Aemond Targaryen Fic - Tumblr Posts

ME ALWAYS WAKING UP TO A NEW CHAPTER BUT THE GREENS, MOSTLY AEMOND AND AEGON THIS CHAPTER-

also big side eye to aemond and aegon this chapter, but mostly aegon this time-

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Another day, another slay. Another moment without Aemond in my life and I am frothing at the bit. I need that man to kidnap me, honestly. I am trying to figure out how I want this fic to end... So many possibilities argh!!! Enjoy <3

Chapter 57: A Sea of Green

The bed moved with every roll of your husband beside you, stirring you from your sleep. How were you to relax when every shift turned your skin alight in anticipation of him reaching over to touch you? You could not settle into the plush pillows and soft sheets, no matter how much you tried. As soon as you got close to the precipice of sleep, gently drifting off, Aemond would shift beside you, and your eyes would snap open. 

The bastard had slept peacefully beside you, whilst you desperately chased it to no avail. 

When you had finally reached sleep, you were waken shortly after by his stirring again. Aemond was an early riser, someone who rose with the sun to waste no time in the day, or perhaps he did not sleep. He had stirred, and wriggled and disturbed you from what little respite you had managed to get as he rolled from beside the bed, not having touched you. 

You had turned to watch him, angrily staring at the back of his head as you wished to thrust a dagger into it. His hair was slightly tangled in the back, likely from his restlessness in bed. Small waves licked at the ends of his hair as he walked towards the large windows to stare out at the slowly rising sun. 

“Did you sleep?” His voice carried across the room, subtle mocking tone to it. His voice was deep and scratchy from his own rest as he cleared it softly.

He knew you were awake. 

He knew you hadn’t rested.

Bastard.

You rolled onto your side, digging your hands under your head as you tightly shut your eyes, trying to calm your aggravation and disdain for your husband. When Aemond got no response, he let out a short hum as he moved about the chambers, readying himself for the day. 

The maids came in a short while later and helped to dress and brush his hair, the same simple braid at the back of his head. You wondered why he wore it in such a way. Was it not Targaryen tradition to braid your hair? To wear it in intricate styles?

Why was he, a man so hell bent on tradition, inclined to wear his hair so simply?

Aemond had left the chambers and uttered a gentle, Wife to you as he left for the day, likely off to wake Aegon up and prepare him for his duties to the realm. The maids had helped you rise from bed, body heavy and mind thick with fatigue, to dress you and braid your hair for the day. 

The same simple braid as Aemond. 

Had you not told them the day before to braid it properly? Had Aemond commanded them to fit your hair to his style? You were too tired to correct them, and so you let the maids put your hair in the boring, common braid.

You spent the morning eating in your chambers, before you left for the day, walking down to the Godswood to sit and think. It gave you clarity, and above all a sense of protection. The Godswood was sacred, and old. As you sat beneath its leaves, you felt the small ache between your thighs and you sighed.

Would it always be like this? Would you always feel pain for days after?

You wondered how some women enjoyed it.

The sun had rose to its peak and then began to descend before you saw your uncle again. 

He came to the Godswood, knowing you would be there. A creature of habit he called you. As he stood in front of you, beneath the shade of the Godswood, he let his lone eye roam down your body.

His patch was firmly on his face again.

“You look beautiful today, Princess.” He commented, no hint of mocking in his tone. 

Your head tilted to the side.

The gown was a deep black, red lining within the long draping sleeves and slit of the skirt. On the neckline and shoulders, beaded dragons were embroidered with golden and red thread. Another dress you had not seen before, and it made you wonder if your mother and father had ordered for new gowns before your leave. 

You looked up at Aemond as he waited for your response. 

Was he expecting you to thank him? 

To compliment him back? 

He looked the same as he always did. Black leather tunic and pants to match, with long leather boots that came up to his mid calf. The buckles of the tunic were high on his neck, and the sleeves and chest were fitted tightly to his body. 

Aemond pursed his lips as he got no response from you and hummed. A large hand came out in front of him towards you, palm up. 

An offering for you to take it. 

Your eyes looked to his upturned hand. In the middle of his palm was the cut from your wedding. It had almost healed now, the skin looking less raw or deep, and the scarred flesh had turned a soft pink, raised up from his palm. 

His hand kept steady, waiting for you to take it. 

There was no option to refuse it.

You let your own shaky hand clasp Aemond's, your scarred palm meeting his, a shiver erupting from your body. His hands were rough and calloused, but his fingers held you gently. His digits curled over yours as he slightly raised his hand and pulled it towards him, his strength lifting you from the ground amongst the roots of the tree. 

He did not rip you from your spot as he had the day before.

“Walk with me.”

A demand.

And so you did. 

Though as soon as you were standing you brought your hand back towards you, brushing down you skirts as an excuse to not touch him. Your hands felt clammy as anxiety rose steadily inside of you.

Aemond watched as you continued to brush your skirts, anything to delay walking with him, but if there was anything that wavered within Aemond, he did not show it. For today he was a patient man, and waited until it was clear that you were stalling, and the tension around you became so thick, that you had no choice but to meet his violet eye once more, stilling your hands. 

The One-Eyed Princes lips twitched, and he hummed before turning on his feet. Though this time, he did not storm ahead of you, expecting you to chase after him on unsteady feet, or dragging you behind him. Today he waited for you to walk and stand next to him before the both of you began to walk, side by side, through the Red Keep. 

Neither of you said a word as you made your way down to the garden, the sky a soft pink as you walked past blooming flowers of all kinds. 

What was happening?

Was this a trick? 

A trap? 

Or was this a show for the court to see that your husband was not cruel, and that the treaty was working, just as the Usurper King had said it would.

The aroma of the garden curled its way around you, saturating the scent of leather and sandalwood from beside you. 

“Are you well?” Aemond broke the silence again.

You let yourself look at him. 

Were you well?

Was he mocking you?

His eye watched your face. No sign of anger or distaste on his own. His sharp features were calm and blank as he waited for you to respond. Patient again. You wondered how long that would last. Yet the longer you held his gaze, the longer you realised he would not be lashing out at you amongst the bright red rose bushes. You could not help but scoff quietly. 

You shook your head and kept walking, turning your gaze to the flowers. 

Breath in.

Breath out.

“Hm.” Aemond hummed, his eye still on you as you walked together, “I’m happy to see that the gowns are to your liking.”

You stopped in your tracks. 

The gowns?

“Of course, Queen Rhaenyra and King Consort Daemon have good taste. They know my favourite tailor is-“

“In Dorne.” He interrupted you, “Marba, correct?”

And he was. 

Marba was the infamous tailor in Dorne where many of your gowns were specially made for you. 

You furrowed your brow. 

And Aemond looked smug.

“Not a hard man to find,” He continued to walk, and you had to force your legs to meet his, “I hope they are to your liking.”

The gowns were from him.

How?

Why?

You kept your eyes on his face as you walked, almost stumbling over your feet. He looked down from his nose at you, and gave you the softest of smirks.

But it was not a cruel one. 

“Why?”

He stopped to turn and face you again, looking at your gown as a hand came to gently touch the material of your sleeve, his thumb and forefinger rubbing the soft dress between his fingers.

“Why? Can’t have my wife in gowns that are not the finest in the realm.”

You held his gaze. 

Why was he still dressing you in red and black? 

Would he not dress you in green like his family?

“I’m surprised they’re not green.”

Aemond let out a hum of a laugh.

“Green is not your colour.” Aemond paused, “Though I have no doubt you would look just as ravishing as you do now.” A shiver ran down your spine, “But I prefer you in the colours of our House. If you were given green gowns, would you truly wear them?”

No. 

You would have worn your chemise around the Keep rather than that.

Aemond took your silence as your answer. 

“Hm.” He smiled, and continued to walk forward, “Can’t be having the people believe my wife is weak.”

Aemond and you did not speak much after this, just the occasional comment here or there about the Keep, or the sky. He even made comment about a shared memory from your youth.

You and Aemond had watched Helaena search in a rose bush for a centipede, her dress becoming caught on the thorns, which you and Aemond had to quickly unhook, lest the Septa yell at the young girl for ruining her gown.

You had walked around the full expanse of the garden, coming back into the Keep once the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and the sky had descended into darkness. Once inside your chambers, Aemond did not turn to the side table to fill a goblet of wine, nor did he make his way before the fire in habit as he usually did. 

Aemond walked into the chambers, you alongside him, and once the chamber doors were shut he had turned to face you and took two swift steps towards you. Your entire body stiffened at the movement as he looked you up and down, a hand coming to brush a soft finger through your hair. 

His eye kept on his hand.

“The King has requested we dine with him.”

Was this why he had taken you for a walk?

To butter you up?

To keep you in good spirits so that you would behave?

You sniffed as a steady fear settled in your chest.

“He is no King of mine.” 

“Hm. Regardless, we have been summoned.” His eye moved to your face, and you could not bear it.

You moved across the room, and Aemond followed you. You sat on the chaise and looked into the flames as Aemond joined you in his armchair. You both watched in silence as the fire licked at the logs inside.

It was as if you were both preparing yourself for the night.

As if you both needed a moment to collect yourself before you would, once again, be mocked by your eldest uncle. You sat together for some time as you observed a log halved in size, and slowly turned to ash. It's shape crumbling down to the bottom of the hearth, before a knight came to collect you both. 

Aemond stood slowly before walking over to you, offering you, again, a hand.

You stared at it in thought. 

It would do you no good to continue to push him to anger. He would always turn it on you, and you would face the wrath that came to him so easily, a wrath in which you would have brought upon yourself. You thought of the Septa’s lessons. 

You had to behave. 

You took his hand and he helped you to stand, his fingers twitching around yours as he smiled down at you. Such a soft smile, it made your heart clench and your side itch as you looked at it.

A genuine smile from the kinslayer.

It had been so long since you had witnessed him smile like that.

You blinked and looked down at the floor, Aemond moving to take you through the chambers, not having let go of your hand. It wasn’t until you were both outside of the chambers did he release you, to tuck his own behind his back as he always did. You followed the movement, holding one wrist in your hand, squeezing tightly as you walked to the Kings chambers. 

The walk was not long, and in no time at all, you found yourself at the doors of the chambers where you had been frequently as a child, watching your Grandsire complete his model of Kings Landing with loving care. 

The doors were just as large as you remembered, and you felt a sense of dread to enter. 

How much would it have changed since your Grandsires passing?

Would his model still be there?

Or would every last memory of him be discarded and replaced with green?

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you stared at the doors, the knights not having opened them yet as Aemond looked down at you from your side. Your heart raced in your chest, and anxiety spread icily through your body. 

“Breathe.” Aemond whispered to you as the two knights began to open the doors.

You did as he commanded and walked forward into the chambers beside your husband. 

“Prince Aemond Targaryen and his Lady Wife, Y/n Velaryon.” Ser Criston Cole announced to the chambers as you entered. 

You let your eyes roam around the space. Not much had changed, and that was your first surprise. Your second surprise, was that the large miniature of Kings Landing still sat tall in the middle of the chambers before the fire. 

It was still there. 

You ignored the world around you as you stepped forward to look at it. There was a fine layer of dust on the model, though nothing had been destroyed or added. It was left to be there as it had the day he died. You lifted a hand to touch it, as if it was not real.

To feel for yourself that it was truly there.

“His lasting legacy.” Came the snicker of Aegon to the side of you. 

You pulled your hand back behind you as you turned your head to face him.

Aegon sat at the large table before the balcony doors. He was dressed in green robes, the neck loosened by two buttons undone at the top, and a hand rested on the table with his chin in his palm. The bags under his eyes were dark, and his skin looked paler than usual. Perhaps he was ill? Or perhaps it was the ale. As you continued to observe him, a soft glint caught your eye. 

A large gold ring shone on his pinky finger and you immediately recognised it. 

Helaenas ring.

You bristled.

Aemond's hand came to touch the small of your back gently, and you hated that it grounded you in that moment. 

Alicent Hightower stood behind her eldest son, looking out the balcony at the realm, as the soft white curtains billowed around her from the evenings breeze. She almost looked like a ghost the way she stood there motionless, not having turned to greet you as she normally would have.

Trained for court interactions.

“Princess,” Came the low drawl of the Hightower Patriarch, “It is good to see that you are fairing well.”

Otto Hightower sat beside his grandson on the table as he looked at you. He wore dark grey robes with fur trimming around the neck, and hints of green within the stitching and side panels of his coat. His hair had greyed considerably since the last time you had been in Kings Landing and you wondered if this was due to illness or stress.

Aemond’s thumb rubbed on your back as he put pressure on you, urging you to move forward wordlessly and gently. 

Why was he being so soft today?

It sent your mind reeling.

Was he regretful?

Had Alicent reprimanded him?

Was he reminded of the delicacy of the treaty? 

Was he afraid that he would break you? 

Or was he simply in a better mood?

You took slow steps towards the table, Aemond on your side, moving together to your seats. Your uncle pulled out a chair for you, and you let yourself sit in it, pulling the chair forward to the table, Aemond seating himself beside you. 

“Thought you had grown mad like Helaena.” Aegon mocked, and you felt Aemond stiffen beside you. 

Alicent snapped her head to look at her son, finally breaking away from her spot beside the window as she came over to the table quickly, standing behind his chair. Tension between the mother and son was thick. Her stance behind him was menacing.

A silent threat.

You had remembered when you were young that Alicent was not the kindest of mothers, nor the most understanding. You had remembered Aegon or Aemond complaining of being slapped by the Queen on more than one occasion. Aegon mostly being hit rather than Aemond, though more than once, Aemond had faced the brunt of her frustrations simply for being in the closest proximity to her. 

Aegon let out a huff of a laugh as he pulled his wine to his lips, sipping from his cup, eyes over the rim looking at you. He ignored his mothers presence looming behind him, and it gave you the impression that Aegon was used to her wrathful gaze, and bursts of violence.

It simply didn’t faze him.

He looked as though he expected and knew what was coming. That he had made his peace with it a very long time ago. 

Almost as sure as the sun would rise, so would Alicent’s temper. You supposed the both of you had that one, simple thing in common. And it most certainly passed on to her second son.

Alicent finally seated herself beside the King, opposite to you and Aemond, and dipped her head down as she brought her hands up onto the table. Aemond followed his mother immediately and bowed his head down, hands crossed above his plate as she began a prayer. You looked amongst the table to find Otto in prayer too, but beside him, Aegon stared at you, smirk pulling wider and wider on his face as he sipped from his goblet.

You stared at each other as neither of you moved to pray with the Dowager Queen. He lifted his eyebrows at you sharply as Alicent came to the end of her prayer, and Aemond’s violet eye lifted to catch you and Aegon in a locked gaze.

The table was full of food, and goblets of wine sat in far more quantity than was needed. There was a large roasted turkey on the table, and steaming legs of lamb with vegetables piled high around it. Aemond reached forward and began to fill your plate for you. He placed your favourite foods on the plate, and skilfully avoided the roasted eggplant. Your least favourite food.

He had remembered. 

“Have you settled into your chambers?” Alicent asked stiffly, as a way to redirect the conversation. As though the anger and resentment towards her son had drifted away with the breeze coming in from the balcony and the small prayer given at the table.

You let your head turn to look at Aemond beside you, not answering. He didn’t take his eye away from serving himself, but you knew he felt you watching him. You decided to not respond to her question, and so she redirected her attention to Aemond, asking him of how he spent his day. He told her with great gentleness that he had been to the library to read over some texts, and then went for a walk through the gardens with you. 

Aemond trailed off awkwardly as all of you began eating.

Stiff conversation floated about the table, and you wondered if the stiffness came from your presence, or if the Greens had always been this dysfunctional with each other. You had never dined with them alone, not even before the war, and it made you wonder if your presence actually brought any tension to the table at all. It seemed that there was enough already there naturally without you. 

The food from your plate slowly disappeared as you ate in silence, desperately avoiding lifting your gaze, lest they drag you into the hollow conversation of the room. You moved a large piece of potato around your plate before stabbing it with your fork, bringing it to your lips to chew. 

“Such a delight to have you join us.” Aegon directed his voice to you, most likely having sensed your avoidance, and so you let your gaze meet his. 

His violet eyes lit up in delight.

“I have missed sharing meals with my niece.” He smiled, food in his mouth.

You frowned.

“It’s a shame my other nephews aren’t here to join us.”

The air fell still. 

“Quite a shock when Aemond came home from Storms End to tell us what had happened.”

Heat rose in your body and you loudly dropped your cutlery back onto the table, hands pulling into fists as you gawked at him.

“Didn’t think my brother had it in him.”

You sprung from your chair, the seat falling backwards behind you with a heavy crash. Your chest rose and fell as Aegon smiled up at you. Otto and Alicent watched you with careful eyes as you stared the false King down. 

It could be so easy. 

To just launch yourself across the table, knife in hand.

Would any of them be quick enough to stop you? If you lodged the blade into his throat and watched blood pour from his mouth as he drowned in it?

“Y/n,” Aemond’s voice broke you from your thoughts, “Sit.”

Aegon laughed loudly in his seat as he watched Aemond look up at you.

“Listen to your husband.” Aegon smiled, and your fingers twitched, looking down at the knife on the table.

It could be so easy.

Ser Cole came across the chambers towards you, towering over you, hand on the hilt of his sword. You bristled as you felt Aemond’s hand on your elbow, gently holding it, not tightly grabbing it, as he whispered to you.

“Abrazȳrys.” Wife.

You jerked your arm from Aemond's grip, a loud laugh falling from Aegon’s lips at the gesture, as you slowly sat back down in your seat, eyes not leaving your eldest uncle before you, nor Ser Coles presence leaving your side.

The air was thick in the room as Ser Cristin stood on your flank, watching every movement you made as your hand twitched to grab the knife. It made you even more angry. You felt caged between him and the man beside you. Your uncle Aegon smiled at you smugly in enjoyment. 

Alicent’s voice flitted across the table, trying to disarm the rising tension. Her low voice asked if there was anything that you needed in your chambers, noting that she had sent your letter to your family by raven, and that they would swiftly give you their response. 

You ignored her attempts of conversation, keeping your eyes on the Usurper King who leant lazily back in his chair, goblet of wine in his hand smiling at you. 

He had won.

Aemond stood slowly, looking at the table, excusing you both with the gentle words of needing rest for the morrow.

A small mercy.

Aegon bid you a delighted good night, and you felt the heated gaze of the room on the both of your backs as you raced out of the chamber doors, leaving Aemond to chase behind you.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5

Bold is who I cannot tag!

I LOVE WAKING UP TO A NEW CHAPTER, ITS AEMONDS POV but-

Aemond would suffer any pains, swim any sea, do anything to have you. He would scour the realm in search of you by foot if he had needed to.

When I tell you that I let out a giggle and then pulled up an angry look knowing what’s going yo happen soon!? I swallowed them down!

He knew you would not do it, and so the dutiful zaldristos followed him, just as he planned.

I am screaming in agony!!! How do you write his pov so elegantly? So perfectly? And so emotionally well done?! I just know for a fact I get excited yet with little amount of anxiety reading this fic, I love it! I can’t wait for the next pov (maybe), thank you for your hard work!!

Me literally giggling and swallowing it down this pov chapter:

Smoke, Fire and Ash

AEMOND WEDDING POV PART 1

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Thoughts of manipulation and hurt, violence and assault. Obsessive themes and possessiveness.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: AEMOND!POV, Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Word count: 5.7k

Note: The highly requested and anticipated Aemond!POV from the wedding to the fateful night. Thank you all for showing so much love and excitement for this, I had fun writing it. As always read the warnings and please, please don't expect anything happy, or fluffy or healthy. This is a Dark!fic. Anyway.... enjoy you heathens <3

BOLD ITALICS ARE INNER MONOLOGUE

AEMOND POV CHAPTERS 50-52

PART ONE : A Union of Green and Black

Aemond had anticipated the raven returning to Kings Landing. He had waited for it patiently, spending his days assisting his mother and brother, or roaming the realm for the letter that would give him the answer he knew was coming. And when the day rolled over, and he had been in his chambers, and Ser Cole had summoned him to the Small Council Chambers, he had known his answer had arrived.

‘Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and of the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm has accepted King Aegon’s terms of treaty…’

Queen?

That whore did not deserve the title Queen. 

When King Viserys had died, Aemond had turned to Ser Willis Fell, “Is Aegon king?” The One-Eyed Prince asked, “Or must we kneel and kiss the old whore's cunny?” 

And when word had arrived to Kings Landing that the Whore of Dragonstone had named herself Queen, and aquired Viserys' crown, Aemond had scowled and raged in his chambers alone.

Must we kneel and kiss the old whore's cunny?

It felt like they were now. 

A treaty, Aemond inwardly scoffed. 

‘Princess Y/n Velaryon, the Princess of Dragonstone has accepted the betrothal to Prince Aemond Targaryen.’

Aemond had known you would have had said yes.

You had no other choice. 

The wait for the next moon was agony, and Aemond found himself so restless that he returned to Harrenhal to see a pair of familiar, piercing green eyes. Alys Rivers had waited for his return, and upon his arrival, did not seem at all surprised.

"I saw you were coming in a dream."

He believed her. 

He spent the next days fucking himself into her, spilling his seed deep into her womb as she so graciously welcomed it. She would open her mouth when he asked, and swallow his seed greedily like she was told. He would thrust roughly into the back of her throat and piston his hips into her core for hours until she begged for mercy, and cried upon his member. She would cook for him, and dote on him, and whisper praise into his ears. 

Eventually the time came, and he had to make his leave back to Kings Landing. He had given her a necklace of Valyrian steel, with three large green emeralds dripping from its centre as a parting gift. She had received the gift in thanks, and taken his cock into her mouth in appreciation. 

When Aemond had returned to Kings Landing, he felt nothing but excitement to the date. You were to be his. You were to leave your whore mother and bastard brothers and spend your life with him in Kings Landing.

Would you attack him again?

Would you behave?

He hoped you would put up a fight. 

When the day came, Aemond sat upon Vhagar’s back and flew to Dragonstone to claim what was rightfully his. What would have always been his. What was fated by the gods and prophesied by those who had the sight.

Aegon had clapped him on the back in a parting farewell, and told him to make you 'squeal like a pig'. 

Charming.

As he flew across the ocean and began to see the small speck of Dragonstone become larger and larger, his heart raced in his chest and blood began to pump itself into his cock. 

You would be his. 

Finally his.

How many nights had he dreamed of this? How many days had he agonised over your absence?

How many words had he exchanged with his mother and brother, forcing them to his will? Forcing them to accept that you would be his.

How many times had they argued that it would not work? That you would try to kill them, or die trying.

And how many times had he said ‘I know.’

He didn’t care. 

You were his the moment you were born.

When Aemond had circled the active volcano, he had expected to find Caraxes, his uncle sat astride the large red dragon, to tear him from the sky, all fire and fury. He had waited for Syrax and Melys, and any or all of the Blacks dragons to rain the Seven Hells upon him.

And yet there was none. The island was still, and there were no dragons to be seen. It was almost eerily quiet.

Aemond had landed on the island, and his first thought was the smell. It was sulphuric to its very core, and the smell of coal and dragon was strong as it was carried through the oceans breeze. 

Waiting for him on the top of Dragonmont were several guards and a knight who had introduced himself as Ser Darke. Aemond had eyed the knight who was tall, and handsome by any standards. He wondered if this was your personal knight. 

And then he wondered if this knight had taken your maidenhead. 

Aemond felt himself sour until the knight with dark hair had handed him cream and red robes.

The ceremonial robes of Old Valyria.

Aemond had dressed himself with no fuss nor shame in the eyes of the Old Gods, and any of the guards who had dared to watch him. And then he was moving, finally making his way down to you. 

His grandfather Otto’s voice carried across the wind, and Aemond watched as he got closer, listening to the elder Hightower prattle on about the greatness of Aegon and his treaty. 

Aegon was too thick to think of a treaty. 

That was his mother and Otto’s idea. 

He watched as your eyes flitted from Otto to him, mouth slackening. And then he felt it. The burning gaze of his uncle, Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince had given him a one over, before looking down to his daughter. 

Asking with his eyes to smite his nephew.

Aemond walked to stand in front of you beside the alter, and his breath had stopped in his lungs. 

You were beautiful.

Stunning.

Regal.

Every part the blood of Old Valyria.

A true Targaryen through and through. 

Your silver hair had shone in the light and your violet eyes had danced dangerously as you observed the man in front of you. Your robes fit you perfectly, and the headdress sat delicately upon your head. He wished to caress you, to promise you the world.

You were enchanting. Ethereal. Not of this world.

And you were his.

Candles were lit, and Aemond could scarcely pay attention to the world around him. He did not care. He was too preoccupied with how your teeth kept pulling at your lips nervously, or how your gaze would concentrate hard on his face. More specifically his eye.

Does it frighten you like the others?

Or do you see through it? Do you see through the horror of it and see the man beneath? The boy beneath?

Aemond's mouth had dried when he had run the sharp edge of dragonglass down your lip, watching as blood rushed to the surface of your mouth. He wished to step forward to lick it off the crimson droplets. He wished to taste its coppery tang upon his tongue. He wished to soothe the wound, and chase away the pain with his lips.

And then you had returned the favour, only your hand was not as gentle as he had been. Your hand did not hold awe, or reverence, or pride in it as you slid the glass down his parted and waiting lips.

Your hand had been rough, and cruel, and had sliced through his lip with far more force than had been needed. It was full of anger, and resentment, fury and rage. A loathing and sense of betrayal. 

His zaldristos.

He relished in the pain, and welcomed the sharp sting, because it was you who was doing it. It was you giving yourself to him. Aemond would suffer any pains, swim any sea, do anything to have you. He would scour the realm in search of you by foot if he had needed to.

You would always be his.

And you would never be without him again. 

He had sliced his own palm and held the blade towards you.

Your turn little one.

Your palm had opened from its stiff grip, and in your palm lay the evidence of your assault upon him that fateful night. His shoulder twinged as he looked at it. You had gotten him good that evening. Deep and sharp. The Maester had been uncertain if they would have been able to seal it. And so Aemond had told them to burn it. To melt the flesh together so that he may heal in the way of a dragon.

He had thought of you when the Maester had burnt his wound shut and sewed the rest together. It had felt like the night Lucerys had taken his eye. Except he had felt proud of you. He had felt proud that you had that fire. That anger and that rage. It had made his cock uncomfortably hard, and despite having lost a lot of blood, when the Maester had finally left his chambers, and his mother had stopped fussing and went back to hers, Aemond had tugged himself to his peak, using the arm on his injured side to relish in the pain you had delivered.

Like an angel of death.

You had hesitated to slice your palm and he had been patient. You could take as long as you wanted, but you would be his forever more. 

When the blood pooled he grasped your hand, desperate to pour every inch of love into his wound that bled, hoping that his essence would flow into you, and that you would feel his devotion and admiration. Hoping that his love would seep into your heart and unfreeze it, and bring you back to him. 

Your hands were bound together in ceremonial thread, and the final words were said. 

“Ry kivia mazvestraksi.” Of darkness and light.

He was the darkness and you were his light. His entire being revolved around you like the sun.

Aemond’s cock twitched in his robes, and his heart soared.

What a triumph. 

He stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips against yours. The bitter taste of copper had brushed into his mouth with his first cautious kiss. He was so anxious, but so overjoyed. 

You were finally his. 

Mine.

You were like opium. Your lips were so soft and tender against his own, and he could taste your essence on his tongue. Aemond tried in vain but he could not hold back any longer. His hand came to pull you in closer, grasping at the back of your head as he deepened the kiss. To drink you in like a man starved. Your blood the elixir of life, and he a dying man.

He licked at the blood to clean you, to have all of you, to taste you further and he almost moaned. Your sharp little teeth nipped at him and his hand tightened in your hair. He felt a breath puff out of your lips, and onto his, and imagined that you would do the same when he fucked you. 

If he pulled your hair when he pressed himself up inside of you, would you sigh into his mouth? Would you moan and squirm in his grip as he fucked his seed into you?

When he pulled back, your pupils were dilated and your sweet little lips were smeared with your combined blood. You looked feral. Blood thirsty.

Bursting with rage. 

His sweet little niece. 

It made him harder, and he was thankful that the robes were loose.

“Mēre ñelly, mēre prūmia, mēre soul, sir se forever.” 

One flesh, one heart, one soul. Now and forever.

You were his. 

And he was yours.

Your blood ran through him, and his through you. 

Now and forever.

His wife. 

“Wife.” Aemond tested the word on his tongue and he knew in that moment it was meant to be.

It felt right.

It felt perfect.

It felt that the Gods knew you were destined to be together. Aemond had always known that the Gods made you for each other. He could always feel a magnetic pull to you. Drawing him in like a Siren.

As if you were tied by two threads, and no matter where you would be, no matter where you would go, no matter how hard you would try to pull, or cut, or tear the thread between you, it would not budge.

And you would always return to each other. 

Mine.

As soon as your hand had left his, you had thrown yourself into your fathers arms. Daemon had watched Aemond over the top of your head. His eyes bored into Aemond’s as he expressed all the things he were to do to him if he had even the slightest inkling that he harmed his precious daughter, with only his eyes.

His favourite daughter.

His first child. 

Aemond had blinked slowly at the man and watched as his uncle had cooed into your hair. His heart ached at the sight and he did not know why. 

You had raced back into the castle, leaving Aemond with Otto and Ser Cole, watching as you and the others who resided on Dragonstone, trudged slowly and solely back inside. 

Aemond had watched how Daemon fought desperately to not say a thing to Otto nor him, nor Cole. How his mouth had twitched and his hand had repeatedly tapped on the large hilt of the Dark Sister Blade. 

Aemond admired the mans tenacity. 

The young Prince had redressed himself out of the ceremonial garb and back into his riding leathers. He, Otto and Cole had walked and waited for you at the entrance of the castle to return. Little words being said between the three men. 

When you had returned, you were in-between the hulking figure of your father and the handsome knight. 

So he was your knight.

Aemond made a mental note to inquire into who this knight was, and if he had any loved ones he cared for.

Was he a first son? A second son? A third? Did he had sisters? Or brothers?

Jealousy rolled through Aemond as he thought of the Prince knowing you intimately. Doting on your every command. Bringing you your every desire. 

Did he come to your chambers at night, when all had gone to rest, and warmed your bed? 

Had he pierced your maidenhead and watched your blood streak his length? Had he whispered praise to you and brought you to your peak? Had he tasted you the way Aemond had? Had the made you cum on his hands as the Prince had done?

Aemond wanted to slice the knights head from his shoulders, and his cock from his body. 

Heat rose in his body until Otto had spoken, and broke his tumbling thoughts. You had all but scoffed at his grandsire and looked up at your father with large, sad eyes. You had embraced, and Aemond once again felt a sting in his heart. 

And also jealousy. 

He wondered for a split moment if you had ever been intimate with your father, but the thought came and went just as quickly as it had arrived. 

No.

Neither of you would have. 

You had stormed away and Aemond had watched your hips sway as you marched up the grassy hill beside the castle, Otto calling out to you in confusion, and the loud laugh of Daemon flowed into the air. Aemond had to stop himself from smiling. Otto huffed under his breath, wondering where you were going.

Aemond knew exactly where you were going.

For it was the way that he came.

He followed you up the hill, not too far behind, but not quite racing either. He had all the time in the world. For the rest of your shared lives, you would be his. The grass crushed beneath his feet, and as he rounded a rocky corner he came face to face with a vision, sitting atop the famed Vermithor.

Your hair shimmered in the light and your leather riding clothes were snug on your figure. Aemond groaned under his breath as his cock twitched in his leather pants. A smirk wound its way on his face as he watched you spot him. 

Vermithor was large, and mean and old. Just like his Vhagar was. HIs scales were bronze and his teeth were mangled and what a sight you were to be atop the old dragon. You had claimed the famed Vermithor, the Kings dragon. A dragon that had made men kneel.

You did not need a dragon to make Aemond bend the knee.

You could have uttered Dracarys, right then and there. Daemon and your knight could have easily subdued and slain Otto and Ser Cole, and you would have had the upper hand in the war. 

But you didn’t. 

You kept true to the treaty.

His little spitfire, zaldristos, darling niece, barely spared him a single glance as she commanded her great dragon into the sky, his bronze scales shimmering in sun. 

Aemond had cooed out to Vhagar, moving around the cliffs face to find her patiently waiting for him, having sensed him through the bond as he pulled himself up the ropes and onto her back. The war dragon pushed herself into flight roughly, and called out into the air. 

He had flown beside you, watching how well you had bonded to your new dragon, and so quickly. When a Targaryen would lose their dragon, that would be it. They would never bond with another. 

But not you.

Oh no, not you.

Not his wife.

And that’s what made you his.

The journey to Kings Landing was far too long for his liking as his swollen member pressed painfully into his pants. He had tried to adjust himself to relieve the throbbing, but to no avail. 

Aemond had thought the whole journey home about laying you down in his bed, parting your thighs and lapping at your waiting cunt. He had imagined licking, and suckling and fucking you on his fingers until completion. Stretching you open for his cock so that you would be ready. 

He had imagined thrusting into you, holding you to him as you moaned and writhed beneath him, praising him, crying for him, wailing as the tip of his cock pushed up against your womb. He had imagined you panting, and wanting, and begging for his seed. 

‘Please uncle, please give me it. Give me your seed.’

‘Put a babe in me, husband.’

‘Please fill me, Aem.’

‘I love you.’

I love you.

Those words were all that the Prince desired to hear.

But he knew that he wouldn’t. 

You would most likely kick, and scratch, and bite at him. Hiss and curse, and spew vile insults. This image of you, all fiery beneath him, crying and sobbing, clawing and cursing, also made his cock throb. 

Either way, he would have you. 

You had arrived and disappeared before he had caught up. But there was only few places he knew he would find you. And so when his gut told him to go to the Godswood, he had followed it, and he was right. 

There you stood, palm on the bark, head bowed, no doubt begging the Gods for mercy. For a miracle. Asking for them to slay him and his brother and any other who carried the Hightower blood, just as he had with the Strongs. He knew that you would be asking for protection from the monster you had married. 

But he did not have to be cruel.

He could be good to you, if only you let him.

“The God’s won’t hear your prayers.” He had spoken, not being able to help himself. Not being able to try and get the fire within you to burst, to have you race at him again, blade in hand. 

He watched in excitement as your little hand balled itself up in anger against the tree, a smear of blood being left behind. Aemond grinned. 

Yes.

Yes, show me how much you hate me.

Show me your passion for me.

“Come. I will show you to our chambers.” 

Our chambers.

Our.

He liked how it sounded on his tongue. He liked the way our sounded. 

Us.

Our

We.

One flame, one flesh, one heart, one soul. Together. 

Forever.

As you had always been destined to be.

You had turned, lips pulled down into a frown as he smiled brightly at you, joy coursing through him.

Our.

Us.

Your lips were scabbed where the cut was, with no blood lingering around your face, except for the symbol upon your forehead which he had pressed with a sacred thumb. You had left it undisturbed, just as he had. 

See? We are already one.

We are the same.

“I wish to return to my old chambers.” You had demanded, but so softly, almost as if you were testing the waters. 

Aemond could not help but tilt his head. 

Gods, such a good wife already.

So obedient and good.

All mine.

“No.” Was all he had said, enjoying the anger that flashed across her face as he turned and began walking to his chambers.

No, not his.

Your shared chambers.

Ours.

The entire walk he thought of the possibility of taking you as soon as the chamber doors opened. Of bending you over the table in the centre of the room and rutting into your tight, wet heat. Of laying you down on the bed and ripping your riding leathers from your body, and thrusting himself deeply inside. To fuck into your wet cunt and have your screams and the slapping of skin carry through the entire Keep for all to hear. 

Yes, she is mine.

She has always been mine.

She will always be mine.

He had watched you enter the chambers, eyes flitting around the space and knew immediately that your eyes would look to the passage door. That immediately you would be looking for a way out. Or reminiscing on your previous visit.

And you had. 

Creatures of habit rarely change their design.

The passage was neither blocked, nor barricaded, and if you wished to attempt an escape, you were free to do so. Though he knew that you wouldn’t. 

“You wouldn’t be able to leave that way, if that’s what you are thinking of.” His voice called across the room.

A lie.

Which you seemed to believe. 

Such a good little girl.

He had offered you wine. Spiced Dornish wine, of the deepest red.

Your favourite.

He had remembered.

He remembered everything.

Everything you liked, and disliked. Everything you had said. Everything you had done. Everything that you had worn. Everything. He remembered it all.

You were in his head, every moment of every day. Every single waking hour he thought of you. Even as he lay in the bed of another, even as his cock filled Alys, even as she moaned and writhed beneath him, he thought of you. 

And then your sweet little eyes had caught the faded red cover of your favourite book, sitting proudly on a pile of books he had compiled for your arrival. Books in which you had read to him. Books in which he knew you would like. Books in which he had remembered you liked.

It was all for you.

Everything was for you.

Do you not see? This is all for you.

“Sit.” He had commanded, to see if you would obey, to test the waters to see how much you would put your all into this treaty. For yourself. For your mother. For your family. 

And you had sat, and his heart had soared. 

You were making an effort. 

You were trying to make this work.

You could see that he loved you, and maybe you were coming to terms that you loved him too.

“Drink.” Aemond commanded again, and you followed his orders.

His cock jumped in his breeches and he had to subtly move himself as he sat. 

Would you open your mouth if he told you to? Would you cum if he commanded it? Would you take his member into your mouth and suck if he asked?

Would you be a good little wife for him? 

His fiery little zaldristos, tamed and claimed by the mighty dragon that he was.

He lost himself in the images of you coming to your knees before him at the fireplace, with a wordless command. A simple finger gesture, a subtle point of his index to his feet, and the good little wife you were would be anxious and excited to please him. You would come to stand before him and kneel. Your tiny little hands, hands that had caused so much damage, hands that had scarred him, hands that had-

“The King wishes for us to dine with him this evening. To celebrate our union.”

He watched as your chest paused, and your face paled. Your lips had parted and your little hands had curled tightly around the goblet. 

Ah.

“He will not touch you.” 

A promise. 

I will kill him if he ever has you.

When you had not said a word, and he had stood before you, your eyes glazed over as your mind no doubt reeled at the thought of being reunited with your eldest uncle. Aemond did not take offence when you had jumped at his palm. 

“I will have the maids come and dress you for the evening.” 

And they had. In the dress he had your favourite tailor in Dorne make for you. 

One black dragon, one green dragon. 

Together as one. 

One.

Us. 

Aemond had watched you be bathed and dressed and could not help but notice at how you were, despite being present physically in the room, not present mentally. You had drifted away behind your eyes and numbly let the women wash, dry and dress you. Even as he had touched the small of your back and led you out of the chambers, and cooed small compliments to you, you had not come back to the present. 

Aemond had even tried mentioning Lucerys, to see if that could rise you from whatever depths you were lost in, and yet you did not come back to him.

He felt a pit of anxiety settle in his stomach.

He thought of Helaena, and how he had gradually watched her do the same. With each passing day, he watched his beloved sister, the sweetest and kindest of all, fade into a nothingness until not even she herself could stand it any longer, and threw herself from her window in Maegor’s Holdfast.

“Zaldristos.” He had uttered, small panic in his voice. 

Please do not go with her. 

I cannot loose you too.

Please Gods, do not let her go to madness. I will do whatever you ask me to.

Do not take her from me.

You had swallowed thickly after he spoke his prayer, and your eyes had met him. The spell had been broken, and the Gods had listened. You were back, and the first thing your eyes did was open widely, almost in shock of your hazy mind, looking down at the dress that fit you more perfectly than he could have ever imagined. 

Aemond reminded himself to tip the tailor. 

You had walked together, as one, to the intimate Dining Chambers, and were announced to the room as you entered. ‘His Lady Wife Y/n Velaryon.’

‘His Lady Wife.’

His.

Aegon sat with his small council around him, their mother and grandfather waiting at the table. Aegon had this mischievous glint in his eye which made Aemond inwardly cringe. He had remembered the look that Aegon would get when he wished to start trouble, and this evening would be no different. 

“There they are!” The King had stood, arms wide and Aemond inwardly groaned. 

His brother was a prick.

The crown on his head must weigh heavy on his skull, for his brain was surely being crushed by the force.

Aemond watched as Aegon tried to goad you into a fight, and he felt himself bristle instead.

She is mine.

Mine to love. Mine to touch. Mine to hold. Mine to torment, and fuck, and put heirs into.

Mine.

He had pulled a seat out for you, and you had sat, and he was proud of how well you were behaving on your first night back in the Red Keep. He had expected you to launch yourself across the table, all claws and teeth and rip his brothers, or his mothers, throat out. 

Would it be a sin if he said he was disappointed that you didn’t?

Aemond could sense his good Lady Wife stiffening beside him and heat pouring from her body as Aegon continued to try and lure her into a fight. To try and get her to react to him. The air was tense from the other Lords at the table as they all watched in anticipation of a very tumultuous celebration of a very tumultuous union.

“I don’t think I’ve heard my niece be so quiet before. Have you broken her already, Aemond?” 

Not in the way I would have liked to.

Not in the way you had tried to.

Aemond hummed. 

“Don't tell me she has snatched your voice too, brother? One minute in her cunt and already you’ve gone soft.” Aegon snickered.

Fucking cunt.

Aemond watched as Otto tried, and failed, to diffuse the tension as he saw the warning signs of Aemond’s temper begin to simmer. It was fine for the Princess to be riled, she could not act if she wished to annul the treaty, but Aemond? 

Aemond could do as he pleased. 

And if he pleased to launch himself across the table and strike his drunken brother, he would. 

Aegon laughed loudly and Aemond felt you stiffen beside him. 

All instincts kicked in, and Aemond felt suddenly protective of you. 

I won’t let him touch you. 

You are mine now.

I won’t let anyone harm you again.

You are mine.

Conversation moved about the table, and Aemond felt he could relax, but only just. Aegon continued to drown himself in his cups, and he watched as you did not move to eat your supper, instead drinking from your goblet. 

“Tell me brother, have you bed her yet?”

Aemond felt blinding rage course through him. 

You fucking cunt. You fucking piece-

“Do you remember how it is done? I’d be happy to show you.” 

Even the Lannister laughed, and Aemond had to control his breathing as to not take the blade at Ser Coles side and thrust it through the two of them.

You keep laughing, Lannister, and I will fuck a silver haired babe into your wife as a gift.

You keep laughing and I will make you watch me do it.

Willingly or not. 

Alicent tried, and failed, as she always had, not that she ever fully tried, to chastise Aegon, to rein him in. But he was King now, and he had the Kingly arrogance to match. 

“We should hold a bedding ceremony, to ensure that the deed is done properly. I can talk you through it.”

You fucking bastard.

He thinks I don't know how to fuck a woman? He thinks I don't know how to bed my own wife?

My niece?

If only he knew the things he was capable of. Of what he does to Alys. Of how she begs for it, and cries for it, and pleads on her knees, mouth open and eyes wide.

Or demands it, legs spread, cunt weeping and waiting for him.

“Come now brother, surely you have not forgotten what I showed you on your thirteenth name day.” Aegon laughed, pulling his goblet up to his lips. 

Aemond’s heart ached and his stomach dropped. 

He did not want to remember that.

He wished to forget.

He wished to forget their hands on him. Their mouth on him. How Aegon had laughed as he watched. How Aemond had not wanted to. How he had cried after and felt shame and anguish. How he had felt confliction and disgust. 

He had wanted it to be you. 

He had wanted to lay with you as his first. 

But you weren’t his first. Nor his second, nor would you be his third.

Aegon saw to that.

Aegon had taken something from him in which he could never get back. 

Aemond’s jaw clenched tightly as he watched his brother, the feeling of the older woman’s crawling hands on his body. 

“The King is merely joking with you, My Prince. We are all in good spirits for this union.” Otto spoke. 

Fuck you too.

“You heard the old bat, we are all in good spirits! You are finally wed to the one woman who had given you any attention at all. Sure, she is a bastard-“

“Watch your tongue.” You had sneered, finally breaking your silence. 

Aemond pulled from his sickening thoughts and felt your anger beside him run through him. Your blood in him. He had never been so angry. He had never felt so vengeful. So provoked. Not even in Storms End did he feel such wrath. 

He wished to kill his brother. 

“So she speaks!” Aegon declared proudly to the table, looking at the Lords as they all smiled unsurely, “Finally. There is my niece who I know and love. Though I fear if you are able to speak, perhaps my brother did not fuc-“

Aemond shot up from the table, ready and willing to do it. 

It could be so easy. 

It could be so easy to kill him. Right here, right now. Before all the Lords and his mother. He could snuff the life out of the man he called his brother, his King, and he could do it without a second thought. He would gladly watch the light fade from those violet eyes. He could watch the wa-

“Aem, brother.” Aegon mock cooed, “You know I am only teasing. Come, let's raise our cups to this fine union!” 

He was mocking him. 

Mocking him.

He was saying he was not a man. Questioning his manhood again. Questioning his ability to be a man.

All lifted their cup and Aemond turned to look at you, you were already watching him. Your mouth was parted and pupils dilated and a flush lay on your cheeks. You were so angry. You were angry with him. But your eyes looked frightened. 

Aemond watched as your hand came to soothe him, to touch him. He didn't want to be touched. He kept thinking of his thirteenth name-day and his skin crawled. And seeing you look up at him like that. In pity.

It disgusted him.

He didn’t want your pity. 

“To my brother, may she warm your heart and your cock, and may you make me a grand-uncle soon enough. And to my wonderful niece, may you warm his bed, and birth his heirs, and feel the warmth of his love.”

Aemond bitterly drained his cup, and watched as his wife did the same. If he sat for a moment longer at this table, and had to look at his brothers shit eating grin a moment more, he would ride atop Vhagar and set the entire Keep ablaze. 

“Excuse us, I wish to spend time with my wife.” 

Aemond left the room, not even waiting for you, as he knew you would follow him. You would not sit alone in the chambers with Aegon or his mother. He knew you would not do it, and so the dutiful zaldristos followed him, just as he planned.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men @vipervixxen @theonewiththeimaginaryboyfriends @watercolorskyy @lavendervisions @mazmack666 @chokefrog @orangejump-suit @nik2blog @serrhaewinin @ohemgeewhat @winxschester @cryptidsrcool @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @celestedonut @bloodyvelvet777 @iamapersonthatsalive @av-sos @yentroucnagol @sanzu-s @opheliaas-stuff @bellameshipper @maviee @persephonerinyes @neytiri-09 @ensnaredinwonderland @xbluegracex @sotragedynut @nattieot7 @shesawaywiththefairies-blog @coffedraven @prettycutebunny @celestedonut @the-jess-life @ssulfurr @out-of-life @madislayyy @crazylokonugget @cicaspair418 @katwmk @relminnie @milovart @teagrex @visenyaverse @bellameshipper @toodlesxcuddles @tempt-ress @dontmindmereading7 @qyburnsghost @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @notnormalthings-blog @maidmerrymint

Bold is who I cannot tag!

MASTERLIST

ASOIAF

One Shots

oh, how easy one burns (M) • Aemond Targaryen x Reader • 4.3k

Series

Throw Me to the Wolves • Robb Stark x OC • 58 Chapters (Ongoing)

Abandon All Hope • Aemond Targaryen x OC • 3 Chapters (Undergoing Rewrites)

If I'm writing a third-person, reader-insert one shot, do y'all prefer the reader/unnamed character to purely be referred to as, like, "she" or "the lady", or is (Y/N) preferable?

It's been so long since I've written a one-shot, let alone a reader insert 😭

Any input would be much appreciated!

reblogging one more time before I get ready to finish the one shot

If I'm writing a third-person, reader-insert one shot, do y'all prefer the reader/unnamed character to purely be referred to as, like, "she" or "the lady", or is (Y/N) preferable?

It's been so long since I've written a one-shot, let alone a reader insert 😭

Any input would be much appreciated!

oh, how easy one burns

Summary:

Aemond’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and he spun you to face him. “You should not have danced with him.” The panic once coursing through you spiked into a furious rage, licking and scorching your spine. Rage at Lorent, for betraying your friendship so easily. Rage at Aemond, however unwarranted, for not coming to your rescue sooner, for behaving as though it pained him to sit by your side for longer than but a moment. 

Rating: M, just to be safe. minors I am in your walls. begone.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

(x OC over on AO3, for those who prefer that). Either way, no use of (y/n).

Warnings: Canon typical sexism/gender roles. A guy (not Aemond) get's pushy and a lil' rough. Threat of violence. Reader, though described as a Lannister and shorter than Aemond, has no other distinguishing features. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Thanks to everyone who gave me input on my last post regarding whether or not to use y/n!!! It was kinda 50/50 on the matter, so I decided to do reader insert here and an oc over on AO3. So if that's more your speed, check that one out :)

As the young Lady Lannister, you had long known where your place was in the world, what your duty was to your family. It had been drilled into you since you were young; first by your mother and then by your Septa, later in life. Your mother had never once lied to you about what your life would entail. You would marry some noble lord, an heir to a Great House if you were lucky, or perhaps one of your father’s more powerful bannermen to strengthen alliances. You would give your husband heirs and run his household, just as you’d been taught, and if you were lucky, then just maybe you’d love your husband as your mother had grown to love your father. 

Never did you think you’d marry a prince. You had thought to marry Lorent Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden, and you’d told your father as much when he inquired as to your thoughts on the matter of your betrothal. You’d met Ser Lorent on several occasions and knew him to be brave and kind. A friend, even, and you realized you’d be luckier than most ladies to at the very least be familiar with your betrothed, prior to the arrangement. 

But to hear that an offer for your hand came from Queen Alicent herself, for Prince Aemond, no less? You’d been over the moon. You’d wasted no time in rushing to your rooms to sort through your gowns with your ladies to determine which were suitable for the Red Keep and which would need to be left behind. 

Your mother hadn’t been as astounded as you thought she might have been. Or even proud. Instead, upon hearing the news, your mother had grasped your face in her hands and said, “you’re a lion of the Rock. Never forget that. You are worthy of princes, kings, and beyond. When your father asked, you might have put forth the idea yourself. Don't ever temper your ambitions in such a way.”  

(Later, you would learn it was your elder half-brother Ser Tyland, the King’s Master of Ships, who arranged for the betrothal. And much later than that, you would curse your brother for making you an unwitting pawn in his games.)

Aemond might have been a second son, but a royal match was nothing to turn one’s nose up at. To marry a prince. He may not be the heir and you might never rule by his side, but your children might sit the throne one day, or their children’s children. And to be a Princess of House Targaryen? No wife of a Lord Paramount had that type of power or influence. No, you would not be Queen, nor would your husband sit on the Iron Throne, but your mother and father had taught you the game well. The Lannister name is powerful, and if anyone has forgotten I will remind them of such.

Not a moon’s turn after your father agreed to the betrothal, you set off to King’s Landing with your mother and father in tow. You spent the entire journey from Casterly Rock envisioning what Prince Aemond might be like, if you could grow to love him, or him you. Will he be like King Viserys? Good natured and humble? Or perhaps like the Old King, Jaehaerys, stern but with a deft hand for politics. The day you were to arrive you put on your best dress, gifted to you by your mother, and let your mother brush and braid your hair as she so often had when you were a child. 

You’d stepped out of the carriage and squinted against the bright sun of midday. You could still remember the heat of the sun, and how you thought you might burst into flames. When your eyes adjusted, you smiled upon spotting your half-brother’s Tyland and Jason awaiting you, but your reunion would have to wait. Queen Alicent stood amongst those gathered to greet you and your family, and you’d curtsied low to the Queen. 

Queen Alicent’s welcome had been warm, and your stomach had been coiled into knots as you turned to face those gathered. Your eyes eagerly searched the crowd, but none stood out to you as Prince Aemond. He should be recognizable, yes? He had one eye, after all. Alicent introduced the Princess Helaena, Prince Aegon, the Hand and her father, Ser Otto, but no Aemond. 

The nervous, tight knots in your stomach slithered loose and were replaced by bitter shame and fury. If you thought about it too hard, searched deep enough, the humiliation could still be felt. How could I have already displeased him? Did he deem you so unimportant as to spurn you upon your arrival? I am a Lannister of the Rock. Not some common house cat. Queen Alicent must have noticed the disappointment on your face, for she was quick to offer an excuse as to Aemond’s absence, which you did not care to remember. 

You would not meet your betrothed until later that night at dinner, an affair that you wanted more than anything to forget. Cold and terse, Aemond was nothing like the kind King Viserys, or the much lauded, late King Jaehaerys. He barely said a word to you, but he watched you. The entire meal you’d felt his eye burning into your skin, right to the bone and your very being. He always watched you, Aemond did. You struggled to puzzle out whether it was in distaste or annoyance. 

Before long, a full moon had passed since your arrival, and you felt you hardly knew anything of your betrothed. You shared strolls through the gardens, at Queen Alicent’s behest you were almost certain, and he’d even invited you to share a meal or two. He maintained his chilly and reticent demeanor throughout your interactions, and at first you’d tried to keep the conversations from falling into an uncomfortable lull. He is not like this with Helaena, or even Aegon. Now you let them fall. You wouldn't sully herself by chasing a man who had no interest in you. Prince or not. Even if it condemned you to a cold marriage. 

Perhaps that is unfair. You had made some amount of progress with Aemond. He’d shared with you the story of how he claimed Vhagar, though that was followed with nearly two days of remarkably stony silence. And if nothing else, he was unfailingly polite, no matter his reluctance to share anything deeper with you than common platitudes. He kissed your hand upon greeting you, insisted you call him Aemond rather than my prince, and whenever you walked beside one another, kept your hand tucked into the crook of his arm. Still, he failed to respond to your probing questions with any matter of depth and seemed much more content to watch you with his one eye.

It infuriated you. Everything about your betrothed infuriated you deep to your core, for despite your best efforts, you found herself utterly besotted with him. How could you not be? You did not wish for a cold marriage, least of all with Aemond. Much to your shame, there was something about him that lit a fire deep in your belly. The graceful way he danced around Ser Criston on the training yard sent a thrill down your spine, and the way he towered over you set your heart aflutter. His quiet intensity, the sharp cut of his jaw, his broad shoulders and lithe muscles, everything about him drew you in. You longed to know what it would feel like to run your fingers through his hair, to feel his arms wrapped tight around you. 

This night, it would seem, would be one of brooding and careful distance from your betrothed. Queen Alicent assured you that your dear, beloved betrothed had never been one for tourneys or feasts. The tourney and feast organized to celebrate the birth of Prince Helaena and Prince Aegon’s twins would apparently be no exception to this aversion. 

The Great Hall of the Red Keep had been finely decorated, with hundreds upon hundreds of candles, setting the room awash in a warm glow. Tall shadows flickered and waved upon the grand pillars lining the hall, and someone had strung garlands and other greenery between them. A small group of musicians played from a cleared space to the right of the Iron Throne, and servants flitted about refilling goblets and presenting new courses. Tables had been arranged to provide room for dancing, and even though the meal was far from over, already dancers flocked to the floor.

You sighed and rested your chin in your hand and watched those dancing with longing. Aemond had graced you with a half-hearted dance before returning you to your seat, where you remained. A pity, for Aemond was an exceptional dancer, and he looked particularly handsome that evening. He wore black, as he was wont to do, and his hair shone brilliantly in the candlelight. The shadows played against the sharp lines of his face as he leaned against a pillar in conversation with Ser Criston. When Aemond caught you staring you refused to look away, and he spared you only a brief scowl. 

Am I to remain here by myself the whole feast? Any other feast, and you might have contended yourself with Helaena’s company. You’d grown rather fond of the princess, even if her adoration of bugs churned your stomach. But Princess Helaena had retired early that night, still weary from the birth of the twins. You had no desire to follow suit and depart early. You’d loved feasts back home, and never grew tired of dancing. Tyland or Jason might dance with me. You scanned the hall for your brothers from where you sat, and when you found no sign of them you huffed. 

Across the table, Alicent gave you a tight, thin-lipped smile of pity. For all your betrothed was reserved, his mother was genial and welcoming. The Queen had been nothing but polite since you arrived, and you much appreciated her efforts to get to know you and even enjoyed the weekly, midday meals Alicent invited you to. You might have struck up a conversation with Alicent but she sat beside her father, deep in conversation, and there was something about the Hand which you misliked. She’s like to follow after Helaena before long, anyhow.

A throat clearing behind you startled you, and you peered over your shoulder to find none other than Ser Lorent Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden who you had once thought to marry, grinning down at you.

 “Ser Lorent! I hadn’t thought you to be in attendance!” You returned his grin with a shy smile and offered your hand. Ever courteous and polite, Ser Lorent kissed it. 

“The grandest tournament of the year? Certainly you know me well enough by now to know I wouldn’t miss it, my lady.” You laughed, and insisted Ser Lorent call you by your name, for you were friends, were you not? “I hear congratulations are in order. Where is your betrothed?” Lorent craned his neck and glanced around the hall. 

“Elsewhere. He isn’t overly fond of dancing,” you said. You glanced around the hall but found no sight of Aemond. Has he left me here alone? 

“A pity. You’ll have to dance with me, then.” Lorent held out his hand expectantly, but you faltered. The dutiful thing to do would be to wait for Aemond to return, but another survey of the hall failed to reveal him. I will not sit here and languish. 

“I would love to,” you said, and took his hand and followed him to the floor. You allowed yourself to study your dance partner. Ser Lorent was far from homely with his honey brown curls, which had been neatly swept back, or warm, golden eyes. He’d been blessed with his father’s sharp jaw and aquiline nose, and in another life you might have been content to marry him. He is no Aemond, though. While Lorent did love tourneys, his father had no doubt sent him to take part with the hope he might find a bride. She’ll be lucky, whoever she might be. 

“You look lovely my lady, as always.” Warmth flushed through you at the compliment. Your dress was one of Lannister crimson, and if it was prideful and vain to think that it suited you wonderfully, then so be it. 

As they danced, he asked you of your father and mother, of your brothers and your time spent in King’s Landing thus far. You were so wrapped up in dancing and laughing as he spun you around and around that you didn’t notice how close he’d drawn you, or how his hand had wandered lower and lower on your back. 

“I saw your father, earlier today talking to my father. Though I don’t see him now.” He lifted you in the air along with everyone else, and you let out a peal of laughter. 

“He despises crowds like this. He and my mother left shortly after they finished their meal.” 

“Pity. I had hoped to speak with him, it will have to wait I suppose.” He spun you out and around again and you frowned. 

When they faced each other once more, you asked, “what about?” What could be so important that he speak to your father in person, rather than by letter? 

“I plan to approach him on the morrow. You shouldn’t marry Aemond, he won’t make you happy.” You froze, and it felt as though someone had tied bricks to your ankles. Lorent pulled you along, guiding you through the dance as though nothing was amiss, as if he’d simply commented on the roast boar that had been the main course.

Your father had signed the agreement upon your arrival. He can’t mean to have my father break it? “Lorent–” 

“You know me. You know nothing of him,” Lorent’s words sat queerly in your belly. Aemond hadn’t spoken to you much, but you saw. You saw the way he treated Helaena with a sweet gentleness, the way he treated his mother with respect and love. And Vhagar. His whole being had come alight when you asked him about the dragon, and even a blind fool could have heard the pride and reverence in his words when he spoke of her. He was fierce and cautious, loyal and prideful and dangerous with a sword. And I thought I knew little of him. No, you’d learned much more than you thought. 

“Lorent, what are you saying?” You knew precisely what he was saying, but you hoped, prayed, that you’d taken leave of your senses and were horribly mistaken.

“It should be me you’re marrying, we both know it. Your father told mine you’d chosen me before Queen Alicent wrote him. It isn’t too late.” The warmth in his eyes had grown to a raging inferno, and you increased the distance between you. Or tried to, anyway. You became acutely aware of the vice grip he had on your waist. 

“Lorent please, I’m happy to marry Aemond. It wouldn’t be right to break the betrothal.” You tried to step back, and his hand fell to wrap tightly around your wrist. You frantically looked around, but no one had noticed anything was amiss. I can’t break away, without causing a scene. You didn’t want to cause a scene, Alicent had worked so hard to put the feast together. You could hear your mother’s stern voice in your head, telling you to keep your composure, to comport herself as a lady should, to avoid embarrassing your family before the King, in such a manner. 

“Aemond’s a fool. You’re far too beautiful to be treated in such a way. You know it isn’t right, I can offer you so much more. Highgarden is to be mine, it should be yours as well. It’s meant to be yours alongside me, I’ve always intended it to be so. Ever since your father hosted that tourney all those years ago, and we danced together. Don’t you remember? I said I’d make you my lady if you wished.” You scrutinized your friend’s face, but found nothing of the man you knew. His hair had fallen forward and hung in his eyes, and he’d tugged you close enough to where you could smell sour ale on his breath.

“We were children, Lorent, I wish to marry Aemond. My father will never break the agreement, it’s been signed, Lorent.” Panic constricted your throat and clouded your brain. They still danced, but to your horror he had slowly worked them towards the back of the hall. 

“You wouldn’t have told your father my name if you wished to marry Aemond. It’s okay if you don’t understand now, my lady, you will in time. We can force your father’s hand, if he won’t see reason. He’ll have to break it if your virtue is in question.” He maneuvered them closer and closer towards the back of the hall and the exit. Your heart shuddered and nausea overwhelmed your senses at what he implied.

You didn’t want to marry Lorent, or be the Lady of Highgarden. You wanted Aemond, with his stormy silences and rough hands and quiet, careful consideration. You subtly attempted to yank your arm free again but his grip tightened, and his other hand skirted even lower than it already was. The flush that flared through your blood now wasn’t one of flattery, as it had been earlier. Bitter dread slithered down your spine. “Lorent please let me go, this is hardly—” 

“If you wouldn’t mind, Ser Lorent, I’d very much like to dance with my betrothed.” Aemond’s voice was low and dangerous, and Lorent was quick to release you. Relief coursed through you and you all but leapt backwards towards Aemond. He set a steadying hand on your shoulder. 

Ser Lorent shifted his gaze between you and Aemond, and whatever he opened his mouth to say he must have thought better of, as he only nodded and thanked you for the dance before striding away. 

Aemond’s hand tightened on your shoulder, and he spun you to face him. “You should not have danced with him.” The panic once coursing through you spiked into a furious rage, licking and scorching your spine. Rage at Lorent, for betraying your friendship so easily. Rage at Aemond, however unwarranted, for not coming to your rescue sooner, for behaving as though it pained him to sit by your side for longer than but a moment. 

That he would presume to tell me such a thing, after I tried so hard to free myself from Lorent. “You weren’t there. I don’t belong to you, I can dance with whomever I wish.” 

Aemond hummed low and stared at you a moment, before sharply grabbing your arm and dragging you from the hall. You stumbled to keep space with him as he weaved through the halls of the Red Keep, up one staircase and left around a corner, before turning right down another. Your demands to know just what he thought he was doing fell on deaf ears until he halted and sent you crashing into him. 

You might have fallen if not for Aemond. He clutched your shoulders and crowded you against a wall. You looked around nervously but there was no one to be found, and no one to overhear. Aemond had brought them to a quiet alcove, far from the feast and drunken revelers. 

“Let me go,” you demanded. You made to step around him but he blocked your path and stepped closer to you. “Why do you care who I dance or speak with? You’ve taken no interest in me, I’m inclined to think you have no wish to marry me at all. It should overjoy you that someone desires to take me off your hands.” 

His jaw shifted, and he stepped closer still. “He wishes to marry you? What did he say to you?” 

“Try not to sound so eager, my prince,” you sneered. “There are plenty who would be glad to take me off your hands, to free you from the burden that is my presence.” You didn’t know where this sudden bravery or impertinence came from, nor why you taunted him so. Perhaps you wished to provoke him, to earn some kind of reaction from him other than his usual, stoic countenance. Whatever it was, you made no efforts to quell it. 

Your back hit the wall as Aemond took a last step towards you. His chest brushed hers, and a large hand gripped your chin. It was entirely improper, and there would be hell to pay, if any caught them in such a position. His eye roamed your face and his lip curled in vicious mockery. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Are you really so ashamed of me?” 

“Ashamed? It is you who are ashamed! Would it truly be such a hardship to spend more than a fleeting moment with me? Am I so terrible?” 

“Why? So you can cower in disgust at my eye like everyone else? Or so I can watch you lust after my brother and the throne, like everyone else?” 

“I do not wish to marry Aegon,” you spat. You thought of how he dishonored Helaena, how he openly lusted after other ladies of the court. Poor Helaena, how I would hate to be shackled to such a rake. “And how can I cower in disgust when you’ve never removed the cover?” 

As if to prove a point, Aemond tore the eye patch from his head and let it fall to the floor. The sapphire was a brilliant blue, a spot of beauty amidst an old, ugly wound. The scar was raised and jagged but still; you did not waver. You tentatively raised a hand to gently brush the scar, though when he flinched you withdrew. “I am sorry that happened to you,” you whispered

For a moment, his scowl softened. He frowned down at you before his face hardened once more. “And Ser Lorent? You do not wish to marry him?” His mocking tone returned, but your anger towards Aemond’s presumptions had simmered away. All that was left was humiliation at the way Lorent had grabbed you, and anger towards him for being so cruel. 

“I do not wish to marry Ser Lorent.” Your voice was soft, and all the vitriol swallowed. You studied the collar of his doublet and the fine, subtle embroidery which adorned it. “I only wished to dance with him, I didn’t think he’d be so… terrible. I did not think he’d grab me in such a way, I hadn’t known him to be a cruel man. I tried to pull away. Did you not see?”

“I did not.” The grip he had on your chin remained, but lessened to something more tender and soothing. He nudged your chin until you met his eye. “You’re to be my wife. I would know what he said to upset you so.” 

You hesitated, but never had you seen such an earnest, guileless expression from Aemond directed at you. It struck you then that he was being sincere. You inhaled deep; a fortifying breath. “He intends to go to my father and try to convince him to break our betrothal. I did not want him to touch me in that way, Aemond. I told him I didn’t want any of it, but he wouldn’t listen.” 

The fire in his eye returned with a vengeance, but this time not directed at you. “Is that all?”  When you shifted away from his prying gaze, he gently turned you to face him again. “Tell me.” 

“He made mention of my virtue. He said that if it were in question— that we could use it to force my father’s hand. I don’t wish for that, Aemond. I swear it.” Something he said earlier itched at your mind. “I am not ashamed of you.” 

Aemond placed both hands firmly on either side of your face, forcing you to meet his eye head on. “I will take his hands for hurting you. And his tongue, for suggesting such a thing, if you wish.” 

The cold intensity of his eye belayed any thought you might have had that he was jesting. You settled your hands at his wrists, keeping him from moving. “You needn’t do that, Aemond. It’s not worth the trouble.” 

Aemond grunted and leaned closer, his nose brushing hers. “It would be. You’re to be my wife, not his. Mine.”  And just as swiftly as he’d dragged you from the hall, his lips were on hers. His hand grasped your head, and the other fell to your waist, pressing you to him. 

It was nothing like the sweet, shy kisses you’d shared with the young squires in your youth at Casterly Rock, behind the stables. It was all fire and fury. His teeth scraped her’s and his tongue traced your bottom lip, drawing you deeper into him. He pulled away and your lips chased after him and your hands clenched into his doublet. 

You panted, trying to catch your breath and make sense of the shift in his attentions. “I did not think you wished to marry me,” you sheepishly admitted. “Or that you held any affection towards me at all.” 

He brushed feather-light fingers across your swollen lips. He swallowed hard. “I do not think you horrible, or terrible. It frightens me is all, to have something so precious which might be taken from me just as easily as it’s given.” There is more to it than that. There must be. You resolved to not push the issue tonight. What is he so fearful of, truly? 

This time when he kissed you it was slow and languid, yet still anything but sweet. He stepped back and you whined and pulled him back to you, close enough for his lips to brush hers when he said, “if he thinks to approach you again I’ll have his head. See if I won’t.” 

I would love to write more for Aemond, I have a few ideas but I'd love to know more of what y'all wanna see!

also thank you so so much to everyone who read/liked/reblogged my most recent one shot. ily all of you sm.

Abandon All Hope - Prologue

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary:

A dream has King Viserys making an olive branch of his granddaughter and son in a bid to bind together the two halves of his family, torn asunder by love, whispered lies, and daggers in the night. But dreams are fickle things. One missed step in a dance, and a new path to madness enters the game.

Her mother once said she named her for the dreamer, out of a hope that she'd bring a new dawn upon their house just as their ancestor did so many years ago. Daenys the Dreamer, who dreamt the Doom of Valyria and led House Targaryen across the narrow sea to spare them.

Daenys does not dream of things yet to pass, and she rather thinks herself destined for her own doom. Her Uncle Aemond will make certain of that.

Rating: M, minors I will throw rocks at you if I find out you read this

Word Count: 3.6k

If one were to ask Daenys who amongst the men in her life she loved the most, she might have answered her eldest brother Jacaerys. For he was a man by all the laws of the realm, and had always chased away her tears and kissed her scraped knees. She might even answer that her grandfather, Lord Corlys Velaryon, was the man she loved most. He was always gentle with her and delighted in showing her the treasures he’d collected from his many voyages, and he always had time for her when others didn’t. 

Above all Daenys might have answered that her father, Laenor Velaryon, was the man she loved the best. Her father and his laughing eyes, his gentle hands and bone-crushing hugs; he always told her he loved her best out of all of his daughters, and though Daenys was his only daughter, she clung to his words all the same. Her father always stuck up for her in the face of her brother’s teasing, and he always drove away her nightmares with soft songs or old legends of the sea, passed down from Velaryon to Velaryon.

Even now, she fiddled with the necklace her father gave her on her tenth name-day. She wore it more oft than not, even when it didn’t match the dress she wore. It was, at the time, the finest of all the jewelry she owned, and it was the first necklace that made her feel like a proper lady. A necklace for a woman, not a child. It was a delicate thing of silver, with five, sparkling, aquamarine gemstones that reminded Daenys of the sea. 

“Silver and aquamarine,” her father had said when he gave it to her. “So you might never forget our house. Or me.” She’d thought her father silly to say such a thing, to think she could ever forget that she was a Velaryon or that he was her father. Daenys was proud to be a Velaryon, and she was proud to call Laenor Velaryon her father. 

But Daenys could not answer that her father, Laenor Velaryon, was the one she loved best out of all the men in her life. For her father was dead and had been for almost a year now. And she couldn’t answer her brother Jacaerys, as he was barely two years older than her, and if Jacaerys was a man then she must certainly be a woman, and Daenys did not feel like a woman grown. Nor could she answer that her grandfather Corlys was the one she loved best, because he’d left them all to go fight in the Stepstones once more. 

She most certainly could not answer that her other grandfather, King Viserys, was the man she loved most. He had decided to be the king instead of her grandfather, and Daenys did not love the king.

Continue on AO3

AHH THANK YOU SM ❤️

Abandon All Hope - Prologue

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary:

A dream has King Viserys making an olive branch of his granddaughter and son in a bid to bind together the two hales of his family, torn asunder by love, whispered lies, and daggers in the night. But dreams are fickle things. One missed step in a dance, and a new path to madness enters the game.

Her mother once said she named her for the dreamer, out of a hope that she'd bring a new dawn upon their house just as their ancestor did so many years ago. Daenys the Dreamer, who dreamt the Doom of Valyria and led House Targaryen across the narrow sea to spare them.

Daenys does not dream of things yet to pass, and she rather thinks herself destined for her own doom. Her Uncle Aemond will make certain of that.

Rating: M, minors I will throw rocks at you if I find out you read this

Word Count: 3.6k

If one were to ask Daenys who amongst the men in her life she loved the most, she might have answered her eldest brother Jacaerys. For he was a man by all the laws of the realm, and had always chased away her tears and kissed her scraped knees. She might even answer that her grandfather, Lord Corlys Velaryon, was the man she loved most. He was always gentle with her and delighted in showing her the treasures he’d collected from his many voyages, and he always had time for her when others didn’t. 

Above all Daenys might have answered that her father, Laenor Velaryon, was the man she loved the best. Her father and his laughing eyes, his gentle hands and bone-crushing hugs; he always told her he loved her best out of all of his daughters, and though Daenys was his only daughter, she clung to his words all the same. Her father always stuck up for her in the face of her brother’s teasing, and he always drove away her nightmares with soft songs or old legends of the sea, passed down from Velaryon to Velaryon.

Even now, she fiddled with the necklace her father gave her on her tenth name-day. She wore it more oft than not, even when it didn’t match the dress she wore. It was, at the time, the finest of all the jewelry she owned, and it was the first necklace that made her feel like a proper lady. A necklace for a woman, not a child. It was a delicate thing of silver, with five, sparkling, aquamarine gemstones that reminded Daenys of the sea. 

“Silver and aquamarine,” her father had said when he gave it to her. “So you might never forget our house. Or me.” She’d thought her father silly to say such a thing, to think she could ever forget that she was a Velaryon or that he was her father. Daenys was proud to be a Velaryon, and she was proud to call Laenor Velaryon her father. 

But Daenys could not answer that her father, Laenor Velaryon, was the one she loved best out of all the men in her life. For her father was dead and had been for almost a year now. And she couldn’t answer her brother Jacaerys, as he was barely two years older than her, and if Jacaerys was a man then she must certainly be a woman, and Daenys did not feel like a woman grown. Nor could she answer that her grandfather Corlys was the one she loved best, because he’d left them all to go fight in the Stepstones once more. 

She most certainly could not answer that her other grandfather, King Viserys, was the man she loved most. He had decided to be the king instead of her grandfather, and Daenys did not love the king.

Continue on AO3

Thank you sm!!! I'm really looking forward to delving into their past and the old wounds there.

Also glad you liked that bit with daemon! I giggled when I wrote it so I'm happy others enjoyed it :)

Abandon All Hope - Prologue

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary:

A dream has King Viserys making an olive branch of his granddaughter and son in a bid to bind together the two hales of his family, torn asunder by love, whispered lies, and daggers in the night. But dreams are fickle things. One missed step in a dance, and a new path to madness enters the game.

Her mother once said she named her for the dreamer, out of a hope that she'd bring a new dawn upon their house just as their ancestor did so many years ago. Daenys the Dreamer, who dreamt the Doom of Valyria and led House Targaryen across the narrow sea to spare them.

Daenys does not dream of things yet to pass, and she rather thinks herself destined for her own doom. Her Uncle Aemond will make certain of that.

Rating: M, minors I will throw rocks at you if I find out you read this

Word Count: 3.6k

If one were to ask Daenys who amongst the men in her life she loved the most, she might have answered her eldest brother Jacaerys. For he was a man by all the laws of the realm, and had always chased away her tears and kissed her scraped knees. She might even answer that her grandfather, Lord Corlys Velaryon, was the man she loved most. He was always gentle with her and delighted in showing her the treasures he’d collected from his many voyages, and he always had time for her when others didn’t. 

Above all Daenys might have answered that her father, Laenor Velaryon, was the man she loved the best. Her father and his laughing eyes, his gentle hands and bone-crushing hugs; he always told her he loved her best out of all of his daughters, and though Daenys was his only daughter, she clung to his words all the same. Her father always stuck up for her in the face of her brother’s teasing, and he always drove away her nightmares with soft songs or old legends of the sea, passed down from Velaryon to Velaryon.

Even now, she fiddled with the necklace her father gave her on her tenth name-day. She wore it more oft than not, even when it didn’t match the dress she wore. It was, at the time, the finest of all the jewelry she owned, and it was the first necklace that made her feel like a proper lady. A necklace for a woman, not a child. It was a delicate thing of silver, with five, sparkling, aquamarine gemstones that reminded Daenys of the sea. 

“Silver and aquamarine,” her father had said when he gave it to her. “So you might never forget our house. Or me.” She’d thought her father silly to say such a thing, to think she could ever forget that she was a Velaryon or that he was her father. Daenys was proud to be a Velaryon, and she was proud to call Laenor Velaryon her father. 

But Daenys could not answer that her father, Laenor Velaryon, was the one she loved best out of all the men in her life. For her father was dead and had been for almost a year now. And she couldn’t answer her brother Jacaerys, as he was barely two years older than her, and if Jacaerys was a man then she must certainly be a woman, and Daenys did not feel like a woman grown. Nor could she answer that her grandfather Corlys was the one she loved best, because he’d left them all to go fight in the Stepstones once more. 

She most certainly could not answer that her other grandfather, King Viserys, was the man she loved most. He had decided to be the king instead of her grandfather, and Daenys did not love the king.

Continue on AO3

Abandon All Hope - Chapter 2 (Shadows)

Previous chapter

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Suicidal ideation and self harm, just to be safe. Nothing super graphic. Description of canon injuries (Aemond).

A/N: Quick question. Would y'all prefer I just post the whole chapters here as well as on AO3? Or do you really not care either way?

Daenys long ago decided that there was nothing as beautiful as Dragonstone, when observed from dragonback. The castle, with its stone towers warped to the likeness of dragons, appeared as though it was a part of the island itself. So intertwined were they, Daenys was uncertain the island and castle of a shared name could not exist without the other. 

For all that she tried, Daenys couldn’t fathom why Aegon the Conqueror hadn’t made Dragonstone his seat. There was no sight like it; the Red Keep and King’s Landing could never hope to compare. Especially when the weather was fair, and the sun shone off the dark stone of the castle and the water was blue and lovely. Daenys feared no painter could ever capture its likeness. The greed of time would steal away it. 

The wind was fiercer way up high on dragonback, and it snagged tendrils of Daenys’ hair from her braid with ferocity. The sun, free from Dragonstone’s usual cloudy veil, shone down on them and forced Daenys to squint against it. The air smelt of brine and smoke, a scent so unique to Dragonstone, and it remained strong even high in the air as she soared above the island on Silverwing. It smelt of home.

Silverwing trilled as Daenys ordered her lower to skim over the water, sending water spraying up around them and her stomach into her throat. Daenys never grew used to the plummeting lightness of dragon flight, and she hoped she never did. A delighted squeal of laughter rang from behind Daenys, and she peeked behind her shoulder at her closest friend. Rhae leaned to the side to try to reach the water and Daenys directed Silverwing higher, forcing Rhae to cling to her if she wished to keep her balance. 

At Rhae’s indignant squawk, Daenys giggled. There was no real danger of her falling; Rhae was strapped to the saddle same as Daenys. It’d taken nearly a year for Daenys to convince Rhae to ride Silverwing with her before she relented, and Daenys was glad she hadn’t given up. Flying, she found, was far more fun when she had her friend to share it with. 

“Hold on,” Daenys called over her shoulder. 

“No! Daenys, don’t,” Rhae yelled. She clawed her arms around Daenys’ waist and hurled curses into the wind.

Daenys stretched low on Silverwing’s saddle, and with a sharp tug of the reins, Silverwing tucked her wings close and dove straight towards the water. Wind roared past her ears and stung her eyes, Rhae shrieked and cursed in her ear, and Daenys laughed; breathless though she was. At the last moment Silverwing arced upwards, spiraling and weaving back up into the sky. Daenys floated off her saddle, and were it not for the straps holding them down, both she and Rhae would certainly have found themselves in the ocean.

“You arse!” Rhae smacked Daenys’ arm, but she laughed anyway. Daenys smiled and pulled back on Silverwing’s reins, leveling out and steering her to circle the island. 

From this height, the villages below the castle appeared no more than crumbs to be brushed away and forgotten. Galleys and cogs dallied at the ports, and Daenys espied the purple sails of a Braavosi trading ship passing by, likely en route to Driftmark. With another flick of the reins, Daenys steered Silverwing further around the island towards the Dragonmont. 

Dwarfing aught else on Dragonstone, the Dragonmont was a great, looming beast that spat pale gray smoke from its mouth and vents. As they flew towards the volcano, Silverwing flapped her wings and climbed even higher without Daenys’ command. More villages dotted below the Dragonmont, and shepherds and Dragonkeepers picked their way along the rocky paths that scarred the lower half of the Dragonmont. 

Continue on AO3

Abandon All Hope - Chapter 3 (Alone and Forsaken)

Previous chapter

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical. Description of canon injuries (Aemond). See tags on AO3 for more.

The Queen’s chambers were as they always had been, though Aemond had expected nothing different. His mother’s chambers hadn’t changed for as long as he could remember. There was her grand bed to one side, where he’d often run to for comfort as a boy. The two couches with a table in between, where Helaena often sat when she brought the twins to visit his mother. The green draperies around her windows, the seven-pointed star ornaments and statues of the Seven scattered about the room, the neat stacks of papers and missives at her desk, all of it was familiar and as it ever was. 

Even the large, round table that servants had brought into his mother’s rooms was not entirely out of place. It was a common addition on the occasions that his mother requested they join her for a meal when she wished for more privacy than even the smaller dining halls of the Red Keep could offer. Yet despite the unchanging landscape of his mother’s rooms, shadows danced at the edges of his blind spot, growing larger and bolder at the threat of what the day would bring. 

Aemond absentmindedly adjusted the leather strap of his eyepatch as he took a seat across from Helaena and his younger brother, Daeron. To Helaena’s left sat his mother, and across from her, an empty seat where Aegon ought to have been. It appeared his mother hadn’t the patience to drag her eldest son from his bed that morn. If he even made it back to his chambers last night. If he hadn’t joined them by then, Aegon wouldn’t be joining at all.

It was no matter. His youngest brother Daeron made for far better company than Aegon. He’d arrived just the day before from Oldtown, and the last Aemond had seen of Daeron he’d been awkward and gangly, having just turned ten-and-two. Now, his younger brother was nearly of a height with Aemond, muscled from his time squiring for Lord Ormund and tanned from time spent in the sun. His hair, silver like the rest of his siblings, brushed his shoulders, and he had a small scar above his brow. 

Curious, Aemond had asked Daeron about the scar after their evening meal the previous night. “One of the older squires hit me with his blunted sword not even a moon after I arrived,” Daeron had explained. It sat above his left brow, and it escaped neither of them that the scar was on the same side of his face as Aemond’s. He’d seen his younger brother regarding the leather patch as he spoke, and Aemond had made himself scarce before Daeron could open his mouth to say anything.

As Aemond took his seat, Daeron paused briefly to greet him before continuing with his conversation. “Lord Ormund says I might be knighted before the year is out. There’s hardly anyone who can best me. Even Lord Ormund struggles at times.” He didn’t bother to swallow his mouthful of food before speaking, and their mother eyed him with thinly veiled disgust. 

“I do hope my cousin will remember to teach you manners,” their mother chided. Daeron muttered an apology and sheepishly wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and Aemond’s lips twitched in amusement.

Continue on AO3

You were my man and I your girl

Aemond Taragryen x female reader

Summary: Facing the news of her impending betrothal, she makes a final, desperate act of rebellion. Though when she discovers she is to marry her dear uncle, the man she has longed for since childhood, she realizes she may have ruined their marriage before it even began

Word count: 17.5 K (I need help)

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff, Aegon being kind of a good brother, men having the audacity, jealous Aemond, reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, but no mention of who her father is

~~

“What?”

Rhaenerya winced and bowed her head at the sharp tone. She knew her daughter would not take the news lightly, but she had hoped she could understand the delicate nature of their situation. 

“Darling, I know I told you-”

“Are you alright with this?” She interrupted, turning to Daemon who was sitting stone-faced, hating the news as much as she was. 

He opened his mouth, most likely to spew insults about her soon to be betrothed, but Rhaenrya’s sharp glare quickly quieted him and she turned desperately to her raging daughter. 

“My love, please understand-”

“What is there to understand?” Her daughter continued, her eyes wide, searing with betrayal. “You told me I would have a choice, that I would never be used as some political pawn for power.”

“We are on the verge of a succession war. We all have a duty to perform and as my heir you have your own to fulfill.”

The mention of the fight for succession, the hint as to who exactly she would be marrying did not register in her mind or it would have calmed the burning fire inside her. All she could make out in the maelstrom in her mind was that she was to be married and it was not her choice. 

She remembered, just moons ago, when Jason Lannister had offered his hand. The thought of being forced into the bed of a man decades older than her, power hungry and desperate to take the titles she could give him, made her feel sick to her stomach. 

“I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She told her mother, her voice sounding weaker, knowing she was facing a losing battle. 

Rhaenerya’s face fell, her daughter’s words cutting her deeply, causing an aching pain to bloom in her chest. 

“Please, if you would just listen, you might change-”

“I might change my mind and accept the fact that I’m to be sold like a mare?” She argued and quickly turned on her heel, storming out of the room. 

Rhaenerya pinched the bridge of her nose as she exhaled loudly, her frustration clear. Daemon tapped his fingers against his thigh, his gaze remaining on the empty doorway.

“That went as well as I expected.” He spoke dryly, his expression softening slightly when he saw the tiredness in his wife’s eyes. “She’ll get over it. She’ll eventually stop arguing long enough for you to explain.”

“She’s always been stubborn, but she has never raged like this before. She’s been spending too much time with you.” 

Daemon scoffed, though he couldn’t exactly deny the claim. 

“If she had only let me finish, she would have been happy with the news. She used to be so close to Aemond, I know she’s always cared for him. She barely spoke to me when we left King’s Landing, she was so mad that I had separated them.”

“I still say she can do better than that one-eyed cunt.” 

“Daemon.” Rhaenerya hissed, fighting the urge to smack him upside the head. “It is already done. The King has accepted the betrothal and their union will finally mend the divide between our families.”

~~

Her breathing was labored as she raced through the halls, unsure of where she was heading. Outside, she heard Vermithor’s loud roar, her dragon sensing his bonded rider’s discomfort and anger. She had a fleeting thought of racing to her beloved dragon and flying across the sea, hiding away from her duties for the rest of her days.

The thought was quick to dissolve. She knew Daemon would catch her before she could get Vermithor off the grounds of Dragonstone. 

So that left her to stew in her anger at being forced to marry a man she didn’t love and probably would never love and her hurt that her mother had broken the promise she had told her years ago as a child, that she would never be used a political pawn, that her hand in marriage would never be forced.

She briefly thought of a young boy with silver hair and quickly pushed the thought away when the ache of longing overtook her. 

The thought of the old, greedy, disrespectful lord she was soon to marry made her want to throw up. This was never what she pictured for herself. 

Defeated, she trudged back to her room, her head down, a picture of broken girlhood too many women in this realm knew all too well. 

“Princess, are you alright?” 

She perked up, her eyes meeting the caring gaze of her guard, Ser Darick, standing vigil at her door. 

A twisted idea unfurled inside her, a half-hearted plan of rebellion sparked by the flames of anger that burned brightly. 

She smiled, the gesture bringing one to his own lips. She had always found him handsome, many late nights had been spent with Baela and Rhaena giggling amongst each other about his broad shoulders and silken hair. 

She had no deeper desires for him, that place in her heart was firmly held by the sweet boy she left behind years ago, but it didn’t stop her from noticing the way her guard looked at her. She knew he desired her and the anger inside of her left her wanting for one thing she could control, one thing the man who would soon own her would never have. 

“I’m afraid I need your help with something in my chambers.” She spoke sweetly. Ser Darick nodded eagerly and he followed her inside. 

She closed the door behind them, causing him to turn back to look at her, his brows furrowed in confusion as he noticed the pristine state of her chambers. 

“Princess-?”

“I see how you look at me, Ser Darick.” She stated bluntly, vindicated from the way his eyes widened and averted from her gaze. “There’s not many things in my life that I get to choose and I’d like you to help me make one last choice before my freedom is taken from me.”

“I don’t understand.” 

She untied the laces of her dress, allowing it to fall from her shoulders, leaving her in a sheer slip. The man before her choked on his breath, the hunger in his eyes making her heart race, she knew he wanted her. She stepped towards him, her hands running over the expanse of his chest. 

“We shouldn’t. I swore an oath-”

“To protect me.” She finished his sentence. “I think this is exactly the protection I need.” She smiled cheekily. 

She pulled the shift over her head, leaving her body bare to him and she knew the second he gave in as his eyes took in every inch of her body. He dropped his hand from the hilt of the sword on his hip and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as he crashed his lips to hers. 

She smiled in between kisses, feeling like she had her power back as she undid the pieces of armor from his body. 

She steadily ignored the guilt that crept through her mind, guilt for defying her mother and her duty. Moans fell from her lips as her guard took her hard and fast, his hunger for her clear in the way he held her tightly, in the way he refused to part his lips from any inch of her body. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the image before her melt into one of the silver haired, one-eyed man she longed for. A shiver wracked her body, her toes curling at the images she conjured in her mind.

She bit her lip, stopping herself from letting the wrong name fall from her lips as she reached her peak. As the man above her shuddered to his end, her name bellowed in the quiet room, she thought of how Aemond would sound saying her name in rapture. 

As Ser Darick panted against her lips, his body collapsing against hers, she let herself indulge in the passionate touch of another and mourned for what she believed her future would hold. 

~~

Aemond was sitting stiffly in the same spot he had been for the last ten minutes, since his mother had told him the news. 

He couldn’t make sense of the emotions whirling within him. Relief was the first one he could pinpoint, but it quickly turned to guilt, soon to remorse, and then to the sham of disdain he had tried so hard to feel for her since the night he had lost his eye. 

Though no matter how hard he had tried to hate her like he hated the rest of her family, he found he could never conjure any for her. She never ridiculed him the way Aegon and her bastard brothers had, she was never a part of the cruel jokes and pranks they pulled on him. They were both young Targaryen’s without dragons and had found solace in their shared longing. Despite her own perceived shortcoming, she never wavered in the comfort she bestowed upon him. 

She spent many nights holding his hand, reassuring him he was worthy of a dragon when the teasing became too much for him to handle. She stuck up for him like no one else ever had. She even looked down upon her own brothers, scolding them for their immature teasing and jokes at his expense. 

 He remembered the worst night of his life, as his family splintered with the loss of his eye and the insults he had hurled at the Strong bastards.

But he always remembered how she had tearfully screamed at her own brother for what was done to him. He remembered when hours later, she snuck into his room, hugged him tightly and told him how proud she was that he had claimed Vhagar. 

He remembered how just a year later he had heard the news she had laid claim to the wild dragon, Vermithor. He wanted so badly to saddle his own dragon and make his way to her, to tell her how proud he was of her the same way she had praised him. 

But his mother had never had allowed it 

He could never hate her. She was never just another one of Rhaenyra’s bastard children and as much as he tried to tell himself to remain neutral, he couldn’t help but feel relieved at the news of his mother’s reluctant acceptance of their betrothal, one he had longed for but never had hope of ever coming to fruition. 

“Aemond?”

His mother’s voice broke him from his thoughts and he turned his attention towards her, attempting to remain stoic so he would not reveal his true feelings about the news. 

“Tell me if this is truly what you want. If not, I will tell Rhaenyra the betrothal is off.” 

Panic grew at the thought of his mother, or even his scheming grandfather, taking this away from him before he even got the chance to revel in it. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair.

“It’s alright, Mother. I will perform my duty.” 

Alicent smiled and reached over to place her hand over his. She adored her son and his strong sense of duty that was certainly lost to his older brother. Despite his attempts to remain stone-faced, Alicent knew her son too well, she knew what he truly longed for. 

She remembered how close he had been with Rhaenyra’s eldest child and she knew how devastated he had been when she had left for Dragonstone. Aemond had refused even meeting possible suitors for years and she could see his desire to shut her down as she mentioned the betrothal.

Until she had mentioned the Princess’ name.

It had shut him up quickly and he had stayed quiet, taking in the news with a contemplative expression that was all too familiar on her stoic boy’s face. 

But it was the slightest twitch of his lips upwards and the way he seemed to exhale in relief, every inch of his body losing its rigidity that told Alicent this was the right decision. Despite her ire for Rhaenerya and her children, the thought of an impending war was not something she wanted and it would clearly make her son happy, an emotion she did not often see him indulge in. 

She smiled and squeezed his hand. 

“They will arrive in a few day’s time. We will start preparations for the wedding as soon as possible.” 

With her parting words, Aemond was left to remain sitting, leaning on his elbow as his hand covered his mouth, trying to make sense of the emotions he was feeling that were so foreign to him. He wasn’t used to getting what he wanted. 

It didn’t seem real. 

~~

By the next morning, with an awkward passing smile to Ser Darick, she was headed towards the dining hall, her pace slow, as if she could delay greeting her family. She felt as though there was now an enormous target on her back, letting everyone she passed know what she had done the previous night. 

“Darling,”

She startled, placing a hand over her chest and plastering on a smile as she greeted her mother stiffly.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mother. I just… didn’t sleep well last night.”

Rhaenyra frowned and linked her arm through her daughter’s. “I know last night was difficult, but I think you’ll come around to it.”

She tensed, picturing the cruel, power hungry lord she’d be chained to for the rest of her life.

“Mother-”

“If you had let me finish, you would have heard that I have betrothed you to Aemond.”

She abruptly stopped in her tracks, almost causing her mother to trip over her own feet. Rhaenyra looked back at her daughter, expecting to see pure joy cross her features but she was confused to see the anguish in her expression.

She stepped towards her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her hand caressing down the length of her hair.

“Darling, what’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy with the news, I know how much you care for him.”

The lump in her throat grew so tight, she worried she’d choke to death before she could voice her mistake. The guilt that had already been lingering beneath her skin grew tenfold, threatening to knock her right off her feet.

“But… the Queen… she’d never agree.”

“She did.” Rhaenyra confirmed, still perplexed by her daughter’s reaction. “The King made his decree, something even she cannot dictate. With you as my heir, Aemond will be King Consort. I guess she realizes that was as good a consolation as she would get.”

It was real. She was to marry Aemond, the man she had longed for for years. She hadn’t even been reunited with him and she had already betrayed him. 

“Mother-” She paused, taking in a ragged breath, her hand holding tightly to her mother’s arm for stability. “I… I did something stupid.”

Rhaenrya’s face twisted into an expression of concern and she quickly ushered her daughter through the halls into the privacy of her chambers. She sat on her bed, her hand held tightly to her daughter’s as she tearfully explained what she had done the night before.

The first emotion to rise was a dangerous protective anger. 

Rhaenyra sprang to her feet, her hands clenched into fists and she grinded her teeth. 

“If that man did anything to pressure you-”

“Mother, stop. He didn’t do anything I didn’t ask him to do.” Her daughter assured her, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment at having to explain her indiscretion. 

Her words caused her mother to sigh and begin to pace. 

“Aemond can never- Alicent can never know about this.” 

“What?”

“This betrothal is tenuous, it took months for Alicent to give in, it took months for the decree to even make it to my father. The first sign of a crack, she’ll tear it apart, her and that lecherous father of hers.” Rhaenrya ranted.

Guilt burned through her veins, the thought that her stupid decision could ruin her family made her feel sick. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. I just… the thought of being married to some old man-”

“Oh my love.” Rhaenyra took a seat next to her daughter, taking her hands in her, pressing a kiss to her shaking knuckles. “Do not blame yourself.”

“This was the path to peace and I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Rhaenyra spoke sternly, as if speaking it into existence with her mere words. She gave her daughter a weak smile, her actions all too familiar to her.  “You know I was about your age when I had the same idea of a rebellion against duty.”

Her daughter looked at her curiously, but Rhaenyra’s heavy sigh was indicative that she didn’t want to spare too many details of that fateful night when Daemon had taken her to a brothel that led her to bring Ser Criston to her bed. 

She shouldn’t have been surprised that her dragon of a daughter had rebelled just as similarly as she had all those years ago.  

A half-hearted plan began to form, one based on tenuous lies, but it was all she had. 

“We’ll switch rotations, you’ll never have to see Ser Darick again. We’ll go to King’s Landing, you will marry Aemond and they will all be none the wiser about what happened last night.”

“Will you tell Daemon?” She asked fearfully.

Rhaenyra let out an amused huff of laughter. “Not unless you want your guard tortured and torn limb from limb.”

Sensing her daughter’s lingering anxiety, she placed a kiss on her forehead. 

“No one will ever know.”

A shuddering breath escaped her. She prayed to the Seven her mother’s words were true. 

~~

Aemond stood tensely in the courtyard with his family, his hands firmly planted behind his back, the picture of royal stoicism. He just hoped no one could see how his fingers fidgeted behind his back, his nerves getting the better of him.

It had been six long years since he had seen her, since that last visit she had paid him where she had mourned his injury with him and kissed his cheek, a moment that left him wondering if he would live with a blush on his cheeks for the rest of his life.

An elbow to his side forced him out of his daze and he turned to see Aegon’s smug smirk as he gestured with his head at the oncoming carriage. 

“Creaming your pants yet?”

Aemond sneered at his brother, his jaw clenching as he turned himself to face straight ahead, steadily ignoring the amused smirk sent his way at his expense. 

His heart began to race as the carriage door opened, anticipation heavy on his shoulders. With every face he saw that wasn’t hers his impatience began to rise, holding back a glare to her brothers who exited first. 

He didn’t pay attention as his mother and Rhaenyra greeted each other awkwardly. He didn’t spare his nephews a second look. All he saw was her. He perked up the moment his gaze found her, his lips parting unknowingly, no longer holding strongly to the passive facade he had forced all day.

She had grown into a beautiful woman in the past six years. He had pictured this moment for so long and none of his late night fantasies could ever compare to the woman before him. 

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture as she stepped towards him. For years he had tried so hard to push down the feelings of longing that arose at the thought of her. For so long he had forced himself to believe she was nothing more than an enemy, a bastard girl that deserved nothing. 

But as she stood in front of him now, grown and more beautiful than he could have ever conceived, he realized it was all a farce. Every hateful thought he had forced into his head about her was nothing more than a lie. 

“Prince Aemond.” She greeted with a small curtsey, the small smile curling on her lips capturing his eye effortlessly. 

After a few seconds, he suddenly realized he hadn’t spoken a word, a brief flash of panic racing through him at the embarrassment that he had been merely staring at her like a fool.

“Princess.” He responded slightly bashfully as he bowed his head. 

The air surrounding them was awkward, both with so many things to say that had been left unsaid for years, complicated feelings that went unresolved for so long. 

But they were to be married in a mere week's time. The family drama that cut through their childhood bond did not need to be addressed, they had no choice but to accept the inevitable. 

He would be her husband no matter if he came to terms with the delusion he had forced for years. He would be her husband no matter if he had unlearned everything his mother and grandsire had instilled in him for years. 

~~

A welcome feast had been thrown in their honor. The table of royals had been a sight of strain as the ailing King gave his remarks to the room, welcoming his dear eldest daughter back to King’s Landing, lamenting the union of their divided family through the marriage of his first granddaughter and his second son. 

The stifling tension among their family remained throughout the celebration. With the secret weighing heavily on her, she felt as though she couldn’t even spare a glance at her betrothed without choking on the intense guilt she couldn’t shake. 

As the heir of the heir and a coveted Targaryen Princess, her mother’s only daughter, she was practically forced to remain on the dancefloor all night, indulging in the many noble Lords and their sons that offered their hand. 

“Mind if I cut in?”

She almost audibly sighed in relief at the sound of her brother’s voice, taking the place of the obnoxious boy who had accosted her for three dances. Since the feast began, she’d been approached by more Lords than she could count. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly as he began to dance with her.

“I’m fine.”

“You say the word and I’ll take you back to Dragonstone.”

“Jace.” She scolded, giving him a pointed look. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you, Sister.” He defended. “You’re about to marry the man that tormented us as children.”

She frowned, her eyes drifting to Aemond who sat at the head table, eyeing the dancing couples with disinterest. The sight of his eye patch was like a punch to the gut, the memory of what had happened that night was enough to bring tears to her eyes. 

“If I remember correctly, it was you, Lucerys and Aegon that tormented him as children.”

“He called us bastards.”

“And he lost an eye.” She reminded him tersely. “I’d say that more than evens the odds.”

Jace sighed heavily, the conversation weighing heavily on him. He wasn’t proud of his actions that night or how he had treated his uncle as children, but the guilt wasn’t enough to allow him to feel happy for this union. 

“He’s different now.” Her brother mumbled. “He seems… angry.”

“Can you blame him?” 

Jace sighed again to which she sent him a pointed look. It was as if it pained him to admit his guilt, to admit that their uncle wasn’t the villainous enemy he had built up in his head. He looked at his sister thoughtfully, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Is this truly what you want?”

“What I want doesn't matter, Jace.”

“It does. Especially if you are to be married to a man that would make you miserable.” 

She remained quiet, contemplating his words with confliction. Misery was never a feeling that followed the thought of her uncle. She knew their marriage could be great, that they could foster a beautiful love, but only if he let it and only if he never discovered her betrayal. 

As the song ended and Jace moved from her side to spare a dance with an impatient Baela, she floundered for a moment, eyeing her brother and his betrothed for a moment, their delighted smiles, the clear fondness they held for each other stirring envy within her. 

She wondered if her own marriage would bear the same smiles. 

She looked around, dread settling inside her as her gaze passed over the many other noble sons that wanted their chance to dance with her. It was the last thing she wanted. 

With a heavy breath, she pushed her way through the throng of dancing couples and slunk out onto the balcony, hoping no one had noticed her swift exit and moved to follow. It had been years since she’d been in King’s Landing, it seemed the novelty of her family had not waned. 

It was as if everyone wanted a piece of her. She loathed it. 

Only a minute later, she heard footsteps approaching and she grit her teeth, her peace seeming to be taken from her as quickly as she had gained it. She turned her head and her eyes widened at the sight of Aemond stepping out onto the balcony. 

He startled slightly when he noticed her and smiled, a gesture that was weak and awkward, though it managed to bring an equally weak smile to her own lips.

“I didn’t mean to impose.” He began, sounding slightly stilted. 

“You aren’t.” She assured him. “I can leave if you wish to be alone.”

He eyed her for a long moment, as if surprised by her request, but he just shook his head and approached her slowly so he was standing at her side. 

“This is where I seem to find myself during these events, when I need to get away. I presume you are out here for the same reason.”

“Yes, I fear my feet have grown too tired to indulge in another dance.” She replied, hoping her words didn’t sound as dour to him as they did to her own ears.

Aemond seemed to grimace, the reminder of the many lords who had taken her hand for a dance stirring something within him he didn’t quite recognize. He didn’t care for it. 

“I probably shouldn’t have left, I just…”

“Needed a minute.” Aemond supplied as she trailed off. She nodded bashfully, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly hyper aware of her appearance as she realized this was the first time she had been alone with Aemond in years.

They were no longer childhood friends, they were betrothed. It was enough to drive her nerves to a boiling point where she could no longer meet his eye.

He stepped closer to her so he was leaning against the railing next to her, mirroring her position, an act that signaled ease.

“I had an interesting conversation with your brother.”

Her eyes widened. That was the last thing she had been expecting him to say. She was surprised Lucerys even listened to her request, that he had even attempted to approach the man he had scarred.

“I have a feeling that was your doing.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze and every fear she had that she had crossed the line faded in an instant as she saw the gratitude in his expression. 

“You have no obligation to forgive him.”

Aemond huffed out a laugh and bowed his head slightly. “Those were the exact words your brother said as well.”

She inwardly cursed her brother. He wasn’t supposed to say word for word what she had asked of him. 

“I just wished to solve the rift in our family. We can’t very well expect a happy marriage if we spend our time hating each other.”

“I never hated you.” Aemond responded quickly, his brows now furrowed as he moved in closer to her. “I may have.. complicated feelings for your brothers, but I… I never felt any of that towards you.”

She felt her breath hitch, her throat feeling tighter, as if she suddenly forgot to breathe with him so close to her. 

“Are you truly content with marrying a bastard?” 

Aemond flinched, her words so unexpected, he involuntarily took a step back, asif his instincts were telling him to run far from this conversation and never look back. He spoke her name softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’ve whispered about our parentage our entire childhood. Am I to believe the sentiment now means nothing to you?” Her voice was cutting, but not with anger. She just sounded disappointed and somehow, Aemound found it so much worse.

“I never called you- it was never…” He stammered for a moment before sighing heavily, his teeth gritting as he looked out onto the horizon, desperately trying to find the words he needed to tell her she was never a part of the ire he held for her brothers. 

She watched him, a deep part of her feeling satisfaction to see him flounder as he was. She held much affection for Aemond, especially in their childhood, but his affliction for calling her brothers ‘Strong’ was always a source of hurt and caused many petty arguments between them before they had been separated.

“It was never about you.” He admitted quietly.

“They are my brothers, Aemond. I am not absolved from what you say about them.”

“But you are.” 

Her breath was stolen from her at the gravity of his words, at the sincerity she heard from him. She eyed him cautiously for a long moment, trying to gauge just what she felt for the man before her now, no longer the shy and sweet boy she had once known. 

She longed for him, but she wasn’t sure if the person she desperately desired even existed any more. 

But with how he looked at her, how hard he seemed to be trying to appease her, left her feeling defenseless against her own fears. 

“Why did you never write to me?” She asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, as though she regretted even posing the question. 

An expression crossed his face that she couldn’t recognize. He looked tortured, as if the mention of the part he played in their loss of friendship all those years ago brought him pain. The letters he received from her that were left unanswered had grated on him for years. 

Years ago, he had even written a letter to her to apologize for his silence, but his mother had caught him, tore the letter to shreds and warned him not to reach out to Rhaenyra’s bastard daughter, that he would only get hurt again if he dared to reconnect with them. 

“I never wished to ignore you.” He spoke softly. “It was just, after what had happened on Driftmark, my mother-”

“I understand.” She interrupted. The state of their family wasn’t the fault of themselves alone, their mothers had a complicated relationship they could barely comprehend. It was no fault of their own that they listened to the vitriol their mothers spoke in their years of hurt. 

“I never wanted to ignore you.” He repeated, as if he was desperate for her to believe him. 

The years of hurt that had cut her heart deeper and deeper with every unanswered letter she had sent slowly began to heal as she looked into his eye and saw the reverence with which he gazed at her. 

“I am willing to put the years behind me. If we are to be married, I don’t want there to be animosity between us.”

“There isn’t, at least on my part.” He assured her, looking to her hopefully, almost holding his breath for her next words.

“There is none on mine either.”

He nodded, the relief coursing through him feeling like the antidote to the years of guilt and sadness that surrounded his thoughts of her. His gaze met hers and the small smile, more genuine than the one she had greeted him with, caused his own to grow, a gesture that was no longer forced, but now one of hopeful excitement. 

The prospect of marriage no longer seemed so daunting.

~~

In the days leading up to the wedding, they didn’t see much of each other. 

She felt more lonely in the place she used to call home than she had expected. While she had her family, it was clear they were all on edge about the upcoming wedding and hadn’t exactly settled being in the Keep where the Hightower influence reigned supreme. 

She found herself taking Vermithor out daily to escape the tension among her family. 

The only peace she found was amongst the clouds, where the air was thinner, stealing the breath from her lungs. It was as if the reminder that there were things more dangerous than her own family was a comfort to her situation.

Suddenly, the earth shattering roar of a great beast sounded behind her, startling her. She turned quickly, her eyes widening as she saw the enormous figure of Vhagar taking to the skies, her gargantuan form heading towards her.

She watched the creature in awe, the great war dragon, centuries older than her, gliding through the skies like a beautiful relic. 

“It’s alright.” She soothed the dragon below her who grumbled at the unexpected presence of another. 

She kept her head turned, her eyes trailing the hulking figure that grew closer. A small smile curled on her lips as she spotted the silver hair of her betrothed atop his mighty dragon. 

As Vhagar approached, their eyes met, shared smiles passing between them. She gripped onto the reins in her hands and directed Vermithor forward, her large dragon diving towards the water below them. 

A trilled call from behind made her smile, knowing Vhagar was following suit. She looked over her shoulder, a warmth building within her as she saw Aemond guiding his dragon to follow her every move. 

The two of them didn’t share any words as they flew together in solidarity. She laughed as Vermithor let out a grumble of content. Her dragon suddenly titled, moving in closer to the dragon at his side, almost bumping the dragon beside them. 

She froze momentarily, gripping onto the reins tighter, preparing for an adverse reaction from the surly war dragon, but she could only watch in disbelief, her lips parting in awe as Vhagar crooned, a sound she had never heard from a dragon before, and bumped her head against Vermithor’s, a gesture that seemed almost affectionate.

She laughed, the warmth within her chest that had been stirring, now in full bloom. She turned to Aemond who watched the dragons with a small, amused smile. His head turned, their eyes meeting and as though a force greater than anything they had ever felt before, they couldn’t look away. 

As he looked at her, that lone blue eye encroached by a softness that was so familiar to her, she felt as though she was once again face to face with that boy she had loved all those years ago.

~~

Their wedding was a beautiful affair. 

No one would know it was a union between a fractured family. Though, it seemed as though their wedding was already stitching their broken family back together. Or it may have something to do with the amount of wine consumed. She noticed Helaena smiling happily as she danced with Jace. Aegon was drunkenly laughing with Luke who was smiling awkwardly, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else as Rhaena laughed on in his playful torment. 

Daemon sat next to his brother King, his smile soft as they spoke together intently. Her mother sat with Queen Alicent, the two of them deep in conversation, their hands finding each other as they descended into bouts of laughter like they were nothing more than two young girls again.

The sight made her happy. She knew her mother missed her old friend dearly and it looked as though Alicent had missed their friendship just as deeply. 

“Are you ready?” 

She turned on her heel to find Aemond, her husband, standing before her anxiously, his face a mask of anxious anticipation as he held his hand out to her. 

She swallowed and nodded stiffly, taking his hand as nerves as heavy as lead built within her. It was time for the bedding. Every happy thought in her head was gone in an instant as she suddenly could focus on nothing but the secret she kept from him. 

As he guided her out of the hall, her eyes met her mother, her face now serious, giving her a slow, knowing nod, reminding her to stay silent, to perform her duty and act as an untouched maiden. 

They walked in silence, the tension between them growing. 

They had been in a daze practically the entire day, their smiles shy yet glowing as they spoke their vows in the Sept, as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife. 

Their true first kiss had been years ago when they were merely eight years old. She had kissed him after he had yet another unsuccessful bout in the dragon pit and had stolen a chaste kiss as she brushed the dirt from his cheeks. 

She had never seen him turn so red before. 

They were a long way from those innocent children they had been.

“Are you alright?” He asked, startling her out of her long lost thoughts. She looked at him and was surprisingly relieved to see he looked just as nervous as she was sure she looked. 

“I am.” She assured him with an awkward smile. “Are you?”

“Yes.” He answered quickly, too quickly to portray any calmness about their current predicament. 

Their hearts were racing as they stepped inside their new marital chambers. She immediately moved to the vanity, working on removing the many pins from her hair that had been pinching her all night.

She sighed dramatically as the pressure on her skull was relieved and the sound of an amused hum, an almost sounding laugh, caught her attention. She looked over her shoulder to see Aemond watching her thoughtfully. 

The sight of him, the small upturn of his lips, the desire in his eye, should have stirred her own, but all she could feel was all consuming nerves. 

Tonight she’d have to lie to him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

His words startled her, her eyes widening slightly, not having expected the compliment. She smiled bashfully, trucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously as her gaze fell to the floor between them.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t told you that yet tonight. I haven’t told you since you’ve been back.” 

She was surprised by how forward he was, his words so sincere yet so different from the man she knew stood before her. 

It seemed she wasn’t the only one who longed for this marriage to be one of peace, to heal the wounds that had been so deeply ingrained in their family for so long. 

He approached her slowly, the look in his eye one she had never seen before. Desire. He reached out, his hand moving to her jaw, his touch light as he held her as if he were afraid she would flee. 

Her hands almost shook as she laid them across his strong chest, beginning to slowly undo the intricate buckles that covered him. 

He let her undo each one, the sound of his own heavy breath betraying his nerves. Once his chest laid bare before her did he finally pull her in close to him, his gaze locked on hers as he leaned in close before finally kissing her. 

He was soft, though as she responded to his kiss, he met her with fervor, portraying every ounce of pent up desire he’d unknowingly held for her for so long. He kissed her as if she were the very air he breathed. 

Her mind was a mess of thoughts, swirling with desire and agony as she desperately wished his lips had been the first she kissed so passionately, that his touch that tightened on her waist as he undid the laces on her gown, were the first hands to touch her so intimately. 

She couldn’t break herself from the thoughts as they moved to the bed. She couldn’t stop the heavy feeling of regret that tainted every one of his touches and fervent kisses. 

Her chest heaved, her guilt portraying as nerves for a perceived first bedding. Aemond ran his hands up the length of her thighs, his touch, which should have caused butterflies to fly rampant within her, only reminded her of the man who had touched her previously. 

He kissed her softly as he settled himself atop her. 

“I’m sorry… this- it might hurt you.”

The claw of guilt inside her turned into a fist that clenched tightly and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

“It’s alright.” She breathed out.

He kissed her again though the gesture, filled with so much affection, did little to soothe her as he intended to. 

She kept her eyes on the ceiling, the guilt keeping her from looking at her husband, from seeing the eagerness in his gaze as he took her for the first time.

He eased inside of her slowly, the sound of his breath stuttering catching her attention, almost enough to incite her own arousal if her mind wasn’t tainted with worry, of suddenly being found out and ruined before she even got to enjoy her marriage.

With hatred for herself burning hotly within her she mimicked a sound of discomfort as he settled inside her. 

“Are you alright?” He asked slightly breathlessly, his gaze looking down at her in concern. 

She nodded stiffly, her throat tight as she met his eye. She soon wondered if the guilt would stop her breathing before he could even finish. 

She tried her best to forget about the glaring guilt, she tried not to think about her night with Ser Darick, of the man who touched her before that shouldn’t have. She should’ve been in ecstasy to finally be laying with the man she had dreamed of for years, but as he moved inside her, she couldn’t help but wince, her lack of arousal keeping her from enjoying what she had desired for so long. 

It at least helped with her charade of the innocent maiden who feared the marriage bed. 

She watched her husband with barely contained emotion as his eye closed in pleasure, his lips parted with heavy breaths, the sound of his quiet moans had her wishing she could go back in time and never invite that Knight into her bed. 

As she watched him find his pleasure, as he stuttered out her name in delight, she knew she could never hurt him. She could never reveal her secret for she could never cause him pain. 

Above her, Aemond stiffened, his hips losing momentum, his grip on her hips tightening as he lost himself to his pleasure, a loud grunt falling from his lips as he reached his peak. 

She exhaled loudly, an empty feeling settling within her, the guilt and anger at herself melding into self-loathing despair. 

“I hurt you.” He breathed out, sounding pained as his hand cradled her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. 

“I’m ok.” She assured her, though with how stilted her voice sounded, she knew he didn’t believe her. 

He pulled out of her slowly and moved to lay next to her, his worried gaze never leaving hers. He moved his hand to rest at the back of her neck, gently urging her forward so his forehead could rest against hers. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and she felt her eyes sting with more tears, his affection stirring the loathing that lashed her like a whip.

She shook her head and leaned into him, grasping onto his hand, holding tightly. 

“I wish we could have had this earlier.” She whispered, the only admittance she could allow herself. 

Aemond smiled softly and kissed her again, his touch gentle and careful, as if he worried about hurting her more. 

“So do I.” 

He held her as she struggled to sort out of her emotions, unaware of the torment within her. 

~~

By the next morning, she woke from a tumultuous sleep to find herself alone in bed. 

Her heart began to race as she propped herself up, dread coursing within her veins as she suddenly feared the worst. That, somehow in the night, Aemond had figured out the truth and left in a rage, leaving her behind before she could even enjoy what they could’ve had. 

“Good morning.”

The sound of his voice broke her out of her dark thoughts and she turned abruptly to see her new husband strolling in through the open balcony doors. He smiled lightly, looking slightly bashful to see her in such a vulnerable state, as if he hadn’t laid with her just hours before. 

“The maids brought breakfast.” 

She nodded and moved to peel the covers off her, hiding her wince at the flare of discomfort at the back of her thigh from where she had given herself a small cut after her husband had fallen asleep, using the small wound to stain the sheets with her blood that would not fall between her tainted legs. 

She stood from the bed, oblivious to how Aemond’s eye followed the length of her body with intrigue as she reached for her robe. They shared small smiles, the air of awkwardness lingering as they stepped out onto the balcony together. 

She immediately moved to pour herself a cup of tea, taking a much needed sip of the hot drink, praying it would soothe her frayed nerves. As Aemond took a seat next to her, she poured a second cup, adding a spoonful of honey before sliding it over to him. 

His gaze remained on her, as if in awe, as she took another sip. 

Feeling his eye on her, she turned, her brows raising in question at the beseeched expression on his face. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked slowly and he nodded, clearing his throat, leaning his elbow on his knee as his curled fist covered his lips, covering the smile that began to grow. 

“You remembered how I take my tea in the morning.” He spoke softly. 

She felt her stomach twist, this time for reasons completely different from the regret that had been staunchly drowning her since the night before. 

“Of course I did.” She said quietly with a shrug. “I wouldn’t forget anything about you.”

Her words, the knowledge that she had thought of him just as he had thought of her, had longed for him just as he had longed for her all those years they were separated, had a warmth spreading through him he had never felt before. 

Any trepidation he had about the marriage, any qualms he had about Rhaenyra taking her place on the throne, of his nephews back in King’s Landing, shattered in an instant. Everything else seemed so inconsequential to him now that he married her, now that he got to call her his wife. 

He reached out, slightly hesitantly, his heart racing as he placed his hand over hers. 

Their eyes met and it was as if an understanding passed between them, a final puzzle piece falling into place. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

She nodded quickly and smiled as he leaned in. Their lips met in a gentle, unhurried kiss that was filled with quiet affection, the meeting of a new husband and wife who had just come to an understanding, who had put away years of complicated feelings and settled to live as the pair of childhood companions that felt nothing but love for each other.

As he kissed her, she forced herself to move past the pain in the back of her thigh. Under his assured yet gentle touch, she forced her guilt and regret to the depths of her mind, desperate to find peace with him. 

~~

Over the next couple of months, their marriage flourished in ways neither one of them had expected. Their time spent together had seemed to heal every slight from their childhood, leaving the both of them feeling lighter, no longer shrouded in the guise of hatred. 

It would take time for Aemond to come around to her brothers, but he was finding it easier to let go of the fury that used to permeate every thought of them. They were by no means friends, but it was at least becoming easier to simply look at them, to exist among them. 

One morning, as Rhaenyra and Alicent took their morning tea together in the gardens, they caught sight of the newly married couple, arm in arm, barely an inch of space between them. 

“They are quite the match.” Alicent remarked with a smile as she looked at her son, the easy expression on his face a far cry from the scowl that had become all too familiar from her second son. 

“They are.” Rhaenyra agreed, relief flowing through her as she heard her daughter’s laugh from across the yard, watching as she leaned into her husband. 

She was more than thankful her dear daughter’s secret remained. 

“I am sorry I took so long to agree to their union.” Alicent admitted almost shyly. “To see my Aemond as he is now, so carefree, so… unburdened with her. I regret that my hesitation caused him to suffer for longer than he needed to.”

Rhaenyra frowned and reached out, taking her friend’s hand, curling her fingers around her own. 

“There is nothing to forgive. They are happy now… we are happy now. That is what matters.”

Alicent smiled, her eyes filled with emotion she hadn’t let herself reveal for so long. She squeezed Rhaenyra’s hand in silent comfort. 

“I have heard the maids gossiping. It sounds as though it will not be long until there is a new babe to care for.” 

Rhaenyra’s jaw dropped, a scandalized laugh escaping her as she looked at her friend, usually so demure, in disbelief. 

“Oh gods, do not let them know they are being gossiped about.” 

Alicent giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“I would never. I do not think my son would ever return to court if that were the case.”

“They are late to every dinner. Surely they know it is not much of a secret what they are doing.” Rhaenyra commented, descending them both into laughter once more.

While the both of them laughed as though they were young girls again, the two of them couldn’t help but feel as though an enormous weight had been lifted from their shoulders, allowing them to breathe easier. 

The union between their children gave them what they needed, what they were desperately hoping for. The fact that their children were just as happy with each other was everything they needed to heal themselves. 

They soon lost sight of their children and, judging by the gossip they heard from the maids, they thought they preferred not knowing exactly what they were getting up to.  

It was for the better because the second Aemond had enough of the desire raging through his body, he had dragged his wife back to their chambers, only a mere hour after they had left it for the morning. 

He couldn’t get enough of her. 

He could barely get through his day without succumbing to his fire that burned hotly for her. Their walk in the garden, their duties for the rest of the day were long forgotten as he took her roughly atop her vanity, the wooden legs shaking beneath their passionate affair.

“Aemond!” She called out, her hands tightening at the back of his head where she had fistfulls of his hair. He groaned and quickened his pace, thrusting into her with the ferocity of an animal. 

Over their time together, she had been able to relax around him, thinking less and less of that horrible night with her guard that could have ruined everything. She allowed herself to fall into him, to let herself think of nothing but him, and she couldn’t have been more thankful.

He took her daily, their union fiercely passionate, the two of them quickly becoming insatiable for each other. 

“Fuck, darling, you are perfect.” Aemond growled, his hips never faltering in their harsh rhythm as he took her roughly. 

The way he took her now and had been for weeks was a far cry from the tepid and shy man she had seen on their wedding night. 

Cries fell from her lips as she desperately held him, her only tether in the haze of pleasure he now could so easily spiral her to. 

“Don’t stop.” She begged breathlessly, her head falling back to her shoulders, her eyes shut tightly as he fucked her so hard it was all she could do to hold and enjoy the ride. 

“Never, my love, I'll never stop.” He promised her, the desperation in his voice clear. He panted heavily as his hips moved with precision, eager to reach that spot he knew ruined her completely. 

He longed to see her unravel, he longed to hear her scream for him. It had quickly become the greatest thing he had ever been fortunate enough to witness and his greatest accomplishment. 

His grip on her hips tightened, his awed gaze fluttering over her form, eager to take in every inch of her. 

Her toes curled, a high pitched moan sounding as her body tensed, as she felt herself creeping up on the crest of blinding pleasure. 

“That’s it love, cum for me. Do it for me, I need it.” He rambled, his voice rough, causing shivers to race down her spine. 

Her nails dug into his shoulders and his answering grunt of pleasure undid her completely. She screamed his name, her hips jolting against his as she reached her peak. Aemond held her tightly, his arms moving around her back to hold him to her as his hips stuttered, becoming frantic in his final moments.

“Fuck… fuck!” He yelled as he felt her tighten around him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, planting sloppy kisses along the delicate slope before he felt the curling of hazy pleasure unfurl within him. 

His eye squeezed shut, his jaw fell slack as a breathless moan escaped him as he came. Small cries left him, his hips continuing to move, losing their intensity as he spilled inside her. 

Their shared heavy breaths echoed throughout the room as neither one of them moved an inch. He continued to hold her tightly, wrapped around her completely. He shivered against her as she began to caress the length of his back, her soft hands moving up and down gently, causing him to sigh in delight. 

After a few long moments, as they caught their breath, he pulled away, nudging his nose against hers, smirking lightly at the sight of her so thoroughly spent. He kissed her assuredly, his tongue tangling with hers, his touch still firm, as if he were still desperate for her. 

They parted with the need for air, soft smiles shared between the two, almost bashful, as if they hadn’t just fucked debauchedly as though they were in a brothel. He pulled out of her and began to clean the mess between her thighs, delighting in the way she’d twitch against his touches, thoroughly overstimulated from his hands. 

“Do you remember when you put jam in my hair?” He asked suddenly, causing her to look down at him with a raised brow in disbelief. 

“You are thinking about that now?”

The childhood memory was not forgotten but she certainly hadn’t been thinking of it after he had ravished her.

“With how you were just pulling on it, I’m beginning to think you have some kind of vendetta against my hair.” He remarked with a smirk as he pulled his breeches back up and grabbed his discarded doublet that she’d torn off him. 

She laughed and shook her head, her eyes trailing his every move, pouting almost reflexively as he dressed himself, covering up that beautiful body from her eager gaze. 

“It is beautiful. Perhaps I am trying to sabotage you out of jealousy.” She smiled coyly.

“Jealousy?” He echoed in disbelief. “Darling, you are the most stunning woman in the realm, you have little to be jealous of.”

She felt her cheeks heat as she half-heartedly rolled her eyes. Since they had become more comfortable with each other, his compliments had been never ending, never failing to make her swoon each and every time. 

“So, same time tomorrow?” She joked, to which he snorted and looked over at her, nothing but adoration in his eye. 

He stepped toward her again, pulling the fallen sleeve of her dress back in place.

“Oh, darling, I will have you again tonight, surely.” He drawled, reveling in the way she seemed to shiver against him, already eagerly anticipating the night and agonizing over the hours between. 

He kissed her again and leaned his forehead against hers, as if he needed a moment longer with her before parting from her side. 

“I will find you once I am finished.” He assured her. 

As he left her to continue with his duties for the day he had steadily been ignoring, she finished cleaning herself up and fixing her disheveled hair. 

Her smile remained as she righted her dress, her legs trembling slightly as she made slow steps across their chambers. She just knew Baela would be dragging their salacious actions out of her the second she saw her. 

The giddy feeling within her crumbled into dust the moment she opened the door and came face to face with the one person she was content to never see again.

Her face fell, a look of horror overtaking her features.

“Ser Darick.” 

Her voice shook as she greeted him, which seemed to only deepen his smug grin. 

“Princess.” He bowed dutifully. “It has been too long.”

The sarcasm that laced his words cut her deeply and she averted her gaze, her heart racing wildly. The memories of that fateful night, the guilt that she had been able to push into the depths of her mind resurfaced with the force of a punch, almost enough to knock her off her feet.

She didn’t spare the man another look as she took off down the hall, her face crumbling into a deep frown as frustrated tears filled her eyes.

He would ruin everything.

~~

Her hand was clutched to her mother’s, her retelling of the day striking a need for her motherly touch. 

“I will take care of it.”

“How?”

“I will find a way.”

She remained silent, her face twisted with fear and disgust.

“What if he knows?”

“He doesn’t.”

“You cannot know that. Why would he be reassigned to me? Surely this is some plot to ruin me.” She rambled, her worried mind not allowing her to think straight. 

“The guards are spread thin here. We needed more help so guards from Dragonstone were requested here, but I… I had no idea he would be assigned to you.”

She sighed heavily, her mother’s words doing little to reassure her.

“I can’t keep lying to him.”

“Darling-”

“I love him and I can’t stand the fact that our marriage is built on a lie.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw, her teeth pulling her bottom lip tightly. Before she could even attempt to soothe her daughter the door opened and Daemon stepped into their shared chambers. 

Both women tensed, sitting up straighter in their seats at his unexpected arrival. 

His eyes flitted between both women curiously, immediately sensing the tension in the room.

“Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, my love.”

His wife’s words did little to soothe the awkward energy in the room.

“What are you two discussing?”

“Guard rotations.” 

Daemon looked at his step-daughter with narrowed eyes, the topic one he had not expected. His instincts were telling him something was wrong, that he was being lied to. 

“Is someone not to your liking?”

“Ser Darick has been assigned as her guard and we hoped we could find someone else for her.”

“Why?”

“No specific reason-” Rhaenyra attempted to diffuse the situation, but he had seen right through it, he knew something was amiss.

“I don’t understand. Ser Darick was your guard for years, he was loyally by your side, he watched over you, he cared for-”

Daemon’s sentence stopped abruptly, as if he had suddenly realized the double meaning in his words. His eyes narrowed, the angry fire burning within him so hotly she had to turn away from his gaze. He looked to his wife, as if needing confirmation to the thought burning in his brain.

When Rhaenyra sighed disappointedly, her gaze moving away from his, he felt as though he had the answer to the horrible explanation he had conjured.

Within a second he unsheathed his sword, causing his daughter to flinch and Rhaenyra to get to her feet. 

“Daemon-”

“Where is he?”

“You need to calm down-”

“I will strike every limb from his body and string him-”

“Please stop!” She yelled, stopping her father’s detailed description of the torture he would inflict on the man he believed to have committed an egregious crime.

“You cannot seriously be protecting the man that took advantage of you. He touched you, he raped you! He should be fed to our dragons!”

“He didn’t rape me!” 

Daemon remained quiet, taking in her words slowly. His face twisted, an expression of confusion soon morphing into dread and she shifted in her seat under his intense glare.

“You didn’t.” He spat. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“Daemon, please.”

“You let that guard into your bed?”

She leaned her elbows on her knees, her head falling into her hands as she breathed heavily, embarrassment washing over her like a tidal wave that threatened to drown her. She would surely welcome it. 

“It was a mistake.” Rhaenyra chimed in, trying to ease the fury in her husband. 

“Of course it was a fucking mistake.” Daemon bellowed. “How could you be so simple minded?”

She raised her head, staring plainly at the man before her. She’d heard about his tales before he had married her mother, the Prince of Flea Bottom, the many times he had been banished by the King and he had the audacity to shame her about who she bedded.

“Your hypocrisy is astounding.” 

“Don’t be cute.” Daemon scolded. He tightened his grip on his sword, his anger still burning. “I’m still going to kill him.”

“You are going to do no such thing. Rumors will spread if a guard mysteriously winds up murdered. We will solve this quietly and reassign him so he will never lay his eyes on you again and you will never tell a soul about what happened that night.” Rhaenyra countered, her eyes locked onto her daughter sternly.

She could only nod, the guilt she’d steadily buried in the face of her happiness, in the bliss she’d found with Aemond, now clawing its way forward, threatening to tear her apart piece by piece.

~~

“There you are.” Aemond greeted her with a smile, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her head. Their chambers had been empty when he returned from training and he knew the first place to look for her was Helaena’s chambers. 

Her heart skipped as she saw him, her mind racing, screaming at her to blurt out her secret, to spill everything that was weighing heavily on her, darkening her soul, but she found no words could escape her. 

She smiled stiffly, forcefully pushing past the overwhelming regret and sadness that threatened to choke her. 

“Are you finished with your training?”

He nodded as he took a seat next to her, his soft smile directed to the children who played at his feet. 

“I am and I suddenly found myself in desperate need of my wife’s company.” 

“Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but we were just about to leave.”

“Leave? Where are you going?”

“We are going to the markets in Flea Bottom.” Helaena answered happily, oblivious to the way her brother’s expression darkened at her words. 

Aemond looked to her desperately, as if pleading with her to tell him his sister was mistaken, that she wasn’t going to roam the dangerous streets of Flea Bottom. 

She sighed, taking his hand in hers.

“She wishes to find gifts for the twins’ name day.” She spoke softly so the children would not hear. 

“Send servants.”

“She wants to pick them out herself.”

Aemond exhaled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He startled when his wife stood from the couch and he reached out for her hand, but she was already walking away. 

“Come with us brother.” Helaena offered, oblivious to the torment unfurling in her protective sibling. “We will be taking guards, but we will be more protected with you at our side.” 

She smiled widely and linked her arm through Helaena’s, looking to her faithful husband.

“Well, you heard her.”

Aemond let out a long sigh, the thought of his beloved and his dear sister venturing down the dangerous streets of King’s Landing loathsome, but with one look at his wife’s stare, he was powerless to refuse her wishes. 

“Just for a short visit.”

The wide smile she gave in return was all he needed to stop himself from refusing the offer. 

He followed behind the two women, their group of guards walking behind him faithfully as they made their way into the city. 

Aemond kept his eyes fleeting between his sweet sister and his beloved wife as they perused each vendor they passed. He admired his wife as her face lit up at the sight of a beautiful trinket that had caught her eye. He admired the way she smiled at each vendor, politely asking them questions, dignifying their compliments about her beauty and kindness. 

She was truly a marvel, the most beautiful sight to behold. 

“Aemond, look, isn’t this beautiful?” Helaena called out to him, breaking him from his trance as she held up a butterfly figurine. “I think Jaehaera will find this absolutely divine, she’s always admiring the butterflies in the garden.”

“She will love it.” He assured her with a small smile, following her as the ever protective brother he was as they ventured to the next vendor, caught up with another bout of glasswork she had found. 

He felt as though he had only taken his eyes off his wife for a minute when the yelling started. A fight had broken out between two vendors and the crowd around them had responded to the sudden surge of violence with equal measure.

His arm immediately went around Helaena who cowered and covered her ears as the crowd yelled and became insufferably loud. He briefly made eye contact with a man in the crowd, the lowborn recognizing the pair of royals before him and, as most disparities of power result, decided to direct his anger towards them. 

Aemond guided Helaena into the capable hands of her guard as he unsheathed his sword menacingly, warning the crowd not to try their luck with the famed one-eyed dragon prince. 

The crowd soon became raucous, screaming, shouting and pushing at anyone they could get their hands onto. 

Aemond quickly spotted his sister being scurried away from the action, though his stomach dropped when he could not spot his wife. 

He yelled her name, the sound lost in the chaos of the riotous crowd. He pushed people out of the way carelessly, elbowing his way back to where he had last seen her. His heart dropped at the sight of her absence. He became more desperate, his voice sounding weak as he stood atop a vendor’s booth, trying to catch a glimpse of her.

The longer he did not see her, the more fear encased every inch of him.

~~

A muffled scream left her as a sturdy hand latched over her mouth, a strong arm wrapped around her waist as she was carried away from the action of the riots ensuing in the streets of King’s Landing. 

She hadn’t seen Helaena or Aemond. As soon as the fighting started she had been dragged away, seemingly against her will. She had thought it was a member of the King’s Guard but as the hand stayed steadily over her mouth and the painful arm carrying her through the streets of Flea Bottom refused to recede, she became more and more fearful of who had latched onto her.

The grip on her slackened and she quickly pushed her way out of the grip, her expression a mask of derision as she faced who had manhandled her so roughly. Her face fell, an icy feeling of dread spreading through her veins as she met the gaze of Ser Darick. 

He sneered and gripped her arm again, pulling her into his side. 

“Stop struggling, Princess, we don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” He warned, though it sounded more like a threat as he pulled her along with him back to the Red Keep.

She remained still, allowing him to drag her forward, her face passive as they made their way through the halls of the Keep. She felt equal parts relief and dread as he forced her into her chambers. 

He slammed the door shut behind them, his face dark with anger, his hand still sturdily gripping her arm.

“You have brought me back, now leave.” She ordered harshly as she wrenched her arm out of his grip.

“Not until we talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” 

“You invited me into your bed, let me fuck you and then ignored me. I deserve to know why.” He argued angrily. Her face twisted with derision, at the reminder of that night she had acted so carelessly.

“I am truly sorry for how I treated you, it was wrong of me to take such liberties. But the night we had was simply a night of desperation. I am married now. I love my husband and you need to move on.” 

He scoffed, looking at her with nothing but derision.

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What?”

“That night. It didn’t mean nothing to you. It couldn’t have.” 

He stepped towards her, forcing her to take frantic steps backwards, but he was quicker. He gripped onto her shoulders, his touch strong and harsh. 

“Let go of me.” She hissed through gritted teeth, her heart racing, the beginnings of dread seeping through her, chilling the blood that ran through her veins. 

“I know you felt something that night. No one could fake that passion. I know you feel something for me. I know you have for years.” 

Her eyes widened, staring back at the man completely dumbfounded as she squirmed under his hands.

“You have gone mad.”

“I gave you pleasure that night, Princess. I made you cum under me. I made you moan for me.” He spoke earnestly, making her wince and shake her head, desperately trying to pry his hands off her.

“It meant nothing.”

“Of course it did!” 

“Get off!” She yelled as she pushed at his chest, causing him to stumble a few paces back. 

The door suddenly slammed open, her breathless and worried husband storming into their chambers. He seemed to deflate in relief when he saw her, every ounce of fear dissipating in a second, though when he noticed the guard in their chambers, his expression twisted into confusion.

“Are you hurt?” He asked worriedly, stepping towards her hurriedly, assuming she had been injured in the fight and that was the reason the guard was in the room with her alone. 

“No, I’m fine.” She assured him, her voice quivering. 

He grabbed her trembling hands in his, looking over her in concern briefly before his untrusting eye turned towards the guard who couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

The anger in his gaze did not go unnoticed by Aemond who stiffened, his hand reaching for the sword at his hip instinctively. 

The guard smiled sardonically to his wife, the sight setting the blood in his veins on fire. 

“Princess.” He bowed and turned on his heel, leaving the room. The fact that he did not address Aemond only angered him further. 

“Who was that?” Aemond questioned the second the door closed behind him. 

“He was my guard at Dragonstone.” She answered monotonously, her chest aching in fear as her waking nightmare unfurled before her.

“Did he hurt you?” Aemond’s anger flared as he looked at her questioningly, his gaze searching her frantically for any indication that her guard had stepped out of place. 

“No, he didn’t hurt me.” She spoke quietly, omitting mentioning the bruises she was sure would be blooming on her arm from his harsh grip.

He stared at her quizzically, knowing deep within him that something was wrong. The look on her face, one of muted horror, was striking and the fact that she couldn’t meet his eye had worry stirring within him so strongly his hand twitched towards his sword once again, ready to strike down the mysterious guard at her command. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I-”

“Yes, you’ve said that, but I do not believe you.” He interrupted, fighting between his confusion and his worry as she flinched at his harsh tone. He wanted to reach out to her, but something held him back, something he didn’t quite understand. 

She wrapped her arms around herself as she turned away from him. He called her name slowly, his critical eye never leaving her. 

“Who is he?”

“He is no one.”

His heart raced and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach as a multitude of answers swirled through his mind, none of them bringing any kind of peace.

“Do you love him?” He asked abruptly, jumping to the worst conclusion he could have possibly conjured.

“No, of course not!” She yelled, perturbed by the mere question. 

“Then why does he look at you as if you have a history?”

“I swear to you, Aemond, he is nothing to me.”

“So nothing has happened between you two?”

She remained quiet, her mind racing with a million different answers to the question, most lies, but only one truth, the one that spoke the loudest.

Her silence rang loud in the room and Aemond’s face shifted instantly, first to shock, then disbelief, then betrayal, and finally to fury. 

“You… you and him…” He startled slowly, trying to find the words to explain the blinding anger that overtook him so greatly it soon became hard to breathe.

The images that his mind created, visions of her tangled in the sheets with that man, her soft touch on his body, her sweet moans he relished given to him. 

“Aemond-”

“You fucked him?”

“Please-”

“Answer me. Did you fuck him?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her world was crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

“Yes.” She breathed out weakly.

A bitter laugh left him, a sound filled with so much anger it made her wince, tears beginning to burn in her eyes. 

“Aemond, please, I can explain-” She began as she approached him, reaching out for his hand, but he yanked his arm away from her, staring back at her with such vitriol it was as if a dagger had been lodged in her chest.

“Explain what? That you have been lying to me this entire time? That I married a whore?” 

Her eyes widened, his words striking her harshly. She had seen him angry before, she had seen him vindictive before, but it had never been directed at her, he had never spoken to her with such hatred, as if he were eager to hurt her. 

“It was before our marriage. I have never even looked at another man since I knew you were to be my husband.”

He shook his head, his chest heaving, an ache settling deep within him. Jealousy tore through him roughly, all he could think of was her tangled passionately with another man, and it made him see red. 

She reached for him again and he shut her down with a vicious scowl. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

She breathed heavily, her own anger beginning to rise at his stubborn refusal to listen to her. She knew if he ever found out it would cause a rift, but she had thought after the time they had spent together, that what they shared would be too special to let a mistake from the past rupture the beautiful love they had carved for themselves.

“Are you serious?” She snapped, her patience wearing thin the longer he directed his fury towards her. 

She thought of Daemon’s reaction, of Aemond’s disgusted scowl, and it made her seethe. If she had been a man no one would be batting an eye and she wanted to scream at how entirely unfair life was simply because of what lay between her legs.

“I had one night and I am penalized but you can do whatever you want with your body and I am just supposed to accept it. As if you haven’t followed Aegon to the brothels.”

“I am not my brother!” He yelled fiercely, his overt anger making her flinch. 

She stayed quiet, her anger receding as quick as it had come, leaving her with nothing but guilt. She knew she had crossed a line. 

Anybody could see how different the Targaryen brothers were, how much more accustomed to duty and honor Aemond was, how he refused to defile himself and shame his family as Aegon continued to do. 

It was deadly silent between them, neither one of them with anything productive or relatively polite to say to the other. 

With a clenched jaw, Aemond stormed out of the room without sparing her a look. 

His breath left him in uneven pants as he stormed down the hall, unaware of where he was headed. 

Images of her, his sweet wife, his beloved, wrapped up in another man’s arms replayed in his head torturously. He felt his eye sting with emotion he desperately attempted to hold at bay. 

He loved his wife, but this was agony. 

He loved her, but she had lied to him. 

He didn’t know what to make sense of the situation. He didn’t even know what to make sense of what he was feeling. 

He was at a loss as to what his marriage held. 

The only thing he could make out in the whirlwind of thoughts was pain. 

~~

He avoided her for the rest of the day and the next, choosing to sleep in his old chambers instead of returning to her. 

He couldn’t bear to face her, not after what he had yelled at her so callously, not after he had called her a whore, not after he had spent hours picturing her with that guard. 

It was agonizing to think of. 

He avoided dinner, giving flimsy excuses to the maids that dared to approach him. 

He sat out on the balcony of his old chambers, gazing out sightlessly into the night before him. The sound of his chamber doors opening had him rolling his eye, looking over his shoulder at the intruder with a scowl.

Aegon gave him an annoyed look. 

“You know you have mother worried sick? She sent me to find you, you twat.”

Aemond remained quiet as he turned to look back out onto the horizon. 

“What are you doing out here?” Aegon asked as he took a seat at his side, causing him to sigh loudly, not bothering to hide his disdain for his presence. “I figured you would be busy fucking your wife. You seem to do little else lately.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched as he steadily refused to meet his brother’s eyes.

“What? Has your paradise been ruined already?” Aegon joked, though when he received no reaction from Aemond, not even anger, he knew something was truly wrong. “What happened?” He asked, sounding more sincere than even he expected.

Aemond remained quiet for a long moment, dreading to say the words aloud, as if it made them more real than they already were. 

“She had a dalliance with a guard.”

“She has been unfaithful?”

“It was before she came back to King’s Landing, before the wedding.” He mumbled.

Aegon was quiet for a few seconds as he took in his brother’s words and eventually shrugged nonchalantly. 

“So?” 

Aemond glared coldly at his brother, the flippant response sparking his fury once more. 

“Finding out your wife let another man into her bed isn’t exactly comforting news.”

“It happened before she was your wife and, judging by how infatuated she seems with you, I’m willing to bet it happened before she knew you were the one she was to marry.” 

Aemond sighed loudly, no matter the circumstances, no matter whatever explanation he could think of, it did nothing to quell the green eyed beast that took over him. He had grown to deeply love his wife, the girl he had latched onto in childhood, the only one who seemed to root for him. 

The thought of her in the clutches of lust with anyone that wasn’t him was enough to incite his anger. 

He had never had a passionate, loving embrace. He certainly didn’t count what he endured on his thirteenth nameday, the moment that brought him nothing but shame. To think that she could so easily bring someone into her bed, have someone touch her lovingly, bring her pleasure, just as he could to her, stirred a fury in him he could barely comprehend.

“So, she betrayed you, what happens next?” Aegon asked, a smarmy smirk growing on his lips, striking Aemond’s anger before he could even speak of the depravities that mingled in his mind. “How about I take you down to the Silk Street and you can get back at her.”

In the blink of an eye, Aemond was on his feet, his face drawn tightly with fury, his angry glare locked onto his brother who laughed raucously at his reaction.

“Easy!” He yelled, shoving his brother’s hands off of him that gripped his shirt, ready to throttle him. “Gods, you have no sense of humor.”

“You know you don’t have to be here.” Aemond growled, sending his brother a final fierce scowl that silently threatened him of saying anything untoward about his marriage, before settling himself back in his seat. 

Aegon watched his brother carefully, noting the agony within him and he sighed.

“Look, you clearly care about her. She is your wife and you two have been able to build a bond which is more than many can say.”

Aemond looked at him, surprised by his honest words, surprised that he wasn’t slurring as he spoke. 

“Are you willing to give that up for a mistake she made before you loved each other?”

He looked taken aback at the question. The mere thought of letting her go was unfathomable. The thought was so horrible it turned his stomach more than his jealousy ever could. 

“I cannot stop picturing her with him.” He admitted quietly, almost shamefully. 

Aegon sighed, while he didn’t have anyone he loved as Aemond loved his wife, he had to admit, it didn't sound easy to picture the woman you loved in the arms of another man.

“So, let’s say you give up, what then? She marries someone else and warms their bed instead?” 

Aemond grit his teeth and sent a wicked glare to his brother who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Just think about it, brother. Get over it or let her go.” Aegon stated bluntly before parting from his side, leaving him to bury his head in his hands, a long slow breath falling past his lips. 

He didn’t want to let her go, he didn’t want to end what they had, he didn’t want to lose her. 

He breathed deeply again, forcing the green-eyed monster within him to retreat, to let him think clearly for once. 

He pictured her face, her teary eyes as she stared at him in disbelief as he threw horrible insults her way. He winced, his eye squeezing shut, as if the memory itself hurt him physically. 

He had to make this right. 

~~

He stepped into their shared chambers, his body rigid with nervous anticipation. He startled slightly as the sight of her was suddenly blocked, Baela having immediately got to her feet at the sight of him, standing in front of her half-sister protectively. 

“What do you think you’re doing here?” 

Aemond rolled his eye, sending a glare to the stubborn woman. 

“These are my chambers.” 

“Are they now? They haven’t seemed to be yours the past few days.” Baela responded sarcastically, forcing him to hold back a wince at the reminder of how he’d left his wife alone and worried for days on end in his fit of anger and jealousy.

He looked past Baela to find her looking back at him worriedly, wondering if this was the moment he left for good. The sight pained him deeply and he sighed heavily.

“I came here to talk.” He spoke softly, looking past her human shield, trying to appeal to his kind wife. 

“I think you’ve said plenty.” 

“Baela, it’s ok.” She said softly, hoping to stop her half-sister before she ended up in a physical fight with her husband. With how angry Baela had been on her behalf she knew it was certainly a possibility. 

Baela looked back at her questioningly, to which she nodded, silently assuring her she would be ok. 

With a sour expression, Baela left her side, her glare darkening as she passed the one eyed prince.

“If I see any more tears fall from her eyes, not even Vhagar will save you from me.” She threatened before stepping out of their chambers. 

Aemond let out a long breath. The sight of his wife upset cut him deeply, he knew he would let Baela inflict whatever pain she wanted on him if he hurt her any more. 

He looked at her, subtly wincing as he noticed she was looking away, refusing to meet his gaze. He moved forward slowly, never taking his eye off her as he approached. He sat on the opposite couch, making sure to leave space between them.

He didn’t think she’d be comfortable with anything else and he didn’t think he deserved to be so close to her, not after what he had said to her just days ago. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was angry and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve my words.” He started quietly. 

She remained quiet, her gaze yet to meet his. The longer she didn’t look at him, the quicker his heart raced.

“I want to understand. I know you have no feelings for this man, but… it may kill me, but I want to know what happened between you two.”

“Why would that change things?” She asked stiffly.

“What?”

“You know I have no love for this man, you know I only care for you. So what more do you need to know?”

Aemond swallowed against the lump that grew in his throat. Aegon’s words came back to him, that her dalliance could have happened before she even knew they were to be married. 

“I need to know that I wasn’t the cause of this.”

She turned to him fully, her brows furrowed as she looked at him in bewilderment. She was sure a piece of her heart had shattered. He thought she had chosen to jump into bed with a guard because the news of her marriage to him was so horrible she was desperate to seek comfort. 

She let out a shaking breath and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. 

“Do you remember Lady Eleanor?”

Aemond looked confused for a moment at the sudden turn in conversation, but took a moment to think deeply before nodding. 

“She was your friend when we were children.” He answered softly. “I remember I could scarcely find any time with you without her presence.”

She smiled at the onslaught of memories that rushed through her mind, all hazed in the happiness of childhood innocence, though she was quick to be reminded of the grief that rose at the mere thought of her old friend. 

“She was married off to a Tully Lord. The man was older than her father. His past three wives all died mysteriously, no one dared to question why.” She explained stiffly. “I could tell from her letters that she wasn’t happy.”

Aemond watched her, frowning slightly at the dull tone of her voice, of the tortured look in her eyes, as if she was recounting something too painful to ever speak of again. He sat up straighter, longing to reach out to her, but he held back, suddenly reminding himself of the rift between them. 

“She birthed him a daughter, just as his previous wives had. The next day they found her body by the river.” She spoke quietly, her voice growing hoarse with emotion. “They could barely recognize her, she was black and blue, every bone broken by his hands.”

Aemond shifted in his seat, an unsettled feeling growing within him. He remembered the annoying little girl who followed his niece around and now felt nothing but horror at the memory of her. 

“Her husband faced no punishment. No one dared to question why yet another young girl was dead. I don’t even know what happened to the babe, if she-” She stopped abruptly, unable to finish the thought. 

Her vision blurred with tears which only began to steadily slip down her cheeks as she felt his hand take hers, their fingers intertwining. 

“His name was in consideration for my hand in marriage.” She admitted, finally bringing her gaze to reach her husband’s, immediately noticing the dread that shrouded him.

Despite the fact that they were married and had been for months, the mere prospect of her being forced into marriage with a man so barbaric left him feeling sick. 

She let out a shaking breath, pulling her hand from his as she wiped her tears furiously, forcing her expression into a mask of indifference, refusing to show him her weakness. 

“I’m sure that changes nothing for you, but I figured you should know.” She spoke hoarsely. “My night with Ser Darick meant nothing. I had no idea you were my betrothed. I thought I’d have one more night for myself before I was forced to be a silent, battered wife who would wind up dead in a matter of months.”

Aemond exhaled shakily, his gaze watching her curiously. Her sadness cut him deeply and while he could never understand the fear she felt, the fear almost every woman in the realm faced at the prospect of marriage, he couldn’t help but ache for her, for what she feared. 

The thought of her so scared, resigning herself to be abused, forced into a marriage with a man that would treat her horribly, had his hands clenching into fists, forcing back the desire to draw blood from men that weren’t even present.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out, her teary eyes finally meeting his, causing the lump in his throat to swell.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“No, I do. I betrayed you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I acted as nothing more than a lowly street whore.” 

Aemond clenched his jaw, a flash of pain striking him deeply. His previous words he had thrown at her in anger caught up to him, hurting him as if they had been directed at himself. The guilt that overcame him was overpowering, enough to knock him off kilter, enough to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“I didn’t mean it.” He told her, his voice weak, portraying his pain.

“You said it.” 

His chest ached yet again at the sadness in her voice, her teary eyed gaze hurting him like a sword to the heart. 

“I was angry and I didn’t mean a word of what I said. I let my jealousy rule me.” He explained to her, reaching out to take her hand in his again. “But you mean more to me than my anger, you mean more to me than a single mistake.”

Her eyes narrowed, derision crossing her features, as if she didn’t believe him, as if his forgiveness was too good to be true. As she shook her head, he felt his heart crack yet again. 

“You’ve forced yourself to feel nothing but derision for me for years, I’m sure you can do it again.” She spoke tersely, her eyes betraying her hurt as they brimmed with tears. “I’ll tell my mother we wish for an annulment.”

“Stop.” He demanded angrily, looking at her with barely contained hurt.

“I’m sure your mother will be thrilled.”

“Love, please-”

“You can be married to a pure maiden within the next moon.”

“Stop!” He yelled, finally cutting off her frantic rambles. She looked at him with wide, tearful eyes, the sight causing his chest to hurt in ways he couldn’t even fathom. 

He breathed heavily for a moment, allowing his anger to fade. 

“I won’t let you end this. I care about you too much to let you go.” 

Her heart jumped at his words, her emotions beginning to stir once again. She let out a trembling breath, a glaringly bitter thought in her head she couldn’t move past from.

“Please, do not hate me for asking…” She started quietly, swallowing thickly as she looked to him hesitantly “Do you forgive me because you wish for power? Because you will one day be consort, because your heir will sit the throne?”

Aemond tensed, his gaze full of bewilderment. He had to admit, maybe in the beginning, the prospect of being consort enticed him, but now, it wasn’t even a thought in his head.

It hadn’t been since the moment she stepped out of that carriage and their eyes met for the first time in years. 

“I forgive you because I love you.” Aemond answered, as if it was the most simple explanation he could have given. 

Her breath caught in her throat, completely taken aback by his admission, one he gave freely, the genuine look in his eye making her crumble within. 

“You love me?” She choked out and he smiled sadly, the sight of her reluctance to believe it causing the ache in his chest to throb once more. He moved to sit closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“I have loved you for a long time. Much longer than I would like to admit.” He spoke with a soft laugh. “The things you did for me in our childhood…” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “Sometimes it felt like you were the only one who cared.”

She frowned, her hand holding his tightly, her heart aching to hear him so vulnerable.

“I could never turn my back on you. I could never let you walk away from our marriage, not for anything.” 

He was more than surprised when her lips descended on his with a fierce kiss, one that was filled with hunger, longing, and relief. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, responding to her kiss with equal fervor, moaning against her as her hands winded through his hair, the gesture so intimate, so familiar to their last months together. 

They pulled away, breathing heavily. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She whispered, sounding pained, as if she would have to repent for his forgiveness for the rest of her life. 

He shook his head and held her tighter. He leaned his forehead against hers, swallowing thickly against the small ounce of doubt that creeped within him.

“He truly means nothing to you?”

She seemed pained by his question, her expression twisting as she placed her hand against his cheek as she looked at him with reverence. 

“He is nothing to me. I have not had a single thought of him since I’ve loved you.” 

He perked up, his wide eye searching hers, as if looking for any sign of dishonesty. But he found none. 

He wouldn’t, for she loved him just as he loved her. 

He crashed his lips to hers, his hands holding her tightly as he pulled her onto his lap, eager to place his touch upon her and equally as eager for her greedy hands to bestow their pleasure upon him. 

He preened under her gentle caresses, her hardened tugs at his hair, her eager hips that grinded against his. He longed for everything she was willing to give him. 

He could feel the jealousy that had blinded him, that green-eyed monster that threatened to ruin it all, fade to nothing while he was in her arms. 

He would not let a single mistake tear apart what they had, what had been growing since their childhood. 

He loved her and she loved him. 

It was all he needed.

~~

They mended back together with ease. With Ser Darick transferred, no longer a glaring reminder of her indiscretion, they were able to put the incident past them. 

Her brothers questioned what had happened, why there seemed to be a rift in her marriage then, as quickly as it had come, disappeared as she and her husband soon proved themselves as a united front, more infatuated with each other than ever. 

She didn’t give them any answers. She only assured them she was happy, that Aemond treated her well and that their marriage was a success. 

They were back to the blissful, wonderstruck and obsessed couple they had been before her secret had been revealed. 

Until the dinner for the King’s nameday. 

Her arm was locked with her husband’s as they stepped into the dining hall, their smiles mirroring each other as they spoke quietly. 

Aemond suddenly stopped in his tracks, his body becoming stiff as stone. She looked up at him, her smile falling at the sight of the murderous rage in his eye. 

She followed his gaze and paled instantly, her stomach twisting with fear as she found Ser Darick’s smirking face staring back at her. She swallowed against the lump that grew in her throat and held tighter to Aemond’s arm. 

“Let’s sit.” She spoke quietly, having to basically drag him along with her to take their seats at the table. 

Aemond’s glare remained on the man as he took his seat, his eye cold and unflinching. His wife had told him about that day the guard confronted her, explaining his strange possessiveness, the harsh way he held her. 

He wanted to kill the guard the second he saw the bruises on her arms, but she held onto him tightly, begging him not to leave her alone, begging him to drop the matter completely. 

She so desperately wanted to forget the entire thing and she knew if Aemond killed him, it would invite questions she dreaded to answer. 

The fury he felt at the sight of her bruises, at how scared she had been because of that guard, hadn’t left him. He had kissed every mark on her body, though it did little to soothe the storm inside of him, the desire to draw blood from the man that dared to hurt her. 

His fingers tapped erratically atop the table, his deadly scowl never wavering from the man who smugly smirked back at him, inciting his rage. 

Her hand covered his, startling him out of his haze of anger. He looked over at her and she gave him a weak smile, her eyes pleading with him to not act on his anger. There was a look of regret in her gaze, as her guilt returned tenfold, as if she were the one angering him. 

The sight tore his anger away in an instant and he intertwined their fingers, squeezing her hand comfortingly, silently assuring her, promising her he wasn’t upset with her, that her guilt was for naught. 

“I love you.” She mouthed to him, wanting to remind him in the face of her dreaded mistake and he smiled, mouthing the words back to her. 

The days they had spent together over the past weeks were enough to heal him of the fierce jealousy that had wracked him at the news of her night with her guard. She had spent night after night worshiping him, bestowing pleasure upon him that left his mind spinning, proving to him over and over again that he was the only one she wanted, he was the only one she had eyes for, and he was the only one she would pleasure so intently. 

Their thoughts of that damned guard were gone swiftly as the King was carried into the room, the sight of his decaying and weak body stealing their attention completely. 

King Viserys smiled, a sad yet relieved looking gesture as he looked at the table full of his family, smiling faces around him, easy conversation flowing, no sight of derision or hatred he had seen just months ago that had broken his heart. 

He raised his cup of wine with a shaking hand. 

“A toast to my family.” He began with a hoarse voice. “To my daughter, Rhaenyra, who will make a fine Queen. And to my dear grandchild.”

She perked up at the sound of her name, seemingly growing bashful under the King’s eye. 

“My beautiful darling and my dear son. May your union be fruitful and prosper with a love the realm has not yet seen.” Viserys toasted them with a warm smile. “My dear you will make a wonderful Queen after your mother. You will be a fair, peaceful ruler and a wonderful mother when the time comes.”

A bitter scoff echoed through the room, causing everyone to tense, their gazes searching over the faces of those present to find the culprit. 

Her throat went dry, embarrassment washing over her as she noticed Ser Darick rolling his eyes. Beside her, Aemond stiffened, the murderous glare glinting in his eye once again. He gripped the arms of the chair he sat on, mere seconds away from getting to his feet to beat the guard into oblivion. 

“Is there a problem, Ser?” The King questioned, looking at the guard incredulously. 

Ser Darick didn’t even seem intimidated to have the attention of the most powerful man in Westeros. He seemed to preen under all their gazes, straightening his shoulders as if he were of importance. 

“Apologies for my interruption, Your Grace.” The guard began, his sickly sweet smile never wavering as his eyes landed back on the culprit of his anger, the shaken girl who seemed to shrink under his harsh gaze. 

Aemond clenched his jaw, his hand twitching, desperate to reach for the dagger at his hip.

“You are kind to dole out praises to a whore.” 

Chaos erupted in a matter of seconds. Viserys’ face darkened and he struggled to get to his feet, his voice hoarse as he called for his guards to seize Ser Darick. 

Daemon sprung to his feet, kicking his chair out of the way, his expression dark and full of hatred as he approached the dead man walking, swiftly pulling the sword from his hip. 

But it was Aemond that acted quickest. 

He ignored his wife’s warning as he got to his feet with agile precision, his steps heavy as he marched his way toward the guard. He pulled the dagger from his belt, his teeth grit as he stared the man down with nothing but pure hatred. 

With a swift kick to Ser Darick's hand, Aemond disarmed him before he could pull his sword. Aemond gripped the front of his armor, dragging him forward harshly and swiftly plunged his dagger into the man’s neck without hesitation. 

Gasps and screams sounded behind him at the violent display, but he paid no mind to it. 

He watched with satisfaction as the man’s eyes went dull, the life leaving him slowly as he bled out, finally erasing the smug smile from his face. 

He eased his grip, letting him drop to the floor. 

He turned, coming face to face with Daemon, who had his sword drawn and at the ready. His uncle eyed the dead guard at their feet, with slight disdain for the mere fact that he hadn’t been the one to end his life, before slowly raising his gaze to him, staring at him for a long moment before nodding, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. 

Aemond nodded back, a dark and twisted respect blooming between them in that moment. 

He turned, ignoring the chaos that continued as his family watched on in horror and confusion, a mix of questions, admonishments him for his brashness, praises for his actions, but he heard none of it.

He stepped towards his trembling wife and quickly guided her into his arms, holding her tightly. 

Her eyes were wide, shocked by the violent display, though she couldn’t deny the immediate relief that coursed through her. 

“Thank you.” She whispered shakily.

Aemond pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her, his silent promise to always protect her. 

~~

Hope you enjoy and sorry it's so long, I can't stop myself xx

melting Ice - Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You are about to marry Aemond Targaryen. Your arrival at the Reed Keep is greeted with coldness and you have a hard time settling in and coming to terms with marrying into this strange family. But after a restless evening you can't take it anymore and go to talk to Aemond. This evening brings you and your betrothed a little closer as he lets you see behind his facade.

Words: 2.971

Warnings: angst?, arranged marriage, insecure Aemond

A/N: Frist time writing Aemond // English is not my first

language// no beta reader// Gif not mine // no use of Y/N// AO3

I hope you like this :)

You crawl through your stuff. You've been back in Red Keep for a week, but your belongings are not all unpacked jet.

The hot summer air radiate through the stones of your new home and you whipe away a few drops of sweat from your brows. You miss the light briese that always go through your cambers in  Casterly Rock. The heat in Kings Landing is muggy and brings the stank from the city and not the fresh air of the sea. But you're gonna have to get used to it.

It's unlikely you'll ever see your home again. Not once you're married. This is the fate of thousands of Ladies in the seven Kingdomes . You all get shipped of to marry and never come back home.

For your betrothed you are a burden. You're back here for a week and maybe you exchanged two sentences with the prince. He was in no way rude, but neither was he really warm. You got the feeling it was more of a inconvenient for him than anything else. He doesn´t want to spend any minute with you. He ignored your invitations to go for a walk or for a afternoon tea.

You sigh. At least you won't marry a man who could be your father or grandfather. No, you're the future bride of Aemond Targaryen. Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Maybe you have luck with your husbands age. And you will become a princess. That's the dream of thousands of young ladies, and you can live it. From the outside it sounds perfect. Like a song.

The reality is different.

In reality, you are a pawn in the game of power, securing the loyalty and armies of your family for the Targaryens.

This marriage is a reward for years of service from your family.

Instead he dumped you on his sister. Helaena, a sweet girl who is fixated on insects and with her thoughts everywhere except in the here and now. But she was the only one that makes you feel you are welcome here. She was the one who showed you around and invited you to tea, go on picnics, walk in the gardens or do handicrafts. She also introduced you to her twins. Sweet children that you can't keep apart yet.

The Queen only gave you a cold smile and explained her wedding preparations to you, she didn´t ask for you opinion of your wedding. But you think that´s the way your life is from now on.

Aegon, your future brother in law is an arrogant prince who likes to drink and spend his time with whores. Not one nice word comes over his lip just a rude remark about your appearance as the whole family greets you after your arrival.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and rub your temple to get rid of the slight headache.

At Casterly Rock you felt trapped. A golden cage guarded by lions. Your cage is still there, only now you're being guarded by dragons.

And for a little while you had hope. When you were younger, you went to King's Landing with your mother to get to know your future husband. He was a sweet, almos shy boy, with a kind smile who had discussed history with you for hours or dance with you at a picnic. You thought your stupid girls dreams were coming true.

Is this your life now? Lonely and alone surrounded by strangers?

This is not how you imagined it all. You've known half your life that you would be Aemond's wife. The betrothal was make when you were just a little girl. And of course you were excited to become a princess. Your stupid little girl dreams were full of romance, love and your knightly prince with blonde hair.

But now there is nothing left of the boy from your memories.

Will your marriage be like this? Married to a stranger?

Aemond Targaryen had grown into a cold man who had an almost dangerous aura around him and observed everything with an arrogant distance.

The sweet smile you remembered is gone. You're sure he hasn't smiled in years.

You put a few of your writing utensils on your desk. Your thoughts go to the letters you wrote to Ameond over the years, but one day he just stopped answering you. Did you do something wrong?

Was this marriage doomed to failure from the beginning?

You sigh again and try to push your thoughts from the past away.

It had been a sunny day that slowly turned into a beautiful evening. The setting sun is still shining in your window. You've already had your dinner with your mother and now there's nothing left for you to do. But you are restless. The thoughts of your future life do not allow you to find peace. Gods you are a Lannister from Casterly Rock. A lion! And not a decorative piece that gets ignored and sidelined. Aemond shows no interest in you and you want to know why. The question of what you did wrong haunts you. In your home you were always surrounded by friends, the lords who visited your family praised your kindness and your beauty. You enjoy reading and you are sure that you are a pleasant conversation partner. However, your future husband seems to prefer to ignore you.

You feel lonely. As lonely as you've never been in your life.

No! Your life won't be like that! You refuse to accept this. If Aemond wants to ignore you, he has to give you a good reason for it.

You straighten your back and smooth down your skirts. With quick steps you reach the door and leave your chambers.

"My lady, where do you intent to go?" the guard at your door asks.

"I'm visiting my betrothed." you answer without stopping. The guard follows right behind you.

"You have been instructed not to leave your chambers alone."

"I am not alone. You are with me."

"But my lady..."

"Enough." you just interrupt him. You definitely won't let him change your mind. You will talk to Aemond! But after a few steps you stop. You don't know where the prince's chambers are. You turn slightly to face the guard.

"Where are the prince's chambers?" you ask.

"I must ask you to return to your chambers."

You grimace. "You swore to serve House Targaryen Correct?"

"Yes my lady."

"In a fortnight I will be a Princess of House Targaryen. So you also swore to serve me."

"But my lady.."

"Please."

The guard shifts from one foot to the other and shakes his head slightly. "I have instructions..."

"Fine. Don't help me, I'll just find the way on my own. I hope you're willing to follow me through the Red Keep all night." You turn around sharply to continue walking.

"The other way. Here." you hear after a few steps behind you. You turn around again and look in the direction the guard points .

You give him a smile. "Thank you very much."

You follow his directions and a short time later you find yourself in front of the prince's chambers. You take a deep breath and then knock firmly on the door. It takes a moment and you are invited in. As you attempt to open the door, your guard takes a few steps forward to follow you. "I want to talk to him alone."

"My lady it is inappropriate, you need a chaperone."

"Do you doubt your prince's honor?"

"Of course not!"

"So."

"But my Lady..."

You sigh. "I know I'm not making your job easy today, but I promise to do better. Just not today. I just want one private conversation with the prince. Please."

Now it's his turn to sigh. "I'll wait outside the door. Right infront the door."

"Of course. Thank you." You open the door and enter the prince's chambers. Aemond is sitting on one of the sofas, there is a cup of wine on the table next to him and there is an old book on his lap whose title you can't see. When he sees you he stands up surprised.

"My Lady." he says confused. You close the door behind you and curtsy slightly. You hope he doesn't insist that you curtsy every time you see him after your wedding, but that's not the topic of tonight. Tonight you want an answer.

“Is something troubeling you?” He sounds cold and not really interested, but you push aside the nagging feeling of insecurity. Maybe that was a bad idea after all? But you're here now. Now there is no turning back.

"Yes, something is bothering me." you answer. You are a lion of Casterly Rock. Hear Me Roar! these are your words. And you will show this dragon that you cannot be ignored. Aemond looks at you with a cold expression.

"How can I help you?" he asks annoyed. He's making it clear to you that he doesn't want you here. But you just ignore that. He ignores you, so you can ignore his wishes. You take a deep breath and straight yourself up. You make yourself taller than you are and scrape up all your self-confidence together.

"You do not like me." you say. Aemond's expression changes just for a second, then he wears his cold mask again. You hold his gaze.

"I do not know you." he then says. The bored tone makes you angry.

"And that's your fault." you throw at him. The prince rolls his eye.

"Did you come here to insulte me?"

You bite your lip. "No." you say quietly. "I want to know why you don't like me. I want to know what I did wrong."

Aemond's gaze goes over you. Then he turns to the side, reaches for his wine cup and drinks it. Then he takes the jug and refills his cup and fills a second one.

"Sit with me please." he says, pointing to the seat next to him. You take the steps to the couch and sit down. The pillows are soft, but you still sit straight and ignore the cup of wine in front of you. You suppress the urge to shift back and forth.

"So?" you press.

"You have done nothing wrong."

"Then why have you been ignoring me since I got here?"

"If you wouldn't interrupt me." he says in a strained voice.

You bite your lip again. "I'm sorry."

"Like I said, you didn't do anything wrong. I thought you'd prefer to have time for yourself."

"I had enough time for myself. I'm all alone here. And I would like to know my betrothed before I have to marry him. But you don't even give me the chance to get to know you. You disappear all day long. I don't know anything about you. The only information I get are the gossip from the servants." You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you quickly blink them away. Aemond's jaw tenses with your words. But you're not quite finished yet. "I don't understand why. We used to write letters to each other and then you stopped replying. And since I've been here you have continued to ignore me. So give me a good reason!"

"I have give you my reasons." he says but doesn´t meet your eyes.

"No. That wasn't a good reason." you insist. That can not be it. Because he thought you needed time for yourself? Nonsense! There has to be another reason. Your thoughts are racing and before you can stop yourself you start talking again.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Not a pleasant conversation partner? Not worthy of your attention? What is it?"

"No of course not."

"Don't you think I'm pretty?"

"Oh please, you're beautiful." he says, sounding a little annoyed.

"So what's your problem?"

"There's no problem. It's just.." he interrupts himself and then takes a deep breath. "You must be very disappointed with this engagement." "With your behavior. Yes, I tried to explain this to you."

"No. Not with that. With the engagement to me. With a disabled prince."

You stare at him, stunned, for a few moments. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. You're beautiful, you probably had hundreds of requests for your hand in marriage."

"The two of us have been engaged since we were children. That's well known."

"Won't change the fact that you have a lot of admirers. Am I wrong?"

You furrow your eyebrows. Yes, of course, many men have given you compliments and little gifts and begged for your attention, but that's normal. You come from a rich, powerful family. You were never really interested in any of that. Why should you? You were already engaged. You had your dream prince. Until he stopped being a dream prince. Before you can answer Aemond talks again.

"I can imagine how embarrassing it is for you to have to marry a disabled prince."

"A disabled prince?"

"Aemond one eye. I know what people call me."

"And why do you think I care?"

He laughs joylessly. "Of course you care."

Anger rises within you again. "You judge me? Without knowing me? How dare you?"

You jump to your feet. Aemond winces. He probably didn't expect this reaction. You start pacing back and forth in front of him. "You think I'm unhappy with our engagement because you're missing an eye?You disappoint me."

"Everyone thinks that. You must be devastated. All your admirers and you are stuck with me."

"I´m not stuck with you. I was happy to be engaged to you. Until you turned out to be a complete idiot." you stop infront of him and glare at him.

"Remember who you talk to."

"I'm talking to the man I'm going to marry. Who obviously already made up his mind. Without knowing me. That's cruel."

Aemond is silent for a moment. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me. Tell me anything, no matter what. But we can't do it like this. We can't live like this. We can't ignore each other our whole lives. Or is that what you want?" you ask, realizing you sound desperate.

"No of course not." his voice is no longer annoyed, he sounds more tired. You get on your knees in front of him to be at the same eye level again. You hesitate for a moment but then place your hands on his knees. His eyes examine you carefully, but you don't avoid his gaze.

"So where did that sweet boy I met back then go?"

"That sweet boy you were talking about lost his eye and no one cared." his jaw tenses again.

"I wrote you letters. I asked you how you were doing. How you felt. You didn't answer."

"I didn't read it. I thought you were just writing it out of obligation."

"You could have ask me." you say.

"I guess I underestimated you."

"Yes, perhaps."

"I shouldn't have assumed something about you."

"No you shouldn´t." you agree with him.

Aemond takes your hand. "I shouldn't have ignored you. I should have gotten to know you."

"You can do better now."

"I will." he says. "Promise."

You smilie at him. The conversation went better than you could ever imagined.

"And I will start right away." he then says. You look at him confused. Aemond takes a deep breath and lets go of your hand. Slowly his hands go to the back of his head and undoes the buckle of his eye patch. The leather slides carefully from his eye. The blue sapphire sparkles at you. The scar is always only half covered by the eye patch, but now without it, the scar is even more prominent.

You carefully raise your hand, but before you touch him you stop. "May I?" you whisper. He nods. You touch his cheek tenderly and caress it. "You're beautiful." You say. You see the slight blush on his cheek. A smile dances around his lips.

"Thank you." he places his hand over yours and carefully removes it from his cheek. He kisses your knuckles.

"I just say the truth." Now it's a real smile at Aemonds face.

You straighten up and come back to your feet again. You take a deep breath to bring yourself back into the here and now.

"It's late. I should go back to my chambers."

"Yes. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"That won't be necessary. My guard is right outside the door." you nod towards the door with a smile. Aemond raises an eyebrow, but you don't explain further.

"What do you think about accompanying me to Vhagar tomorrow?"

"To your dragon?"

"Yes."

Nervousness and excitement rise within you. "I would like that very much." you answer and the smile dances around his lips again.

Aemond leaves the eye patch on the table as he walks you to the door. He opens it and your guard half stumbles into the room. He must have leaned against the door.

"My prince." he says and bows. You suppress a laugh. He really was right outside the door.

"I trust you to get my betrothed back to her chambers safely ."

"Of course my prince." the guard stutters.

"Sleep well my lady." Aemond now turns to you. He kisses your hand and this time the blush rises in your cheeks.

"Sleep well my Prince." You say.

You turn away and make your way back to your chambers. Your guard right behind you and you can even find the way without his help. You are hopeful about your marriage. Yes, a conversation doesn't solve all the problems, but it was a good start. It's not perfect yet but it's better. And maybe he and you can manage to have a peaceful marriage and maybe be happy with eachother.

She was sunshine I was Midnight Rain - Aemond Targaryen x WifeReader

Summary: Aemond is Prince Regent. Finally he got everything he wanted. But was the way there the right one? Aegon was in his way and he had to go. Now Aemond and you can start to build the realm after you imagination. You and him can finally rule together. It doesn't occur to him that you don't want that at all.

Titel inspo: Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift

Words: 2.014

Warnings: talk about killing/ violence, angst

English is not my first language // no use of Y/N // you can also read this on AO3// no proof read

have fun and be kind

"Was it worth the price?" his sister's voice is still in his ears as he leaves the throne room. The Red Keep lies in the dark, the thunderstorm is near the city and from time to time lightning and thunder shakes through the darkness.

Aemond's steps lead him through his home, but his thoughts still hang in the throne room. When he thinks of Helaena's words, he feels... nothing.

Yes, he can understand that she's angry.

Her husband and brother gets burned weeks after her son died, but that is not Aemonds matter.

Yes he did it. He burned Aegon. But Aegon was in his way.

All the time Aegon was in his way.

In the small council he was in his way.

During his war plans he was in his way.

Aegon had made a joke out of the war.

Aegon had made a joke out of the crown.

Aegon hat made a joke out of the family legacy.

Aemond knows he is better suited for the burden of the crown.

He had trained, learned and waited all his life.

And now is his moment. Now he is Prince Regent.

Now he can show everyone who wrong him that they made a mistake.

All who have hurt him, all who have despised him, all who has talked behind his back about him. They will all regret it.

Now he's going to show everyone that he is perfect suited for the role as king.

He's entering your cambers.

But he does not receive by a pleasant heat from the fireplace. No candle light passes through the room. No chattering maids or ladies in wating that usually surround you. Nobody reads from a book in a soft voice. No music sounds through the rooms. Normally your chambers are never quiet. You are constantly surrounded by your friends who find joy in the gentleness of your nature. Where he is withdrawn and cold, you are open and friendly to everyone. The Sun of the Keep. Aemond often throw ladies out of your chambers just to be able to have you by himself. But now everything is quiet and dark.

His eye goes through the darkness and when he sees you sitting at the table he breath out in relieve. He says your name and you look up. But instead of greeting him as usual with a radiant smile and a "There you are my Love." you stay sitting and just staring at him. Tears glitter in your beautiful eyes.

Aemond walks through the chambers and takes off his sword and his eye pad. Something you wished for: he shall not carry weapons in your chambers, neither shall he hide himself. After that he starts lighting a few candles, so he can see a bit better.

You keep quite, even when he turns back to you and smiles. He can't judge your mood, he doesn't know why you're not happy.

Yes, you're worried about the war, and before he went to Rook's Rest, you said goodbye to him with tears on your cheeks and the request that he come back to you. And he did come back, but now you are cold and dismissive.

"The smal councile made me Prince Regent," he says, his gaze never leaves you. His voice is soft and he doesn't even try to hide the pride in his tone.

You nod. "I heard about it." Your voice is cold and puts a sting in Aemond's heart.

"Why are you like this?" he asks confused. He doesn't know this behavior from you. You have never been anything but cheerful and friendly.

"Like what?" you slowly turn your head and finally look at him. The sparkle in your eyes that he is used to is not there.

"So unlike you."

"I don´t know Aemond! Maybe because my husband had burn his brother at the battelefield with his dragon and almost kill him?"

"It was Mal..."

"Don´t you dare lie to me!" you are at your feets in a second. Now your gaze is full of anger. "I was with Helaena when you did it. She saw you. She saw what you did."

"Helaena is crazy. She talks nonesense. You know that."

"And you know that I know she is a dreamer! So no she doesn´t talk nonesense. Helaena speaks the truth. We both knew this. So explain to me why you did it?" Tears gather in your eyes but you blink them away. You straighten your back and lift your chin. Something you only do when you're mad. So almost never. And you've never been mad at him before.

Aemond bites the inside of his cheek. Anger wells up inside him and he curses his sister for telling you what he did.

He doesn't care that Helaena knows the truth.

He doesn't care that Aegon knows the truth.

He doesn't even care that his mother knows the truth.

But you? You shouldn't know. You shouldn't know what horrible things he did.

He sighs. "I am better suited for the crown." he starts. He knows that you have to agree with him on this. Aegon is a drunken idiot. Still, you shake your head.

"Who decided that? You? He is your brother. Our king. What you have done is treason." You spit the words at him.

His hand unconsciously clenches into a fist. No one should ever talk to him so disrespectfully.

"It was the only way." he explains. He just has to explain his reasons to you and then you will understand and agree with him. But you just laugh joyless and shake your head. Suddenly it seems as if all your strength has left you. Your shoulders slump and tears openly stream down your cheeks.

The sight breaks Aemond's heart. You look so hurt, so broken.

"What happened to you?" you asks with a trembling voice

"What do you mean?"

"You was once so kind." you answer him, still crying and still with an expression on your face that he has never seen before. You look like you have never experience a moment of joy in your life.

But Aemond knows that's not true. He knows your laugh. He knows your sparkling eyes.

You two are so happy together, only a few days ago you were so happy at his side.

"I have become wiser" Aemond says. He doesn´t want to think about the stupid child he was, runing after his brother and father begging for their attention and love.

This times are over. The only love he needs now is your love. And your love is his, always and forever. This is what you vow to him countless times.

You love him like he love you, with all of his heart and soul.

But now he doesn't feel any of your love. He only feels coldness and sadness but he can't understand why.

"No, you have become cruel." you say and then you add in a whisper "I do not recognize you."

The words are so quiet he barely heard them. He wishes he hadn't heard you because your words feel like you stabbed him with a dagger in his heart.

Aemond shakes his head. "No, you don't understand, my love. I didn't do that out of cruelness. I did it for us. For you and the Realm. Now we can rule together and bend the Relam to our own ideas. If Aegon dies, I will be king and you will be queen. " he explains. He doesn't even notice how desperate he sounds. Tears sting in his eye. When was the last time he cried? It's been years.

You look at him in shock and shake your head agaon. "No you doesn´t understand! I don't want to be queen. The only thing I wanted is to be your wife. I wanted your love and I wanted to love you. But not the person you have become. You are no longer my husband, you are a stranger." you sob, tears running freely down your cheeks and dripping down your chin

He takes a step towards you but you flinch away. His heart shatters into a thousand pieces and he stops in his movements. Aemond's hand is raised halfway to wipe the tears from your cheek. Cold runs through his body like the winter that comes from the north.

"You are afraid of me."

"Yes I am." you wipe away your treas and staining your silk sleeve of your dress. You look in his eye. "You almost murder your brother because of what? An argument? Because he didn't agree with you? I don't even want to imagine what you can do to me."

He shakes his head. "No. I would never hurt you. Your happiness is everthing I desire. All I ever want is to make you happy."

You have to understand him! You have to realize that everything he does is only for you and your happiness. He wants to give you the world and he can do it now. He can finally give you everything you deserve. He lays the Realm at your feet, as it always should have been.

"I was so happy when we got married. I was so happy with what we had." You say.

"You are happy. We are happy as long as me are together."

"No. You weren't happy. You wanted the crown. But I don't understand why? Why wasn't what we had enough? Why did you want more? I wasn't enough for you."

"My love. Don't say such horrible things. Of course you were enough for me. I love you and you love me. We are perfect together. Now we can build our perfect life."

"My life was perfect. It was perfect because I had you by my side. But you destroyed everything. You destroyed us."

Tears run down his cheeks without him being able to stop them. Aemonds body is shaking and he can literally feel his heart breaking. Guilt, sadness and shame overwhelm him.

"No. Please don't say that. Please don't. My love." "

I'm sorry." you sob. "I'm really sorry that I wasn't enough for you. That what we had wasn't enough."

"No." he shakes his head. Aemond doesn't want to admit it, but his world is collapsing around him and it's his fault. "Please don't do this. Please don't leave me." he begs, he wants to reach out to you, wants to pull you into his arms and kiss you and hold you and show you that he loves you and that you love him. But his body doesn't move.

You look up and into his eye, your eyes are now cold and a sad smile dances on your lips. "You left me Aemond. The second you reached for the throne, you betrayed me and us and you left me."

His throat feels dry. "Please." he brings out. He wants to scream and cry. He wishes that this was all just a bad dream and that he would wake up any second and be in bed next to you. Closely embraced and in love. Just as it should be. Just like it was.

"Your Grace." you say, curtsying slightly.

He can't move, can´t stop you, but his eyes follow you as you walk past him.

For a second your hand touches his, your fingertips brushing against his. It feels like a farewell. It's a farewell.

This gentle touch feels more violent than anything he's ever felt.

The pain is worse than the pain he felt when they cut out his eye. Hotter than Vhagar's flames. Colder than the steel of Criston's sword that had cut him during his sword exercises.

He is cold. Everything around him is cold. Everything inside him is cold. He takes a few steps through the chambers and sits down on the chair you were sitting on a short time ago.

Now he had everything he ever wanted. And he had lost everything he ever needed.

Helaena's question comes back to his mind. Was it worth the price? And now he has an answer for her: No.

I love this 🥰😍

Summer Storms

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: How a summer thunderstorm ends up bringing you and your husband, Aemond, closer.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, arranged marriage, growing affection, some soft!aemond as well as awkward!aemond, I guess the ending could be seen as suggestive/fade to black but that's up for your interpretation

AN: This idea popped into my head because there was a storm and I hate storms. Anyway, hope you all enjoy!

You knew that marriage would not be a great romance. It would not be love at first sight with grand declarations of love and sickeningly sweet sonnets, at least not for you. Your marriage to Aemond Targaryen was like any other union between a noble house and the royal family, solely for political means, the crown gains a powerful ally, and your house will see one of their own in line for the throne. You never expected anything different, but you still held onto the dream that you could experience romance. You knew it was foolish, but you couldn’t help it. You had grown up hearing stories and poems of love and they shaped you. As much as you wanted to be a realist, you were nothing more than a romantic and a dreamer. At the end of the day though, all you wished for was a friend if you could not have romantic love. Someone who you cared for and cared for you in return and could spend time with, but as weeks passed that wish seemed more like a foolish dream.

Aemond was distant. In the nearly two months since you had married you could count on one hand the moments you had spent with him, most of which had merely been silent meals together or small exchanges in the halls when you happened to pass by each other, you giving Aemond a shy smile and him nodding in return, if he noticed you at all. So many times, you thought of asking him to join you for tea or a walk through the gardens, but every time you would convince yourself that you would be inconveniencing him. You began to think you would never get to know your husband at all.

Until a summer storm came through the Red Keep.

A loud crash of thunder and a bright bolt of lightning woke you from your once peaceful sleep. Your heart beat rapidly within your chest. Ever since you could remember you had been terrified of storms. They brought you nothing but fear and anxiety. You knew sleep would evade you until the storm passed, but you would not stay in the confines of your chambers, that would only make the anxiety worse. Back in your homeland, you would wander around the halls, keeping your feet moving was the only thing that seemed to help. So, you donned your robe and slippers, grabbed a candle, and walked out into the hall.

-

You had been trying to go back to your chambers. An hour of idly walking through the Keep had not helped ease your fears, and all you wanted was to crawl into your bed to wait out the storm, but you had become lost.

The Red Keep was like a maze to you. Two months you had resided within its walls, and you still found yourself getting turned around. The halls were even more labyrinthian at night with the only light coming from the moon and torches, but the storm covered the light of the moon and snuffed out many of the torches, your candle was practically useless, but it brought you some semblance of comfort as you walked through the halls, the hem of your robe and nightgown damp from the puddles of rain water that scattered the floor.

A boisterous crack of thunder caused a muted cry to escape your lips. You walked faster down the hall, hoping that you would find the familiar door of your chambers. You kept your eyes down, trying to avoid the sight of the rain pelting against the stones of the castle and the wind whipping through the banners. While keeping your eyes downcast helped shield you from the sight of the storm, it only added further difficulty in your quest to find your room and caused you to run into something.

Your candle fell to the floor, and you gasped when someone grabbed your arm.

“Fear not, it is only me,” Aemond’s soft voice brought you a sense of ease if only for a moment, “What are you doing roaming about at this late hour?”

It was foolish, but you didn’t want to tell him why, afraid he might find your fear ridiculous and childish, “I could ask you the same question.”

You could not see, but Aemond smirked, finding your question about his activities amusing. He was about to answer with a witty comeback but was cut off by a crash of thunder.

You whimpered at the sound.

Aemond’s brow creased in concern, “Are you frightened of the storm?”

“No, of course not,” you feigned a laugh, “I am a grown woman, I’m not afraid of a—”

Another loud crash of thunder cut you off and you let out a cry. Aemond immediately grabbed your hand and pulled you down the hall towards his chambers.

Once inside, he turned to you with a sympathetic expression, “You can stay here with me tonight…or until the storm passes. Whichever makes you more comfortable.”

He quickly let go of your hand and walked into his room, busying himself with something or other. It took you a moment to fully comprehend what had just happened. One moment you were trying to find your chambers and the next you were in Aemond’s. And he actually spoke to you. You were certain that had been the longest conversation you’d had with Aemond, outside of reciting your wedding vows to each other.

You finally walked further into his chambers, taking everything in. It was warmer than you expected, almost inviting in a way, not very colorful, but you didn’t think it would be. Chairs and a couch could be seen off to the side, adorned with cushions and blankets. Various scrolls and books littered the tables, a map of Westeros as well, and along the back wall, a giant mural.

Aemond felt a bit of unease. He detested having people in his chambers, but the fear in your eyes due to the storm tugged at his heart in a way he couldn’t explain, and he had pulled you into his room before he even knew what he was doing. But the uneasiness wasn’t from you being in his chambers, it was because you being there didn’t bother him at all. It seemed natural to him almost, like you were a missing piece that was meant to be there all along.

You continued your self-guided tour through his room; you half expected it to just be an armory, a complete arsenal of weapons, but that would be ridiculous. Even the fearsome Aemond Targaryen must need a space of his own to unwind and rest, right? When you laid eyes on Aemond’s bed, you tried to stifle the laugh that bubbled up in your chest, but it escaped quietly through your nose.

The sound of your quiet laughter caught his attention, “Is there something you find amusing?”

“It is nothing.”

Aemond felt a tightness in his chest after he saw the small smile on your face, your continued giggling making him more flustered as he walked closer to you, “Tell me.”

His words were harsh, but the tone seemed more inquisitive to you. You bit back the remainder of your laughter and explained, “I know this will sound utterly ridiculous, but I’m surprised to see that you have a bed.”

Aemond blinked twice before speaking, “And why, pray tell, would I not have a bed?”

You began to fidget with your fingers under his gaze, “You don’t seem like you sleep.”

“Are you telling me I look like I need sleep?” His voice held a bit of offense.

You shook your head, “No, my apologies, I only meant that…to me you seem like someone who would find sleeping to be a trivial matter; that it would be beneath you. I suppose this has humanized you in my eyes. That’s all.”

Thick, heavy silence filled the room. The only sound that could be heard was the rain outside. You began to fear that you had overstepped and offended him.

“I am sorry. That was a foolish thing for me to say. After all, everyone must sleep, it is only natural.”

Before he could stop himself, Aemond chuckled, “I am unfortunately only a mere mortal, which means I do require rest to function.”

You smiled, “But I thought Targaryens were closer to gods than to men?”

“Well, that would be for our ability to tame dragons, not an ability to forever remain awake.” Aemond teased.

Had Aemond just made a joke? You had not thought such a thing was possible. The twists and turns of the night’s events were completely unexpected. The two of you smiled kindly at one another, affection blooming in your chest.

The moment was ruined, however, when the storm decided to pick up. A clap of thunder echoed through Aemond’s chambers, and the wind whistled as it slipped in through the windows, sounding like a ghostly moan.

You jumped, releasing another cry, and Aemond grabbed your hand and held it between both of his. It strangely brought you comfort, and you ran your free hand along the tops of his, taking notice of all the little scars you assumed he got from years of sword training and battles. When you looked up at him, his gaze was on your joined hands, a perplexed expression on his face.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “if your offer still stands, I think I would like to stay here tonight. I do not believe the storm will let up anytime soon, and I do not wish to be alone. Is that alright?”

Aemond watched as you continued to run your fingers along his hands, he found the action odd, but it sent a wave of heat, like dragon’s fire up his arm and into his chest. He nodded when your words finally set in.

You felt a sudden wave of drowsiness come over you which Aemond seemed to notice.

“Why don’t you try and get some rest?” He moved his hands to your shoulders, squeezing ever so slightly.

“Alright.”

You took your robe off and placed it on a nearby chair. After a few moments of hesitation, you lifted the sheets and climbed into Aemond’s bed. You waited for him to climb in next to you, but when you looked over you saw him seemingly pacing back and forth between the bed and the small couch.

“Is everything alright?” You asked.

Aemond stopped in his tracks, “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable by sleeping next to you.”

“Oh,” his consideration for your feelings made your heart skip a beat, “I would not be uncomfortable with that.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

He hesitated for only a moment, then took off his leathers and awkwardly climbed into bed.

The two of you stared up at the ceiling, neither uttering a word. It would have remained that way if not for another crack of thunder that shook the whole keep. Not of your own accord, you quickly turned to your side and buried your head in Aemond’s chest at the sound. Aemond for a moment was rigid, his hand hovering above you, unsure if he should touch you.

“My apologies, I was just startled by the thunder. I’ll move.”

You started to return to staring back up at the ceiling, but Aemond stopped you, “You don’t have to move unless you want to.”

When you looked into his eye, all you saw was tenderness, something you had never seen in him before. It made heat rise to your cheeks and caused a flutter in your heart. You snuggled further into his side, and he in turn pulled you into his arms.

Safely wrapped in your husband’s strong arms, you drifted off to sleep, the storm forgotten as you felt nothing but warmth surround you.

 -

Aemond was the first to wake, only rousing due to the morning rays of the sun hitting his eye. It was unusual for him to sleep so late into the morning. He would normally be up before first light. He noted how well-rested he felt. It had been the best sleep he’d had in a long time, possibly even the best sleep he’d ever had.

He looked down at you, still asleep, a small, peaceful smile on your face. An unfamiliar feeling swelled in his chest and a wave of affection for you came over him as he continued to watch you sleep. His hand came to rest on your cheek, and when you unconsciously nuzzled further into his hand, he felt the sudden urge to kiss your forehead. Not one to lean into new emotions and feelings, Aemond abruptly pulled himself away from you and out of bed, causing you to stir.

Aemond gave an exasperated sigh, frustrated with himself for disturbing you, “Apologies, I did not mean to wake you.”

“It is alright,” you blinked the sleep from your eyes, “I suppose I shall return to my chambers.”

“No!” Aemond cringed at the volume and urgency of his voice, “I mean, please do not feel as though you must return to your chambers. You are free to stay here and rest some more if you so choose.”

“Oh,” your surprised expression sent a flutter through Aemond’s chest, “thank you.”

Aemond gave a slow nod of his head before walking off to get dressed for the day. You debated going back to your chambers, but you suddenly found yourself lying back down and drifting off to sleep once more.

Before Aemond left his chambers, he looked over and found you asleep again. That wave of affection he felt earlier returned, along with whatever that unfamiliar feeling was. A hint of a smile crept into the corner of his mouth as he gazed at you. The urge to kiss you came to him once again, only this time he did not cower away. Placing his knee on the bed, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead. When you stirred slightly, he lost all of his courage and dashed out of the room.

-

Storms continued to roll through King’s Landing for over a fortnight, and each night you found yourself roaming the halls of the Keep unable to sleep. During your sleepless wandering, you would inevitably run into Aemond and he would take you to his chambers where you would spend the night in his arms. It had become almost routine. And as the nights passed by, both you and Aemond grew more comfortable with each other. Your meals together were no longer silent, he would walk with you in the halls, you had finally invited him to join you for tea, which he gratefully accepted.

It was slow, but affection had finally taken root.

So, when the storms had finally come to an end, you felt a mix of emotions. You were grateful the storms had passed, and you would no longer have to feel your chest tighten and stomach fill with dread, but there was a disappointment you felt as well. In the short amount of time you had been spending your nights with him, you had grown accustomed to sleeping in Aemond’s arms.

The night was still and quiet yet sleep still evaded you. You stared up at the ceiling waiting for sleep to finally take hold of you, but it never did. In your heart you knew why; you missed Aemond. You realized that you could no longer fall asleep without him, it felt as though a part of you was missing.

Not wanting to waste another second, you rushed out of bed, deciding you could not be parted from Aemond for even one night. You would tell him you had a nightmare or thought you heard the distant sound of thunder; that would be believable enough for him to usher you into his chambers and you could sleep soundly in his arms.

Quickly donning your robe and slippers, you practically ran to your large chamber door and threw it open. Upon opening the door, you were startled to find Aemond standing on the other side, his fist raised as if he had been ready to knock.

“I did not mean to frighten you.” Aemond said quickly, his voice laden with concern.

You let yourself catch your breath, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, um…” he paused, moving his hands behind his back, “I thought I heard thunder in the distance and wanted to check on you. I know you do not care for storms, and just wanted to make certain that you were alright.”

Seeing his gaze cast to the floor and the nervous shifting of his feet made your heart skipped a beat, “Aemond?”

The way you said his name made his chest tighten and heat bloom in his cheeks.

He looked up at you, “Yes?”

You took a step closer to him, “I could not sleep without you either.”

You had barely finished your sentence when Aemond seized you by the waist and crashed his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, closing the door to your chambers behind him.

-

As you laid in your husband’s arms that night, you thought about the stories and poems you grew up with. That foolish dream of romance had not been so foolish after all it seemed. While your story was not one of love at first sight, sweeping declarations, or sickeningly sweet sonnets, it was still a love story. And to you, the great romances that were written about in storybooks could not compare to yours and Aemond’s.

Can you do Aemond x f!reader? And the reader being a lot like Helaena (I'm projecting lol, I want an autistic reader basically). Just fluff between them, maybe newlywed?

Learn to Love you - Aemond Targaryen x WifeReader

summary: Aemond tries to understand his new wife, but you are too much like his sister. He can't get through to you. One evening he tries it with direct confrontation and is rewarded with a glimpse of you and hope for the future. After this evening his wife is not a complete stranger anymore.

words: 2.818

warnings: softAemond, a bit angst

a/n: based on the request above. Unfortunately it didn't turn out quite as fluffy as it should. I hope you like it anyway :) I'm not autistic myself and don't want to hurt any feelings with the portrayl of the Reader. I based her on Helaena in the show.

Gif not mine// English is not my first language// no use of Y/N // AO3 // not proofread// requests are open

Aemond moves quietly through the halls of his home. The Red Keep slowly goes calm. The sun has already set, and most have retreated to their private chambers. Aemond is tired and longs for his own chambers and his bed. He had spent the evening a little longer than usual talking with Ser Criston. The sworn shield of his mother and he had trained together in the courtyard in the morning. Criston had discussed a few improvements with him. If his sore muscles would allow it, Aemond would try out the improvements tomorrow. But before he can retreat for the evening, he still has a task to complete. He still has his evening visit with his wife to attend to.

His marriage is not really how he imagine it would be. It's been almost a week since you two got married. You've known each other for 10 days. When you arrived at the Red Keep and he saw you for the first time, he had been relieved. A pretty face and a friendly smile had greeted him. Aemond tried to get to know you and realized that you are more than just a pretty face. You are nice, polite, smart, well-read, but strange. Often you drift off into your own world. Captured by your thoughts. You will be in a place where Aemond cannot follow you. And he quickly realized that you can't stand it when he touches you.

During your wedding ceremony, you didn't touch him more than necessary. The touch of your lips almost triggered a panic attack for you. You tore your hand away from his. Aemond would have liked to hold your hand a little longer. On this night, he did not dare to lay with you. This didn´t change over the last week, so you are still a maiden. Not that Aemond has told anyone, and as far as he knows, you haven't said a word either.

Maybe it's because he is a stranger to you? Aemond doesn't really know what to do. He doesn't like the situation. But he also doesn't know how he should change it. His usual solution, Vhagar, will definitely not work here.

He tried to seek advice from his brother. I don't know. With Helaena, it was different. I knew her well before we got married. For your wife, you are just a stranger. Aegon is right but Aemond didn't know how to change that.

So he went to his mother. Give her time to get to know you.

Both pieces of advice only led him to visit you every evening and try to get to know you. However, you mostly sit there in awkward silence and do not look at each other. You still feel uncomfortable in his presence he knows this.

Arriving at your chambers, he takes a deep breath once more and steps inside. The room is still lit by a few candles. He closes the door and watches as you pace restlessly in front of the fireplace.

"You are later than usual." you say, stopping in your movement. Now that Aemond is here, the unrest fades a little. Still, it bothers you that he doesn't come to visit you during his usual time frame. It's actually almost time for you to call your maids so they can help you change and you can go to sleep.

“I apologize for being late.” Aemond says even though he doesn't understand why it bothers you. Have you already gotten your hopes up that he won't come today? You look at him for a moment and then nod.

Without saying a word, you sit down in the armchair by the fireplace where you sit every evening. Aemond takes off his sword belt and places his weapon next to the door. He had considered that it might make you nervous that he carries a sword with him. So he puts down his weapon every evening before he sits down with you. Fortunately, you know nothing about the dagger in his boot.

Aemond even had a dagger made for you as a wedding gift. A beautiful weapon, with a gracefully curved handle and on the blade, just before the hilt begins, is a small dragon embossed that is inspired by Vhagar. Aemond hasn't had the chance to give you this gift yet. He knows that you need to get to know him better in order to understand the thought behind it. You should always be able to protect yourself, in case he might not be able to someday.

He shakes off the thought and sits down in the other armchair next to the fireplace. You don't look at him, but into the flames. Just like every evening. When you start to speak in a quiet voice he almost flinches.

"Why are you later than usual?" your hands are playing with the fabric of your skirt. You haven't changed for the night yet. You´re never when Aemond comes into your chambers. Even your hair is still braided into tight braids. Aemond feels like a visitor in his wife's chambers.

"I discussed my training with Ser Criston. There were a few problems this morning," he replies honestly.

Your face shows no reaction as you respond. “Are you hurt?”

Are you worried about him? No. Why should you? He is a stranger to you. But he still worries about you even though you are a stranger to him. After all, you are married. He wished he could read your thoughts.

"No, I am not hurt. Even though I don't really want it, Ser Criston is always a bit cautious during training with me." he is trying to ease your worries. If you are worried. Again, he tries to read your expression, but your face remains still. Your only reaction is that you turn your head to look at him. The fire in the fireplace casts warm light on your profile and your skin shimmers almost like gold. Once again, Aemond notices how beautiful you are. You look at him, and your gaze prompts Aemond to continue speaking. "I don't want him to hold back because, in a serious situation, my opponent won't hold back either."

"Which serious situation?" you still ask in a quiet voice.

"I don't know. If my family is in danger." and then he adds quietly. "If you are in danger."

The corner of your mouth twitch slightly and you almost smile. Then you turn your gaze away again and look into the fireplace. Aemond suppresses the urge to reach for your hand in your lap. Silence spreads again between you. The uncomfortable silence causes a hot burning sensation in Aemond's gut. Still, he can't take his eyes off you. You seem a bit sad. He decides that it can't go on like this. Aemond has to swallow and gathers all his courage to speak again.

"You are not happy."

This time you turn not just your head towards him but your whole body. He is surprised when your gaze meets him and you look directly into his eyes. Rarely can you hold his gaze. Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you think. It takes a moment before you respond.

"No. No, it's just that it's hard for me. My father brought me here, and this is a strange place for me. All the people around me are strangers. I miss my family and my home. Everything I knew was taken away from me. I was used to everything at home. I had my routines and everything. It's hard for me to adjust to all these new things around me. But it doesn't have anything to do with you."

Aemond is surprised by your words and needs a moment to truly understand what you have said. Guilt overwhelms him. It is his fault that you were kidnapped from your home. Because you had to marry him.

"I'm sorry," he says. Now it is him who cannot withstand your gaze and he looks at his hands.

"I don't blame you." once again, you surprise him your voice is now a bit firmer. "It wasn't your decision to marry me. Just as it was not my decision to marry you. That was agreed upon by our parents." you sigh. "You are not happy either. And that is my fault. I know that I'm weird."

"No! I don't find you weird."

You laugh softly and at the sound Aemond's heart skips a beat. He is looking at you again, he wants to hear you laugh once more.

"You don't have to lie."

"I am not lying. I don't find you weird. You remind me of my sister."

Your eyes start to shine. "Hel. I like her a lot."

He feels a slight tug at his heart. Aemond knows that you usually spend your days in the company of his sister Helaena. He has seen both of you walking in the garden a few times or engrossed in conversation while eating. He would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of Helaena.

"Yes, I know. Do you spend a lot of time with her?“

You nod. "Yes. I enjoy being with her." "What are you doing all day?"“ Aemond is clinging to every strand. Everything is better than this uncomfortable silence between you.

"Oh, very different things. Sometimes we read together, or she explains something to me about insects. Sometimes I read one of my poems to her. Or I’ll give her one to read."

Aemond is captivated by the sparkle in your eyes.

"You write poetry?" he asks, annoyed with himself for not knowing this about you, but Hel did. Your cheeks are slightly turning red, and for the first time, Aemond feels like he can read your emotions from your face.

"Yes, among with other things. I also enjoy reading poetry. My favorite poet is Marcus Hill. He writes incredibly well. My poems are not even close to being that good. But I don't just write poems, I also write short stories. This helps me organize my thoughts better. But I like most writing poems.“ you speak a little faster than usual, which reveals your excitement to Aemond. He can't help but smile at the sight. Now that you are passionately talking about your interests, you are even more beautiful.

Suddenly you jump up from your chair. Aemond's hand instinctively goes to where his sword's hilt usually is. In the next second, it becomes clear to him that there is no danger, and he relaxes again. You didn't notice anything because you turned away immediately and took a few uncertain steps through your chamber before turning back to him. Uncertain, your hands begin to play with the fabric of your skirt. You take a deep breath and then search for his gaze for a second before looking away again. Aemond leans forward a bit, tense with anticipation. Finally you start to speak. "Would you like to… I mean just if you want? You don't have to." You stop yourself, take a deep breath and gathering your thoughts. "Would you like to read one of my poems?" you ask softly.

Aemonds heart skips a beat and a pleasant warmth spreads within him. "Yes. Very gladly."

You nod, turn back around, and walk to your nightstand. You pick up a book with a leather cover and open it. Aemond notices from his seat that it is stuffed with written pages, and almost every book page is filled with your neat handwriting. You rummage through the loose papers and then pull out a page before you close the book again and carefully place it back in its spot. You are coming back to him.

"I wrote this on the day of our wedding," you say, handing him the sheet of paper. In that moment, your fingertips brush against his. The touch is so fleeting that Aemond is not sure if he might have just imagined it.

He turns his gaze away from you and directs it to the folded paper between his fingers. He wants to open it to read your poem, but before he has really moved his fingers, your hand shoots forward and holds his hand firmly. Aemond skin tingles and he lightly closes his hands around yours.

"No. Please don't read it here. That would be too embarrassing for me. Please read it later and tell me tomorrow what you thought," you say quickly. Aemond looks up again and directly into your eyes. He saw you that close for the last time on your wedding day in the sept. A shiver runs through his body and he can only nod. You also nod and allow him to briefly squeeze your hand before you pull back and sit down again in your chair opposite to him. He already misses the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

Aemond folds the paper with your face completely again and then puts it in the pocket of his shirt. Suddenly, this piece of paper is his most precious possession.

"Now you know something about me." you notice. Aemond can't gauge whether the fact bothers you or not. He hopes it  doesn´t. Before he can ask, you are already speaking again. "You like sword training. I could watch your training?” you suggest.

Aemond thinks about the training courtyard. About the loud clashing of the swords striking against each other, the sreams of the knights, the swearing and the rough manner of speaking among men. And then he thinks of you, his gentle, fragile wife. Sometimes the gentle background music that plays during dinner is too loud for you. You would hate it.

"No, this is not a suitable environment for you, my Lady. The men do not know how to behave in the presence of a princess." he explains.

"Oh."

Aemond sees how you stiffen a little again and turn your gaze back towards the fireplace. The fire is almost out. Aemond is afraid that the closeness he has found today will slip away from him again, and as a result, he starts to speak a bit too quickly.

"But if you want, I can join you on your walk tomorrow?" he is momentarily afraid that this will disrupt your routine, but you look at him again.

"Yes, that would be nice. I always take a stroll through Queen Alyssa's garden after afternoon tea."

Aemond must suppress a smile. He is, of course, well informed about your daily routine. Even though he hasn't really been able to talk to you until today, he has always kept a close eye on what you're doing. "I am happy to be allow to accompany you." his gaze falls on your hands folded in your lap, and once again, longing pulls at him to reach for your hand. "When we go for a walk. Would you allow me to hold your hand then? I know you don't like my touches. But...

"No. It's not your touches that I don't like.I don't like touches from anyone, regardless of who." you clarify things quickly. "But yes. I will allow it. I know about it know, so I can prepare myself for it. If I´m prepared I can hold your hand.”

This time Aemond cannot suppress his smile. A pleasant anticipation for tomorrow fills him and he feels as if he has made a significant step forward in his marriage today.

The ringing of the bell in the great sept makes you both flinch. Startled you look out the window, then you get up and walk through your rooms. "I have to call my maids and go to bed.It's already past my usual time."

Aemond quickly gets up as well and nods. Bad conscience about the fact that he disrupted your routine today weighs on him. He turns to the door and goes to his sword belt to put it back on. As he just fastens the buckle and turns to leave, you turn to him once more.

"Thank you, Aemond. Our conversation was good for me. I enjoyed it very much. I´m looking forward to our walk tomorrow and I'm curious to hear what you think of my poem."  and then you smile directly at him for the first time.

His heart starts to race immediately, and Aemond is sure that he has just fallen in love. Unconsciously, he places his hand on the pocket where he has put your poem. Then he returns your smile.

"Yes, I also enjoyed it very much. Good night, my Lady Wife. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night, my Lord Husband.” you respond still with a smile on your face.  

Aemond nods briefly and then leaves your chambers. His steps are light, and he intends to speak with the steward first thing tomorrow morning so that he can arrange for the poet Marcus Hill to be invited to the Red Keep as soon as possible.