#aemond oneshot
Text
You Want This, You Need This
The only daughter of Rhaneyra Targaryen is firmly devoted to her mother's cause, and yet she finds her way through the passages of the Holdfast, to the bedchamber of a Prince she should hate // Main Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (daughter of Rhaenyra)
Warnings: 18+, smut, enemies with benefits, hate sex, degrading, angst, Targcest (uncle and niece)
Words: 3.7k
A/n: Me making a poll then doing whatever I want 🫶
There’s no use in waiting for sleep to come to her, she’s too restless for sleep.
Her bedroom is full of alcoves and adjacent chambers, good for hiding and keeping the room cool during the summers. In one of the alcoves is a mural. If she presses a particular space on the wall with much force, she can push it to reveal an entrance into the hidden passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast.
Light is lost beyond the threshold. A gentle but piercing breeze washes over her, through the thin and billowing fabric of her night shift. There’s always this lingering excitement when she opens the doorway. She equates it to the thrill of flying, cutting through the wind on dragonback. Only she’s not in the sky, she’s staring into darkness, daring herself to take a single step.
As children she and her brothers had found many of these hidden doors throughout the castle, the perfect sort of places to hide in when they were in trouble, the perfect place to eavesdrop and move through the keep undetected. When their mother found out she had discouraged them from venturing too far, lest they end up like the piles of bones left by rats and other rodents that had never found their way out.
The paths within the walls are treacherous, but she knows some of the routes by heart. She knows how to head down to the kitchens, she even knows a way which leads past the dungeons, to a chamber which houses the skull of Blaerion, the Black Dread, out to a beach along the shore of the bay, out of reach by any other means.
There is one particular room she has in mind tonight.
She treads carefully, tracing her fingertips against the wall so that she does not lose her way. When she comes to a series of steps she takes even more caution. She counts twenty steps, then turns another corner and keeps walking until the stone underneath her fingers turns to wood. It is a door, one which appears as part of a panelled wall on the other side. She pushes it open, hoping he has left the latch undone, and he has.
The room’s warmth is a welcome sensation. She makes as little noise as possible as she enters and closes the door behind her.
He’s sitting by the fire, turned away from where she stands, head lowered slightly and his silver hair spilling down the back of his chair. She almost always finds him like this, practising one of his self righteous rituals. He reads until the hearth and the candles have burned out because it enforces his own belief that he is a more dedicated son than Aegon, more intelligent and more worthy than the Velaryons– than her and her ilk.
His shoulders stiffen as the soles of her slippers tap delicately against the floor, moving towards his bed. She imagines him frowning, or perhaps smiling to himself as he closes the book in his lap.
She perches at the edge of the mattress, pushing her shoes off and letting them fall to the floor. “That was quite the display in the training yard this morning,” she says in a clear voice.
Everything he does is agonisingly slow. He grips the arms of his chair as he rises, slots the book back onto a shelf, and finally turns to face her. He is dressed in a simple black shirt and the breeches he usually sleeps in. His hair is half tied, his leather patch secured around his head, over the space where his left eye should be, sliced out by her own brother’s hand.
The low light of the hearth casts shadows in the sharp edges of his face, the lines around his mouth, the curve of his lips, proud but restrained. His remaining eye is trained on her, glaring at her like a hunter approaches prey.
“You were there to watch your brother, I thought,” he says in that softly threatening voice of his. He comes close enough to loom over her, though just far enough that their legs do not touch. “Or did you find your eye wandering?”
Jace’s first mistake had been to go down to the yard early. Aemond was always there in the mornings after flying Vhagar, to train with Ser Criston Cole until noon. His next mistake had been to succumb to Aemond’s goading. Their uncle is never one to use violence at first, not like Aegon who would brawl with a gull if he thought it offensive enough. Aemond likes to use his words to tease and probe, to lure an opponent to action, and Jace almost always falls for it. The moment her brother had challenged Aemond to a sparring match she knew what the outcome would be. Jace was a promising fighter, but he simply could not match Aemond’s height, strength, speed or skill.
Her heart sank for her brother, but it couldn’t force her attention away from Aemond. He moved like a dancer, all fluidity and control, like he already had the entire performance planned out in his head. He toyed with Jace, kept his defence up, only to knock his sword from his hands and place his own blade at his throat in a sudden flash of silver and steel.
She’d had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from smirking.
“You humiliated him, before spectators,” she says.
Aemond frowns in mock sympathy, taking her chin between his finger and his thumb to tilt her gaze up. “I would do it a hundred times over, for my own pleasure if not for anything else.”
She tilts her head. “And what of my pleasure?”
He hums cryptically. The corners of his mouth flicker upwards. “Your pleasure is only my concern within the confines of this room.”
He’s looking at her like that again, like he wants to devour her.
He traces his fingers down her throat, her collar, the neckline of her shift. His touch is sparse but familiar, exploring the curves of her body through the fabric, patterns she’s felt before, spaces he already knows and seems to have mapped in his head.
He leans in closer, his other hand pressing into the bed, invading her space, infiltrating her senses with the scent of smoke and lavender. She could drown in it, the scent of him.
She shudders as he runs his nose over her neck, following the heat of his breath with a lingering kiss against the sensitive spot of her skin. “What is it you want from me tonight?”
She has an idea in her mind, one she’s been toying with since she had seen the look of pride in his face in the yard.
“Lie down, on your back.”
He stands straight. Eye still fixed on her, he does as she says, making himself comfortable against the pillows.
She draws out every movement, just as he likes to do to her. She straddles him, settling her hips against the growing hardness in his breeches. She rests her hands against his chest, runs her fingers over his skin and the patch of silver hair revealed when she pulls on his shirt.
His hands are on her immediately, running up her thighs, gripping at her waist, bringing up the hem of her shift and tutting as though it has caused him some personal insult in hiding her body from him. He pulls it over her head and surges up to kiss her, capturing her lips with the desperation of a man starved. His kisses are always like this, slow and consuming, pulling her in closer and closer like he expects her to try to escape, like the only air he wants exists in her lungs.
It’s fast and overwhelming, and at first she’s content to just let it happen, to let herself be carried away in the currents of his wants and not her own, but once she’s a little more settled, she pushes him back against the bed.
He stares up at her, blood rushing to his cheeks, lips parted and panting. For all the times she’s seen his stoic exterior at court, she thinks he looks best like this.
“I thought you were concerning yourself with my pleasure?” she says, not bothering to contain her smile.
“I thought you liked it when I take what I want,” he retorts.
“I want you to do as you’re told.”
He huffs a laugh, but his gaze softens and his tongue wets his lips, his eye roaming appreciatively over her bare body, until he stops at her small clothes. All it takes is a few gentle rocks of her hips before his jaw tightens and his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of her waist. She swears she feels his hips twitch beneath her, but he makes no move to take what he wants.
She leans back on her haunches as she drags his breeches below his hips. By the sight of him, hard and reddened at the tip, she knows he at least finds something about this arrangement appealing.
She discards the rest of their clothing, his shirt, her small clothes, the leather eyepatch on his head. She pauses when she reaches for it, waiting for him to protest, but he doesn’t. He gives her a small nod and she slides it up to reveal the true extent of his scar, the twisted red flesh around the sapphire wedged in his socket.
She has seen it countless times before. She needs the reminder of who he is, how much he must hate her.
Now that they are both bare she resumes her position, pleasure like a flame licking up her spine as she traces circles over her centre. Aemond grinds himself against her, breathing with a strain in the back of his throat. The sound only makes the wanting feeling in her gut tighten. She can feel herself clenching over nothing, her body begging for more friction and the release it promises.
She feels she is wet enough to take him now, and her stomach drops in anticipation.
When he whispers her name, she knows she has him exactly where she wants him.
She closes her hand around his cock, giving it a few half-hearted strokes and lining it up to her entrance, only to hesitate. “I hear your mother is intending to invite Borros Baratheon to court,” she says.
Aemond catches his lip between his teeth, staring at the space where their bodies almost meet if she would only lower her hips.
“Might he bring one of his comely daughters? He has four, doesn’t he?”
Aemond huffs and meets her eye. His hands are still on her waist, his thumbs tracing circles over her belly. “Where did you hear this?”
She tries to pretend such a simple touch from him does not excite her or tempt her to relent.
Daemon has spies in the Queen’s household, not that she knows the specifics. Her mother had discussed the matter with her, expressing concern for the Hightowers’ intentions. It has been decades since a Lord of Storm’s End has stepped foot in the Red Keep, and Daemon believes their rivals are trying to close ranks, amass allies outside of the capital. Perhaps such a deal may be sealed with a marriage pact.
“What,” she breathes, trying to smile, “that his daughters are comely? I can only assume, for I’ve never met them you see–”
In the blink of an eye she’s beneath him.
Aemond brings a single finger to her lips. “I thought we had agreed not to discuss political matters in private,” he says.
“I did not realise the matter was political–”
He cuts her off when he snakes his hand down her body and pushes his thumb against her pearl. She hisses, her hips bucking to meet his touch.
“Are you trying to bait me, niece? Hmm? Is that what you came here for?”
She shakes her head as he circles over her. For such minimal effort on his part, it sparks something frustratingly bright in her, back arching, warmth settling between her legs and beneath her skin.
“Is that really what you want me to be thinking about? Wondering which one of the Baratheon girls is the prettiest?”
His fingertips tease over her entrance, but he doesn’t push them inside, instead they’re replaced by the head of his cock. She presses her lips together, determined not to make any kind of noise he could take for weakness, for wanting, but she feels it all the same.
“Presently, I’m only thinking about what I can see, and what I see is a spoiled little Princess, laid out beneath me. Poor thing, she’s trying to look smug, but I’m not sure I’m convinced, not when I’m about to fuck her tight, little cunt.”
Her pleading is mindless, falling from her lips as effortlessly as her breath. “Please… please… please…”
She wonders if it is her want or his own he eventually succumbs to. He pushes in slowly, delighted at the slight moan he elicits from her, sharing her air as she gasps at the pleasurable ache of being stretched out around him.
“I’ve heard rumours too, that Rhaenyra has been sending ravens to Highgarden,” he says as he starts to snap his hips against hers. “What business would your mother have with the Tyrells, I wonder?”
Rhaenyra has her own plans for a marriage pact, plans she’s known about for months. “What indeed?” she says, trying to smile as he ruts into her.
Aemond almost growls, burying his face into her neck. As his voice is harsher so are his thrusts. “My sister will sell you to a sickly little boy, is that it? Why would Rhaenyra want an alliance with the Reach?”
Because the King is little more than a breathing corpse and who knows how much life he has left in him. Because eventually, he will die, and they both know what will come next.
She’s always known her part in this, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her brothers may well fight in battles to defend their mother’s claim, but wars cannot be won without the necessary support. The Reach, The Riverlands, The Vale, The North, they must all be secured one way or another.
With his face hidden from hers she allows herself to admire the way his muscles move and flex under the smooth, pale skin of his arm. Since leaving childhood behind, he seems to have this idea of efficiency, with no tolerance for excess. His arms are slight, but defined where he trains with his sword each day, where he hauls himself onto Vhagar’s saddle and steers her around Blackwater Bay.
“It’s always been expected of me,” she says, tracing her hand over his skin, almost perfect, save for a few marks: a burn after an unfortunate encounter with Vermax when he was just a hatchling, a scar above his elbow where he fell from an apple tree, and crescent shaped indents from their last tryst. “I will do my duty.”
“Duty?” He stops, grabbing her by the neck so her breath hitches in her throat. He leans into her, pressing his forehead against hers, caging her between his body and the bed. She sees nothing but a single eye and a sapphire, nothing but contempt. “You’re the antithesis of it, crawling to your uncle’s bedchamber every night, begging to be fucked.”
Anger flares in her blood. She clamps her hand around his wrist and digs her nails into his skin, hoping it will mark him. “I have never begged for you,” she spits, teeth bared, lips grazing over his, “and I never shall…”
Her words fade on her tongue when he resumes a punishing pace, urging her closer to oblivion with every thrust.
“Oh there you go,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?” He’s on his knees now, one hand still on her throat, the other on her thigh, forcing her legs further apart, fingertips pressing painfully into her flesh.
She tries to pull away from his grip, pushing herself further into the bed amongst the pillows, but Aemond has always been stubborn and does not relent. She has nowhere to go, no other option but to take it.
“You’ll be sent off to some castle in a miserable corner of the world, live the dull life of a Lady. Your Lord husband will trade swords and shields for you like a brood mare and fuck his children into your belly each night.”
She feels her peak building within her, the weightlessness rising and rising, she can hardly take much more. “Do you believe I will think of you?” she says with a grin, “as he touches me, as he spills inside me…”
Aemond grunts, folding his chest over hers, brushing his lips over her cheek as he hisses, “wanton little whore. I am the one you seek out, and as long as you do, you are mine.”
It tears through her quickly, a spark that turns to flame, a piece of kindling caught alight, pleasure that reduces her simply to feeling, warmth and the absence of his weight on her body. She claws her nails into nothing, empty space where she expects to find his skin.
Aemond has pulled away from her, groaning as he comes, spilling over her stomach and thighs. She watches him, jaw slack, brows angled like he’s in agony.
She basks in the numbness her peak leaves behind as he drags his shirt over her skin to clean the mess he’s made with a touch that is soft and slow. His eye trails along her body to her face. She sees nothing in him, not amusement or satisfaction, not hatred or remorse, and yet he comes to lay beside her, turning her onto her side, settling against her back and putting his arms around her.
She allows it, too used to the feeling of lying in his bed, too used to the scent of sweat and smoke and lavender.
Aemond’s chambers are ruled by order, every book has its place on a shelf, he does not leave papers, clothes or used cups of wine lying around. The bedchamber lies on the south side of the castle, with a balcony overlooking the bay where two of them used to watch the ships leaving the harbour. She likes the intricate tapestries, scenes of Valryian mythology, and his fondness for the colour blue. Even if she cannot see most of it in the dark of night, the silence and stillness is comforting.
“Lord Corlys’ ship was attacked,” she mutters, placing her hand over his, where his palm against her stomach. “We cannot be sure if he even survived.”
“So I’ve heard,” Aemond says, “I’ve also heard Vaemond Velaryon intends to challenge the succession of Driftmark, should the unthinkable be true.
“And I assume the Queen and the Hand will support him in this endeavour.”
Aemond’s chest stills. “They will hear the petitions and pass their judgement,” he says, quietly but finally.
“Then the decision has already been made.”
Aemond’s breathing is deep, her hair fluttering against her cheek as he exhales. Her mother has a similar way of scolding her without uttering a single word, as if to say the answer should be obvious.
With a scoff she pushes his hand away and drags herself out of the bed. The cold air stings her skin and she makes short work of finding her night shift, discarded on the floor, and dressing herself.
“Lucerys has no claim to Driftmark,” Aemond says from the bed.
“And why is that?” she says shortly, grabbing her shoes from the foot of the bed.
He won’t say it, but the word is there, in the way he teases Jace, the way his family watch her and her brothers and stare at them across the throne room with nothing but disgust. It’s there in his indifference towards her beyond the walls of his bedchamber, avoiding eye contact, muttering under his breath, insults and backhanded compliments. But the last time he said it, it cost him his eye.
She turns to face him, a defiant glare through the darkness now that some of the candles have started to burn out.
“Coward,” she whispers.
He does claim to disagree.
With her shoes on, she moves towards the hidden door without sparing him another glance.
But she hears a ruffle of fabric, his feet against the floor as he follows her. His hand closes around her arm, hard enough it feels as though it might leave a bruise. He turns her into him, placing her back and his palm against the panelled wall.
“Stay,” he says.
“Surely you would not want to sully yourself, sharing your bed with a bastard.”
“But it’s different with you.”
“How? How is it different?”
He cups her face in his hands, begging her for something but never saying it. He leans in gradually, kissing her firmly. It’s easy to follow his lead, to let him slip his tongue between her lips, let him pull and tug at her delicate flesh, to feel him and lose herself to him. It makes her weightless all over again.
Once it was easy to love Aemond. They found friendship easily as children, even when they bickered and argued, because they could always forgive each other.
Some time ago she realised that love has always been destined to fade away, like summer changing into autumn, winter snows melting away with the spring. There is no place for it amongst the animosity between their families, causes they were born to, that neither of them will ever forsake.
Aemond pulls away but stays close to her, a hand on her waist, the other on her cheek. “I want you to stay.”
“And what then? What do you think could ever become of us?” The one-eyed Prince and the bastard Princess.
Suddenly she hates the stillness of this room, the weight of his silence in her chest.
Aemond’s hand slips from her cheek, his expression falling from pleading to indifference.
She leaves him standing there, bare chested and breathless, with no light to catch in the cut edges of his sapphire. She fades back into the shadows of the passageway, amongst the cold and the dark and the bones.
The rot has set in. The King will die, and both the Blacks and the Greens will seek to claim his throne. The empty space between her and Aemond can only ever grow.
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#my fics#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen oneshot#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x ofc#hotd#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd fanfiction#smut#aemond fanfiction#aemond fanfic#aemond oneshot#aemond one eye#enemies to lovers#enemies with benefits
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I love your writing!! Could you do a short 1 or 2 part fiction based on this prompt: a highborn girl is to become Aemond's wife but she is a mute. Her other senses are well even though she isn't able to speak. She is youngest in her family and is extremely shy. No fiery bone in her body. Alicent coaxes her son into being betrothed to her due to Alicent having issues with high-born ladies not wanting to marry the prince due to his eye missing and his tendency to have a temper. They bond over reading and Aemond is enthralled with her beauty. Also Aemond never is a kinslayer in this story lol. Thank you!
Her Voice
Summary: You are introduced with the prince as his second option for a marriage in your family. But how will the Prince react to you own affliction | Mini-Series Masterlist
Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist
A/N: I changed the request up a little and it's strange that I got this ask because I do actually have a stutter myself that was debilitating growing up, so I tried to shoehorn some feelings that I felt myself into this character, but hopefully I still did it justice (and I made it more about her intelligence cos I think Aemond would find that hot)?
Thank you for the request anon! Also thank you all for your love and comments I really love them! I can’t comment on them since this is a side-blog, but I appreciate you all!
Warnings: none, just fluff, Aegon being Aegon
"Do you think that any highborn woman with a brain between her eyes would desire to spend the rest of her life with a tempestuous prince?"
Alicent was circling the room, hands smoothing over one another to keep herself calm, doing this in exchange of picking at her fingernails, which her father hated. And with Otto sat brooding in the corner of the room, Alicent chose her actions wisely.
Aemond barely resisted the urge to roll his eye, one hand rested on one side of his face, disinterested. Another reprimand for his temper, his behaviour. He didn't realise his mother had it in her to keep on doing this for so long, especially after having a son like Aegon. But even then, her solution had been to marry him to his sister, and it was clear how well that ended. And how Aegon's actions persisted.
"Perhaps if they were not so empty-headed they would know to leave me be"
"Like it or not, you will be wed" Otto butted in, resulting in Aemond sending an annoyed glare, "It has been difficult enough to introduce ladies to you"
"Because they think me a monster" Aemond retorted, one hand gripping the arm of the chair beside him. His mother was still pacing around, a million thoughts banging around in her brain, working endlessly on how to resolve this. In truth, he did not enjoy seeing his mother in such distress and his heart to see her in this way more often than not.
"That is not true, Aemond" Alicent's voice was soft, as if he were still a child.
"True enough that it whispers through the court"
"A marriage and children with her would mean security in the Reach" Otto said simply. His mind forever focussed on matters political and never of the heart. Alicent was proof of this and at this quip, Aemond could see the discomfort it bought her.
"I do not wish to marry that loud-mouthed half-wit"
Every time Aemond protested, he could see his mother begin pacing around the room once more.
"At this rate, half the ladies in Westeros will have met that beast before you"
Aemond extended a hand out with a sigh, "It is no fault of mine that she is scared of Vhagar"
"It nearly landed on top of her, Aemond!" Alicent begged out and Aemond genuinely had to hold back a smile as he imagined Vhagar pinning the girls dress to the ground with her large claw. It had scared the girl stiff and her loud-mouthed was quickly stiffened from the presence of the largest dragon in the world before her. Her face pale as a sheet.
"Vhagar did not like her" he simply responded.
A moment passed in silence and Aemond nearly stood to leave when Alicent crossed her arms, her warm, brown eyes trained at her second son. Half in pride and half in scolding.
"There is of course, another choice" Alicent suggested quietly, taking a side glance at her father.
Now stood before his mother, seeing over her easily, he placed his arms behind his back, a brow was arched in not only question but anxiety at her suggestion.
"She has a younger sister, only half a year younger than you"
Aemond scoffed, "This is desperation"
"It is a suggestion" Alicent corrected. In front of her son, she seemed so small as she took his large hand in both of hers, her rings clicking together to rub her fingers over his skin, "See how you feel"
With a sigh, he took his leave.
There was no harm in trying.
The days seemed to pass the slowest and the Prince busied himself as he usually did, performing his duties. He trained with Ser Criston, he read books on various subjects and he rode on Vhagar in an attempt to tame this temper his mother so wanted gone. One that she thought would be solved by marriage.
But one insufferable thing he could never escape from, was court gossip.
It seemed so rampant and neverending that he wondered if the ladies ever did anything else.
On more than one occasion he heard the ladies talk in hushed whispers when he walked by.
"I heard his dragon almost ate her"
"I do not see what woman would want a man who looks like that"
"I think he looks rather handsome with it"
"Yes, but he has a quarrelsome temper. Blood of the dragon indeed"
"I heard her little sister is to join the court. His dragon may actually swallow her whole with any luck"
"She is a hollow little fool. I heard she has not spoken a word since she was a babe"
He knew better than to listen to any of it. But it seemed to impregnate the walls of the Keep, like a smell that won't go away. Slowly seeping out of the stone to skulk in heavy plunders of smoke across their feet. It smelled of deception and the feeling was so heavy, it was almost liquid.
Like oily blood.
He had barely paid attention to his mother as they all lined up outside the Keep, anticipating the sister's arrival. The older sister had been closest to the dirt road, wanting to see her siblings and father before anyone else. The Royals were all standing shoulder to shoulder at the top of the stone steps, Aemond's eye trained forwards, not focussed on anything in particular. Aegon wishing he were somewhere else, preferably at the end of a barrel of Dornish wine. And Helaena, whose gaze never found anyone's, staring at the ground, watching the ants disappear beneath her slipper.
Alicent almost jumped out of her skin as the lady screamed in delight seeing the familiar colours of her house on the side of the carriage, pulling up to a stop. Aemond's chest inflated and he tightened his grip behind his back, bracing for the undoubtedly emotionally painful exchange he was about to have.
The carriage door flung open and two brothers emerged, clearly a lot older than the sister had been, but nonetheless they scooped her up into a hug. Aemond raised an eyebrow and dared look over at his own brother, who was smiling back at him already, as if suggesting they should hug like that. And at this Aemond did roll his eye.
The three siblings were stuck like this for a moment, talking over and amongst each other like a clutter of turkeys and it was impossible to tell what they were actually saying. The father eventually found his footing outside the carriage, a small figure following small behind him, head lowered. The older sister wrapped her arms around her father's neck but she was quickly pushed away, and not a single one of them seemed to address the youngest, who blindly followed her father.
"Queen Alicent" the father addressed, taking her hand in his to kiss at the ring.
"My Lord, how nice it is to see you and your…family again" she swallowed her words and her roundabout manner made Aegon smile somewhat.
"And you, your Grace. I hope my daughter has been a grateful guest"
There was a faint echo in the background of her horrific laugh, the father closed his eyes slowly, bracing himself for the sound of it.
Alicent merely smiled, "I understand we are to receive your other daughter"
The father stepped aside, but the figure still remained relatively hidden, "Yes, although she is the slowest of my daughters, your Grace. She…finds it difficult to speak"
The father looked behind him again and gripped his other daughter's arm and Aemond noted how hard he held her, so much so that when he tore away the marks remained. And he wondered if he was so rough with his other daughter, the one he thought was the grace of his house.
The girl was presented before Alicent. Yes she shared features with her sister, but hers were much were smoothed out. Her sister, while sharp featured and cheeks plump, her eyes were too close together and her nose seemed unfit for her face. This sister however, her cheekbones were higher and eyes were almond-shaped and she had a faint mole next to her eye on one side.
Her eyes briefly met Alicent's and sent a small smile and a curtsy, doing the same to the Princes and Princess, but never really meeting any of their gazes directly.
"Your Grace, my youngest"
Aemond almost scoffed, he didn't even have the decency to address her by her birth name.
"As I say, your Grace, she is quite slow but her mind is nimble, her other senses remain…unaffected"
All the young woman could do was listen to her father's cruel words about her, her hands were clasped in front of her, one finger fiddling with a golden ring that was on a forefinger. Aemond's gaze raked over her form, the dress she wore just being a bit too tight and he wondered if it might have been in her ownership for a while and had grown too big for it. This made her chest swell against the fabric and her could not help but admire the way she fit into it as she inhaled and exhaled, the golden necklace against her chest moving as well.
It was as if she could feel his burning eye on her and her hand raised to her necklace to turn the pendant over, her gaze briefly meeting the one-eyed Prince's before her cheeks became flushed and averted instantly. In a strange turn of events, it made Aemond smirk, knowing that someone would blush in his presence.
"If you'd like to follow me, I can introduce you to the King" Alicent stepped side to side with her father, "Perhaps your children might amuse themselves"
Her father turned to face his children, a haggard expression on his face, "Make yourselves scarce"
The young woman merely watched as her siblings waltzed away without her, no doubt to drown themselves in drink. And she stood for a moment watching them enjoy themselves before feeling a hand grasp her elbow to find Aegon's face close to hers. She made a surprised sound.
"Extraordinary" he murmured, pulling the poor thing to walk with him, "How much I would give to have a woman who did not speak back"
She attempts to push herself away, but he was much stronger.
"I bet that mouth is as disgusting as those whores on the Street of Silk"
A hand clamped at Aegon's shoulder, shoving him away and the woman looked back to find Aemond parting the two with his body, a hand brushing against her arm to place her behind him.
"Brother, I do not think she desires your company"
With a focussed eye zoned in on his brother, Aemond failed to notice that she had himself wrapped his hand around her wrist. A wave of heat rose to her face s she looked down and saw how his large fingers easily took her, feeling the sheer body heat of the Prince next to her, so much so that she was able to smell the various musks that had attached themselves to him. A faint smell of leather from his clothes, whatever he used for his long, illustrious hair and then something akin to being around an animal. Was this what dragon smelled like? She wondered if he had been riding before meeting her family.
His touch was easily softer than Aegon's grip had been, and for this she was grateful. He had been the first man to lay a hand on her that had not been forceful. The brothers continued to bicker.
"She is not deaf, Aegon. She can hear you"
"Deaf or not, she is a simpleton. If you are to marry her, do yourself a favour and find comfort in others, as I do"
All the blood seemed to rush to your ears in embarrassment and you tore your wrist away from the prince, turning swiftly on your heel in the other direction, away from the harsh words you had unfortunately become accustomed to. Your steps were swift as you heard Aegon cackle with laughter, but you did not see Aemond's saddened stare bore into your back.
With a book clutched longingly to your chest and the echoes of your already drunken siblings echoing down the halls, you pushed a hand to the library door, finding comfort in the quiet of this room in the chaos that was the Red Keep.
It had of course, not been your first time here. You had accompanied your sister on her journey many moons ago, and even then you felt the stares of those at the court boring into you like a flame. The hushed whispers of those were not lost on you, perhaps they also thought you were deaf. But it didn’t matter. You heard the horrible things the ladies said about you and equally, the awful things the men said as well. Although some of those had been about other matters.
Contrary to popular belief, you were not entirely mute. A lot of it was purely by choice. And you had become accustomed to the silence, for simply trying to speak, becoming out of breath and tight about the chest, gave you more anxiety than simply saying nothing at all.
You sighed in relief, finding the library completely empty and almost just how you had left it all those months ago, when you had come here for relief after your sister had accustomed herself to the ladies.
The book, which you had been in the middle of reading last time you were here, was still perched on top of the fireplace in the heart of the room, with a piece of paper sticking out in the spot where you had been rudely torn away. Your hand grazed over the cover, feeling all the intricacies of the people who may have read it before you. The spine was slightly worn away, and the fabric that coated the front page was discoloured. But it was the book smell that enticed you so and you opened where you were to bring to the pages to your face.
It smelled like home. Like a solitary childhood.
It reminded you of who you were.
Someone so disenchanted with life that they would lose themselves in books, fiction or not.
You lifted your skirts, inhaling sharply as the corseted part of the gown dug into you for being too small. Your father refused the request for new dresses, so you had to make do. After all, it was your older sister who was supposed to be enamouring the Prince, not you. So what need was there for fine dresses.
The chair hugged you, its fabric arms tucking you in like a bed and you laid the book before you to pick up where you had left off, the only sound in the room being the flickering of some candles and the uncomfortable sound of your finger tracing the next page.
You had been so interested in your book, the large oak doors opened without a reaction from you.
"I know you are not deaf, my Lady"
The voice startled you, and your head popped round the back of the chair to see the Prince standing closely, smirking and arms tucked behind him. A surprised sound left you as you stood, the book that had been placed on your lap hurtling to the floor as well as a small notebook you had been clutching. Your cursed yourself for the clumsiness but offered him a curtsy all the same before bending to retrieve the books.
He seemed to move too quickly for his stature and had his hand flat on the book before you had even reached out. Turning it over he smiled, bringing the book with him stand,
"Ah, so it was you"
You grasped the small notebook in your hand and stood to meet his gaze, eyes slightly wide with fear. As if he had caught you in his grasp.
He let out a small laugh, which seemed uncharacteristic for him, "Do not worry. I merely found it"
He placed the book down on the table and looked back at her. Even though he had one eye, it seemed to rake over her for an eternity before returning to her face.
"Are you afraid, my Lady?" he asked, still smirking.
Realising that she had been gawking, gripping onto her notebook, she shook her head. He seemed satisfied with the answer, only offering a 'Hm' in response as he began pacing the space around her.
"I may have limited vision, but I can see you are not afraid of me"
His back was facing you now, and with his eye not trained on you, you took the opportunity to study him and his form for a moment.
He was tall and his long silver hair trailed over his back, thick and straight. He certainly had that air of intimidation behind him and seemed to dress as such to scare people. In thick black leather with clasps, he almost looked imprisoned in his own clothes, straining against them. All this study of his form made you look down at yourself, wondering what he thought of you. The small woman without a voice, dressed in the clothes she was made several years ago.
"Your sister says I have a temper" he started, turning slowly to meet your gaze. He studied the way the candles flickered washes of amber and yellowish hues onto the side of your face, bringing the flush of your face out even more. How the flames bounced off the colour of your eyes. He wondered; how could someone be so expressive with simply their gaze.
He could not explain it, but you seemed content in the silence between you.
Slowly, as if movement would trigger the man, you opened the small notebook you carried with you, using the strip of charcoal to scribble something down. Aemond smirked seeing how concentrated you looked staring at the pages, how the line in between your eyebrows popped out slightly as you wrote.
You passed him the notebook, pointing at the page. He handled the book with such care that is astonished you, the way his fingers grasped it, there was a sensitivity to it. You swallowed your breath as his eye ran over the page all too slowly.
I do not know you well, but I have seen no temper.
Without moving an inch, his eye met you again and for a moment you worried you had said something wrong. But he softly handed the notebook back to you, watching your every move.
"Is this how you communicate?" he asked genuinely.
You nodded, as if embarrassed. Thinking of something to write down, you quickly flipped to a new page.
He accepted the notebook again once you had done, looking significantly more nervous this time, the charcoal rubbing black on your fingers.
I hope that the suggestion of our marriage does not embarrass you. If it is to be, I will be an amenable wife.
Aemond read the words on the page a few times, each time saddening him more so than the last. He saw how you fumbled with the charcoal, eyes averted, afraid of his reaction. He sighed so quietly that you did not hear it and only looked up once again when he handed the notebook back to you.
The words seemed to sincere, it bought a pain to his heart to see you think such things.
"Do not reduce yourself to such a thing" he said. But you did not look up.
There was a pregnant pause between you both as he regarded you.
"You are not entirely mute, are you"
You shook your head at his question, he winced at the painful look on your face. Immediately scribbling something down, faster this time.
It is sometimes better not to say anything at all.
Aemond nodded at this, "It is good advice, perhaps it can be bestowed on some within the court"
At this genuinely unexpected quip, you looked up at him letting a laugh escape you, hand immediately coming to your face to hide the smile that bubbled there.
It surprised you how quickly his eyes lit up upon hearing your voice. You could not help but look at him as he smiled before you, your cheeks firing up with embarrassment and you cleared your throat almost immediately, trying to dispel the air.
"You have a lovely voice" he said. It was here that you realised you were still smiling, eyes on his face, trying to find any signs of deception. For a second, you opened your mouth, tempted to say something. But the confidence quickly died as a block constricted your throat and the breath was expelled, but you nodded anyway, in thanks.
Do you read?
He nodded, gesturing to the book you had been reading, now reserved to the side table, all but forgotten.
"I do. I come here often" he said quietly, pacing about again.
You could no longer hide the way you looked at him. Your sister had said he was quick to rise and that she had been scared stiff at the interactions with him, that he had given her no notion of acceptance or equality. She spoke like he thought he was above everyone else.
But this was not the person you saw before you. Before you was some so soft spoken, you could barely hear him most of the time. Someone who enjoyed the serenity of a quiet library with the only sound being the flickering of the candles and the rain hitting the stone walls outside. You envisioned him being the only one to people-watch at parties, not amusing himself with the prospect of dancing. And perhaps not entertaining the thought of speaking to a woman directly.
"I come here when people like your sister remark on my tempestuous nature. Solitude is the only remedy for it" he paused looking over at you, "I imagine it is the same for you"
You scribbled something down, meeting his gaze when you handed it over.
Perhaps it is just that we are misunderstood. Solitude offers comfort.
A smile tugged at his lips once more and he thought that this is the most he had smiled in a long time.
"And books, it seems"
You nod genuinely, your eyes lighting up with an idea. Placing the notebook to one side, you rush past the Prince, giving him an opportune moment to feel the fabric of your skirts pass his thigh and the whips of your hair drag across the leather of his arm, releasing their scent. And with his eyes closed, he relished in these perfumes.
He allowed himself to think about what it would be like to live in that scent. To have it around him.
You placed a book in his hand, looking up at him excitedly. His long fingers grazed over the cover, admiring the gold leaf applied to it.
"Is this your favourite?" he asked, noting how close you remained after placing the book in his hand, though this you had not realised yet. You nodded, smiling as he opened the cover page to inspect the contents. A book he had not read.
He squinted at the pages, confused and looked back at you, barely needing to move his head since he was so tall.
"You can read this?" he asked. Ever humble, you shrugged your shoulders, "This is Valyrian" he sounded almost as if he did not believe you.
But you had read enough books for a lifetime already and you intended to prove to the Prince that what you were implying was truth.
Taking a deep breath, you lean forward and point to a word in Valyrian, inspecting the swirling text upside down. It had been a page right in the middle, telling the history of Aegon the Conqueror's mission to the Riverlands.
"…i-istan…hae…" you took another breath, not meeting the Prince's eye, nervous that if you did all confidence would surely die, "…darys…"
"…dārys" Aemond softly corrected. You could not help but look up at him now, the eye that had been filled with mischief and confidence, now had something else there. You licked your lips and motioned for him to repeat what he has said so you might copy, "dārys…"
"…dārys…h-he….he…" you struggled on the 'h' sounds of the next words, so paused to gather your breath and push past the newly developing blocks. But the Prince waited patiently, more enamoured at the fact that you were attempting to speak before him and that this was possibly the most you had said to anyone in months, perhaps years.
The mere sound of your own voice surprised you, but concentrated on finishing the sentence, you licked your lips once again in concentration. Aemond almost laughed as the line between your eyebrows returned, "…hen ry…vest, vesteros…o-o…" you sighed at yourself, frustrated. The words beginning with vowels were always the hardest.
"…ondoso…" you managed, pushing past the breath quickly and it was the loudest word you spoke in the whole sentence. It felt clumsy and wrong, but if you had looked ahead, you would have seen the hooded look of Aemond looking down at you, mouthing along with you in silent appreciation.
"…rhaenys…" you finished, looking up at the prince. He closed the book and repeated the word back at you but with the trilled 'r' that was difficult for many to pronounce. You smiled, fiddling with your hair, only now realising how close you were to him so you were able to read the book.
You stepped back, suddenly feeling embarrassed and hot. As if you'd been caught doing something you shouldn’t.
"Very good" he said. The smile on your face was difficult to keep at bay and he placed the book to one side, "It is not an easy language to learn. From books?" he asked, to which you nodded.
You were grateful he did not mention anything about your slowness, about the stumbling over the words. He simply complimented your ability to even read and speak any Valyrian and that was all you wanted from him.
You scribbled down.
Perhaps you could teach me how to pronounce it properly.
"I would enjoy that, my Lady" he stepped forward to give you the notebook back, only to keep a hold on it when you tried to take it. His other hand laid on top of hers and all of a sudden, it all felt so real.
You could feel his fingers rub over yours with a strangely soft touch and all the heat rose to your face again.
"It is a brave thing, to show yourself to someone" he said, looking down at you, "Someday, I hope to do the same for you" he said quietly.
You flicked from one of his eyes to his eyepatch, knowing that this was the source of his own pain. All the things the ladies and your sister had said about this man. Saying he was monstrous, tempestuous and someone to fear. It was clear that these people just did not know him.
"Being with you is like being alone" he said quietly, almost to say it to himself.
Your other hand came to his arm, hand smoothing over the soft leather, reaching out to touch him to see if he was real. Your smaller hands barely came around his arm but you squeezed it, offering whatever comfort you could.
At his words, you nodded in agreement, and he could see the sincerity in your eyes. Perhaps he merely wanted to be understood, like everyone would like, but something that people like yourselves was difficult to find.
Dropping the notebook, the charcoal fell to the ground and snapped in two and before Aemond could open his mouth to question, you laid your head against his chest, hearing and feeling his heartbeat through the thick leathers.
He stood stock still for a moment, hands suspended in the warm air around you until he carefully laid them on your shoulders, pulling the hair over your shoulder. And for a moment he could not tell if he was greatly confused, shocked, horrified or comforted by the feeling.
A shudder rattled down your back as you felt his chin rest on top of your head.
"Kirimvose" he whispered, making a burst of air leave you with a laugh. It sounded mildly forced, and it warmed your chest in a way that bloomed across your whole body, knowing now that despite his discomfort, he had said it.
Thank you.
#aemond fic#aemond one eye#prince aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond fluff#aemond stannies#hotd fluff#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotd aemond#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x reader#aemond imagine#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond oneshot#aemond drabble#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon fic#house of the dragon
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Why am i ready for stalker aemond that has slow burn and is super angsty? like someone who isnt afraid of his scar in preschool then moves away but he found her in either social media or a sports meet and started stalking from then on and then he goes to the same college and remembers her schedule, which dorm shes in and trying to get in her room at night or is in the dorm across from her and ugh i could start a fic tbh
Never Ending Obsession -Aemond T.
If you do start a Fic, 100% tag me in that sh*t! I would LOVE to read it, but because you sent it to me imma give it a go for you cause it sounds delicious! I hope it is everything you want it to be!
Yandere!Aemond. Major Stalking! You’ve Been Warned!
DD:DNE
Aemond considered Y/n to be a miracle from the day he met her.
It was the first day of Pre-School and he wanted to be anywhere but there, surrounded by other students. He wanted to be at home with his mother, or even his big brother, anyone just to get away from the staring children.
Aemond had learned almost as soon as his cousin had sliced his face open that while adults would stare, they would at least be discreet about it, children were not. Aemond, while being a child, didn’t consider himself one, and it was something most adults found amusing as he would much rather spend time with his mother or the adults in his family than with his siblings or cousins. He would rather read than play with toys, rather watch movies his mother liked than ones his siblings enjoyed, it’s just the way Aemond had always been…until her.
All of the children stared at him from the moment he walked in and said “goodbye” to his mother. The staff tried to direct the children away, told them it was rude to stare, but they weren’t always paying attention and trying to get a bunch of 4 year olds attention when they’re locked onto something is…difficult at best. Around lunch time the staff had left all but one in the room to prepare food for the kids and suddenly Aemond found a boy much larger than him to be holding his eyepatch in his hand, the children around him laughing and teasing immediately. The teacher was on the other side of the room and oblivious as Aemond tried to grab his eyepatch back, the other boy shoving him to the ground before he was suddenly laying right beside Aemond holding his crotch and wailing in pain. A blonde girl that Aemond could only describe as beautiful was standing above him with an angry look on her face.
‘What did he ever do to you?! Huh?! Leave Him Alone!’ She snatched the eyepatch from the portly child’s hand and moved to hand it back to Aemond who strapped it back on immediately. ‘Are you okay?’ Aemond nodded quickly, opening his mouth to speak but finding no words that would come out. ‘I’m Y/n, you’re Aemond, right?’ He nodded again, mouth hanging open dumbly and looking like an idiot he is sure. ‘I’m sorry he did that, No one should be mean like that for something you can’t help and you don’t have to tell no one nothing…I’m sorry, you want to be alone.’ She turned to walk away when he finally got his voice box to work…sadly it had been muted so long that the sound he finally made was a bit too loud.
‘NO!’ He exclaimed and she jumped, turning back to him instantly. ‘I’m sorry…I mean, no, I don’t want to be alone…it’s nice to meet you Y/n…do you want to sit with me for lunch?’ She smiled, a red tint to her cheeks and Aemond decided he absolutely adored her pretty smile.
‘Yeah…that sounds fun.’ She grabbed ahold of his hand and pulled him over to a table, handing him a place mat and some crayons to decorate it with. Coloring was never something Aemond had really enjoyed, Art wasn’t his thing, but if Y/n enjoyed it then so did he.
Aemond and Y/n spent the rest of the day together before pick-up and as soon as he said “good-bye”, leaving with his mothers driver and climbed into the car beside his mom, he was talking about her. Alicent was thrilled that her son had made a friend his own age, while it’s entertaining to see her 4 year old boy so grown-up and mature, she didn’t want him to miss out on being a child just because he didn’t have any friends.
At the end of the week, after learning that Aemond and Y/n’s friendship wasn’t going anywhere, Alicent stood outside to pick her son up rather than wait in the car for their driver to get him. She watched her son run outside, hand in hand with a girl a bit shorter than him and they looked truly adorable. ‘Mom!’ Her son exclaimed, excited to see her waiting for him herself and deciding she should do this more often to see that smile so rare on her baby’s face.
‘Hello, my sweet Little Dragon! How was your day?’ She asked, watching the girl run to a women a few feet away and take her hand.
‘It was so good! Y/n and I made pictures of our families for the wall-wait! You need to meet her! Y/n!’ Aemond exclaimed, the girl stopping and her mother looking back as well, slightly irritated. ‘Mom, this is Y/n, she’s my best friend!’ He grinned and so did Y/n who hugged him at that deceleration.
‘Well, if she’s your best friend then you must have her over for a play date. Would that be alright?’ She asked the girls mom.
‘Oh, yes, of course. Anytime.’ She spoke, writing down her number on a piece of paper. ‘I’m Marie, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n talks about your boy all the time.’
‘Mom!’ The girl whined, the mothers sharing a side smile at their kids evident first crush on each other.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Alicent. How about tomorrow? She can come by and spend the day with us, I’ll drop her at home after dinner?’ Her mom looked surprised.
‘That’s perfect actually, I have work all day. Text me your address and what time to drop her off, she will love spending the day with Aemond rather than the neighbor. I’m sorry to say I’m in a rush to get back to work, it was nice meeting you Alicent, and you too Aemond. Come on Y/n, let go.’
‘Bye Aemond!’ Y/n waved, her mother dragging her off. She didn’t strike Alicent as rude, just in a bit of a hurry. You could clearly see the difference in their status in life, if not just from the fact that Y/n’s mother was wearing a waitress uniform and Alicent was wearing a Versace dress and Gucci shoes. She finds herself wondering how the women pays for the fancy daycare at all.
Alicent had married rich, Viserys happy to give her anything she wants as long as she doesn’t bother him at work, and he’s always at work. When he’s not however he is spending time with his daughter from his first marriage, Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra is 24 now, Viserys being significantly older than Alicent but she didn’t mind, he was a good, gentle man and that was hard to come by now a days. She had 2 sons, Jace who was 5 and Luke who was 3 (a child she detested for being the one who had sliced her baby’s face open 6 months before as he ran around the mansion with an old dagger from Viserys’ office and didn’t pay attention to her son sitting on the ground), though Rhaenyra was also pregnant with another child, none of which are her husbands clearly but that’s not her business… Alicent has 3 children of her own, Aegon who was 7, Helaena who was 5 and Aemond who had just turned 4, though she also suspected she was carrying a child that she hoped was a girl if not just to keep another boy from the chaos and bullying that goes on between the siblings and cousins.
‘Y/n is gonna spend the whole day with me?!’ Aemond suddenly exclaimed, knocking his mother from her thoughts.
‘Yes, she is. You’ll need to plan what you two want to do for the day and I’ll make sure Aegon doesn’t disturb you.’
‘Jace and Luke either?’ He asked…begged is more like.
‘Jace and Luke either, I’ll make sure they have something to do when they come tomorrow.’ The family always came to the house on the weekends as Viserys took that time for his family…part of it anyway.
‘Yay! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!’ Alicent was thrilled to see her son so happy…she had no idea it would be so incredibly short lived.
Y/n had begun spending the day with Aemond every day, coming to their house in their car after school, her mother coming to get her after work to take her home looking more tired than the night before. Alicent had tried to help the poor women. It turns out her husband had cheated on her while she was pregnant and gotten another women pregnant, divorcing her for his mistress and son. He’s the one who paid for the fancy preschool while her mother worked 3 jobs to keep everything afloat in their one bedroom apartment, since he paid for such a nice school he only paid 200 in child support leaving Marie with everything else and all the debt he had left behind in her name.
Alicent was happy to watch Y/n whenever she needed, it made her son happy and that’s all she wanted in the world. She had been so scared for him before he met Y/n that he would end up going down a dark path, the bullying at home and at school having been hard for him as well as his father clearly loving the child who had butchered him more than his own son.
That all came to a grinding halt however when Y/n’s mom was evicted from her apartment leaving them homeless, forcing them to move in with Marie’s ex-mother in-law who lived in New York. Aemond had tried to promise to visit every weekend before Alicent was forced to explain just how far away New York was from California, to say the children were upset was a huge understatement. The teary good-bye nearly broke the mothers hearts as they swore to write to each other every day, and they did, they both learned to write faster than any of the kids their age just to write to each other and it lasted about a year. Y/n’s grandmother had found out she was writing to a boy in California and cut it off, threatening to take Y/n away from her mother if her mother didn’t stop the interaction. Marie wrote Alicent and explained what had happened leaving her to break her baby’s heart all over again.
Aemond became cold after that. He had no more friends, detested his cousins, tolerated his brothers and only loved Helaena though she was with friends everyday of her life. He took his schooling very seriously, taking several extra curricular’s on the side to take up his time which consisted of Jiu-Jitsu, Tae Kwon Do, and oddly enough, sword fighting which Alicent didn’t support right away until he promised to start with fencing. It turned out that he was really good at it and his father hired a trainer, Criston Cole, to teach him sword fighting, paying to transform a room in the mansion into a training room.
Once Aemond got to middle school, no one was bullying him anymore after breaking 3 kids noses and 2 of their arms. When he turned 14 and moved up to high school he had finally broken down and created an Instagram account. Aemond hated social media, he found it annoying and pointless, but he quickly found a use for it once he looked up Y/n and found her account. It wasn’t private, making it easy to look through all of her pictures, finding out that she still lived in New York with just her Grandmother now as her mother had passed away in a hit and run with a drunk driver when she was 9. She had many pictures with her and another girl who seemed to be her best and only friend and nowhere could Aemond find anything about a boyfriend which gave him an instant sense of relief. He had spent the last almost 10 years obsessing over her, though he kept it to himself. He had sent her a letter a few years before, hoping that maybe now that they had grown a bit she would be able to write him back but it was returned unopened with a note that told him to never send anything again or her grandmother would file a restraining order.
For the next 2 years he was as content as he could be watching her life through social media, until their junior year that is when he decided to pay a man to hack into her computer, actually watching what he did and figuring out how to go about doing it himself. He read all of her emails from then on, finding out what colleges she was applying to and applying himself, knowing he would obviously get in with his incredible grades and extra curricular’s. Her grandmother was forcing her to go to college, wanting her to be a physical therapist despite the fact that she wanted to be an artist. Aemond had found she had a separate, secret Instagram account that her grandmother didn’t know about that held all of her paintings and sketches, and she was honestly incredible.
Aemond had decided that when she was his she would drop out of college and move in with him, she would have her own little art studio to do whatever she wanted in. He would buy her anything she wanted, give her everything in the world if she only asked for it, Y/n Y/L/n was going to be his wife…whether she knew it yet or not.
At 18, Aemond moved out to New York for the year, deciding not to go to college but convincing his father to open a branch of his publishing business out there and let him set everything up for him. It wouldn’t be hard, honestly Aemond would pay others to do everything and just oversee the company while he watched over his Princess. He had already been stalking her online for over 4 years and in her own computer for 2, this was hardly a step up.
Alicent knew of course, she knew that her son had become more than a little obsessed with his childhood friend and she knew that that’s why her boy was going to New York, she had been the one to talk her husband into letting him go. She wanted him to be happy, by any means necessary after all this time of misery and if he needed Y/n to make that happen then she was more than happy to welcome the sweet girl into the family. Even if she knew what her son was doing was wrong, she couldn’t change his mind, and she didn’t want to. Alicent loved Y/n and she knew that if there was one person in the world that her son would never hurt, it was her.
He watched from across the Quad as she arrived at the school, unpacking her things from the car and moving it all into her dorm room, a room which Aemond had made sure was a single for only her, he also made sure he had acquired a key for himself. He felt horrible that he couldn’t help her move things, especially the heavy things, but he knew there was no way she wouldn’t recognize him, and she clearly remembered him. She had several old pictures uploaded to her Instagram of the two of them together, one of them at a Carnival with their faces painted (which she had made him do, even forcing the painter to paint over the eyepatch since it would wash off), one of them carving pumpkins on Halloween, and Aemond’s personal favorite, a picture of the two of them snuggled up in his bed as she had slept over the night before, she was snuggled into his chest with his arms around her and his face in her hair which covered the scar completely. He knew she had plenty of pictures of the two of them without his eye patch on but she never put them online and he loved her for that, even if she didn’t know it yet. Next to his mother, she was the only person who really understood how sensitive he was about his scar and she never made him feel less than because of it, he knew she would never betray him, not even having shown her mother the pictures without the eyepatch.
He followed her to all of her classes, often watching them through the security cameras he had hacked into (becoming quite good at it) to see her during class, he had always loved her look of concentration as her eyes narrowed and she looked like she was scowling at you, she was adorable. He had placed several cameras in her room as well, watching her whenever he could, all she really did was school work and he realized how overwhelmed she was by college life, school was never her environment, it was too stressful for her and her free spirited mind and he knew it. He also knew that her Grandmother had threatened to kick her out onto the streets if she didn’t go to college for what she told her to, he had plans for that women, she will get what she deserves.
On several occasions he was witness to moments that he knew should be private, whether that be her stressed out crying or more…intimate moments. He couldn’t help but watch as her fingers touched her pretty little pussy, rubbing her clit and listening to the sweet sounds she made trying to be quiet, he couldn’t help but wrap his fingers around his length and edge himself right along with her, imagining those fingers in her cunt were his cock, desperate to feel her soft, warm pussy squeezing him as tight as it could as he made her cum again and again until she couldn’t take it anymore. He had fantasized about making her cum on his cock since he was 13 years old and by now he was more than desperate for her.
There were a few nights he actually snuck into the dorms and into her room, watching her sleep up close, trailing his fingers down her body, hating that he can’t just crawl into the bed beside her and hold her tight while he shoves his cock into her and makes her fall asleep with it as deep as it can get.
2 months he watched her before knowing he needed to make her his now, before it was too late. She had been asked out on a date by a Frat guy, begging to take her to a party and Aemond knew he couldn’t allow this.
The Frat boy got a visit from him later that night, waking up to Aemond sitting on the edge of his bed and realizing he had been tied down so tight that the ropes were cutting off circulation to his hands and feet. ‘Hello Chad, so sorry to wake you but this is a very important matter you see. Scream, and I will bash your brains in before anyone can even find out the door is locked, got it?’ He nodded quickly, terror in his eyes and Aemond found that he loved it, he loved scaring people that would hurt his Princess, she doesn’t deserve the kind of treatment this idiot would give her and Aemond knew that party wasn’t anything more than to make fun of his girl. The Frat assholes all getting a freshman girl to come to the ‘party’ and whichever guy could get their girl to put out first won some bullshit prize.
No. His Princess would not be humiliated like that.
‘You see Chad, you are bringing a girl back here tomorrow night, her name is Y/n, yes?’ He nodded again.
‘I didn’t know she was your girl, she didn’t say anything like that! I would never-‘
‘Yes you would, don’t lie to me Chad, boyfriend or not you would happily have brought her back here and made her a part of your little game.’ His eyes widened, unsure how Aemond could possibly know about that. ‘You’re not going to pick her up tomorrow Chad, do you understand? I will not have my Princess hurt and humiliated by an idiotic asshole who realistically couldn’t make a girl smile let alone cum. Now, this is just a warning of course, if I find out you went anywhere near her after our little conversation here, I would have to do something far worse than break into your disgusting Frat house and break your eye socket, do you get me?’
‘Yes! Yes, I-wait…break my wha-‘ quickly Aemond brought the bat he had picked up from the floor, down against the jackasses face, shoving the edge of his blanket into his mouth as he went to scream.
‘Secretly, I hope you do try something just so I get to have an excuse to come back here and break every one of your ribs before I ensure no women will ever say yes to a date with you again.’ He flicked open a blade, holding it against Chads face and hearing him whimper like a bitch. ‘It’s okay Chad, I’m not going to hurt you as long as you do what I’ve said here tonight. Are we on the same page?’ He nodded quickly and Aemond stood, walking out of the room and leaving the house, deciding on taking the bat with him, just in case.
The next night Y/n waited in the Quad at 9 o’clock, cursing out the asshole who didn’t pick her up and feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. She had been so alone here all this time, in a place she didn’t want to be at in the first place and just when she thought someone might be interested in her, even an asshole Frat jock, he stands her up. She felt like she couldn’t hold it in anymore, trying to muffle her cries with the sleeves of her hoodie before hearing someone speak to her.
‘Are you alright Princess?’ Princess? No one had called her Princess since-
Her head snapped up and she saw a very tall man standing about 5 feet away, he was lanky but still covered in muscle that you could clearly see through his tight henley shirt, he wore jeans and heavy boots with his silver hair tied in a bun at the back of his head. They black eyepatch sealed the deal for her though, if she didn’t already assume who this is, now she knows. ‘Aemond? Is that you?’
‘In the flesh…why are you crying Princess?’ He moved to sit beside her on the edge of the fountain and she just stared at him in shock.
‘I…I got stood up-what are you doing here?!’ He smiled sweetly and she couldn’t help but think how handsome her best friend had become…he’s a panty dropper!
‘I’m in New York setting up a branch here for Dad, the school however, my father has recently become a benefactor of, Daeron wants to come to school here for a year to start his doctorate in 2 years, you know dad, start bribing them as early as possible.’ He joked and she giggled, remembering exactly how Viserys used to be. She never had seen him much, which she understood was Aemond’s experience too, but he was always very sweet to her, bringing her gifts and sweets with all of his other children since she was there almost 100% of the time.
‘Did you know I was here?’ He nodded and she glared half heartedly at him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?!’ She raged, punching him in the arm.
‘We’ll mostly because I sent a letter a few years after you left and your grandmother wrote back that I would receive a restraining order if I ever contacted you again. That’s why I never reached out online either, I didn’t want to get you in trouble if she found out.’ Her face fell as he told her that and her tears began streaming again. ‘No more tears Princess, please? Such a gorgeous girl should never feel the need to shed a tear.’ He reached up, taking her face in his hands and wiping her tears with his thumbs tenderly.
‘I’m sorry she did that to you! I wanted to talk to you so badly, everyday! She was so awful to my mom and I thought maybe I would be able to talk to you when we were older but she kept tabs on everything I ever did and now I’m being forced to go to this shitty fucking school and live on campus all alone, and suffocate under a course load that I didn’t want in the first place…I just wanted to paint…and the first time I think maybe I could actually not be completely alone here I get stood up by an asshole Frat jerk!’ Aemond had pulled her to his chest as soon as she started ranting, knowing she needs someone to be there for her and he was determined to make sure it was him. ‘And now I’m ranting to you when you clearly have places to be, I’m sorry!’ She tried to pull away but he didn’t let her, lifting her into his lap for good measure and smiling at the squeak that came from her when she was sat down on him.
‘None of that Princess, you have always been and will always be most important, and I finished my meeting. I’m all yours.’ He said it in a way that he hoped she would hear his dedication to her, and she did, she heard it and couldn’t help but hope he meant he really was all hers. ‘Do you have classes tomorrow?’ She shook her head, resting it against his chest and he felt his entire body heat up as he held her to him firmly, determined that no one would ever take her away again. ‘Okay, then here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back to my place, you’re going to borrow some clothes and we’re going to order dinner-‘
‘No, you have things to do, you’re working here, I can’t-‘
‘No, I can’t! I can’t leave you like this, and I won’t, I will take care of you…you’re mine Princess.’ She looked up at him shocked and he tried his best to convey how hard it’s been without seeing her for the last 14 years. ‘I let them take you from me once, I won’t do it again now that I’ve found you…don’t make me let you go back to a dorm all alone…I won’t do it Y/n.’ She nodded her head quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.
‘I missed you so much Aemond, if you’re sure you’re not too busy-‘
‘I will never be too busy for you. My weekend is yours, come on.’ He helped her stand up but didn’t let go of her, keeping his arm around her waist as he took her bag and led her down to the parking lot where his car is waiting. Aemond opened the door and lifted her into the car, hearing her gasp as he man handled her in, not once complaining about it. The drive was quick back to his home, it was an apartment in a high rise building and he loved watching her eyes slowly widen as she watched the numbers on the elevator go up and up, all the way to the top.
‘You have a penthouse apartment?’ He nodded, smirking down at her and she shoved him playfully.
‘Surely you can’t forget how we live Y/n, you think my father would let me stay anywhere else. Even if I am the least favorite, he insists on a certain condition of living for his family…he would be appalled by your state by the way, and I’m sure once I tell him he will be fixing it-‘
‘What are you talking about? I’m already in a single dorm, I have everything I-‘
‘You shouldn’t be living in a dorm room with God knows how many other women all sharing a bathroom, you’re basically family-‘
‘But I’m not.’ She cut him off and he looked at her startled as he opened the door. ‘Look at this place Aemond! It’s an apartment and I could never afford something like this! I love that you think of me as a sister and your parents think of me like an honorary child but I’m not, I am a peasant compared to you and that will never change, we live in 2 different worlds Aemond.’ He stared at her, trying to calm himself before opening his mouth.
‘You loved being a part of our family…you never judged me for how I lived before-‘
‘I’m not judging you-‘
‘But you are! I don’t like the idea that you think we’re in 2 different worlds, because I never want to exist in a world where you are not beside me, you will never live like that again, not now that I’ve found you. And the fact that you think I ever thought of you like a sister…well it’s just disgusting.’ He explained, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers as lightly as possible before moving to the kitchen, putting her bag on the couch. ‘Now, what would you like for dinner? Are you still a pizza girl, or would you like Chinese? We can get burgers too.’ He offered, pulling out a burger place menu, knowing that’s what she would pick and she quickly did, her whole face red in a heavy blush.
They ordered dinner and Aemond had a man go and pick it up for them while they chose a scary movie to watch. Aemond had loaned her one of his Henley’s before getting her a pair of his boxers from the drawer and letting her change, throwing her clothes into the wash and not being able to stop the creepy stalker inside of him from smelling her panties before putting them in. He had to stop himself from jumping her the second he walked back into the room, seeing his Princess wearing his clothes and sitting in his bed clearly waiting for him.
He set the food down, handing her her chocolate milkshake before stripping to his boxers and climbing into the bed beside her. He saw her try to hide her reddening cheeks as she looked at him, staring at his muscular chest before tearing her eyes away. It wasn’t until he noticed her rubbing her legs together that he felt his cock begin to twitch. She was just as effected by him as he was by her and he was going to have her!
They talked through the movie while eating, getting to know each other, mostly her getting to know him but he asked questions to things he knows the answers to but shouldn’t, and he loved that no matter how personal, she never once lied to him about anything. After all this time she still felt completely comfortable with him.
‘Oh! Mother will be so excited to see you! Come here!’ He held up his phone and pulled her to him, taking a picture of them quickly with her back to his chest as his arm wrapped across her shoulder and torso, his face nuzzled against her hair. It smelled like mangos and pomegranates, everything about her was just perfect.
‘Wait! You’re shirtless! She’s gonna think-‘
‘What?’ He asked, smirking down at her, humor written all over his face as he waited for her to say it. ‘What is she going to think, Princess?’
‘Nothing, never mind.’ She rolled her eyes, leaning against him as the movie finished, Aemond now laying down on the pillows with her head on his chest as if they were children at a sleepover once again.
‘I really did miss you Y/n…there wasn’t one day that I didn’t think about you.’ He willed his cock to stop twitching as she traced her finger around his stomach.
‘I missed you too, I never forgot about you Aemond. You know, I often wondered how someone who had been in my life for such little time could be such a big part of it but you were…you are. I never stopped loving you.’ He took hold of her chin, turning her head to face him and traced her bottom lip with his thumb lightly.
‘I am never leaving you again…tell me you’re mine.’ She gasped quietly, hesitating only a moment before nodding. ‘I know you want me…tell me you’re mine Y/n…tell me.’
‘I’m yours-‘ He cut her off instantly, lips crashing to hers hard and pulling her against his chest firmly. One arm held her waist firmly while his other hand buried his fingers into her hair. He licked her bottom lip, his tongue instantly exploring her mouth as she parted them, sucking her tongue between his lips and making her giggle. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling the hair tie out and tugging it firmly prompting him to bite down on her lip roughly making her squeal.
‘Such fun noises you make, you’ve no idea how long I’ve wondered what you would sound like for me!’ He rolled on top of her, hauling her legs up around his waist and grinding his crotch against her.
‘Oh! Oh Fuck Aemond! Feels so good!’ She whined as he ground his hard cock down against her.
‘You have no idea Princess, I’m going to make you see stars.’ He swore, grabbing ahold of the bottom of his shirt and pulling it up and off of her. ‘So fucking perfect baby, perfect fucking tits!’ His lips wrapped around her rosy nipple, sucking hard and chuckling when her back arched up into him as he did this. He switched tits, pulling her hardened peak between his teeth teasingly before beginning to kiss and suck his way down her stomach, fingers catching on her boxers and pulling them down, throwing them off to the side of the bed. He took a pause, leaning back and looking down at her…Finally seeing his girl on his bed laid out for him…nothing could be sweeter. She closed her legs awkwardly, unsure why he stopped but he quickly caught them, yanking them apart again roughly. ‘No you don’t gorgeous! You’re mine, all mine. I’m allowed to look at what’s mine. All fucking mine.’ He growled, leaning back down and shoving his face between her legs, tasting her for the first time. Aemond lifted her legs onto his shoulders, sucking on her clit and grinning as he heard her loud, needy cries.
‘Fuck, yes! Please? Please Aemond, don’t stop?!’ Stop? Stop? What is Stop? He couldn’t define that word right now, it didn’t fucking exist to him as he flattened his tongue and traced it down to her hole, pushing into her and moaning at how tight his little cunt was for him. He peeked up at her as he began fucking into her with his tongue, his nose brushing against her clit and making her squeal. ‘Oh God!’
‘No!’ He cut her off, fingers rubbing hard at her clit as he looks up at her and she tries to pull away from the almost painful attention on her body. ‘Tonight, I am your God. Do you understand me? Tonight you pray to me while I worship this body. Yes?’
‘Yes! YES! Please God, Please?!’ She sobbed, tears falling from her eyes now as she teetered on the edge, so close and needing one last push.
‘Yes Princess.’ He moaned, pushing his long fingers into her and shoving her over that edge just as she needed, watching her face contort in ecstasy as she came, hips lifting off of the bed as she screamed.
‘Fuck Aemond!’
‘There’s my good girl! Cumming so good for me.’ He kissed his way back up her body, removing his boxers as he did and leaning against her, taking his thick cock in his hand and preparing to push himself into her. ‘How do you feel baby?’ She just moaned, nodding her head and pulling him down to kiss her and as she did he pressed his cock against her hole, driving his hips home and finding her cute little squeal completely adorable. ‘So good!’ Aemond groaned, pulling out and pushing into her again. ‘So fucking tight on me, aren’t you?’ She nodded, her mouth hanging open as if screaming but no sound was coming out. ‘Yes you are, so good to me, this little pussy loves my cock so much, feel how she’s pulsing around me? She knows my cock is the only one that can make you feel like this. The only one that ever will again.’ He had picked up his pace and was now slamming into her over and over again. ‘You’re mine now Princess, all mine! Mine to care for, mine to love, mine to fuck! Isn’t that right?’
‘Yes! Yes Aemond! All yours! Please, please never stop! Oh Fuck!’
‘No need to beg Baby.’ Tears were now leaking down her cheeks and he knew he had her just where he wanted her. He could get her to agree to anything he’d like. He felt her cunt tighten around him and watched her eyes roll up as she came around his cock, squeezing so good he could make a case for why this wasn’t Earth anymore but Heaven that they were tethered to. His thumb found her clit as he sat back, thrusting into her at a rapid pace and feeling his end approaching quickly, throwing her into another orgasm before allowing himself to finish, burying his cock inside of her as deeply as he could and filling her up. ‘That’s it. Good Girl, taking all of me so good. I’m gonna take you home, back to where you belong with our family. No more school you don’t want to be in, no more grandparents you despise, just you and me and all of the babies that I’m going to fill this body with. How does that sound?’ Y/n’s responding moan was answer enough for him, whether it was meant to be or not. ‘All mine now Princess…all mine.’
Stalker Aemond Moodboard
Aemond Targaryen Masterlist
#house of the dragon aemond#house of targaryen#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd dragons#hotd season 1#hotd aemond#hotd x reader#hotd imagine#hotd smut#hotd#aemond oneshot#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#prince aemond#aemond the kinslayer#aemond x reader#aemond x oc#aemond smut#stalker!aemond#Stalker!Aemond Targaryen#ewan mitchell#modern!aemond#modern!Aemond Targaryen
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Part 2 now up!
Oooh, yes yes I know exactly what I want to write for these lovely Anon prompts! (edit: oh yeah, Aemond popped off in this one...I was expecting to be writing harsh words, and maybe threatening...but nah he uh kills them)
Aemond x wife!reader | crude language | protective Aemond | violence
Moonlight washed over your face, the cool night breeze rustling your skirts as you snuck outside the Keep walls. You knew he waited for you, just below the descending stone steps in front of you, awash in silver light.
You saw a figure in a cloak, hooded and tall, lithe of frame, waiting for you, his hand on the banister as he turned toward the sound of your hurrying feet. "Y/N." Your name on his tongue like honey as your husband extended his arm for you to take. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost leaving our rooms."
"Aemond." You chided. "That's only happened once, and I had Aegon as my escort, we were both thoroughly in our cups."
"Mmhmm." He guided you swiftly down the remaining stairs, out into the open streets of King's Landing, the Red Keep a looming fortress at your backs. "You were undetected?"
"I had to navigate around some guardsmen, but yes. No one knows we're sneaking off to the fire festival." You looked up at him from under your own hood. "Why are we sneaking, Aemond?"
"Anonymity is half the fun." He mused, squeezing your arm briefly. "I'd rather enjoy the festivities with my lady without peasantry taking notice of our presence."
Firelight up ahead caught your eye. As the two of you strode forward the quiet darkened streets gave way to raucous revelry. Small folk laughing and cheering as fire dancers whirled and spat flame. There was an open pavilion with a makeshift stage whereon actors flounced about in comedic costumes. Bussers carrying platters of drink and food navigated their way through the chattering crowd. The smell of baked goods and sweet delicacies teased your nostrils as you inhaled, sharing a smile with Aemond.
Aemond did not release his grip on you the whole time you indulged in as many festival activities as you could. At all times he had a hand gripping your cloak fabric or tangled his fingers with your own. More often than not, he would watch your face rather than the performances of the acrobats and fire eaters. You would be gazing at them open mouthed in wonder at their skill, then your eyes would flick to Aemond's face, and he would be studying your expression with a soft half-smile upon his curved lips, the firelight reflecting in his lilac eye.
As the night wore on, your feet began to ache despite the support of your leather boots. You were loath to leave, even as the crowd began thinning and the booths of food slowly turned in their wares.
A group of men, huddled together near a mossy stone wall, caught your attention as one of them said Aemond's name in a gruff voice. His fellows erupted into laughter at whatever he'd just said about your husband, and your fists curled into instinctive fists. Aemond's hand at your waist indicated he heard it too, and you glanced up to see he was staring at ground, his lips firmly pressed together as he concentrated on overhearing their conversation.
You both didn't have to strain your ears overmuch as the next words were clear to be heard, spoken in a deep drunken drawl. "He's lucky to have landed a lady like her."
His friends grunted in agreement.
Another man spoke up in a reedy voice. "Landed?" He scoffed. "Bedded is more like. What I wouldn't give to get a piece of her."
You noticed Aemond had stilled so completely, he had stopped breathing as his narrowed eye flitted to the huddle of men.
"Man like that Aemond Targaryen. Missing an eye and all that and still gets between the legs of something like her." A rail-thin man took a derisive swig from a bottle. "I would give her a good fucking and she'd be able to stomach my face."
"Get bent Tarful." His companion growled, pushing the thin man on the shoulder. "I'd love me the chance to put a bastard in her belly though."
"Aemond no!" You hissed, grabbing onto your husband's cloak but to no avail. The fabric was wrenched from your grip as Aemond strode forward, throwing back the hood of his cloak as he unsheathed his sword.
There were three of them, inebriated as they were, and only one of Aemond. You crouched to the ground, feeling around for a loose stone, anything that could be used as a weapon should the need arise.
The men didn't take note of Aemond's presence until he was almost upon them.
"What the shit?"
"Who the-"
"Oh, hells take me."
Horrified recognition slid across their faces as they took in the sight of Aemond's livid face. The prince stood rigid, a hand behind his taut back as he pressed the point of his sword into the eldest man's throat.
"You dare speak of my wife in such a manner." Aemond could barely speak for the overwhelming rage constricting his throat. "You dare have such vile thoughts about her."
His long silver hair shone under the moon, cascading down his back and over his shoulders, his violet eye aflame, clearly indicating who he was even to the drunken men before him.
The reedy man reached for a small dagger at his belt, drawing it and stepping toward the enraged prince.
"Foolish." Aemond seethed, barely glancing at him as his sword flashed in a blur of movement.
A spray of blood, the man crumpled. You gasped, looking away as you covered your mouth.
"Y/N. Leave." Aemond commanded, his tone still hard and imperious. "Head back to the Keep. I will catch up with you."
"Aemond..."
"Go!"
You scrambled upright, running across the deserted courtyard, only glancing back once to see the remaining two men cowering before the Targaryen prince, his long sword still extended, now dripping red.
Few others were still in the streets, and they paid you no mind as you hurried away, back up the hill to the Red Keep. Your stomach twisted with the memory of those men's violating words, and the sound of that body hitting the cobblestones with dull finality.
Aemond was gentle and kind when he was with you. You almost forgot he had the blood of Old Valyria coursing hot through his veins. His fury scared you as much as it thrilled you. You had never before seen this side of your husband. Now you understood a little better why the Targaryens were so feared and respected, the words of their family running through your mind.
Fire and blood.
#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond one eye x reader#prince aemond x reader#hotd x reader#hotd imagine#aemond imagine#aemond drabble#aemond oneshot#aemond one eye#pro aemond targaryen#aemond fluff#aemond fanfic#hotd aemond x reader#aemond targaryen scenarios#aemond stannies#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction
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The Evening Star (1/2)
[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]
[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, kidnaping, sexual tension, obsession, incest, toxic relation ]
[ description: When the god of the underworld comes out of his caves once a year to admire his beloved constellation, he accidentally meets his niece, whom he has never seen before. Moved by sudden lust and desire, he kidnaps her, despite her despair and his brother's anger. Angst, sexual tension, dark and obsessive Aemond. ]
Part 2: The Moonlight Ray
The Evening Star & The Moonlight Ray
Persephone Moodboard
*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*
My others works: Masterlist
_____
He never understood his brother, hurling his lightning bolts from the heavens at defenceless people in a rage − he did not understand his volatility, he did not understand his irrepressible desire, his unlimited emotionality.
He did not understand how he could desire and feel so many things at once, having his sister-wife haunt and take other goddesses, nymphs, or even human women, begetting bastards on earth and in the heavens.
He did not understand him, for he was emptiness, abyss, coldness, the opposite of his impulsiveness, his eternal volatility − he was like stone, like white marble, soul as well as body.
The only desire he had ever known in his life was the desire for power, and for this his brother deprived him of one eye before casting him into a dark abyss where not even the light of the stars could reach.
Although he was a god, his brother's blow could not be undone and he was forever disfigured, the dark hole in his face filled with a precious stone, sapphire, shining with a disturbing blue light.
Accustomed to the darkness of Hades, he could no longer bear the intense light of the sun and rarely appeared on Olympus itself; he would wander through his dark caverns in his long, black matted robe and gaze at the river Styx, at its pale light and the contorted terrified faces of the souls who swam in it.
When word reached him that his brother had mated with their other sister, the goddess of the field crops, and that she had bore him a daughter, he was neither surprised nor interested − he did not come to celebrate her birth on Olympus or congratulate his brother.
His brother had often suggested to him that he should take a wife, that he should not be alone in the darkness of the underworld.
He, however, felt no such need.
Even his sister, known as the Goddess of Love and Desire, was unable to seduce him.
She touched his naked body with her soft lips and hands, but he felt nothing but embarrassment.
He left Hades only once a year, when his favourite constellation emerged in the sky − He would then stroll through the old, dense forest looking up at the stars, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the rustle of the leaves.
When this time of year came, when he left his caves and looked up, he felt contentment at the sight of the twinkling dots in the sky, the pleasant night breeze enveloping his cold body.
He strolled slowly and aimlessly, looking upwards, all around him only the quiet rustling of his robes and the sound of dew-wet grass lingering beneath his feet.
He froze as he heard someone's footsteps break a twig not far from him, he knew he was not alone and he was furious.
He thought that whoever this mortal was, he would flow right down his river of the dead.
He tilted his head to the side and saw a pale figure illuminated only by shy starlight, her body pressed against the trunk of a tree as if she wanted to take refuge in it, her face expressing helpless anxiety.
Her eyes were big, warm and as dark as his robe, her hair long, partly loose, partly decorated with rich braids encircling her head, small blue flowers woven into her hair.
Her full, moist, fleshy lips were parted slightly in an accelerated breath, her breasts which he could see perfectly through the thin, transparent material of her robe were rising and falling restlessly, her skin glistening like moonlight.
He stared at her, unable to move or make a sound, unsure if he had ever seen a being so infinitely beautiful in his life, luminous as the stars above his head.
He swallowed loudly when he saw that she had taken a step back to retreat, to escape.
"Is it the beautiful Evening Star herself who has left the sky to enchant me with her company?" He asked lowly, impassively, his voice though assured and direct trembled, betraying his desperation.
She stopped in mid-motion and looked at him again, surprised and embarrassed at the same time by his words − it seemed to him that he saw perfectly well how her cheeks flushed, giving her skin a rose tint.
She pressed her lips together watching him carefully, lifting her chin slightly as if probing him closely from afar, assessing whether he was a threat to her, whether he would hurt her.
He was unable to take his eyes off her.
"I will tell you who I am only if you tell me who you are." She whispered in a trembling, gentle tone.
A smirk appeared on his face at the thought that maybe she was a nymph who had ventured too far from her friends, and that she was at his mercy now.
He hummed under his breath and moved ahead, putting his hands behind his back, looking under his feet, moving unhurriedly towards her.
"They call me many names." He said with mischievous amusement, throwing her a piercing, disturbing look from which she shuddered all over, taking a step back again.
"My river, though water is a life-giving gift, brings death." He whispered once he was a few steps away from her, wanting her to solve the riddle herself, to exert herself.
She swallowed loudly, her eyes widening suddenly, as if she had just realised something.
"− uncle −" She whispered, and he froze, stopping in mid-step; for the first time in the thousands of years he had walked the world he felt his own heart pounding hard.
He looked at her in disbelief, and it was only at close that he saw that she did indeed have something of his brother and sister in her, though it was her she resembled more − he felt himself grow even paler than usual, his hands clenched into fists behind his back.
She, however, seemed not frightened about who he was, her face took on an expression full of contentment and warmth. She moved closer to him and now it was he who took a step back feeling a strange heat in his lower abdomen, his manhood throbbed suddenly as he caught a glimpse of the outline of her soft breasts.
"My mother told me a lot about you. About the sun hurting your eye." She said softly, and he swallowed loudly seeing that she was staring at his scar, at the stone placed where his eye once was.
He thought he was like Hephaestus, hideous, disfigured, and that she would never desire him.
He felt his jaw clench tightly, his body tense, hard as granite when she tentatively placed her soft hand on his shoulder, he felt the warmth of her flesh through the thin material of his robe.
He didn't know what was happening to his body, he felt tickling and tension in his lower abdomen, a strenuous need for some kind of relief that he didn't understand.
"Stay with me to watch the sunrise. Don't sink into darkness yet." She whispered as if in worry − he couldn't tear his eyes from her face, from her warm gaze.
He was unable to comprehend how any living being could be so beautiful.
"No." He said coldly, and then grasped her in his arms, his hands clenching on her soft, hot flesh like steel tongs.
For a moment she couldn't make a sound, terrified and shocked − she didn't scream when he threw her over his shoulder and headed towards his underworld, cold, dark, damp.
It was only when she realised what he was doing that she began to struggle and cry, calling loudly for help from her mother and father, begging him not to do it, to let her go, that she would not tell anyone about it.
He, however, decided to follow his brother's advice and take a wife.
The marriage required the oaths from both of them, but this did not prevent him from acknowledging her as his wife even though she refused to speak the words.
Even though he had given her his most beautiful chamber, on whose ceiling precious minerals shimmered like stars, in which streams of water hummed, in which she could lie on a great, soft bed, she did not want to see him.
He was not his brother.
He had no intention of taking her against her will.
It was enough for him that he could look at her every day.
Only him.
He bestowed new gifts on her every day, but she still cried.
He gave her a beautiful long gown of dark, translucent material embroidered with stones in which the warm light of the sun was encased after she said she longed to see it, but she didn't even look at it.
The blue flowers in her hair withered as did the warmth in her eyes − she was slowly becoming as pale as he was and was constantly shivering from the cold.
She would not let him embrace or touch her; she covered herself with the thick furs he had given her and turned away from him.
Occasionally something would awaken in her − she would then run up to him when he visited her and beg him to let her leave to see her mother.
"I promise you that I will come back and that I will be your wife. Please, let me see the sunshine and the fresh grass one last time." She begged, touching tenderly his cold cheek with her fingers, almost as if she loved him, and he almost gave in to her every time.
"I can't, Persephone." He replied coolly, feeling some kind of pain seeing the despair on her face, hearing her helpless sobbs again, her small hands clenched on his robe, her cheek hugged to his chest.
"My name is Kora." She mumbled with difficulty, as if enraged. He hummed at her words, lifting slowly his large, cold hand, taking unruly strands of her hair from her face, all red from crying.
"Persephone, this name, is my gift to you. For my sweet wife." He whispered, and she trembled, struggling to breathe, shaking all over.
"− please −" She babbled as he embraced her uncertainly and stroked her hair, relishing its soft texture, letting her draw on this substitute of comfort.
He walked with her through the interiors of Hades, wanting to show her that besides death, there was also beauty in the underworld − underground streams and lakes with crystal clear water, his three-headed, beloved Cerberus, who in his presence turned from a monstrous beast into a gentle, docile animal.
Sometimes it seemed to him that a smile adorned her face for a moment, but then the sadness came over her again − she shuddered with cold and fear hearing the wailing of souls floating in the Styx, she glanced nervously in that direction, swallowing loudly.
"Are they suffering a lot? Can they be helped?" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, walking beside her with his arms folded behind his back.
"They are paying for what they have done in their lifetime. Their merits and transgressions have been weighed by Temida, who has issued a judgment on them. There is nothing I can do." He admitted with a glance at her, and she lowered her gaze, looking down at her hands.
"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her at last, and she lifted her large, frightened eyes to him, her lips parted but no sound came from her throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling a sting in his chest.
He asked her if she was afraid of him after he had kidnapped her and held her against her will.
What did he expect?
The wrath of his brother and sister was quickly getting to him − her mother distraught at her disappearance had fallen into a state of utter agony, people were being starved to death by the land's failure to yield crops, there were more souls flowing in the Styx than he had ever seen in his centuries-long life.
He felt a kind of satisfaction when his brother descended into the underworld for the first time since time immemorial; he hated to think about dying and passing, and could not grasp the meaning of such a short life, knowing only the meaning of infinity himself.
He came out to meet him sitting proudly on his black marble throne, thousands of skulls at his feet.
For the first time he looked down on his brother, a gigantic cave all around them, Styx surrounding them on all sides except a small bridge.
"Brother. I warn you for the last time. If you don't give me my daughter..."
"Then what? I should take a wife at last – those are your words, aren't they?" He asked with a sneer, sitting stretched out comfortably in his seat.
"I want to see her." He demanded, and his lips tightened at his words. "Or I'll take her away from you myself and you'll never see her again."
"I poured water from my river into the honey she drank. Like any soul who has already bound herself to the underworld, she will not leave Hades without my permission." He said calmly, and his brother's face flushed red, his angry low voice echoing around him so that the ground shook around them.
"I WANT TO SEE HER!"
He hummed under his breath and nodded to his servant to bring her in.
His wife came out of her chamber a moment later − when she saw her father she immediately beamed, ran to him and threw herself into his arms.
He looked at them coolly, feeling his heart pounding fast, his stomach twisting with rage.
"My sweet daughter. Did he hurt you?" He asked as if the welfare of any woman mattered to him, as if he hadn't raped an endless number of innocent girls, forgetting them quickly because they were dying in what seemed to him to be just the blink of an eye.
He swallowed loudly when his Persephone shook her head, tightening her lips, lowering her head.
"He's good to me." She whispered and he felt a squeeze in his heart, a pain he had never known before.
His brother looked at him accusingly, trying to contain his aggressive, abrupt nature.
"People are suffering hunger because of you. Her mother has gone mad with despair, the flowers are not blooming, the grains are not yielding. Let them be together at least a few months of the year and I will recognise your marriage in the eyes of Olympus." He suggested, and he furrowed his brow.
"No." He hissed coldly, his gaze icy, piercing, furious, his hand clenched into a fist. "She is my wife. A wife's place is with her husband."
His brother moved in fury, wanting to lash out at him, the ground shook around them again, but his daughter's hand stopped him.
"Let us speak alone, father." She said softly; his brother backed away, panting heavily, his jaw clenched tight.
He hummed under his breath when he saw his wife move towards him, climbing the black, cold stone steps to finally stand before him − his brother snorted and turned, walking away, furious.
He looked up at his Persephone massaging his chin, delighted to see the outline of her body shapes beneath her thin white robe.
He shuddered and swallowed loudly, shocked as she sat on his lap, his manhood throbbed suddenly feeling her body so close, her fresh scent like a cool morning breeze.
"− husband −" She whispered with a soft click of her pink tongue, her hips innocently rubbing against his hardness, his body shivered at the sound of that word.
She had never called him that before.
She touched his cheek with her soft fingertips so gently, tenderly, slow strokes of her hips teasing him so innocently, that he parted his lips, breathing with increasing difficulty, his palms tightening on his cold stone armrests.
He could feel his length pulsing and swelling with every motion she made, he didn't understand what was happening to him.
He didn't stop her when she reached up to tie of his matte black robe, he drew in a loud breath and closed his eyelids when her delicate hand tentatively touched what was underneath.
"I am yours. I will give myself to you of my own free will." She whispered in a sweet, warm, trembling voice, her gaze misty, her lips full, swollen, red from emotion.
A quiet, low groan broke from his throat as he felt her hand direct the fat head of his manhood between her thighs with a gentle movement, he could see through the translucent material as she slowly began to sink him into her body.
He tilted his head back with quiet moan, licking his lower lip, feeling her hot, fleshy insides squeeze him wonderfully from all sides − she was surprisingly moist and warm, her core throbbing with arousal.
He felt her put her hands on his shoulders, lowering herself onto him with a loud, sweet gasp, her plump lips parted wide.
His hands involuntarily gripped her hips as she began to move, rising and falling against his length so painfully slowly that he had to close his eyelids shut, panting louder and louder along with her.
"– gods –" He exhaled with difficulty as she accelerated, the loud, sticky slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through the dark cavern, his manhood throbbing and twitching inside her, all hard and swollen with pleasure.
Involuntarily, his cold fingers clenched on the hot skin of her hips − he rooted his manhood into her tight, moist insides with his desperate, pathetic thrusts, her sticky moisture dripping down her thighs.
"– for our marriage to be valid you must fill me with yourself, my husband –" She whispered, pressing her forehead against his, droplets of sweat glistening on her body like little diamonds, her sweet moans of pleasure, her slick walls sucking him inside made him loose his temper.
He gasped weakly at her words, he had never felt a woman's insides before, had never desired anyone before her.
He felt like his manhood was going to explode with desire and lust, his thrusts became faster and more brutal, her soft breasts bouncing in front of his face − he lifted his hand and squeezed it tentatively, a soft mewl of delight erupted from her throat.
"– Persephone –" He breathed out pleadingly, imploringly, and then she kissed him, her hot, swollen, moist lips clinging to his, cold, dead, the tips of their tongues licking each other.
"– please –" She mewled although he didn't know what she was actually asking him, and then he heard her cry loudly, as if surprised, her hot insides clenching against him greedily, her tongue deep in his throat.
He felt with each thrust of his hips that he was getting closer and closer to something he'd never experienced before in his life.
Fulfilment.
The wave of heat and pleasure, his seed that spilled inside her surprised him so much that his voice stuck in his throat, and then again and again a low, helpless groan broke from his mouth − both of them were panting as they looked at each other with their lips open wide, his hands clenched painfully tight on her hips.
"I'm yours." She whispered softly, sweetly − he was looking at her feeling only peace, only love. "I am only yours, so please, let me see her."
He felt the heat in his heart replaced by coldness, his brow furrowed in a sense of anger, of pain, of betrayal.
"No." He hissed, wanting to lift her up, but she shook her head, cupping his face in her warm, soft hands.
"I will never truly be your wife if you won't trust me. If I don't come back to you of my own free will." She said helplessly, pain, fear and suffering in her eyes again, his lips tightened into a thin line at her words.
"Nine months with my mother so I can enjoy the sun, and then three here, just with you, every night, every day, I swear." She whispered tenderly pressing her face against his cheek, her scent overpowering and stupefying him, her warm insides still pleasantly enveloping his already soft manhood.
He swallowed loudly at her words, his palms digging firmly into the soft skin of her thighs.
"You're lying. You will never come back to me." He hissed and groaned low when he felt her hips begin to move up and down again with a loud click of her wetness and his spend, his manhood pulsed involuntarily with pleasure, betraying him.
"I'll come back. I promise I'll come back."
As much as she wanted him to lead her away, he didn't want to watch her disappear beyond the borders of Hades never to return.
He didn't want to watch her run merrily towards the light, thanking the gods for his weakness and naivety, for how every woman in history had been able to exploit a man's desires.
He did not want her to see his expression, his suffering and all the other feelings he did not want to feel.
The day after she left, he went to her chamber and lay in her bedding, sinking his nose into her scent.
He found, with regret and pain, that with each passing month her scent grew fainter and fainter, her silhouette in his mind becoming more and more blurred, as if he had never really met her.
He touched himself thinking about her, experiencing both wonderful and painful fulfilment with the knowledge that he would never feel her again.
He preferred to explain to himself that it was just a dream.
That he had never met her.
He knew she would not return.
She would not return to her captor, to the man who had kept her in a dark underworld for months, deaf to her pleas and sobs, a man who was crippled, who was cold, frightening and empty.
Despite this, despite knowing it, when the day came he could think of nothing else − he watched as the sand shifted in the great hourglass constructed of bone and glass as he lay in his chamber, drinking wine, feeling like a demented madman, listening for her footsteps amidst the groans of the dead.
She did not come.
He stared at the empty hourglass, which turned and the sand began to shift again, counting down the time of the new day; he wondered how he could have been so naïve to wait.
For the first time in ages he felt an embarrassing, burning wetness under his eyelids − proof that he really loved her.
He shuddered when he heard the quiet rustling of robes − he glanced sideways and saw her standing in the doorway of his dark chamber, in her hair beautiful small yellow flowers, her face bright and warm.
She wore the gown he had given her, black, decorated with sun rays stones.
"My mother kept me. She couldn't let me go." She whispered, and he felt his throat tighten, his body freeze, unable to make a sound or make any movement.
He breathed hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his lower lip and hands trembling involuntarily as she approached him slowly, as her hands untied the bindings of his robe with a light, easy motion, revealing what was underneath, how much he wanted her, how much he waited for her.
"I have been counting down the days when I will see your face again." She whispered, running her fingers over his scarred cheek, sitting on top of him, gently taking his hard length in her palm, lowering herself onto the fat head of his cock as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
He wanted to tell her that he didn't believe her, but instead a surprised, throaty groan of pleasure burst from his mouth − he tilted his head back, panting loudly, his hips involuntarily beginning to root his manhood into her fleshy, moist insides, her hands clenched on his shoulders.
"– fuck –" He gasped out looking at her with his lips parted, synchronising his thrusts with the rhythm of her body − he swallowed loudly as she slid the material of her robe off her shoulders, exposing her soft, plump breasts to him.
"– touch me, husband –" She cooed, and he lifted himself, immediately pressed his lips to her breast, sucking on it greedily, licking and teasing her nipple with his tongue, all hard with desire.
She sank her fingers into his long white hair and pressed his face against her chest, rising and falling on top of him with a loud click of her moisture, moaning so sweetly and loudly that he felt like his manhood was about to explode.
"– were you touching yourself? – did you touch yourself when you weren't with your husband? –" He hissed out in a trembling voice between flicks of his tongue, she kissed his hair in an attempt to soften his question and her answer.
"– forgive me, husband – forgive me, I've missed you so terribly –" She mumbled helplessly as he ran his fingers down her hips, twisting with her so that she fell on her back.
He gripped her thighs in his hands, looking down at her − her face all red with exertion, her hair scattered in disarray around her head, her body all bare before him, hot, beautiful, his.
"– I think I should remind you to who this body belongs to –" He growled, ending his sentence with a deep, brutal thrust, a loud, surprised moan escaping from her throat.
"– you are mine –"
Thrust.
"– mine –"
Thrust.
"– mine –"
Thrust.
"– repeat –"
"– I – I'm yours – I'm yours, forgive me, uncle –" She mumbled out with difficulty and drew in the air loudly as he spread her thighs shamelessly in front of him, looking down at the place where their bodies joined, her entrance clenching against him steadily, leaking with her wetness.
"– I forgive you, sweet wife –" He gasped, recognising this act of grace as an expression of his love and gratitude that she had not betrayed him, that she had returned, that he held her in his arms again.
"– I'll fill you with my seed and it'll be just as it should be –" He exhaled as he watched the perverse sight of their bodies slamming against each other with a loud slaps, his thrusts deep and sure, each time opening her wide on his thick, swollen cock.
He couldn't believe that she had come back to him, that he could smell her wonderful, floral scent again, that she was allowing him to possess her of her own free will.
Her fingers grasped his hand and sank it between her thighs − he felt her direct him to the small bud between her soft folds, she moaned when he touched her there.
"– here, husband – please –" She mewled and moaned loudly, throwing her head back as he began to rub her there, simultaneously caressing her inside and out, her core beginning to pulse greedily against him.
"– gods – stop clenching –" He exhaled with difficulty, rooting into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her fleshy walls apart with the sticky click of her moisture.
He felt that if he went on like this he would simply come inside her, when he wanted to torment her, to prolong the moment of this immense pleasure and encounter after so many months.
"– I can't – I can't –" She sobbed loudly and he saw her fulfilment in all its glory, her hot, soft flesh went through convulsions, greedily sucking him inside, her lips parted wide in pleasure, her gaze misty and warm.
He cursed loudly, coming inside her so painfully hard that he clenched his eyes shut, panting loudly, rooting into her for a moment longer, the relief and delight that surged through his body was indescribable.
He looked at her beautiful face, her hands on either side of her head, her expression nothing but fulfilment and peace, her breathing uneven and ragged, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.
She looked up at him after a moment and smiled sleepily, raising her hand slowly − her soft fingertips ran over his scarred cheek and he closed his eyes, feeling pleasant, hot squeeze in his heart.
"What is my wife's name?" He asked in a whisper, kissing her warm, small hand, smelling of fresh grass and flowers. He heard her sigh sweetly at his question, her fingers sliding lower, running over his cold lips.
"Persephone."
_____
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A Father’s Love
request: Hii!! I was wondering if you could do a aemond imagine where you are jace twin sister so you have the strong look! Viserys decided to marry you off to aemond to prevent the bloodshed and your first born a son comes out with the the dark brown hair and aegon starts teasing his brother about it because it’s like karma hit the greens about having a targaryean with a dark hair but aemond ends up protecting you and your child from all the comments coming from the greens. Thank you 🤍
pairing: aemond targaryen x y/n velaryon (strong)
word count: 2k
warning: mentions of pregnancy & childbirth, canon typical violence (protective aemond)
a/n: i think aemond’s son having the strong look would change his view of rhaenyra & her boys
When you were still but a girl your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, explained to you that you would have your husband picked out for you in an arranged marriage. You didn’t quite understand it then, but the picture became clearer as you got older.
By the time you were one and ten your grandsire King Viserys had declared you would marry your uncle Aemond born of the same year. The arrangement came after the night of your aunt Laena’s funeral, when Aemond claimed Vhagar for his own and your younger brother Lucerys struck out his left eye.
You were close with Aemond when you were children, but after the night he lost his eye, Rhaenyra moved your family to Dragonstone. Your relationship with Aemond had been reduced down to letters over the last six years. He wrote once and he expressed his fear that you might not love him because of the scar on his face due to the response of the whispers from the Keep. You assured him something so trivial as an old wound would not deter the feelings you already held for him.
The only people you told about the letters you exchanged with Aemond was your twin, Jacaerys, and your mother. Jacaerys didn’t like the idea of you marrying your uncle at first, but when you read him some of the sweeter things Aemond had written you, Jacaerys decided your uncle wasn’t the worst man you could possibly marry. Rhaenyra didn’t mind her younger brother and was more concerned about what Alicent could do to you upon your return.
Your reunion with Aemond went profoundly well as you promised it would, and the two of you married within weeks of your return to King’s Landing. Though Rhaenyra, your brothers, and uncle/new step-father Daemon attended the wedding celebrations, they didn’t stay long after the celebrations concluded. You understood because of the tensions between your mother and Queen Alicent, but it didn’t make you miss your family any less.
Aemond helped, however, as he loved having you by his side at all times. He walked you to your lessons, invited you to watch him train, he accompanied you to dress fittings. With all the attention you’d been receiving from your proud husband it came as no surprise to anyone when Aemond announced at dinner one night that you were officially with child.
From that moment on Aemond’s tendencies to keep a watchful eye on you even worse. Any moment he couldn’t remain by your side he assigned two of his very own hand picked Kingsguard knights to accompany you. Thankfully your pregnancy went as smoothly as possible, all things considered. You had mild nausea through the majority but eventually it relented and things were smooth from there.
Labor was long, and incredibly painful, so much so the maester advised if you’d squeezed any harder you’d have broken Aemond’s hand. Aemond had stayed by your side from the moment you informed him your labors had begun and refused to leave your side despite some of the arguing of the maester and most of the midwives. Finally after about fourteen hours, you gave birth to a healthy chubby, brown haired boy.
So focused on the newborn babe laid contently on your chest you hardly registered that your mother-in-law Queen Alicent had entered the room. Despite being nothing but kind towards her, Alicent never made a move to return the same sentiment.
But Aemond noticed. He watched as his mother’s face contorted into a look of disgust as she glared, glared down at the babe on your chest. He watched as his mother forced a smile on her face. Her dead eyes said everything Aemond needed to know.
“He’s a little darling,” Alicent forced through her fake smile.
Soon after Taelon’s birth, rumors began spreading around the Keep of his legitimacy. Your lady in waiting, Lilian had been the first to mention the rumors to you one morning as she brushed and braided your hair. The most popular whisperers were ones along the lines of that your son had been conceived while Aemond was away or that you had laid with your brother Jacaerys instead.
You mentioned them to Aemond later that same day when you met him for tea, and he told you he’d already heard with them and was working towards finding the source of such blasphemy so it would be properly taken care of.
Almost a whole month later, however, and Aemond did not yet have the source. At least, that’s what he told you. The whole time he knew it was his own mother, Alicent, that was spreading the rumours throughout the Keep. For weeks he turmoiled in anguish and fury that resulted deep in his gut as he worked his mind for a solution.
He couldn’t decide whether, or more accurately, just how to confront his mother on the subject. The news of the arrival of your mother and the rest of your family arriving in King’s Landing provided the well needed distraction for Aemond, and you.
You and Aemond await side by side as your family approaches, you with Taelon swaddled in your arms. Rhaenyra reaches you first, kissing your face several times before looking down to the babe in your arms. “Oh,” Rhaenyra cooes at your son. “He’s gorgeous, my dear. You’ve done wonderfully.”
“Thank you,” you smile at her, and offer her your son. She takes him in her arms happily.
Jacaerys appears by your side and pulls you into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, sister.”
“And I, you, brother.” you whisper to him.
Lucerys and Joffrey join the hug, but soon lurch away as you begin to ruffle their thick, dark hair.
“You boys have grown into fine young men! I cannot believe how tall you all are,” you gape at your brothers.
Aemond places his hand at the small of your back and pulls you into his side. “My wife is quite right, nephews. It pleases me to see the man my own son is sure to grow into.”
Jacaerys can’t hide the shock in his face as he studies his uncle for any malicious intentions. Lucerys grasps your hand like he did when he was first learning how to walk and would use you to support himself. Rhaenyra’s eyes widen at Aemond in shock and she looks to your for an answer. All you give her is a shrug as you take your son from her arms and look back to your family. Your mother, brothers, stepfather Daemon, standing with you, your husband, and newborn son. Something you once thought to be impossible, happening in front of your own eyes.
You knew after everything that happened between Aemond and Lucerys the night Aemond claimed Vhagar the dynamics in your family would never be the same. For a long time Aemond held a deep, vicious hatred for Lucerys. To be honest you didn’t exactly blame him. After Aemond finally opened up to you about some of his insecurities and frustrations regarding the loss of his eye and the scar that came as a result, and it helped you understand these fears and insecurities is what fueled his hatred for your brother. Over time, as you fell in love with Aemond even more and convinced him of your feelings, he began to feel less insecure.
The welcoming party disbursed as your family began to settle into the palace for their stay. Word of their arrival has spread throughout the Keep by now, and your grandsire Viserys ordered a large feast to celebrate not only the birth of your son, but the union of the entirety of House Targaryen under one roof. At first the plans made you anxious as you’d wanted a rather small dinner consisting of the royal family, but it seems there are other plans.
Normally you would get ready for such events in the confines of your shared chamber with Aemond, but tonight you opted to join your mother and Daemon in their chambers. Rhaenyra asked for your help in choosing her hairstyle and accessories, an act you once cherished as a child. As you help your mother, Daemon coddles your newborn in his arms.
“He’s quite the charmer,” compliments Daemon, who is wrestling with the babe’s free flying foot. “have you chosen an egg for his cradle, tala (daughter)?”
“Not yet, uncle,” you shake your head. “Aemond wants us to pick it out together, and I haven’t had the chance to make it to the Dragonpit as of late.” You finish the parallel braids in your mother’s hair, securing them in place with delicate pins.
“You must choose one before we leave,” he demands, not taking his eyes off your son. “I cannot, in good faith, leave my grandson knowing he has no dragon.”
Aemond appears in the chamber doorway dressed in his finest leathers. “I assure you, uncle, Taelon will have a dragon. I will make sure no son of mine goes without.”
You smile at him, taking him in for the glorious man he is. “Taelon is but a babe, sweet husband. He has no use for dragons except for our own right now.”
“Correct,” Aemond wraps one arm around your waist. “Though the sooner we choose an egg, the sooner the hatchling will come forth.”
Rhaenyra stepped forward to rest a reassuring hand in her younger brother’s shoulder. “Now's not the time to worry of such things. We’re here to celebrate Taelon.”
“Oh and celebrate we must,” you coo before scooping your son from Daemon’s arms. “Who wouldn’t want to celebrate such a handsome little face?”
The rest of the night went off without a hitch, everyone dining, drinking, dancing, and having fun. For the first time in a long time your family was collected in one room, children and all, enjoying themselves. It was well into the night when you excused yourself briefly to see Taelon to bed before returning.
You’d just settled yourself back into your seat next to Aemond when Aegon rose from his own chair. “I’d like to make a final toast,” he begins. “to Taelon, first of his name, may he grow to be handsome, healthy... and Strong.”
Aemond rises from his seat so fast the front legs lifted off the ground and it fell back onto the floor. “I’ll have your blasphemous tongue for that, ” he growled through gritted teeth. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword and he began to pull it from its sheath before rounding the side of the table to meet his brother.
“I dare you to repeat yourself.” Aemond hissed as he raised his sword to Aegon. The Kingsguard did not draw their swords, instead choosing to shield themselves and the eldest prince. “And it shall be the last thing you ever do.”
Alicent rushed towards her sons, getting in between Aemon and the Kingsguard. “That is enough!” the queen demanded, “Put away your sword, Aemond.”
You stand from your seat, tired of the insolence, and you join Aemond’s side. “Queen Alicent is right, husband. There is no need to sink yourself to such lows as this drunkard.”
The two of you returned to your chambers where Taelon slept soundly in his cradle under the watchful eyes of your lady in waiting and two guards Aemond picked for Taelon specifically. You dismissed all three, knowing the guards would take up their post outside your chamber doors.
Aemond begins stripping down to his night clothes and you begin doing the same, keeping a watchful eye on your husband. You knew the rumors of Taelon not being Aemond’s son was beginning to get to him even though both of you knew there was no other contenders.
As the two of you began to settle into bed, you scoot as close to Aemond as physically possible. He chuckles softly before wrapping you up in his arms. He kisses your forehead, then presses a string of soft kisses onto your hairline.
“You should ignore your brother,” you whisper into the darkness. “He’s a fool who knows nothing of what it means to be a dutiful and loving father as you are. I’m confident Aegon doesn’t even know the twins’ names.”
Aemond laughs, “I suppose you’re right, my love...”
You sit up, placing your right hand on the pillow next to Aemond’s head for support. He reaches up to brush the long strands of your unbound hair that has fallen around your face. “What ails you, husband?”
He hesitates, eye searching your face for any sign of deceit. “I’m afraid of failing our son. Mine own father was never a constant in my life, and I fear this leaves me unable to father our son properly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you whisper. “I’ve seen the way you watch over him. I mean, the way you protected him tonight against Aegon’s words, that proves you are more than capable than watching over our son. I’ve never doubted you from the day I told you I was with child. From that day forth your only focus has been providing for and protecting your family. You’re an honorable man, Aemond. And the most capable father.”
Aemond rises to press your lips together in a quick kiss. When he lays back down he pulls you with him, resting your head on his chest. This way you can hear the hard thump of his heart beating in his chest, a sound so rhythmic and comforting you can’t help but be lulled by sleep.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond fanfiction#aemond imagine#aemond one eye#aemond oneshot#aemond fluff#protective aemond#rhaenyra targaryen#mom!rhaenyra#jacaerys velaryon#hotd jacaerys#jacaerys strong#lucerys strong#lucerys velaryon#harwin strong#ser harwin strong#harwin breakbones#aegon ii targaryen#alicent hightower#mom!reader#pregnant!reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x you fluff#aemond x y/n#velaryon!reader
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in the beginning (part 2)
✢summary: in a final attempt to salvage the rift between your families, you suggest a marriage pact between you and and alicent’s second son (part 2 of in the beginning)
✢pairing: aemond targaryen/reader, 3.7k words
✢warnings: typical targaryen incest, possessive aemond, i think i write aemond in a darker way than what tumblr sees him as, add more lmao
✢a/n: hello everyone! i'm glad by the attention in the beginning got :)) thank you so much for your comments and notes and please do not hesitate to tell me how you feel about my work! your responses motivate me so much, thank you once again <33 there is no taglist for this fic, unfortunately. + gif isnt mine!
The next few days were a blur. True to your mother’s words, your trip back to Dragonstone had been postponed, though you were fairly sure you were to stay in Kings Landing indefinitely as Aemond’s wife. Once the news of your engagement has reached the ears of the realm, you have been subjected to endless congratulations from lords and ladies and their best wishes. Your brothers, on the other hand…well, you didn’t stick around for that.
“You can’t evade them forever, sweet girl,” your mother tells you. She has little Aegon beside her who runs towards you as soon as he spots you.
“Do they hate me?” You ask quietly. You sit on a bench outside of a balcony, wringing your hands. You despise the way you sounded so timid- so weak. At least Aegon is content and happy playing with your skirts, oblivious to any conflict within the family.
You hear Rhaenyra’s steps as she walks to you with a hand on her belly. “Hate you?” She repeats with a small laugh. “You have held Jace’s heart since the day he held you. Luke looks up to you more than anyone.” Her slender finger raises your head by lifting your chin and stare you down with her gaze. “You cannot avoid your brothers forever.”
You weren’t avoiding them…you just preferred to delay their inevitable reactions. Unfortunately, your mother was right. It was Jace who finally cornered you in the gardens, waiting for Aemond to finish his morning sparring.
“I’ve missed you.” Jace’s words cut through the tension first. Guilt floods your mind. Out of all your brothers, Jace was the one closest to you. You remember Laenor complaining as he was tasked to chase two toddlers around the keep, with one going the opposite way of the other.
“It’s only been a fortnight, Jace. I’ve…I’ve been busy with the preparations,” you lie and Jace looks at you with a knowing glare. You avoid his gaze instantly. “Where is Luke? He normally shadows you like a lost pup.”
Jace shrugs. “I’m sorry that it had come to this,” he whispers, walking towards you. A closer look on your brother tells you that he had run away from sword training early as there was a thin layer of sweat that covers him. “I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin during the dinner, I should’t have-”
“I know,” you reply softly. Jace takes a seat beside you and you lean on him instantly. Jace had been your first knight, your first protector out of anyone. “I shouldn't have hit Aegon, too.”
“I don’t like it,” Jace announces and it does not surprise you. Bad blood between the Princess and the Queen’s children are well known. “I don’t want you to marry him.”
“I don’t like it either,” you admit. Not yet, your mind whispers. “Brother-“
“You asked for this, did you not?” Jace asks, looking at you. “Mother told us- Daemon too. You asked for this marriage. He did too, back in the day.”
You twist your head to look up at your brother. You have not heard this before. “What do you mean?”
You feel Jace’s shoulders shake as he laughs. “This is not the first time mother had tried to broker peace with the Queen. I was to marry Helaena and you to Aegon,” your brother tells you and you nod. You had known about the failed efforts and the betrothals that she had offered. “Aegon had boasted your betrothal to Aemond that day and I had never seen him so angry-” Jace laughs heartily. “-Aemond was still a little thing back then, and half as talented with a sword but he still challenged Aegon to a duel.”
“For my hand?” You ask amused and Jace nods in reply. “He liked me that much?”
“And now he will have you.” Jace finishes, “all because you have begged mother for it.”
His stare bores down on you and you feel a sudden rush of anger surge in you.You lift your head out of Jace’s shoulder and stand. “You should be on your knees, thanking me,” you seethe. You briefly wonder if you resemble your mother the most angry. “I am cleaning up the messes you have made.”
“I am only scared for you, mandia,” Jace confesses, taking your hand in his. His tone quells most of your anger, and makes you feel as if nine again with Jace gently scolding you for a broken vase. “We were only children, after all.”
“He was also a child,” you frown.
“Do not act like you were not complicit in teasing him,” Jace warns, “He does not carry bad blood towards you because of some childhood infatuation.”
“I did not tease him by flaunting a pig to be his dragon!” You reason. You were once a child, eager to accept any sort of attention from your brothers and uncles and wary of any action that would lose their favor. You were torn once you were old enough to realize that they had chosen Aemond to be their victim when he had always paid such gentle care for you.
You regret it now, turning a blind eye to Aemond when he was clearly suffering, and guilt bubbles in your chest when you remember Aemond welcoming you into his chambers to play despite looking the other way when he was pushed and thrown to the ground.
You recall his glum mood when you entered his chambers in the afternoon holding two wooden dragons on each hand.
From his seat, Aemond shyly peaked at your approaching figure. You could not have hid the gasp that escaped your mouth when you saw his face. Aemond’s right eye was beaten and swollen blue while his other side had streaks of blood running down his cheeks from his forehead.
“Aemond!” You rush to him, dropping the wooden dragons on the floor.
In a panic, you reached for a nearby rag on his dresser and began your attempt to wipe the blood off of his face. At your touch, Aemond flinches before you realize you have had to be gentle in treating his face. Gentle like he was to you.
“What happened?” You asked, dabbing on the already dried blood that ran across his cheeks. You moved away to dip the cloth in a glass of water in hopes to wipe the blood off his face.
“I was fighting,” Aemond answers, leaning in as you came back with a damp rag.
“Fighting who?” You try your best to be even more gentle once you got the the wound on his forehead.
“Aegon.” He turns his head to look at you when he answers. “I challenged him to a duel to protect someone.”
Your face morphs into shock. “Aegon?” You demand. “He is twice your size! They must be pretty important for them to make you fight Aegon.”
Aemond does not offer you a reply, but you do not mind. His silence means the less his head will move and thus, the more you could clean his face.
“You must see a maester,” you say in defeat. You had gotten a closer look at his now cleaned wound, and though it would not need stitches, it needs a special salve that Maester Mellos keeps in his rooms.
“Aemond?” You call for his attention when you realize he was not listening. Instead, his gaze is focused on the door of his chambers. You follow his sight and realize he was staring on the floor where you had dropped your wooden dragons.
“Do you think I’d ever get a dragon?” He asks.
You were careful enough to hide your pitying stare when he looked at you. You had found that Aemond loathes pity, especially when talking about dragons. You had tried to express your sorrow for him once, but he only responded in anger. “Maegor didn’t have a dragon until he was twenty-and-six,” you offer instead. “He got Balerion after it.”
“I don’t want to be like Maegor the Cruel!” Aemond protested, his eyes misting up in tears. “Aegon tells tales of dragonriding, it’s all he talks about. It’s freeing, he says, and everyone looks like ants when you look below. I’d never get to experience it. Even Helaena has a dragon.”
You gasp audibly, as an idea pops in your head. You grasp his hand, tugging him out of the room. “We can ride Vermithor!” You tell him. “He was King Jaehaerys’ dragon, the biggest after Vhagar so he can definitely saddle two. Maybe even more!”
Aemond snatches his hands back. “I don’t want to ride Vermithor! He’s yours! He’s not my dragon.” Aemond’s face looks at you contorts in betrayal and hurt.
You realize he thinks you’re mocking him. “No, no-” you reach out to grasp his hands again in a desperate attempt to satiate his temper. “I- I only meant you can ride with me! So you could feel what it’s like! Besides…” you trail off, uncertain.
Aemond looks at you curiously and squeezes your hand. You relent immediately. “Would you like to know a secret?” Aemond nods and you pull him closer. “Mother says I’m not to marry Aegon anymore,” you whisper, darting your eyes around the hallway for anyone who might listen. “She says the King and your lady mother had chosen to betrothe him to Helaena instead.”
You look around the hallway again, missing Aemond’s small smile that he could not resist even with a split lip. “Maybe…” you continue. “Maybe she’ll tell the queen to betroth me to you next, that way you don’t need your own dragon because husband and wives share things. All that is his is hers, and hers his.”
“Truly?” Aemond asks.
You nod. “Vermithor can be ours,” you insist. “Whenever you want a ride, you can always find me and we’ll ride together, then you won’t need your own dragon anymore." You tug his hand down the hall with full intentions of running to the Dragon Pit. This time, Aemond did not resist. “Let’s ride our dragon.”
Aemond had screamed so loud as he rode Vermithor behind you, as the dragon flew as soon as he sat down on the saddle. His hands squeezed your waist tighter as he shouted louder while you held on to the reins tightly.
Eventually Vermithor’s ascent comes to a stop, developing into a smooth sail along the clouds. “Open your eyes, Aemond!” You command.
“How did you know I was closing them?” Aemond quips, hugging your waist tighter despite the easier flight. You had no doubt in your mind that his eyes remained squeezed shut.
“Open them!”
For a minute, Aemond is silent. You had half a thought to threaten him to his fall if continues to close his eyes, but before you could word out your threat he whispered softly, “Beautiful.”
Then you imagine he took in the sight of Kings Landing and Blackwater Bay on top of the clouds, admiring the tall structure of the Red Keep and millions of houses surrounding it. From here, he could catch the view of the Kingswood as it peeks at the horizon.
You couldn't agree more. “Indeed.”
He was looking at you.
The rare sight of your mother, Queen Alicent and King Viserys together greets you as you land. Alicent runs to Aemond as soon as Vermithor is escorted back into the pit, and kneels in worry as she hugs her son.
“I thought-” Alicent mutters, smoothing Aemond’s hair over and over. “I had thought the worst.”
“Don’t worry, mother.” Aemond says, with the widest smile on his face. “I rode a dragon!”
Your mother was the sole opposite of Alicent for she did not reek of worry, she radiated in anger. Nevertheless, she rushes to you. “What were you thinking?” Rhaenyra demands. She tugs your ear. “If Aemond had fell-”
“But he didn’t, sweet girl,” you felt the firm hand of your grandfather. Viserys looks down at you with a proud smile.
Behind you, your mother rolls her eyes. “Father, don’t save the damn girl. She’s spoiled enough as it is.”
“Ah, it’s her grandmother’s spirit, I tell you.” Viserys replies, his eyes twinkling at you in pride.
“Lady Alyssa?” You ask, already familiar with your grandfather’s tendency to compare you to his mother. “You and Uncle Daemon’s mother?”
“Yes, brave girl.” Viserys agrees with a nostalgic smile. “Have I ever told you my first ride on a dragon? I was no smaller than a babe when my mother, the Lady Alyssa…”
“If there is any penance we could do, sister, we would do it.” Jace’s voice tugs you out of your memory.
“I am the penance, Jace.” You say, frustrated. “I am the punishment. Our marriage will close the rift that we have opened.” It is not fair- none of it is. You try not to dwell on your situation too much lest you’d be tempted to thrash and throw an unladylike tantrum. If only you, Jace, and Luke were kinder to Aemond, if only Aemond didn’t lose his eye, if only your lady mother and lord father had other children-
“Have you seen his left eye, sister?” asked Jace. His tone is unrelenting and stubborn, too hurt from the reminder that a marriage needed to be born over childhood games. “I hear he has a sapphire in place of it. Some say he exchanges the gem to each day.”
“Jace, please,” You plead quietly, mindful that even in private gardens Kings Landing has ears. You cannot let them see anymore cracks of your house. “I am not asking you to be friendly, I’m only asking for civility for my sake, if not, for the realm.”
Jace holds your stare almost challengingly, before a voice rings out from the other edge of the garden.
“Betrothed,” greeted Aemond.
Your head whips to the direction of his voice. He stalks over the two of you like a tiger, each step a calculated move of restraint. He has grown so much now that Aegon could steal no victories in challenged duels, and you were sure he would fare well against Jacerys despite being a few years younger.
Aemond’s eye glinted in the sunlight as you see it roam your figure before slowly looking at Jace beside you. “Brother,” Aemond greets maliciously with a smirk upon his lips.
Jace gives a tight lipped smile that almost looks painful. He regards Aemond with a curt nod. “Not yet.”
Your head turns back to face your brother with a glare and he meets your gaze in equal rebellion. You echo your previous plea to him in your head desperately as if he could hear your thoughts. Before long, Jacerys relents and breathes out a sigh.
He extends an arm to your head, bringing your forehead close and presses a soft kiss on your temple.
“I was just leaving, brother,” Jacerys says as he steps away from you. It was not the best response he could have given, but you did ask for civility and not sudden camaraderie. You give him a grateful smile as he turns and walks away.
“Hmm,” was all Aemond had to say as he saw the silent batte between the two eldest children of his sister. Wordlessly, he offered you his arm which you graciously accepted and he led you to the opposite side of Jacerys’ path, walking you deeper in the gardens of the Red Keep.
For the past two weeks, it had become a habit for you to wait for Aemond to finish his morning lessons with Ser Criston Cole and you would roam the Red Keep’s halls with your arms in his. Sometimes he surprises you with courting gifts. Once, he had given you a necklace embedded with huge sapphire stones and little rubies surrounding it.
“For your Velaryon and Targaryen blood,” Aemond explained, as you turned and raised your hair. His fingers were gentle as he hung the necklace around your neck.
“Why bother with these courting gifts?” You asked. “I am to marry you anyway.”
“A reminder to the others,” he simply replies.
You try your best not to snort. You had almost smirked in amusement once Aemond had presented you with the necklace. You pretended not to notice that the shades of the sapphires were far deeper than the color of your father’s house, but instead perfectly matches the shade of his left eye. You would not be surprised if the sapphires were cut from the same stone to what was in his face.
Despite your initial reaction to the betrothal, you had found yourself charmed at the gesture- not that you would openly admit it.
“Jacerys is fond of you,” Aemond says after a few moments. He had said nothing as you strolled through the gardens until now. “He is incredibly protective.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes at Aemond’s hypocrisy, with the weight of your sapphire necklace sitting heavily on your neck a screaming reminder to anyone that you were spoken for. “He is my brother,” you reply instead, clutching Aemond’s arm. “My first knight before any of the others.”
Aemond gave another hmm, offering no reply until minutes later when he asked- “Does he fuck you?”
You halt immediately, eyes widening at the accusation. You blink at Aemond once trying to understand if you had heard him wrong. Aemond’s gaze looked at you expectantly.
“What.” It came more of a statement than a question.
“Does he fuck you?” Aemond calmly repeats, tugging your arm to continue your walk. If you weren’t too bewildered, you would have noticed the slight tremble in his hand.
“He’s my brother!” You protest, disgusted. Your face contorts in what you would imagine your expression would be if you had bitten into a lemon.
Beside you Aemond scoffs. “As if that has ever stopped our family before.”
You tilt your head in consideration. Well- he’s not wrong. “He doesn’t. He wouldn’t dare,” you answer. “He is a gentleman to a fault. The only women he can talk to freely are me and our mother.”
Aemond’s eyes squint in thought. “Has he ever bedded a woman?”
“Why are we discussing Jacerys’…bedroom activities?” You snap. You do not want that image in your head, especially since his rooms in Dragonstone are directly beside yours. “Please remind me.”
Before you knew it, you had arrived at the courtyard where Aemond had been before he came to you at the gardens. Aemond slows down to a stop.
“Tell me, my lady,” Aemond whispers as his nose trails your jaw. He has caged you in his presence behind a pillar in the courtyard. “Have you ever touched a man?”
You hitch a breath as you feel his hand clump your dress’s fabric, slowly pinching it up, up, up. You feel the summer breeze on your now exposed leg. Your eyes frantically roam the courtyard, wary of any person that was unfortunate enough to pass by, all the while Aemond’s face remains close to you.
You can feel every breath he takes and he lets out as he leans further in you like Aemond was taking a good sniff.
“It’s alright,” he coos, his free arm patting your hair. “I admit I have lain with a woman before.” Your eyes snap to look at him, almost insulted. How dare he tell you this like you aren't his betrothed? You get the sudden urge to rip the necklace off you and throw them on the ground only to see his expression.
But it seems like your anger fuels him more. “Aegon dragged me to a brothel,” Aemond explains, trying to placate you. “If I had known you were to be my wife I’d turn any woman away. So- tell me, my lady, have you?”
Aemond looks at you with a smiling look but you are still wary.
“I have,” you admit quietly and Aemond’s face drops.
“With who?” He shakes as he asks you this, his fist shaking as he holds your dress.
You see the Targaryen madness poets speak about your family in his violet eye that glints of violence no matter what you will say. The madness had killed the builders of the Red Keep,
“A stableboy. In Dragonstone.” Your voice is a whisper as your own eyes look up to him nervously.
“A stableboy?” Aemond repeats, his eye glinting once more before your hand clamps on his wrist in a panic. Aemond’s hand has suddenly wrapped around your throat, squeezing threateningly. There was no dangerous pressure- not yet- but his hands shake like he wants to snap your head off.
“Aemond-” you try to plead but he is far gone.
“You sullied yourself for me,” he whispers incredulously, “for a stableboy?”
“You have fucked a whore,” you seethe as you feel his hands tighten.
Immediately, his hand is gone from your neck. His palm cups the back of your head and pushes it to his chest where he lays his chin on it. “It’s alright,” he whispers, all traces of malice gone from his voice. You feel the vibrations of his voice on your head. “With a mother with three bastards and a brother with hundreds more, we didn’t know any better did we?”
You try to rip yourself off him, insulted at his remark at your mother but his hand remains firmly behind your head. Aemond cages you with his palm and his leathers.
“Shhh,” he whispers. You feel his fingers leave your dress as his palm makes contact with your thigh. You feel your eyes flutter as his hand roams your leg, his fingers gently caressing up, up, up-
“My prince, my princess.”
The way Aemond turned around to face the approaching servant was comically elegant, if his hand were’t so near your cunt just moments before. You try to calm your heart that was beating so loud that you were certain the servant would have heard it.
“There are dressmakers ready for you in your chambers.” To your dismay, the servant’s gaze turned worrisome at the sight of you. “My princess, are- are you alright? Shall I fetch the maester? You’re face is burning.”
“Oh,” You chuckle awkwardly, a hand coming up to your face. “I didn’t realize-”
“The princess is cold. No need for any maesters,” Aemond answers swiftly, before turning to you. “Come, my lady,” he coos mockingly with the devilish smile like he could hear the rapid beat of your heart. “The dressmakers are waiting.”
Absolute cunt.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd imagines#hotd season 1#hotd x reader#dragons#game of thrones#got x reader#aemond oneshot#aemond imagines#Aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen headcanons#aemond headcanons#aemond targaryen imagines#house of the dragon aemond
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can you imagine coming to your chambers after a long day. you find aemond reading by the fire and you just need to release some of the stress to focus on something other than the world outside so you just move in front of him drop to your knees and start undoing his pants. the only distraction you want right now is his cock in your mouth.
⎯⎯ PRETTY, PRETTY ┆ navigation. masterlist.
𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: after a long, tedious day at court, you long for the comfort of your husband − and something else…
༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ warnings: minors dni. smut, canon!aemond 𝓍 wife!reader, afab reader, profanity, slightly mean!aemond (but he’s obsessed with his wife, trust me), [male] oral sex, degrading & pet names.
𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒔 ༘ ࣪𓂃 ෆ sry this took so long to write out… i didn’t know which direction to go in − i hope u love it nonetheless. ♡!
AEMOND ALWAYS ENJOYED WATCHING YOU − his one-eye focused solely on your pretty face, devouring you once again, silently admiring your sleepy, doe-like eyes blinking up at him innocently, the slope of your cute nose, your soft, flushed cheeks from the burning fireplace behind you, the light glaze of dew on your gorgeous skin from the heat of your martial chambers − gods, you were just so pretty, his pretty, pretty little wife.
fucking perfect, he thinks.
aemond also loves watching the way the tip of your soft, little pink tongue pokes out and gently kitten-licks the flushed tip of his hardening cock, teasing him into growing harder − and oh, fuck, the way your plush, pouty lips wrap around him now, suckling just the head of his cock has him let out a low, murmured curse, unable to stop himself from bucking up his hips, allowing his now fully hard cock to slip further into your mouth, nearly gagging you − however, you don’t seem to mind.
little minx, he calls you inside of his head.
in fact, you seem to enjoy his aggression, owlishly blinking up at him with those pretty doe eyes of yours, as if giving him permission to fuck your throat, making something dark and twisted inside of him release a soft, satisfied purr.
without any warning, you begin taking him deeper into your mouth, the tip of his leaking cock hitting your uvula, making you softly gag as your eyes begin to sting, but you continue on − you continue moving your mouth down, down, down until the tip of your nose nuzzles the neatly trimmed thatch of soft, platinum curls at the base of your husband’s well-endowed cock.
you hum, whimpering as you harshly hallow your cheeks, sucking and slurping at his cock messily, like you were born and bred just to do it − to sit prettily on your knees before your husband and allow him to fuck your mouth, to use your mouth whichever way he desires.
after a few minutes of this constant suckling motion, you do need a moment to breathe properly, pulling back only just slightly and wrapping one of your soft little hands around his glistening shaft, shining with the mixed essences of your saliva and his precum.
you quickly begin pumping him, hearing your husband grunt and curse, one of his big, masculine hands—calloused from his constant use with his blade—roughly bury his long fingers into your luscious locks, his one-eye heavy lidded and focused solely on you, his lips parted just slightly, panting for breath as his taut stomach tightens with the need for release.
without stopping, you continue suckling his leaking tip, swirling your tongue around it quickly, tasting him and humming, hearing him hiss from the vibration of your mouth, “fuck! fuck, have mercy on me, woman!” he growls, yanking on your hair in warning, but you don’t stop.
only, you increase your pace as you fiercely suckle just the tip of his cock, hallowing your cheeks and releasing his shaft from your hand, beginning to quickly bob your head up and down, up and down, up and down, repeatedly and fluidly, listening to your husband’s groans − as though he is in pain, but he is far from it.
as you continue to bob your head on his cock a few more times, taking him deeper each time, you reach up with the same hand you were pumping his shaft with earlier and begin fondling his heavy balls, hearing aemond let out a sharp breath, his blunt fingernails scratching your scalp, making you purr.
“fuck, you little fucking harlot,” he hisses, fisting a handful of your hair and begins to guide your bobbing head even faster than before. “just like that − mmh, fuck, your mouth…! made to suck my fucking cock,” aemond gasps, squeezing his one-eye shut tightly, feeling his balls tightening up almost to the point of pain.
then suddenly, you feel it − long, salty ropes of your husband’s seed, shooting down the back of your abused throat, making you moan breathily around the mouthful of his cock, doe eyes pooling with unshed tears and your soaked thighs pressing together beneath the fluffy skirts of your evening dress.
“that’s it,” aemond coos, keeping his cock lodged down the back of your throat, your nose pressed snuggly against the wet curls surrounding the base of his cock, your throat pulsing around him, making him groan loudly as he continues holding you down on his cock for a moment longer, until he is positive that every drop of his seed is dripping down your throat.
“take it all, that’s a good girl,” he sighs, feeling utterly spent, “we shan’t let a drop go to waste − after all, ‘tis royal seed you’re swallowing, sweet girl,” he continues mockingly, before finally releasing his harsh hold on your hair, which you take great advantage of and pull back, going into a small coughing fit, your tears finally spilling down your flushed cheeks, a small whine escaping you.
the corner of aemond’s mouth twitches, a small, amused smirk curling up on his lips, “awh, did i fuck your little throat too harshly, sweetling?” aemond asks, giving you a mocking pout.
you can only whimper and give a tiny nod of your head, pouting as you reach up and wipe away your tears, making aemond release a low, breathless chuckle, before tutting and gesturing over towards your martial bed.
“get on the bed and allow your beloved husband to return the favor.”
fin
#⠀࣪⠀ׅ ♡ ⠀࣪𓂃#༯ venus’s works ༘˙𓂃𑁤#hotd#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen drabble#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond oneshot#aemond one eye#aemond fanfiction#aemond fandom#hotd aemond#hotd imagine#ewanverse#ewan nation#ewan mitchell
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His Lady Wife
aemond targaryen x reader
author's note: eek this is my first angst fic and i have no idea if its good so please leave comments and feedback!! its very loosely based off othello with ofc aemond as othello and the reader as desdemona. this can be read alongside my other aemond x reader but also can be read alone!! i am working on part two for my other aemond x reader but i'm struggling w ideas so please drop me a message if you have any!! also please comment if you'd like to be added to my aemond x reader taglist <3
genre: very angsty, prepare for tears
the love between aemond and his dear wife would be in the history books one day, he was sure of it. there would be songs, poems and ballads written about the ardent love between them. a love which their great, great grandchildren would aspire to have. their love was refreshing in the court, all the other marriages were ones of duty but theirs was one of love.
that was until everything tumbled down. when you first became with child, you were estatic, you ran to tell your husband, who was over the moon. however, rumours had spread of your infidelity, that you had laid with one of the knights of the kingsguard and that you were pregnant with a bastard. at first, aemond didn't believe it, his beloved wife would never do such a thing. but he started to let his self doubt overcome his love for you.
"have you seen the knight? he's a far better swordsman and far better looking than the prince, you can't blame the princess."
aemond became overcome with jealousy and insecurity. it made sense to him, why would someone as perfect as you be with something as blemished as him.
then there was the stocking incident. one of your stockings, with your initials on it was found where the kingsguard trained which led everyone, including king aegon and prince aemond to believe you to be unfaithful.
you were walking in the gardens when you saw your husband. you had a smile on your face whilst your husband barely made eye contact with you. "what is it my love, you have been ignoring me?" you asked with concern evident in your voice.
"do not call me your love when you are carrying anothers bastard." aemond replied sharply.
"you do not believe the rumours? do you? aemond i love you, you know that? please don't do this." you took a step back and could feel your voice falter.
"i have arranged for our chambers to be separated. your maids will know where it is they will take you. the king was ready to have you killed but your family are needed." he said quickly and walked straight past you. it hurt him to see that he hurt you. he wanted to go back and apologise but his pride and insecurity got the better of him.
being isolated took a toll on you and your pregnancy. you were struggling greatly with no husband or friends in court other than your handmaid who you appreciated greatly. you saw how your mother was when she was pregnant and she wasn't anywhere near as unwell as you were. you were going to send a letter to your parents asking for their guidance but decided against it, you didn't want your father to storm down kings landing. breakfast, lunches and dinners you would spend alone in your small chambers as your husband refused to be in the same room as you, which hurt you greatly. you loved aemond so dearly, you went for spending to everyday together to months apart. most days you would spend weeping in your chambers praying to the gods for any form of relief. you preferred staying in your chambers than walking around court. you would recieve stares, looks and laughs from everyone around. it broke your heart, you had good relationships with everyone, with alicent, otto, daeron, haleana and even aegon, who would refer you to as his "good sister". now they don't even look in your direction.
it was his nephews nameday celebrations which hurt you the most. you played the role of the perfect wife, in the perfect relationship which almost had you believing that aemond was still in love with you, that was until he whispered in your ear that it was all a pretence.
but that didn't stop you from loving him. though you wished it did, maybe it would hurt less if you didn't love him anymore. at whatever opportunity to ask about his wellbeing you would, you even went as far as asking his mistress, who took pity on you and kept you updated. you still prayed for his health every night and prayed that the mother would take pity on your soul and relieve you of the pain.
although aemond was smart, he wasn't as smart as his grandfather, the hand. otto had his doubts regarding the infidelity rumours he had his child spies keep tabs all over westeros and after eight months of digging, he found the truth.
"speak up boy, tell the king what you heard"
the young boy bowed to the king before the hand's spy told the council what he heard,
"the rumours regarding the princess' infidelity were created by daemon and his old whore."
aemond looked up in shock, he felt his blood boil as he held the arm of his seat tighter.
"it was said that daemon knew the easiest way to seperate the greens was through his "fickle nephew" and that once word of the princesses disrespect reached the riverlands, they would switch alleigances to the blacks."
an uncomfortable silence hung the room. all eyes were on aemond who felt a mixture of anger, guilt and distraught. he spent the past 8 months slighting and hurting his chaste lady wife. the king knew his brother well enough to know how his mind was racing,
"i promise you brother we will take down the blacks. you will be the one to take our wretched uncle yourself i swear this to you brother."
once again silence befell the room. aemonds face was unreadable. the council sat in fear of his reaction as his mother held his hand in hopes to calm him down.
"eight months. for the past eight months my lady wife has been with child with my child and i have not spent a single day with her. the lady wife who loved me so loyally has spent eight months confined to a chamber not fit for a princess because of that pathetic cunt. no, his death would not satisfy me. i need more." the calmness in aemond's voice evoked a deep fear in the room. daemon's doing caused aemond's beloved to suffer at his own hand, they all knew that aemond would not rest until she was avenged. "as for now i need to see my lady wife."
as aemond got up from his seat, a maester and midwife covered in blood, sweat and tears entered. the only lady pregnant was his wife. his heart dropped. this couldn't be happening.
"your graces. the princess entered her labours a moon early-"
before the maester could even finish, aemond ran out of the room and straight to his wifes pathetic excuse of a chamber as fast as his legs could take him with ser criston his mother, grandfather and both his brothers close behind him. when he saw the limp body of his once beloved wife he fell to his knees.
"no, no, no. wake up my love, my love please. my love i am so sorry. please no my sweet girl come back to me, open your eyes once more, you do not need to forgive me my love, i will spend the rest of eternity at your feet please just come back to me. i was wrong my love, i'm so so sorry." he cradled her dead body, begging for her to awaken, praying to every and any god to bring his sweet girl back to him. he was overcome with guilt and anguish, the last memory he had with her ended with her heart shattering.
it was two months ago. you had a feeling that something was wrong with you or your babe but none of the maesters in court believed a word you had to say since the rumours.
"please aemond just listen to me for a second, i need to see the maesters in my fathers home, they will know what to do, they saved my mother once before." you begged aemond as you trailed after him with abnormal aches in your body.
"why? so you can run off to your father with that bastard and face no consequences? no you will stay him and have that bastard here and face punishment from the king himself." there was no mercy in aemond voice or gaze. he saw the way your face and body crumpled. his words cut deeper than any blade and you couldn't hide it. he felt a pang of guilt in his heart but he pushed it aside.
aemond felt the bile rising in his throat after remembering his last encounter with you. gods he would do anything to turn back time and fix things. he was so fixated on ignoring and avoiding you that all good memories of you were distant.
"i do not remember the sound her voice mother. i do not remember the sound of the voice that spent countless nights whispering sweet nothings to ail my troubled mind. i do not remember the delicate touch of the lady who dedicated herself to comforting me." aemond confessed with a heavy heart, staring and clutching on to his wife's cold body.
"please aemond do not do this to yourself-"
"do what mother? torture myself? torture myself as i tortured my wife? as if carrying a babe was not torture enough, i tortured her even further by abandoning her when she needed me the most. she had no one apart from her one handmaiden and tis no ones fault but my own. how could i doubt her? how could i be so foolish? the last time we spoke, she insisted that something was wrong with her or the babe and i ignored her. i killed her mother."
"yes, yes you did my lord." spoke up your handmaiden with your newborn daughter sleeping soundly in her arms.
"you can cut my tongue, kill me do whatever you like with me, my loyalties are not with you but the the princess whos blood is on your hands. she loved you so dearly, yet you turned on her with no hesitation after hearing baseless rumours. her father was ready to have his men pledge alliegance to the blacks after hearing your treatment towards his only daughter but she told her father that it was all lies spread by the blacks and that you still loved her. she prayed to the gods everyday that once the babe was born and you would see how that it is your trueborn child you would love her once more. but now she is longer with us and she died with a broken heart."
as ser criston drew his sword ready to cut the throat of the maid, the prince piped up,
"leave her be ser criston. she said no word of lie. no harm should come to the only lady who stood by my beloved's side when she was alone. i am in debt to her. you are free to leave my lady, i will ensure all provisions are made for you."
"as kind as your offer is my prince, i promised the princess that in case of her untimely death, i would remain beside her daughter until her eighteenth nameday and to hand you this letter." aemond looked up for the first time since he entered the cursed chambers as your handmaid passed the baby to his mother
"i have a daughter?" his voice trembled. you both always dreamed of having a daughter and whilst he wanted his youngest child to a girl, you wanted the eldest to be a girl. but that dream was now thwarted.
alicent choked back a sob as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms. "she's tiny aemond. she has your targaryen hair and eyes but she is her mother through and through."
he was lost for words. he couldn't fight it anymore as he began to sob as he cradled your body just the way his mother cradled his babe.
"read the letter out loud my lady. i treated my wife terribly there is nothing left to hide."
your handmaid was hesitant at first but read your last letter to your husband out loud.
"my dearest husband, dear husband,
you recieve this letter due to my untimely death but our child lives on. i do not know if this is news is joyous for you or one of regret but please do not take your hatred for me out on our child. i know our child will look like you as i have never laid with another but i am unsure to if you will ever believe me.
when you remarry and have other babes of your own, ensure that they all love one another and that their stepmother loves them the same. if you cannot ensure this, send our child to my parents, where they will be cherished.
please remember the love we once shared and share that love with our babe. i know that you may not want to to keep the portraits of us and of myself, but i beg of you to do so, even if its just one of myself. i would like for our child to know what their mother looked like. regardless of what happened between us, it hurts to say that i still love you as i did when i first fell in love with you. i hoped it wouldn't end like this but the gods work in mysterious ways.
your lady wife."
no one could hold back their tears. aemond knew the letter would hurt him, but knowing that she died thinking that he hated her, that he would remarry and that he may even celebrate her death killed him. he thought that the stranger visiting him would be less painful than what he was feeling at that moment.
"leave me be, i would like to say goodbye to my wife alone."
as he gazed upon her sleeping face, it set in to him that he would never wake up to her again. he would never hear her laughter again. he would never see her smile again. he pushed her hair back behind her ear as he used and pressed his forehead against hers. he could no longer fight the tears as his voice broke whilst speaking to you one last time,
"how could i ever hate you, my perfect girl? you have been nothing but good to me. you, who showed me what love is, you who made this pointless life worth living, how could i celebrate your depature. i love you my sweet girl. i love you so so much. and how could you think i would ever remarry, my darling? you captured my heart and now you've taken it to the grave with you. i cannot explain how sorry i am, gods i hope somewhere somehow you can hear me. i pray that the gods punish me for the way i hurt you. i allowed my anger, jealousy and doubt get the better of me. i was a fool to not trust you. you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't be like this in my arms, we should be in bed, choosing names for our babe who shouldn't have been born yet. who looks just like you by the way. she's the only reason why i'm still here. for her. for you. i will tell her the stories of her one of a kind mother, i pray to the gods she'll be just like you. i will have even more paintings comissioned of us, of you my angel, anything you desire. until next time, my dearest lady wife, i love you."
as aemond laid her cold body down back on the bed, tucked her in and kissed her one last time, he found a small box under her pillows. it was covered in blood from her labors but it was still wrapped like a gift nonetheless. he opened to find 3 matching necklaces. one fit for a man. one fit for a woman. and one fit for a baby girl. all with a sapphire in the middle.
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#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd#hotd season 1#house of the dragon#prince aemond#aemond the kinslayer#hotd thoughts#aemond stannies#aemond oneshot#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen angst
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Sour Switchblade
No sooner has she landed in the courtyard of Storm’s End, she knows her mission is doomed // Main Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (daughter of Rhaenyra)
Warnings: 18+, smut, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, Targcest (uncle and neice), threats of violence, bit of blood, dub-con, breeding kink
Words: 4100
A/n: Also available on AO3. Inspired by my current obsession with this song.
She knows where she is the moment she reaches the skies above the Stormlands; this part of the world was not named in irony.
She clutches tightly to Silverwing’s reigns, dragon and rider fighting through the fierce winds and heavy rain that stings the skin of her cheeks.
Lucerys and Arrax would have never made the journey. They are both too small, too young to take on such a burden as messengers on the eve of war. Jacaerys should have the more arduous task ahead of him, to fly to the Eyrie and then to Winterfell, to earn the support of the Arryns and the Starks to their mother’s cause.
She has one destination, one objective, one Lord to win over. But no sooner has she landed in the courtyard of Storm’s End, she knows her mission is doomed.
She hears Vhagar’s call, or rather feels it reverberate in her chest, before she sees her. She is a monstrously large dragon, the oldest of her kind. Only her head and neck loom over the battlements, but it is enough to terrify the Princess.
Because with Vhagar comes Aemond.
He had hardly spoken so much as a word to her during the petitions for Driftmark, but his eye never left her.
She pushes aside any childish ideas of hope for a civil encounter with her uncle. Any love between them was severed the night he claimed his dragon and Lucerys claimed his eye in the tunnels below Hightide.
Her name is announced to the Round Hall as she trails in behind an escort of guards. Rain drips from her soaked leathers and hair, the braid she wore long blown apart by the wind. She clenches her jaw, determined not to shiver in the presence of the Lord of Storm’s End, or the one eyed Prince who lurks at the edge of the room.
Aemond stands with his hands clasped behind his back. For a moment she sees surprise in his gaze, but it soon settles into a smug smile, his single eye positively gleaming through the miserable light of the hall.
Beside him is a young woman, dressed in all the finery of a Baratheon Lady. Her suspicions are confirmed when Lord Borros mentions a marriage pact.
She can’t stop herself. She looks to Aemond, knowing full well she is doing nothing to hide the fury in her face. And he stares back, like a hunter stalking prey.
She has nothing to offer Lord Borros, nothing that could compete with such a match. Her brothers are either betrothed or too young.
But she cannot fail, not when Rhaenyra has lost so much already these past few days.
Aemond’s eye remains fixed on her, vaguely amused, but still alert and intent. Perhaps he believes he has found a weakness, perhaps the shark smells blood.
If memory serves correctly, Lord Borros’ wife passed some years ago.
“I offer my hand to you, my Lord,” she says. “Pledge your banners to the true Queen, and your sons will be Princes.”
Lord Borros brings his fingers to his beard, muttering into the ear of his Maester and nervously glancing towards his other royal guest.
The amusement has faded from Aemond’s face, his moment of triumph snatched from him. Even the mere consideration of her proposal undermines him.
His chin is tilted down now, his eye dark and lips pressing together to withhold a sneer. She revels in it, taking a breath to stop herself from smiling.
“I will need time to consider,” Lord Borros says. “I will make my decision known on the morrow.”
Aemond takes one step towards her before she is whisked away by the eldest of the Baratheon sisters, Cassandra, and no less than four guards. Cassandra takes her arm in hers and leads her through the castle to a guest chamber, in a tower that overlooks the courtyard and Shipbreaker Bay beyond that.
A bath is drawn for her and a gown of black with gold embroidery laid out of her to change into. It seems unusual to see herself in these colours, but then again, her grandmother, Rhaenys, is half Baratheon.
Dressed in her gown and with her hair newly done, she watches Silverwing seek shelter from the Storm under the battlements. Vhagar is apparently sleeping, with her wings cradled over her body to keep out the rain.
Silverwing would be miserable here, she thinks. A dragon needs clear skies, they cannot always fight against the wind and rain.
It’s hard to tell exactly when the sun sets. There are no warm colours in the sky, no streaks of orange or gold. The sky beyond the storm clouds fades from grey, to indigo, and then to black.
Lady Cassandra escorts her to the Round Hall for supper. It is a modest affair. Lord Borros’ advisors and bannermen sit at tables in the heart of the hall, while a high table is set before the Stone Throne. Lord Borros sits at the centre, with two empty spaces either side of him. She might guess who they are for.
She sits between Lord Borros and Cassandra, and finds just enough time to steady her nerves with a sip of wine when Lady Floris enters with Aemond on her arm.
She swallows her mouthful wine thickly, meeting her uncle’s gaze for only a moment out of courtesy.
He takes his place beside Lord Borros and the meal commences. Servants bring out whole roasted boars, and given Aemond’s reaction to the suckling pig at dinner in the Red Keep, she refrains from moving her mouth or looking in his direction. In fact she hardly has an appetite at all. She sits with a stiff spine, glancing down at the plate of potatoes and greens placed in front of her.
Lord Borros asks her a question which immediately slips her mind. It occurs to her she’s supposed to be winning him over, to prove to him that she will be a good and dutiful wife. A better wife than Aemond will be a husband for Floris anyhow.
The thought churns her stomach and leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.
She allows herself another glance to Lord Borros’ other side. Aemond’s head is close to Floris’. The light from a candle on the table flickers over his chin, his jaw, the top of his neck underneath his collar. He leans in closer to mutter something in her ear.
He was always so softly spoken as a boy, subdued, even in moments of frustration. He still seems subtle, but in a different way now, a quiet kind of arrogance, a silent threat with the smallest of gestures. The few words he had spoken at that dinner, though aimed as insults towards her brothers, had ignited a thrilling sort of intrigue within her.
And now Floris gets to sit beside him, gets to feel his breath on her ear as he whispers in that low, chilling voice–
“Princess?”
“Y-yes?” she stutters, turning her eyes back to Lord Borros.
Only she seems to have caught the attention of Aemond and the other Baratheon girls now.
“I said our union should be a plentiful one, if your mother’s talent for producing sons is anything to go by.”
The only thing that stops her from reaching for her knife and jamming it into Lord Borros’ neck is the quiet huff of a laugh coming from Aemond.
She shoots him a deadly glare but his cruel smile does not waver.
“The man who eventually claims my niece’s hand will have Strong sons, there’s no doubt about that,” he says, reaching for his cup.
She watches him drink, the way he pouts his lips, how his throat bobs as he swallows.
“What a kind compliment, uncle,” she says, “though not one I could extend to you.”
Aemond sets his cup down gently. “Meaning?” he asks, not looking at her.
“It took you a decade to claim a dragon, did it not?”
His head snaps towards her. “Yes, and I claimed the largest dragon in the world.”
“An impressive feat,” she says, “one your father was proud of, I’m sure.”
He wants to lash out, she can see it, his fist clenching on top of the table, his lips pursing together, his eye going wide, his nostrils flaring as he takes a few breaths to compose himself.
The rest of the table has fallen to an uneasy quiet. She simply reaches for her wine and takes a generous sip that slips over her tongue with a delightful burn.
Lord Borros calls for music, and his daughters, Cassandra and Ellyn find partners to dance with. Maris remains seated, with her arms folded over her chest and a sour look on her face.
Floris seems hopeful, sitting up and trying to catch Aemond’s eye from his blind side. It is a hope he will not entertain. He keeps one hand on the table, tapping a long, slender finger against the wood.
“You will forgive me,” Lord Borros says to her, “I am too old to dance now.”
She tries to smile to hide her repulsion. What an endearing match she’s managed to find for herself. But this is for her mother– her Queen, so that the throne might pass to the rightful heir and not a usurper.
In the corner of her eye she sees Aemond is watching her, and she does not shy away from his gaze. His lips curl into a smirk but she can see the calculations and strategising behind that piercing, violet eye.
What lurks on the other side, she wonders, underneath the leather eyepatch and the scar slicing down his face?
A bloody mess of flesh flashes before her eyes. She remembers how he cried out in pain, how he clutched his hand to his face, how the thick, dark blood seeped from between his fingers and spilled onto the floor as he fell. She had only watched dumbfounded, as Lucerys dropped the blade, as she and the other children were ushered into the Hall of Nine, as the gash in Aemond’s socket was sewn and their mothers both called for justice.
Could she have stopped her cousins from confronting him? Could she have defended him from her brothers? Would he have at least felt some of her sorrow if she had gone to him that night or wrote to him in the years that separated them?
Those possibilities mean nothing now. Aemond looks at her with no warmth, no fond memories of their shared youth.
He’d be handsome without the scar– he still is, but it is a severe kind of beauty.
The moment she manages to finish the food on her plate, she excuses herself, declaring that she is tired from her journey and will need to recover before Lord Borros makes his decision in the morning.
Lord Borros presses a kiss to her hand, and she winces at the way his beard feels against her skin. When she looks to Aemond, he is suppressing a smile by bringing a cup of wine to his lips.
She walks quickly through the halls, towards the guest chamber, already taking off the heavy gold earrings and necklace she had been adorned with, and sighs at the relief of their weight. The sooner she can get to sleep, the sooner the morning will come, then the sooner she can finally leave, either a success or a failure, but she will be free of him. Free of the tight, restless feeling in her chest.
The enduring storm does not help her nerves, the rain beating down and the wind howling against the castle walls. Her heart leaps at every irregular noise, anything that might be mistaken for a voice, a breath, a footstep. She glances over her shoulder repeatedly, but all she sees are the empty hallways she leaves behind.
Two guards wait outside her chambers. They do not move to open the door for her, as they would on Dragonstone. She huffs and pushes it open herself, falling against the door once it is closed.
Borros Baratheon is hardly a man of principle. He has no love for Rhaenyra, and is only considering offering his support out if pride. She has no friends here.
She quietly turns the lock on the door.
She heads to the vanity to set down the jewellery and release the pins from her hair, watching it fall around her shoulders.
Outside the window, she hears Silverwing’s lamenting coos through the clashes of thunder. She reaches behind her back to undo the laces of her gown as she goes to the window, but she cannot spot her dragon through the dark and the heavy rain.
“We’ll be home soon,” she whispers into the night.
She nearly screams when she hears the door rattle.
The wood clashes against its frame, but the handle does not budge, for now.
She barely has a few moments to run to the vanity, hand outstretched and eyes fixed on a long, sharp hair pin when she hears the door burst open. It slams and heavy footsteps thud against the floor, towards her.
A hand clasps over her mouth before she can make a sound. An arm wraps tightly around her waist, keeping her arms by her sides, before she can reach the closest thing she has to a weapon.
She thrashes, squirms, tries to call for help or graze her teeth against the intruder’s flesh but nothing deters him.
She looks down at the arm around her waist. She recognises the black leather sleeve of his jerkin, the wide palm pressing down on her stomach, veins and tendons running underneath pale skin.
He rests his chin on her shoulder, so his long, silver hair falls around her face. He smells of smoke and lavender.
He lets out a frustrated huff as she unsuccessfully tries to jerk her elbow into his side. “Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm, trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?” he hisses against her ear.
She squeals in fury against his palm, trying to twist her way out of his grip. She manages to drag him with her until their sides collide with the vanity. Pieces of priceless jewellery and bottles of perfume fall to the floor, and shatter.
She has a mere second to wrench herself from his grip, only for him to grab her again, turning her to face him as he pulls her into his chest.
Aemond’s expression is deadly, his eye wide, lips pressed together in a scarcely contained rage.
“The throne belongs to my mother,” she says through the drumming in her chest, with all the defiance she can muster. “She is the one true heir. King Viserys–”
“Viserys is dead!” Aemond bellows, pushing her back against the vanity. “His word means nothing now that he can no longer enforce it.”
With her hands suddenly free she attempts to strike him, but he sees her intention before she even moves, pinning her wrists to the wood, keeping her body in place with his own.
She clenches her fists, only able to dig her nails into her palms. “What is it that you want from me?”
Lightning ignites the sky behind her. The white light dances over his scar and the shape of his mouth. His expression is softer now, lips slightly parted.
“I will have what I am owed,” he says.
Her eyes flicker to the eyepatch and the edges of the scar it cannot conceal.
Aemond hums a small laugh at her presumption. “Fear not, dear niece, that is not your debt to pay.”
His gaze trails over her face, then lower, to her lips, along her neck, to the gown slipping from her shoulders and the bare skin at the top of her chest.
“Do you remember what you said to me, the day you left?” he says softly.
The children they were are almost half a lifetime away.
She remembers standing under the weirwood tree in the Godswood of the Red Keep, a warm breeze rustling the red leaves above their heads, the sun shining through the branches.
She remembers holding Aemond’s face in her hands, wiping away the bitter tears as they fell from his eyes.
He had begged her not to leave, but they were powerless then.
He is the one to bring his hand to her face now, running his thumb over the lone tear that spills from her eye.
“I said I loved you,” she utters. “I said my heart was yours, and it always would be.”
Aemond hums softly. “You made a promise to me,” he says. “Do you intend to keep that promise?”
How can she? She would have to forsake her mother, her Queen, her brothers, the realm, her own dignity.
“It was a childish infatuation,” she says.
“Not to me,” he says, fury creeping into his voice once more, his grip on her hand tightening.
She pushes her one free hand against his chest but he does not budge. “Aemond, please, you’re hurting me…”
He presses his body into her, forcing her further against the vanity– a warning, a command for obedience. He trails his thumb over her cheek, to her lower lip, taking her chin in his fingers. When she tries to look away he brings her eyes back to him.
He leans in gradually, pressing his forehead and his nose against hers, before he takes a steady breath and captures her lips in his. His kiss is starved but slow, bruising, deep and desperate. The hand that was on her chin comes to her neck, angling her head precisely where he wants her.
His hands trace down the back of her neck, between her shoulders, to pull at the laces of her gown. They fall apart between his fingers and, barely breaking away from her, he tugs it down until the black and gold fabric falls to her ankles. He lifts her out of it, seating her on the vanity, raking the hem of her shift up to her thighs so he can place himself between them as he continues to kiss her.
A dazed sort of warmth pools within her. She can feel her senses and her sanity slipping.
But he cannot best her, not after everything that has happened in the days since the King’s death.
She grazes his lip with her teeth, and when he seems to welcome it, she clenches her jaw as hard as she can.
He tears himself away from her and staggers back, bright blood dripping from his mouth. She can taste it on her tongue.
“Little cunt,” he hisses.
She slips the hairpin into her hand and runs for the door. Aemond catches her in a few strides but she’s ready for that, turning to drive it into his blindside.
Even then he misses nothing, holding her wrists behind her back with one hand and snatching the pin from her grasp. She hears it clatter to the ground as Aemond drives her forwards, towards the bed.
She lands face down and tries to lift herself up, only to feel his forearm pressing into her neck to keep her down.
“You were always stubborn,” he says, planting a delicate kiss to her shoulder, “and as exciting as that is, I want you to be good for me, dōna riña.”
The iciness in his voice sends a shudder down her spine.
“Say it, say you’ll be good.”
Hit tears prickle in her eyes. She shifts underneath his hold, but her urge to fight is already fading. “I’ll be good, qȳbos,” she whispers.
Aemond’s chest hums with a groan. At last he relents, releasing her neck and her hands. But no sooner is she free, he turns her onto her back and slides his hands up her thighs, hooking his fingers over her smallclothes and bringing them down her legs.
“Up,” he says, dragging her by her hands to sit, so that he can pull her shift over her head.
She cannot be sure why she’s shivering, the cold air, the noise of the storm, or the hungry look in Aemond’s eye at the sight of her bare body.
She keeps her hands on his shoulders as he lays her down and trails his fingertips down her stomach, to the obvious arousal at her core.
With a lingering kiss to her cheek he presses a single finger inside her. She gasps at the sudden sting of it, digging her nails into his skin.
But he reaches deeper than she’s ever been able to, stroking against the flesh within her, until she starts to melt. He edges her closer and closer to bliss until she comes undone around him with a whimper.
“Sȳz riña,” he coos against her cheek. “That’s it…”
She tries to cling onto him as he moves away, but he is not gone for long. He swiftly undoes the buckles of his jerkin, followed by his shirt, boots and breeches. His body is lithe and lean, harsh angles and soft skin.
She glances at his eyepatch again.
Aemond lets out a low, irritable “hmm,” as he looms over her. His hair falls around his face, tickling the skin of her collar. He leans on one palm placed by her head, as he drags the tip of his cock through her folds, teasing between her bundle of nerves and her entrance. The sensation burns brightly and has her hips bucking, but it’s not enough.
“Beg me for it,” he utters.
“Please,” she whispers, cupping his face in her hands, feeling her thumbs along the sharp edges of his cheeks. “Please…”
He pushes into her with a single stroke, filling her to the hilt with a soft sound of skin against skin.
She winces at the stretch, throwing her head back against the bed and trying to steady her breath as he rocks into her.
He’s gentle at first, but before long he is restless.
“I knew you fucking wanted this,” he pants, gripping at her waist to pull her in with every snap of his hips. “You little whore, I can feel you getting wetter.”
She should hate him for it. There is so much she should hate him for, but she cannot think past the pleasure tightening and rising within her, the sound of Aemond’s laboured breaths or the lewd, wet sounds of their coupling.
His hands grab at her legs, positioning them against her chest so he can fuck her harder and deeper.
“Oh gods,” she whines as he pushes against a spot that makes her feel weightless.
“Take it bastard,” he hisses, pressing his forehead against hers and wrapping a hand around her neck. It’s not enough to hurt, but it’s enough to know it could. “Fucking take it.”
She is sure it’s too much, his hold on her neck, his breath over her lips, his body pressing against hers as he pounds into her without mercy.
“I’m going to fill you up,” Aemond rasps, “return you to King’s Landing with a Prince in your belly.”
His promise sparks a new feeling entirely, her cunt clenching around him as her voice becomes a slur of desperate, wanton moans.
“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you, ilībõños? Want your uncle to give you a silver-haired babe?”
“Please,” she mewls, placing her hand over his, “please, qȳbos,”
With a few sharp, brutal thrusts, her body erupts with her climax, until she is a moaning, quivering mess.
Aemond’s jaw hangs open as he fucks into her through his own release, until every last drop of his seed is buried within her.
He keeps himself nestled within her, positioning them properly on the bed, hooking her leg around his hips, keeping her body and her head close to his chest.
Her eyes flutter closed, lulled by the soft sound of his breath and the gentle thud of his heartbeat.
But the pleasant glow of her peak cannot last forever.
“I can’t go back to King’s Landing,” she whispers against his skin. Not now that Aegon has claimed the throne, not now that her mother is amassing her banners and the Greens are doing the same.
Aemond takes her chin his fingers, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Did you think I’d ever let you go? You’re mine now, dōna riña. That is what you've always wanted, is it not?”
She helplessly traces her fingers along the muscles of his arm, held tightly around her.
Perhaps she did want that, once.
“What of the Stormlands? What of our duties to our families? What of the war?”
Aemond silences her with a delicate kiss to her lips. She lets it soothe her, for the sake of a love once lost, for a moment of bliss in a world unfurling into chaos and bloodshed.
“Lord Borros will pledge his banners to Aegon or I will burn Storm’s End to the ground,” Aemond mutters between their kisses. She can already feel his cock beginning to harden once more inside her. “And no one will keep you from me, my sweet, strong girl.”
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I am Yours, You are Mine -Aemond T.
This is an A/B/O fic. You have been warned.
Everyone knew, they had always known.
It wasn’t hard to figure out from what I assume, my mothers children are all boys with brown hair and brown eyes, I have white hair and purple eyes. Everyone knew my older brother Jace and my younger brothers Luke and Joffrey were Harwin Strongs children and just like that, everyone knew that I was the daughter of Daemon Targaryen.
Laenor hadn’t been able to give my mother a child and I looked nothing like him, Daemon however…I’m told I’m the spitting image of him. So while I am technically a bastard, I’m also full Targaryen, so I was never treated like it. I was born only 5 moons after Aemond was and therefore was raised with him in a way, as we grew up his older brother Aegon and my older brother Jace got close, at least closer than they were to us and Aemond got picked on a lot. He didn’t have a dragon, and while I didn’t either, everyone knew to leave me alone, whether it was because I was a girl or because I was Daemons daughter I don’t know. My father is the only current Targaryen Alpha in the world and that made people so much more terrified of him than they already were.
Most people in the world present as Betas, it’s normal and no one really thinks twice about it, an Alpha however is a blessing from the Gods. He will be stronger, and tougher, and defend your family better than a Beta can, at least that’s what people believe, an Alphas instincts being so much stronger than a Betas, the only presentation stronger still is an Omega, and an Omega is considered a blessing from the mother herself. Presentation happens around puberty but usually you can see certain traits in children to tell if they will be anything other than a Beta, my mother believes I will be an Omega because even with a father like Daemon I’m quiet and sweet, always the most submissive in the room which for a Princess is a good thing.
Aemond and I spent more and more time together as we got older, him being shunned from the group with his older brother and mine, along with Luke who followed them around like a puppy and didn’t mind getting pranked once in a while. Aemond was the smartest of all of them, he enjoyed learning, and training, but most of all, he had no dragon. Neither of our dragon eggs hatched and the both of us bonded over that, and I always tried to make my uncle feel better when they had been particularly cruel, like the day they gave him a pig instead of a dragon. We skipped dinner that night and sat together in the library for hours just talking. He was my best friend, and my closest ally in the world, we made promises to always be there for each other.
The promises of children never seem to last though…even if the children weren’t the ones to break them.
After Joffrey was born mother moved us back to Dragonstone, me kicking and screaming, clinging to my uncle who held me just as tightly until our mothers gave up. We had a small second of hope as I wrapped my arms around his neck and he held me to him so tightly it almost hurt. That’s when our mothers called for their guards and we were yanked apart harshly and I was carried all the way to the ship that would take us home.
We weren’t apart for long after that, my fathers wife dying in childbirth brought us back together for her funeral. As soon as I saw him I pulled away from Jace and ran to Aemond who held me close and breathed in my scent as I did his, it was a comfort that only we seemed to give each other. I stayed by his side holding his arm while everyone spoke about Laena, saying kind words about a women I barely knew while my “father” stood in the ocean below, crying for the Gods only know how long.
Aegon was with us for some time, watching the maids and being his normal vile self and eventually we were alone, speaking as if no time had passed at all. That moment as we sat on the steps talking would be one I regret for many years to come, watching Aemond as he gazed at Vhagar. I knew my uncle wanted a dragon, more than even I did and I told him he should go, as the sun went down and people filed inside to bed, I encouraged him to mount her while he had the chance. 2 hours later I was awoken to a knight running into my room to check on me and seeing I was in bed and fine. I followed him downstairs to my mothers relief, Luke was bleeding from the nose, Alicent was angry beyond belief and my uncle and best friend sat with a maester stitching his eye up. I moved to his side quickly, taking his hand in my own and holding it tightly, allowing him to squeeze it as he got stitched up and everyone continued screaming. I didn’t care for the politics, I didn’t care for the threats, or insults, only that my favorite person sat beside me maimed and my brothers had done it. I stayed by his side for the rest of the evening, even as the maester gave him milk of the poppy to be able to sleep, snuggling into his chest and feeling his arms around me as he slept soundly and all the while I felt sick to my stomach knowing that what Jace had said to me when I hugged my mother had been completely true… ‘This is all your fault’
I was taken from Aemond’s bed late in the morning, he had awoken to eat and been put back to sleep, all the while clinging to my hand. My mother took us home immediately, we went back to Dragonstone and so did Daemon who quickly married my mother as soon as Laenor passed.
Jace and Luke were quick to blame me for everything, knowing that I had encouraged Aemond to mount Vhagar, maybe if I hadn’t he would still have his eye and I wouldn’t have had to leave again. Maybe Rhaena wouldn’t despise me for “helping to steal her mothers dragon” even if I don’t believe you can have claim to a dragon if it hasn’t chosen you. Jace and Luke spent all their time with Baela and Rhaena and I was left alone, not wanting to be near my brothers to hear about how much they and Aemond despise me, how the only person I had ever truly loved besides my mother wouldn’t even write to me anymore no matter how many times I wrote him apologizing. My mother and father were the only people I ever spoke to anymore, Daemon practically claiming me as his own even if he couldn’t “officially” do that and I learned that being alone is better for everyone, especially once I presented. Jace, Luke, Baela and Rhaena had all presented as Betas as expected but I was “blessed” to a life as an Omega, suffering through my heats alone in a locked room, only maids to bring me food and try to relieve my pain which never worked.
I was 15 before I was truly blessed with anything in my life, out for a walk by myself, having escaped my guard and stumbling upon a dragon. The Grey Ghost was a name given to a shy, pale dragon, one I never hoped to even get a glimpse of in my life and I suddenly had, his eyes locked on mine as if waiting to see what I would do and so I reached into my bag to get the bread I brought with me and the fish I planned to cook on my little adventure, tossing them to him and watching as he snubbed the bread and ripped the fish apart. I had sat down on a boulder, watching as he ate, assuming this would be the only time I would ever see this elusive creature but it wasn’t. He had laid down to nap after eating and the next day he sat at the same spot as I brought him an even bigger fish. That went on for nearly 2 weeks of me bringing him food and talking to him before he approached me and allowed me to touch him, letting me mount him after that. I kept him away from the pits, away from everyone who only saw him when I went flying, knowing he was just as comfortable around people as I was, which was not at all. I even had all of my riding gear dyed as close to his color as I could, making it truly impossible for anyone, even another dragon rider to find us in a cloud bank. Daemon was impressed, believing it was a useful skill, especially for an Omega to be able to hide like that. Life continued on like that until Corlys’ injury, resulting in all of us needing to return to Kings Landing to fight for Luke’s inheritance. I was less than enthusiastic about going but my mother forced me onto the ship.
In Kings landing once again I was stuck with Jace and Luke as mother and Daemon wanted to go see Grandfather, forcing me to follow them to the training yard that I hadn’t seen since I was a small child. Everyone’s attention was on a fight in the center of the yard and I pushed between Jace and Luke to be able to see, seeing Criston Cole fighting a young man with an eye patch and knowing instantly that it’s Aemond, and that he is winning, dodging the mace repeatedly before his blade was at Cole’s throat and I ducked behind Jace and Luke, catching a very strong Alpha scent as I did and feeling my stomach twist into a knot.
‘Nephews. Have you come to train?’ He questioned and I knew they were no where close to as good as he is, he would kill them. They had continued training but not very much and Aemond is clearly quite passionate about it. ‘Niece, lovely to see you again…or smell you I should say, and what a lovely scent it is. Hmm?’ I blushed darkly, not moving from behind my brothers until Jace turned and pushed me to walk back the other way.
‘I would stay close if I were you sister, wouldn’t want to be alone with him, would you?’ Luke teased and I wanted desperately to strangle the cocky little bastard but the last time I had hit him I’d given him a black eye and made him cry like a bitch, mother made sure I knew Omegas should never be violent, especially when they’ve been trained by Daemon and could make a man feel emasculated enough to be murderous.
I sighed, rolling my eyes and following them inside, finding my room as quickly as I could and locking the doors. I sat on the windowsill and stared out over Kings Landing, seeing a dip in the clouds and knowing my dragon had followed us, it was a comfort in case I needed an escape and knowing my family, I definitely will.
I stayed in my room until my mother came to get me, walking all of us together down to the throne room where I stayed as close to my father as I could, feeling men’s eyes on me, flinching from one who leaned in to smell me making my father turn and glare down at him, the man moving to the other end of the room quickly. I held onto his belt as Otto Hightower spoke, feeling eyes on me and knowing Aemond was staring as well. That same Alpha scent was back and my stomach felt like it was quivering as the wonderful smell assaulted me. My attention was only drawn when the doors opened to reveal our grandfather looking rough…half dead honestly as he walked into the room, stumbling up to his throne, Daemon helping him as he dropped his crown and leaving me exposed with no one to hide behind until he came back. I watched on, thoroughly entertained as Vaemond shouted about Luke and Jace being bastards, and actually couldn’t contain my snort as Daemon cut off his head though as expected nothing happened to him and Luke keeps his inheritance.
‘Now, if we’re through with this useless event, I think we can-‘
‘Actually my King, if I may?’ Otto asked, approaching the throne and mumbling something to him quietly.
‘Are you sure? Rhaenyra! Why was I unaware of your daughter presenting as an Omega?’ The King asked and my blood ran cold, Daemon pushing me completely behind him.
‘She was not ready for every noble man in the kingdom to be vying for her hand Father, I was protecting my baby. I apologize if you think I’ve hidden it from you but that was never my intention.’ She explained.
‘My girl, this is wonderful! Otto is right, there’s no need for anyone to look for a husband when we have a perfect Targaryen Alpha right here. Honestly I always did believe Aemond and Y/n would end up marrying, they were so sweet when they were babes.’ I backed away from Daemon, moving around the crowd and moving towards the doors the maids use to get to the kitchen quickly. ‘My son, you will take Y/n as your wife, do you have any objections?’ The King asked and I waited a moment, waiting for him to start yelling, or begging to get out of it…but he didn’t.
‘It will be my honor Father. Thank you.’
‘Well then it is settled, there will be a wedding, right here tomorrow night-‘
‘Tomorrow?!’ My mother exclaimed.
‘I’m a sickly, old man Rhaenyra, I would like to witness their union before I pass on. You can afford me that, can you not?’ He questioned and I knew my mother would cave at that as I got to the door, pushing it open quietly.
‘Father, I would like to request one thing. Since it must be such a quick wedding, I would like to do it in the traditional Valyrian custom.’ Aemond asked and I took pause.
When we were children we discussed just this, we talked about how we would be married one day and I told Aemond that I wanted to do it right, in the old customs. Since the day I learned of the traditional wedding I thought it was beautiful and I wanted it more than anything, Aemond promising me the perfect wedding. The idea that he remembered and even cared enough to request such a thing brought tears to my eyes.
‘I don’t see why not, I leave it to my wife and daughter to sort out the details with the bride and groom.’ My mother and the queen? And they want me in the middle of that? Fuck no.
I turned, leaving out the door, quickly running down the corridor and into the kitchens which were busy making dinner, allowing me to run through quickly and out another side door. I just made it to the gardens and down the steps, hiding in the bushes when a guard rushed out after me. ‘Princess! Princess! Your mother demands your presence!’ He shouted, running into the garden while I crept out and down the side of the castle. One good thing about growing up in a castle, you learn how to get around quickly and unseen.
I looked up to the sky, hoping to see my dragon, knowing exactly what he looks like now that I’ve spent so many years by his side and on his back. ‘Come on Ghost! Where are you?’ I questioned, getting down the stairs to the front of the castle, peeking around the corner to see many guards and I quickly moved around the wall and past the gates to the plaines where I knew Vhagar rested by the water. I kept far away from the resting place of the nearly 2 centuries old dragon and whistled, seeing the grayish white color separate from the clouds and dive down towards the ground, landing just ahead of me and just as he nudged his giant head into me in greeting a voice stopped me.
‘Byka Zaldrīzes!’ I froze, knowing only my uncle had ever called me that. He had since we were kids and I was trying to comfort him when he was upset about not having a dragon. My child brain figured, I’m a Targaryen, I can be your dragon and it made him laugh so hard he couldn’t breathe. He called me Little Dragon ever since. ‘Where are you going to go?’ He asked, not yelling…not even seeming angry.
‘Home…’
‘Going home already, and I didn’t get a hello or a goodbye. I admit, I had hoped for a different reaction.’ He stepped closer, Ghost growling but not doing anything more as I shushed him to keep him calm. ‘You used to be excited by the prospect of us being married.’ That wonderful Alpha scent came over me again and I could no longer deny that it was him I was smelling, though deep down I knew it was. ‘You can’t even look at me?’ His voice held more emotion now, upset at the idea I couldn’t face him.
‘Please Aemond, please stop this? You don’t want to be married to me, there’s no point in whatever you’re doing…’ I told him, turning to face him and I couldn’t deny how beautiful he is. I had always found him cute but he had become incredibly handsome the past 9 years.
‘You dare tell me what I want? You?! After all of this time?! I have always wanted you Y/n and I always will, nothing will change that apart from you telling me you no longer love me and that my face is too much for you to accept as your Lord Husband.’ My eyes widened and I took an unintentional step forward.
‘Aemond, you are beautiful, you always have been! No scar changes that, and it could certainly not change the way I feel for you-‘
‘Then why do you run from me? Why have you spent 9 years not answering my letters? Why do you find it so hard to look me in the face? Why-‘
‘Because it’s my fault!’ I shouted, unable to take his questions anymore. ‘Because if I hadn’t encouraged you it wouldn’t have happened, no one would have fought, you wouldn’t have lost your eye! It’s my fault! And Jace and Luke, they tell me all the time and I don’t want to hear how much you hate me! I don’t want to hear you lie and tell me I ignored you, I wrote you every day for months! You never responded and I don’t think I can handle hearing how much you hate me Kepa…I can’t…’ the tears were now streaming down my face like crazy and as I reached to wipe them away he grabbed ahold of my wrists, forcing me to look at him.
‘You think I blame you?’ His voice was so soft it actually startled me. ‘Y/n…first of all I never got letters from you and I’m realizing you didn’t receive mine either which I’m assuming was your brothers but Gods Y/n! I have Never blamed you for that night!’ His face was so serious and hard I knew he wasn’t lying.
‘Never?’
‘Not for one second! You are the only one who gave me any kind of comfort, everyone else was either scared or angry, but you just held me. I loved you so much in that moment I thought my heart would explode! Waking up next to you in the morning, in so much pain, but you were there to make me feel better…then you were gone. My Little Dragon was gone and I couldn’t even speak to her, and now I come to find out you’re carrying guilt that has never been yours to hold! Your brother did that, not you, Luke! He chose to pick up that blade and slice my face, not you! And Vhagar was no one’s to claim, she chose me and I chose her, and yes you helped make me feel better about it but I was going to go to her no matter what you said…please let go of that guilt, my Princess?’ I nodded, sniffling as he let go of my arms and used his thumbs to wipe my eyes before leaning close and pressing his lips to mine. ‘You’re mine Byka Zaldrīzes, all mine!’ He swore, kissing me again, harder this time and pulling me flush against his chest. ‘My Little Dragon is going to be my wife, the mother of my children, my perfect little Omega…Fuck you smell amazing!’ He groaned, digging his face into my neck and inhaling deeply.
‘That’s enough!’ A deep voice shouted and Aemond jumped but I knew exactly who it was.
‘Father, you ruin everything.’ I teased and he just smiled as he got closer, Ghost rumbling in irritation at how many people are here now, seemingly willing to deal with my Alpha and that is all. ‘Did you take my letters?’ I asked and he instantly looked confused.
‘What?’
‘The letters I wrote Aemond, and the letters he wrote me, we never got them. Was it you? I am asking you despite the fact that you’re the least likely…I’m going to kill Jace…and Luke.’ I told him and he seemed irritated.
‘If they really did that, then they will be punished, I assure you. However right now, we need to get you back inside and help your mother plan a wedding.’ I hesitated but nodded my head, moving to follow Daemon and he turned to walk away as well just as I pulled away from Aemond and climbed onto Ghost.
‘Y/n, what are you doing?’ He laughed.
‘You think I’m going to mediate our mothers? Not gonna happen, by this time tomorrow we’ll be married or they’ll be dead, but I won’t be in the middle. Bye father!’ I shouted, hearing Ghost rumble. ‘Sovēs!’ I commanded before he leapt into the air and began climbing towards the clouds. ‘You saved my life, you know that?’ He screeched and I snorted. ‘Not really I suppose, but it wouldn’t have been fun…at all.’ We stayed like that, flying contently over the clouds for several minutes before Ghost seemed agitated and I turned to see the shadow of a large dragon above us causing me to push Ghost down before seeing Vhagar behind us, Aemond laughing while Ghost complained. ‘Not Funny Kepa!’ I shouted, diving after him as he turned to land on a nearby island.
‘I like it when you call me that, Princess.’ He told me as we both got our feet back on the ground.
‘Really? I would have thought you would hate it. My father does, it makes him feel Old when my mother uses it.’ I laughed and he just snorted, laying out his jacket for me to sit on so I could be comfortable.
‘He is nearly 20 years older than your mother, of course he hates it. When you say it, it just excites me.’
‘Hmm, well then I will refrain. Wouldn’t want to excite you too much, would we?’ I leaned into his side and he wrapped his arms around me, Vhagar laying down behind us and Ghost wanting to lay his head on my lap but I wouldn’t let him with Aemond here too.
‘I knew you would be a perfect little Omega, I just knew it. So perfect Y/n, and all mine.’ Aemond’s nose trailed through my hair and I loved the feeling.
‘Not yet Kepa, you need to wait to say that until we’re married-‘
‘Are you going to tell me that you belong to someone else, Omega? Because I will remove their organs.’ He threatened. ‘I’m already keeping myself from killing your brothers so save yourself more problems. If any man has dared put their hands on you-‘
‘Aemond!’ I exclaimed, laughing as he went on his tirade. ‘No one has touched me! Jace tried once when I went into heat the first time but I smacked him so hard his ears rang for a week. I love the possessive attitude but no one has touched me.’ I teased him, giggling as he trailed his nose over my scent gland, groaning.
‘Good, because I would’ve killed them. I told you before, you’re all mine Byka Zaldrīzes, Alphas pretty little Omega.’ His lips wrapped around my scent gland, sucking on my neck and making me cry out. ‘Oh, such sweet little sounds you make for me, my good girl.’ He teased, pushing me onto my back and laying over top of me, arm circling my waist. ‘I’ve waited so long to have you under me like this, to have to wait one more day is torture.’
‘You will survive Kepa, no one will keep us apart again…I am yours, and you are mine. Forever.’ I trailed my fingers up his jaw to his cheek and removed his eyepatch, dropping it to the ground and taking his face into my hands, his eyes closing as I held him.
‘Should they try, I will set this whole world on fire my love. No one will dare take you from me again.’ His voice was firm and fiery, every bit the Dragon that he was always meant to be.
As he leant down, I turned my head and let his lips touch my cheek. ‘We’re not yet married Aemond.’
‘Surely you can afford me a kiss, we will be married by this time tomorrow, don’t make me wait to kiss you one moment longer.’ I had to giggle at the way he made it seem like a life or death situation. ‘I had your first when we were only 8, I would have your last before you’re married.’ His fingers trailed over my cheek as I blushed a dark red before I leaned closer and felt his lips on mine. They were soft and warm as he held me close. I touched my fingers softly to the scar under his eye, hating that he had had to suffer so much pain and I couldn’t even be there for him, or even write to him. ‘I am sorry this is the face you must look at for the rest of our marriage, I-‘
I glared up at him and flicked his nose hard before he could finish speaking. ‘You will not speak ill of the man I love that way! Do you hear me? I care very little about a scar, I’m just sorry that I could not stop it.’
‘Little Dragon-‘
‘All this scar shows me is how strong and tough my husband is. It tells me that I will be safe in his arms and bed, and that our children will never know the feeling of danger…I love you Aemond.’ I could see the unshed tears in his eye that I knew he would never let fall and I pressed my lips to his again.
‘I love you Y/n. You are mine, and I am yours. ‘
For everyone who asked me for more Aemond content as well as those who asked for more Alpha/Omega fics.
I hope you liked it, cause I loved writing it!
Aemond Targaryen Masterlist
#house of the dragon aemond#house of targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd dragons#hotd season 1#hotd aemond#hotd smut#hotd imagine#hotd x reader#aemond oneshot#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#prince aemond#aemond x oc#aemond smut#aemond x niece!reader#aemond x targaryen! reader#ewan mitchell#a/b/o fic#a/b/o dynamics#alpha omega#alpha beta omega
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Can u imagine Aegon slapping someone's ass but then she turns around and bam, Aemond's wife 🤡
He slapped her ass. Ass of Y/N. Ass of Aemond's beloved lady wife. Aemond saw. He may not kill but that doesn't mean Aegon will get away with it
hahaha listen I had to write this Anon message into a fic it's too funny...(post writing edit) Aemond got more angry than I thought he would so enjoy him popping off I guess!
Aemond x wife!reader | Protective Aemond | Run, Aegon, run
The night was growing late, and the goblets of wine quickly emptying. Especially Aegon's, you noticed, with a roll of your eyes. You glanced over to where your husband sat at the end of the long oaken table, catching his eye and sharing an aggrieved expression as Aegon called loudly for the serving maid to return.
Aemond's angular face was set in a stern expression as his violet eye flicked back to watching his brother, half rising from his own seat as Aegon stumbled to a stand. "More wine! Bring that serving girl back...the one with the large tits!" His face was flushed, and he could barely stand for how drunk he was.
You sighed, shaking your head as you moved toward where Aemond had his place at the table. Aegon stumbled forward, still in pursuit of his favorite drink as you brushed past him. You felt a blow to your rear, sharp even through the fabric of your skirts as Aegon smacked a hand to your ass, groping you a moment before letting go.
The small dining hall fell silent, even the musicians ceased their playing, all eyes looking in shock at what had just occurred. You had to take a moment to fully register what had just happened...as did Aegon by the look on his plastered face as you slowly turned to face him. His bloodshot eyes widened as they took you in, quickly swiveling toward where Aemond was now standing.
"Aemond I-" Aegon hastily began to defend himself but was silenced when, with all the might you could muster, you smacked an open palm across his face in a stinging blow. "Fuck. Fuck!" Aegon stumbled back, clutching his cheek with both hands. "You vicious little bitch!" The drunken prince, eyes darkening, took a heavy step toward you, his hands curling into fists.
In a blur of movement that sent you stumbling to the side, Aemond was between the two of you, his hand grabbing the collar of Aegon's shirt to yank him close. "You forget yourself, brother. That is my wife." Aemond hissed into Aegon's face.
"I don't care if she's Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, she hit me!" Aegon protested, trying to free himself from Aemond's iron grasp.
With an almost animalistic growl, Aemond dragged his brother across the room toward the exit. The other people in the room watched with wide eyes and whispered behind their hands as they went.
"Aemond!" You called, hurrying to catch up with the two men, resisting the urge to rub at your sore rump.
You had a very real fear that your husband was about to murder his elder brother, especially as Aemond slammed him against the stone wall of the empty corridor outside the dining hall.
"Gerroffme!" Aegon writhed, choking a little with the force of Aemond's grip.
"Aemond!" You grabbed your husband's elbow, trying to ease the pressure he was applying to Aegon's throat.
"Apologize." Aemond seethed, his teeth bared, heedless to your tugging at his arm.
"I thought she was a servant!" Aegon gasped. "I would never-you know I wouldn't touch your wife knowingly!"
"Maybe you should stop assaulting women altogether, Aegon." You said severely, suddenly thinking Aemond was applying just the right amount of pressure to his throat.
"You will apologize to my wife and every other woman you have touched against her will." Aemond pressed his brother harder into the wall. "Which is quite a long list."
Aegon was silent, weighing his options, fighting to breathe, his hands still scrabbling at Aemond's forearms. His lilac eyes flitted to your face, he fought to control the sneer that itched up his lips as he looked at you. "I am sorry."
"Aw, you mean it?" You deadpanned, glaring daggers at him.
"Touch her again and-"
"Yes yes, I will regret being born. Can you let me go now, I can't breathe, Aemond."
With a sound halfway between a snarl and a sigh Aemond turned his head to look at you. You nodded. "Let him go."
Aemond abruptly released Aegon, making no moved to help him as he almost crumpled to the ground. "Make your apologies and pray I don't catch you harassing anymore girls." Aemond spoke, his voice deadly calm. "Spend your desires in the brothels you like so much."
"Fuck you." Aegon spat on the ground at Aemond's feet. "When did you become such a champion of women's honor?"
"Since I married Y/N." Aemond took a menacing step toward him, causing Aegon to shuffle backwards instinctively.
You grabbed Aemond's hand, coaxing him back to you. Aegon looked ready to spit again but thought better of it. Instead, he shook his head, derision written all over his face as he turned and stomped back into the dining hall.
"Are you alright?" Aemond brought your interlocked fingers up to his lips. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"I...no. He just surprised me is all."
"I could kill him sometimes."
"He's your brother, Aemond."
"The bane of my existence."
You laughed. "Like I said: your brother."
He smiled at that, finally relaxing a bit, his hand still firmly around your own. He reached around with his other hand, caressing your aching backside carefully, ducking his silver head to place a kiss to your mouth.
"If he treats all maids in the Red Keep like that..." You shook your head.
"He's done much worse." Aemond nodded, face grave as he studied you. "It is passed time for it to end."
You squeezed his hand, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as Aemond drew you closer into his arms. "If there's anyone who can, hmm, convince him to stop it's you."
"I hope you're right, my ember."
The two of you remained in the empty corridor, entwined, breathing in the comforting scent of one another for quite some time. You didn't return to the dining room, instead making your slow way hand-in-hand back to your chambers where Aemond called for a steaming bath to be poured. The hot water and firelight welcoming you, but nothing was so comfortable as the feeling of Aemond's warm arms around you, always holding you close to his heart.
#aemond fluff#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond fanfic#aemond drabble#aemond oneshot#aemond imagine#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fluff#aemond stannies#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond one eye x reader#hotd x reader#aemond fanfiction#prince aemond x reader#hotd aemond x reader#hotd aemond#house of the dragon imagine#hotd imagine#hotd drabbles
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The softest whisper (Oneshot)
[ Aemond • Targaryen x servant! • female ]
[ warnings: virginity loss, oral sex, angst, smut, cheating, toxic relationship, toxic behaviour, objectification ]
[ description: Aemond, on the orders of his brother, arrives in the Red Keep and notices that a new, young girl has appeared among his servants. Wanting to fill his time, he summons her to his chamber and forces her to read to him. His time to return to Harrenhal is approaching, and he is less and less willing to part with his new property. Sexual tension, angst, very dark Aemond. ]
This oneshot have an alternative ending: The dearest embrace
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
My other works: Masterlist
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Ever since the war began he had felt that piece by piece he was losing parts of himself; even the knowledge that Alys would bear him his child, his bastard son, didn't brought him joy or solace.
He felt both contentment and disgust at the thought of his heir from an illegitimate bed.
He thought the gods were laughing at him from the heavens, mocking his hypocrisy.
After Luke's death, there was no turning back.
He returned to King's Landing reluctantly, at his brother's request – he preferred to stay in Harrenhal, pressing Alys with his body against her bed, the brutal thrusts of his hips pushing apart her hot, slick interior, always welcoming him home.
Alys was an intelligent, witty woman, and her visions made her mysterious and disturbing in his eyes.
He was attracted to her.
There was a darkness in her as deep as his own.
His brother, however, decided that he was to attend the next meeting of the Small Council and report personally on how the battles were going, what their situation was like in the north of the kingdom.
Therefore, he arrived on Vhagar late at night and informed his servants that he wanted to take a bath.
His order meant that his other servants who were already asleep had to clothe themselves in haste and rush to him, filling his tub with hot water.
He watched their movements with a blank stare – his pupil narrowed like a cat's when he saw some new young girl, clearly just being apprenticed to her job – her gaze drowsy, struggling to listen to what the other, older woman was saying to her as the other two ran around them.
In her haste, she had forgotten to put on her white coif, her hair pinned around her head in a tight braid, short strands of her hair framing her soft, flushed face.
She did not look at him once.
He saw her the next morning too, this time already dressed appropriately – she was helping other girl to place the dishes prepared for him on silver platters.
She was completely focused on her task and paid no attention to him, so he had no fear of being caught closely observing her long eyelashes and eyebrows, her flushed cheeks and her full, fleshy lips, her pleasantly rounded chin and her softly shaped nose.
She smiled a lot even though her companion was terrified, as if she did not understand well who sat before her.
It seemed to him that she lived in a world of her own, detached from his worries.
He waited like a predator for an opportunity when she would come to him alone and it happened two evenings later.
He commanded some books to be brought to him from the library that he wanted to return to and read again. He sat in front of his fireplace in his richly decorated wooden chair and glanced out of the corner of his eye towards the door when he heard it open – his new servant holding three thick volumes in her hands walked up to the table next to him, placing them there in complete silence, then bowed, wanting to leave.
"– Your Grace –" She said softly, warmly, lightly, and turned away immediately – he heard his low voice echoing in the silence of his chamber.
"You should ask if I need anything else." He said coldly and matter-of-factly, his pointing finger tapping rhythmically against his armrest; he sat with his legs crossed, sprawled comfortably in his seat, looking at her expectantly.
She stopped in mid-step and then looked at his face for the first time – he saw terror in her gaze, but not caused by him or his appearance, but by what he had said, by the fact that she had committed a discourtesy, that she had done her job badly and her superior or he could punish her for it.
She swallowed loudly, turning to face him, folding her hands in front of her in a gesture of humility, lowering her gaze to the stone floor in front of her.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. I am just learning. Is there anything else you need?" She asked softly – she was breathing nervously, her breasts hidden beneath the thin material of her top gown rising and falling quickly, her lips clenched into a thin line.
He liked how humble and submissive she was, how much she wanted him to be pleased with her; he hummed under his breath, lifting his chin higher, curious.
He thought he would have a little fun at her expense for his own entertainment.
"Can you read?" He asked in a low, deep, slightly hoarse voice. He saw that she gave him a quick, surprised glance, but then lowered her eyes again, apparently reminding herself that she was not supposed to do that.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Mmm. Who taught you that?"
"My father."
"The same one who sold you here?"
He saw her brow furrow in pain, her body flinch, her eyes big, she began to breathe through her mouth.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Mmm."
There was silence between them – he stared at her, rubbing the fingers of his hand against each other, and an idea occurred to him.
He liked her voice, soft, girlish, warm, calm, light; she was very young, younger than he was. He squinted his eyelids at the thought that she appeared to him to be the complete opposite of Alys.
"I want you to read me the fourth chapter of the Great History of the North. Take the book and sit on the floor next to me." He commanded; she looked at him in shock and lowered her gaze thoughtfully, her face red with stress.
They both knew it was indecent, that she shouldn't stay so long in his chamber if she didn't want to arouse suspicion about the nature of their relationship, however, he didn't give a fuck.
He tapped his finger loudly on the armrest, impatient that she had hesitated so long.
"I'm waiting. Do you want to annoy me?" He asked coolly – she shook her head quickly, clearly horrified by this vision, and walked on her trembling legs to the table, the scent of grey soap and some other scent, her own, coming to his nostrils.
Alys always smelled of oils, lavender and cloves.
She picked up the right book and, with an uncertain slow step, sat down by the fire opposite him, sitting on her knees, opening the book on her thighs, her hands trembling as she flipped page after page looking for the chapter he had mentioned.
"Pull off your coif." He commanded; she gave him a frightened, pleading look – only now did he see how large her eyes were, surrounded by a veil of her long lashes. He thought they added to her charm and innocence.
"My superior said I must not…"
"Pull it off."
She lowered her head obediently, swallowing loudly, breathing heavily through her nose, her trembling hands raised uncertainly, pulling the white cloth off her head.
Her dark hair was tangled in a braid wrapping around her head in the same way it had been before, unruly short strands at the sides of her face.
"Read." He ordered, and she nodded, going back to finding the right page. When she found it she grunted loudly, licking her lower lip dry with stress as she tried to calm her breathing.
She didn't dare look at him, all red, her eyebrows arched in horror and helplessness – she was obviously afraid he would do something more to her.
He thought that she must surely have heard stories of what his brother did to his servants.
"It is well known that Winterfell was built not as a re...representative castle but as a fortress, s-so the construction of its walls is several layers, that is, consisting of three hoops, the last of them the thickest, composed of stones. The windows in it are not large, giving the enemy no chance to assault with their help or to be the target of cross...crossbow...crossbowmen. For this reason there is only one gate leading into the fortress, protected by several layers of thick oak wood, reinforced with iron fittings, impossible to be destroyed by infantry or armed army."
He closed his eye, spreading himself out comfortably, feeling that somehow her warm, soft voice soothed him, the strong pounding of his heart began to slow down. He listened to her, analysing what she was reading and at the same time falling asleep, the fire burning in the fireplace enveloping him making him feel safe, his muscles slowly beginning to relax.
She had read to him every day since that evening, at his request.
He would always call on her after the Small Council meeting was over, pouring himself some wine, and she would take the book from the table beside him without a word, sitting down in the same place as always. Everytime before she got down to reading she would pull off her coif and place it beside her feet, no longer even waiting for his order.
Subconsciously she knew that he derived some kind of pleasure from this essentially innocent negligee of her body.
It seemed to him that after he had let her go on the first evening without touching her or taking her by force she was no longer afraid of him – he even had the impression that the fact that she could read gave her pleasure since she had no time for it on a daily basis through her duties.
He didn't care who she was, what was her story.
He just wanted to get through time somehow before he returned to Harrenhal.
However, one evening as he sat, waiting for her, drinking wine thoughtfully, a completely different girl appeared in his chamber. He furrowed his brow, furious.
"I do not recall summoning you." He growled harshly – the girl lowered her gaze, ashamed and humiliated.
"It is the Queen's order, Your Grace, I −"
"− bring her here. Immediately."
After several minutes she stood again in his chamber – however, she did not approach him but looked towards him, trembling all over.
"Your Grace, please, I cannot −"
"Come here."
"I can't, Your Grace."
"Come here, I said."
"I can't, Your Grace, the Queen specifically ordered me to −" She paused and jumped in place, horrified when he pulled up suddenly with his eye wide open – within a moment he was in front of her, towering over her, and she lowered her gaze, terrified.
"I fucking hate to repeat myself. Do you understand?" He hissed, her breasts rising and falling in rapid, uneven breathing, tears of helplessness in her eyes – she was shaking all over playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture.
"I beg you, Your Grace, have mercy." She mumbled, falling to her knees before him, humbly lowering her head, on the verge of sobbing.
"Get up." He said coolly – she cried out loudly, burying her face in his hands. He pressed his lips together, looking down at her, her small, helpless figure curled in fear.
"Get up. You are mine. I decide your fate. Stop crying." He commanded, and she drew in a deep breath through her mouth, looking up at him with those big, terrified eyes, seeking reassurance that he would protect her, that he would not let her get hurt.
She sniffed loudly with her nose, wiping her cheeks red from crying, her face all swollen from tears, almost resembling the intense colour of her top dress; she rose with difficulty, not looking at him, standing in front of him as if waiting for a verdict, staring at his chest.
"Mmm."
He turned away, returning to his seat, taking a sip of wine, gazing into the fire – she moved behind him, repeating their ritual, sitting down by his feet, closer than usual, pulling her coif off her head, opening the book.
The next day he made it clear to his mother that she was not to interfere in the affairs of his servants ever again.
His own mother was afraid of him.
She who had always seen him as her greatest support could not look him in the eye.
He felt nothing at that thought.
The time for his return to Harrenhal was slowly approaching; when she came to him again he took a deep sip of wine before surprising her with his words spoken in a calm, deep tone.
"Get ready to travel. Tomorrow you leave with me for Harrenhal."
She looked at him in shock and swallowed loudly, shaking her head – he threw her one cool, menacing look and she curled into herself, looking at him again with those big, shining eyes.
She was so innocent.
"– Lady Rivers will murder me – please –" She mumbled pleadingly. He grinned under his breath and snorted involuntarily – she flinched all over and blushed as his hand went to her head and combed her hair as if he were stroking the fur of his beloved pet.
"Do not fret. I won't allow it."
As he flew on Vhagar, she travelled in one of the carts, like the rest of his possessions.
She was his property.
Alys greeted him with reserve; her abdomen on which she held her hand firmly rounded. He stroked it with a gesture he might call affectionate, thinking of the fact that inside her was his child.
His bastard offspring.
He saw her gaze fixed on the girl who stood far behind him, looking down at her legs.
"You let her into your heart." She said to him regretfully when they were alone in her chamber, standing over him by his chair, his hand wandering involuntarily over her pregnant stomach. He hummed at her words, amused that she was jealous, but did not reply.
He didn't need to explain himself to her.
She instead let him between her thighs, moaning and panting along with him, hurting him with her nails driven deep into his skin, between his brutal thrusts hissing that she hated him only to sob a moment later that she loved him – he came inside her hard, clenching his eyes, feeling relieved.
He stayed with her for the night, but in the morning he returned to his chamber and summoned his servant, ordering that he wished to take a bath.
She stepped into his chamber ashamed, surely having heard the sounds Alys was making during the night as he fucked her – she couldn't look him in the face.
He wondered if she imagined herself in her place and felt his cock throb hard in his breeches at the thought.
She oversaw the other servants who poured water into his tub, and then personally poured the oils he used into it.
Would she be very tight if he took her now?
Would she stifle her sweet moans if his length with each deep thrust of his hips would stretch her fleshy insides and fill her with his seed?
They were left alone.
She pretended not to see or hear him as he began to slowly undress – usually he made the servants leave before he removed his breeches, valuing his privacy and intimacy, but not this time.
She knew she couldn't leave without his permission so she stood, looking sideways, trying to pretend not to see that he was standing bare in front of her.
With a slow, unhurried walk, he stepped into the tub and sighed low, feeling the pleasant heat relaxing his muscles – he was tired after travelling for hours on Vhagar and was sore all over.
"Massage my back and shoulders." He commanded coolly, lying with his head tilted back, his eyes closed, his breathing calm.
He heard her swallow loudly, terrified that someone would catch them, knowing she shouldn't do that – he glanced at her with a look of defiance and saw in her eyes that she had given in.
She approached him from behind, with a gentle, light movement taking his hair out of her way. He murmured lowly, feeling her warm, soft fingers dig into his skin again and again, surprised at how determined she was, that she could do this properly.
Her hands were pleasant against his skin, finer than Alys, she had longer fingers – he felt her warm breath on his head, felt her watching him, felt her scent, all around them just the quiet splash of water at his every slightest movement.
He thought of how pleasant it would be to feel this small, soft hand down there, on his cock.
He was completely hard.
They both shuddered, and he felt her move away from him quickly, terrified, as the door to his chamber opened – he didn't have to turn to feel Alys' oils filling his nose.
"You may leave." She said to his servant, and he pressed his lips together at the thought that she dared to command her in his presence.
He heard her quick movement and after a moment she handed him his shirt and breeches, which he put on with an unhurried, lazy movement, not caring that the mother of his future bastard son could see how ready his cock was to fuck this little girl.
"Stay." He said lowly, standing up from the water, extending his hand to her.
"What is it?" He asked matter-of-factly, without even giving her a glance, tying his breeches, pulling his chemise into them. He saw out of the corner of his eye Alys stroking her stomach in a nervous gesture.
"I wanted to speak with you in private. About my vision." She said lowly. He glanced at his servant, at her pale, terrified face – she was trembling all over, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes full of tears.
He walked over to the chair and sat down in it, looking at her expectantly.
"You may leave." He said softly. She bowed and left with quickly, closing the door immediately behind her.
"Speak."
Alys looked down at him, her lips tightened, her green eyes piercing him.
His lady, his Alys, his insufficient lover, his attempt to fill a void that could not be filled.
"I saw danger coming from the east, great and powerful like a storm cloud. I saw you in the skies. I saw you being devoured by water." She said in a trembling voice – he furrowed his brows, analysing quickly what she had said.
I saw you being devoured by water.
She knelt before him, laying her head on his thigh, and he stroked her long black hair.
"Don't leave me." She whispered.
The word that Daemon wanted to face him, that he was challenging him to a duel spread throughout the fortress.
He knew he could not refuse.
He was terrified.
He feared death.
He locked himself in his chamber despite Alys' pleas to let her in.
If she hadn't told him all this, he wouldn't have been so frightened.
If she hadn't told him he was going to die, he might have had hope.
He summoned her in.
As soon as she walked into his chamber, he ordered her to lock the door behind her, which she did.
She stood before him, looking at him with her eyes wide open, tears under her eyelids, her body shaking all over.
Of course she knew.
He was sure she would take the gold and run away, as she should.
"Spend the night with me or leave. On the table lies a sack of coins that belongs to you. You are a free woman. Take as your husband someone you deem worthy of you."
But she stayed.
She let him undo her hair, allowed him to undress her, to brush with light, butterfly kisses her soft, long neck.
Never before in his life had he been so affectionate to anyone, his hands had never touched anyone with such reverence, never had he cared so much to do it slowly.
First he kissed her on the mouth, gently and tenderly, barely touching her lips, his fingers entwined in her soft curls – she only sighed and stroked his cheek, looking at him dreamy.
He thought that this night, the last night of his life, they would be equals, that he would take her tonight like his wife, only to make her a widow tomorrow.
"Shhh." He hushed her as his mouth clamped down on her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it – she squirmed beneath him and moaned sweetly, finding the courage to stroke his hair, his bare shoulders and back, driving him mad.
He sank his face between her thighs, forcing his tongue again and again between her slick folds – she didn't care if anyone heard her, her sobs loud, helpless and full of pleasure, his nose and thumb with painfully slow, circular motions teasing her pearl, dragging out her fulfilment.
"− easy now − just a little more −" He hummed between the sticky, loud clicks of his tongue – her tiny fingers clenched in his hair, her thighs spread before his face, locked in his hands hot with exertion.
"− please − please −" She mewled helplessly, her gaze clouded, her mouth wide open.
He pulled away from her, jerking his length already dripping with his precum of with a few light strokes, guiding it's fat, pink head to her hot entrance, sticky and wet from her moisture.
She was painfully tight.
He felt like he was tearing her apart from the inside.
She was almost screaming as he thrust inside her, panting along with her, saying 'just a little more'; 't's almost in'; 'shhh, sweet girl'.
They kissed tenderly as he with sure, deep, steady pushes of his hips claimed her maidenhood – he stretched her fleshy, slick muscles with his swollen cock throbbing in pleasure, her blood and their shared moisture running down his thighs and her buttocks, slapping loudly against each other.
"− gods, help me −" She mumbled beneath him, crying in terror and pleasure at the same time, not knowing what was happening to her body, all welted and sweaty, beautiful, innocent, vulnerable, her hands clenched tightly on his buttocks.
He looked down at her, panting and moaning along with her, never having experienced anything like this with a woman before – their bodies seemed to him to be one, clinging to each other, her soft breasts pressed against his chest, he could feel her hard nipples rubbing against his skin with each of his thrusts.
He sped up his pace, forcing her body to give in, to not resist him, his forehead pressed against hers, his tongue deep in her throat.
"− such a sweet girl − hm? − my pretty little servant − makes her prince feel so fucking good − such a tight, hot cunt −" He exhaled, licking her lips, feeling how, at his words, her walls began to clench against him greedily; he heard Alys voice outside his chamber, heard her pounding on the door, heard her crying, but he only chuckled, neither of them was able to stop now.
"− let her hear how good you feel with me − I'm going to come inside you a few times, hm? − just in case, to make sure I've filled you properly −" He cooed, and she cried out loudly at his words, distraught at how strong and delightful fulfilment shook her body – she tried to push him away, her cheeks red from exertion and tears, asking him to stop, overstimulated, but he just came deep inside her at the sound of her sweet, helpless voice.
"− that's it − take it − just like that, don't fight me −" He murmured feeling her body begin to relax, no more sound or crying could be heard behind the door, only silence.
He had thrust his length into her core all night, turning her into a babbling mess – he felt like he had never been more of one with anyone, that he had never been closer to what he could call peace.
He only slid out of her in the morning, watching with satisfaction as a trickle of his pearly spend flowed out of her – he looked down at her, tying his breeches, her gaze directed towards him hazy and absent, yet tender and warm.
"Don't think about me when it's all over." He said softly, her brow arched in pain, tears of despair in her eyes.
Alys bid him farewell with a tender, distraught kiss full of pain, hatred and love.
"Run away from here as fast as you can. With me gone, no one can protect you from her wrath." He said lowly, slipping his boots on his legs and walked out, leaving her alone, informing other servants to prepare his armour for him.
In response he kissed her forehead and stroked her lower abdomen, thinking hopefully as he turned away, walking towards Vhagar to soar through the skies on her for the last time in his life, that his little servant was already far away.
_____
This oneshot have an alternative ending: The dearest embrace
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Aemond Taglist:
(bold means I couldn't tag you)
@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy
#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#aemond x oc#hotd aemond#aemond x fem!reader#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell fanfic#dark aemond smut#dark aemond#dark aemond targaryen#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell smut#hotd smut#aemond targaryen angst#aemond angst#hotd angst#dark aemond angst#aemond fanfic#aemond oneshot#canon aemond#hotd fanfiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fandom#ewan mitchell fandom#aemond fandom#house of the dragon fandom#aemond kinslayer#prince aemond
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[07:17 p.m.] — aemond growls, his hands gripping your hips tight as he pounds into you, bruising your skin as he tightens his hold on you. “you’re mine,” he snarls, sinking his teeth in your shoulder, drawing blood and sucking it eagerly, you cry out in pain and pleasure as he keeps fucking you hard. “say it, say you’re mine.” he says nastily, pulling away from your shoulder as his right hand moves to your belly, pushing you down into the bed. “can you feel it? my cock buried deep inside of you?” he presses his hand down, making you moan louder. “i’m going to put a child on you, my love, you’ll take all my seed like a good girl, right? i know you will, as you always do.”
#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female reader#hotd x reader#hotd x y/n#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond fic#aemond x fem!reader#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond x reader#ewan mitchell#house of the dragon#aemond oneshot
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I would love a fic with Aemond and a blind!reader. I think it would be an interesting relationship dynamic! Maybe she lives at the castle? Daughter of someone who is on the court or of someone who works there? Free reign!
How could you be so blind?
Aemond x blind!reader / AO3 Link
A/N: sorry it took me soooo long to get to this one, but I wanted to take my time with it! It's not long, but it's cute fluff <3 thank you for requesting this!
Warnings: none, just fluff, Aegon being Aegon
...
“My Prince, are you alright?”
Criston Cole was about to swing his weapon again until he realised that the Prince had dropped his shield to his side, his other still gripping the handle of his sword overly firm. Aemond hissed at the feeling of the cold metal on his new wound, dropping his shield almost instantly at this uncomfortable ache.
Aemond grimaced and looked down at his hand, groaning at the sight of a new, line shaped wound that extended across the back of his hand. It had been his own fault and he’d known it. He was reluctant to remember how many times Ser Criston ever told him he should not hold his shield the way he does, otherwise the force of a strike may injure his hands. And yet, he had not listened before and here he was. Blood dripping down his hand and soaking against the leather cuff of his clothes, the sting continued to overwhelm his left hand.
“It is alright, only a scratch” Aemond said through somewhat gritted teeth.
Criston had known him for too long to know he was putting on a brave face, as he always did.
Abandoning the weapon, Criston shook his head.
“Let me see”
Aemond stood back, almost tucking the wounded hand behind himself, pretending as if it never happened.
“I am alright, let’s continue”
“My Prince, I cannot allow you to train injured. You may injure yourself further”
Letting out an annoyed sigh, Aemond had to accept that once again Ser Criston was right. There was no use in continuing to train with blood dripping from his fingers and a pain like no other shooting to his joints. Though he refused to go quietly, that much was certain.
With several huffs of annoyance and pain, Aemond abandoned his own weapons and training to sit in at the maester, who after cleaning the blood from the wound, simply applied some salve and cloth to keep the area away from dirt.
Quickly feeling the beginning of a migraine coming on, the last thing he needs at his lunch hour is his brother echoing down the hallway, even the sound of his voice proving to annoy the second son further.
To his utter dismay, Aegon was not alone, and in through the stone hallways echoed the pointed shoes of his mother and sister, all uncharacteristically together.
“Aemond” Alicent’s sweet voice echoed slightly across the room, smile fading once she saw how his fingers were pressed against his head, “are you alright?”
Aemond almost felt bad. Not wanting to concern his mother this way.
“I am fine, mother. There is no need to worry”
Aeogn threw a lob-sided smile in his direction, sitting down to retrieve a trusty cup of wine.
“What happened to your hand then?” he smirked, “Ser Criston finally get the better of you?”
“Aemond, your hand” Alicent lifted his hand to inspect, only for her son to tear it away, not wishing to burden her with his injury.
“It is nothing, I have been to the maester for the wound. It will heal with time”
Alicent knew better than to push any further and at the same time, did not want to baby Aemond as he progressed into adulthood. Her brown eyes looked down at him for a moment and gave him a comforting smile and knew to drop the conversation altogether.
“Well, at least give our guests the courtesy of a smile when they arrive” Alicent said quietly, picking at her skirts and making for the doorway.
“Guests?”
Alicent turned to Aemond, brows furrowed in confusion at his question. She had told him about it just the night before.
“Yes, we are to receive a new member of the Small Council”
“Even I remembered and I am several wines deep” Aegon smirked, downing the cup in his hand.
Aemond groaned, eye rolling to the back of his head and the heel of his hand pushed harder against his forehead. Of course, he had completely forgotten and his mood at the moment did not permit meeting new people.
“Mother, I am in no mood…” Aemond started. Alicent’s smile dropped and she joined her hands,
“Aemond” her voice was more stern than he was used to, and his good eye looked back at his mother, “at least just be there. You do not have to say anything”
Alicent made for the exit and Aegon revelled in the idea that the oh-so-good second son had upset his mother in this way. Usually it was Aegon bearing the brunt of a mother’s scornful gaze, but it was nice and refreshing for him to gloat a little.
“Yes, brother” Aegon staggered to his feet, completely ignoring their sister as he pushed to follow Alicent, “Put on a good face. Although that may be difficult for you”
Helaena followed without a word, almost hating this as much as Aemond did. Once alone, he let out a heavy sigh and pushed himself groggily to his feet, taking as much time as he needed to follow behind. He really was not in the mood for this.
He paused before entering the foyer, already hearing the echoed voices of a new man speaking in pleasantries and useless small talk. Hand laced behind his back, he took his place behind Aegon and Helaena, eye slightly closed to resist the sharp pain of the light that might make his headache even worse. Barely even listening to the quiet echoes of his mother, the clatter of heels on the stone floor rapped at his aching head more so.
“Your Grace, this is my daughter”
There was a short silence before a small, quiet voice responded, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace. Please extend my thanks to the King for granting my Father this position”
Alicent seemed genuinely stunned for a moment, finding her words, “The pleasure is all mine, my Lady”
Scrunching his eye closed, expectant to make his greetings shortly, Aemond opened his eye a slither, seeing the blurred silhouettes of the Lord and Lady before his mother. He could not make out the woman, blocked by the form of her father as his back faced them.
“And may I introduce you to my children, Aegon, Helaena and Aemond”
Aemond made the effort to open his eye more so. The man was portly, but tall and sent a bow and a small smile, the woman next to him having an unusually strong hold on his arm. They stood before Aegon first,
“Prince Aegon” her voice was quiet still, despite being so close and he could see her extend herself to curtsy before his brother.
Aegon, as per, had that stupidly drunken grin on his face, searching the woman’s face before him. Cocking his head slightly, he smiled back and kissed her hand, her expression never changed.
Before Helaena, both of the women curtsied and the silver-haired woman seemed to regard her closely in front of her, perhaps seeing something others did not. But she remained silent and with a similar temperament, greeted her quietly.
Aemond had not known what to expect when the father and daughter duo landed upon him. Of course, Aemond nodded in greeting to the Lord first before allowing his good eye to land on the woman next to him. Her arm was linked with her father’s, fingers gripped at the sleeve. As if not knowing exactly where she was stood, she took a baby step forward towards Aemond, eyes vacant and staring ahead.
“Prince Aemond” she greeted quietly. As with custom, he took her other hand softly and placed a kiss to it, his eye never leaving her face. She never moved once, save the ever-present chaste smile on her features. And while she stood before him for a moment, he studied all her features, a touch of curiosity tugging at him greatly.
“My Lady”
He had surprised himself with the greeting, having not thought before the words left his mouth and something tight like a vine wrapped about his chest.
“My Lord, shall I introduce you to the King, to make your pleasantries” Alicent piped up to cut through the air.
The father simply nodded without a sound, tugged back by the whisper of his daughter.
“Father, might I walk about?” she asked, eyes still straight ahead, vision not shifting.
As if forgetting he nodded, “Your Grace, might the Princess Helaena accompany my daughter through the Keep?
It is a new place, your Grace and she does not know her way about”
Alicent smiled comfortingly and gestured to her daughter, who uncharacteristically raised her head and smiled at the prospect of female company.
“Of course. Helaena, darling, would you?”
Helaena nodded enthusiastically and had that child-like smile on her face now, hopping over to the woman as her father gently placed her arm in Helaena’s. He watched almost in pride as the two women walked away, the murmured whispers of the young women audible to those walking by.
“Thank you, Princess. Do be slow with me, I fear my feet cannot keep up” the woman laughed, her hand finding its natural place in Helaena’s.
As the pair walked away, the brother’s were left with two differing versions of curiosity. Aegon with a smirk on his and Aemond’s blank, with the desire to fill his head with more of her.
“Blind, most of her life. Shame, she would be quite pretty if not for that”
Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye.
“You are insufferable”
Aegon furrowed his brows, almost offended, “What? Perhaps it is a blessing she is blind, so she does not have to see your miserable face”
Tsk.
“Better my miserable face than your constant indecent quips”
Aemond felt his fist clench uncontrollably behind his back. Aegon half-turned on the spot to google his brother, one eyebrow raised as if mocking.
“What has gotten into you, brother? Cuntstruck already?”
Aemond could practically feel the burning behind his forehead now, getting more and more agitated at his brother’s neverending mocking.
“Perhaps I sympathise” Aemond said flatly, his broad body facing Aegon now, “or perhaps I am just sick of hearing your voice”
“Either way, I do not give a fuck. Frankly, it amuses me to think there is one good eye between you”
Aemond could hear how proud his brother was of himself as Aegon slinked down the hallway out of sight, careful to not push his brother too far. But far enough it seemed, as Aemond felt his teeth pierce his lip in annoyance.
He scanned the hallway, hoping to at least have looped back to bump into her and his sister. But there was no sign of them until much later, when Aemond happened upon the two young women in the gardens. The sight before him made him smile properly for the first time in a while, seeing his sister talking erratically and excitedly. She was knelt before the woman, hands placed out to her to allow a caterpillar Helaena had found to crawl its way onto her skin.
“Oh, it tickles” the lady said, her body tensing and trying her best not to laugh, shaking in her attempt.
The sound of Helaena’s genuine laugh brushed through the spring trees and the other woman’s too as the insect crawled up her arm.
“Does he have hairs?” she asked.
Helaena looked up wide with glee, “This species do, they use them to sense vibrations in the ground, since they have no eyes”
The woman nodded in understanding and a silence fell onto the Princess, her expression immediately falling, “I am so sorry, I did not mean to offend!”
Helaena looked worriedly at the woman before her, fearing that she was too nice to retaliate to what the Princess perceived as a cruel joke.
But the woman simply shook her head, letting a quiet laugh escape, “There is no need to worry, Princess. I thought nothing of it”
The woman’s hands hovered over where she thought the caterpillar was, picking the small creature up with her delicate fingers to lay in her palm. Satisfied that her new friend had not been offended with her words, Helaena smiled and took the creature back to lay him back in the grass.
“I am grateful for your company, Princess. Thank you for taking me around the Keep, it is difficult to memorise on my own”
Helaena shook her head, “It is alright, my pleasure, my Lady. I hope we can become better acquainted as friends”
Helaena smiled hopefully, “I would like that very much”
She almost squealed with delight at the prospect of a friend, squeezing her hands tightly.
“If you will excuse me, I will see you tonight for supper”
The young woman nodded, ever a smile on her soft features. She could hear the soft footsteps of the Princess walking away, a sigh escaping her chest as the sound of muffed leaves swayed in the wind.
Aemond had watched the entire time, mouth slightly open as if to say something. He would not like to admit it to himself, but he was curious about her. She seemed to have a cheerful personality and a smooth, sweet laugh that claimed the dark silence in the air around her. And at first, Aemond was shocked to hear that she was blind. Were it not for her motions, he would never have guessed.
Her eyes were light and clouded, not dissimilar to a bright white cloud in the sky.
“I can hear you, Prince Aemond”
His heart stopped in his chest as her head turned in his direction, a breath caught in his throat at being caught. Was she lying this whole time about her sight? Surely there was no explanation other than this, he thought.
Then she left a giggle free, “I can hear your footsteps and breathing. I don’t think you are as light-footed as you think”
His chest unclenched at her joking nature, a smile once more making its way slowly on his face, knowing that she would not be able to see and mock him for it.
With this acceptance, he approached her and stood before her seated form.
“I apologise, my Lady. I did not mean to pry”
She shook her head, “Not at all. Would you like to join me”
Pulling his cuffs back over his wrists, he sat beside her, eye never leaving her.
“Your sister is lovely”
“Hm” he hummed in response, “I think she is happy to finally have some female company” his fingers ran over the bandage on the back of his hand, “I have never seen her so happy”
She clasped her hands together on her lap, using one of her thumbs to run over the other. A nervous gesture perhaps?
“It will be nice, seeing as my father has been graced with his position”
“Your family intends to stay in residence”
She nods slowly, “I believe so”
“Good”
Aemond spoke without even thinking, panic settling into his head and neck getting hot once he realised she bit her lip, smiling to hold a giggle inside, “Uh-u…I only meant that…it would be good to know you better. If we are to share the same table”
She nodded still smiling, knowing how flustered he had been.
“Thank you, Prince Aemond” she paused, “although, I do not think your brother feels the same way”
Aemond was about to open his mouth to say something, kicking himself that she had heard what Aegon had said.
“I urge you not to worry. I have been blind long enough to grow thick skin” she smiles again, and Aemond wonders how someone can be so happy.
“It is still no excuse for his words”
She scoffed, “I don’t think he cares if he offends me or not. I have learned to live with it”
I have learned to live with it, those words echoed in his head for minutes after she had said it. And he felt all but vulnerable again, like a child.
“I was not born blind” she said, answering the question before Aemond had the opportunity to consider even asking it.
“Although, I was too young to appreciate having sight. It’s funny isn’t it?” she turns to him, but unknowing where exactly he was, her eyes were still focussed past him.
Aemond furrowed his brows, confused, “What is?”
“That you don’t appreciate what you have until it is gone”
It was Aemond’s turn to scoff now, and he did, turning away slightly.
“I’m not sure I would consider it funny” he replied, slightly hurt that he could relate perfectly.
“Perhaps funny is not the right word, then”
She placed her hands on the bench at the side of her to readjust, unknowingly brushing her hand passed Aemond’s and she flinched, as if he were hot to the touch.
“I apologise”
He murmured a response.
“I use my hands too much” she excuses herself again and he has not observed this until she just said it. But she did reach out for things to check what exactly it was, “It is how I see” she laughs at her own joke, and Aemond feels the mischievous air radiate off her, already feeling as if he knew her better.
“Do you see any light?” he asks, genuinely wondering.
She does a half nod, “I see silhouettes of people. If I focus very well I can see your outline, but even that has gotten worse”
“If people allow I sometimes touch their faces, to see what they look like” she pauses, using her hands with her speaking, “But people usually find that quite strange”
Aemond nodded, understanding what she meant.
“Does it help you?” he asks and he smiles when she returns with a sharp nod, her cheeks rounding up with her smile.
“My hands are my eyes” she continues, and he relishes in the sound of her voice, “when the eyes are affected, the hands reach out for what is before them”
She spoke in such riddles, sometimes it confused him. Or rather her words were like poetry, as if she had rehearsed what she was going to say. Perhaps that was something Aegon might want to start practicing.
Aemond puts his hand in the air before her, hovering over hers.
“And what do you feel?” he asks.
She has a confused look on her face for a moment before bumping her hands up to meet his large one, hers were so small in comparison. She emitted a small oh in surprise at feeling his hand was so close to hers and Aemond could see the pure concentration on her face as her delicate fingers ran over his injured hand. Her touch so soft that it did not feel in the least bit painful.
“I feel…” she paused for dramatic effect, “...a hand”
Aemond scoffed at her joking nature.
“Sorry” she half-joked, hands still on his skin. He watched as her fingers studied at him in patience.
“Your hands are large, good for fighting and holding a sword.
Hm…your fingertips are coarse. And you have callouses on the heel of your palm. Perhaps you like to train a lot.
Hmm”
Her hands made their way over one side to the other, pausing as her fingers rested on the bandage.
“You’ve hurt yourself and the bandage is fresh…
No scars other than that. This is not your dominant hand”
Aemond raised his eyebrows, half-shocked and half-impressed at her ability to draw such conclusions. Like those palm readers in King’s Landing.
“You have slender wrists…you were a small child”
Aemond observed her now and her face, her tongue slipping over her lip to concentrate once more. When she is finished, she does not retreat her hands.
“Very good” he said after a short silence and that smile graces her once more.
Taking in a sharp breath, he turns his body to face her, taking her hands in both of his easily. With his thumbs massaging her palms, he lifts them to place at his jaw.
“What about here?” he asks.
He can tell she is shocked that he has allowed her to touch his face. And she wonders if she should refuse him, feigning nervousness. But curiosity of her own gets the better of her and she is in no position to refuse a Prince. So she applies pressure to either side of his face, but still soft to Aemond.
So much so his eye closes at the feeling of her ghostly hands across his features.
She traced his jaw, cupping his angular chin, and he no longer wishes to watch her as she does this. Instead opting to disappear in this feeling, her warm hands upon him.
Her thumbs symmetrically glide on his undereye, one tracing the contour of his eye and the other the pattern of this leather eyepatch. And then over the bottom of the scar. But her touch doesn’t falter, as if it is the most usual thing in the world. Her fingers fiddle with the strap of it for a moment before passing over his nose and then to his forehead, and all memory of the migraine he once had was completely gone. Her touch was healing and the throbbing began to dissipate back into his muscles.
He almost sighed out loud as her nimble and small fingertips found their way into his hairline, passing across the follicles and eliciting a feeling of pure bliss. Perhaps it was the feeling of being understood. Or perhaps it was just having the soft, delicate touch of someone.
Her fingers passed over his locks and he opened his eye once again to look at her. He knew she would not be able to see it, but he was smiling contently down at her.
Her hands retreated, remaining suspended in the air between them and she swore she could feel the current of his breath against them.
“Well?” he asked quietly.
Her tongue came to lick at her lips again as she formed a reply in her head.
“I think you have had a difficult time”
Her words hit him deeply, not like a kick to the chest but that feeling of having the curtains drawn quickly and being woken. He felt his very outer shell begin to peel away, like a peach that she had sunk her thumb into. But not pried open, but rather overripe and splitting of its own accord. Merely needing the touch to splay open.
He swallowed thickly, a feeling of comfort washing over him, knowing that he was being truly seen.
“And you have beautiful hair”
#aemond fic#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond angst#aemond fluff#aemond fandom#aemond fanfiction#aemond stannies#hotd fanfic#hotd fluff#aemond targaryen x y/n#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x reader#aemond imagine#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond oneshot#aemond drabble#house of the dragon fandom#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon fic#house of the dragon
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