#aemond Targaryen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thekinslayed · 17 hours

Text

You Adored Me Before (2)

summary | Aemond claims his lady under the gods' watchful eye.

warning | 18+, minors dni

tags | oral sex (f), p in v sex, religious themes, mentions of war, death, mentions of poison, inappropriate use of a religious place, aemond eats it from the back, slight angst maybe

wordcount | 4.7k

note | my personal face claim for the reader's husband may or may not have been tom hiddleston, bc i mean... come on 😮‍💨 i finished half a bottle of wine writing the latter part of this fic lol

likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! <3

(dividers by @targaryen-dynasty)

1/2

Her days had been spent in a daze, brought on by the losing grip on her restraint and an underlying uncertainty of what was to come. After that night, she bid herself not to slip again so easily. Aemond demanded little of her, only to have her by his bed by the end of the night, to which she denied. He did not touch her, nor did he take her, despite both of their overwhelming desires. Like a moth to a flame, the lady felt drawn to him, just as she always had been. Once she had gotten a taste of what pleasure he could bring her, she could feel herself losing her grip on her morals and integrity. However, she knows she cannot, not yet. She willed herself to keep him at an arm’s distance, but there were moments when she could not find it in herself to deny him.

Each time she let him hold her for a second too long, each night she succumbed to her dreams of Aemond holding her in his arms, and each time her hands dipped down beneath her blanket to pleasure herself to the thoughts of the man who lay in the next room over, she willed herself to remember her vows.

My lord husband would want me to be happy, would he not? Her thoughts contradicted her.

He would, the good man that he is, but she knows the shame this would bring upon his name. She couldn’t do it to him, not now when he is on his deathbed. However as each day passed, both the lady and her prince were losing their grip on keeping their desires at bay. A hand lingering for a second too long on her waist, adoring caresses on his scarred cheek, even a few stolen kisses in the privacy of his chamber.

With another house pledged to his brother’s reign, Aemond had more men to bring into the next battle. His days have been spent poring over battle strategies, coordinating with Ser Criston Cole, who remained in Harrenhal with his men, through letters sent by raven. Aemond wished for the lady to be present in these councils, but she had her duties as lady of the house that kept her occupied. She had no taste for politics nor war, often tuning out the men’s discussions at the dinner table; the talks of death and violence made her uneasy.

On a day when the men were to plan their strategies once more, Aemond had been to the council chamber before everyone else. He had asked the lady to accompany him before they were to be apart for the day. She stood by the window, observing the preparations being made for the coming move. Behind her, Aemond sat by the head of the table, reading the latest parchment that came by raven from Cole.

“What do you suppose happens after all of this?” She spoke up, staring at the horses being lined up by the stable boys. When once she had considered herself and her house exempt from the war, the young woman now finds herself thrown into the middle, especially as the King’s strongest fighter and rider of the largest dragon resided in her husband’s home.

“The hope is to keep Aegon’s line on the throne, my lady, and for any threat to his reign to be defeated,” Aemond responded. He turned his head to catch a glimpse of her, but she was out of his line of sight. “Come here, dearest. Let me see you.” He bid her, a hand extended out to her approaching form.

The lady places her hand in his, standing before her prince. He brings her hand to his lips, placing a sweet kiss, before caressing her knuckles with his thumb. She gives a small smile at the gesture. “And how about you, my prince? What do you think the gods have in store for you after this war?” She asks. If the question took Aemond by surprise, he did not show it, but it took him a moment to ponder on her question.

“I know not of what the gods desire for me, but I can only hope they see that everything I have done was for my House, for duty.” He replied. She saw nothing but honesty in his eye as he spoke, which made her squeeze his hand softly.

“It almost sounds as if you expect the gods to reward you.” The lady teased, which made Aemond laugh. In the blink of an eye, he pulled her to his lap, wrapping his arm around her waist before she could protest, a soft yelp of surprise leaving her lips. “If they do, the Seven know of what I most desire. I ask for none but one thing only.” The prince insinuated, smirking as his lady’s cheeks flushed at his words. His hand cups her jaw, before planting kisses across her cheeks, making her giggle.

“Aemond! They may come at any moment.” She warned, squirming in his lap to try and get away. His grip on her only tightens as he nuzzles his face into her neck. “Grant me a moment longer, my darling, before you leave me to deal with this tedious affair.” The prince mumbled into her skin. She allowed herself to relax into his lap, cupping his face to make him look at her. Her nose nuzzled against his as he caressed her waist. They stay in each other’s arms for a moment longer, merely talking and exchanging teasing smiles. Everything came naturally to the pair, as though they were man and wife. Aemond relished in making his lady blush, a dimpled smirk adorning his face every time she did so.

Amid the moment they shared, the doors to the council chamber opened. She jumps and tries to stand from Aemond’s lap, but his firm grip keeps her in place. Her panicked eyes meet his calm one, a teasing smile on his thin lips. “This is inappropriate, my prince, please.” The lady pleaded, grabbing his arm that still held her tightly. She had forgotten herself at a terrible moment. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment at being caught in such an indecorous position. He lets her go, and she immediately scrambles off to the side. She smooths down her skirts, subtly checking if anybody caught sight of them. Her eyes meet that of her good brother’s who in return gave the flustered woman a satisfied look. As the men all take their seats, she sees herself out of the chamber, though not before being handed a letter from the maester.

“This came for you this morning, my lady, from your husband’s encampment.” He informs her. A strange feeling in her gut simmers as she is handed the rolled parchment, failing to notice the way the one-eyed prince turns to the new Lord Paramount as she leaves the room. The moment the doors close behind her, the young man says proudly, “It has been done, my prince.”

Her husband had passed during the night, alone in his tent as he took his final breath. The healers had determined he had succumbed to his wounds, as was said in the letter written to her. From the numerous parchments sent to her in the past moons detailing how her husband’s condition every time they reached her, the lady knew this moment was coming. She had been preparing for it, waiting with bated breath for the news to reach her of his passing. The day had finally come and despite having expected this, she could not help but weep in the confines of her chambers. From grief or guilt, she did not know, but hot tears fell from her cheeks all the same. She knew why she struggled to know the reason why such shame tainted her heart. Men indulge in affairs all the time and their wives merely had to turn their heads away; such was the order of things. Her doing the same should not weigh on her conscience so heavily, but it did.

Oh, but Aemond. Her prince who displayed a certain gentleness reserved only for her. The lady could not find it within her to deny how her heart soared when she felt the ground tremble when Vhagar landed on their grounds the moment he had come for her. It had thumped heavily in her chest when her eyes landed on him in her husband’s great hall, acting so traitorous she had to slip away to avoid him lest she did something reckless. The prince was the only one who could steer her away from duty, the only one who could persuade her to forget the morals instilled in her since she was a girl, if only for a moment behind closed doors. She cursed the one-eyed man for taking hold of her heart the moment she laid eyes on her the day she arrived in the Red Keep, and for having never let go of it since. Yet she thanked him all the same for having been shown love.

The string of fate connecting them would eventually pull them back together. It was only a matter of time, this much she knew. The moment she was whisked away in a carriage from King’s Landing to become another man’s wife, she felt it deep in her heart.

As much as her husband’s death was expected to come, so was her return to Aemond’s arms.

When Aemond took the skies to come for her, he knew he had to be patient, but now he was running out of time. He had given the excuse of settling the dispute of a great House’s succession when he left his mother and his bedridden king, but this had taken longer than expected. With a new Lord Paramount loyal to their faction and more men for his brother’s army, Aemond’s duty as prince regent called him back to King’s Landing, as well as Harrenhal where he commandeered the Greens’ army. He had to hasten with this matter.

It had been too easy, really. A small slip of nightshade in the dark confines of the man’s tent was enough to make it seem like he had passed peacefully through the night. The former Lord Paramount’s brother was all too eager to take charge of the task in return for Aemond’s hand in granting him the new position. His men slipped into the encampment when night fell, easily blending in with the thousands of soldiers scattered around the woods.

The prince let his lady grieve, he allowed her to play the part of a devoted wife once more. He figured a week would be enough time, and then he would take her with him. At that time, he had let her have her space from him as much as she needed. In truth, Aemond could feel her slipping away. For a moment he worried whether she knew about the truth of her husband’s death, but he made sure it was done in the utmost discretion. He knows of her family’s communication with her, and how they called her to return home. He needed to convince her to return to King’s Landing with him, and he had to act quickly before he wasted this second chance.

As the sun set over the horizon on the day before his departure, the silver-haired prince found her in the castle’s small sept, kneeling before the eyes of the Seven. She made no move to acknowledge his presence as he closed the door behind him. Aemond kneeled slightly behind her, but his place still granted him be able to study her face. Her eyes were closed and her face was calm, while her chest rose and fell at a steady pace. He could see how her lips made the slightest movements as she continued her prayers. The numerous candles lit on the altar cast a warm glow on her features, and the shadows contoured the curves of her body through her dress. They stayed in silence for a moment, before Aemond cleared his throat to speak up.

“It seems you spend most of the hours of the day in prayer, my lady. What do you pray for?” Aemond asked. She gives him a low hum, opening her eyes to stare at the statues of the Seven hanging above them. “I pray for the Stranger to grant my husband his rest. I pray for the Mother to protect all women and children from the dangers of the war.” She says softly, eyes still trained on the stones before her.

I pray to the Maiden for forgiveness for having forgone my vows to my husband on his final days.

“I pray for the Warrior to protect all soldiers as they fight for their cause on the battlefield.” She continues, paying no mind as Aemond moves to kneel closer to her. His fingers start to trail along the edge of her gown, making a breath hitch in her throat. Warmth engulfs her through the fabric of her skirts, as his hand runs up and down to feel her outer thigh. He hums at her last statement, hand squeezing the meat of her flesh before caressing her once more.

“For whose cause?” He asked, turning to look at her curiously. It was then she turned her head to meet his gaze over her shoulder. His breath fans across her face, much too close than she expected. The lack of distance between them makes her face warm almost instantly, coupled with his hand that has now settled on her waist.

“The Warrior chooses no sides, my prince, he only guides the men that draw their sword upon his name.” She whispered, earning a smirk from him in return. Desire brews deep within her as his head dips to plant a kiss on her neck while his hand slithers over to rest over her belly. Her head subtly tilts to the side to give him more room to nuzzle his nose against her soft skin.

“Do you think the gods hear you then? With how many men die every day on the battlefield it seems to me they enjoy watching us wage war. They like to play their games, changing our fates as they desire, and relish in the way their devotees come crawling for mercy.” Aemond stated. He rested his chin on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers. As his hand on her belly caresses her, it dips a little too low to her center, prompting her to squeeze her thighs together as a spark of arousal pulsed through her core. He was teasing her.

“My, has your faith become so unbelieving, my prince?” The lady responds, albeit shakily. He huffs a deep chuckle against her skin, his eye looking up at the figures looking down at him. Aemond never thought himself to be devoutly faithful to such gods. He might have been, all those years ago, when he was his mother’s companion to the sept for her prayers while his siblings took the skies on their dragons. Time and circumstance have proven to him the gods do little to prevent suffering and pain. They did not spare him when he lost his eye, or when his sister, Helaena, suffered such tragedy with the loss of her son, nor did they listen to his silent, desperate pleas when Aegon’s armor melted into his skin as he took his fall from the skies at Rook’s Rest. They have fallen deaf to his prayers time and time again.

“The gods in all their power have done little to hear me, my lady. I have found no use in speaking to the sky and waiting agonizingly to be given what I seek, instead, I take matters into my own hands.” Aemond expressed, sensing from the corner of his eye that her head turned to face him. “Not all of us are granted that power, my prince. Some of us can only seek for a chance to be heard.” She contended, earning another hum from him in response.

“Perhaps. But if the gods granted me such power, would it not be unwise for me to not yield it?” The prince bemused. She doesn’t respond, but stares at his face as the shadows created by the flickering flames of the candlelight highlight his features. His silver hair almost shone like the moon in contrast to the darkness of the sept, and her hand twitched to run her hand through his tresses. Her eye trailed down from his eye to the length of his aquiline nose, eventually settling on the sight of his lips.

How can he deny the gods’ power when he had been carved by their hands themselves?

Aemond’s head dipped to catch her lips, but her hand upon his chest stopped him. His eye meets hers, a pained look filled with restraint in her orbs. He caresses his thumb on her cheek before cupping her jaw. She leans into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment as she sighs.

“You are a free woman now, my love. Why do you continue to deny yourself such liberty?” He asks softly. None of them speak any louder than a whisper, their moment of solitude granting them such intimacy they dared not to disrupt. The young lady faltered for a moment. She had always known her place in this world, she had known that her fate would end up as some man’s wife for the benefit of her House. She had taken the news of her marriage with a polite nod, swallowing down the despair that crumbled her heart. Her position granted her little room to want, and had taught herself to take whatever was given to her. Now the object of her greatest desire stood before her, and she was presented with a chance to freely take, yet she found herself hesitant.

She feared a cruel jest was being played on her, and all that she yearned for would be snatched away from her fingertips as soon as she reached for it.

It was at that moment she determined she shall hesitate no further. The favor of the gods is a fickle thing, and she was tired of waiting to be granted a small sliver of hope, like a man in a desert waiting for a drop of rain.

“I have been given little reason to want in my life, I only know to take what is given me.” She breathed out. “But I no longer wish to abstain myself from what I most desire. Not when it has benefited me so little, not when it has cost me you.”

“I am here now,” Aemond reassured, his hand still cupping her jaw with a firm grip. “And I am all yours.”

Hearing his words, she smashes her lips against his. The shackles of her restraint break away in a frenzy of teeth and tongue, her head growing light as his lips claimed her own. A soft moan leaves her as his tongue explores her mouth, reaching deep enough to reach her throat. Her head reached back to grip his hair, while his squeezed on her breast through her dress.

Aemond pulls away, huffing in amusement as she chases his lips. His hand leaves her breast and settles on her lower back, urging her to bend over. She settles on her elbows, breath shuddering as his deft fingers lift her skirts. The lady hears a grunt behind her as her glistening core meets Aemond’s hungry gaze. His cock jumps in his breeches, straining almost painfully against the fabric. His finger swipes down her slit, causing her to whimper.

“Please, Aemond.” She pleaded, hips bucking backward to chase his touch. Calloused hands grip both her cheeks, squeezing and spreading them as he pleased. A gasp leaves her lips when his tongue licks a stripe up her slit. Her hands curl into fists, nails digging into her palms as his hot, wet muscle meets her dripping cavern. Aemond wastes no time in devouring her, licking and fucking her with his tongue in a way that made her toes clench in her slippers. Her moans echo through the chamber, accompanied by the wet sounds of her prince slurping on her cunt. As quickly as she found herself approaching her precipice, he pulled away from her. A whine fell from her lips as he did so, followed by another please for him.

“Do you plead for your gods this sweetly, beloved?” Aemond rasped out. One hand goes to the laces of his breeches, untying it in haste and freeing his cock. He hissed as he grips his weeping shaft, cockhead flushed a painful shade of red. He swipes it down her slit, just like he did with his tongue, before pushing in to breach her entrance. Sighs leave both their lips as Aemond slips in, his hands gripping her waist to steady himself. He gave her a moment to adjust, biting his lip as her walls squeezed him deliciously.

“Fuck, did your husband not fuck you enough for you to be this tight?” The prince cursed. Aemond throws his head back in delight, relishing the sweet sound that leaves his love’s lips as his hips thrust into her at a steady pace.

“Oh, Aemond. I–” She stammers, losing her words as another moan leaves her.

“Three years he had you, yet your womb never swelled with child. Why is that, hm? Was his seed as weak as he was?” He hissed, hips picking up the pace. A hand smacks her rear, before smoothing down the flesh with his palm. The walls reverberated with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the squelching of her moist folds, and the chorus of moans that left the pair.

The head of Aemond’s cock reached deep within her, poking her sweet spot so deliciously that her eyes rolled back into her skull. She was losing her wits, but she had never been more satisfied to be lost in such pleasure. An arm slithered around her waist to pull her back against his chest, hips never faltering as he cupped her jaw to make her look up at the altar.

“Don’t hide from your gods, my love. Let them see how I take you, how I make you all mine.” Aemond growled in her ear. Her eyes glazed over the faces of the Seven that looked down upon her, the figures of stone bearing witness to the dragon prince claiming his lady.

“Say it.” He demanded. “Say you’re mine.”

“I am yours, Aemond! I always have been!” The lady cried out, gripping his biceps to steady herself. His thrusts take on an animalistic pace as he speared her onto his cock, her head lolling back to rest on his shoulder. She was a babbling mess at this point, tears falling from her eyes as she struggled to keep them open.

It felt incredibly sacrilegious, being on her knees for her prince while her gods watched, yet the thought of them looking down at her in disdain only made her core squeeze Aemond’s cock tighter.

His hand took hold of the inside of her thigh, carefully flipping her onto her back while still1 keeping his cock inside her. He grips the meaty flesh of her thighs, spreading her wide as he pistoned into her. Continuing his brutal pace, Aemond reached to tug down the front of her gown to reveal her breasts, before leaning down to suck on her bud. This only served to increase her pleasure, now moaning unabashedly as she hurled faster towards her peak. A curtain of starlit tresses falls around her, her hand cradling his head and keeping him close to her as his other hand fondles her other breast.

When Aemond straightens up, he looks down to see a creamy ring around the base of his shaft. His eye stays on the sight of his cock thrusting in and out of her, mesmerized by how well her walls swallow him. His lady was a sight to behold. Her head was thrown back, eyes clenched shut as her jaw fell slack with moans freely falling out of her pink lips. Her chest was flushed as her tits bounced in tandem with the pace of his thrusts. Sweat beaded around her hairline as her hair fell like a halo around her head. Aemond may have lost his faith in a higher being, but his lady, the proof of what fine craftsmen the gods could be, was the only one worthy of his steadfast devotion.

She was approaching her end, and Aemond felt it too. He felt it in the way her walls made it almost impossible for him to move, making him grunt as the coil in his belly threatened to snap.

“Look at me. I want to see you when you cum.” He ordered. She struggled to keep her eyes open, even more so as his thrusts grew harder and harder. His name fell from her lips like a prayer, increasing in pitch as the warmth deep within her rose.

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Her prince reaches down to rub his thumb on her pearl, massaging quick circles that quickly prompt her release. The tide of her climax washed her over like warm water spilling on her flesh, spilling around his cock as he fucked her through. Aemond barely lasted a moment longer before shooting his seed into her womb, sweaty forehead falling onto her shoulder. A loud groan from his lips echoed through the sept, the sound almost akin to a dragon. They took a moment to catch their breath, staying in each other’s embrace as they basked in the afterglow of their passion. Her core continued to pulse around his softening cock, both of them hissing as he pulled out of her. Aemond took her face into his hands, kissing both her cheeks in reverence. He kissed her forehead, before capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

When he pulled away, he was met with her tearful gaze. A worried look overtook his features as a tear slid down the side of her face, wiping it in haste.

“What is the matter, my love? Are you in pain?” He asked in concern.

“I–” She hesitated. Her eyes look away from him, training on the wall. His discerning eye made her feel like he could see right through her, such was his power. She sniffled. “I am frightened.”

“Of me?” “No, never.” She clarified. Her hand on his chest comes up to his face, fingertips softly tracing his jaw. “I am scared of losing you, to this war… to a fate we cannot change.” The lady confided, voice breaking as she spoke. Aemond’s eye softened at her words. His hands around her cheeks caress her comfortingly.

“What makes you believe you will lose me, my darling?” He asks gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“They have taken you from me once, and now you are here. I am afraid they shall do so again.” She admitted, lips quivering as she spoke. The loss of her husband had shown her the gods do not hesitate in taking away something dear to her. They have done it before when they separated her from the man she thought she would marry, and they shall do it again. She knew of his uncle’s growing restlessness and thirst for vengeance. She knew he would be the one to face the Rogue Prince when the time came, and it left her frightened. With Aemond having returned to her arms, she fears of losing him, permanently– to violence, to madness. To have him so close to her only to be taken once more would be a cruel jest that would leave her in pieces. Aemond sighed, leaning his forehead against hers.

“You must not grieve for what has not come, my love. I am here with you now, and the gods would have to pry you from my cold, dead hands before they think they can take you away from me.” He promised, sealing his vow with a kiss upon her lips. Her arms wrap tight around his torso, pulling him flush to her chest. Aemond buries his face in her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her damp flesh.

“I love you, my dearest.” She whispers into his ear.

“And I love you.” He responds, planting another kiss on her forehead. “The gods can put us on separate ends of the world, but I shall find my way back to you, always.”

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond fic recs

90 notes · View notes

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 2 hours

Text

Inconceivable (Princess Bride AU)

Part I: A Kissing Story

Westeros has been at peace for nearly a year, and a wedding has been planned to celebrate the anniversary. King Jacaerys will marry his aunt, the only surviving child of the Greens, and unite both Targaryen bloodlines at last. It is a fairy tale ending, but this is no ordinary fairy tale...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x sister!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Jacaerys x reader

Warnings: Angst, grief, forced marriage

Point of View: Limited third person omniscient

Author's Note: Nothing like watching an old classic movie to revive the writing inspiration, huh?

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

Part I: A Kissing Story

“The princess was raised in a great castle along the coast of a glimmering sea. Her favorite pastimes were riding her dragon and tormenting her older brother. His name was…” Aemond. His name was Aemond, but she couldn’t say that. She had not said it in what felt like a lifetime. Not even to their mother.

His name was Aerion. But she never called him that. Nothing gave the princess as much pleasure as ordering Aerion around. ‘Lēkia, help me brush my hair!’ she would say.

Aerion would reply, “as you wish.’ It was all he ever said to her.

One day, the princess called him into her chambers before they were to attend a ball. When he entered, she was sitting at her vanity, a necklace of sapphires set in gold laid before her. ‘Lēkia, help me with my necklace. The clasp is quite tricky.’

The clasp was not tricky, but he put it around her neck anyway, his hands lingering on her neck as they gazed into each other’s eyes through the mirror. ‘As you wish,’ Aerion said.

That day, the princess was amazed to discover that when her brother said ‘As you wish,’ what he meant was this: ‘I love you.’ And even more amazing was that night when she realized she truly loved him back.”

“Is this a kissing story?” Young Aegon’s voice shattered the spell she’d been under like a pane of glass. The young prince – her nephew – was tucked into his bed as he recovered from a mild fever.

She laughed. The boy was becoming a man now if he no longer had a taste for ‘kissing stories.’ Once, he had loved them. “I’m sorry, Aegon. I can tell another if you would prefer?”

Aegon sighed. “No, I think I just want to sleep, muña.”

“Then I shall let you sleep, trēsy.” She did not let her disappointment show until she had left her nephew’s bedchamber. She needed to tell the story, for it was the only way she could keep it alive, the only way she could remember.

So, as she returned to her rooms and was readied for bed by servants she did not trust, she silently told the story to herself.

“Aerion asked the crown for permission to marry his sister, but before they could say their vows, war befell the kingdom, and he was sent away to battle to protect their family.

‘I fear I’ll never see you again,’ the princess cried as they said their farewells.

‘Of course you will,’ he assured.

‘But what if something happens to you?’

‘Hear this now: I will always come for you.’

Through her tears, the princess asked, ‘How can you be sure?’

Aerion smiled, ‘This is true love; you think it happens every day?’

His assurance gave the princess enough bravery to watch him mount his dragon and fly away. But Aerion did not return from battle. His dragon was attacked in the Gullet by his enemies and felled. When the princess got the news that he was murdered, she went into her rooms and shut the door and for days she neither slept nor ate, swearing she would never love again.

Two years later, King’s Landing was filled as never before to hear the announcement of the great King Jacaerys’ bride-to-be.

‘My people,’ Jacaerys said, ‘three months from now, our realm will celebrate a year since peace was at last declared. On that sundown, I shall marry my dear aunt, our princess, to reunite our family and signal an end to the strife that threatened to consume us.’

The people cheered so loudly that the princess thought she might be struck deaf. But she was not, forcing her to hear every moment of their adoration. Her emptiness consumed her.

Although the law of the land gave Jacaerys the right to choose his bride, the princess did not love him. He had fought in the battle where her true love had been killed, and every time she looked at him, all she could see was a vision of her brother as he and his dragon fell into the sea.

Despite Jacaerys’ reassurance that she would grow to love him, the only joy she found was in telling her story to her little niece and nephews – the only other remaining members of her family and the only ones who would not glean the longing in her voice. For if the king or his council ever learned that she still loved her brother…”

The door thumped shut as the last of the servants left. She let out a heavy sigh, at last feeling as though she could breathe again as she finished her story, whispered into her pillow.

“She would never be allowed to tell the story again.”

Hundreds of miles away, a weather-worn ship rocked lazily in the docks of Lys. Its crew was scattered within the city, enjoying its many pleasures.

All but the captain.

The man known and feared throughout the world as the Dread Pirate Symeon sat alone in his quarters, silent as death. He pored over a map of the Narrow Sea, but his eye was drawn again and again to a single mark – the small three-headed dragon along the coast of Westeros—King’s Landing.

He ran a finger gloved in black leather over the mark, tapping it twice as he again pondered the words that had echoed in his mind since he heard them.

“King Jacaerys has announced his intention to marry his aunt upon the anniversary of his taking the throne and restoring peace to Westeros.”

Symeon stood so quickly that his chair toppled over, one leg splintering on impact. He did not give it a second glance before strapping a sackful of gold to his belt and storming off the ship.

One of his sailors had the misfortune to be making his way drunkenly back to the ship when the captain pulled him aside. “The ship is Marlow’s now,” he said, naming his first mate. “You will tell no one that you have seen me, or I will return and slit your throat. Understood?”

The sailor nodded, his blood sluggish with drink and fear. The captain released him, and he nearly stumbled into the sea.

When he regained his balance and looked back down the dock, the Dread Pirate Symeon was gone.

45 notes · View notes