#aemond targaryen x original character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bichachonacho · 1 year

Text

Retribution

pt.2 of ‘The Other Woman’

pt.3 here

warnings: angst and fluff (technically) & mentions of sex.

The fan art divider below is not my work. I found it on pinterest but Idk who the artist is. If someone knows can you please lmk so I can give them credit <3

a/n: also thank you so much for all the love for part one of this story <3! and I’m sorry to those who asked me to tag them with this post I was trying to but it wouldn’t let me for some reason :/

It had been weeks since that night, the same night Aemond confessed his feelings for his true love Alys in his drunken state. The same night you had cried yourself to sleep, wanting to be as far away from your husband whilst being trapped in his embrace. You woke the next morning with a new realisation— why should you bother trying to be an outstanding wife when you would never compare to her.

His beloved Alys.

Her name tastes like poison in your mouth, so distasteful you fear you’ll grow sick if it lingers at the forefront of your mind any longer. You feel guilty, it’s not her fault you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who’s madly in love with her.

You stop trying with Aemond. All the effort you put in to try and gain his approval, affection and love would inevitably go to waste— so why should you spend any more time worrying about Aemond and his needs. He didn’t need nor want you to be his wife, so you shouldn’t act the part.

You carry on with your day after your brief breakfast with Aemond in the dining room. You kept the conversation short, as you usually do now. You have little to say to him besides conversation about your shared duties to the throne and your family. You stopped trying to make small talk with him, your attempts before often irritated him. He wouldn’t hide the fact your consistent need for communication with him bothered him. Now you’re content with the shared silence between the two of you, grateful that you didn’t have to scramble to think of things to talk about.

You allow the handmaidens to ready your bath as you contemplate what outfit to wear for your day out of Kings landing. You ignore the way Aemond’s eye is trained on you intently, silently observing the way you think over what dress to wear between the two options.

“If those do not please you, I’ll buy you finer dresses, dear wife” Aemond breaks the silence, causing you to scoff at his attempt of being a considerate husband. This was one of the only times he had referred to you as his wife, weeks ago you would’ve been praising your gods in thanks— now the title barely phases you.

“Now why would you do that” You huff, deciding on the dress that was a deep shade of blue. You brush past him, hinting for him to leave the room when you bathe. He hums before pushing off of his seat and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as you begin to undress.

“Are you planning on telling Prince Aemond where you are headed?” Your handmaiden Meredith questions you as she brushes your long silver hair. You pretend to lull the thought over before you say no.

“He doesn’t need to know. My absence won’t phase him” You hum, causing Meredith to tut as she braids some of your fine hair. You shut your eyes momentarily, preparing to receive an earful from the older woman who was like your mother figure in Rhaenyra’s absence.

“I would question that, Princess. Prince Aemond had spent half the day searching for you when you had left to roam the streets two days ago” She informs you, causing you to hum in thought as you processed what she had just told you. It seemed absurd that Aemond would notice you leaving for a few hours, you could disappear for weeks and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

“I trust you won’t tell him if he searches for me” You hum, confiding in her trust. You already knew the answer, Meredith would defend you with her last breath if it came down to it. She presses a soft kiss into your hair before standing up and stretching her limbs.

“Be mindful there is a family dinner tonight. You cannot be late” Meredith informs you and you wave her off, promising you wouldn’t be tardy before you push off of the hard floor and prepare to leave your bedchamber.

You had forgotten your promise the moment you stepped foot on Dragonstone. It had slipped your mind completely as you spent the day with your younger siblings— your mother distracting you in the evening by telling you stories by the fireplace. Your hand was steadily caressing her heavily swollen stomach as you listen to her tale, hoping your sibling inside of her womb was also listening. It was so entertaining you had forgotten of your curfew.

You leave Dragonstone hastily on Dragonback, cursing as you chastise yourself for forgetting such a thing. Meredith would definitely give you an earful later for this, but that was the least of your concerns as you take quick strides down the halls of the Red Keep. Out of breath and hair messy from the ride back, you quickly try to make yourself more presentable before you enter the dining room— the guard posted outside the door giving you a look before you enter.

“I apologise for my tardiness, your grace” You announce as you greet Alicent who gives you a tight lipped smile from her side of the table. She silently disapproved of your lack of consideration for time but said nothing— allowing you to take a seat beside Aemond.

You ignore his stare, keeping your gaze focused on the plate infront of you as you cut into your steak, hoping he would lose interest of your face and stop staring so intensely.

“Where have you been?” Aemond confronts you, finally breaking the deafening silence that could be cut with a knife.

“I went for a ride. Needed some fresh air” You glance at him as you answer, catching the dissatisfied look on his face at your alibi.

“Be honest with me” He presses you again, his voice slightly louder and catching the attention of the others sitting around the table. They pretend to carry on with their idle chatter, obviously eavesdropping on your conversation. You stay silent, ignoring his statement and hoping he would lose interest and stop talking to you.

“Your husband demands you to answer him” He growls, his tone revealing his frustration at your silence.

“Or what? You’ll sever my tongue?” You argue as you drop your cutlery, accentuating your anger as you repeat the words he spoke to you at this same table weeks ago. Everyone around the table goes silent at your sudden outburst, Aegon barely biting back a laugh whilst Helaena gazes at you with sympathy in her eyes. Alicent as you expected still wore a scowl on her face, unimpressed by both you and Aemond’s antics.

“I apologise for my outburst” You announce to everyone at the table before you continue to quietly eat, shifting further away from Aemond in your seat as you internally wish you were riding back to Dragonstone.

“I visited my family. That’s where I was today” You sigh heavily as you both enter your shared bedchamber after the dinner had concluded. Aemond gives you a look of understanding before you brush past him and begin to undress.

He lingers around the small bookshelf you insisted to be made months ago, finger trailing along the covers until he pulls out the novel containing children’s tales.

“You no longer read to me. I wish for you to read again” Aemond’s voice is just above a whisper, barely audible with the only sounds being your fabric loosening and the crackles from the fire.

Every second night after you wed, you made it a nightly ritual to read out loud your favourite stories from your childhood. Hoping it would help you bond with Aemond, it in fact did the opposite and made him leave the room most times— claiming he’d rather listen to Aegon fucking some whore than you reading to him.

“Today has exhausted me. Feel free to read on your own accord” You hum, dismissing his request as you stifle a yawn— pulling back your sheets to lay on your side of the bed. Aemond sighs heavily before he retires to the seat infront of the fireplace, reading quietly to himself. You had already shut your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, so you missed the way he kept glancing over at your sleeping form.

Aemond feels a slight tightness in his chest as he reflects on how distant you’ve been with him for the last few weeks. He noticed it the first morning you stopped asking him a million questions at the breakfast table. Your odd behaviour that morning only being the start to you growing further apart from him. You stopped trying to drag him to the garden to simply walk with you, you no longer played with his hair or tried to jest with him. You didn’t ask him how his day was at the end of the night as you both lay down for bed, you would just silently turn over and sleep.

He’s hurt you, more times than he could count on all ten of his fingers. He treated you so bitterly because he blamed you for losing his sweet Alys to this betrothal. Now that he’s losing you too, he doesn’t know how to stop this marriage from falling apart.

The next morning, you ready your proposal to Aemond— one that you’ve been dwelling on for the last few weeks. You weren’t sure of how he’d react, probably ecstatic over your suggestion if you were to be honest. You know Alicent won’t be satisfied if she were to find out, so you intend to keep it a secret.

“We will reside in separate bedchambers. I’ve already asked Meredith to arrange Jace’s old bedroom down the hall for me. I’ll be moving my belongings there tonight” You announce to Aemond once you are both sat together during breakfast. He pauses at the news, confusion gracing his features as he stares at you.

“We’re married, why should you feel the need to sleep away from me?” His chest tightens again as he speaks.

“We’re practically worlds away when we share one bed, what difference would it make being in separate rooms” You say nonchalantly, sipping on your lukewarm tea as your eyes leave his. He doesn’t voice his disagreement with your suggestion, just silently nodding before he continues to eat.

When night comes, both you and Aemond make your way to your bedchambers after spending an evening with the whole family in Aegon and Helaena’s quarters. You were practically glued to her youngest child the whole night, unaware of your husband’s stare as he watched you babble away in gibberish to the young baby.

“Do you need instructions on where to stick your cock, brother?” Aegon had clapped him on the shoulder as he joins him by the fireplace he was leaning against. Aemond hums in confusion, pulling his gaze away from you momentarily to glance at his brother.

“It’s out of brotherly love that I question why you haven’t put your seed in her yet. Have you not been married half a year now?” Aegon scoffs, downing his goblet full of wine before he tosses it aside.

“We don’t share the insatiable urge to fuck like rabbits the way you and your whores do, dear brother” Aemond bites back, causing Aegon to raise his hands up in defense.

“At least I feel the urge to touch them, not once since your wedding have I seen you embrace her— not even with a simple kiss” Aegon was right, after their wedding night, Aemond didn’t bother trying to share any affection with you. In his heart he knew his kind touch and warm embrace were reserved for the one woman who held his heart in her hands.

“Y/N…” Aemond hums, stopping you in your tracks as you stop walking down the hall. You feel his hand embrace yours as he turns your body to face him, his touch warm as he cups your hand in his.

“H—how was your day?” He questions you, his stutter causing him to curse at himself internally as he notes how foolish he sounds. You let out a little laugh at how confusing he was being, you spent the walk back here in utter silence and he chooses only now to ask you.

“It was like every other day I have here. Meredith made me chocolate muffins— they were divine” You hum, unsure of what else to talk about you ask him the same question.

“My day was mediocre at best, one can only bare Aegon for so long”

You hum in understanding, Aegon was more than a handful. He was torture when he wanted to be, which was majority of the time he was in anyone’s presence. You’re blessed to be married to the tamer brother, the same one who still had your hand in his grasp.

“If that is all, I wish you goodnight Prince Aemond” You hum, pulling your hand from his grasp completely before you turn on your heel and continue on your way to your new bedchamber.

Discomfort sits in his stomach at your use of his formal name, it was as though he wasn’t your husband— a stranger to you almost. He feels guilt reside in him as he reflects on how he would chastise you for calling him terms of endearment that Alys often used. It’s only now as he watches her walk away from him and disappear into her bedchamber that he realises he would give an arm and a leg to hear you call him those names once again.

Much to your dismay, you can barely sleep a wink. You toss and turn against your cold sheets , frustrated and confused as to why you couldn’t sleep soundly in your own space. No longer did you have to sleep stiffly because Aemond was on the other half of your bed. You had all the freedom in the world to sleep, yet you couldn’t even as you tried your hardest to.

You decide to take a walk in the garden to clear your head and hopefully tire yourself out enough to finally rest. Sighing heavily, you admire the warm air that fans against your skin as you quietly make your way down the halls. Your eyes widen slightly as you see his long silver hair, his eye focused on the moonlight that beams through the trees leaves above him. For once in your marriage you seem to finally sync as you realise he couldn’t sleep either, needing the comfort of nature to clear his head.

“You couldn’t rest either?” You hum as you approach him, the leaves crunching beneath your bare feet as you move closer to him. He seems startled at first, exhaling in relief when he recognises his wife’s voice.

“It seems as though I have grown used to the warmth of your body beside mine— your absence has turned me into an insomniac” Aemond admits truthfully, causing something inside of your gut to spark when you hear his words.

“It appears your absence has caused me to have the same troubles” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest as you look up at the leaves above your head, fascinated by it’s pretty colour.

“We shall grow used to it as time passes” You exhale, hoping that you don’t suffer the same fate tomorrow night. He’s taken aback by your statement, his eye resting on your face.

“Time passes? How long do you intend on being separated?” If you weren’t aware of Aemond’s true feelings toward you, you would almost hear the hint of sadness in his voice as he speaks.

“I was meaning to discuss this matter with you in a week’s time, but seeing as we’re alone and at our most vulnerable— I shall inform you now” Your words cause his pulse to quicken, he involuntarily feels his heart pound as you turn to face him. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I know this marriage wasn’t one formed from a love match. I’m the last person you wished to marry and somehow we still found ourselves betrothed” You sigh heavily, reflecting on the moments you’ve shared as a married couple so far— most, if not all being ones where neither of you were happy.

“Someone else has ahold of your heart, it was never mine to claim and I was foolish for trying to in the first place. This marriage was always destined to fall” You grasp ahold of his hands in yours, the gesture causing your gazes to meet as he finally looks at your face.

“I give you my permission to pursue your beloved Alys, so long as we both continue this marriage for the sake of our family name and duties— nothing more, you are free to love her. I too will do the same, in hopes that I do one day find someone who loves me as much as you love her” You say in finalisation, watching his face for any sign of a reaction.

Aemond’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest at your words, he didn’t know how to feel. You were giving him a golden opportunity on a silver platter, he would get to love his Alys freely— without the guilt of already being a husband and that in itself sounded like heaven to him. Still, he was heavily conflicted. He wanted to confess to you that even with his love to Alys, he still longed for you— his wife that he had watch gradually lose herself because of him. It’s selfish of him to need you both, to want you almost as much as he wants her.

After a moment, Aemond finally nods his head in agreement— the words of truth being trapped in his throat as he fails to utter even a word to you. You give his hands a squeeze before you release your hold on him.

“This matter is settled then” You hum before you pull away from him. You bid him goodnight, your words barely processing in Aemond’s mind as he fails to speak. Instead he watches you walk away in silence, leaving him alone in the garden with his thoughts and his latest regret.

—

a/n: Idk about this ending tbh sorry if it’s meh but the final chapter will be worth it :p

tags <3

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine

5K notes · View notes

starogeorgina · 1 year

Text

Children of the dragon

Warnings: Incest, sexual content, child birth, swearing

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen × Targ oc, Minor Aemond Targaryen × Targ oc

1.04

“Perhaps the prince would like to leave the room to give the midwives a chance to-”

“Don’t you dare fucking leave me!” You hiss, squeezing Aegon’s hand, and you stare daggers at the maester. “He’s not leaving my side.”

Reluctantly, the maester nods, swiftly leaving the room to no doubt report back to your mother, who was waiting at the door. She seemed more concerned that Aemond was nowhere to be found than you. The midwives had managed to spin your baby to the right way round, which reduced your chances of dying while giving birth breech.

Aegon hadn’t once left your side.

As the midwives ordered you to push, Aegon stood behind you, his forehead pressed against your crown, whispering words of encouragement and a promise to keep you safe while you held onto both of his hands tightly, screaming and crying as your first child entered the world.

“It’s a boy,” the midwives tell you as they wrap your screaming baby in a blanket, wipe his face, and then place him in your arms.

You sob at how tiny he is; “it’s a boy. My beautiful boy.” You stare down at him, admiring all his small features, until you feel sharp pains in your stomach and say, “Fuck! Aegon take him!”

“What?”

“Just take him!”

Nervously, Aegon takes him from your arms and into his; as soon as he does this, you grip the sheets, holding back on screaming again as you deliver the afterbirth. Afterwards, you stand up to let the midwives clean the bloodstained sheets, and you notice they keep looking at Aegon and then each other, clearly confused at why he is there.

Aegon was so mesmerized by the baby in his arms that he hadn’t noticed you’d gotten up and changed until you winced in pain getting back into bed. With a proud look on his face, he places the baby back into your arms and then kisses you on the forehead.

Moments later your mother enters the room; she shoots Aegon a disapproving glare when she sees him sitting on the foot of the bed, his hand resting on your leg, but smiles when she sees your baby for the first time. “He’s precious,” she says, brushing damp strands of hair out of your face. “I’m so proud of you, my darling. Have you and Aemond thought of a name?”

“Aeron.”

The room falls silent. You and Aegon stare at each other, and a flicker of understanding passes between you.

Your mother lets out a sound of delight. “I think the name Aeron will fit him well.”

—

Once your mother left, a wet nurse arrived, offering to take Aeron and feed him. You shake your head and say, “Thank you, but I’m going to do it myself.”

The wet nurse looks bewildered. Breastfeeding was deemed an inconvenience, and it would apparently stop you from getting pregnant again while doing it, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feed and connect with your newborn, which shouldn’t have been a problem, but the idea of it had caused the other women in the room to fluster. The wet nurse looks between you and the midwives. You became irritated and let out a sigh of annoyance.

Tracy, your handmaiden smiles sweetly at the wet nurse and says, “You may go.”

An older midwife tries to intervene. “My lady, it is known that-”

“Princess Theodora,” Aegon says sternly.

Her jaw clenches as she struggles to keep a polite smile on her face. “Princess, I believe it would be better if you hand the babe over to the wet nurse for now so you can rest.”

You had only given birth hours prior, and already they were seeking to control how you parented. If you lost control now, you would never regain it, and you would simply not allow that to happen.

“My child will be staying by my side, and his cot will be brought through to my chambers so I can tend to him overnight.”

The midwife's blank facial expression changed to one of horror. “I must insist—”

“Everyone out!” you snap.

“And if anyone has issue with the princess's choices, you can take them up with me, the firstborn son of King Viserys, or you can ask the Queen her opinion on the matter,” Aegon adds.

The midwives scurry to gather their belongings and leave. Tracy tried to hide her amusement, saying, “I will have someone move his belongings from the nursery to your bedroom right away.”

“Thank you,” you say sincerely.

When the room is empty, you look at Aegon, trying not to laugh, and ask, “The first son of King Viserys?”

He shrugs, smirking, “It worked, didn’t it? Pay them no mind. He is our-your son. He’ll grow up knowing nothing but love.”

You look down at the helpless baby in your arms and tear up. You’d never imagined you’d feel so much love at once or the urge to protect. Aeron was innocent and pure, you’d spend the rest of your life trying to shield him from the badness in the world.

Aegon kisses the back of your head, saying, “I was so scared when you started bleeding; I thought I might lose you. Both of you… I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe, even if it means pretending he isn’t mine.”

His voice is weak from trying to hold back tears. It never occurred to you when you first made love to Aegon how much was to be caused further down the line. But looking at your son's small, lilac eyes, you know you wouldn’t change it.

“If Aemond ever finds out Aeron is yours, he'll burn King's Landing to the ground.”

“Don't worry, he won't find out.”

—-

“Aegon!” You empty a cup of water over him. “This is serious, wake up!”

Rubbing the water from his face, he scowls up at you. His voice is laced with irritation as he looks around the room and asks, “Where are the children?”

“In bed, it’s nighttime.”

“Unless you’ve woken me to show me your sweet cunt, I’m going back to sleep.”

He was drunk. You kneel down so you are level with him. “Aemond will be here soon; you need to go. If he finds you here-”

Aegon slurred his words and waved his hand, motioning to the chair he was lying in. “He’ll what? Assume I walked into the wrong bedchamber and passed out.”

“He’s getting suspicious. If he starts to believe the rumours…you know not to come here when he wants to spend time with me.”

Aegon sits up, his greasy hair flops over in front of his face, and he always drinks heavily when Aemond wants to try for another child. When Aeron turned one, your husband suggested having another, and just over nine months later you gave birth to twin girls, Alina and Alyssa. Of course, they shared the same father as their brother.

“Spend time with you—you mean he wants to rut into you and fill you with seed.”

You hated how crude his language choice could be at times, “You need to go now.” You scrunch your nose up when Aegon leans his head against your chest, “and take a bath. You stink of ale.”

“This wasn’t a part of our plan; you can’t have any more children. Not now.”

Hearing the pain in his voice broke you. You blink away tears that threaten to build up, kissing the top of his head, “I know, I know, and I won’t.”

Aegon had begged you to leave King's Landing and start a new life somewhere the name Targaryen means nothing, and you did consider it until rumours of you and Aegon fucking in a brothel spread. Although it wasn’t true, the rest of your family became more suspicious of the time you spent with your brother.

You watch happily as Aegon plays with your son in the garden. It surprised you how protective he was over Aeron and your newborn babies. Hearing footsteps approaching, you look over your shoulder and smile, “You look lovely today, mother. We missed you at breakfast this morning.”

“Thank you, and I was praying to the gods for guidance.”

Hearing Aeron let out a cry, you spun around fast to see your son being scooped up into Aegon’s arms. He had tripped over a small rock, scraping his knee. Aegon soothes him by stroking his hair and kissing him on the cheek. A moment later, Aeron was placed back on the ground and returned to exploring the garden.

“Where is Aemond?”

You shrug. “I do not know, but I’m sure he won’t be far.”

Most days, you just saw Aemond in passing at meal times and formal events. He only visited your bedchambers when he wanted to create another heir or was frustrated.

Your mother looked at you and then into the garden. Her face settled into one of worry. “Parenthood is hard; it takes some fathers longer to adjust.”

“I don’t doubt Aemond loves the children.”

“A mother's love is different,” she squeezes your hand. “And an uncle’s as well, apparently. They are very lucky to have so many people taking care of them.”

You frown at her; your mother's tone has changed from neutral to cold and accusing. “If Aegon wishes to tell my children about dragons, Targaryen history, and bedtime stories, even if they are too young to understand them, then so be it. It's more than Aemond does.”

“And why is that?”

Her question was simple but loaded. She wasn’t willingly blind like your father; being queen, she had learned how to be sleek, observant, and cunning. She knew the truth but didn’t dare outright ask.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

It might have been possible for you to sneak out of King's Landing with Aeron without raising suspicion; you would have claimed to be taking him with you while dragon riding, but after delivering twin girls, it became impossible. You wouldn’t be able to ride with all three children safely, and the moment someone noticed Sunfyre riding alongside Dallax, the consequences would be dire.

A knock at the door causes you to jump back just as Aemond enters the room. He looks between you and Aegon and rolls his eyes. “Lost and wondering again?”

“Piss off.”

Aemond smirks, enjoying seeing his brother in such a state. “You should sleep it off,” you say softly. “Come on, we should get you back to your own bedchamber.”

“Allow me,” Aemond brushed aside, pulling Aegon to his feet. “Come, brother, I doubt my wife wants to spend time with you at this time of night.”

You hold your breath, waiting to hear Aegon’s drunken response, but he says nothing. It’s not until you meet Aemond’s gaze that you realize it was more of a question than a comment.

You try to laugh it off as a joke. “I’m going to bathe before bed, so I'd rather you both left.”

Aegon smirks at your response.

Aemond simply nods his head, turns the other way, and leaves with Aegon without saying another word.

—

You rub at your skin, desperate to get the smell of Aegon off you. Usually you loved the smell of your lover lingering in the air, but not when Aemond was around. You always feared he’d smell Aegon on you. The thought of how paranoid you’d become almost made you laugh out loud. Most of the time, you were invisible to your husband; if you ever did leave, he would be the last to notice.

In the years you’d been married, he had yet to show any real interest in being your husband, which is why your affair with Aegon was so easy to carry on despite the guilt that occasionally overwhelmed you. It wasn’t until you gave birth that you understood your mother's comment. Aemond would always put the family name first, but Aegon would put you first.

Your relationship with Aegon wasn’t just based on sex, although he had become addicted to fucking you like he claimed he would. He would take you anywhere he could, and not just with his cock. He loved using his mouth and fingers to make you scream and beg for him. But the way he made you feel safe and loved was the best part; he adored all three of your children. Your days were spent playing with your children, riding dragons, or sitting beside him reading or talking. But you knew if anyone else found out, they would never understand.

Once you finished bathing, you waited for a couple of hours, but when Aemond didn’t return, you decided to go to bed. After changing into a nightdress and unbraiding your hair, you crawl underneath the bed sheets, feeling your eyes heavy. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

—

Feeling a dip in the bed beside you, you turn to see what's going on, and you’re shocked to see Aemond getting in the bed. The moonlight was the only source of light, making it hard to read the expressions on his face. “Aemond, what are you doing?”

You freeze, feeling his lips press against yours. “I am your husband.”

You’re taken aback by the playfulness in his voice; it's an unfamiliar sound. You remained stunned as Aemond started kissing your neck. Your shared intimate moments usually consisted of you lying fully dressed while Aemond did what he needed to quickly. The kisses shared were usually out of curiosity, and foreplay wasn’t something you’d ever done before.

Aemond gently pushes you back onto the bed before removing his clothes. He lay back down beside you and resume kissing your neck while his hand caresses your breast. “I’ve never seen you before,” he says, his breath sounding ragged. “Not truly, not all of you.”

You gasped when he pulled down the front of your nightdress so that your breasts were on full display. Aemond sits back and pushes the fabric up to your hips, but for the first time, he actually looks down at your sex instead of avoiding it. He mumbled something you can’t make out then kissed you, his hand running up and down your thigh.

You cup the side of his face and sigh, “You don’t need to do this. You don’t need... do more than you want.”

“You are my wife,” Aemond says, moving to cup your warm slit, his finger teasing the entrance. “I must admit that I have neglected my duties in attending to your needs.”

Something inside you stirs—an emotion you can’t place.

“Tonight I’m going to put another heir into you.” Aemond slides a finger into you, kissing you at the same time.

Not knowing what to do with your hands, you place them gently on his back. Aemond withdraws his finger and lines himself up with you, then slams into you. Removing his lips from yours, he takes as much of your breast into his mouth while squeezing the other with his free hand. You arch your back and let out a small moans he takes you roughly.

Aemond doesn’t last long and cums quickly, pressing his head against yours and breathing heavily. He pecks you on the lips, pulling out and rolling to his side. You wait for him to leave, but when he closes his eye, you realise he has no intention of going. You face the other way, close your eyes, and pray that morning comes quickly.

—

You collapse onto the bed, panting and gasping; Aemond was most definitely determined to get you pregnant. At first, you weren’t overly worried because you had plenty of time to drink moon tea, but it was now much more difficult considering he had sex with you twice since waking up.

You wanted to know what brought on this unusual behavior. You wanted to ask Aemond why he even wanted another child when he hardly saw the three he believed were his. He didn’t return from his travels for over a week the last time you gave birth; he briefly visited the twins in their nursery then left again.

“You don’t sleep well, do you?” Aemond asks while putting his clothes back on.

“No, the dreams I have keep me awake.”

Aemond looks intrigued. “Do you get them often?”

Growing up, your brothers would mock you and Helaena; they would call you weird. Of course Aegon stopped long ago; he was the only one you ever truly confided in. “Yes, I’ve been having the same one for years.”

“What do you see?” Aemond sat down on a chair facing the bed; he seemed serious. “In the past, I never listened, but I’m asking you to trust me enough to tell me.”

You feel ashamed. Aemond wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t love you or your children. “It’s hard to describe. It’s not just what I see; it’s what I feel,” You clutch a pillow to your chest. “I’m in the sky, surrounded by clouds. The sun is shining down on me, and then it disappears. Then I’m falling, and I feel this intense feeling that's trying to suffocate me, like a weight being pressed down on my chest. Then I hear it—a woman screaming. I think she’s dying because her whole world turns black.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until the wetness runs off your cheeks. Feeling awkward, you wipe them away. Aemond gulps, “I’m sorry; I never realized your nights were plagued by such images. Do you ever have other dreams?”

“Yes, I had a vision of our nephew Jace dying. So I sent a raven to Dragonstone, making sure he was okay.” It wasn't until you became a mother that you understood your family's hatred towards your nephews was pointless.

He seems surprised by your honesty. “Well, I’m sure your mind will be at rest knowing he is alive. But I don’t think you should waste your generosity on them, and I definitely don’t want Aeron interacting with bastards.”

“Your fight with the Velaryon boys is not mine, and it’s definitely not my children’s.” Aemond glared at you but didn’t argue. You let out a deep breath, feeling exhausted. “Speaking of the children, I should probably go check on them.”

“I’m sure our dear brother has beaten you to it,” he snorts. “I should thank him really. He gave me some good counsel last night, which was surprising given the state he was in.”

“What did he say?”

“Something along the lines of how ungrateful I was and that I needed to cherish you before you were gone for good. I assured him I wouldn’t let you or the children out of my sight from now on, in case you disappear,” he chuckles darkly. “But he did make me see that I need to make more of an effort, and now that I’m here, he won’t need to be around you or them so much.”

The emotion you couldn’t place before returns, but now you can name what it was.

Fear.

Horrible, agonizing fear that something terrible was going to happen.

1K notes · View notes

valleyof-goldenlilies · 9 months

Text

Avarice and Arrogance (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Aemond Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

Synopsis: Aemond was always confident that he could protect you and his family from any threat, but the Gods had to dole out a lesson for his impunity, and a particularly cruel one at that.

Warnings: TW! Character death, violence, torture, angst, Aemond being somewhat toxic??

Word Count: 2.6K words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for the reader. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: You guys asked for angst, I delivered an overdose. I hope you enjoy, although I’m not very proud of this one shot. Inspired after overplaying the epic version of Aegon’s Coronation theme. Ramin Djawadi is my true King of the Seven Kingdoms

wonderful dividers credited to @firefly-graphics

“He whispered his final wish that his firstborn son, Aegon, should succeed him!”

To anyone, Prince Aemond seemed the portrait of composure: his arms clasped behind his back, his expression cool and disinterested. Yet if one looked closely enough, they would see the tension in his jaw, his teeth gritted, his posture bordering more on stiff than of calmness. His lone violet eye glittered as he observed Aegon walking under the raised swords of the knights, looking as recalcitrant as always.

‘Had that been me…’ he thought bitterly, ‘I would’ve carried myself with pride. The smallfolk would’ve took one look at me and trusted that I had the greatness, the capability, to lead House Targaryen into the apex of our power.’

‘And yet,’ Aemond mused to himself as his mother kissed Aegon on the forehead, ‘reality is often disappointing.’

His fists clenched at his sides. It was unfair, his brother was naught but a wastrel, a fool constantly drunk in his cups and oft found buried in the tits of some common whore. What right had he to rule, save for being the firstborn son? How could someone as useless as him be Lord of the Seven Kingdoms? Even with their grandsire by his side giving him counsel, when his half sister received word of the coronation, and of their father’s death…Aemond dreaded to think what would happen. Would Aegon be able to rise up to the defence of their family?

Aemond took a deep breath to steady himself, when suddenly, he felt a warm hand grasping his, gently unclenching his fingers from his tightly formed fist. Surprised, he looked over to the unexpected source of comfort. His lady wife stood next to him, an indifferent expression on her lovely face as she kept her eyes fixed on the smallfolk. He noticed that she was holding his sweet sister, Helaena’s hand in her other hand, and his mind halted in its baleful, raging course to settle on her instead, admiring her.

My beautiful, brilliant lady wife.

She would’ve been the most wonderful queen, he thought, and the wave of resentment began its course once more. As if sensing the switch in Aemond’s thoughts, she squeezed his hand lightly in hers. Aemond marvelled at his wife, amazed at how she always could sense the slightest shifts in his moods, even when her eyes were not on him. And just like that, the worry and the resentment fell away, and his envy for his brother became a little easier to bear, even just for that moment.

But…he felt a sense of strangeness creep over him as he took in his wife’s features. Her face was impassive, but it was hard and cold, as if she did not approve of this very scene. As Aegon raised Blackfyre and rallied the crowd, and his wife squeezed Helaena’s hand tighter, Aemond realised that mayhaps her gesture was not done solely out of comfort, but for anxiety.

For fear.

You were chewing on your bottom lip, Helaena’s hand still in yours as you both stewed in contemplative silence, each engulfed with thoughts and worries of your own. Aemond frowned as he watched his sister and his beloved. Aegon had ridden in a separate wheelhouse with their mother and grandsire, and mayhaps it was for the better, given the gloomy atmosphere.

When they were back in the safety of their apartments, Aemond followed his wife’s every movement in rapt attention. You began unravelling the tight updo that your hair was in, running your hands through your long locks pensively. It was done now…you were true traitors to the Crown. You sighed, wanting nothing more than to crawl in bed and hope that this was nothing but an unpleasant dream.

Suddenly, you felt warm arms engulfing you from behind. Aemond dropped his chin onto his beloved’s shoulder as he embraced her, breathing in her scent. “Tell me what troubles you, my love,” his voice husky.

You shook your head slightly, trying to mask your thoughts. “Tis nothing, my love. I swear it.”

Aemond chuckled, a dark and soft sound. “Liar.”

He spun his beloved round to face him, taking note of her expression. “I know you are worried,” his voice was soft, “We are husband and wife, my love. Whatever troubles you hold, I want to know all of it. We swore before the Gods, did we not? To share each other’s burdens? We will honour our vows, do we not?”

Your lips twisted slightly, trying not to grimace. “If vows were of any matter to us, then we would not have committed such a grave sin.” Aemond frowned, the reasons for his wife’s anxiety suddenly becoming apparent to him. “Aegon is the King now,” he reminded her, “My father named him so.”

You let out a humourless snort. “He was an old man, half senile and drunk on the Milk of Poppy.” Aemond opened his mouth as if to protest, but you continued before he could. “The late king had named Rhaenyra as his heir. Even when the Stranger drew close, he had forsaken his health and braved through his pain to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim during Vaemond’s speech. Does the Hand expect all of Westeros to believe the King changed his mind all of a sudden on his deathbed? It is insanity, and even a deaf fool would know better.”

“Enough,” Aemond’s voice was low, tinged with warning. “You will not insult my grandsire like this. It is done now, and that is the truth.” You persisted, however. “Putting that aside, Rhaenyra will seek to have all our heads when the news breaks. How can your grandsire be as foolish as to put all of us in danger like this?”

Aemond arched a brow, “Is that what you’re worried about?” “Are you not worried about that?” Aemond laughed, “We have dragons, my love. I should think Vhagar, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre are enough to defend us. That whore on Dragonstone will soon realise that she can get angry, and she can spit and curse all she wants, but she cannot match against our might.”

You looked unconvinced, which irked Aemond a little. Why was she so worried? “Do not tell me,” his voice was low with menace, “That you are loyal to Rhaenyra. That you are sympathetic to that whore’s cause.” You kept mum, but your eyes told Aemond everything he needed to know. He snarled, moving to pin you against the wall.

Your eyes widened with panic, your hands moving to push Aemond away, but he held your wrists in a vice grip. You had never seen him so angry with you before. “You are my wife,” he hissed angrily, “Your priorities should lie with me, with my family. Our family. In keeping us safe from that accursed whore and my uncle.” “And making Aegon king, usurping the rightful queen, is supposed to keep us safe?” You argued, unintimidated. “Have you lost all your senses, Aemond? We are traitors! Usurpers! You claim protecting your family is your priority, but yet you allow your grandsire to risk our lives for his mad grab for power!” Aemond’s grip tightened on your wrists, causing you to wince and fall silent. Aemond took notice of that, but he couldn’t let you go. Not just yet. He needed to make his point.

“I said, do not speak of my grandsire in that manner,” he seethed. “He is my family, and I will not tolerate you insulting him.” He took a deep breath, letting go of his wife’s wrists, and she took the chance to push him away before fleeing to their bed. He sighed and sat down next to her, but she only moved away and folded her arms, turning her back on him. He heard a soft sniffle, and he realised with horror that she was crying. He had made her cry.

A pang of guilt shot through Aemond’s heart, and he tentatively reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, dismayed when she flinched away from his touch. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, my love,” he said quietly, “I got carried away, and I hurt you. I apologise for that.” He saw her shoulders lose some of their tension at his apology, and a glimmer of hope shone in his violet eye. Mayhaps he could make her see his viewpoint after all. He knew of her house’s loyalty to Rhaenyra’s claim, and how she might be swayed to support Rhaenyra’s claim, but she had to see. That this was the best for their family.

“My love…” he bit his lip, “I know my words were harsh, but it is true. What is done is done. Even if I dislike Aegon being on the throne, he is my brother. If Rhaenyra had taken the throne, she would’ve had us executed. She would not suffer any presence that could be a threat to her claim to the throne. Even if she did not, there is no doubt Daemon would.” He took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Rhaenyra is impulsive, violent and reckless. You saw how she took off Vaemond’s head when his only crime was speaking the truth. Her son blinded me when we were naught but boys,” Aemond’s voice became hard. “If we allow her to ascend the throne, that means that the Strong bastard, Jace, would ascend the throne after her. Do you really think the realm would really bow before him?”

Your hard gaze softened a little, and Aemond saw a window of opportunity. “Think rationally, my love,” Aemond pleaded softly, “My father may have named Rhaenyra the heir, but it is an irreplaceable fact that the lords of Westeros would never bow before her. The Seven Kingdoms would plunge into chaos, do you really want that?” Aemond raised her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “I know you’re afraid of Rhaenyra’s wrath, but I ask of you to trust me. Trust that I will keep us safe, no matter what.”

“...I’m not sure if you can, Aemond.” Aemond’s heart dropped, “Whatever do you mean?” You finally turned to face him, and he was alarmed when he took note of the tears glistening at the corner of your eyes. “Aemond…I’m with child. For nearly three moons now.”

Aemond swore his heart stopped at that very moment. But his shock only lasted briefly before he pulled you into his arms, voice filled with excitement and wonder, “You’re with child? Our child?” When he broke the embrace, you were surprised to see the corner of his violet eye wet. Aemond dropped to his knees in front of you, stroking his hand over your stomach reverently, in disbelief almost. “We’re going to be parents…” he murmured, “I’m going to be a father.”

But even in Aemond’s joy, you could not find it in yourself to smile. Not with the threat of the impending succession war. Aemond noticed your discomfort, but nothing could take away the happiness he felt at the moment. “My love, you don’t have to be afraid,” his voice was reassuring, “I swear on my honour, on the Old Gods and the New, on the Seven and all my ancestors, that I would burn the world to ashes on Vhagar before I let anyone lay a finger on you or our child.” He took your hand, cradling it in his, tilting his head upwards, a pleading look in his eye, for you to believe in him, to trust him to keep you safe.

“But even all the dragons in this world will not keep us from reaping the fate we sowed,” you said quietly, eyes never leaving Aemond’s. “The gods will strike us down for our treason.”

Aemond rolled his eye, exasperated that his wife just didn’t seem to grasp the true extent of their power. “We are Targaryens, my love,” Aemond said self-assuredly. “We possess dragons, the largest, most dangerous and powerful creatures in the world. The gods may try as they might, but they can never strike us down. Seven hells, I would dare say we are the gods, my love,” Aemond chuckled at how your eyes widened at his brazen words. “For what other than a god can mount a dragon, and command it?” “Don’t say things like that, Aemond,” you were aghast, “The Seven will-”

“Fuck the Seven,” Aemond said bluntly. “When men pray, the Gods never answer. Why should we fear the consequences inflicted upon us by some unknown higher power?” He resumed his seat on their bed, pulling you back into his embrace and gently stroking your hair. “We need not fear the Gods, my love,” he murmured softly. “You will see soon enough, when war comes, and the Gods do nothing to interfere, then you will come to revere them less. In the meantime, you will come to see who the true gods are, when our dragons raze the earth and win this godforsaken war.”

It was known to all that the gods despise hubris, and perhaps they were watching that evening, when you laid your head on Aemond’s chest with a sigh and allowed him to soothe and comfort you, making promises that he would keep you safe no matter what.

Aemond had been so sure in his words, so confident in his beliefs and in his abilities, and blinded by his ego. Mayhaps this was what drove him when he bade Vhagar prowl around Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon Arrax in the stormy skies of Storms’ End, shouting for the Strong bastard to repay the debt he owed.

Mayhaps his pride was what had blinded him to the possibility that he could never keep his family safe after his act of kinslaying.

But he knew for sure that he had regretted making an enemy of the gods when he saw you, eyes wide with fear, a sharp dragonglass blade to your throat as you were held hostage by some cutpurse. An eye for an eye, a son for a son, the cutpurse had grinned, before slitting your throat and lodging the dagger into your stomach.

It mattered not how much Aemond had howled with grief as he held your lifeless frame in his arms, begging for you to wake up. It mattered not when Aemond personally tortured your assassin with the most vicious methods he could devise, flaying every inch of skin from his body until he had expired. Even in death, he was not spared of Aemond’s wrath. His body was marked with incisions when it was finally fed to Vhagar, courtesy of Aemond cutting out his heart and crushing it with his bare hands. It mattered not when Aemond had sworn to avenge you no matter the cost, to cut down Daemon Targaryen and give him the same treatment he had for the cutpurse. It took the combined efforts of the Queen Dowager, Queen Helaena, King Aegon, the Hand, and many other lords and knights of the Kingsguard to prevent him from mounting Vhagar upon the cutpurse’s death to fly to Dragonstone. A fool’s folly, they called it, but Aemond had drawn his sword and snarled at them to get out of his way, lest they wish to be the recipient of Vhagar’s flames. It was only when Alicent motioned for Ser Criston to deliver a blow that rendered Aemond unconscious that they could restrain him at all.

A part of Aemond had died that day, and he rained curses upon the Seven, on his uncle, on his wretched half-sister as he took his seat in the Small Council, being the advocate for absolute and brutal violence against the Blacks. And yet he did not repent for looking down upon the gods, not even till the day when he faced his uncle Daemon in battle and died in the cursed halls of Harrenhal. Another casualty of the Dance of the Dragons.

After all, even the Valyrian dragonlords of old had not been able to escape the Stranger’s clutches when death came for them. And Aemond Targaryen was no different.

...i’m very sorry :( but I swear, happier Aemond one shots are coming 😭

Aemond General Taglist: @aiyaiy

Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist! If you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :) thank you for reading! 💗

465 notes · View notes

happilyhertale · 9 months

Text

Aemond Targaryen

Long Lost Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7a, Part 7b, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Long Last Love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Sense of duty - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Sense of duty (II) - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Everlasting love - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

The battlefield of women - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Love at first sight - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Love at first sight (II) - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

The bane of my existence - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Breaking Dawn - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Voiceless - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Sinful desires – Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader x Aemond Targaryen

Emerald eyes - Aemond Targaryen x fem!stark-reader

12 Days of Smuff

478 notes · View notes

thebadboyfanclub · 1 year

Text

Lead The Way (Aemond x Reader)

So I wanted to write something that was inspired by the kind of love morticia and Gomez had so this is what I came up with, it’s very rare that I find something completely fluffy for Aemond, I hope you guys feel like this as well

The love that (y/n) Dayne and Aemond Targaryen held for one another remained in history for centuries, the couple had seemed to fall in love at first sight.

(Y/n) had been invited to court for Heleanas and Aegons wedding, a young girl at the time dressed in her house colors of purple, her hair was up in a fancy style so you could see the mixture of silver hair with her raven black locks, Aemond had stared at her hair for the entire ceremony, to him it resembled like the gold locks were lighting that struck the earth, she was perfect as she stood with her shoulders held back and whispered stuff to her friend that was the second daughter of the Martell line.

How could have Aemond known (y/n) was whispering about him? She was taken by the prince with the long Maine and the mysterious eye patch, she found the scar utterly intriguing and almost fitting for the frame of his face, scars tell a story and (y/n) wanted to read all about it.

“Pardon for the intrusion, could I ask for the lady (y/n)s hand for a dance?”

“Lead the way, my prince”

They did not utter a word for the entirety of the dance, they just gawked at one another with a smirk, it was like their souls were twirling around as the other couples felt like they were interrupting a wonderful union that blossomed in front of everyone’s eyes, they moved like one, and gazed in each other's hues like they knew everything about the other.

“I believe this wedding is only the beginning for my family”

“I believe so”

Otto agreed with his daughter, the scene that was unfolding could not say otherwise, the two younglings were made from the same cloth and fate finally managed to stitch them together, what was the problem was that (y/n) was the intended for Lord Blackmont, the buzz that was created behind (y/n)s absence on the boat that escorted the others back to Dorne was scandalous, to say the least.

Alas, the Martells stepped in and allowed the new match to occur, everyone expected the wedding to be in King's Landing, but to everyone’s surprise, the wedding took place in Dorne, (y/n)s homeland, the queen's words of concern fell on deaf ears, Aemond had been completed bewitched by his lady wife so whatever said went.

“She misses her home, I will make this gift to her”

Aemond had simply responded to Alicent, he did not care about anything besides her, his wonderful wife from Dorne that painted her lips red and smelled like honey, the way he looked at her brought everyone in awe, (y/n) was the most precious thing that Aemond could reach.

“How does it feel to be a part of the Targaryen line?”

“I must say I believe you are the perfect match for my first husband”

She joked before Aemond brought her to sit on his lap, the court had raved about how affectionate the prince was with his lady wife, always having her arms reach and placing kisses on her hands, cheeks, and lips, sometimes he would even grace her long hair like he was caressing the finest of silks.

Even Vhagar had taken a liking to the Dayne lady, letting her ride on her back with Aemond and sniffing her around when she was staring close enough, Aemond was the only one from his family that was blessed with the true love of a woman.

“Good morrow, apologies for being late we got distracted”

Aemond explained as he escorted his lady wife who had flustered cheeks and a playful smile on her face, Aegon let out a chuckle at the sight of the couple that acted as if they had just met even after years had passed, Alicent did not speak, (y/n) had brought joy to her boys' life but she still did not appreciate such public displays of affection, he was a prince, not a commoner.

“How are you, good sister?”

“The babe has been quiet today, hopefully, the birth will be as swift as the last one”

“You are glowing, pregnancy sits well with you”

“Indeed, maybe you will have the same glow, soon enough”

Alicent was a polite woman for most of the time, still, the whispers over (y/n)s flat stomach after being married for more than a year was like a cloud that collected storms over her head, Aemond and (y/n) had discussed it and agreed that it wasn’t a necessity to have children if they were meant to be parents it will come on its own.

Aemond only leaned closer and brought his wife's hand to him, as a sign of support and to take the lead in the conversation, he did not take well on the small remarks that anyone threw at his (y/n).

“My (y/n) glows every morrow and night, not that my sister does not but I must say that I enjoy having her affections all to myself, some could even call me too greedy to have a child”

Aemond explained and winked at his wife before he took every single tip of her fingers from her right hand and gave it a gentle kiss leaving last the back of her palm whilst (y/n) smiled at him and cheekily scrunched her nose.

Alicent did not hate (y/n), on the contrary she thought (y/n) was a wonderful wife and Aemond was happy so as a mother all she needed was to see her child content, their love ran deep, deep enough to make the servants spread rumours and speculations across kings landings that (y/n) had secretly been giving Aemond a love potion to drink every night, to keep him by her side.

(Y/n) laughed at the accusations, she thought it was somewhat grim but with a splash of humour that people found it so peculiar for a man to adore his lady wife and be loyal to her that she must be a witch, she must have been scheming cause there is no way for a man to be honourable.

“I must say brother I never expected you to be so… erotically tireless”

“This is not a subject to be discussed at the table”

Alicent cut the conversation short much to (y/n)s amusement. A part of her felt pity for the queen, forced to marry a man twice her age and took a wild guess that her beddings were taken more as a duty of a husband and wife than a pleasurable act between lovers, still to be so visibly discussed by the simple mention of laying with your husband was baffling to (y/n).

“Lord Blackmont send a raven today, his wife has birthed him a son”

“Mother, I thought I made myself clear when I said to never mention that name again”

“My dear do not scold your mother I am certain she meant no harm”

“You were his intended”

“Well I was a young girl and I liked the way his eyes were so dark you could not recognize where his pupil started”

“Please, promise me to never speak of him”

“I promise, Ñuha jorrāelagon” (my love)

(Y/n) pressed on Aemonds soft spot, she learned Valyrian just for him and Aemond adored the way it rolled off her tongue, often he would ask her to read books of anything in Valyrian just to listen to her poetic voice fill his ears like the best of music ever known to man.

Aemond leaned even further to her and snaked his arm around her just so he can rest his lips on her cheek, some would swear that Aemonds lips were dripping syrup from how sweet he was being with (y/n).

“Now, time for something with substance, my dearest love, I know I could never replace the wonderful starlight but allow me to try with this”

Starlight was (y/n)s horse that her father had gifted to her for her name day, (y/n) and Starlight shared a bond like no other, unfortunately, his hoof was infected and brought Starlight immense pain, (y/n) cried for the entire day.

Aemond raised his hand and motioned to the servant to come around with this big box, the others had to take (y/n)s plates aside so it won’t break anything, curiosity overwhelmed her enough to get up from her chair and gently open the lid, revealing the most adorable little kitten that meowed loudly, it could not have been more than a week old, she yelped from excitement as she picked it up to admire the all-black little thing that had bright eyes and somewhat tried to claw at her from fear of the new environment.

“Oh my love, it is perfect”

“Brother you exceed everyone’s expectations every time, that is such a thoughtful gift”

Heleana praised her brother, (y/n) nodded in agreement to her good sister and brought the kitty close to her chest after she kissed it on top of his head.

“I am a mere man that wants to make his wife happy, what should we name her?”

“Nightfall”

“Very fitting”

“She is probably hungry and scared, poor thing, we should ask for milk from the kitchen, come with me, my love”

“Excuse us, we have a new baby to tend to”

Aemond rushed to explain as he skipped towards his wife who was running out the door, both of them giggling from excitement for the new member of their family.

It was a certain odd sensation, after the loud shut of the door it almost felt like they had taken the light out of the room with them, leaving Heleana who only cared for her children and suffered through a marriage of convenience, Aegon who scoffed at duty and anything that had to do with his family and only seemed to lighten up when he was intoxicated and queen Alicent, a creation of her father as Otto pulled the strings and Alicent obliged by anything he made her believe to be true.

Per (y/n)s request a small bowl of milk was brought to her in their shared chambers and little nightfall was drinking and purring on their bed while (y/n) was petting her, to even think that such a small thing would make the lady jump up and down from joy and turn to a young girl again, Aemond was content with admiring (y/n) that was as bright as the sun, laying next to the small creature with her hair scattered on the sheets.

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic”

“Wonderful, that is all I needed to hear, now nightfall will continue to drink her milk on the floor”

Aemond carefully took the kitten in his hands along with the bowl and placed it on the side before he jumped on the bed and positioned himself on top of (y/n) who giggled at the sneaky attack of her husband, still when Aemond leaned to kiss her she replied with the same affection that she always did.

“And I will finally get to enjoy my wife”

“You “enjoyed your wife” before we went to break our fast”

“Yes but that seems like an eternity ago”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed my sweet I believe if you do not kiss me I will just simply perish away”

“Oh we can’t let that happen now”

Aemond was known to be a stoic character, a prince that was hard to read and extremely unpredictable, ever since the eye incident he had stepped away from the concept of friendships or any type of bonds that did not include his immediate family members, that was only true when (y/n) was not around, the second she would strut in a room Aemond dropped everything to be by her side and kiss some part of her body.

(Y/n) on her end was the definition of a loving wife, she advised him, and even though she was more shuttle with the acts of love everyone would notice it, how she would not allow anyone to bathe him, how she would attend to every single one of his sword training, even learning Valyrian for him.

“I wish to talk about the subject your mother brought up”

“There is nothing-“

“I would love to have a babe but-“

“Heleana is about to give birth to another child, our nephew or niece will soon grace us, if we have our own it will be a lovely matter, until then we shall spoil them”

He reassured her, a smile of relief was painted on her face and Aemond kissed her once again on the lips, and nose so he can end on her forehead, the euphoric sensation of being able to firmly say that her lord husband knows that the fate of getting pregnant is not entirely in your hands is something only a handful of ladies could speak about, (y/n) allowed her hand to go up and leave a gentle caress on Aemonds cheek that he wholeheartedly accepted and even leaned to her palm.

“I meant what I said to my mother, I like having your devoted attention”

His voice was hushed as he stared deeply into her eyes in order to make her believe that he meant every word of what he was saying, he would kill for her, he would die for her, anything in order to make certain she was happy and safe Aemond was willing to do, (y/n) was Aemonds sanctuary away from all that could sadden him, if it weren’t for her Aemond would have been stuck to a loveless marriage like the one his mother had suffered through.

“Well then allow me to show you the benefits of that, my prince”

Requests are open!

531 notes · View notes

squishycheekanon · 1 month

Text

‘If I had only seen how you smile when you blush’

96 notes · View notes

cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

Heyy bestie,

Just want to say your writting is amazing. I saw you have your oneshots opens; may I pls request giving aemond a blowie? Idk but seeing such a powerful man reduces to moans is just really hot to me. Sorry if you don't write nsfw !!! Feel free to ignore this if it goes against any of your rules :)))

Um yes, I am totally down for that haha and Aemond is too ;)

And what better way to celebrate 1,000 followers than by giving Aemond a blowjob?

Aemond x f!reader | shameless smut

Aemond’s eye blazed violet fire, his lustful gaze locked on your lips as you flicked your tongue out to wet them. As you so often noticed yourself doing, you had found the prince striding down the stone corridor after his daily sparring session. You had taken his hand and pulled him through the nearest door, which proved entry to no more than a small space used to store cleaning supplies.

He had allowed you to back him against a wall, trying to make as little noise as possible, your hands running along his taut body. You kissed him hard, your lips moving against his, Aemond humming softly as he returned your heated embrace. You undid the golden clasps of his leather tunic, baring the skin of his chest for your fingers to explore. In his turn, Aemond reached down to grip your backside, urging you against his hardening length.

“Y/N, this is hardly the place I wish to make love to you in.” Aemond looked around at the cramped quarters, eyeing the nearby shelving with distaste.

You glanced down, mischief in your smile, making a point of examining the evidence of Aemond’s arousal before looking back to him, eyebrow raised. “We can’t have you walking around the Red Keep like this, my prince.”

His hips bucked involuntarily into your hand as you reached forward to cup him lightly through his trousers. “I-ah-can walk close behind you as we make great haste to my chambers.”

“I have a better idea…” You gently ran the back of your fingers down his cheek before slowly lowering yourself to a kneeling position, your hands coming to grip his hips.

“Y/N…” Aemond’s voice was uncertain, though he carded his fingers through your hair, before gripping lightly.

You pulled at the trousers he wore, sliding them down until you freed his hard member, running one of your hands along the hot length of him. Aemond’s grasp on your braided hair tightened as he sucked in a sharp breath, a moan caught in his throat. You relished looking at him in this moment, drinking in each change in expression as you stroked him. Aemond’s mouth had fallen slightly open as he leaned his silver head back against the wall, his hooded eye never leaving your face. Unblinking, you leaned forward, beginning to lick and kiss at the base of his cock, coating it with your saliva.

Only when Aemond rewarded you with his first soft moan, did you take the head of his member into your warm mouth.

“Fuck, Y/N.” His hips shook as he controlled the urge to rut into your throat. Aemond ran his free hand through his own hair, arching his back against the wall as you took him deeper into your mouth.

The salty taste of him spread over your tongue as you continued licking and sucking, focusing on taking as much of his length as you could, while your hand stroked the rest of him. Your head bobbed, lewd wet sounds filling the small space the two of you occupied, accompanied by Aemond’s low grunts and gasps of pleasure.

He took control with his fist in your hair, bringing your face closer to him, letting instinct take over as he thrust into your eager mouth. “Gods, you are sinfully divine. Look at me.” Aemond’s pupil was dilated, he bit his bottom lip after each breathy sound of rapture that escaped him.

You moaned, so aroused by the look on his face and the noises he made. The vibration of your voice caused Aemond to swear again, louder this time, pushing so far into your throat you gagged around him. He seemed to like that, repeating the movement, causing you to choke on his cock. You held your breath for as long as you could, eyes watering as Aemond pressed himself wholly into your mouth, and you did your best to continue flicking your tongue against his throbbing manhood.

“I’m close.” It was a whisper amidst the incoherent lustful sounds he was making. “Y/N, take all of me.”

He gave you free reign of your movements once more, sliding his grip to the back of your neck instead as, with vigor, you continued sucking his twitching cock, swirling your tongue around the slick head. Aemond’s legs tensed, he hissed a warning before driving himself deep into your salivating mouth once more, hot cum spilling down your throat as you eagerly swallowed his climax. Your fingers dug into the flesh at his hips, encouraging him to press further against you. “Y/N.” Your name on Aemond’s lips sounded like a prayer. “Y/N, gods you are wicked.” You ran your tongue along his softened cock, cleaning him as best you could, before standing once more, your knees aching.

Aemond took your face in his hands, looking at you with wonder before bringing his lips to yours, tasting his own release. You eagerly entwined your tongue with his, eliciting another soft sound from your lover, echoing it with a whimper of your own. Aemond pulled away slightly to place a kiss to your forehead. “Remind me to have you pull us into dusty closets more often.” He pressed another warm kiss to your aching lips, hand tracing a path down the curves of your bodice.

Aemond reached down, gathering your skirts, hitching them up until you were exposed to him. His fingers found what they sought, causing you to jump at the sudden friction. He grinned at you. “You’re so wet for me.” He teased your slippery folds, rubbing a circle against your swollen clit. “Soaked through.” Aemond released you, drawing a whine from your throat. He brought his slick fingers to his mouth, tasting your arousal with a flick of his tongue. “All of a sudden, I feel quite parched.” He touched the same finger to your lips, his eye widening slightly as you sucked the digit into your mouth obediently. “You’re so good for me, Y/N.” Aemond kissed you once again before taking your hand in his. “Let’s continue this in my room, shall we?” He checked that the hallway outside was clear before leading you eagerly into the much cooler air.

#aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond imagine #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x female reader #pro aemond targaryen #aemond fanfic #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #prince aemond x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n

1K notes · View notes

acrossthesestars · 13 days

Text

The Many Names of Lady Wylla Karstark - they say i killed you (haunt me then)

I have been ruminating over the idea for a set like this for so long (waaaay before I even had an inkling of an idea of how to gif) and I was absolutely inspired by the incredible title set that @moireia created for her oc, Alyssa Snow.

Haunt Me is finally nearing the end (how are there only five chapters left?!) and I'm just so grateful for all of the support that I've had along the way - @jadore-andor and @emilykaldwen, I'm looking at you. Go read The Maiden and the Drowning Boy by Nat and check out Allana Tyrell, Mare's ASOIAF oc, if you want that good Aegon II content.

I will never not be in love with Wylla and Aemond and their romance and the family they built and held on to despite all the odds being stacked against them. If you've been along for their wild ride, thank you!

#aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryenedit #house of the dragon fic #aemond targaryen x oc #hotd fic #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x wylla #fyeahhotdocs #ocappreciation #fyeahasoiafocs #my edit #oc: wylla karstark

73 notes · View notes

optimizche · 1 year

Text

Missing (Part 8) [Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon]

Warnings: Smut (minors DNI), fluff, angst.

Watching the immense golden dragon land in the courtyard of the castle of Winterfell made your breath hitch. Shouts were heard of the Northern guards and their commanders preparing their weaponry in case of an attack. Within seconds, Jacaerys and you were running into the castle walls, ready to prepare your own dragons in the event of violence but were met with the sight of Aegon Targaryen, the usurper, calmly dismounting from Sunfyre's back. He shot a smirk at Jacaerys, giving you a rather mocking bow before making his way inside the castle.

Before he could take even a step inside the castle, his way was barred by the arrival of Lord Cregan Stark and his personal guards, all of them armed and prepared.

Aegon raised his hands in surrender before walking towards Cregan. "I come with a message, Lord Stark. There is no need for such commotion."

"You came on the back of your dragon, usurper," Jacaerys spat and Aegon waved a hand dismissively toward his nephew.

"Learn to speak when you are asked, dear nephew," he said, before turning to Lord Stark.

"It is a rarity that the King himself brings a message to a House."

"What is it that caused you to fly out here by yourself, My Lord?" Lord Cregan Stark asked, his brow quirking.

Aegon sneered. "I believe the term is "My King." I'll even be generous enough to accept Your Grace."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the utter pettiness of the Targaryen prince. It reminded you so much of Aemond.

Cregan and Jacaerys both remained silent, waiting.

"I come to Winterfell with terms for House Stark. Swear fealty to my cause and ask your bannermen to do the same and I shall allow you to rule Winterfell-"

"You shall allow me to rule Winterfell? The land of my forefathers? You?" Lord Cregan said, an amused smile gracing his lips. "You, who couldn't keep his own wife from bedding his own brother?"

You felt a smile creep up on your own lips, giving Jace's hand a squeeze. He gave you a wink.

"Agree to my terms and bring the North to my cause and I shall spare you from the wrath of my dragon's fire," Aegon threatened, an embarassed flush rising in his cheeks.

"Are you still down in your cups this morning, Uncle?" Jacaerys asked. "You are vastly outnumbered with our two dragons against one of yours."

"And Winterfell, along with the rest of the North, stands behind the firstborn son of the one true and rightful Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen," Lord Cregan Stark added.

It was priceless, seeing the flush of humiliation on Aegon's face. You had an inkling that it was the humiliation of your letters being sent all around the Seven Realms that had led him to take on this stunt of trying to threaten Winterfell to surrender, all by himself.

Aegon was nothing if not conceited and full of himself. You knew he was not going to take this indignity well.

"Fine," he said, turning to walk back toward his dragon, Sunfyre. "But I shall return to claim what is mine with fire and blood."

It was then, upon hearing the words of the Targaryen house, fire and blood, that something struck you. It was something you had often thought about these days.

"Wait! Aegon!" you called out, letting go of a bewildered Jace's hand and walking towards him with a determination in your feet.

The silver haired boy who called himself King turned towards you coolly. "You're asking the men to change their minds, My Lady?"

"Hardly, Aegon. I am surprised you do not recognise me yet-"

He suddenly grasped you by the arms, pulling you towards him until his lips were at your ear. "I know exactly who you are, My Lady. You were my little brother's confidant, my father's healer. I'm still quite stunned by how beautiful you've grown up to become."

You swallowed down the sudden taste of bile in your throat, the stench of strongwine emanating from the Targaryen making you nauseous. Also, it didn't help how his nails dug into the flesh of your forearms, like the claws of a dragon. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself.

"Aegon, I wish to ask you for your mercy," you said, your voice equally low. "For the sake of the time we spent together in our childhood, I beg for your clemency towards Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Please."

At the mention of the twins, Aegon pushed you away roughly. Jacaerys snarled, unsheathing his Valyrian steel dagger and stepping close to you protectively, ready to attack his uncle.

Reeling from Aegon's push, you placed a calming hand on Jacaerys' arm, pleading to him with your eyes to let you speak.

"And why do you care so much for the children?" Aegon asked.

"I care because they are children," you said. "They are innocent. They have done nothing to deserve the consequences for the sins of their parents, and you know that. You know that, Aegon. Think about it. You would not want a child bearing your name to be treated the way you were."

You could see on his face that he was considering your words, the gears in his mind working furiously. You knew that deep down, Aegon was not evil. He was a product of the years of abuse from his mother and grandfather.

He remained silent, contemplating, while you kept your hand on Jacaerys' arm, waiting.

"Fine," Aegon sneered. "Kneel before me and beg for my mercy for the children."

You stepped back, scoffing at the request. Of course, it wouldn't be Aegon if he didn't bully, belittle or insult someone to make his own inadequacies feel smaller.

"How dare you, you cunt!" Jacaerys growled, raising his dagger.

"No, Jace, please," you entreated, trying to stop him before he did something reckless.

Upon hearing your words, Jacaerys stared at you in disbelief, his eyes almost shouting I can't believe you're going to entertain him.

But the guilt that had been gnawing away at you ever since you had written those letters overpowered you and you slowly sank to your knees in front of Aegon. You knew full well that you should have despised Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in your right mind, for they were the product of Aemond's ultimate betrayal. But the threat to their innocent lives had invoked a great sense of remorse in you.

"I beg you to forgive Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, Aegon," you said, looking up at the rubies encrusted in the crown upon his head, pushing down the humiliation you felt. "I need you to give me your word."

"Gods do you look pretty on your knees like a-"

Before Aegon could even complete the sentence, Jacaerys slashed violently at him, cutting a clean gash on his right cheekbone.

"Jacaerys!" you gasped.

With a cry, Aegon fell backwards, his hand trying to stop the blood streaming from the cut.

In seconds, Lord Cregan Stark was holding back Jacaerys, preventing the Velaryon Prince from inflicting any further damage to the Targaryen, understanding the consequences of this attack. An all-out war could start right this second with Winterfell being the first casualty.

You rushed toward Aegon, kneeling beside him and placing your hand upon his face. "You always were a fool, Aegon. A slave to your own vices," you said, using your abilities to heal his cut. The flesh and skin sealed themselves seamlessly beneath your fingers. "Give me your word about the twins and begone. You'll end up dead otherwise."

"Gods be good, I give you my word," Aegon gave in, dazed by your healing skills. "The twins shall be unharmed."

"Now leave," you said, rising to your feet, leaving him on the ground. "Leave before our dragons burn you alive."

You returned to Jace's side, whispering calming words to help his anger subside as you led him to your chambers within the castle, not even waiting to watch Aegon depart.

Lord Cregan Stark and his men would ensure that Sunfyre and his rider were safely away and out of sight.

With a sigh, you sank underneath the surface of the water, immersing yourself in its welcoming heat that surrounded every inch of your bare skin.

Rising, you leaned your head back against the marbled wall of the enormous bath, inhaling the scent of lavender and jasmine infused oils.

After the incident in the courtyard this morning, Jacaerys had left you by yourself in the castle while he spent the day going on a hunt with Lord Stark and his men. It was something he needed to do to distract himself, he said. But you knew better. You, kneeling before Aegon, had hurt him. It wasn't so much about the lewd comment Aegon had made but the fact that you had knelt before the man who had stolen his mother's throne, that you had knelt before the man who's brother had once been your best friend in childhood. You had knelt before the man who's brother still remained somewhere in you heart.

As much as you had tried to console and calm Jacaerys, he had refused to listen to you, choosing to occupy his time with hunting stags.

You reached for the cup of wine resting on the side of the bath, taking a healthy sip of it, having already consumed quite a bit. This Northern wine was far more potent than the wines you were used to at Dragonstone, but you needed something to calm your nerves. It burned as it slid down your throat, its sweetness so heady on your tongue.

It puzzled you, your concern for the well-being of the twins. You should have felt hatred at best and indifference at worst for the children as they were a constant reminder of Aemond's actions, of the fact that he would never truly be yours.

And yet, you cared enough to kneel before Aegon to beg for their safety.

Why?

Was it to absolve the remorse you felt about writing those letters? Seeing how unfairly Jace, Luke and Joff had been treated because of their parentage that you wanted to shield the twins?

Or was it because, despite your best denials, you still felt something for Aemond?

Closing your eyes, you rested against the marble wall, breathing deeply as you felt the heat from the water sink into your flesh, warm you down to your bones. You could feel your guilt dissolve into nothingness, the heat that enveloped your body giving you a sense of comfort albeit temporarily.

It was the sound of footsteps that brought you back from your mind and you saw Jacaerys walking into the room when you opened your eyes.

"I am sorry," you whispered, suddenly feeling sheepish. "I should not have done that. I don't know why I did it."

Jace sat down on the ledge of the bath, still dressed in his hunting leathers. "You still love Aemond," he said, his expression unreadable. "You felt like his children suffered on the account of their bastardy and you tried to make it right. I just wish someone had tried to do the same thing for me instead of repeatedly brushing it under the carpet."

You felt your heart break upon hearing the crack in his voice. "Jacaerys," you looked up into his eyes. "I love you, too. I just… He still remains somewhere in me and I can't get rid of him."

The dark haired Prince smiled ruefully. "Don't you see? This is history repeating itself, my darling. My mother's lover was Ser Harwin even though her heart truly belonged to Daemon. I'm only your lover, while your heart belongs to-"

"Stop it, please," you said, suddenly feeling tears in your eyes. "Jacaerys, I love you. For the first time in a long time, I feel hope with you."

"You don't have to say that. I wish I was enough for you…"

"You are!" you said, grasping his hands in yours, suddenly remembering how awful you had felt when you had spoken the exact same words to Aemond in the cave near Storm's End. And you said what you wished he had said back. "You are enough and more. I… I don't deserve you. I don't deserve you, Jace."

The tears that had brimmed in your eyes now fell freely as you placed your forehead to his hands. "I don't know why you've chosen to waste your time on someone as broken as me when you could have any woman in the Seven Realms…"

"I don't want any other woman, I want you."

"I need time, Jacaerys. Please," you breathed, your tears falling onto his hands. "After wasting all these years pining for a man who cast me aside at the first opportunity he got, I find myself unable to put my faith in anyone else but myself. I know that you will never hurt me and that I should be grateful to your mother and your family for taking me in when I needed help the most, but-"

"You owe us nothing, my darling," Jacaerys said, before placing a kiss to your crown. "I am willing to wait for as long as it takes you. Just… Don't ever kneel and beg before a man like Aegon, no matter how noble your intentions are. My uncles are truly despicable and far, far beneath you. They do not deserve your goodness, do you understand? Not anymore."

His hands cupped your face, tilting your chin until you were looking up at him. "Viserys was my grandsire, but all his and the Hightowers' family did was take advantage of your kindness. You've exhausted so much of yourself for them. You've had your heart broken by them. I only wish for you to become your own woman, the woman who I see in you. You don't need Aemond by your side, and you don't even need me to be who you truly are. Don't squander away your life for them, I beg you."

"I won't. I won't," you agreed, furiously wiping away at your tears before asking him about the hunt.

Knowing that you had had enough regarding the incident with Aegon, Jacaerys told you about the elks and boars the hunting party managed to kill, undressing and climbing into the bath with you, the conversation turning from significant to light-hearted.

You leaned back against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as he held you close, bringing the smile back to your face while regaling you with the details of his hunt.

It was easy as breathing, with Jacaerys, you thought, closing your eyes as he spoke about the silliness of Lord Cregan's squires, the two of you quietly chuckling away.

You lay in his arms, for how long you could not tell, revelling in the gentleness of his touch. In the amber candlelight illuminating the bath, you watched your fingers lace into his under the surface of the water. His touch was always so tender, so kind and he held you with such care, a stark contrast to the cruelty of Aegon's push and the time when Aemond had cut into your hand with his sword.

"You are so kind to me…" you murmured, turning to place a kiss on his jaw. "Always."

"That is because I love you," he responded, placing a kiss to your shoulder.

"Tell me," you asked, raising your intertwined hands above the surface of the water to see how fragile your hand looked, resting safely in his sturdy grasp. "What can I do to make up for my folly today?"

A devilish smile curved into his lips as his other hand slowly crept into the space between your legs. "I can think of a way…"

The silhouettes of your bodies were illuminated by the candles in the bedchamber. In the mirrored glass nearby, your eyes were fixed on your reflections. You, with your legs straddling the dark haired Prince, rising and falling in the most delectable rhythm, your damp hair a curtain down your bare back. Jacaerys lay against the pillows underneath you, his hands having found purchase on your slender waist, guiding you to ride him the just way he preferred. Even though it was you who was on top, it was Jacaerys who maintained absolute control.

"Look at you," he praised. "Look at the way your skin flushes in the candlelight, the red in your lips from my kisses, the lustful haze that clouds your eyes. Look at how easily you take all of me inside you. Watch how I sink into you only to emerge glistening in your arousal. Do you see, my darling?"

You nodded, your own head falling back at the sensation this position elicited from you. "Gods, Jace, you're so deep-" your words morphed into a moan as you lost yourself in the delicious drag of his cock against your clenching, velvety walls. It felt so full, like he was carving the shape of him inside you.

Having been at this for quite a while, being forcibly denied any sense of completion by him, you felt like the muscles in your thighs were screaming in protest. Jacaerys remained the picture of restraint, masterfully working you until you felt like you were going to break, only to wrench away the sweet release from your reach at the very last moment. Gushing copiously, you could smell your desperation in the air, biting down on your lip as you struggled to keep up your rhythm. Noticing your pace faltering, Jacaerys rose to a sitting position, his chest now flush against your heaving breasts.

Fire roiled through your belly, your hands finding home on the Prince's shoulders, your hands running through his hair while he suckled at your breasts. "Oh, my-"

His arms drew you into him, the sharp upward thrusts of his hips taking over flawlessly from your waning cadence. The pleasure made your back bow, your body surrendering to him entirely. Jacaerys pounded up into you with an all-consuming relentlessness, almost as if he was letting out his frustrations with you in the most exquisite way possible. Caged in his arms, you moaned and whimpered, taking his 'punishment' of you with utter obedience, unable to squirm away from his embrace, keening sharply as his fingers rubbed into the sensitive nub nestled in your folds.

Immersed in the pleasure that threatened to drown you, you opened your eyes to glance at your utterly debauched state in the mirror before the pearly glow of silver hair and a glint of sapphire caught your attention.

"Jace!"

At your startled gasp, Jacaerys stopped immediately, his eyes examining your face with worry. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, I-" you breathed, unable to voice what you had seen. Who you had seen. It couldn't be…

Were you hallucinating from the delirium? Or was Aemond actually here, inside the castle?

"I saw-"

Impossible.

He couldn't have found you all the way in the North, could he?

"What did you see, my darling?" Jace asked, his hands taking your face in his palms, his own eyes finding your line of sight. He turned to look around the room. "There's nothing here, sweetness. No one."

"I thought I saw…" you trailed off, your voice dying down as you looked around the room, before looking into the mirror, only to see that it was true.

But he was right there.

"Shhh…" Jacaerys reassured you, never once leaving your depths as his arms around your waist guided you to lie down upon a silken pillow under the small of your back. "Its just us, my darling."

In a fluid motion, he lifted your leg to hook it over his shoulder, drawing almost all the way out of you before plunging back in. You felt the breath leave your lungs, your fear and trepidation incinerating in a roar of pleasure. Eyes growing glazed under heavy lids, you gave in to the sharp, achingly deep thrusts that were delivered to you along with honeyed words breathed into your ear. "My princess. Mine. Mine. Mine."

"Oh, Jace…" It sent your heart soaring, a long drawn-out moan leaving your lips at the intensity of his claim upon you. To have someone want you with such desperation felt addictive. Heady, almost.

"You belong to me. Say it. I wish to hear you…" he commanded, his lips dragging across the bared column of your throat, his fingers resuming the tight and precise circles rubbing into your tender bud of nerves.

"I-I belong to you, My Prince. My King…"

Upon hearing the words laced in such absolute desire in your voice Jacaerys let go with a muttered curse. He shuddered against you, groaning as he spilled inside you. The sensation of his seed filling you up in heated and sticky spurts brought you to your own completion moments after, a relieved moan leaving you as you mercifully unraveled.

Lying in bed, throat raw from your cries, you felt utterly spent, feeling sleep dragging your eyelids shut. Every muscle in your body went lax, the syrupy dregs of remaining pleasure slowly enveloping you in their glow. Beside you, Jacaerys wasn't much better, his eyes falling closed as he inhaled the scent of your skin. Your Prince was clearly exhausted from the hunting day's exertions.

"There's a tourney tomorrow in our honour," he murmured sleepily into your neck. "I want to spend the day in bed with you, my princess."

"We must attend the tourney…. But I'm not a princess yet, My Prince," you grinned, placing a kiss to the crown of his dark hair.

"I will make you my Princess and, in time, my Queen. I swear it."

You fell into the bliss of oblivion, dreaming about your future beside Jacaerys.

It was the hour of the wolf when Aemond Targaryen emerged from his shroud of shadows.

His silvery mane glowed ethereally in the dying light of the almost burned out candles, his approach predatory.

Standing at your side of the bed, his fingers itched to grasp the handle of his dagger and impale it all the way to the hilt into Jacaerys Strong's neck.

But his eye was distracted by your beauty, drawn towards it like a moth to a flame. You lay on your back, limbs tangled in your bed furs, having drifted away from Jacaerys during the course of the night, leaving only your hand holding on to his as you slept.

Carefully sweeping away the stray locks of hair away from your face, Aemond felt a smile tug at his lips, seeing the tranquility adorning your features. You breathed deeply, letting out a sigh when his thumb brushed against your swollen lower lip.

Despite all that your actions had taken away from him, Aemond was filled with a sense of gratitude for you as you had stood before his older brother, Aegon, to ask for mercy for his children.

It gave him hope that despite the bitterness and pain he had made you suffer, you still felt a sliver of affection for him.

Why else would you have asked Aegon to spare the twins?

Aemond loomed over your sleeping form, his mind racing with a multitude of thoughts of you. If he so wished, he could have exacted his revenge for what you had done to him at this very moment.

Instead of his dagger, the silver haired Prince gently cupped your cheek, leaning down until his mouth was upon yours. You awakened at his kiss, eyes wide open with fear as you tried to use your arms to push him away. Aemond captured your wrists with the agility of a warrior, his mouth working furiously against yours, drawing out a surprised sound from you. Taking advantage, he slipped into your mouth, past your parted lips, to meet your tongue with his. It was heavenly, his first time kissing you with such intimacy. So lost was the one eyed Prince in the taste of you, that he almost forgot the salve he had applied to his lips a few minutes ago. It was the most potent sleeping draught he had smeared across his lips that he had kissed you with, the effect of which was starting to catch up with you.

Struggles dying down, your limbs went immobile, your eyes slipping shut as the potion took a hold of your mind, sending you to an unconsciousness as deep and dark as this darkest hour of the night even as his lips remained resolutely upon yours.

Once he was certain that you had fallen under the induced stupor, Aemond pulled away from you, wiping the remaining draught from his lips on his sleeve.

Realising that time was of the essence, he let go of your wrists, lifting you up into his arms and plucking you away from his nephew's side. Wrapping you up in his cloak to protect your modesty, he walked out of the bedchamber with you, into the night…

Author's note: Well, this story is called 'Missing' for a reason 😉 What did you think of this chapter?

Part 9

937 notes · View notes

wonderbias · 9 months

Text

Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) - Chapter Two

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Visenya Targaryen)

Warnings: MDNI, +18, language, violence, manipulation, sexism (style a la medieval), blood, angst, kinslayer Aemond, Valyrian supremacist Daemon.

AN: The dividers are from @itbmojojoejo. Their work is awesome, and they make one of the prettiest dividers I've seen. Any questions/asks/any kind of message, feel free to contact me. Enjoy!

AN2: So...here it is. I've been typing as fast as I can once I got the idea, not even my college projects got this much attention from me. Thank you so much for the support and for waiting, you don't know how much it means to me! As always, this isn't beta-ed so...any mistakes, it was a fairy or a witch. Thank you!

Aemond had never felt so confused in his life. The past few days had been a whirlwind of chaos, tears and so much confusion.

The news that his wife had vanished from their chambers had been sent to every House of the Realm. Everyone was distraught -even his grandfather had been very vocal about his worry- and the Lords were pressing on his family for any information.

The day that Rhaenyra renounces her claim to the Throne her only daughter disappears?

Strange.

“A plot” “A trap” “Too many coincidences” “Doesn’t look good” “Where does this leave us?”

The Lords whispered in the hallways and even in front of the King, the atmosphere was filled with tension and it seemed like nobody wanted to be on the Targaryen’s side.

But the days passed and, as Rhaenyra’s cries could be heard at every hour, the questions started to change -especially when the servants started whispering of seeing the Rouge Prince praying on the Godswood of the Red Keep- towards the Royal family.

“I’ve heard that the princess was lonely.” “She was locked in her room.” “Queen Alicient had forbidden her from contacting her family.” “Silverwing is locked in the Dragon’s Pit, she wasn’t allowed to fly.” “They wanted her gone.”

Still, even with more questions, not even an answer came.

The Hand was quick to diminish the rumors and assured everyone that there was a search party for the Princess, ravens had been sent and every House had been ordered to make a search party. The City Watch, with Daemon at its head, had raided Kings Landing in search for any clues or rumors, but it came back empty handed.

Nobody knew what to do.

At the advice of the Master of Law, the Crown and Rhaenyra -after some convincing of the Dowager Queen and Lord Corlys- had agreed on an interrogatory of servants, guards, lords, ladies, and any person who had been that day with Visenya.

After listening to the fifth servant describe how she had been scrubbing the floors of the Great Council’s room, Aemond had felt a stinging pain in the empty eye socket, caused without a doubt by the stress and the lack of sleep. He had tolerated it for some time, focusing on the table and not looking directly at the light, but as time passed the nausea appeared. He had been granted permission to leave the interrogatory by the Hand -the King was obviously very occupied fucking some maid to be present-.

As he moved through the room towards the door, he could feel Daemon’s and Rhaenyra’s eyes piercing his back.

He was pulled from his slumber by a knock in the wall.

A knock in the hidden passageway.

His hand searched for his dagger as he moved out of the bed, swiftly walking to the wall he knew hid the passageway.

Only when he moved closer did he hear the pattern.

tap tap

pause

tap tap tap

Quickly and with his heartbeat resounding in his ear, he opened the entrance.

A body crushed into his, its scent of sandalwood and dried flowers hitting his nose. He pressed his face against the thick black hair, his hands roaming the curves of the body he knew so well, covered by a thick dress. After a few minutes they parted, and the green -almost feline- eyes locked with his lone violet one.

"My Prince...I'm sorry, but I had to see you...alone," thin, bony hands were grabbing his forearms, and her green eyes were shining with something he couldn't pinpoint. "The Master of Whispers has forbidden me from leaving my rooms, and all that I know I've picked it from the servants."

His knuckles softly caressed her cold face, his voice merely a whisper, "She's gone, my Lady."

Alys head tilted slightly forwards, her eyebrows furrowing - not in the gesture he liked oh so much - "What do you mean?"

"Visenya has disappeared, no one knows where she is," was his stoic answer. "Seems like the Seven have blessed me and cursed me at the same time."

The look in his Lady's face slowly morphed from one of slight nervousness to something that the Strong bastard never had shown him: confusion.

A pale hand, a hand that had caressed him and satisfied him so many times, moved to rest on his chest, "My dearest...I've not seen it."

A soft breeze filled the chamber, the light of the candles trembled, projecting shadows behind them.

'A candle is an offering,' -his Alys had once said- "we ask the Lord of the Light to come into the room...to chase the shadows away, to chase the bad spirits away from us.'

He could see her green eyes fixed on the candle and then moving to the fire at the hearth. A soft furrow appeared between her eyebrows.

'But, sometimes, we can see more in the shadows...the shadows hold all that is putrid... and that the fire can not burn.'

The hand on his chest fell slowly. Mumbling a soft apology, she went back through the same passageway, the door closing behind her.

'The shadows hold the darkest intentions of a person.'

"Princess Visenya was absolutely miserable here, the only thing that gave her joy was sneaking around and going outside to help the people of Flea Bottom," Lady Reyne's voice filled the room. Her honey colored eyes went through every single one of the members of the hearing, staying a bit too long on the Princess parents, her gaze softening. There was a rumbling of papers and Lord Jasper Wylde cleared her voice, "My Lady, all the gates are protected by Gold Cloaks and White Cloaks, there's no proof of-" Her nostrils flared, "Surely a man as intelligent as you knows that there's other ways of sneaking out of the Red Keep. Visenya knew them. And we used them." The Lord Hand's eyes narrowed, but the Lady's tongue was quicker, "Visenya was unprotected. Even I, a mere wife of a minor House that was staying as a guest, had more protection than her." Daemon's eyes fixed upon the Lord Hand, "You kept my daughter without protection?" Otto's answer was quick, his voice raising, "There was no threat to the Princess and she's in the most safe place of Westeros." "Safest place in the world but a Princess of House Targaryen disappeared under all your noses!" Daemon was almost screaming, ready to throw himself at the man, his wife's hand holding him back. "My Lord Hand, Prince Daemon, please, let us calm down," one of the Lords tried to keep peace, and both men sat back down. "My Lady, please continue." Lady Reyne nodded, her chin going slightly up and her hand resting over her pregnant belly, "As I said, the Princess and I are close confidants, we have a beautiful friendship. I had to see my friend withering away every day that passed, and it broke my heart…it still does." She took another breath, "I suggested she run away, back to her parents, she has a dragon, after all. But she didn't want that, her duty was to mend her marriage, even after…" The Lady stopped talking as a sob came over her, her eyes filling with tears, "I-I…forgive me." There was an awkward silence between the people present, only those genuinely worried about the Princess seemed to worry over her tears, Lord Corlys even offered Lady Reyne a handkerchief, which she took with a soft smile. "T-Thank you, my Lord," she dried her tears and took a deep breath. "I am very lucky in my marriage, even though it was born of duty, I have three magnificent children. I know that men have…needs but…” She raised her head, “Prince Aemond took everything from Princess Visenya.”

As soon as he stepped a foot into the dining room, his mother was moving towards him.

"Where were you? You didn't join the search party!" her fingers were digging into his arms, her auburn curls coming out from the green and gold headpiece.

His lone eye scanned the room: the King was sitting at the head of the table, his thumb and forefinger pressing the bridge of his nose -surely hangover, since there was no pitch of wine at the table; the Lord Hand was at his right, his eyes fixed on Aemond while he drank some tea, his hands rearranging the cutlery, and his sister -sweet Queen Helaena- was eating her fruits, her gaze lost in some corner of the room.

"I was sleeping," he finally answered.

Alicient looked at him dumbfounded, her fingers digging even more into his flesh and her eyes holding a storm of emotions, the same ones he had seen in the night of the famous dinner, "Sleeping?"

His hands moved to grasp hers, softly moving them away from his arms, "Yes, mother. I've been on Vhagar's back searching the Kingsroad and the alternative paths, also some forests and tricky spots. I needed sleep."

Aemond moved away from his mother and sat down beside his sister, his hands reaching for the tea and some sausages.

The steps of the Dowager Queen were heavy as she moved to sat down, her face resting on her hands - a moment of vulnerability, a moment where everyone could appreciate how much of a toll this was on the Queen Mother.

After a few minutes, she raised her head and fixed her eyes on Aemond. The regality was back, "Did you -"

"I've given the order to send the Strong bastard back to Harrenhall. She'll be parting tomorrow," Otto said nonchalantly, not caring if he was interrupting the Dowager Queen.

His head turned to look at his grandfather, but this one raised a hand, "Her presence isn't helping us here. The King has already signed the notice." Otto picked the napkin and cleaned his mouth before standing up and leaving the napkin on his seat. "If you excuse me, I have issues to solve, like the matter of a missing Princess."

Before the door closed on his back, the Lord Hand turned and fixed his eyes on Aemond - a gaze that Aegon and Daemon Targaryen knew a little too well, "If you decide to come to another meeting of the Council, by the Seven, have the decency of looking worried."

The door closed softly but slowly behind him, control in every single one of his movements. His words left a bitter taste on Aemond. He was worried, yes, but not for Visenya (how could one worry for someone who was a stranger?) but for his family, for the danger that a mourning mother and father with dragons represented.

His mother's voice distracted him from his thoughts, "I am taking my leave, too. Aemond, it would make me happy for you to join me in my prayers... I know that, if you ask for their guidance, the Seven will help you."

The Dowager Queen stood from her place at the table, lips pressed in a firm line and anguish in her amber eyes, Visenya’s disappearance was taking a toll on her too

"Just so you know, brother, I never signed any "notice" to your bastard lady," Aegon spoke immediately after their mother left, not daring to say the words in the presence of the ‘elders’. "I would never get in between a man's cock and his favorite cunt."

Aemond’s hands focused on cutting the sausage in equal parts, “That’s a consideration I have never expected from you, brother. You are getting softer…metaphorically…and literally too.”

The King laughed at his jab, his hand smacking the table, “Quite the humor for a widower!” Aegon leaned closer and there was now a hint of seriousness in his lilac eyes, but also of doubt, “Tell me, brother, what did you do?”

“You may want to be more specific, my King,” was the only answer he received.

With a quick and graceless motion of his hand, Aegon dismissed the servants, leaving the three siblings alone. He moved closer to his younger brother and, almost mumbling, he asked, “Did you kill her?”

There was no sound in the room, even Helaena had stopped eating and was looking at Aemond. The Queen had a face that was incredibly expressive, but it all lost meaning when one looked at her purple eyes that seemed far away.

Aemond sighed, his voice another whisper, “I did not do anything, she just…vanished.”

At that, the King relaxed back in his seat, but his expression remained the same, “I will be honest, brother: this does not look good."

That seemed to make the One-Eyed Prince laugh - a soft, humorless chuckle erupted from his mouth while his lone violet eye fixed on his brother. Aegon seemed displeased at that, his lower lip encased between his teeth. For the first time in their lives, they were acting just like their birth roles: the older brother scolding the youngest one.

The King drank more of his goblet and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, an expensive-looking black and golden tunic, "Listen…listen to me: I was out that night."

That seemed to catch Aemond's attention, so Aegon continued, "I was not that drunk, yes? I was a bit…lively, but I remember using the hidden passageways and…I locked them."

They locked eyes, really looking into each other's eyes, Aegon's eyes were a pale violet that showed no emotional restraint, so similar to their mother's eyes.

And, for the first time in his life, Aegon showed the same mix of disappointment and fear that Alicient usually had in her eyes when looking at her eldest son.

The doors opened suddenly, interrupting the small talk of the people. The Princess and her Consort turned around to find her firstborn son walking towards them.

Rhaenyra's eyes softened but her tone was serious, "Jace, you shouldn't be here."

Her eldest son was breathing heavily, his eyes darting between his mother and his step-father, "I want to testify."

Daemon and Rhaenyra exchanged a glance between them, until Daemon whispered so that no one could hear them, "Have you been hiding something from us?"

Jacaerys eyes fixed on those of his step-father, "I have."

Rhaenyra sighed and turned around, to inform the other members of the hearing, "Prince Jacaerys will testify now." With that, she moved to sit on her designated chair, Daemon following her.

There was a soft murmur of some Lords whispering, the majority absolutely disinterested in the matter.

The Hand motioned to the chair, "Be brief, please."

Jace stared at him before sitting down, it was obvious nobody wanted to hear him.

(

"Nobody cares for us, Vis," he had said. "Even Lord Corlys looks at me as if I'm a…pretender."

His older sister had thrown him a cushion, "You're the child of the Princess, the Heir. You're legitimate."

He had rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean."

"The fact that our mother had an affair with a Gold Cloak doesn't make you less of a Targaryen," she had replied, her nose furrowed in a mocking manner.

"That's the point, Vis, I'm no Targaryen, I'm a Velaryon. Have you met a dark haired Velaryon?"

She raised her eyebrows, "We could say that you dye your hair with those inks that father buys from Pentos."

He threw back the cushion, "Are you even listening to me? Stop joking!"

She kicked his calf, her pale eyebrows raised, "I'm listening to you, and what you say is utter shit. You know who is to blame that you are…you? Our grandfather and Lord Corlys. Four eyes and they were fucking blind to notice that Laenor liked men."

"Mother was already pregnant with you when she married, why did she decide to have me?" He whispered.

Her hands went to grab the collar of his chemise, pulling him closer, "Because she wanted to. And because she knew that she could protect you, and that I would when I become Queen."

Time stopped for a minute as brother and sister stared at each other, her hands holding him tight and a fire burning in her eyes. He could see tears pooling in her eyes, and that made his amber colored eyes wet too.

He gave her a watery smile and poked her cheek, "You love me."

"Yes, but I wouldn't dream of being your wife," she teased him, cheeks covered in tears.

"As if I wanted to be your husband, I prefer you as my sister. Mandia," he said.

"And I prefer you as my valonqar," she sniffed before giving him a nudge on his shoulder. "Now, let's finish this wine before father finds us. Where did you take this from?"

He saw her take a big gulp of the sweet drink, "From that room close to the Maester's room."

She stopped drinking, "That's the room of the Valyrian priest."

They both looked at eachother, amber eyes fixed on violet ones. Until she left the bottle of wine on the floor, "You fucking idiot, you grabbed the ceremony wine!"

His eyes opened wide, "What?! Are we married now?!"

"Do I look like I know?! I need to puke!" Visenya quickly stood up and went to the privy, her fingers entering her mouth.

)

Jace smiled at the memory, one of the many he had with his older sister. She loved them fiercely, and even though they were both stubborn and had many arguments, he knew she would always protect him.

Someone cleared their throat, a sign that they were waiting for him to speak, it brought him back to reality.

His baby sister. Luke. Vis.

His fists clenched and he straightened his back. Looking at no one in particular, his voice became sharp as he started talking, “Princess Visenya and I wrote to each other once a week.”

He saw Larys Strong leaning forward in his seat, his head tilting slightly towards Otto Hightower. Good, - he thought- you didn’t know that. His eyes moved towards Daemon and he could see he had also noticed Larys gestures.

Stil, Otto Hightower was adamant on passing this revelation as irrelevant, “I’m sorry, my Prince, but I can’t see how this information is relevant-”

“It is relevant, my Lord Hand, because I keep every single one of Visenya’s letters and, in those letters, she mentions, not only once but several times, that she keeps a diary in secret,” Jace interrupted him.

There was a silence, he could see that even his mother was surprised - no one had expected that.

A lord, Jasper Wylde, he believed, spoke first, “You mean that…there's a written record from the Princess.”

“I know what you are thinking, my Lord, and yes: my sister kept a record of her marriage, her life in the Red Keep and every political discussion she heard of,” he continued, not giving anyone time to think. “Find the diary and you will find out what happened to Princess Visenya.”

A day had passed since that breakfast.

Five since the disappearance.

Of course there was no news about Princess Visenya. The lack of any clues meant that both parties -the Royal family and Visenya's parents- could switch the tides to their favor spreading rumors between the common folk and lower nobles.

What was certain was that the Lords interest in the disappearance of a Targaryen Princess had diminished. Even though Corlys Velaryon insisted that his House would demand answers, the truth was that almost every House was polishing her daughters of marriageable age to, when the time came, present them to the court as candidates to be the prince's wife. Obviously, some Lords were waiting for the opportunity to introduce their daughters to Aemond - Otto Hightower style.

But then, something happened.

After a ride on Vhagar's back, going over some roads and forests, again, Aemond came through one of the passages only to find some Kingsguards, a carriage and Daemon Targaryen in his armor.

Ser Arryk moved forwards, "We have orders from the King and the Council to deliver you to them, my Prince." The White Cloak motioned to the carriage, he seemed a bit distraught.

He took a deep breath through his nose, his eye never leaving his uncle's figure, "Was it necessary to come and pick me up?"

"The Queen Mother insisted," was his answer.

If it was a decision from his mother then she must have had her reasons, but it was somewhat strange that she had allowed this. She always waited for him to come to her to deliver some news. This was odd.

He nodded stiffly and stepped inside the carriage, not having another choice. As the door was closing, a blade made it's way through the crack of the door, "I will join my nephew. Take my horse."

His uncle didn't wait for an answer since he opened the door and climbed inside, sitting in front of him.

They looked at each other, both men analyzing and studying the other as if they were in a duel - slowly circling the prey and waiting for its movements.

The carriage started moving and, soon enough, all that was heard was the wheels through the potholes and the horses hooves hitting the stony pathway.

He noticed that it was the first time that he was alone with his uncle, a person he had once admired and dreamed of being like him. Another second son. A second son who had made it's own name in the world.

The Rogue Prince. He inspired fear and hatred and his enemies knew him well. All across Westeros they knew Daemon Targaryen for his skills and for wielding Dark Sister.

Aemond Targaryen was only known for having one eye and for being a Kinslayer.

His mother had said that, as long as his actions were led by the grace of the Seven, he would find success and his own name. Everyone would remember him.

But he could see history. They would write about him, without a doubt, but he would be no more than a cripple, the one who had murdered in cold blood his nephew and whose wife had disappeared.

That was not what he had dreamed.

"When Visenya told me she intended to marry you I could not believe it," his uncle had spoken abruptly, his voice clear and firm through the noise. "Mine own daughter mixing with a cripple half-Hightower? I would have preferred if she boarded to Lys."

Daemon's fingers were twisting a ring on his little finger, his violet eyes fixed on it, "You know her answer?"

He kept his mouth shut, internally praying to the Crone to give him strength and prevent his uncle from carrying on this talk.

But the Gods hadn't answered before, why should they now?

"She told me: 'He's intelligent, a good swordsman and ambitious. A second son, after all. But he's incredibly kind and loyal to those who he loves. Just like you. What more can your daughter desire than a man who will love her as her father loves her mother?" his thumb caressed a small ring on his little finger. "So I gave her my approval, as if she needed it. But I gave it to her."

In a second, Dark Sister was stabbing the wood of the carriage beside Aemond - the movement too quick for him to react, "I even braided her hair for her wedding. Do you know that? I walked my daughter to you, you cunt, and you took her from us."

"I am sure that Lord Royce feels the same way about you," Aemond's voice came in a whisper.

Rage flashed in his uncle's eyes, he could now see why he was deadly in the battleground, "Do not even dare to compare my daughter to that bitch." The sword's edge moved closer to Aemond's face until it rested against his jawline, a threat that both of them knew that Daemon Targaryen could fulfill.

The older man moved his face closer, until their noses were almost touching, “You better start praying to the Seven for a quick and merciful death.”

The carriage came to an abrupt stop - Daemon took Dark Sister and pulled it from the carriage wall, sheathing his sword. “Come.”

The door opened and, once his uncle descended, he was facing the stairs to the Red Keep, the Dowager Queen waiting for them, her hands intertwined while her fingers picked against each other. The mask of regality fell for a minute when she saw him coming after his uncle, who immediately walked past her, barely giving her a glance.

Alicient moved quickly towards her second son, her hands going to grab him in his arms, “What were you doing with him alone?”

“He came with the carriage you sent for me, mother,” his voice was a mere whisper, the close encounter was proof that there were certain ‘loyalists’ to Rhaenyra in the city.

His mother took a deep breath and whispered back, over her shoulder he could see Ser Cole watching over them, “The members of the Hearing want to see you. Your grandfather says that they are adamant on having you there.”

He closed his eye, just what he needed, “Lead the way, then.”

“State your name,” said Lord Corlys.

Her hands grasped the rough fabric of her apron, “R-Rosey, my Lord.” She could feel the gaze of the Cro-Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon fixed upon her, hopeful and impotent. “I was, am, one of Princess Visenya handmaids.”

The sound of a feather against scroll is heard, someone is writing down what she's saying, but she doesn't know the name of the person (or Lord, she thinks for her insides). The Lord Hand looks at her, “What did you do the day of the disappearance?”

Everyone looks so bored, she's another mere servant girl after all, “Me and Wylla prepared the Princess tea and breakfast, as always. Wylla had spent the whole night sewing a dress for the Princess, so by morning she was quite tired, so I was the one to deliver the breakfast to my Lady. When I arrived at the chambers the guards told me that the Princess was indisposed, and that Prince Aemond had instructed to let her rest, so I retired.”

More writing and then the tired voice of the Lord Hand is heard, “Thank you, Rosey. You may retire now.”

She gulps and stands, her eyes fixed on the floor as she walks towards the door.

“Why did Wylla spend a whole night sewing the Princess dress?” Princess Rhaenyra’s voice sounded void of emotion.

“Princess, how is that relevant? The girl has already declared-” Otto Hightower started speaking again, only to be interrupted.

“The Princess is asking a mere question, as the mother of the Princess she has every right to keep the interrogation,” Prince Daemon interrupted the Lord Hand. His violet eyes moved until they were fixed on Rosey, “Sit back, girl.”

Rosey moved nervously on her spot and walked towards the chair, only to raise her eyes and find Lord Corlys giving her an encouraging nod, “It'll be just a few moments, Rosey.”

Biting her lip, she sits on the chair and looks at the floor, “Wylla did it because it was one of Princess Visenya's favorite dresses… and she wanted to wear it at the signing of the Peace Treaty.”

Unconsciously, she lifts her head to look at Princess Rhaenyra (Always look at me in the eye, -her Princess had said to her and Wylla- and be honest. I'll be honest with you too.) and she's struck by the similarity between mother and daughter, by the way their mouths curve in the same soft smile.

She can hear her lady's laugh in her ears, making her heart ache. She can also hear her crying, and she's reminded of the metallic scent.

("You must promise me that you will not say a word."

"Princess-" Wylla had tried to make her see reason.

"No, Wylla, not a word. And you too Rosey, not a word."

She had choked on her tears while cleaning the cuts on the delicate skin, "But, my Lady-"

"No. Just…obey. Not a word.")

Maybe it was the pain of losing her beloved Lady, maybe it was the sleepless nights, maybe it was the way she had seen Wylla praying on her knees hoping that their Lady would come back.

Maybe having lost everything meant that she had lost the fear.

"Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon, there's something that you should know."

As the doors closed behind him, he immediately knew something was wrong. There were four people sitting at the table.

His grandfather was standing at the end of the table, face red and morphed into a mask of rage. Larys Strong was standing in one corner, his eyes going over the people in the room, barely fixing on him

“Prince Aemond,” the voice of Rhaenyra filled the room. He barely turned his head, but it was enough to see some Lords and Ladies, not enough to fill the room, but enough to make his mouth go dry.

What in the Seven Hells was this?

“Brother,” that was a way to catch his attention, and he turned to look at Rhaenyra. Her hair was filled with braids, in the same way he had seen Visenya’s hair so many times, but her lips were pressed in a thin line. “You must be wondering what are you doing here, so I will be brief.”

Her pale hands moved over the table, the sound of parchment being moved was heard, “This…Hearing has received disturbing news during the few days we have been working.”

He opened his mouth to speak, his eye darting to his grandfather for a clue, only to receive an unperceivable shake of his head. Don’t say anything.

So he looked back at his half-sister and nodded, that seemed to surprise her but she hid that quickly, “Were you aware that the Princess Visenya, your own wife, felt lonely at the Red Keep? That she wasn’t given the same treatment as the members of the Royal Family?”

That was it? His mouth moved quicker than his brain, “Visenya never liked Ladies-in-Waiting, so if she felt lonely it was partly her fault. She insisted that she didn’t need ladies going over her as if she was a bored child.”

Princess Rhaenyra exchanged a look with her husband and Lord Jasper Wylde, “Your answer to the second question?”

He sighed, his thumb and forefinger pressing between them the fabric of his riding gear, “I can’t speak of that matter…she was always happy attending her own duties as the wife of a Prince.”

There was a mocking snort from Daemon, but it was Corlys Velaryon who spoke, “Wife of a Prince? She was already a Princess. And before King Viserys last wish, the heir of his heir.”

The man’s eyes fixed on him, “You meant to tell me that my granddaughter never attended a Council meeting? Never went to visit the city?”

Aemond shrugged his shoulders, almost imperceptible, “She liked to take Silverwing on long rides and reading.”

There was silence in the room, which Daemon interrupted, “I think I used to know my late wife, Lady Royce, better than that. And she hated me.”

There were some laughs in the room, but Aemond interrupted them, “We were just…distanced, but that does not mean that I didn’t know my wife.”

“I wonder what caused that distance,” muttered Daemon Targaryen. “Now, we have spoken to Layde Reyne and she states that Princess Visenya was more like a prisoner than a Princess.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “The lady wife of Lord Reyne? What does she have to do with this?”

He saw his grandfather close his eyes for a moment, until Rhaenyra spoke again, confusion in her voice, “You don’t know the name of your wife’s closest friend?”

He scoffed, looking over the four persons, “I would remember if Visenya told me that.”

The four members of the Hearing looked at each other, while his grandfather stared at him with pure anger.

Princess Rhaenyra started to talk but was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder, her husband and uncle now speaking, “Did Visenya write to someone?”

He pressed his lips together, “To her parents only. And to her brothers and siblings, but much more sporadically.”

He remembered Visenya writing on her desk, the calligraphy was precise and neat, her fingers never smudging the ink.

Prince Daemon smiled, the predatory smile that his mother swore he had when he killed someone, “So you don’t know that Visenya kept close contact with her brother, Jacaerys? They wrote once a week to each other.”

Once again, he furrowed his eyebrows, his lilac eye moving over the persons sitting in front of him, "I-I didn't know."

Rhaenyra looked at him, her lilac eyes void of emotion, "You don't know what my daughter did here. You don't know who her friends were. You don't know she wrote to her brother once a week. Tell me, Prince Aemond, what do you know?"

"I just know that I left my wife in our shared chambers in the morning five days ago, and she vanished," he quickly replied, his temper already showing. "We might have some differences, yes, but she's still my wife and responsibility, and -"

"A responsibility that you planned to shove away," Rhaenyra interrupted him, her tone cold and slightly shaky. "You planned to nullify your marriage to my daughter so that you could marry the new lady of Harrenhall."

It felt as if he had been punched, the air suddenly leaving his lungs and his eye moving to look at his grandfather, "I…" But what was left to say?

Rhaenyra stood and grabbed the papers, not minding him, addressing the guards, "You may bring her in."

He turned around when the doors opened, hoping to find his mother or his sister, someone to give him answers.

He certainly didn't expect Alys.

His lady walked into the room, clad into a dark green gown, her green eyes moving throughout the room. But she didn't look at him. Not once. Not even when she stood a few feet away from him.

"Alys Rivers. Soon to be Alys Strong. Repeat your words," was the order from Lord Corlys.

Alys took a deep breath, it looked like she was nervous, her hands fidgeting with her gown, but Aemond knew better: she was pretending, "Y-Yes, my Lord. I know that Prince Aemond Targaryen wanted his wife gone."

Liar. Traitor. Witch

"And how could possibly a woman of your…standing could be so close to the Prince," Rhaenyra asked, her tone filled with fake curiosity and superiority.

That made Alys press her lips together, a real sign that she was pissed, "I was close to him and-"

Somebody sighed and rumbled through the papers, "It states here that: 'Prince Aemond and I became closer during his stay at Harrenhall. First, I was his maid. Then, I became his lover. Our contact didn't cease even when he returned to Kings Landing, for he would visit me weekly. A moon ago he told me of his plan of leaving his wife and marrying me, that way he would become the new Lord of Harrenhall.' So…Lady Alys, is that true?"

For the first time since she entered, Aemond recognized the woman close to him - one full of resentment and bitterness, "Yes, your highness."

Rhaenyra stared at Alys, both pairs of eyes fixed on the other, a sort of unspoken threat in the former Crown Princess's eyes. A threat that the Strong bastard seemed to pick up quickly, since her whole demeanor returned to a submissive one, her head going down slowly.

A smirk appeared on Rhaenyra's face, a cold and calculating one, "Well…since that is clear, I want you to repeat your previous words, spoken to this Hearing earlier."

Alys swallowed and, for the first time since she had arrived, she turned her head slightly to look at Aemond, "Prince Aemond hated his wife and couldn't wait for her to be gone. My silence was bought with the threat of not legitimizing my birth."

Her voice turned firmer, "I realized I was being manipulated by him, it was all a plan so that he could earn a lordship easily."

“I had no way to turn against a Prince, I was his spoil of war. In Harrenhall I had no one that I could confide in or ask for help. His grip on me tightened when I revealed that I could see visions on the fire and…” she lowered her stare to the ground.

Traitor. Whore.

“And…?” Rhaenyra pressed, seeking an answer.

The dark-haired woman sniffed softly and straightened her back, “He asked me to perform a spell on her…one that prevented her from carrying a child.”

Chaos erupted in the room. Lords, ladies, servants screaming and talking in disbelief at the confession.

Aemond felt cold all of the sudden. The same sensation crawling up his spine like when he had returned from Storms End.

He could see his grandfather reaching for a chair, not being capable of staying on his feet for a minute longer.

Lord Jasper Wylde was white as a sheet, but his hand slammed the table several times, “Silence! Silence!”

Not many people obeyed. He could hear some insults thrown at him, there were people spitting on the floor, as if cursing him.

He turned his head to his left, his breath leaving his lungs as he watched his mother standing with her hands against her chest, tears falling from her eyes. It was her eyes that made him feel dizzy and sick.

You are not son of mine, they said.

Prince Daemon’s voice was heard, and that was all that it took for the people to calm down, “You may retire, Lady Alys.”

His former mistress turned around, walking towards the doors, not even sparing him a glance.

“Now, bring Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, Lady Reyne, and Princess Visenya’s maid, Rosey,” he commanded.

He had barely any time to react, his mind buzzing and his ears ringing, when his nephew and a young woman entered the room.

Clad in a Velaryon blue cape over a black and red riding gear, Jacaerys Velaryon did not even spare him a glance. Aemond gritted his teeth, even now the bastard thought himself more of a man than Aemond, a true born son.

The young woman beside him, wearing a simple servant dress and an apron over it, looked incredibly nervous, her hands playing with the fabric of her dress.

The lady wife of Lord Reyne was wearing an ugly pink dress that looked like a huge cake giving the advanced state of her pregnancy, jewels sewn into her pronounced neckline, her brown hair twisted into some braids and a sour expression on her long face.

“Prince Jacaerys, reveal to the Prince what you have found,” commanded Daemon, a predatory smile on his face.

The oldest of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons stepped forward and raised a thick and worn out book, its cover black, “This is the diary of Princess Visenya Targaryen. In it my sister describes the entirety of her marriage to Prince Aemond…as well as the physical abuse to which she was subjected.”

More gasps from the court, more chills crawling up Aemond’s spine.

“Here is an entrance of a few months after-” Jacaerys interrupted himself, the words still hard to process. “After…Prince Lucerys death.”

Still, he continued, “In it the Princess wrote: ‘...when I finally mustered up the courage to mend the relationship with my husband and ask him to lay with me, to start trying to get pregnant, he laughed at me. I did not understand: I told him I had decided to put away the grief of the death of my dearest brother at his hands, so that we could return to our marital duties. He struck me. His hand went to my hair, tugging it so hard that it left a bruise on my scalp. Then he slapped me again before leaving the bedchamber. I stayed on the floor, the stone cold against my hot cheek.’”

“Here is another entry: ‘...the King called me a ‘whore, just like her mother’ during dinner. Nobody said anything to him. Not even my husband.’ And here is another: ‘...finally managed to get a dagger and a few hours of sleep a day. I need to be careful. There are so many people praying that I am gone.’ “

The court was in utter silence, no one daring to speak.

Jace closed the diary, “There are many more entries like that. But one thing is for sure: Visenya was being abused and her life was in danger.”

Daemon nodded, his hand grabbing his wife’s own, “Lady Reyne. Tell us.”

The woman in a pink dress stepped forward, her pointy chin tilted upwards defiantly, “The Princess told me how afraid she was of her husband, how he kicked her and slapped her. She also told me how she had found out about her husband’s plan to get rid of her and marry a mistress he had in Harrenhall. Apparently, he had been taking money from her dowry coffer to buy gifts for his mistress. He also was the one to order for her to be completely isolated.”

People started talking again, but that didn't seem to stop Daemon Targaryen, “Thank you, my Lady. Now, Rosie, please come forward.”

The trembling girl stepped forward, “W-What his highness, Prince Jacaerys tell us is true, my Prince. Wylla and I were the ones that cleaned up the bruises and cuts from the Princess. We bathed her bruised body and cleaned up her tears.”

The servant’s head raised and her brown eyes fixed on Aemond, her pale face filled with red spots, “You harmed my Princess, and even then, she asked you to try and mend things. My poor Lady still loved you, even though you hurt her, she longed for you.”

The memory of Visenya asking him to mend things came over him, her hands over his asking for a second opportunity.

Tears ran down the servant’s face, and Aemond did not need two eyes to see that every woman in there, and some men, were in the same state.

Still, the girl did not stop, “Princess Visenya asked that of you because she was with child.”

TAG LIST: @snh96 @neenieweenie @marihoneywk @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tired-night-owl

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x ofc #mine

195 notes · View notes

zae5 · 3 months

Text

Darkly, delicately

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Character

Warnings: Minor character death, mentions of period typical crimes and their punishments, prostitution, implied smut.

Word count: 4.7k

Summary: All her life Meynara has struggled to belong. Captured and taken to a land far away she's made her place in the world of Westeros with allies she can count on one hand. With the siege of Duskendale by the army of King Aegon II, she finds herself facing odds that change the course of her life once again, weaving her fate to the tune of the dragon in a dance hidden through time, as the war between the blacks and the greens rages on.

Link to read on ao3: here

She hears the bell ring twice as the castle erupts in chaos. “Noom, Narrah, Nyel” she chants to herself as the third dong reverberates through the wind drowning the screams around her before she's shoved hastily to the safety of the dingy cellars below. The scent of sweat fills her nostrils as she navigates the musty cramped quarters, filled to the brim with anxious ladies clasping their hands in prayer as they kneel together trying to stifle their whimpers. Lady Meredyth wrings her hands nervously as she stares into the distance, somber in demeanor. A moment of recognition seems to pass through her eyes as she spots her near the hastily barred door, before she turns abruptly to question her ladies maids’ who bow their heads in response. She finds her place near one of the walls, turning away from the woman reprimanding those around her to assess the scene in silence. Ever since the war began she knew the siege was inevitable. The family of the dragon had torn themselves in two embroiling most of the realm in their chaos and it was about time they too were hit with the consequences of their support. One of the dragons would soon grace their skies, she only hoped it wasn't their queen. Rumors of the kinslayer had wafted through Duskendale these past few moons. Round the winding harbor and the cobbled streets, onto the market square threatened over a bargain gone wrong, passed around taverns along with a drink in hand all up to the Dun Fort and it's gates in hushed whispers carrying over inwards to the pale walls enclosing winding threads weaved together for their lady, his name had evoked fear, disgust and surprising wonder alike. As the clashes of metal drew nearer to them she wondered how long it would take for him to finally reach his mark.

Seven blows was all it took to bring down the giant gate of the Dun Fort. The irony of the number isn't lost on her as they are rounded up in the central courtyard by noon. Captives surround her in haphazard lines along the posts and below the outer gate manned by armed men in green, their banner of the three headed dragon glinting maliciously in the sun. Some of the women struggle to stifle their sobs as they watch their husbands and sons being rounded up for slaughter before being hushed with a shove and a sharp word. She cranes her neck to see an older man at the head flanked by two heads of silver around a familiar face kneeling in chains.

“People of Duskendale, you face the price of your betrayal! Lord Darklyn has condemned you all but the King is just and merciful. Whoever wishes to make good on their vows again and pledge allegiance to the true heir to the Iron throne need only speak it now and his grace shall consider their folly pardoned” booms the older man, his tanned skin streaked with the blood of the burning ports. She hears a few whispers of indignation and fear before a handful of knights step forward to pledge their allegiance. It is a meager number which she realizes dissatisfies them deeply.

“Very well then” murmurs the King before they hear a shrill roar near the top of the castle. There in all his glory, perched atop the highest parapet, she sees a beast so beautiful, unworthy of the carnage it has wreaked, yet as it growls and makes its way towards them with its scales of shimmering gold she feels the true power that the men before her yielded. More of the folk around her now rush to bend the knee, hastily murmuring their pleas and apologies as the men in green smile haughtily. A lone eye, stern in its gaze, catches her unmoving. She suppresses the shiver that runs through her as she curtsies in response. The urge to live has long outlasted whatever moral code runs through the heart of the realm and it does not fail her today. Somewhere to the side she hears a familiar scoff of distaste. “It won't be my head on a spike when they're done with us” she thinks as she stares at her rival in defiance. Lady Meredyth scorns her in response as she's dragged off to witness the event of the day. Lord Gunthor kneels a few paces before her, locking eyes with their captors before turning to face her with hurt and disdain. She sees him gaze at her for a moment before offering a few words of comfort to his wife along with affirming his allegiance to the Queen with pride. She feels a quiver of fear pass through him, a cry of anguish a few feet away and an unrelenting stare on her as he's beheaded. A hush falls over the courtyard as the deed is done and the guffaws resume their way to the main hall shoving all in their path. Somewhere in the distance her heart leaps, far away across the fishing villages dotting the skyline towards the ruins of Hollard castle near the fork of the Crownlands. Duskendale would face a similar fate tonight.

She wastes no time in making herself scarce. She trains her ear on the whispers clinging to the walls as she makes her way downwards. They have been sacked by a little under three thousand men amassed during their journey through Rosby and Stokeworth that are to stay on till further word from the King. The lower kitchens and the halls are filled to the brim and are easy to blend into as she hurries towards her destination. She finds herself taking the familiar flight of stairs past the makeshift bakery to wind down to a hidden door below. Exactly three knocks later it opens to reveal a harsh face staring right at her.

“You are late”

“Forgive me for trying to stay alive” she huffs in return.

“Did they hear you?”

“Not yet”

“Let us keep it that way then.”

She knows he means to assess the threat before them both before feeding her to it. That is how it has always been, her body for the price of their safety. For all her bravado she hasn't been able to escape the clutches of home and the thread that ties her to it remains the one that cuts her the most.

“I know what I have to do”

“You move on my command Meynara, not before, nor after. We've made a decent life for ourselves here, do not go ruining it now.”

“I suppose the head of the lord staring at us as we walk through the hallways is enough of a hurdle in our path” she retorts shakily.

“As if you were ever fond of him”

“No, perhaps I wasn't. Doesn't mean I wanted him dead either”

“Life and Death are right around your corner”

“Faith shines the ability to prevail in both” she finishes turning away from him. Those were his father's words, ones that he'd told her on the boat to Westeros as they lay together shackled and starved. She remembers his eyes shining with a promise in the dark, willing her to forgo her fear. It seems a lifetime ago yet the man before her stares at her just the same. It is her gaze now which is filled with apprehension rather than the faith she's long left behind and no feelings of ardor can bring back the naive trust she has lost.

There is a feast to be held in honor of the King as Duskendale had yielded with ease, unprepared and caught off guard. Perhaps if Gunthor had insisted on better fortifications and riders rather than her religiously mounting him each night, his head wouldn't be hollow and unattached at the moment. She finds herself slinking into the shadows, with that thought, trying to keep an eye on the party at hand. The ale flows freely in the lower halls with the men getting handsy with the serving girls despite their indignation. Her only option is to reach the upper halls unnoticed hoping the stronger wine would dull them long enough to be done with her faster. She spots him in the distance as she makes her way up. He stands still near a burly man, eyes as empty as the dead hanging outside. A brief flicker of warning passes through to her before he's consumed to his farcity. Faith shall have to suffice for both of them tonight.

The main hall is decorated with banners of gold yet much sparse compared to the mess below. Anyone with a title should occupy the benches ahead of her, some newly appointed lords and generals, who all sit jesting and drinking below the dias as the men of the hour watch on. She watches the King engrossed with the head cook’s daughter fully partaking in the merriment. She sees her blush and smile coquettishly turning a lock of her hair as she entertains him and wonders how much persuasion it took for her to be offered up on a platter. Freshly plucked and naive, innocence was always coveted first at the altar, of worship and sacrifice alike.

Next to him sat two men with equally stern faces. She recognised the first with the booming voice, still in his armor refusing woman and drink alike, surveying the crowd for an imminent threat yet the man flanking the King's left drew her attention the most. To see him in person after their loss at noon made her skin tingle and the rumors had not done him justice. He sat poised, with his hair still braided for battle, eye lazily surveying the crowd like the elder man next to him, sipping from his chalice at ease. His gaze seemed unfocussed, unwilling to seek out anything in particular yet she saw through the haze. A predator responds only when it spots a worthy threat.

“What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone” she hears someone say before being grabbed by pudgy hands. The man near her reeks of nauseating sweetness. Arbor red she discerns as he leers close to her.

“Apologies my lord, I was on my way to serve the King” she lies promptly.

“Perhaps you might serve me first then. His grace would not refuse his loyal subjects tonight” he spoke earning a few jeers.

“Wait” she hears a crisp voice break through the crowd. “That one is mine”

There is no room for argument as she's pulled by two armed knights towards the dias, under the eye of the dragon.

“My my brother, you've caught a pretty one. A shame she's too old to be plucked” smirks the King playfully biting the girl on his lap.

She sees the prince ahead of her regard her with interest before beckoning her forwards with his finger. It isn't long after his appraisal that he takes her by the arm retreating to the sounds of muffled cheers. She feels him make his way around the castle assuredly, neither in haste nor at leisure, before he pulls her into the nearest chambers he can find.

“What can you do for me?” he asks abruptly, leaning against the door as he surveys her again.

“Whatever you desire my prince” she responds, as demurely as she can muster.

“I do not wish for pleasantries”

She balks at his refusal as she stands before him, tilting her head to observe him closely.

“I meant what I said”

“Are you a whore?”

“I am what you want me to be”

“If I wanted a whore I'd find one more willing, you may quit your farce”

“And what if this isn't one” she finds herself saying.

“Then I have wasted my time and I do not wish to be proven wrong”

She stares at him in bewilderment and defiance meeting his gaze as he turns to pour himself another cup of wine.

“I can entertain you to your heart's content”

“I am not a man who revels in the pleasures you seek to offer”

“You are hard to please, as any prince should be, yet I am not one to yield. Allow me to show you instead” she says confidently walking towards him. He looks at her skeptically, before his eye widens slightly upon hearing the clinks that follow her. He lets her lead him to the chaise nearby, raising an eyebrow at the sound that clings to her while she smiles at his astonishment, ready to finally play her part.

She keeps her gaze on him as she begins her routine, serpentine and sinuous, twisting her arms above her head with precision entrenched in her bones. She feels his eye take in her form, the flow of her wrists twisting like waves to the swell of her breasts rising and falling with each turn, moving in tandem with her hips all while the room jingles with the ring of threes; Noom, Narrah, Nyel. He continues his trail along her frame trying to match her pace and she sees him relax through her lids, taking in his enraptured face.

“Is this to your liking, my prince” she smirks as the ringing comes to a halt, the chanting of her soul, awake at the appraisal in his gaze. She finds her answer soon in the nights to come.

“You move to the sound of the gods” he says as they lie together, sweat clinging to them as the wind wafts through the open windows. It is the second night under the new command of Duskendale and all seems to be at rest, lying in wait for the bells to strike.

“Do you believe in them?” she whispers back, turning to regard him with mirth “I thought the Targaryens fashioned themselves as gods”

“The blood of Old Valyria leaves little to imagination.”

“But Valyria is gone and all you have left in this strange land is the power you wield through the skies” she continues stroking his bare arm.

“Which strange land should I thank for gracing me with such beauty tonight” he whispers, turning a lock of her hair between his fingers as he gazes into her eyes.

“Norvos, across the narrow sea”

“Norvos” he repeats, rolling the syllables around his tongue regarding her with awe. “Are all Norvoshi so,”

“So?”

“Quiet”

“I thought you found my chatter incessant”

“I never heard you” he stops her, “Not once as you crept around the castle all the way into my bed”

“You wish to know my secret?” she asks him playfully “Perhaps my blood is as special as yours”

He scoffs in turn earning a crease to her eyebrows which does not go unnoticed. “We are not so different, you and I. We both seek to soar far beyond what fate plans for us”

“Your riddles can exhaust a man far more than your movements” he huffs petulantly.

“You are only displeased because you cannot decipher this one” she hums thoughtfully earning her a pinch to her hip which she swats away promptly.

“Careful, I am not fond of that wayword tongue of yours” he warns her with a smirk.

“Why when it has given you such pleasure? What is the use of depriving yourself of such an investment” she finds herself giggling in return to the bashful pout of his lips.

It has been long since she's been so enamored with a man. There have been a few, young and beautiful, not immune to the charm she summons at will but none so rigid yet tender that makes her heart want more.

“Dance for me” she hears him say as he lies back, hair splayed around the pillows like a halo.

“As you wish your grace” she responds devilishly, slinking away from his embrace to twinkle under his eye.

Their nights continue with well practiced rhythm as their days stretch on. She finds herself at the precipice of good fortune, confined mostly to his chambers as his prize, content to stay hidden till she's displayed with pride. The King she learns takes offense to her growing presence in his brother’s life yet is dissuaded to take action by his elder hand, his disapproval making itself known in its own way.

“My lady, the prince is betrothed to Lady Baratheon of Storm's End and is to be married in a few moons”

“With the tide of the war changing ever so often I feel it best to practice restraint Lord Hand. I'm playing my part just as everyone, as a loyal servant to the crown won't you agree?”

“As I am certain you are” he responds with distaste.

“The prince seems quite sated does he not? What then I wonder, merits such growing concern. As long as your plans come to fruition I am sure a woman such as me should hardly pose a worthy obstacle” she bites back eager to send him away from her new chambers. Victory in the face of adversity tastes almost as sweet as the dreaded wine she brings to her lips, sipping at it with mock delight as she watches the commotion enfold out her door. As he walks to give way to someone, she hears a familiar scream of anger grace the threshold. Lady Meredyth barges in, red faced and fuming. She finds her predicament almost hilarious were it not for the state she's in. Dressed in mourning for a neglectful husband who managed to give her a daughter too young to give away for the dwindling power she now tries to hoard, she tries to muster whatever pity she can find for the woman, before she opens her rotten mouth.

“You seem mighty pleased with your situation, finally living up to your true potential as the whore you are”

“Widowhood suits you my lady. The black brings out your eyes” she responds back sarcastically.

She sees her spit at her feet before she's escorted away, spewing curses through the halls. There is no greater joy in watching the old crone claim her late husband's chambers where she rode him to death while she lounges on her very own bed waiting to be taken in the arms of pleasure at night.

“What did I tell you about that tongue of yours” he retorts as he pulls her into an alcove at midday.

“To use it more often” she whispers, running her lips along his jaw. The walk she'd managed to take away from her confines had proved to be a welcome change after that harrowing ordeal in the morn.

“You wanton thing. Do not vex me outside of these walls”

“You have my word” she says flightily resuming her course along his neck.

“And much more” he breathes, palms burning through the blue she's clad in. She finds herself smiling as she pulls him closer, enjoying his proximity during the quiet of the day. Perhaps nights are not the only thing to look forward to anymore.

She feels his presence in the hallways later, long before she turns the corner, trying to rid herself of the evidence of her dalliance.

“You've lost your faith” he remarks somewhere behind her.

“I've simply found it around another corner” she replies, turning to face the judgment in his dark eyes. There are bags underneath them, weary with doubt and the wisdom he seems to wield like a weapon.

“He is a dangerous man to be around. Someone who kills his own is not one to be trifled with”

“And yet we've faced far worse”

“Worse than treason?”

“Tell me you don't mean to support yet another foreign queen”

“You've grown slow” he states glaring at her. She finds herself at a loss of words. Her old self would have caught on to what was spoken almost instantly with an equally sharp retort in tow. Shame creeps up on her at being caught off guard, vulnerable and at his mercy.

“I will not fail you” she says, turning to avoid his eyes, tears glistening amongst her own. “I am only doing what I think best”

“And therein lies the problem”

“Lady Meynara” a voice cuts through the silence suffocating her as she turns to face the source of her shame. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back regarding her companion with distrust only for her to turn around to find him gone.

“Do all of you possess such talents of evasiveness” he questions her as she sighs and makes her way towards him.

“It has served us well”

“On the contrary, it makes you noticeable. The very thing you are ever so keen to avoid”

“I think you happen to have a keener eye than most, my prince. Do not fault the entire realm with the same flaw you possess.”

“I would hardly call it that”

“A flaw?”

“More of skill honed and fortune bestowed” he smirks leaning towards her.

“Something that earned you your birthright” she questions back impudently. “I've heard the rumors”

“I didn't think you'd put much stock in them”

“One tends to learn a lot through tales, true and false alike. Besides aren't rumors as such keeping your plan afoot”

“You know far too much to be jesting as such. Do you not fear for your life?” he asks her, eye glinting in the light.

“You'd have me hanging near the gate by now if I was such a threat”

“By your feet” he replies, watching her face darken. “You needn't worry as long as you serve me.”

“That is a threat my prince, far worse than what I'm accustomed to”

“Good, my intentions must be made clear then.”

“And what exactly might they entail”

“Your faith for a price” he says regarding her in earnest. The promise of more lingers on her lips as he leaves her wondering what it is she plans to do about it all.

“You mean to leave” she asks him on the third night they're together, with the moon at its height bathing them both in its embrace. He's reclined on the bed, one arm resting behind his head as he listens to her, eye closed in sequestered bliss.

“Rumors can only serve their purpose with cause to back them”

“You are to leave at dawn then?”

He hums in response as she fidgets with the sheets around her.

“Do not fret, I shall ensure your safety for your word”

“That is a hefty promise”

“And one I intend to keep”

“You will tire of me soon enough.”

“Perhaps,” he says, opening his eye to look at her. “Yet I'm certain it won't be so soon”

She feels the sheets pool at her feet as she rises to sate him for the night, eyes trained on him as she watches him cock his head in piqued interest. There is an unspoken understanding between them as she glides by the bed, running her fingers over the wood to stand in the center of the room, the light from the candles illuminating everything she wishes for him to see.

“Not tonight” she murmurs, running her hands over her hips.

“You'd deny the man who holds your fortune” he asks incredulously.

“I'd offer him something far sweeter”

“And what is sweeter than your company my lady”

“Joining me in ways a man would take his woman”

She sees the bed dip with his weight as he rises, moving with agility to stand before her. She cranes her neck to see him peer down at her, eyebrow raised at the game she wishes for him to play.

“In Norvos, we move like this to show our feelings. For emotion sometimes is best expressed through something tangible” she says reaching forward to steady his arms.

She feels him follow her movements with ease, twisting and turning with surprising accuracy never letting her out of his sight.

“You are a trained warrior”

“So are you, it seems. This is much like swordsmanship”

“All art is said to be inspired”

“What inspires you tonight little soldier” he rasps as he spins her around, arms enclosing her as she stares ahead. She feels his breath against her neck, her back pressed against the ridges of his body leading her to exhale before she writhes in his embrace.

“I do not wish to be a piece in the war you play at”

“We are all pieces to be moved about, each for a different purpose”

“It seems you've mastered my tongue in these past few days”

“I've only claimed what's mine” he says running his hands along her waist.

“Your plan will only work on trust, something the people here lack in abundance. Faith, which you scorn me for holding on to, is only meaningful if adhered to in earnest”

“I don't begrudge your faith” he whispers, turning her around to face him. “Just who it's tied to”

She finds herself mesmerized by the blue of his eye, so still yet violent, unrelenting yet open to the words that spill from her lips. “He is what connects me to who I am”

“To cherish something so deeply is a suffering in itself that I've come to accept. I think you understand that very well, Aemond.”

She feels him stiffen at the mention of his name, fingers clasping her arms tighter before he turns her around in a pirrouette, bowing before her as he ends their performance.

“Always your way, yes” she responds breathlessly.

“I do not wish to mold you Meynara, only to make you realize how well you belong. I can offer you something far more than the life you wish to subject yourself to”

“Wealth and power?”

“Purpose” he says with finality.

“Then I ask one thing of you. Bare yourself to me, in good faith” she whispers, watching him carefully “and I shall do the same.”

“Haven't I seen all of you?” he questions, removing the barrier across his face.

“Not without adornment” she says, reaching down to remove her restraints. “They are as much a part of me as this is of you” she finishes reaching up to cup his face. The sapphire glistens brilliantly as she stares at the angry scar accompanying it, intensifying his beauty.

“Is this what you've heard of” he remarks, gritting his teeth at her request.

“Indeed” she replies, reaching up to stroke his face. “We wear our shame and pride on our sleeve. It is time to embrace it together for the purpose you so wish to achieve”

“It will require much more than I've since asked from you”

“I think it is time I left the chains that bind me my prince, yours will have to suffice for now”

They wake again at the crack of dawn to the domestic bliss of togetherness. There in his chambers she experiences what it means to be a wife at last. The euphoria of nurture, she'd long dreamed of since she was a girl, envelops her in a sense of longing and nostalgia. As she bathes and readies him for battle, she finds herself gazing at him wistfully.

“I shall return soon”

“I am aware. I did not forgo my bindings for a lie”

“You wished to soar did you not.”

“You know, the Norvoshi do not trust a man without a beard. They say one as such lacks the honor to defend and the foresight to lead” she responds by running his blade across his face as he turns away from her.“You have your own honor though”

“Many would disagree. I am said to be cursed ”

“One man's curse is another's blessing. You shall return a King”

“Because I've given you the freedom you desire?” he jests “Your faith is truly boundless”

“As is your routine. Hold still while I finish or they'll have to wait the whole morn for you to ride out with glory”

It is an hour later after she meticulously braids his hair and secures his armor, over his eye and body that she finds herself truly bogged down with the weight of his departure. He kisses her temple as he leaves, the act too chaste for her to protest before he's gone. As she sits ruminating on her time spent with him, she hears the flap of the great wings of Vhagar, leathery and forceful as she rushes to spot her out of her window. A shadow falls over the Dun fort as she flies past, giving way to three rings of the great bell of Duskendale, thrice for the sound of freedom that soars through her heart.

Taglist: @arcielee @succnfuccubus @barbieaemond @watercolorskyy @paprikaquinn @witheredoffherwitch

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen x ofc #fyeahhotdocs #aemond x oc #aemond x fem!oc #hotd fics #zae's fics #aemond fics #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x original female character #hotd fic #fyeahgotocs

75 notes · View notes

bichachonacho · 1 year

Text

I just had to write something for Aemond — I couldn’t help it. I’m wholeheartedly an Aemond apologist 😭

When we were young - pt.1

part 2 ‘All grown up’

Anerya Targaryen is Rhaenyra’s second born, a child sweet and kind— she makes the mistake of falling in love with her uncle Aemond, a boy who couldn’t stand to be anywhere near her.

warnings : angst, abuse, mild cursing, enemies to lovers.

authors note: this is going to be a series and there will be a time jump but they’re children in this chapter <3

—

She sees him from across the room, biting anxiously at her nails as she contemplates walking over to where he and his brother stood. Aegon was busily talking Aemond’s ear off, unamused— Aemond stands beside him with a look of boredom clear on his face. Considering they grew up together and spent almost every second day around one another, she still felt anxiety build inside of her as she thought of approaching him.

“You’re not going to make any progress with the prince if you continue to stare at him idly” Her handmaiden Evelyn mutters to her, elbowing her gently in the side. Evelyn wasn’t much older than Anerya, still in her adolescence— Evelyn was chosen by Rhaenyra herself. Anerya’s mother claiming it would be better if she had a handmaiden her own age to assist her with her needs, rather than an older lady.

“I’m not staring idly, I’m observing everybody” She lies, dropping her hand from her mouth to give her bad habit a rest.

“Everybody just happens to be in Prince Aemond’s direction” Evelyn scoffs, amused at the younger girl’s behaviour. Aneyra was a child no older than twelve, already overcome with her strong feelings toward the prince. Although Evelyn didn’t approve of how she was treated by him, she supported her regardless.

“Talk to him. I’ll busy myself elsewhere” Evelyn reassures her before sauntering off without another word, her action causing Anerya to huff in annoyance. She decided not to waste anymore time and approach her two uncles, her breathing uneven as she grew more anxious with every step.

She stands there wordlessly for a few moments, thinking over what to say as she fiddles mindlessly with the sleeves of her dress. Aegon is the first to notice her, a chuckle leaving his lips as he nudges Aemond. Aemond reluctantly turns to face her, wearing an irritated expression which causes Anerya to shift in discomfort.

“Evening my prince, I was hoping to talk with you for a few moments” She says, her voice trembling slightly.

“What for?” Prince Aemond’s reply is blunt.

“It’s just— we haven’t shared a conversation much over the last few days” She says, her reason sounding more ridiculous out loud than it was in her head.

She swears she sees Aemond mutter a snide comment to Aegon, judging from the way he lets out an ugly laugh after Aemond turns his head slightly toward him. She swallows her embarrassment and continues to stand there waiting.

“Have you started reading the book I gifted you?” She questions him, changing the subject and continuing the conversation that was clearly one sided.

“I read the first few pages and stopped because it bore me to tears” He huffs, causing her to let out a false chuckle. She hides the fact that the book she gave him was her favourite and tries not to show she was hurt from his comment.

“I suppose it is quite boring” She agrees with him despite her own judgement. Silence fills the air, an awkward atmosphere surrounding them as she thinks of more things to talk about. Before she can even open her mouth, the Queen calls for her two sons and rips the opportunity away from her.

Aegon barely spares her a second glance as he walks off, muttering don’t follow us pup as he approaches his mother. Aemond just nods briefly at Anerya before sauntering off, following closely behind his older brother. She finally exhales, feeling her nerves settle once she is left alone again.

She decides to put her attempts aside and move to comfort her cousins who were sitting glumly on a bench to the side. They had just lost their mother, she should’ve been more concerned about their well-being rather than gaining Aemond’s attention. So she did just that, spending the rest of the evening talking to Baela and Rhaena, distracting both her and their minds from everything surrounding them.

—

She hears of the incident between her brother Lucerys and Aemond hours after the commotion had occurred. Fast asleep in her bed, she missed the heated family meeting to settle the debate. From what she hears from Evelyn, she’s grateful she was not present.

She was conflicted, she will always support her brother— that is without question, he was her only younger sibling. They were practically joint at the hip when he was born and there was no one more ecstatic about his birth than she was. Many joked that he was her shadow that followed her with every step she took.

So why was part of her longing to hear Aemond’s side of the story. She had heard of his eye being severely damaged during the fight due to Luke, but as her brother claims— it was self defence. Aneyra decided to take matters into her own hands and find out for herself.

The morning after, she left her bed chamber with gifts in her hands to give to the prince. She wanted to visit him, show she was sorrowful about his injury and then give him a chance to explain what happened. Before she could even approach his door, Ser Cole and another guard stops her.

“The Prince is not taking any visitors” Ser Cole states, blocking the door with his frame.

“I won’t take up too much of his time” She argues, hoping they would cave and let her through. To no avail, they send her away— promising to give her gifts to Prince Aemond on her behalf.

A week passes and she hasn’t heard a word or caught a glimpse of Aemond. She visits everyday, hoping he’d have a change of heart upon hearing her desperation to see him— but she’s met with the same response each day.

She wonders how bad the damage is to his eye, judging from what she’s heard the kitchen maids and handmaidens whisper to each other, it’s quite bad. One evening Aneyra was moving through the halls on her own after supper, eyebrows furrowing when she overhears two kitchen maids scurrying past her.

“His eye is truly frightening. He’ll never marry with that”

Anerya knew that their words meant nothing, he was a fine prince— bound to be betrothed one day, secretly hoping and praying it would be to her. She knew it doesn’t matter if he was scarred, she would love him regardless.

It’s weeks after her last interaction with him before she finally sees Aemond again. Catching her completely off guard, she spots him in the garden late at night, staring up at the leaves on one of the many trees. He obviously snuck out of his bedchamber somehow seeing as he was completely alone, most of the staff already retired to their bedrooms. Anerya couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning in bed she decided to leave for some fresh air.

“I’m glad to see you’re better, my prince” She hums, approaching him quietly as she stands closer behind him. He doesn’t turn around to face her after hearing her speak, his gaze still focused on the tree as he replies.

“Hardly. I’m scarred for eternity— thanks to your brother” He states, tone bitter. She bites the inside of her cheek before moving even closer to him, her hand hesitating to grasp his. She decides against it and just stands beside him. He shifts away from her, avoiding her gaze upon his face, afraid that if he turned slightly she would see his scar.

“I’m sure Luke is deeply sorry. He’s just a child, Aemond. He was scared” She defends her brother, her words causing Aemond to scoff.

“Your words offend me. We’re both children, but I’m a monster now because of him” Aemond mutters, causing a lump to grow in her throat she thinks of other ways to comfort him.

“I’m sorry for my offensive words, I just wish you would find it in your heart to sympathise with him” When he doesn’t respond, she takes it upon herself to grasp his chin— gently pulling his face toward her. A bold move she must admit.

“You’re not a monster to me” She hums, fingers moving to gently caress the skin around his eye. There was a deep scar that ran along the centre of where his eye used to be, the skin still inflamed and slightly irritated— even after having weeks to heal. He narrows his eye at her before harshly pulling her hand away from his face, a look of disgust on his.

“You have no right to touch me” He grunts out in anger before he pushes her up against the tree. The harsh surface causes her to wince in pain as it grates against her back, the pressure of Aemond’s weight causing her to struggle as she tries to push him off of her.

His forearm is pressed up against the nape of her neck, the rest of his body holding her against him as he uses his freehand to pull a blade from his pocket. It was small, barely big enough to be considered a kitchen knife, but the edge was sharp— Anerya could see for herself how dangerous it was.

“No— please, Aemond. Stop it, you’re scaring me” She cries out, struggling to get away from him.

“Since your mother refused to give up your brother’s eye, I shall scar you instead” There’s no emotion behind his eye as he speaks, a sight that causes Anerya to shed tears as she failed to push him off.

She shuts her eyes tightly, the sensation of the blade cutting into her cheek causing her to go numb as Aemond’s hand moves to grasp her jaw. She can barely process the pain as the blade’s tip travels from her upper cheekbone to the corner of her mouth. She feels the blood trail down her face, aswell as her salty tears that burn her now open wound.

She finally manages to push Aemond off of her, crying out in pain as she stumbles away from him— her hand grasping her face as she looks at him with fear in her eyes. As he gazed at her, she barely noticed that he no longer had the dark look in his eye as he did moments ago. He looked almost remorseful. She blinks away her tears before turning on her heel and hastily moving to find Evelyn.

—

“I look hideous. I’m not attending” Aneyra sighs heavily, fingers grazing the now healed but obvious scar on her cheek. It was bold, causing the corner of her mouth to appear slightly uneven every time she smiles. She hated it, the stares she’s received from some of the other handmaidens has been unbearable— she can’t possibly face her whole family at the feast tonight.

“You must attend, Anerya. You’re to leave for Dragonstone in the morning, this will be your last family gathering for god knows how long” Evelyn sighs heavily, her fingers massaging Anerya’s scalp before braiding some of the strands. Evelyn’s right, the controversy about the rightful heir has already caused a rift in the Targaryen family— no one could predict how long the family would be separated for.

“I’m terrified of what people will think and having to face him” Anerya exhales heavily, a shudder running through her body at the thought of seeing the boy who did this to her.

Her beloved Aemond who tarnished everything she thought about him in mere moments.

“Endure it in silence, do not even look in that wretched boy’s direction. He is the spawn of satan himself for doing this to you” She tuts as she eyes out the scar on my face through the mirror.

Aneyra does her best to follow Evelyn’s advice, keeping her head down and chewing on her food quietly while everyone around her chatters idly to one another. She could feel Aemond’s gaze on her, afraid to even look him in the eye, she avoids even lifting her head.

“You’ve barely touched your food” Jace hums, elbowing me gently in the side. She mutters to him that she has no appetite, grateful that he doesn’t press her further about it.

She spent most of her night praying internally that no one would mention the scar on her cheek, she had been absent for just over two weeks— afraid to leave her bedchambers, so it would be resonable for them to question her injury.

Her family knew of her scar, believing that she was sparring with a young boy in a sword fight when he accidentally cut her cheek. Her mother demanded for the boy to be found and punished but Anerya lied about him already fleeing Kingslanding on a boat. Just like she lied about who actually gave her the scar.

“You’ll never marry with that. No one would want you” Aegon snickers from across the table, a grin clear on his face as he eyes out her scar. She tenses up but doesn’t bother looking up at him, seeing it more would only give him more insults to throw.

Her face warms, from the embarrassment she feels from his teasing and the fact the room felt overwhelmingly hot. She huffs before excusing herself from the table, quietly leaving the room and hoping no one would notice. Relief washes over her as she feels the cold breeze brush against her skin.

Her hands loosen their grip on her sleeves as she slowly walks along the hallway, no longer feeling tense. She admires the view from this high— the city almost looking angelic if it weren’t for the harsh reality of what it truly was. Despite that, Anerya was full of sorrow at the thought of leaving this place, the only home she’s ever known.

“You’re leaving tomorrow” She hears Aemond speak behind her, the softest she’s ever heard his voice. Usually his tone was harsh and blunt, uncaring of whether or not she was offended by his attitude.

“Are you sad to go?” He questions when she doesn’t reply nor turn to face him. He approaches her close enough to be a few inches behind her.

She continues her silence, eyes focused on the top of the roofs in the far distance— eyeing the flames that burn and light the streets. It was a beautiful distraction.

“Your prince demands you to speak” He says, his tone harsher. She feels him stand beside her and she tenses up, deciding to finally respond.

“I apologise, Prince Aemond. I am sad to go” She mutters, her voice so faint she questioned whether he could even hear her. It goes silent, the air stiff between them and for once it was Aemond’s mind racing in search of finding something to talk about.

“At least no one knows you in Dragonstone— you could’ve been born with the scar for all they know” Aemond says, his comment sounding more like teasing than reassurance.

“How can you jest when you’ve done so much damage already?” She questions him, her tone harsh— catching him completely off guard. He’s never heard her speak in any other way to him.

“I’m an embarrassment, my friends don’t want to be seen with me— I’m stared at in every hallway I walk through. I won’t marry with this, no one will want to wed me” She doesn’t know where this was coming from, she usually lets her anger settle inside of her.

“If I can be wed one day with this— you will too. You needn’t worry” Aemond hums, indicating to his wounded eye.

“We’re not the same. You’re a prince, second heir to the throne— you will marry regardless. I cannot. I’m hideous now because of it… because of you”

He wants to comfort her, reassure her that she wasn’t hideous— that the scar didn’t take away from her beauty and that he still admired her. That he was sorry for what he did and regrets it wholeheartedly. But the words don’t leave his mouth and he stares at her in silence, blinking at the girl who’s on the verge of crying.

“I apologise for any offence I’ve brought you during my time here. I realise now how overbearing I could be” She changes the subject, no longer staring out but at her hands instead.

“I was trying to pursue a friendship— hoping and praying for love. One day marriage if I was lucky enough” She admits, causing Aemond’s face to warm slightly. He knew she had liked him, that was more than obvious— but hearing she wished to one day marry him made his heart pound.

“But I put those childish wishes and dreams to rest now that I am leaving Kingslanding. I do not intend to return” She says in finalisation. He wants to respond but yet again his words fail him.

“All the best, Prince Aemond” She bids her final goodbye before pushing past him, continuing to make her way back to her bedroom with her head down.

Aemond watches her as she leaves, heart still pounding in his chest and head full of a mixture of emotions. He wondered if he’d ever see her again, silently praying she would one day return to him. The girl he once wished would leave him alone for good is the same girl he wanted to beg to stay.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen angst #aemond x reader #prince aemond #hotd #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x original character #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x y/n

1K notes · View notes

starogeorgina · 11 months

Text

Killer queen

Warnings: Incest

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen OC

1.04

“Muña!”

“Tré!” You call out as your son runs to you with his arms outstretched. The dragon keeper who accompanied him out of the pit nods, then excuses himself. You lifted your son up and kissed his chubby cheeks. “Did you have fun?”

Smiling brightly, he nods his head. Only a week after your son was born, Aemond began taking him dragon riding, so your son, who had just celebrated his fourth name day, was well acquainted with Vhagar. Tré learning to ride a dragon properly so young made you feel more confident for when he would be able to fly on his own dragon, Breeze, when they were both large enough.

His dragon came from a clutch of eggs laid by Aelora. Breeze’s body was silver and glimmered in the sun; his calm nature matched his bonded riders perfectly.

Tré points behind you, “Kepa!”

You watch as Aemond leaves the dragon pit and walks towards you. His toned figure is being hugged nicely by his riding gear as he struts towards you, looking pleased with himself. He rips his leather gloves off with his teeth before stroking the side of Tré’s cheek and brushing stray hairs behind your ear, saying, “You shouldn’t be lifting him in your condition.”

“Nonsense,” you say, shaking your head. “You just worry too much.”

Aemond’s hand rests against your swollen stomach. “I have every reason to be worried.”

Since the maester had confirmed you were pregnant again, Aemond had been treating you as if you were made of glass, which was understandable given how sickly you were during your first pregnancy. Goosebumps spread across your body as you watched Aemond take in your appearance, his eye blown with lust. He loved seeing you in revealing outfits, and the silver dress, which was almost completely backless aside from the thin fabric holding it together at your neck, seemed to be riling him up.

“I have a small counsel meeting to attend soon,” you say, handing your son over to him. Once you became a mother, you felt unsure of where your place was in your family; mother and father were king and queen after all, and having a baby made you want to take on more responsibilities to ensure his future was secure, so your grandsire suggested you attend your father's counsel meetings to learn the way of politics. “However, I will come find you after it while Tré is attending his lessons.”

You smiled, watching as your son snuggled into his father's chest, their silver hair blending together. Aemond still caressed your bump with his free hand while sighing, “I spoke to mother this morning. She wants to know how long we plan on waiting until we try for another once this baby is born.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that we would have our own fleet within the next few years.”

You frowned at him; your first labor had lasted for days and was the worst experience of your life. Several times you begged for someone to end your suffering; of course the pain was worth it the moment your son was brought into the world, but you spent many years contemplating if you even wanted another, then decided you wanted your son to have a sibling, someone to grow up with. A subject you and your mother came to blows over several times.

Aemond chuckles. “I am only jesting, my love; you have already given me the family of my dreams. I would never ask you to go through this again.”

“I know,” you gulp down, feeling a wave of emotion hit you. “I should get going; I will see my favorite boys later.”

You walk away before tears spill from your eyes. By all means, you weren’t hurt or upset by your mother's question; you were angry. Angry that despite you having already made the decision not to have any more children after giving birth to the baby currently growing inside you, she insisted on trying to convince your husband otherwise.

—

When the council meeting was over, you spent some time trying to track Aemond down. He wasn’t in the nursery, library, training yard, or with any of your siblings, and Vhagar was flying riderless outside. It didn’t overly concern you as you knew he must have been inside the keep, but it was irritating as you wanted to spend some alone time with him.

When the knight opens the door to your bedroom chamber, you are welcomed by the sound of singing. You step inside and observe as Aemond sings a lullaby in High Valyrian as he pulls a black-scaled dragon egg out of his satchel.

You lean against the wall and say, “Fatherhood suits you.”

“And motherhood suits you.” Aemond turns around, giving you a devilish smile. He strides towards you, his hands gently gripping your hips, his lips now ghosting your own. “Especially this part, when you are full of my seed and swollen. The dragon growing inside you is strong. It’s easy to tell by the way you are glowing.”

“Hmm,” you nip at his lower lip playfully.

Aemond takes the opportunity and clashes his lips with your own, starting a long and passionate kiss. Just as his hands move to cup your heavy chest, there’s a knock at the door. Looking irritated by the interruption, he swings the door open himself, frightening the servant standing on the other side.

“My Prince,” the man says, giving him a neck bow before moving his attention to you, “princess. Prince Aegon sent me to tell you he’s awaiting you in the dragonpit.”

“Thank you, Silas.”

The servant smiles before bowing his neck again and leaving. Aemond rolls his eyes; he never understood your learning the names of all the servants who you interacted with daily.

You knew Aemond was furious by the way his jaw twitched as he watched you put on a black shawl to keep the chill off your bare back. Sternly, he says, “I thought you weren’t dragon-riding while pregnant.”

“No, I said I wouldn’t be riding on the dragon's back alone,” you corrected. “We will ride out on Sunfyre and fly back on Aelora.”

Unamused, Aemond repositioned his pants so that his hard-on was no longer visible. Huffing, he picks up one of his many books and sits down by the fire without saying another word. Aemond’s real issue wasn’t you going dragon riding; it was because he was jealous. Aelora would rip anyone who tried to mount her aside from you and Aegon to shreds, and your older brother would never let him forget it.

Your husband hadn’t made an effort to hide how envious he was of your connection to Aegon; a part of you always wondered if it was because it was the type of sibling relationship he craved himself, but you wouldn’t dare ask him, knowing the question would embarrass him. “Oh, my darling,” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. “I am simply trying to make the most of my time before the new baby comes, because when she is here, I imagine most of my time will be taken up with her and Tré.”

“I suppose you are right; besides, you’ll need to give our brother plenty of attention now before the new baby arrives. You know how competitive he can be.”

You pout at his words, “Aemond don’t-”

“You keep referring to the baby as a girl,” he says, kissing the back of your hand, changing the subject. “One of each would be nice; I hope she obtains her mother's beauty.”

You kiss him on the lips, then on the top of his scar above his eye. “It would only be fair since our son has gotten all of his good qualities from his father. I will see you once I return.”

“Be safe.”

—

On your walk back from the dragonpit, you hear two servants whispering in the hallway. They notice you staring and immediately curtsy. Smiling, you walk towards them and say, “Hello, I believed I heard my name.”

“Forgive us, princess,” a red-headed girl says frantically. “I meant no disrespect; I was just saying how beautiful your Targaryen hair is.”

“Oh,” your general said, surprised by her honesty. The same servant commented on your attire most days, commenting how wonderful it must be for a princess. “What do you like about it?”

Her face flushes red. “The braids, p-princess.”

“There’s no need to be so afraid. Do you like my braids as well?” You ask, facing the other servant.

She nods.

“Follow me.”

You lead the confused servants through the hallways until you reach your empty bedchamber. You had them both sit in chairs by the fireplace and begin braiding their hair to be similar to yours. During which time you learned the blonde's name was Laura and the redhead was Shayla.

While twirling strands of red hair around your finger, you ask, “How old are you? You look rather young to be working here.”

“One and two, princess.”

You had learned Shayla was the youngest of four daughters and that both her parents had died of a fever; her only living relative who was an adult sent them out for work immediately. “And you were the only sibling sent to work in the keep?”

“Yes, princess, my older sisters were sold to one of the brothels on Silk Street.”

Your hand immediately moves to your stomach, and you rub at it protectively. It terrifies you to think what kind of beasts the poor girls must have to deal with daily. “Do you know which brothel they are in?”

“I’m afraid I do not know princess; I haven’t seen them since the day we were sold. I do miss them terribly.”

You open your mouth to reply, but stop when Laura says, “Forgive me, princess, but it’s getting late. The head of the kitchen will scold me if I do not arrive before the sun sets.”

Hearing the fear in her voice, you give her permission to leave. When she’s gone, you return your attention back to the girl in front of you and ask, “What are your sister's names? And your last name?”

“Ava, Charlotte, and Bridget Our last name is Ford. Princ-”

“You do not need to call me priciness in every sentence,” you laugh softly. You make a mental note to ask Aegon in the morning to help you find these girls before finishing Shayla’s braid, saying, “Thank you for sharing with me. If it pleases you, I’d like to practice braiding your hair again, if that’s okay.”

Her eyes light up. “Of course, Princess.”

The young girl leaves your bedchamber just as your husband arrives; her grin never fades as she curtsies him on her way out, which puzzles Aemond, as most servants are too afraid to even look at him. He brushes it off and wraps his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “How was dragon riding?”

“Excellent; although I think I’m getting rather fat for it, I struggled to strap myself in.”

He presses a kiss behind your ear and says, “I shall inquire into finding straps with more stretch in it.”

“Perhaps,” you turn around to face him, not missing the devilish glint in his eye. You take hold of his hand, moving it to your breast and squeezing. “But I believe we have some time to make up for my husband.”

#house of the dragon #Aemond Targaryen x you #Aemond Targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #killer queen #house of the dragon fandom #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen/you #aemond targaryen/oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x female oc #aemond targaryen x oc

697 notes · View notes

happilyhertale · 10 months

Text

Voiceless - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Summary: As the princess of the realm, the gates of the world are open to you. But after one fateful night, everything seems to change for you.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Author’s note: Hey you (:

Another story, requested by a dear Anon (: Thank you for this request!

I hope you will enjoy it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Warnings: Violence, blood, fluff

Word count: 3.5 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You lean your body against the wall and feel the coldness of the walls flow through your body, while distant echoes reach your ears. The graceful footsteps of servants echo through the corridors, accompanied by soft conversations that float delicately in the air. You hold your breath anxiously and remain hidden, fearing that the slightest sound might betray your presence. Only when the whispers have faded and you are sure they are gone do you let out a sigh of relief and the tension in your chest eases.

With newfound courage, you carefully disengage yourself from the wall. With a deliberate step, you walk through the winding corridors of Driftmark Castle. The dimly lit corridors, a secret labyrinth of shadows and secrets, bear witness to your clandestine excursion. Unnoticed by the outside world, you have escaped from your chambers, driven by a longing to glimpse the heavens once more before returning to the turbulent confines of King's Landing.

You have heard much of the island's enchanting night sky, where the stars appear with effortless brilliance, undisturbed by the burdens of a densely populated city. In this vast expanse of darkness, the stars shine, casting their celestial glow on the calm waters that surround the shores. And so, driven by this longing, you navigate the corridors of the castle, propelled by an inexplicable pull towards the sky that dances above the shores of Driftmark.

The day was accompanied by sadness and cast a shadow over the hours that passed. Your mother urged you and your brothers to be moderate. You were not supposed to frolic, but just stay by your family's side. So you and your brothers mostly just stood around nodding and smiling at the adults occasionally. But all you really wanted to do was frolic in the dunes with Aemond.

Today was the sad occasion of Laena Velaryon's funeral, a painful spectacle. Her daughters Baela and Rhaena have your full sympathy. The very thought of suffering such a devastating loss as that of your own mother Rhaenyra sends a shiver down your spine.

Lost in thought, you approach the exit of the castle. Your reverie was abruptly interrupted, however, and you were jolted back to reality as you perceive low murmurs that soon swelled to a tumultuous clamour. The echoes of discontent turned into cries of frustration and carried the weight of a brewing tantrum. You quicken your steps and approach the source of the uproar, only to be abruptly stopped.

You thought you were the only one awake. Yet here are your brothers standing in front of Aemond and they are shouting at each other. Baela and Rhaena are behind your brothers. You notice immediately that no one is standing next to Aemond. You walk towards the group, but no one seems to be paying attention to you.

"What's going on here? Jace?" you ask.

Jace finally turns his head to you, "Go back to bed, y/n!" he says to you.

But you don't listen to him. You walk on and stand next to Aemond. You see the corners of Aemond's mouth pull up briefly and barely noticeably.

"What's going on here?" you ask again.

"Aemond has claimed Vhagar! Vhagars is our mother's dragon!" shouts Rhaena.

Your eyes grow wide. 'Aemond has what?‘ – immediately pops into your mind. But you can't help feeling a little proud for Aemond.

"Your mother is dead," Aemond says suddenly. Your head snaps to the side, "Aemond!" you hiss.

But Aemond seems to pay you no mind, "Vhagar has a new rider now!" he says proudly.

"It was my right to claim her!" retorts Rhaena.

Before Aemond can reply, you lightly take his arm and try to pull him back a little. You know that arguments between them can escalate quickly.

"Rhaena... it is not written down anywhere who can claim which dragon and when..." you say quietly. "Dragons decide for themselves who they want as a rider," you say a little more confidently now.

Rhaena gives you an angry look, "How would you know? Has your mother died yet? Have you had any experience with who claims her dragon?" she hisses at you.

You are a little startled and take a small step back.

"Shut your filthy mouth," chimes in Aemond and suddenly he shoves you behind him.

"Maybe your cousins will find a pig for you to ride. It would suit you," he says with a sneer.

Rhaena suddenly goes for Aemond, but he grabs her and pushes her to the ground. When Baela suddenly stands in front of him and punches him in the face. He didn't expect that, he goes down. You cry out slightly.

As if of your own accord, you suddenly stand next to Baela and push her away to keep her away from Aemond.

Aemond gets back up, looking hateful. He has clenched his hands into fists and is breathing heavily.

"Attack me again and I'll feed you to my dragon!" he says angrily but still with pride.

You look to him, "Don't do that Aemond..," you say quietly.

He looks at you, his gaze softening a little. But he is immediately distracted again when he notices Jace coming towards him.

But it's too late, Jace punches him square in the face. You cry out.

"No! Jace!" you scream, trying to pull him away, but Jace just shoves you aside. He tries to hit Aemond again. He punches several times in Aemond's direction, but to no avail. Aemond deflects each blow. Until Aemond kicks at Jace and he simply goes down.

Suddenly there is a scream from Luke and he tries to go for Aemond. But Aemond just punches him in the face.

"Aemond!" you shout, and run to Luke, who is on the floor. His nose is bleeding and he is whimpering softly. You try to comfort him.

When you turn back to Aemond, you see the others coming at him. Aemond is lying on the ground and the others are standing over him. They kick and hit him. You stroke Luke's head once more before running back over to the others. You get hold of Rhaena's hair and pull her away from Aemond. She struggles, but you push her away, "Stop it now!" you shout at her.

Jace turns to you briefly when he hears you scream. But at that moment Aemond kicks him to the ground again.

Aemond stands again, breathing heavily. Luke goes towards him, but Aemond just grabs him by the collar. Suddenly you notice him holding a rock in his other hand and raising it menacingly. You are too frightened to react.

"You will die in the flames, just as your father did!" he hisses at Luke.

You just gasp out, "Aemond! Stop that right now!"

But Aemond is too angry to even notice anything else

"Bastards," he says hatefully.

"Aemond! Are you out of your mind?" you say angrily. You walk towards the two of them. Luke just whimpers softly, "But my father is still alive..," he says quietly.

Aemond looks surprised, "He doesn't know, does he? Lord Strong?" he says.

"Aemond. Stop it right now," you say to him again.

Luke has tears in his eyes

But suddenly Aemond pushes you to the ground and now you're irritated, but then you see Jace coming at Aemond with a dagger. It takes you too long to process this.

But then Aemond hits Jace with the stone. You get up and go back to Aemond, wanting to pull him away from the group, "Stop that, Aemond! Come with me" you shout.

You turn back to Jace and at that moment you feel a searing pain. You grab your neck and your hands are instantly wet. You hear a blade fall to the floor. You immediately look to Aemond in panic, tears are in your eyes. You are in pain and you start breathing faster. You can't scream and you panic even more. But instead Aemond screams.

"I will let you burn!!! You will die for this!!!" he screams over and over. You slump down and cry silently.

"No!", Aemond shouts and is immediately at your side.

"It's going to be alright! Y/n! Please..," Aemond says almost pleadingly.

"Y/n!" shouts Jace as he realises what he has done, kneeling beside you as well.

Aemond stands back up. He breathes heavily and feels an incomprehensible rage inside him. The rage inside him feels like nothing he has ever felt before. He still has the stone in his hand. He lets his gaze wander to the stone as his chest rises and falls, heavier and faster, again and again. He raises his hand and wants to hit Jace with the stone.

When all of a sudden Luke yells out. At the high-pitched scream, you look up. He has the blade in his hand and swings it.

Aemond notices too late, but suddenly he screams out and holds his eye. You have never heard such a pained scream. You push Jace away from you, desperately trying to crawl over to Aemond. By now your hands are covered in blood and dust, your own pain completely forgotten. You kneel by Aemond's side and are only distantly aware of Jace shouting at Luke. It slowly dawns on both of them what they have done. Rhaena and Baela stand terrified in the corner, not daring to say anything.

You, on the other hand, want to say something. You try to speak. You open your mouth and try to force words out of you. But no matter how hard you try, your throat only hurts. Every time you try to say something, it feels like nails are being driven into your throat and more blood runs down your throat. The front of your dress is now soaked with your blood.

You grab Aemond by the shoulder and try to turn him towards you. As he lies on his back, he whimpers and you see more blood. Your whimpering mingles with his and you let out a soundless scream. His blood mixes with yours on your dress as you lean down and try to embrace him.

Suddenly the Kingsguard comes running.

Tears run down your face. But the tears are not an expression of pain, but of helplessness. Because Aemond lies screaming on the ground and you can do nothing to help him. His hand covers his left eye. More and more blood seeps through between his fingers.

You are only distantly aware of being taken aside, you only have eyes for Aemond.

Everything happens so quickly. And the next moment you are in the throne room. The wound over Aemond's eye is being stitched. He is sitting on a chair and a maester is standing in front of him. You are lying on a couch with two maesters bending over you. You have been given poppy juice and are light-headed. After the bleeding has stopped, your throat will be stitched. Tears keep running down your face. When the maesters have finished, you turn your head to Aemond. You see him contort his face in pain as the maester applies the needle. You try to sit up, but the maesters push you back.

"You should lie down for a while, princess," says one of the maesters.

You want to answer, but when you open your mouth, no words pass your lips.

The maesters cast a meaningful glance at each other. At that moment your mother comes storming into the throne room. She goes worriedly to your brothers and hugs them briefly. But quickly she continues to look around, her eyes searching for you. And then she sees you and horror is written all over her face.

She comes rushing towards you.

"Y/n!" she calls. With her soft hands she takes your face in her hands.

"My girl, what's wrong?" but you can't answer and that scares you even more. Tears well up in your eyes. Your mother looks at the maesters, "What is going on? Why can't my daughter speak?" she asks demandingly.

And then the maesters explain to her that you will probably never be able to speak again.

"A silent princess...", your mother murmurs with tears in her eyes.

Some years have passed since then and you have come to terms with the situation as best you can. The scar on your throat has healed completely, but it still makes you uncomfortable. In the evening, you sit in front of the mirror and apply ointments to the scar, hoping that one day it will hardly be visible. But you can't stand the sight of it for long.

Usually the scar is covered with a scarf to hide it from prying eyes. You are very ashamed of it and it burdens you even more that you can never speak to the lords and ladies of the court. Nevertheless, you have learned to observe your surroundings carefully and to notice the smallest changes.

But this has also led to increasing isolation. Still, Aemond can be found by your side most of the time. Even before the accident you had felt a certain closeness to each other, but now you are connected because of your shared loss. Aemond shares much of his day with you, telling you about the books he is reading. Sometimes he even assures you that you are not missing anything by not taking part in the conversations at court, as they are all trivial and boring.

And you answer him tirelessly with the art of writing. Every morning, when the busy maids help you to dress, you carefully tie a small roll of parchment around your wrist. In a tiny pocket that you have carefully attached to your dress is a precious piece of charcoal. These humble tools serve as channels for your communication.

On this roll of parchment you write all the feelings and thoughts you wish to convey. Your bold and solemn as well as sometimes cheeky responses find their eternal place on this paper that will forever go down in history. Somehow you like the idea that everything you share will be recorded. Unless, in a fit of frustration, Aemond throws your cheeky answers into the nearest fire and tries to give you an annoyed look. Then you can't help a slight chuckle.

Over the years, feelings have been stirring within you. You have watched Aemond grow into an impressive young man. Even in his clothes you notice the muscular development of his body through his hard training. This thought pleases you immensely. Sometimes you cannot suppress a giggle when you meet him after training - sweaty and breathing heavily. Aemond then looks at you in confusion, but you just shake your head as your cheeks redden slightly.

Likewise, you enjoy your quiet moments together. You just sit together then, giving each other comfort. Just as you suffer from your scar, Aemond suffers from the scar that adorns his face. And he cannot cover it as easily as you can cover yours. But your conscience still torments you often because you could not protect Aemond back then. You may have lost your voice, but Aemond has lost half his sight. Since birth, he has had to fight for everything he has, and it seems that nothing will ever change. But the fact that you could not prevent your brothers from going against Aemond and that he had to give up his eye for it, eats away at you and gnaws at your inner self.

When the overwhelming feeling spreads through you, you do not even seem worthy to enjoy his presence or attention. As you stand in the training yard one day, your thoughts are once again corroded by this guilt. An uneasy state fills your chest and a pressure makes itself felt. Suddenly, however, you are torn from your thoughts. Aemond stands before you and a smile adorns his face.

"I have not seen you at all today," he says softly and his smile widens.

You smile too and take your small roll of parchment in your hand.

"I've been hiding from you," you hold out to him on the paper.

He chuckles briefly and suddenly holds out a small flower to you

"I saw this and thought of you," he says softly. With delicate grace, his fingertips caress a delicate strand of your hair and gently stroke it behind your ear. As if guided by nature's whisper, he lovingly nestles a flower in your curls and adorns you with an enchanting touch.

You are overwhelmed by the sheer grace of his gentleness

"Will you wait for me until the training is over?", Aemond asks you, but your mind drifts, deaf to his words.

The suffocating weight in your chest persists and grows stronger. It feels almost unbearable that he has such endearing qualities and showers you with care while you have been powerless to protect him from the clutches of your own brothers who are responsible for his painful loss.

"Y/n?", Aemond asks you again to get your attention.

"I can't read your mind yet, you have to write it down," he says teasingly.

But your eyes suddenly fill with tears – Aemond's gaze instantly panics.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" he asks. He wants to caress the softness of your cheek to soothe you. Unfortunately, fate intervenes and as he reaches out to caress your cheek, you turn and hurry away. Aemond is visibly irritated, but he cannot resist and follows you.

"Hey! Y/n, what's wrong?", Aemond calls after you.

You walk into the gardens and wipe away your tears.

By the rose bushes, Aemond reaches you and grabs you almost gently by the arm. He turns you towards him and you look at him.

"Hey..." he says gently, wiping away your tears.

"Tell me what's wrong," he adds.

You hesitate at first. But then sob quietly and then take the parchment in your hand.

"I'm sorry," you write simply.

Aemond reads these words again and again. His eye dart over the paper, as if he wants to grasp something that is between the lines and still eludes his eye.

"What exactly do you want to apologise for?" he asks you quietly after a while.

You sob quietly and start writing again.

"That I could not prevent it," he reads next.

Again his eye dart over the paper several times.

He looks up, "That you couldn't prevent what exactly?" he asks you.

Now you are starting to look annoyed.

"Pardon me, y/n, I can't figure it out," he says.

You write again, "I thought you were smart?" reads Aemond this time.

He looks up at you again.

"What's bothering you?" he says and sighs.

You start again

"I couldn't stop Luke from taking your eye. I left you alone, so to speak... It still gnaws at my conscience," with each word Aemond reads, his lips move slightly. He slowly looks up at you.

"You silly... It's not your fault I lost my eye after all... You didn't swing the dagger," Aemond says softly.

But you shake your head and start writing again.

"I should have stopped Jace and Luke... I could have done more. I should have just taken you and walked away with you. Neither of us would have been hurt. You could still see with both eyes and I wouldn't have to write on those stupid pieces of paper. I don't deserve your attention," you hold out to him on the paper.

Tears well up in your eyes again and as Aemond looks back up, shaking his head slightly.

"No," he says simply, taking your face in his hands.

"No. It's not your fault," he says to you. With his thumb he gently wipes a tear from your cheek.

"If it hadn't been for you, far more would have happened. Perhaps one of us wouldn't be alive," he says to you.

You want to shake your head again, but his hands won't let you.

"I don't care how much you resist... it's not your fault and you are the only person on this cursed earth who deserves my attention," he says softly.

You notice him slowly lean forward. Your breath catches and before you realise what is happening, his soft lips are on yours. Gently they nestle around your lips. You close your eyes and give in to the feeling.

His tongue explores yours and the feeling of being so close to him is as sweet as a warm summer day. You feel the warmth emanating from him and it envelops you completely.

After a short time, Aemond releases his lips from yours. He leans his forehead against yours.

"Don't ever think like that again... You saved my life... In that horrible night and afterwards... When you were always by my side," he whispers, his lips inches from yours. You just smile and let your lips meet his again.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx @praline357 @melsunshine @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @lauftivy @believeinthefireflies95

532 notes · View notes

asoiafsworld · 1 year

Text

STAND BY ME.

pairing; aemond targaryen x original female character (alysanne velaryon)

summary; alysanne velaryon, jacaerys velaryon's twin sister and daughter to queen rhaenyra targaryen, has been betrothed to aemond targaryen since she was a little girl and has loved him since then too. king viserys dies however and war breaks out between their families. when alysanne learns of her brother's death caused by the man she loves, she does the only right thing.

warnings; hotd 1x10 spoilers, mentions of stillbirth, mentions and descriptions of self harm, major character death, very sad and painful, alysanne has bad anger issues, and she has psychopathic tendencies, my oc is really a emotional rollercoaster, blood, violence, revenge, sad ending

author's note; this fic is very painful to read at times so i just want to warn once more and its not all about her relationship with aemond, theres a lot of stuff about alysanne with her family too. i was going to make this a reader imagine but i felt that an oc would suit this more since its so angsty and gets pretty violent, i hope u guys still enjoy <3 jacaerys and alysanne are aged up here and are both only two years younger than aemond (jace and alysanne are 18, aemond is 20) and alysanne referrs to daemon as her father but hes not. also i imagine a young jodie comer as alysanne but u can imagine whoever u want! and everything that is written in cursive is a flashback an anything that is only in bold is alysanne's thoughts!! pls tell me what u guys think

masterlist

⊱ ───────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ───────── ⊰

"Shh! We need to be quiet!"

Aemond tried to look at her as sternly as possible but couldn't hold on to his giggle as she looked at him as apologetically and sweetly as she could. Before he could think any longer about how beautiful she looked as only the fire in the dungeons illuminated her face, he grabbed her hand and went further down the stairs to the underground room where the skull of Balerion the Black Dread was kept.

Alysanne gasped at the sight and was sure she had never seen a head this big from the dragons that lived still. She was small, a growing girl of four and ten and was definitely dwarfed even more as she stood in front of the skull of a creature that lived not too long ago.

"What a huge skull... He must have crushed people just by laying his head on them! Do you think Vhagar will be so big too one day?"

Aemond smiled at her and cupped her cheek with one hand, softly brushing his thumb over her temple.

"I know she will. And when she is that big, you will be in the skies with her, with me. Right by my side where you belong."

Alysanne smiled shyly, her cheeks red from how sweetly he was holding her and looking at her. She had liked Aemond for so long even though their families were so opposed to each other. To their luck, her grandfather, King Viserys announced on Aemond's eight nameday that they would be betrothed and no one else was delighted except the two of them. She remembered her mother pleading with her father to still wait and to not rush into betrothals and Queen Alicent had said the same but the King would hear none of it. He saw how the two of them spent most of their time with each other after all.

Aemond was closer to her now, his breath on her lips, his hand going from her cheek to holding the back of her head in place. His forehead found its place on hers and even though he had only one eye, it stared at her in intensity and adoration.

"You look beautiful like this... Just the fire that gives me a sight of your incredible, gorgeous face. How do I deserve a betrothed like you? Tell me, what Gods did I please for you to be mine?"

She blushed even more at his words, so sweet and unrelenting in making her see that she was the most beautiful woman that ever lived, in his eyes. She brought up her hand to his cheek, the one that bared his scar. She softly admired how brave it made him look, how it proved that he was the bravest warrior of them all with the scar to prove it.

"You deserve it by simply being you, Aemond. I am yours and you are mine and in due time, we will marry and it will be official. I will be yours as you are mine, now and always."

His heart clenched at her words and he pressed the softest of kisses on her lips, his touch as gentle as if he was holding a flower... His little flower, forever his.

Alysanne's heart feels as it's ripped apart in two. She is confused, she is angry, she is sad but does not know at what or whom. The gods are playing tricks on us, she thinks as she helps her mother in wrapping up her dead little sister. Cruel and selfish tricks.

It does not make sense to her, none of it. Her grandsire dies, the Greens crown a usurper and tell everyone a lie, that the King had wished for Aegon to be King in his last breath and Alysanne and her family sit at Dragonstone, unbeknownst of the horrors that were going on in the capital. She does not understand it, none of it. Does not understand why Aemond is letting them do this, letting them crown anyone else other than her mother... He could never marry Alysanne like this.

Her hands are covered in blood, in her dead sister's and mother's from the wrapping. She does not wish to wash it off, wants to keep it on her hands, fly to King's Landing at this moment and present her bloodied hands to the Queen Dowager and her father. Look at what you have done, she wants to scream. She wants to take the bundled up baby on the table and present it to them, make the bitch of a Queen look at it. Look at how you've killed my sister. My little Visenya.

"Alysanne." She hears her mother's voice clear up the fog of anger in her mind and wonders how many times she had called her already. The princess of eight and ten looks up at her mother and sees the grief and sorrow in her eyes but mostly concern. "My darling, do not let your anger take you over again, it is unneeded at this moment. Come, wash the blood of. We need to... do the burning."

"I do not wish to wash my blood off, mother. I want to smear it in her face and tell her that she deserves death for what she has done. Letting grandsire rot in his place for days before telling anyone he was even dead, killing my sister in cold blood and putting Aegon on the throne. She will pay for this... she will."

Rhaenyra knows she can say nothing to sway her mind at the moment, her only daughter's bloodlust and want for revenge mirroring something that Daemon would probably be proud of. She wonders when this happened, wonders when her own daughter became such a hardened woman, when the love she had for her family turned into protectiveness and when that turned into anger. No one except for Rhaenyra knows that everything Alysanne does is out of love for her family, not even Jacaerys who is the girl's own twin realizes this. She wonders if that anger will be reflected at Aemond too, the only person she holds any love for outside of her family. Alysanne has not uttered a single word of him ever since Rhaenys told them of what had happened.

Alysanne listens to her all the same because she could not be mad at her mother, the woman who loves her so much and lost everything. She may be a bloodthirsty, angry woman but she is still her mother's child, nothing changes that, ever. So she washes the blood off of herself, gets dressed in an all black dress and attends her sister's funeral. She stands next to her brothers and her face remains stone cold but a few tears slip past her cheeks as her sister's tiny, small body burns. She has to breathe in and out through her nose to control her emotions from overboiling and does not know what would happen if she could not control herself.

They stole my mother's crown and her throne. They stole her and my brother's birthright. They stole me of my sweet sister... And for that, the Hightowers will burn, she thinks. Otto, Alicent, Aegon. Otto, Alicent, Aegon. Otto, Alicent, Aegon.

She repeats their names in her head. She would not kill Helaena, the sister wife of the usurper had done no harm to her or her family, just like Aegon's children.

She does not think of Aemond, of what will happen to him, of what she will do about him... or what her father will do to him. She wonders if he's trying to find an excuse in his head for betraying her like this, if he tells himself that him and his brother will make sure her family will be gone before long and force her to marry him... But that is not Aemond's way.

She can not think of Aemond. She does not want to think of Aemond. She still loves Aemond.

They stood on opposing sides of the throne room, so close yet so far away. Aemond studied her closely, how much taller she had grown, how her beauty could not match that of a single lady in the Seven Kingdoms. The sun was she to him, feeling as if he could stand and live with her in his presence. The air was she to him, needing her to breathe and to calm himself down when his mind was plagued by his demons once more. Life was she to him, something worth fighting for and the sole reason he put up with her rather annoying family.

Alysanne could tell that her betrothed had eyes for no one but her, he was not listening to the Hand when he sat the throne, nor did he look away from her when the King marched up to his throne and settled matters. She only stole a few glances at him but had to hide her smile at the way he did not stop staring at her all the same. To him, none of what was happening mattered... He only cared about meeting his lovely betrothed again.

To her however, it was not so unimportant. Her brother's legitimacy was being questioned and ever since the accident at Driftmark where her brother had taken her betrothed's eye, tensions were as high as ever between the two families. She remembered that night, when she was called upon from her bed and had to look at her brothers' bloodied faces and wondered how foolish they could have been to do something like that. If she thought back on it, it was probably the moment that made her into the cold, hardened woman that she became over the years, realizing that no one but her family would be there for her, care for her and protect her... and she strived to do the same for them.

Aemond only ripped his eyes away from her when Daemon sliced Dark Sister through Vaemond, a move that shocked most people in the throne room. She was glad to see him gone and dead for calling her brothers bastards and her mother a whore... he deserved it.

Everyone in the throne room left as the matter was settled. Lucerys would inherit Driftmark as was his birthright and the young princess was glad of it because she would not have the Hightower snakes get their way, no matter what it was.

She had been told that the King had requested a dinner with the entire family and she wondered how well that would pass but Alysanne got ready for it nonetheless. She wore a beautiful black and red gown, accentuated with the dragon sigil of her mother's house that she had always been proud of. After the handmaidens had left, there was a knock on the door and when she turned around, it was Aemond entering through the door.

She looked at him with wide eyes and walked up to him, pulling him into the room by his arm and closing the doors before anyone else could see him. Her mind was reeling from where she had touched Aemond's skin and she hoped that the effect he had on her was not so apparent to him as she turned around. But Aemond clearly did not care for not showing his feelings as he caged her against the door, so close to her again like the first and last time they kissed. His hand came up to hold her chin and made her look up at him and oh, how the touch burned under his gentle fingers.

"Tell me, my little flower, has anything changed between us?" Alysanne knew that he did not wish to show his insecurity to her but it was reflected in his voice all the same, sounding scared of her feelings not being the same as they were before. She knew that he still very clearly felt just like four years ago when they had last seen each other, his love just as she always knew it... Resistant, powerful and undying.

"Well, I have changed in the years since we last met. I am a woman grown now, did you know? My nameday was a few moons ago. I have grown colder, harder and stronger in every way. It may be that even my heart has turned to ice for I do not wish for anyone in my company except the people I love." Alysanne leaned closer to him, their lips almost touching, the distance between them able to be closed in less than a second.

"But whatever part of my heart holds it's love for you has clearly not turned into ice... because I look at you and see you standing in front of me so closely, see you looking at me like you'll never love someone like you'll love me. And I realize that yes, I do love you still, have loved you for so many years and might never love anyone else except for you. I do not believe I could ever be with another man."

Aemond did not show it but she saw the relief take over his body, his shoulders releasing it's tension and he sighed deeply, closed his eye and leaned his forehead against hers. She placed a small, featherlight kiss on his lips and furrowed her eyebrows at how little it did to satisfy her. She tried to press her lips to his again but he held her back with a thumb on her lips and his eye opened again, looking at her with hunger and resistance.

"I wish to kiss you until you are breathless and beg me for more but we can not, my love. If we do, I could not stop and control myself from doing something so sinful that would have our mothers marry us swiftly in the sept tomorrow. Which of course, I would not oppose to but I shall not risk things with you. I want to do it properly, have a feast for us and have everyone in Westeros celebrate our union. With you, I will do things right. You deserve no less, my dragon."

Alysanne hated how her heart swelled at his words, hated how he spoke so gently and softly with her like he had when they were children. When she was a different woman, a girl still, she would have embraced and loved the way he made her feel and how he confessed his love for her and his wish to marry. But as it was, Alysanne was a changed woman and hated that she had so long ago fallen for a man that she was supposed to hate... One day, war would break out and they would be on opposite sides.

She did not have to think about it much longer as Aemond had to leave to get ready for the dinner himself. He pressed a small kiss to her lips that stirred things in her heart that she could not explain, a turmoil of emotions in her heart and mind after every word and every kiss of his lips. She composed herself and decided to visit her sickly grandsire since he had asked her to come see him before they would have dinner when she was there with her mother, father and siblings this morning.

Alysanne always had a special bond with King Viserys. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was his favorite child and that he loved her very dearly and therefore loved her grandchildren as well. When he held Jacaerys and Alysanne for the first time in his arms, he cried and blessed them both, her mother had told her. When she was a child and still lived in the Red Keep, she had often played with him, let him help her learn to read and write. It pained her to see him so weak and in pain but she would still go to see him, simply because she loved him so dearly.

She entered his chambers just as he had seemingly gotten ready dressing with the help of maids and servants. He seemed clearer in his state of mind than he was before, a crooked smile on his lips as he saw her entering. The maids and servants left them and Alysanne sat down next to her grandsire in front of the fire place. He looked at her lovingly and gently grabbed her hand, his grip weak but still full of adoration for his oldest granddaughter.

"My dearest Alysanne, my pride and joy. I know they say that we should not pick favorites, in children or grandchildren... but I think you know that I have loved you so much since you were placed in my arms, as if it was Rhaenyra put in my arms all over again. Because I love you so dearly, I need to ask you this and want to give you a choice, something that I sadly could not do for Rhaenyra."

The King spoke slowly but he still commanded presence even in his weakly state. Alysanne wanted to cry at how he looked, so breakable and ill, as if he could die at this very moment but she continued to listen to him attentively. He looked up with the one eye that was visible and she saw all the love he held for her, just like when she was a little girl.

"Alysanne, please be truthful when you answer me this. Do you love Aemond?"

Alysanne's breath hitched at the question and she felt a lump so heavy in her throat that the words would not come out at first. She knew that the only reason for his question was to possibly confirm a future marriage and maybe even set a loose date for a wedding and knew that if she said no, her grandfather would not hesitate in calling the marriage off. It was his hope for Alysanne to marry Aemond so that an inevitable conflict in the future could be avoided... besides that, Aemond had demanded since Alysanne's most recent nameday to plan the wedding. She knew that if she said no, her parents and brothers would be more than pleased and happy about it. She knew that if she said no, she could avoid having to live with the awful, other side of her family. She knew that if she said no, she would avoid the inner turmoil inside her that told her that she could not love, that she was too cold and unloving for marriage.

"Yes."

Alysanne knew of the dangers that would come if she said yes. She did it anyway.

Alysanne had claimed the Cannibal at the mere age of four and ten to everyone's great surprise. When her, Jace and her younger siblings were born, they had all received dragon eggs from Syrax as their mother wanted her children to have a lifelong bond with their dragons as well. Jace, Luke and Joffrey's eggs all hatched and all three of them, respectively, had Vermax, Arrax and Tyraxes as their bonded dragons. Alysanne's egg however had turned into stone when she was still a babe and in that entire time, Syrax did not hatch more eggs for the young princess to claim.

To be truthful, Alysanne did not care much for having a dragon. The bond and the care for a dragon was not something she deemed herself to have and having three brothers who rode dragons was surely enough in the family. However, after the incident at Driftmark, Alysanne changed her mind about it. She loved Aemond back then, knew he would not hurt her but him having Vhagar would make things difficult for her in the future, she knew that.

She had thought about claiming Sea Smoke whilst she was still at Driftmark then but knew that she needed a dragon that would match Vhagar not just in fiercness but in size. So when she was back at Dragonstone, she tried her luck first with Silverwing, the dragon that ironically belonged to her namesake once before and followed the advice of the Dragonkeepers at Dragonstone. Alysanne had tried to claim her in a duration of many moons but the Dragonkeepers deemed it a hopeless cause. She tried Vermithor next, the largest unclaimed dragon that had been ridden before by the Old King, Jaehaerys I. She tried to claim him for almost a year, sang to him in Valyrian as he liked it, didn't show her fear in front of him. The Dragonkeepers decided to observe her the last time that she went to tell her what she was doing wrong.

"You are too fierce for them, my princess. Dragons can feel our emotions, our feelings and our true ambitions and they bond with whoever they match best with. And I'm sorry to say it, my princess but you are simply too angry for them, even for Vermithor."

She was frustrated at that and wondered how she was ever supposed to have a dragon when she remembered the three wild dragons that still resided on Dragonstone that were never claimed by anyone. Surely, I must be angry enough for them, she thinks. One of them has to be as hateful and angry as me.

The first two wild dragons that she came across in the more abandoned areas of Dragonstone, Grey Ghost and Sheepstealer fled her as soon as she came closer, there was no real chance at getting close to them which disappointed her greatly. She was in all seriousness not considering to approach the Cannibal so she just wanted to leave the dragon be that was feasting on a poor animal just in her line of sight. The beast however had other plans for her, letting off of the dead animal and focusing on her and coming closer at a speed that she did not expect. He stopped right in front of her and his eyes studied her closely, circling her from left to right as if asessing if she was worth to be eaten. She was not scared however and only looked him in his eyes bravely. After a few more minutes, he stopped and gave her a nudge with its big head. From that day on, she understood what was meant with that bond, knew that he had assessed her and let her claim him because she matched his anger

The Cannibal was overall the second largest dragon that still lived but the size difference between this dragon and Vhagar was so small that most people assumed that they were the same size. Besides, the Cannibal was suprisingly quick, in the sky and on the ground which was an advantage against Vhagar who, due to her oldness, had become rather slow.

Neverthless, it was a miracle that the beast had accepted Alysanne as it's first ever rider, Alysanne, who was only four and ten and still a tiny girl, rode the second largest dragon in the world and a wild dragon at that, the first one to tame it. She was of course scolded greatly for it by her mother but Daemon could only look at her proudly.

It was ironic, really. Alysanne was scolded all night by her mother who kept asking her why she did it, why she was so obsessed with having a dragon, one that was impossible to claim and terrifying as well. To prepare for war, she thought. To prepare for a war to defend you and my family. A war I have been preparing for since I was a child.

Holding council is truly a dreadful thing. Counting out who would support their side, who would hold honor their oaths given to her mother many years ago and which dragons could fight for their side.

"My prince, we may be in the lead with dragons but Prince Aemond still possesses the largest dragon alive. It will be a hard task to defeat Vhagar." The other lords around the table seem to agree and she cuts Daemon off before he can reply.

"Leave Vhagar to me, my lord. I'm sure that me and Cannibal can handle her." The table falls into silence at that and she sees from the corners of her eye that her mother and father are not agreed on that statement. The silence is interrupted by Ser Erryk who informs the council that a ship from the Greens had been seen on the shores and the council room is quickly cleared, leaving only Alysanne, Jace and Luke in the room.

She continues to assess the table and what allies they have when Luke places his hand on hers on the table. She looks over at him and sees that he looks concerned for her, his hand soft and warm on hers and so small. She pulls her hand out and places it on top of his, softly brushing her thumb over his. Sadly, her change in personality had also affected her relationships with her brothers. She spent so much time training Cannibal for possible fights with other dragons and herself spent more time into training with a sword as well. Still, she never acts cold towards them, never lashes her anger out at them because she lives for them and for the affection and love she receives from them. Luke still looks concerned but doesn't voice his worries. Instead, Jace does.

"Alysanne... If you mean to 'take care' of Vhagar, you mean to kill her... But for that, you will need to kill Aemond too."

She knew that it was exactly what all the lords around the table had questioned because Aemond's affections and love for his long time betrothed were so well known by everyone in the realm. She sighs deeply and knows deep down in her heart that it rebels at the thought of having to kill her one true love, the one man she loves. She hides her turmoil and problems under a practiced mask and puts on a smile that fools Luke and almost would have fooled Jacaerys. She softly grabs his hand and holds it tightly, needing to feel her twins' presence next to her.

"Don't worry about me, brothers. We aren't officially at war yet but when it comes to it, I will do what I must to defend us and to fight for our mother's and your birthright."

"I may not live for much longer... but I wish for one last thing before I might leave this earth forever." The King looks at Aemond and then at Alysanne at the dinner table with something that she assumed was a smile on his face. She realized then that this was it, that she had sealed her fate forever with the words she had uttered just hours ago in his chambers... She just didn't know that it would happen so soon.

"To mend the estrangement between our families, I have decided that Prince Aemond and Princess Alysanne shall be married to each other swiftly and soon, possibly after Rhaenyra gives birth. Then, we will celebrate the biggest wedding the Seven Kingdoms have ever seen. Then the gods can happily take me away."

The news of the wedding was a shock for everyone at the table and Alysanne swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat for she could feel the stares from both sides. Pretty much everyone either forgot the betrothal or opted to ignore it, knowing it still existed but not truly thinking of what would further happen with it. So to hear the King's words made both of her parents look at her in confusion and shock and Jace was almost uncontrollable with anger, wanting to punch the one eyed Prince right in his face. Before anything further could escalate, Aemond stood up with his cup in his hand, looking right at Alysanne who only had her cold gaze on the table.

"I wish to toast to my betrothed and soon enough, my wife. It has been twelve years since we were engaged and throughout our shared youth, you didn't fail to make me fall in love with you. Every time that I have seen you since only further proves that my love for you never dwindled or disappeared but simply resurfaced when I saw your evergrowing beauty through the years. I have loved you for years and will continue to love you until my dying breath. To You, my love."

Even though Alysanne felt sick at the looks that her family was giving her, she still had a tiny smile on her face and looked at Aemond lovingly, unable to hold her stoic, cold expression any longer. He smiled at her, genuinely and she wished he didn't.

Nothing in this world was more difficult for Alysanne than loving Aemond Targaryen.

Her father is furious as he comes back from their meeting with Otto Hightower, her mother as unreadable as ever. Alysanne thinks it was a good idea that she did not come for she would have ripped him apart, whether her mother commanded otherwise or not. The Council is only reconvened for a few moments before everyone is told to leave the room except for Alysanne, Jacaerys and Lucerys. The oldest daughter watches Daemon walk up and down the fireplace as he thinks hard about something she does not know. Her mother is across from her on the other side of the table, her brothers are next to her.

"Otto Hightower also mentioned your promised betrothal to Aemond. He said that we should go through with it and that it would mend the drift between our families and prevent war."

Alysanne's mind reels as she thinks about those words and wonders if a simple marriage between a second son and an eldest daughter would really mend anything... her mind immediately answers her, clear and aggressive. She does not believe she can marry Aemond with how he had betrayed her. Suddenly, Daemon turns around and looks at Alysanne, almost menacingly.

"If you had never said a single word to my brother no one would care for this stupid betrothal anymore. But you had to go through with it, didn't you? Why, because you love Aemond so much? Because you wanted to be with him? I am happy to know that you never will. You were stupid to think that you could ever marry him when you know the positions our families stand at. I don't know if you even care about your family when you were willing to marry your own enemy."

His fury is one that she had not ever seen directed at her and his words sting, just like he wants them to. Daemon has been a father to Alysanne ever since he had married her mother and he had never said anything so vile and hurtful to her. Her mother looks at him in a certain way that is silently trying to tell him to stop, to tone it down but he does not listen and keeps staring at her with anger that makes her furious in return.

"Yes, I know it was stupid, of course I knew! I knew what could happen, what the dangers were to wanting to marry him but believe it or not, at some point, I did love him. It was stupid and I let him love me and that was even stupider. But don't ever tell me that I do not care for this family, Daemon. Do not act as if that is true when you know it isn't."

"How would I know? You can not even outright say that you will kill him when you eventually face him and Vhagar with Cannibal! No, I do not believe you care for your family, Alysanne, not with the way you behave."

She sees her mother's mouth form words, something that looks like she's saying stop but it is too late for Alysanne is as angry and mad as anyone could ever be. She's hurt, she's sad, she's furious. In this moment, she feels like driving a sword through Daemon's chest.

"You liar! I have always cared for my family! Every single moment of my life, I have wanted to protect my family! Ever since Aemond lost his eye at Driftmark I have known and understood the consequences of the separation between our families. Why do you think I wanted a dragon the moment we got back? Why do you think I spent two years trying to claim and bond to dragons? Why do you think that, out of all the wild dragons, I claimed Cannibal? Because I knew none of the other ones stood a chance against Vhagar! Why do you think I have been obsessed with learning how to fight with a sword? Why do you think I always worry about where my brothers and sisters are? Because I have been preparing for this war since I was a child! I have been scared of it, of what would happen to my family and about what would happen to Aemond, yes, I worried over him because I love him. But don't ever tell me that I do not care for my family when I know deep down in my heart that I would kill Aemond the moment I get my hands on him. Don't ever make assumptions and accusations like that ever again, Daemon."

Alysanne is screaming at him in fury and her hands are shaking from how angry she feels. She starts crying at some point too but she does not care and later on realizes that confessing all her insecurities and worries to her family is an awful thing. Her grip on the table makes her feel like it will break apart soon and she feels like she will break apart in a similar way. She knows her brothers are staring at her in shock next to her, her mother looks at her with concern and her father remains unreadable. Before anything else can be said, she storms away from the painted table and out of the room, furiously wiping her tears away as if they were poison to her.

She hears her mother calling after her but no one follows her which she deems as good. It's good, she should be alone. She loves to be alone. She needs to be alone. She does not want to be alone.

Anger and sadness rage inside her in a tandem and she keeps having to stop herself from throwing a punch at the wall just so she would be rid of this agonizing feeling. She hears a distant roar that echoes out, Cannibal feeling her emotions through the bond and most likely trying to pick a fight with one of the other dragons now. With this fury inside her and Cannibal, she thinks she could burn King's Landing down at this very moment.

She walks back to her chambers quickly to prevent herself from actually going to Cannibal's nest and take off with him. Once she is inside her room, she practices the calming breathing techniques that the Maestar had taught her. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in, hold, breathe out.

She feels like it works although she is never so sure because her rage never truly leaves her, only retreats and waits to come back in the worst possible times. She walks around in her room, closing her eyes and wills herself to be normal, be normal, be fucking normal.

She hears the door open behind her and it's Jace. She does not say anything as he comes closer to her and stops right in front of her, his face etched in concern and love. She wonders what he possibly could love about her. He closes the distance between them and takes her in his arms, holding her close and hugging her tightly like he used to when they were small. She hugs him back and wonders how long it has been since she hugged her own twin because her heart aches at how much she missed this. Her face is buried in his neck and she smells his scent on him, undeniably her twin. She wishes she would cry in his arms and tell him that she's sorry but she doesn't.

He breaks away from their hug and stares into her eyes. She wonders if he can see how broken she truly is, how incredibly awful and terrible she is at her core but she does not think of it, not now. Maybe in the dead of the night under the covers when she can cry herself to sleep. She takes Jacaerys's face into her hands and hopes to make him understand how she feels.

"Everything I have done... Claiming Cannibal, learning how to fight, closing myself off to anyone who is not my family... I have done this for mother and for her birthright because I knew that someday, we would go to war and have to fight for it and we have arrived at that day. But I want you to know that by extension, I do not only do this for mother but for you too. I believe in you, Jacaerys. Your reign over the Kingdom will be peaceful and good because you are a kind man and have learned all your life how to rule, unlike Aegon. I will breathe, live and die to put mother and you on the Iron Throne. I swear by this, nothing will ever change that, not even Aemond."

Alysanne sees his eyes gather with tears and she wonders if her brother knows that she would really do anything for him to have his birthright, which was promised to him all his life. His hands hold her wrists and his tears fall as if a waterfall had opened and she tries to control her emotions so she won't cry. He is taller than her but she goes up on her toes and plants a soft kiss on his forehead and wipes the tears from his face. She holds onto him so dearly, so tightly because she's scared of losing him, scared of what will happen during the war. People die so quickly and easily and her heart aches at the thought of having to lose a single person in her family... Mother, Father, Jace, Luke, Joffrey, Baela, Rhaena, Aegon, Viserys. Nothing can happen to them. Nothing, not ever.

"I will make sure you will sit on the throne after our mother, trust this, Jace. I will forever be by your side."

"I know you are worried about our families but please, set it aside for now. I just want to be with you and not worry about their stupid problems for once."

Alysanne continued to stare into the fireplace, hoping for an answer to her worries and fears. She basked in the closeness she was enjoying with Aemond, his arm around her and her head on his shoulder, leaning onto him. She played with the string of his shirt as she contemplated on anything and everything, whatever that was.

"The reason I worry is because they hate each other. I don't know how this will work out... But at least it is set in stone now. Only a few moons until we are to be married... It doesn't feel real."

His hand was so gentle as it went through her hair, so loving and caring, attributes that no one would ever think of Aemond. No one but Alysanne. She wondered if she was cursed for it in the end, if her love for Aemond would be ill-placed and she wanted to forget about it just now. She was in the arms of the man she loved, a man she maybe should not be marrying but she could worry about that later. She broke herself away from her cozy place only to sit on his lap, her legs on either side of his body and she looked at him with nothing but love. He looked down at where Alysanne was sitting on his thigh and looked back up again, the smallest smile on his lips.

Alysanne reached up and took the eyepatch off to reveal the beautiful blue sapphire that was in the place of his eye. She brushed over his scarred cheek and studied his hidden eye closely, Aemond was not phased by this in any way. He liked that Alysanne did not feel uncomfortable about seeing him without the eyepatch and his heart clenched once more at how carefully she was touching him. She was everything to him, his beautiful Alysanne, his perfect girl, the sun to his moon. He wished to have her in his arms forever like this. She studied the years old scar as if it would rip open and tell her all of Aemond's secrets and thoughts.

"Don't worry. I'll get back at your brother for this one day."

She glared at him but didn't say anything since he laughed right after and it made her heart skip. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and held one side of her face with his hand. He knew that many thought of her as a brute, cold woman but she was never like that to him, always so soft and gentle and he wished he could keep her right here forever, in his arms, until the world crashed and burned around them.

He knew it would not bother them. They would be happy together, for the rest of their days.

Alysanne hates it, she lets everyone know by making a show of protesting it. She tells her mother that it's foolish to send Jacaerys and Lucerys away to be messengers, that the ravens would be enough, that she could go to the Vale, Winterfell and Storm's End to deliver the messages on Cannibal. Her mother immediately renounces that idea, telling her that sending Cannibal and her would send the wrong message to these lords. She would remain at Dragonstone with her and father to continue plans and be present at the council.

The nervousness strikes her, her worry for her brothers immense and unrelenting. She stands by their dragons as they swear to not act as warriors on their journeys but as messengers. Alysanne knows they will be fine because they have to be. They have no other choice but to come back to her safe and sound.

They leave mother with one last hug and approach her now as they are about to fly off. She is clearly worried and nervous as they come closer and Jace is the first to hug her, holding her close just like last time. She closes her eyes at how familiar it feels to be held by him and presses him close. She leaves a small kiss on his cheek before they part and she holds onto his shoulders, wondering if she can keep him here if she holds on strongly enough. He sees the worry in his twin's eyes and squeezes her shoulder.

"I will come back, sister, do not worry."

Alysanne thinks he's foolish for telling her not to worry but lets him leap onto Vermax either way. She is then faced with Luke who looks up at her with wide, scared eyes from the nest of brown locks on his head. Alysanne's heart hurts at how small he looks and she wants to pick him up like she used to when they were younger and hide him in the castle, wrap him in a blanket and never let him see the horrors of the world. He is almost as tall as her and it frightens her that her younger brother is growing up so quickly. She never gave him permission for that. She cups his small face in her hands and wants to cry at how much more it dwarfs him, so small and yet so brave to fly to Storm's End all on his own.

"My little brother, I'll miss you but you'll be back in no time anyway. Either way, be careful. I wish I could go instead but maybe I can secretly follow after you on Cannibal."

Luke lets out a small laugh at that and smiles at her, his nervousness not so bad now. "I think mother would kill you if you did."

Alysanne smiles at that too and agrees. She ruffles his pretty locks and leans down to be closer to him and kisses his forehead as gently as ever. He had always loved when his elder sister was sweet to him, always felt safe and secure with her. Luke then turns to approach his dragon but comes running back just a few seconds later and hugs Alysanne tightly.

"Don't blame yourself for Aemond. It's alright for you to love him, you can't choose over it but please don't blame yourself, sister. I know what you have done for us and I'm happy that you're my sister and protect me from everything. I love you, Alysanne."

The princess is startled by his words but she smiles at them nonetheless, her heart bursting at how sweet her brother is. Her smart boy, her little Luke.

"I love you too, sweet boy. Don't worry about me, you make sure that you come back safely to me."

My dearest Alysanne,

it has been only a day since you left but I miss you so terribly already. I hope you arrive safely at Dragonstone and think of me as much as I think of you. Soon we will be wed and everyone will see that we are bound and meant to be together, in the eyes of god and men.

It almost pains me physically to not have you by my side now, to hold you close to me and to let you see me as I am. There is no one in the Seven Kingdoms that I have ever met that has made me feel like you do. There is no one in the Known World, living or dead, that will ever enthrall me like you. I could not explain it, can not tell you why I love you so much, just that I do. I am yours and you are mine until the end of our days. I wish to get on Vhagar and fly after you and Cannibal to Dragonstone just so I can be with you, hold your hands, your face, tell you that my heart desires no one but you and that you will forever have me trapped, that I chase you like the moon chases the sun, forever.

I hope to meet up at our spot soon. The little island will always be there and I will be there too, waiting for you.

I love you. Now and always.

Forever yours, Aemond

She hates him. Now and always.

She doesn't believe it when she's told, only shakes her head when her mother comes into her room, tears all over her face. She tells him that Lucerys had died, attacked by another dragon. Her mother is silent when Alysanne asks which dragon and who it was. Did it matter? She does not believe her anyway because it's not true. Lucerys is still alive, just on his way back from Storm's End.

She's completely still as her mother tells her that it was Vhagar who had attacked and killed him. She doesn't move, doesn't breathe, doesn't see anything but red. She did not believe it because who would hurt her Luke like this? Who? Her sweet little brother who was only a child, a little boy still so young and unaware of the horrors of war. But now she believes it because she sees the way her mother continues to sob and cry.

Alysanne believes it now.

I'll get back at your brother for this one day.

A loud dragon roar is heard outside, Cannibal is so loud that it almost deafens her. It must have been heard to King's Landing.

Good, she thinks. Let them hear the roar of a dragon.

She wants to throw the chair she leans on at the wall, wants to take her sword and break her bed with it, wants to scream and pull her hair and bash her head on the ground and punch herself and punch her fist at the wall until it breaks-

She feels arms envelop her and it's her mother that had been crying so bitterly at the loss of her son, holding her close, so close because she's scared of losing her. Alysanne's mind swallows her anger automatically with her mother so close in her vicinity. She can not be violent towards her mother, she would rather die. Maybe her mother senses that she's feeling awful and that she wants to hurt herself to make the pain go away and hugs her so she won't. Alysanne doesn't know. She holds onto her mother either way, like a child she wails in her arms and screams for him. She screams for Lucerys to come back, she doesn't understand why he's not coming and running to her at her distress, doesn't understand that the little brother she held in her arms and kissed on his forehead just hours ago was dead.

The Gods play tricks on her indeed.

Her mother leaves her alone a little while later at her request and Alysanne goes to Lucerys' room because maybe he'll be hiding somewhere, waiting for Alysanne to find him. She looks around the room and wonders how it can suddenly feel so empty, so void as if no one lived here anymore. She takes a few more steps into the room, looks at the strewn and messy books on his study table and remembers that she told him once to keep his mess organized. He never listened to her.

He'll never listen to her ever again.

Her eyes go over his bed and she spots a small plush toy that she knows all too well. She approaches the bed and takes it in her hands, almost feeling like it will dissolve when she picks it up. She had made it for him, years ago when she still had lessons with a septa, she learned how to make these small plush toys. When she was young, she had made one for each of her brothers and made them look like their dragons. She sits there with a toy version of Arrax and her heart hurts, screams, burns like a wildfire. Their bodies are gone, she realizes. Lucerys and Arrax are both lost somewhere in the sea. They can not even be burned.

Another loud, angry roar is heard from Cannibal. She's never heard him sound this angry.

She's never been this angry.

She puts the plush toy back and swiftly walks out of the room, her face stone cold as she marches to her room. All she takes is her sword and small dagger, nothing to protect her from the cold.

Good, she thinks. I shall feel what Lucerys felt when he died. Cold, scared and frightened.

She passes guards as she makes her way outside but they pay her no mind and pass by her quickly because they are scared of Cannibal's roars and know that he is only so loud because of her anger. Her dragon is already perched right outside of the gates. He looks as black and dreadful and menacing as ever, his roars still sounding all over Dragonstone. The guards that stand outside are terrified, not willing to get any closer to him but Alysanne does not care. She approaches him and climbs onto his back, the huge dragon is not at all phased by this.

As soon as she is in her saddle the dragon shouts out another menacing roar and takes off, not having to listen to his rider's orders. Alysanne believes he can read her mind and knows where to go without her having to say anything. She loves him for it.

It's a short flight to the island that they called theirs, somewhere in the middle in between King's Landing and Dragonstone. It was just large enough for Vhagar and Cannibal to reside on and for Aemond and Alysanne to have time for themselves when they could.

Yes, she thinks. We'll be by ourselves with no one to hear his or Vhagar's screams and roars.

She does not know for sure if he is there but behold the gods, he is. She spots the large dragon figure on the island and a figure of white long hair in black clothes sitting on the beach. His head is downcast when she comes closer but he does not raise his head even though Cannibal is more than loud. He lands her a safe distance away from Vhagar, the older dragon staying at her spot with her snout next to Aemond. Alysanne gets off of Cannibal and approaches Aemond who is crying into his hands. She doesn't concern herself with it, only pulls her sword out towards him and the sound of the metal finally makes him turn his head. He looks horrified at who's standing in front of him but Alysanne remains cold, stoic, hard. His tear streaked face and his tired, sorrowful expression do not hurt her.

He is frantic to come closer and she lets him but only until the tip of her sword touches his chest. He looks at her beggingly but she only shakes her head. He feels cold and awful at the empty eyes she's looking at him with and it seems to terrify him that she held no love for him in her eyes. Before he can say anything, she cuts him off.

"I thought about killing Aegon first, you know? An eye for an eye, a brother for a brother. That's what all this was about after all. But then I realized that you do not love Aegon nearly as much as I love Lucerys. In fact, if I killed him, you would be better off since the crown would fall to you, his children are still so little after all. Then I thought and thought about whose death would pain you as much as Luke's pains me... That's why I thought of killing myself in front of you."

Aemond looks horrified at her words and does not believe that this is really his Alysanne. He had never, ever felt any of the anger or animosity she held inside of her directed to him so this hurts him deeply, cuts his heart in half so painfully. He shakes his head at her word and falls on his knees, powerless and defeated by the murder he had done and by the hatred of the woman he loves.

"Please, Alysanne, I beg you, do not hurt yourself. Please, I'm sorry, I swear it was an accident. I lost control of Vhagar, I didn't mean to do it! I never wanted to kill him, I just wanted his eye! Please, you have to believe me, please, I will do anything for you, please don't hate me."

Aemond sobs and cries like she did earlier and it satisfies her to know that he is in pain. She does not think that he deserves to cry like this just because she wants to hurt him. She lost a brother, he only lost his love. Unfortunately however, she still loves him and a small part of her is in pain at seeing him so distraught and hysterical. She wants to hold him, comfort him, hug him...

And then she remembers that Luke is dead. And all those feelings are gone immediately.

"Don't worry, I won't kill myself. I still have a war to win, a mother to put on a throne, a birthright to restore for my brother. My family needs me and Cannibal so no, I can not give myself the pleasure of killing myself for your misery." Alysanne then smiles, a tiny smile but it is so scaring and horrifying that Aemond shivers from where he's looking up to her.

"But I'm happy that you mention Vhagar. I was going to kill her anyway for killing Luke and Arrax but now, I want you to watch her die. I want you to watch me take away the one only thing that has ever given you power in your life and want you to feel what it's like to lose everything."

Aemond only looks at her in disbelief and horror and watches as if he is trapped in his body as Alysanne commands for Cannibal to attack and kill. Vhagar is still lazily lying there, clearly exhausted from the turmoil of emotions her rider is feeling. Because of this, she is weak and her already old state makes her slow to move. It's almost funny that Cannibal is almost as old as her but so much quicker and more brutal. Even Aemond had once admitted that Cannibal was a better war dragon than Vhagar, simply because he was large but because of his long body, still quick to move. Besides, wild dragons are truly ruthless creatures, taking whatever they want and being used to much more brutally by themselves and without a rider.

Alysanne smiles as Cannibal bites the old dragon's tail and simply rips it off, tossing it on the beach next to him, never one to waste his food. Vhagar roars out but it's weak, lame and it takes a long time for her to move, so long that Cannibal is already bursting his massive fire at the old creature. The pain from the fire only makes it worse for the she-dragon and just as Vhagar is about to attack and spew fire of her own, Cannibal grips his teeth around her neck. They struggle back and forth for a few seconds and Alysanne sees the blood drip from Vhagar's neck. Eventually, Cannibal bites all around her neck completely and the dragon's head slices slowly to the ground, making a wet, disgusting sound as it lands on the sand. The huge body of the dragon sacks down in itself and Cannibal begins to feast on her carcass. He will have plenty of food for at least a week.

Alysanne turns back to Aemond who had just watched in horror this whole time, did not say a single word or command Vhagar to attack back. His mouth is open in shock and tears fall down his face as he watches Cannibal feast on his dragon. This is what it feels like, Alysanne thinks. You should feel even more.

Aemond turns back to her and his expression is unchanged, only shock and disbelief in his eyes. She only holds her sword up and points it at his chest once again. She doesn't know how stupid he is but clearly, he is very stupid because he makes no move to get away or attack her. She hardens the grip on her handle and holds the sword right where his heart is. She looks down on his chest and then back up again into his eye. She reaches forward and rips his eyepatch off in anger. Her expression is just as cold as before but her heart beats in fear now and she does not know if she can bring herself to slice it into his chest.

For him, she thinks. For Luke. Your little Luke who only ever wanted to be held by you and talk to you about his worries over ruling one day. Luke who only ever wanted to know that he was loved. Luke who did not wish to go, did not wish to fly into a trap to his own death.

Her inner demons make the decision for her and she pushes the sword in with all her strength and feels it go through his skin, his blood spilling out like a fountain. She doesn't stop pushing in until she feels the sword come out at the other end and only then does she rip it out. The blood flows out even more and Aemond doesn't scream at the pain, only holds his chest in shock and falls backwards on the sand onto his back. Alysanne throws her sword to the side and pulls out the dagger as she falls to her knees next to his body. He looks at her, has been looking at her this whole time and still does not say anything, does not attack her or tell her to stop. He has accepted his demise, so it seems.

His blood covered hand from his chest reaches up with all the strength he has left and he touches her cheek, so softly and gently. Alysanne is crying now and can not hold her emotions at bay anymore as she feels his warm, almost hot blood cover her cheek. He wipes away her tears and she drops the dagger that she had planned to take his eye out with as he cries too but strangely, there's a smile on his face. She leans down now and lies next to him, half her body on his as she continues to cry over her lost love. She puts one hand on his where it's holding his wound and smiles back at him. She feels happiness but sadness, sorrow and relief, darkness and light all at the same time. She sees how much harder it gets for him to breathe and the blood continues to come out of his chest, staining her dress but she doesn't care.

"Will you... come back here? Sometimes, just to remember me? When you have found... someone else you will love and be with and marry, will you still.. remember me?"

He talks slowly and his voice is almost at a whisper, taking breaths in between his words and Alysanne cries and cries and cries. She sobs for him and at what she had to do and asks why in hell he had to kill her brother but she nods all the same, can not let go of her first and only real love she ever had. Her heart feels just like Aemond's wound, bleeding and pierced with a sword and she leans her head on his, her tears falling on his face and mixing with his tears.

"No, I won't ever take anyone else. I can never love anyone like I love you, Aemond. I do not understand it... I despise you and I adore you. I hate you and I love you. I kill you and cry over you dying. What have you done with me, Aemond? What is this spell that you have put on me? I can never love someone again, never in my life. And I will think of you in every breath I take, with every turn of the sun, with every time I wake and go to sleep. You will never leave me, Aemond Targaryen. In death and in life. I love you, now and always."

Alysanne sobs and cries so bitterly, so painfully that she feels like she can not breathe from her sobs. She looks at Aemond and can see the life slowly leaving his eyes and she only holds on tighter to his hand on his chest, sobs and cries as if she had not done this to him. She reaches down and kisses him, one last time and wishes she had kissed him more in the past so she could remember what it really felt like. He looks at her with still so much love and smiles at her.

"I love you, Alysanne. Now and always."

She feels his hand on her cheek slowly slip away, the strength leaving his body and it pains and fills her with joy in a way that she does not understand. She only cries more as his hand falls down, his other hand turning motionless too. She sees the moment life leaves his eyes, that his soul departs from his body. Alysanne screams now and sobs and cries and can not stop her emotions from overflowing. She leans closer to him, her head on his chest right next to where his wound is and holds onto his hand with both of her hands as she lies there next to him. Her love was gone, forever perished by her hand and would never wake up again, tell her that he loved her, hold her so gently and speak of their wedding and how happy he would finally be to not be apart, to have her at his side at all times. He would never feel that happiness again, he would never feel his love for her again, he would never feel anything ever again. She sobs and cries next to his body for some time more, knowing that what she had done would haunt her for the rest of her life. It was terrible. Terrible but necessary.

Aemond Targaryen is dead.

Lucerys Velaryon is avenged.

When she comes flying back on Cannibal hours later her family is standing at the gates, seemingly worried for her. She sees her parents waiting for her and wonders if they will judge her for what she has done today.

Cannibal lands and Alysanne quickly gets off of the dragon. Her mother and father rush to her but stop when she sees that the blood she is covered in is not hers. She must look as insane as she feels, her white dress covered in blood at almost every part, her face and hands covered in it even more. She doesn't look at either of them as she gets off, too ashamed for how they would see her now. She gives Cannibal two pats and Aemond's body rolls out of his jaw with a horrifying splat and her dragon flies off to his nest, resting from the emotional and physically turmoil he had felt today. Rhaenyra and Daemon both look at him in shock and then at Alysanne. She only looks at Aemond, his eyes now closed but his body grotesquely bloodied all the same. Her mother steps closer and holds her by her shoulder, begging her to look up but she does not. She needs to remember Aemond's face, one last time before he's truly gone.

"What happened to Vhagar?" Her father questions, his shock now over but he still seems hesitant about how he feels. She looks up now and looks Daemon in the eyes, nothing but coldness in her eyes.

"Dead, lying on an island not far from here where I found her with him. Cannibal gave her a quick death and ate half her carcass already. He'll go back for more in the next few days until there's nothing left."

She now finally looks at her mother, who looks horrified at what she has done. She wonders if her own mother might not see her in the same light anymore but she brings the hand from her shoulder to her cheek and softly holds it there, uncaring about the blood.

"You did not have to do this, my little one." Her mother has tears in her eyes and she doesn't stop them from flowing out, in sadness over how her little girl had to go through so much pain just because of the man she loved. She looks at her mother and tries to soften her gaze. She does not know if it works or if she will ever be able to feel something again after what she has done.

"But I did. I loved him but I had to kill him at the same time. I could not let him live knowing what he had done to Luke. I just couldn't."

She looks away and back down at Aemond, his face so at peace now with his eye closed and almost a ghost of a smile on his lips. She stares at him for a few seconds, tries to memorize every detail about his beautiful face and feels herself crying again without sobbing this time. The tears just fall down her face without her wanting them to, just like everything else feels out of her control. She then bends down to him and leans his head in her direction, his body already growing cold and it pains her, burns her to feel that there was no more dragon blood in his body. She reaches her hand up to his face and softly cradles his cheeks and then takes the sapphire out of his eye socket. She does not look at him after that anymore, knowing he would not have wanted her to see him without it. She stands upright again and looks at the small blue sapphire in her hands, her last memory of him. She balls her hand into a fist around the sapphire and wishes she could just be at peace in her life, for once. She does not get peace, will never get it.

She walks past her parents and into the castle, the guards she passes looking at her in horror and shock. Now they see me as I am, she thinks. A monster.

She wants to start crying again when she remembers that Aemond had once said the same thing to her about himself. She wishes to hold him again, one last time just like on the beach, hold hands with him and tell him that she loved him and could never forget him. She wishes to hold him, to be with him but she does not wish for him to be alive again because it would then rip her apart to know that the man who had murdered her brother still lived. But she wished to turn back time for the rest of her life, lay in his arms again on the beach, kiss him and tell him that she will never forget about him. But she can not.

Aemond Targaryen is dead. Lucerys Velaryon is avenged.

Alysanne Velaryon brought justice for her brother and for her family. It was justice for the world and a small consolation prize for her pain of losing Luke.

An eye for an eye, she thinks. A life for a life.

Alysanne wishes justice for herself too. She wishes death for herself too.

#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon spoilers

610 notes · View notes