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#aemond targaryen x reader
ruefortherealm · 2 days
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The Way I Loved You
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➸ synopsis: he is your best friend, and yet, everything hurts when a certain Baratheon girl comes to your lives and Aemond starts neglecting you.
➸ word count: 7.95k (she’s long but worth it)
➸ warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, best friends to lovers, angst, love confession, inspired by Taylor Swift’s song, fingering, oral (F! Receiving), fluff, happy ending, Floris Baratheon, supportive Targtower family, mentions of Otto, Aemond is a bit of an ass at some point, creampie, nicknames (Sugar & Freckles). English isn’t my first language<3
➸ an: ohh so I don’t know if you remember or not, but this was one of the first posts on my blog! But anyway, I hope you enjoy it because I LOVE it especially when I turned the lyrics into my fave scene from this fic! Enjoy, reblog and tell me your opinion!
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“Aem, I can’t find you,”
You look around the airport, groaning when you can’t find him. The coffee in your hand is long forgotten as you search for him, sighing in defeat when you can’t spot his tall frame.
“I am outside, silly girl,” he says over the phone, chuckling when he hears your frustrated whine.
“Couldn’t you say it from the start? I have been looking for you forever!” You make your way to the exit, dropping your cold coffee in the trash on your way out.
“And miss on how you would curse me for wasting your coffee? Never, you know me better.” He replies, waiting for you to find him.
“I thought I was the teasing one, Mr. Targ, not the other way around.” 
“Call me Mr. Targ once more and I’ll leave you here,” he threatens playfully, “you know better than to mess with me, Sugar,”
“You won’t do such a thing,” 
You spot his significant white hair and his leather jacket instantly, smiling to yourself, heart hammering in your chest.
“How are you so sure?”
“Because you just love me too much, Aem,” 
He turns around at the sound of your voice, grinning when he sees you. He ends the call, opening his arms for you when you run towards him, picking you up and twirling you around as if you weigh nothing.
“Missed you, Aem, missed you so fucking much,” you say, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as he held you up by your thighs.
“Missed you too, sugar. Even Vhagar misses you,” 
“Targaryens and naming their vehicles,” you roll your eyes playfully when he puts you down, faking a pout, “be grateful that I only have a backpack with me and not a big ass luggage.”
“Oh, trust me, Vhagar can handle ten luggages.” He says, handing you a spare helmet, as he puts on his own, his gorgeous sapphire eye hidden behind his dark sunglasses.
“Have you taken any girls on motorbike rides while I was away?” You tease him, expecting him to laugh, but you can see the hesitation in his voice when he answers.
“You know me,” he clears his throat, helping you up on his motorcycle before he sits in front of you, “I can’t woo women, Sugar.”
“Oh, please, you have already wooed me! Don’t underestimate yourself!” 
He chuckles, putting his own helmet on before he starts the motor. You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your head on his back as he starts the ride to their house.
You truly have missed moments like this; so peaceful and comfortable. Aemond has that effect on his closest people, and you consider yourself lucky enough to be his best friend and experience that side of him that is always so open and kind.
It has only been two months since you left to spend time with your parents over the summer break, but even in those two months, you thought of him and updated him on your daily activities — even though Aemond hates using his phone, he always makes an exception for you.
The wind blows, and Aemond swishes between the cars, making you squeal and cling to him more. He laughs genuinely, slowing down a little when he goes up the hill that leads to the entrance of the Targaryen house — not a house, but a mansion that you have grown to love so much since your senior high school year.
The golden gates open, and Aemond rides towards the end of the path to his parking, not trusting anyone with his precious Vhagar.
“Home, sweet home,” he says, running his hand through his wild hair and helping you down from the bike.
“Sweet home indeed,” you say, “Gods, Aem, I don’t think I can move to my dorm after I stay here for a month,”
“Who says I’m letting you stay in those shitty uni rooms? I know King’s Landing’s dormitory is the best in Westeros but no way in hell I would let you go there,” he replies, leading you to the entrance of the house.
“Aem, I can’t stay here! I am a guest, sure, not complaining at all, but I will be studying for two years, and I can’t under any circumstances stay here with your family,” 
A girl opens the door, greeting you before she grabs your bag and tells the two of you that the rest of the family members are in the great hall.
“I will not argue with you to kill the mood, Sugar, but we will have this conversation later.” he looks at you taking off his sunglasses, “Come, they’re waiting for us,”
“I look like shit, Aem,” you groan, smoothing your t-shirt in hopes of looking presentable enough.
“Sugar, you look perfect,” he pats your head and chuckles when you slap his hand away.
“I know Alicent and Hel are wearing something too elegant for a simple lunch and I am here with a gray tee and baggy jeans.” 
“Stop worrying, they have seen you in a much worse situation,” he smirks, pushing the door to the hall open before you have the chance to say something back.
You stop dead in your tracks when you look inside the hall; Daeron is chasing Aegon around, Alicent is sitting behind a desk, concentrating on the task in hand, and Heleana is busy with her needlework in another world — typical Saturday in the Targaryen household.
“Give back my phone, you piece of shit—” “Uh huh, lil bro, not a chance until I see who you are texting—”
“I am so going to murder you—”
Aegon sees you and runs behind you and Aemond, sticking his tongue out for Daeron.
“My dear sister-in-law will save me from the beast,” Aegon says dramatically, waving with Daeron’s phone in his hand.
“Hello to you too, asshole,” you flick his forehead, “And I am not your–”
“Daeron, you little fucker, are you texting Joanna Lannister?” He barks out a laugh, catching Aemond’s attention if he hasn’t had it already with the whole sister-in-law thing, “She is a piece of art. Good job, bro!”
You and Aemond glance at each other before you look at the youngest Targaryen, grinning ear to ear while Aemond smirks.
“Fuck you–”
“Boys, stop,” Alicent says sternly, glaring at the Targaryen men before her expression softens when she sees you, “I wanted to say behave in front of our guest, but you are no longer just our guest, darling,”
“Oh, I missed you so much, Alicent,” 
She pulls you in for a hug, embracing you as if she hasn’t seen you for ages.
“Me too, sweetling,” she says, rubbing your back gently, “I have to call your parents and adopt you myself,”
“She’d already be our sister, Mother,” Aegon says, gesturing at Aemond, who raises a suggestive eyebrow at him, “If only this duty-always-comes-first son of yours hurries the fuck up.”
“Ok, that’s enough, give me back my phone, and let’s have lunch,” Daeron interrupts, snatching his phone from his brother before he drags him to the dining room.
“Good idea,” Aemond says, clearing his throat as he looks around to find Helaena, “Go, Mother, I’ll bring the girls,”
“Just be careful, it’s one of those days again,” Alicent says and leaves.
“We’ve got her,” He replies as he walks to where his sister is sitting, unbothered by her surroundings as she hums to herself.
“Sister,” Aemond calls her gently, standing a few feet away to not scare her.
“Yes?” She doesn’t look up, but you can see the tension fading away from her shoulders.
“Sugar is here,” 
With that, she looks up, smiling broadly when she spots you.
“Hi!” She says, waving at you without standing up from the floor.
“Hey beautiful,” you say, waving back, “wanna have lunch with us?”
“Yes, I would love to,”
“Do you want me to help you?” Aemond asks, stepping forward to help her up but she shakes her head, a little frown on her face as she stands up by herself, maintaining a distance so she wouldn’t touch any of you, her needlework forgotten on the floor.
“Can you go ahead of me?” she fidgets with her fingers, looking at you in anticipation.
“Of course, come on, Sugar,”
He extends his hand, and you take it before you walk out of the room. You wrap your arms around him, and he does the same, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.
“It’s great to have you back,” he breaks the silence, glancing at Heleana who walks behind you slowly.
“I love you, Aemond,”
“I love you, too, Sugar,”
If only the two of you knew how things would change in a month.
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You fell into a busy routine around the Targaryen household in a few days. Every day was a challenge itself with the boys, but the fun was endless. Especially since Aemond had tried to steal you away from Aegon and Daeron after they had forced you to tell them more about uni girls — not Daeron though, he only asked about Joanna.
You would watch TV shows at 2 in the morning with Aemond in his room, read a book with him, and plan the rest of the summer together.
Everything is easy with him — from telling your opinions freely to giving him a show of your newest clothes which his mother has purchased. He is everything; a good listener, a great partner in crime, a wonderful person, and the most perfect best friend someone can ever ask for.
And that’s what makes it harder for you to keep your facade up around him. He knows when you lie when you feel uncomfortable, or overthink every single interaction you had throughout the day, and he does whatever he can to keep you calm and happy.
Aemond is always on your mind, whether you are on a date, comparing the person next to you to your best friend, or when you are in classes, even when you are next to him, your mind wanders around him.
And now that he is diving into the pool with his long hair in a low braid, you are losing it. 
You have always found him handsome, despite the scar on his cheek, you never felt anything but love and affection for him, even though he was a complete jerk to you at first, you never despised him for his eye.
You sit at the edge of the pool, applying sunscreen on yourself as you watch him swim in your direction. He stops in front of you, resting his chin on your thigh, looking up at you.
“Y’know, Sugar, why don’t you come with me to the party tonight?” He asks, his large palm caressing the softness of your hip.
“Because it’s a business party, and I am not so keen on meeting Jason Lannister again,” you roll your eyes at him when he chuckles.
“I won’t leave you alone,”
“You promise the same thing every year, and you still leave me alone with all the champagne in the bar.” 
You push a few wet strands of his white hair out of his face as he looks at you with that heart-melting gaze that has you wrapped around his fingers.
“No,”
“Please? Pinkie promise,” he holds his finger in front of you, “I will even take you to our spot after that,”
“Damn you and your charm, Freckles,”
“Call me that again, and I change my mind,” he smirks when you swat his arm.
“You won’t dare,”
“Try me, Sugar—“
“Will you two stop flirting, and fuck each other finally?” Aegon groans, putting his sunglasses on before he sits on one of the lounges with his cocktail, “or if you don’t perhaps I can shoot my shot with her, huh? What do you say, Sugar?”
“I say you should shut the fuck up,” you reply, caressing Aemond’s head gently while he rests his head on your lap, his arms wrapping around your torso.
“Why? At least I can show you a good time,” Aegon pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose, winking at you. Luckily, you are used to his behavior.
“Hey, look at me, Aem,” you grab his face when you feel him tense under your touch, “He is Aegon, he literally tells every moving thing to get in bed with him. This is not my first time.”
“I know,” he drops his forehead on your thigh, “he does it to get under my skin,”
“And you let him,” you sigh, splashing some water on his face, “anyway, what should I wear tonight?”
He scrunches his nose, tickling you in revenge, “I’m sure Mother has something for you ready in your room by now,” 
“Alright, Aem, but I will not ride on Vhagar with a long dress,”  You squeal when he pulls you down into the water, keeping his fingers on your side as he tickles you.
“Don’t worry, Sug, Baratheons will send us a Limo,”
“A Limo?” You grab his hands to stop him.
“Holy fuck, I need to come with you two—“ Aegon says hurriedly, looking at his brother in disbelief.
“Your father owns the biggest company, you live in the most expensive mansion in Westeros, and you drive Sunfyre, but you still get excited over a Limo?” Aemond shakes his head, sighing in defeat.
“Aemond, I can drink and have sex while someone else is driving. That is all I ever want,”
“I won’t let you fuck up tonight,” Aemond warns him, pointing his finger at Aegon who whines like a child.
“I mean if he doesn’t fuck while we’re in Limo with him, I can tolerate his company,” you say, shrugging your shoulders when Aemond glares at you.
“And what am I doing there exactly?”
“Sealing the deal, like you always do,” Aegon leans back on the lounge, looking at you two from the rim of his glasses, “your girl should stay entertained while you go play the hard-to-get man.”
“That’s exactly why I loathe taking you to these events,”
“Aem, I keep an eye on him, besides, I won’t be left alone,” you try to reason with him, but you only get a disapproving sigh in return.
“You won’t be alone, I promised to keep you by my side,”
“And yet, you have to talk to those noblemen for the good of the company. I can keep him on a leash, trust me,” you turn around to look at Aegon, “ain’t the right, Egg?”
“Gods, you and your stupid nicknames,” He laughs, nodding in response, “but yeah, anything for you, my lady.”
What a night you have ahead of yourself…
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The dress you see when you walk into your room after lunch with the Targaryen family is nothing short but phenomenal — a sapphire blue satin dress that reaches the floor with a slit up the left leg. Not only the dress, but you find diamond earrings as well on your vanity.
Alicent always chooses your outfits for these events, not because she is the controlling type of woman, but because she genuinely enjoys fashion and you can never thank her enough for all the great and beautiful dresses she has bought you.
You look beautiful as you look at yourself in the height-length mirror; the fabric of the dress feels smooth on your skin, and it hugs your curves so beautifully. You put your hair up in a bun with two strands left framing your face, and you smile brightly when Heleana looks at you, beaming at how elegant you look.
“Do you think he’ll like it, Hel?”
“He’ll love it,” she replies softly, stroking your hand.
The door is pushed open by Aemond after two knocks, and lord does he take your breath away with his looks — his platinum hair is down, his tall frame is shaped by the black tuxedo he is wearing and his sapphire tie that matches your dress is resting around his neck.
Heleana can feel his brother’s heart beating faster when he looks at you, sizing you up with his violet eye, a small smile plastering on his thin lips.
He has to remind himself that he can not drag you to his room and kiss your breath away, because with the way you look at him — so in awe as if he is the most handsome man in all Westeros — he has to keep his thoughts pure, or he won’t survive the consequences of his actions.
“Phenomenal,” he whispers, nodding in gratitude when Heleana leaves the two of you alone.
“What is?” You ask, taking a step towards him.
“You are,” he caresses your neck with the back of his hand, turning you around as he stands behind you, “I brought you something, Sugar.”
He holds the velvet box in front of you, and you thank him before you open it, gasping at the sapphire necklace inside. It matches his eye, and you can’t form a word as you look at how it shines under the lights of your room.
“You shouldn’t have,”
“Yeah, because this is nothing compared to what you truly deserve,” he replies, catching the necklace from you while he rests it gently on your neck before he clasps it.
“You are the most perfect best friend I could have ever asked for,”
Your heart aches when you say it, but you can not risk to lose him — he is the source of your happiness, your one and only, your partner in crime, your best friend. So why does it hurt so much when you say it aloud? You love him, you truly do, but perhaps that’s the problem. 
“Ready to leave, love birds?” Aegon pokes his head out from the door, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of you.
“Yeah, lemme grab my purse and we’re good to go.” You say, ignoring Aegon’s suggestive remark.
Aemond offers you his arm, smiling at you as he leads you out of the room behind his brother. The limousine is waiting outside, and you and Aegon grin at each other when you see it.
“After you, my lady,”
Aegon bows, opening the door for you, smirking at you when you punch his arm playfully. Aemond follows you into the car, his lips twitching upward when he sees how you are looking around the car.
“Brother, I will come to every single event you attend just to see their cars,” Aegon says, hands already reaching for the bottle of bourbon.
“Don’t get too drunk and make a mockery out of us,” Aemond hisses at him, his hand resting on your thigh to calm himself.
Physical touch was something so out of the question back in the first few months of your friendship, but soon you realized all he needed was a solace, a hug, and a gentle hand running through his hair when he was nervous.
You were fortunate enough that he found that solace in you.
Throughout the ride towards the destination, the three of you had a shot to loosen up a bit, and you were glad that Aemond calmed down a little until you made it to the location of the party.
When you arrive, Aegon is the first to burst through the car door and stands aside for the flashing cameras to focus on you and Aemond.
Aemond steps outside, extending his hand for you to take as he helps you out of the car. You are flustered at how he keeps looking at you, as if his world orbits around you as if you are the air to his lungs, and it fills you with a new sense of giddiness when you are the center of his attention.
“Shall we?” He asks, offering his arm to you.
“Of course,” you link your arm with him, walking ahead of Aegon to the main entrance of the building while the cameras flash and take pictures for the press.
Everything looks so extraordinary, and that is what Baratheons are most famous for. Even though you are used to being on such occasions with Targaryens, you still feel a little out of place, but with Aemond by your side, nothing can cause you a sour feeling. 
Or at least you think.
As soon as you step into the hall, you are met by none other than Borros Baratheon himself. He greets the boys and nods your way, not paying you any attention as he is completely focused on Aemond, whisking him away from you at the first second he can.
Aemond glances at you, mouthing his apologies as he is carried away by Borros, leaving you and Aegon to help yourselves with champagne and the delicious snacks near the bar.
Soon, Aegon breaks apart from you and finds himself in the company of another woman, who will undoubtedly take him to her place tonight. 
You take another glass of champagne, looking about the room. Most people are engaged in talking business, some are trying to have a great time, and someone like Aemond is being introduced to one of the most beautiful girls you have laid your eyes on.
Aegon and his companion appear next to you, watching the scene as Aemond presses a kiss upon the girl’s knuckles, earning a bashful smile from her.
“Who’s that?”
“Jealous much?” Aegon teases you, but shuts up as soon as he sees your expression, “that is Borros Baratheon’s youngest daughter, Floris.”
“I haven’t seen any of his other daughters around,” Aegon murmurs quietly to the girl next to him.
“I haven’t either,” she replies, watching as Aemond shakes Borros’ hand and offers his arm to Floris, much like he did to you.
He takes her to the dance floor, putting his hand on her waist as they sway with each other, and you watch them, even though you know you should turn your back to them and enjoy your night, all you can focus on is how Aemond smiles at her, how she giggles when he says something — how he treats her like you.
“Sugar, don’t look at ‘em, alright? He is doing this for business—“
“Aegon, I don’t care. I am his best friend, not his girlfriend,” you whisper, exhaling as you watch them come in your direction.
“Sugar,” Aemond says, putting a hand on your shoulder, “this is Floris Baratheon, Floris, this is Y/N, my friend.”
“Oh, hi,” she looks you up and down, a smirk on her face when she shakes your hand.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” you rush the words out of your mouth, already uncomfortable by her judging stare. 
You are beyond thankful when Aegon jumps in and introduces himself, taking the edge off your shoulders for a few seconds.
“I was telling her about your major in university,” Aemond says, his hand still on Floris’ waist.
“Oh,” 
“Yes, he talks highly of you,” she says, looking up at Aemond who is only focused on you right now.
“He is a great friend,” you smile at the pair, fingers tightening around your glass as you take a sip from it.
“A great friend indeed—“
“Can I have a moment with Sugar, please?” 
You are beyond thankful when Aegon comes to your rescue, grabbing your hand and taking you away from them. You sigh in relief when the fresh air hits your heated body, dropping your head on Aegon’s shoulder as you stand outside.
“I wanna leave, Egg,”
“Why don’t you talk to him, Sugar? Stop denying—“
“I am not denying anything,” you raise your voice a little, straightening your back to look into his eyes, “he’s my friend and he seems happy! That is what’s important to me; his happiness. I will not act selfishly because of something that only I want.”
“He is happier with you—“
“I’m not having this conversation right now. I wanna leave, I’ll see you in the house,” you press a quick kiss to his cheek before you walk towards the exit.
You know he is not yours to feel jealous, he is just a friend as he told Floris, but the pain in your heart when he smiled at her — one of those smiles that he only showed you when he would talk about something he truly loved — you knew you had to go.
“Sugar, wait—“
You stop in your tracks when a rough hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him. 
“Are you alright? Why-why are you leaving?” Aemond asks, caressing your cheek as you brace your hands on his chest.
“I don’t feel well, Aem,” you pay his chest with one hand, smiling as best as you can, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, “I think I’m a bit dehydrated,”
“I can go and grab you—“
“No, no, no, Aem, listen, I have a terrible headache as well. All I need is sleep, OK? I’ll meet you in the house, go and have fun.”
“I promised not to leave you alone,”
“And we both knew you had to break it because this is business, not a frat party, Aem. Go, I’ll see you later. Love you,”
“Love you too, Sug,”
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From that night, everything has changed — Aemond was always in the company’s building, or out on business meetings, or he was too tired to spend time with you, not only that but he told you a few times that he was going out with Floris Baratheon.
You try to be happy for him, you truly do, but when he stands up mid-conversation to answer her phone call and leaves you without any more explanation than ‘I’m heading out for dinner, don’t wait for me’ without glancing at you, you can’t help but think how easily he is setting you aside.
The month you had planned the first day you arrived is passing and you only did manage to spend a few hours with him before he vanished from your sight.
It has been two days since he has answered your calls and texts, and you are going mad. You have no idea where he is, or who he is with, but more than being angry with him, you are worried about him.
It’s half past midnight and the movie you are watching with Daeron and his girlfriend can’t catch your attention enough to stay with them. So you leave the hall and go upstairs to find Aegon and Hel to spend some time with them while no one is on your mind except your best friend.
You are about to walk past Alicent’s office when you hear his voice from the speaker of her phone. Morally, you know it's wrong to eavesdrop but you have been concerned about him for so long that you need to know if he’s alright.
“Mother, I can’t go against grandsire’s words—“
“You can, and you will, Aemond,” you hear Alicent yell at him over the phone, “you have done enough for this company! I will not allow you to destroy the only thing that has kept you sane!”
“I can’t risk not having the deal—“
“So you are willing to risk your happiness? Is that what you are saying? Because Aemond, I swear to the Seven if you don’t make this right…”
“There is nothing to make right! I can’t ever make her happy, I can’t give her what she wants—“ 
Alicent cuts him off again, “Listen to me, you are making her happy, and she has been—“
“Mother, I love her,”
Your heart drops, eyes watering slightly as you listen to them. He is in love, and all you can imagine is him and Floris — every single moment you spend here in the mansion, thinking of him if he has eaten, if he is alright, he is spending time with Floris.
“That’s why I want you to make the right choice,” Alicent says softly.
You can no longer stand and listen to them, you walk past the room, wiping your tears as another sob rocks your body.
“Psst, Sugar,”
You turn around, eyes red and puffy when you see Heleana and Aegon sitting in the corner of the hallway.
“Why are you crying—“
“He loves you,” 
Heleana cuts Aegon off, her violet eyes shining under the moonlight. You always knew Heleana was different, she caught up on everything before others could even see the possibility, and she could read through people’s minds.
“I thought that much was obvious,” Aegon says, looking at you with confusion.
“What?” You ask, shaking your head at them.
“Fuck me,” he sighs, throwing his head back, “you two are idiots! Even dumber than me.”
“Aegon, what the fuck are you talking about?” You throw your hands up in defeat, sighing when he just shakes his head.
“Aemond loves you,” Heleana whispers, resting her head on Aegon’s shoulder.
“Yeah, as a friend who is neglecting her—“
“As his sun and moon,” she interrupts you, looking outside the window as the rain starts pouring down, “you are not his friend, you are the only person who has his heart in the palm of your hand.”
“I heard him say he loves Floris,”
“Did you hear her name?” Aegon asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
“No,”
“Then stop acting like brats! Have you seen how he looks at you, Sugar? He wants to breathe you because you are the only person who is keeping him sane. He wants nothing more than to let you tend to his eye because he is too proud to let anyone near him! He wants you! Fuck Floris, fuck Otto, fuck them all! Do you even know why he has been avoiding you? Because he is too much of a coward to look at you and go on a forced date with Floris. He is falling apart because his heart yearns for you, but Otto has put a leash on it.”
Your lips quiver, tears streaming down your face as you look at the Targaryen twins. Heleana is smiling, and Aegon is furious of you and his brother.
“He bought a house a few months ago,” Aegon searches the pocket of his sweatpants, grabbing his Lamborghini’s remote before he throws it at you.
“He didn’t tell me,” you catch the remote, fiddling with it, unsure of what to do with it.
“No one knows except me, Hel, & Daeron. He needed a place to clear his mind of you, because you’re the only thought that lingers in his head, he needs to find somewhere where he can be alone,” Aegon rests his head on Helaena’s before he continues, “Now, go get your man. I’ll send you the location.”
“Thank you, Egg,” you whisper, wiping your tears with the sleeves of your shirt.
“Go now, before he sleeps. And for my sake, please drive slowly with Sunfyre, my baby is delicate when she goes out in the rain.”
“You Targaryens and naming your vehicles,” you smile a little, waving goodbye to the pair as you rush down the stairs.
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Aemond’s house was located on the other side of the town, on top of the hills and near the woods. It took you an hour to drive there, but that gave you enough time to make up your mind.
You slow down your speed when you see the house, trying your hardest to keep yourself from sobbing as you look at your surroundings; everything screams Aemond, from the location to the look of the house — it looks like home.
You park the golden Lamborghini, turning off the engine before you step out. The lights are still on, and you know Aemond will not sleep until three in the morning when he is anxious — perhaps his call with Alicent has left him hesitant.
The rain pours on you, and you debate whether you should knock or just leave. For a second, you turn around to go back to the car, but Aegon’s words keep playing in your head; He wants you.
“Aemond!” 
You yell out his name, pushing your wet hair out of your face as you stand in the middle of the road.
“Aemond, please!”
You cry, sniffing as you wait for him to show you a sign that he is willing to listen, to hear you for once and the last time. 
You see his shadow reaching the window on the top floor, pushing the curtains away as he looks at you in shock and disbelief. You watch him shut the curtains and move away from the window.
The rain pours heavily on you, the sound of the water droplets falling on the car behind you and the wind blowing is the only thing that can cover your sobbing — a weather that resembles your feelings at the end of summer.
You are ready to turn around and drive back home when he doesn’t show up, but as you hear the sound of the door unlocking, you turn around to find Aemond in a black Tee and gray sweatpants with his hair in a bun.
If you weren’t already so in love with him, you would be by now.
“Sugar, what are you doing here?”
“Just-just listen, alright?” You start, holding your hand to stop him from reaching you when he walks towards you, “I always believed that the right person for me would come, that I would feel some type of magical attraction, that I would feel as though heart will give out and that-that I’d suffocate without him, but I had no idea that I have had him by my side all this time.”
You continued, “These past few days I have realized who that person is; Aem, I burn for you, my soul longs to be molded with yours, my heart breaks to pieces when you are not close to me, and the only thing I want is to be loved by you.”
You step closer to him, staring at him; a few strands of his hair have fallen out of the bun, his shirt is soaked and you can see his cheeks are covered in little droplets whether it’s from the rain or he has been crying as well.
The only thought that crosses your mind is how wholesome he looks.
“Until you tell me to leave, I will be here by your side, every single fucking second! I will love you forever and always, until I stop breathing for you, and even then, when I’m six feet under, I will still yearn for you, Freckles. ‘Till then, my heart beats for you, fast and raw, and I’ll let you steal it every goddamn time because I can’t imagine my life without you — without our messed up baking and you calling me Sugar, or how I pointed out your freckles on your neck, or-or how we would sneak out of your stupid family parties with Hel and Egg and go to karaoke even we didn’t like it but we did it for Hel.”
You grab his hand in yours, pressing little kisses all over the rough skin, loving how delicate your hand looks next to his larger one.
“I found my love in my best friend, and if I was given a choice, I would choose you without hesitation over and over, because that’s the way I loved you, Aem, and I still do,” you take a deep breath, staring into his eye, “I have nothing new to present to you, maybe Floris or any other girl can. This is what I can give you; my undying and unconditional love. Tell me you are happy with her, and I’ll leave, Aem. Whatever you want…”
He stays silent, and for the first time, you can’t read his emotions, and it wrecks your whole body as he keeps quiet. This is it then, you think as you let go of his hand, nodding before you turn around to go back to the car.
Suddenly, he wraps his fingers around your arm, yanking you back into his embrace, crashing his lips to yours, kissing you with a force you have never seen before.
He tastes like coffee and rain; it’s the most comforting flavor you want to taste for the rest of your life. He cups your cheek while his hand rests on your waist, keeping you flushed against him. His lips chase yours, and you whimper in his mouth as he sucks the breath out of you.
Finally, you think, he is right where he belongs.
He pulls away after a hot minute losing himself on your lips, looking down at your swollen lips, his sapphire glistening under the lights of the thunder and water drops.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, caressing your cheek lovingly.
“I said a whole fucking speech here, and you tell me I am beautiful?” You grin up at him, pecking his jaw as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“You are hauntingly beautiful. So breathtaking to the point that even the most talented artists wouldn’t do your beauty justice if they try to recreate it,” he ignores your teasing, his eye carving the image of your angelic face in his head, “Even the most beautiful flowers in Highgarden are not as mesmerizing as you are.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm,” he hums, kissing your forehead.
“Perhaps you should start writing poems for me.”
“Would you like that?” He asks, lacing his fingers with yours, leading you towards the house.
“Yes, very much so. Maybe you could read them to me when we are sitting in front of the pond in your garden,”
“The only thing I want to do to you is kiss you, you shall read those poems all by yourself,” he replies, pushing the door further open before he hands you a towel he has brought down when he sees you standing outside.
You look down and see a puddle of water surrounding you as you both are soaking wet from the pouring rain outside.
“I’m sorry—“
“You have nothing to be sorry about, Sug. C’mon, let me give you some clothes,” he takes his shoes off, and you do the same. He grabs your hand, pulling you upstairs to his room.
You don’t have enough time to look around the house, but when you step inside his room, the first thing you see is a framed picture of the two of you on the desk in front of his window — you had gone to Winterfell that year for Christmas together, and you forced him to take that picture with you.
“Here,” he hands you a fresh pair of boxers and one of his t-shirts, “you can take a shower if you like.”
“No, I’m too tired for that. Thank you for the clothes,”
“Anything for you, Sugar.” He winks at you, turning his back to you so he can change. 
You open the bathroom door, grinning like an idiot as you look at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like a mess, but you never felt more beautiful than you do now. 
You are hauntingly beautiful, his words repeat in your head.
You walk out of the bathroom, your words stuck in your throat as you look at Aemond’s exposed back — he is lean and ripped with muscles, and you can see his muscles flex as he puts on his shirt.
“I can get used to this,” you mumble, arms wrapping around his torso from behind.
He chuckles, putting his palm on yours, smiling to himself as he feels you pressing gentle kisses all over his back.
“You will get used to this, Sugar.”
He turns around, holding you close as he gazes at you with pure adoration.
“You are tired,” he announces, pulling you with him on the mattress without any care that both of your hairs are drenched.
You lay your head on his forearm, pecking the side of his face as he looms over you halfway, his free hand playing with your fingers.
He dips down, brushing his lips over yours slowly, but you are far tempted to go at his pace. You kiss him back fiercely, earning a surprised groan from him as he reciprocates. He lets go of your hand, running the pads of his fingers over your exposed thighs while you fumble with the fabric of his shirt, trying to push it off him.
He breaks the kiss to take his clothes off, and you do the same, lying naked beneath him. Your eyes travel over his tall figure, hands caressing the skin of his chest as he takes you in.
“Am I in heaven?” He asks breathlessly, his lips trailing kisses from your cheek down to your collarbone.
You giggle as he comes up again, pulling your lips back to his, leaving a kiss on them.
“No, you are with me,”
“That’s even better, Sugar,”
He beams at you, giving you another lingering kiss before he starts licking and sucking on your skin, relishing the little whines you let out.
His hands knead your breasts, his gaze solely on you as he goes lower and lower until he reaches where he needs the most — where you need him the most.
He covers the skin of your thighs with bites as he inches closer to your core, his fingers threaded with you and he finally gives your throbbing clit a kiss. 
“Mm, I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers, lips wrapping around the bundle of nerves as he dives inside your heat, groaning while he tastes you.
“Fuck, you better…” you manage to rush the words out of your mouth as he works wonders between your legs.
His pace is slow, but he knows what he’s doing, bringing you closer to the edge with every flicker of his tongue over your clit while one of his fingers circles your wet entrance. He hums as he pushes a finger inside you, almost going wild as he hears your encouraging moans. 
The lewd sound of him slurping and enjoying giving you pleasure is too much for you, and when he adds a second finger, you lose yourself in him, gasping and shaking as you squeeze his free hand, hips pushing against his face while he curves his fingers inside you.
“Give it to me, beautiful, let go f’me,” 
He knows what he is doing to you when he latches his lips to your clit, sucking and licking the nerves like a starved man while his fingers massage that sweet spot inside you. Your legs shake around his head as you come, eyes rolling to the back of your head. He drinks you up gladly, pressing his nose more into your cunt to give you his best.
“Aem, s-stop, it’s too much,” you pull him up by the wet messy bun he has, detaching him from you so you can have a rest.
“You taste fucking sweet,” he whispers against your lips, bending down to let you taste yourself on him. He holds himself up by his elbow, and the other one holds the fat of your hips in a tight grip, digging his nails into the flesh — you can see how his patience is running thin.
“Aem,” you pull back a bit, cupping his face into your trembling hands, “love me, please, make me forget that I almost lost you.”
“Anything that my girl wants, anything for you,” he murmurs, hissing out your name when you reach between your bodies to stroke his hard cock, “I’m going make you forget, Sugar, I will conquer the world and bend it to your will.”
“I don’t need the world when I already have everything I ever wanted with you,” you reply, lining him up with your entrance, both of you moaning in union when he slowly pushes himself in.
“Fuck, Sugar—“ he groans as he pulls his hips back a little, thrusting back into you. He allows you to get adjusted to his size, caging your body under him as he gazes down at you, taking in your blissed-out expression.
“Please, Aem, please move…” you moan out, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as he starts to thrust himself in you lazily. But when you look so gorgeous with your lips parted and pupils dilated… how can he not fuck you right there?
He speeds up, his balls slapping against the fat of your ass as he hammers himself inside you at a fast pace, drawing moan after moan from your gorgeous mouth.
He curses at the wonderful feeling of being enveloped by you, almost growling when you scratch his back when he reaches deep inside you.
Aemond looks at you, memorizing the shade of your lips, the number of your eyelashes, the curve of your nose, even how your teeth sink into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip — he doesn’t think he has ever felt this urge to protect and love someone more than he does now.
You tighten your legs around him, throwing your head back when his thumb reaches down to rub the hood of your clit, his cock throbbing inside of you with a deep desire to fill you.
“Sugar, if you don’t stop—“
“Please, come with me. Aem, need you so bad,” you cry out as the white-hot pleasure rushes through your body. Your walls clamp around his girth tightly, keeping him inside you snuggly as his thrusts become sloppier than before.
“Give it to me,” you whisper, nibbling on his jaw before he buries his face into your neck, pushing himself as deep as he can go in you.
“I’m gonna come in you, Sugar. ‘M gonna claim what has always been mine,” he says in your ear, groaning your name as he shoots his cum, coating your walls in his hot white release.
“Fuck, I love you, I love you, I fucking love you—“
You hold him close when he shudders, prepping his face with kisses and praising him for how good he is to you, and how handsome and lovely he is.
“Thank you,” he says, pulling you in for a deep kiss.
“For what, Aem?”
“For putting me out of my misery,”
 The sunlight is shining on your face through the curtains, waking you up slowly. You reach for him, trying to cuddle him back to sleep, but you are met with an empty bed. Dread fills your guts as you push the covers off of your naked body, reaching out to put on some clothes before you run down and search for him.
As soon as you walk down the stairs with the clothes he gave you last night, you see him hunching over the countertop, talking to his mother.
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He is wearing his riding clothes; a leather jacket and black jeans with his hair in a low ponytail. You spot the grocery bags next to the fridge, grinning to yourself when you realize he went shopping for you.
He turns around instantly when he hears your low padding approaching him, pulling you in his arms when you reach him.
“Good morning, love,”
You beam at him, hugging him back tightly, never wanting to let him go.
“Oh, is Sugar there?” Alicent asks over the phone, surprised and silently cheering with Aegon and Heleana as they all listen to the two of you talk.
“Yes, do you want to talk to her, Mother?”
“No, let the poor girl have some privacy. Have you talked to my father yet?”
“I do not want to talk about grandsire right now, Mother. All I need is a peaceful breakfast with my girlfriend. And tell Aegon thank you, Sunfyre is alive and breathing.” Aemond says, kissing the crown of your head as you look at him in shock.
Girlfriend, you thought, and at last, he is mine.
539 notes · View notes
neptuneiris · 3 days
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could you pretend to be in love? (07/10)
To Dragonstone / Lovers
pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)
summary: the trip to Dragonstone arrives and things between you and Aemond may remain distant or may take a big turn. you are sure of your feelings but does he feel the same way?
word count: 8.4k
previous part • series masterlist
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hello!
even i'm surprised that i updated and it didn't take me two or almost three weeks, but here it is!
i'm so happy for the recognition the story is getting, truly, thank you so much beautiful people, i hope you like this chapter a lot too. i'm looking forward to your comments!
After what happened… there was a total change of behavior between you and Aemond.
Even that same day after he didn't drop you off at your house because you told him that Alysanne would be the one to drive you, that night he texted you that there was a party at one of his friend's house.
You didn't reply right away, you just watched the message appear on the top of your screen silently and did nothing.
And after a few minutes he texted you again telling you that if you didn't want to go with him, he was fine with it. And you just texted him back a short; have fun!
But still, you couldn't help but feel completely different, with this strange feeling and a knot in your stomach at having this distance with him.
But he didn't text you again for anything else.
Even also on that same day you saw Helaena, who told you again how sorry she and her mother were still. You also saw Aegon, but he just kept walking, acting completely unconcerned and as if the dinner had never happened.
And now, with things weird and distant with Aemond, today is the trip to Dragonstone.
You assume that you and Aemond will continue to pretend, since there was never a definitive statement where both he and you said you would no longer pretend. But since that night he told you about the party, he and you haven't spoken again.
There's really no plan for the trip. You don't even know if he and you will do this together, as a couple. You just don't know anything.
But you recognize that the two of you made a contract that includes the Dragonstone trip and also ending the fake relationship until graduation. So you prepare yourself despite the circumstances.
Besides you won't be alone, as Alysanne has also signed up for the trip, who just now is keeping you updated on all the things going on in her life as you both drag your respective suitcases along.
"But I don't know if I should say yes to him yet."
You let out a sigh, already feeling tired as you feel the weight of everything in your suitcase. But you can't really blame yourself because it's an all-weekend trip to the beach, so you should have brought everything you needed.
"To who?" you ask with the breath you're gathering, as you tighten your grip on your suitcase.
"Didn't you hear everything I said?" she inquires, "To Cregan."
"Ah… and why don't you know?"
"Well, you know…" she gives you a knowing look, "I don't know, he seems too perfect to me and there must be something wrong with him," she raises her index finger at you, "And he's too popular for my liking."
You frown, still walking as she does, heading toward the buses in the school parking lot that will take you all to Kings Landing port.
"Wait," you say confused, "So he already asked you out?" you look at her slightly surprised, struggling to keep up.
"Yeah," she says casually, "But I don't know."
"Oh come on," you look at her serious, "He's very nice, handsome, funny and a gentleman."
But she grimaces, showing her skepticism.
"Not exactly my type."
You roll your eyes, amused.
Then you both stop behind a line of people waiting to board one of the buses while one of the teachers notes on a list the students' attendance by asking for first and last name, so you have to wait.
"I think you should go out with him," you say, turning to look at her.
"Uhh…" she stares into the void, thoughtfully and doubtfully, "I don't know, bestie."
"He's a good match," you try to convince her, encouraged, "Besides he's already completely crazy about you."
"That's the problem," she sentences, "I'm not looking for a serious relationship right now. It seems better to me that we both just go out, have fun together and nothing else, no strings attached."
"He probably won't refuse the idea," you shrug, "But tell him and don't leave him waiting with his hopes high."
She snorts, gesturing with her hand.
"He's a man. I'm sure he can handle me never giving him an answer."
You let out a laugh.
"Don't be mean, Alysanne."
"What?" she looks at you innocently.
"Come on, you can do better than that."
"No, I don't think so."
You both let out a laugh now and are about to say something else to him, when a third voice interrupts you in conversation.
"Y/N?"
The two turn their heads and walking towards you, it's Aemond, with a somewhat unsure and nervous posture, which is totally unusual for him, but he's still watching you completely attentively.
He's wearing a white t-shirt and a black jacket over it, which makes him look ridiculously good for a common outfit. But what also catches your attention is how he has a silver chain sticking out from around his neck.
And God… why are you suddenly so nervous about being in front of him?
"Do you have a minute?"
You look uncertainly at him and then at Alysanne, having no idea what to say, further increasing your nerves.
"Hum—
"Go," Alysanne says to you, "I'll wait in line for both of us."
"Oh… all right."
You reply, smiling a little in her direction, only to walk over to Aemond and both of you step back a little so you can talk more privately.
And it's at that moment that your heart starts beating like crazy and you bite your lips, crossing your arms over your chest, nervous and a little… embarrassed.
"Listen," he starts to say, in a low and soft voice, "I just want to say that I'm really sorry for the way I reacted the other day," he tells you sincerely, "I'm sure I made you feel uncomfortable and to some extent trapped but believe me that was never my intention. Nor was it my intention for things to get weird between us."
"Yeah, yeah, I understand, don't worry," you nod, trying to hide your nerves and trying to look unconcerned, you too wanting to put this behind you, "I'm sorry too for trying to end it all that way."
"No, it's not okay," he assures you, "I just didn't understand anything and got frustrated," he admits to you gently, "And that wasn't right of me. Now I know how overwhelmed you must have felt with everything that happened."
"I-I guess I got scared and that was the easiest way I could think of to end it all when that wasn't right on my part either. After all… we have a contract—
"The contract thing doesn't matter," he interrupts you with a nonchalant gesture, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, "The important thing is that we're both okay and that we don't distance ourselves from each other."
You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of relief at hearing his words.
"Yeah, you're right."
"So… everything good?" he asks you completely attentively.
"Yes, all good," you assure, wanting to put any misunderstandings behind you.
He is about to say something when one of his friends calls out to him from the line to board the bus.
"Aemond!"
You both turn your heads and his friend along with the teacher in charge watch him intently from the bus doors.
"I need to see your signed permission form, son," the teacher tells him.
He nods and goes back to watching you.
"I'll see you inside," he says before walking away towards his friend and you nod.
You walk back with Alysanne to the line and watch Aemond just a few feet in front of you, talking to the professor, and then he and his friend carry their bags up to the bottom compartments of the bus, eventually moving up the line.
And God… this is the sense of relief you so desperately needed to finally feel. Knowing that you're going to do this with Aemond, all about Dragonstone, relieves and excites you.
However, you should have assumed that even then things would get weird, because the feeling doesn't last long when you see Floris approach Aemond and the two of them start talking.
At first you don't think anything of it, but then, you see the way Floris approaches and behaves towards him.
A tingle of jealousy begins to bubble deep in your stomach as you watch the two of them talk. You also watch as some students watch the two of them and then you, standing apart, with curious and mischievous looks, surely waiting for the drama.
It's as if everyone knows what Aemond and Floris once were, only to then watch you, the new girlfriend, fade into the background after Floris has returned to school.
And Aemond's behavior towards you comes back to your mind.
He himself told you that he did not expect to see her again, so on another plane and in other circumstances, if Floris had not left the school, you are absolutely sure that Aemond would have required her help, totally.
And this between him and you would never have happened.
And maybe… Aemond is still interested in Floris, just as she seems to be still interested in him. But he can't do anything about it because he already has an agreement with you, he's stuck with you.
This relationship is fake, remember?
Your mind tells you, since for Aemond it's not real, but rather pure convenience, just an act, but for you… it's getting harder and harder to ignore the feelings that arise inside you.
Is it possible that your feelings are more real than you have allowed yourself to believe?
You watch as Aemond seems to want to subtly pull away from her to have his own space, but Floris moves closer again, as if they both share something that only the two of them know and that's why she has the confidence, even though he has a girlfriend, to act that way with him.
Which only makes you more annoyed and jealous.
But finally the line starts to move forward and you decide you won't give it any more thought. What's the point of worrying about something that, in theory, isn't real?
You board the bus behind Alysanne, where everything inside is full of excitement and energy, with students talking and laughing as they settle into their seats.
Then your gaze almost instantly meets Aemond's as you look at the seats, sitting in one of the first seats with the seat next to him empty, watching you intently and with a small smile on his lips, clearly waiting for you.
The temptation to go sit next to him is strong, but you decide to ignore it and keep walking behind Alysanne, passing him. And that instantly makes him react.
"Hey, hey," he quickly stands up and gently takes you by the arm, watching you with his soft gaze reflecting bewilderment, "Where are you going?"
Your nerves dissipate and you try to come up with a good excuse.
"Hum… you know, to sit with Alysanne," you point to your friend.
He follows your gaze but frowns, confused.
"But don't you think we should sit together?"
You stay silent for a few seconds, watching him intently and nervous, trying to come up with a better excuse. But he speaks again, trying to convince you.
"I packed snacks for both of us on the way and thought maybe we could watch a movie or something."
"Maybe on the way back," you say with an apologetic look, feeling the weight of his gaze on you.
And he frowns slightly, his gaze reflecting a mixture of disappointment and confusion as he tries to understand your behavior.
The two of you a few moments ago spoke, the two of you apologized to each other and you especially said that everything was okay or not? That's what keeps him confused, not understanding why the two of you are suddenly continuing this distancing, noticing your efforts to pull away from him.
"Come on," he insists, "Let Cregan sit with her."
"I'm sorry, Aemond," you say, "But I promised her I'd sit with her."
He seems to want to argue back, but you waste no more time and finally walk past him, moving away from him straight toward Alysanne in one of the seats almost at the back.
Aemond with a serious look sighs resignedly, feeling the disappointment inside, confused and with disillusion, not really understanding anything.
And when you arrive together with Alysanne, just as you take your seat, you look back to where Aemond is with a worried look and at that moment Floris appears, stopping in front of him with a small sweet smile on her lips.
"Will someone sit here?" she asks politely even though she already knows the answer, her tone with a familiarity that makes you stir in your seat.
Aemond turns his gaze back to you with a mixed expression of seriousness and disappointment before answering Floris.
"No," he replies with some annoyance, dropping back into his seat with a droopy attitude.
Floris complacently takes a seat next to him and you watch everything from afar, telling yourself that this is all a bad idea, with a swirl of emotions all over you.
So all the way to King's Landing port begins, where you distract yourself listening to music and avoid looking towards the seats where Aemond is with Floris.
At all times you feel this uncertainty and this unpleasant feeling that does not leave you in peace, even makes you feel sad, but Alysanne by your side manages to distract you in some moments.
Until you finally arrive at the port and in organized groups, the teachers make sure that all the students board the ferry that goes directly to Dragonstone.
Everyone around you starts taking pictures and videos of the wonderful view the ferry offers of Blackwater Bay, excited to get to Dragonstone.
And you start looking for Aemond with your eyes, finding him leaning on the ferry's railing with one of his friends next to him, both talking, but he has a more thoughtful expression as he gazes out at the ocean.
Despite being surrounded by people and his friends especially, he is distant. And you know he's like this because of you.
For one reason he asked to talk to you and clear up what happened between the two of you. You assured him that everything was fine and then pushed him away.
But can you really blame yourself?
You're fucking scared.
And for a reason Floris acts that way with him, because whatever there once was between the two of them, it's not over yet, you can feel it. And you have no right to reproach him for that because this is not real.
Still… it's better for you to start slowly pulling away from him and put on a show when it's really necessary. But how will you be able to do this together when things are like this?
That's why the uncomfortable feeling on the bus persists and Alysanne tries to distract you by taking pictures of the view, a selfie of the two of you together or by herself.
But despite these efforts, you can't stop thinking about Aemond and watching him from time to time.
Until the ferry finally docks at Dragonstone Island and the students begin to walk ashore with their suitcases in hand, full of excitement and high expectations for what awaits them this year on site.
And since you have never visited Dragonstone before, you watch in complete awe and amazement as the majestic and imposing modern castle stands before you almost on the water's edge.
It looks like a living museum, offering the relics of Old Valyria and its history, paying homage to the ancient house Valyria, a royal family that once ruled Westeros with the legend of having tamed dragons in their Reign.
The entire castle is made of stone, as well as its surroundings and all it has to offer.
And once inside, everything is majestically structured and spacious, with architecture of royalty, preserving that touch and the one that many decades ago a royal and powerful family lived here.
With a male guide, who is also chaperon of this 'excursion', he welcomes all the students and begins to guide them through the main corridors of the castle.
You are amazed to see the numerous display cases with ancient swords that had forged the history of the Valyrian house, as well as other possessions, be they wardrobes or jewelry of gold, silver and other precious stones.
There are also portraits of the ancient Kings and Queens who had ruled, as well as portraits of princes and princesses with the name, date of birth and date of death.
Being your first time in this place, it is obvious that you are excited compared to other students who have come here before and just want to have fun.
But you sense how the atmosphere is steeped in history and mystery. So you can't wait to learn more about this history that was in an ancient and legendary world.
"For those who don't already know, there are various activities you can do during your stay on the island," says the guide man, "You can enjoy the beach and swim in our crystal clear waters, but you can also dive with professional instructors to explore the coral reefs and marine life, as well as we also offer surfing lessons for beginners."
"I want to try surfing," Alysanne says next to you, without both of them letting up, and you watch her in surprise.
"Really?"
"I don't plan to dive, I feel like I'll go crazy with claustrophobia with so much suit and gear on me, not to mention you can't talk," she tells you with a grimace, "And swimming is so boring. I want something more exciting."
"And you can handle that?"
"Please, I can handle anything," she says with a certain superiority, making you laugh, "And what do you plan to do? Obviously not surf but then what?"
"Hum…" you think about it for a moment, "I don't know, maybe I'll visit the huge library and learn more about the history of this place and the whole Valyrian family."
Alysanne looks at you completely expectantly and showing you how much your answers have bored her.
"Are you serious?"
"We also offer a tour of our small aquarium located in the depths of the castle, where you can see a variety of fish and sea creatures," he man goes on to mention, "And lastly, we offer rides on our yachts and scooters along the coast, there are also paddle boarding lessons along our peaceful canals that meander through the island."
You look back at Alysanne beside you.
"Or maybe I'll join the paddling classes," you say with a shrug.
But that only makes Alysanne look at you like you're a hopeless case, sigh, and continue moving on, not telling you any more about your plans or she's afraid it will make you feel bad.
And you let out a little laugh, since of course you also want to enjoy the beach and also want a yacht ride.
And as all the students continue to move forward and you along with them, you still feel the tension between you and Aemond, who is moving a few meters ahead of you with his friends.
Despite the beauty and excitement of Dragonstone, still this uneasiness continues to weigh on your being.
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First night at Dragonstone and you've already been left alone.
Alysanne stated that she wanted to enjoy the luxurious bathtub in the room to immerse herself in a relaxing spa experience, so that's what she's doing now before starting the rough activities tomorrow.
And meanwhile you're stealing snacks from the huge kitchen since you've prepared one night of movies for yourself, which isn't a bad plan.
So with your pajamas on, you go back to the room, thankful that you didn't have any awkward encounters with anyone. In fact you were hoping to run into him, but that hasn't happened and you have no idea where he must be.
So with your snacks in hand and in the huge hallway where your room is located, you struggle a bit to open your door with your hands full, when someone enters the same hallway where you are.
"Hey Y/N."
You turn your head and meet Cregan, causing you to place a smile on your face in his direction.
"Hey Cregan."
He watches you with a small amused smile.
"Do you need help?"
"Well, I-I…" you try one more time, but everything is about to fall out of your hands, "Yeah," you finally agree.
He helps you with your snacks and also opens the door for you, then watches you curiously.
"Are you preparing one night of snacks and probably watching movies with Alysanne?"
"No," you reply laughing softly, "No, I—
"Ah, so you're going with Aemond to the hot tub," he interrupts you in a casual tone, assuming.
Confused by that revelation, you try to process the information, but before you can even pretend and react, which you really don't and remain silent like a fool, he notices and looks at you slightly confused.
"Oh, well... on my way here saw him alone in the hot tub and thought you were going with him."
And just then it happens.
Something snaps inside you.
An overwhelming sense of need overwhelms you from head to toe, you can't help it and you can't take it anymore.
You need to talk to someone about the truth and release everything you've been accumulating these past few days. But you know that if you do that, you would be breaking a contract rule.
But the thought of still holding all this in and not being able to talk to anyone about what's really going on is unbearable.
Alysanne would freak out and you have no one else to talk to. It's not like you have a lot of friends. So thinking hard, you quickly map out a plan in your mind and decide to confide in Cregan.
"Do you have a moment?" you ask with a lump in your throat.
Cregan gets confused and looks hesitant.
"Well, I—
"Alysanne is relaxing in the tub, she won't be out of there for a while and I really need to talk to someone about this," you plead.
And that's enough for Cregan to walk into the room behind you as he sees your face like you're about to explode and you tell him everything.
And God, it's a complete relief to be able to speak freely, without the pressure of keeping up the farce.
And you start by explaining to him why you decided to fake a relationship, and then tell him these feelings that you can't ignore anymore, as well as explaining everything you're feeling about Floris and how things are between you and Aemond.
And by this point, Cregan is very comfortable sitting on your bed, eating from your snacks while you wander around your room talking freely about everything that comes to your mind and he listens attentively.
"I'm completely crazy, aren't I?"
You watch him completely frustrated and looking for support, as the ideas and thoughts keep coming uncontrollably into your mind.
"I mean, this is fake," you clarify, waving your hands as you speak, "This wasn't supposed to happen, he just asked me for help and I asked for something in return to accept. And he clearly doesn't feel the same way I do."
You look at him in exasperation, worried.
"And I know I acted wrong with him this morning on the bus but—" you sigh, "You should have seen how he reacted when he saw Floris at school again. This whole thing with Aemond probably wouldn't have happened if Floris hadn't left school, it's obvious there's still something between the two of them and that makes me feel… so upset and so jealous when I shouldn't!" you exclaim frustrated, "And I find it best to just stay away from him so I can stop feeling all this and my big mouth won't even think of telling him how I really feel."
"Y/N—
"I'm right, right?" you don't let him speak, watching him completely intently and worriedly, "I'm crazy."
Cregan smiles softly in your direction in an attempt to comfort you and shakes his head, as he takes another bite of a chocolate bread.
"No, not at all," he replies sincerely, "You're just being honest with yourself and me."
You stop in front of him, fiddling nervously with the fingers of your hands.
"I had to blurt it out," you say dejectedly, "I'm so confused. And you have to promise not to tell anyone," you tell him instantly.
"I promise," he tells you instantly too, nodding.
"So what do you think?"
He lets out a long breath before answering, watching you calmly and quietly, preparing in his mind what he will tell you next, while you wait desperately and anxiously.
"Listen, I think it doesn't matter that the two of you have been pretending all this time, but Aemond likes you, a lot."
He assures you and your heart leaps, parting your lips and watching him completely intently.
"I've seen the way he stares at you—
"Have you already forgotten that all this time we've been pretending?" you interrupt him in exasperation.
"And you think you can fake a look of love if he's not really in love?" he asks you, expectantly.
You let out a sigh, bringing a hand to your forehead, massaging your temples.
"That doesn't matter, I feel he still has feelings for Floris and I'm just another fool who fell in love with Aemond Targaryen," you look at him hopelessly, "And if you think about it, it's embarrassing."
"Okay, let's analyze the facts," he says confidently, incorporating himself better on the bed, "The fake relationship was his idea, you set most of the important rules and you're the one who wants to end the relationship, but you're here locked in your room preparing a movie night for yourself alone while he's waiting for you in the hot tub," he tells you condescendingly while pointing at the door with his thumb.
You watch him completely attentively, almost hesitant and unsure, thinking about it.
"And if you think about it precisely, yes, Aemond and Floris had something but it was nothing serious, he later went back to Alys and now that he erased Alys from his life, there is you and no one else," he explains to you, "Floris' return means nothing because he could have told you that it was better to end the fake relationship when he saw her again, but he didn't tell you anything, it was you," he assures you, "And yes, maybe you fell in love first, but eventually he also fell in love with you and harder."
Cregan's every word hits you like a wave of revelation, making you rethink your perceptions and doubts.
Maybe, in the midst of all this confusion, conflict and your doubts, Cregan is right.
Maybe Aemond really is in love with you, despite the fake relationship, Alys and Floris… maybe he is and the thought is as overwhelming as it is comforting.
If so… then what will happen?
You don't know but wanting to find out excites and scares you at the same time.
"Do you think he's waiting for me in the hot tub?" is the only question you can utter out of the thousands in your mind, watching him hopefully.
"Of course," he gives you an obvious look.
So you waste no time.
You leave on your pajamas of silk shorts with a tank top of the same fabric and throw a coat on over them. It's not really cold but the air here on the island is frosty enough for you.
And as you step outside a part of the castle where the hot tub is located, with your heartbeat echoing in your ears, you are greeted by a cool, salty breeze that caresses your skin.
The hot tub area is illuminated by a series of lights hanging from the ends of the trees, creating a calm and relaxing atmosphere. But what stands out the most is the blue light of the hot tub.
And there you see him.
You focus on the lone figure of Aemond as you move forward, who has his back to you, gazing off into the horizon, thoughtful while also distracted by the bubbles the hot tub is making around him.
You pause for a moment, watching him from a distance, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness fluttering in your chest.
The silver chain around his neck shines with a soft glow from the blue light, adding a touch of mystery to his profile, just as his white skin glows slightly from the glint of water on his skin.
The sound of the hot tub echoes in place, as well as the ocean waves outside and with nerves blocking your mind, you finally approach him, with quiet determination.
"Mind if I join you?"
You say to him with some insecurity and in a soft tone, hugging yourself, nervous and attentive.
Aemond turns his head towards you and his eye meets yours.
And if his gaze reflected surprise, he quickly turns back to an unexpressive face and without saying absolutely nothing to you, where you also tried to smile a little at him, he turns his gaze back to the front.
And you don't let it get to you, at least not yet.
"What? Now you're going to ignore me?"
And thankfully that's enough to make him talk to you. At least a little bit.
"Oh now I'm the one ignoring you?" he retorts bitterly, without even looking at you, "That's funny."
And he continues to turn his back on you, without saying anything else, to which you let out a long breath and without giving up yet, thinking about what Cregan told you and also considering your feelings, you approach him.
With hesitant steps, you climb the steps leading to the entrance of the hot tub and approach the edge, feeling the warmth of the water and the gentle steam rising in the air.
Feeling Aemond's gaze on you, you take a seat on the edge and dip your feet into the water as you return his gaze, which makes your heart pound in your chest again.
He is completely beautiful.
And the words don't come out of your mouth as you are hypnotized for a moment watching the flashes of light on his serene face with his flawless skin and those features that make him look so handsome.
But you finally focus.
"Well, I'm sorry this is my first trip here and I have no idea how to do the activities when you didn't even offer to guide me," you foolishly try to justify yourself.
"Oh and now I'm supposed to guide you after you ignored me on the bus?" he inquires.
You feel the blood rise to your cheeks and look away for a moment, embarrassed.
"Well, I thought I should do you a favor," you admit sheepishly, not really knowing what to say.
And you just had to say that?
Your mind reproaches you.
"Favor?" he repeats in confusion, "What favor?"
"It's obvious Floris is still interested in you," you explain, "And you and she had a thing in the past so was it better for her to sit down with you or not?"
Fucking fool.
Your mind keeps reproaching you, but you don't know why you had to say that either!
And you know it was really bad as Aemond makes a gesture of exasperation on his face and shakes his head as he averts his gaze from you and stretches out both arms to the edge of the hot tub.
"You know?" he starts to say in a frustration-laden tone of voice, watching you "For being such a good student… you can be really dumb sometimes."
You frown, bewildered by his words.
"What?"
"I wanted to sit with you, Y/N," he tells you in exasperation, wanting to make you understand, "Not with Floris or anyone else, just you," he says, his tone softening as he looks at you intently.
Oh.
Yes, oh.
Now you feel stupid and of course you should feel exactly that way.
And as Aemond's words echo in your mind, you feel a mixture of emotions inside you.
On the one hand, a sense of relief and joy finds its way into your chest as you hear his sincere words and know that he wanted to be with you. But you are also overcome with a slight embarrassment at your initial lack of understanding.
And because of the same nerves and how stupid you still feel, a soft laugh escapes your lips at his confession.
"So, Floris…
You let the words float in the air, as you watch him with that insecurity in your gaze.
"Floris was just a one time thing in the past. She doesn't interest me anymore," he assures you gently and firmly, completely honest.
You both remain silent for a moment, only hearing the bubbling of the hot tub, where you mostly admire how the blue light reflects all over his body and face, looking so fucking good.
Not to mention he has no shirt on.
You can feel the electricity in the air as he watches you with his face softer compared to a few moments ago, there's also almost adoration and hope, all just the same way you're watching him.
Then you break the silence.
"I'm sorry I didn't sit with you on the bus," you say sincerely.
And he makes a nonchalant gesture with his hand.
"It's all right."
And once again, silence envelops you as you both sink into the intimate and complicit atmosphere that surrounds you.
Then once everything has been 'cleared up' somehow, you sit up and take off your coat, to begin soaking in the hot tub along with him, causing him to watch you attentively and in confusion.
"You're going in your sleeping clothes?" he asks in a doubtful tone.
"I didn't bring a swimsuit," you reply, stopping in front of him and allowing yourself to enjoy the shared quiet and intimacy along with the warmth of the water.
You watch as his gaze sweeps over your body, mostly focused on watching the way the water envelops you in just the same way he does and you don't stop, as you position yourself right in front of him, your face inches from his.
And already starting to feel a little embarrassed by his burning gaze on you, you say the first thing that comes to mind.
"You know, I've never seen you without that chain," you say, feeling your knees bump against his thighs.
He smiles slowly, showing off his perfect aligned white teeth, marking each cheek with his beautiful dimples, having a knowing glint in his eye that is reflected as he inspects your face.
"It's part of me," he replies, in a soft, deep, husky voice than usual that sends shivers down your spine, "But I think I might make an exception tonight."
And before you can fully comprehend his words, you feel Aemond's hand on your thigh from under the water, sending a surge of electricity through your body.
Surprised, he makes you sit on his lap, while his other hand rests on your waist, drawing you to him gently but with remarkable determination, surprising you and making you feel instantly nervous.
You place your hands on his shoulders, seeking stability, as you watch him with your parted lips, seeing that the space between the two of you no longer exists.
The intensity of his gaze and the softness of his face take your breath away for an instant, reminding you why you are drawn to him in the first place. And a mix of emotions overwhelm you as you realize how much you've been longing for this moment.
Then you both shorten the little distance that separates you and finally you feel the sweet contact.
With no one around, no one else's eyes on you, just the two of you alone here, you kiss.
A slow and deep kiss, where you feel Aemond's lips soft and warm against yours, making you let yourself go and move closer to him if possible, taking one of your hands to caress his cheek.
And his body responds to your caresses, pulling you closer towards him as if he can't get enough, settling better into his lap and tilting his head to the side, deepening the kiss, where his hands run down your back, causing his touch to cause electric currents through your body.
Then you both pull away a little with a wet sound from their lips and you watch him directly into his eye, unable to believe this is actually happening, where Aemond breathes through his mouth and brings one of his hands up to your cheek, watching you intently and with that lazy smile.
"What?
With a small smile on your lips, you shake your head.
"Nothing," you reply in a soft tone and that makes him smile a little more, starting to trace your cheek with his fingers and your face with his gaze.
"You don't know what you're doing to me, love," he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse, "The way you make me feel… it's indescribable."
His words wash over you like a comforting warm wave, spreading throughout your chest and causing a sensation to settle in your lower abdomen.
His hand on your thigh slides all over your skin, producing shivers as he pulls you even closer and your whole body trembles slightly from the intensity in his desire as he shortens the distance again and his lips seek yours with a hunger that matches what you are feeling.
And in that moment there is no doubt or hesitation, only the overwhelming certainty of the connection that exists between the two of you. And just like him, you let your actions speak for you and everything you are feeling right now.
You deepen the kiss, as you lose yourself in the intoxicating rhythm of his kisses and your fingers gently glide over the skin of his face and run along the contours of his jaw.
"This wasn't in the contract," you murmur against his lips, agitated.
"No, it wasn't," he tells you just as agitated as you are, catching your lips with his again.
Then your other hand comes down on his bare chest, tracing his muscles and feeling the heat of his skin against yours, sending an electric shock that ignites a burning, fierce fire throughout his body.
Aemond moans against your lips and brings one of his hands to the back of your neck, tilting his head and holding you exactly where he wants you, while his other hand travels between the skin of your thighs and your lower back.
Then you decide to move on top of him and his breath hitches as he feels your movement and you too feel a tingle in your crotch.
Both he and you can feel the tension grow between the two of you and suddenly it is as if the world has vanished, existing only him and you with this moment of pure connection and desire.
And with each caress, you feel yourself falling more and more under the spell, lost in the intoxicating, indulgent pleasure you begin to experience. And with his heart beginning to pound, his caresses become more daring and urgent.
You too move with more purpose on top of him, beginning to feel a bulge grow just below your nerve center that caresses him and makes you feel so good.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks against your lips.
"Please don't," you sentence, kissing him again.
You gasp against his lips and you both begin to gasp, feeling Aemond's chest rise and fall every instant, just like yours. And with the warm, comforting water enveloping you both it only makes it feel better.
You run your hands through his hair, pulling it away from his forehead to lean into him and continue kissing him as you continue to roll your hips on top of him, when he pulls away from you and begins to leave a trail of wet kisses from your cheek and down to your neck.
All your skin bristles and you let your head fall back, giving him more accessibility.
"Fuck," he murmurs hoarsely into the side of your neck.
And you lean into him again, kissing him, wanting to feel the caress of his lips on top of yours.
But then when the need and desire begins to build to a pace where Aemond thinks he won't be able to stop afterward, he decides to stop right there, pulling away from your lips and making you stop moving.
"Wait," he says to you in a low, husky tone, breathing through his mouth.
You look at him slightly confused, just as agitated as he is.
"What's wrong?" you say with your heart pounding in your chest as you take a deep breath.
He tries to catch his breath, closing his eye and resting his forehead against yours, still holding you above him.
"We can't," he says with some frustration.
You force yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to feel confusion and uncertainty invade you, watching him intently.
"Why not?" you ask in a whisper, still leaning into him.
He lets out a long breath through his nostrils, clearly fighting against the hardness beneath his shorts and keeping you on top of him in a way where you don't touch him or he'll go completely insane.
But his silence only makes you worry and think things that really aren't.
"Or is it that you don't want to do it with me?" you ask fearfully and with embarrassment starting to creep up on you.
"What?" he quickly looks at you, "No, no, that's not what I mean, of course I want to do it with you," he answers you quickly and completely honest, "But we can't do it here."
He points his gaze around you, to again look only at you with that intensity, revealing a mixture of his desires and his inner conflicts.
Oh.
A sense of relief washes over you as you realize it's not rejection, but concern for the circumstances.
"Ah… right," you say with a mixture of embarrassment and relief, also briefly glancing around you, "Sorry, I hadn't thought of that."
Aemond looks at you tenderly, his gaze softening with a mixture of desire, vulnerability, and what you think is love reflecting in its depths, then pulling your face towards him again.
"It's okay, we'll find another time," he assures you, his tone comforting.
You smile softly as you place your hands on both of his cheeks and he kisses you deeply again, causing you to melt into his arms and let yourself be completely carried away.
You feel embarrassed by your misunderstanding, but also grateful for his concern and consideration.
And you don't know exactly how long you both lasted inside the hot tub, just kissing and nothing more, occasionally playing with the bubbles, sharing an intimate and special moment together.
"I missed you," he murmurs against your lips, leaving a soft kiss that makes you smile.
"Me too," you confess, kissing him again.
And though desire still burns between the two of you, you both know it's best to wait and save that moment for a more private and suitable place.
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You still don't know what the fuck happened.
But what you do know is that you went to sleep with a silly smile on your lips and at dawn, you put the same silly smile back on your lips as you remembered everything that happened.
However, surprise and fear also flooded you after remembering exactly everything you and Aemond did.
The two of you were going to have sex.
You were going to have sex with him in a hot tub.
You didn't even care about anything, the fact that they were out in the open, the fact that you weren't physically or mentally ready or even the fact that you and he weren't even real boyfriend and girlfriend.
But you wanted to do it, God, you wanted it and badly.
He was even the one who had to stop everything when on another plane, you probably would have done it, but no. You weren't thinking, you were completely drunk with pleasure and now shame is the only thing you feel all over your body.
You can't even tell Alysanne because of the shame and because you know she won't stop laughing at you. You even plan not to leave the room to avoid running into him. But Alysanne makes you go with her to her first surfing lesson.
And ready for the day as you walk with her down the stairs to the main lobby, you think about how if things with Aemond were already weird and awkward before that moment, now the two of you won't even be able to see each other's eyes.
But to your surprise, that's not what happens.
There are several students and teachers already in the lobby when you see his characteristic silver hair, but before you can react and even think, Aemond walks towards you with a small smile as soon as he sees you and kisses you, surprising you since you definitely didn't expect that.
And of course you noticed the look Cregan gave you both, but more to you specifically, but you just told him with your look that you will talk to him about everything later.
And so you start your activities in Dragonstone, with Aemond.
Of course you first keep Alysanne company in her surfing lessons and after she is totally focused on that, you and Aemond spend time together.
Under the golden sun, painting the horizon with warm hues and golden sparkles on the ocean waves, you both enjoy a walk along the shore of the beach, enjoying the salty air and the sea breeze that envelops you.
You talk about everything and about almost nothing at the same time, him being the first one to dare to hold your hand while you enjoy your little walk, making the blood rise to your cheeks and you enjoy like every teenage girl in love these little moments.
Then you both play a game of volleyball, where you both laugh and have fun as you immerse yourselves in the game.
And clearly from running around so much in the intense sun and getting almost sweaty, you get the idea that you both should swim a bit and surprisingly Aemond doesn't refuse the idea, even though he doesn't know how to swim, but you offer to teach him.
In a gray two-piece bikini, you lead him out into the waves, explaining how to move in the water and breathe properly, causing him to begin to gain confidence and enjoy the sensation of being carried by the waves.
But of course after that would come the laughter and playfulness, both laughing and talking while enjoying the sun and the salt water.
And in that moment, the fun turned into an intimate moment as Aemond holds you by the waist, pulling you closer to him. There is a silent intention in his gaze as he touches your skin with his burning hand and you don't pull away, on the contrary, you lean towards him.
You wrap your legs around his torso and his lips press against yours in a deep kiss, losing themselves to each other in the middle of the sea.
And when you both separate, you look at each other with a mixture of shyness and affection, while Aemond places a damp lock behind your ear, feeling a pleasant sensation that he can't quite describe envelop him, especially at the moment when you again leave a soft, tender kiss on his lips.
And with beaming smiles on your faces, you both get out of the water and go upstairs to your rooms to bathe and change your clothes.
But then the two of you meet again and he accompanies you to explore the castle together, marveling at the ancient relics and all the history that surrounds the place.
He also accompanies you to the library to take some photos and to the roof terraces where you get magnificent views of the whole island.
And as you both move through the exhibits, Aemond more than anything couldn't resist hugging and kissing you, expressing his affection in every gesture and you of course didn't mind.
And in the castle's aquarium, you both find yourselves surrounded by fascinating sea creatures, sharing tender moments together as you watch the fish swim around.
The sea creatures seem to dance in the water, their bright colors and movements mesmerizing you as you walk among the tanks.
"You are beautiful," he murmurs against your lips, watching you with that bright glint in his eye as he watches the reflection of the sun and water on your face, creating an aura of serenity and beauty around him.
The blood rushes up to your cheeks and you smile shyly, feeling so silly.
"You are beautiful too, Aemond Targaryen."
You lean towards him and leave another soft kiss on his lips that he reciprocates instantly, taking you by the waist and bringing you completely closer to him, wanting to keep touching and kissing you.
But you both continue the little tour holding hands, where you also take pictures together and of everything you see around you, wanting to capture these moments.
And even though he and you haven't really talked about anything, this doesn't feel like you're both pretending. This feels real and you like the way it feels when you are with him, being completely honest and genuine with your feelings.
Then the day goes on as normal and as expected, after doing all the educational activities in a certain way, it's time for the party.
"There will be my friends, Cregan, my sister and well, Alysanne if she wants to come too," Aemond tells you as you both head towards your rooms.
"I'll convince her to go," you assure him.
"Okay, I'll see you in fifteen minutes then."
"All right," you smile at him.
He leaves down a different hallway from the one you're heading down since each of your rooms are separate and you're focused on getting ready for this party.
You don't know how, but he and his friends have arranged to take a yacht for the night. Obviously they are not going to ride around in it with the night sky, but apparently they have everything ready for everyone to drink and enjoy a while.
Fortunately you convince Alysanne and the three of you soon arrive at the yacht that is stranded in the west harbor of the island, where Aemond's friends are already there, getting everything ready.
Then the music plays, the LED lights turn on and the drinks begin to be served.
Sitting on Aemond's lap, you didn't think you'd have as good a time as you're having now, laughing and talking to everyone, occasionally hugging and kissing him.
And fortunately nothing unfortunate or unpleasant happens, there is only the company of your friends and you enjoy Aemond's presence, clinging to him at every opportunity, hugging him and singing some songs with him like everyone else, having a good time.
And fortunately in the following days there is no activity you don't do with Aemond, even now if you go for a yacht ride, where you can perfectly see some students and also Alysanne practicing surfing.
You also cheer up with the scooter ride, just like him, completely enjoying the moment and the experience.
And you honestly don't want any of it to end.
general taglist:
You want everything to continue to be perfect.
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@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @iloveallmyboys
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li0nn3stuff · 2 days
Text
You see Aemond's eye
English is not my first language, be kind.
Modern!Aemond x fem!Reader 
Warnings: pure smut with a bit of fluff in the end
Aemond groans, as he squeezes her hips with his hands, as she keeps on jumping up and down his cock. He clenches his jaw, throwing back his head at the beautiful feeling of being inside of her once again. Her breasts were jumping up and down in front of his face, still covered by her bra, her hands beside his head, her head thrown back. He looks at her face, contorted in pleasure and a bit of tiredness as she keeps riding him, moaning every time his cock slips back in, rubbing just the right spot inside her.
He moves one of his hands to tug down harshly the cup of her bra, letting one of her breasts out, so he could lean towards it to suck her nipple in his mouth. She moans even loudly and she sits on his cock, swaying her hips back and forth, as she puts one of her hands behind his head, keeping him close to her breast. He grunts and grabs her ass tightly enough to be leaving bruises later, and he starts moving her so she resumes her previous movements, forcing her to take his cock in and out, as he watches how she wonderfully does so, with his mouth half open.
“Yes… Fuck- That’is, baby- Just like that.” He moans as she nods and follows his pace. He let one of his hands away from her ass to bring it to her exposed breast, squeezing it, then twirling her nipple between his fingers.
“Oh- Fuck, A-Aem-Aemond!” She moans loudly and he smirks. He squeezes the skin of her ass even tighter as he stops her movements, fixing the cup of her bra as he puts his hands back on her hips, keeping her still. He plants his feet on the bed and start thrusting his hips up, fucking her from below, his eye glued to where their bodies combined so wonderfully. She moves her hands on his chest to keep her balance and she looks down at him.
“A-Aemond- S-so good..:” she mumbles as he just keeps speeding up, going inhumanly faster. The room was filled with dirty sounds, the sicky sounds of her juices that wetted his crotch, her moans, sobs and whimpers, and his grunts or heavy breathing.
She kept looking at his face, she loved to drink up every expression of his, all the time, in bed, out of bed. She couldn’t stop looking at him, finding every single detail of his face incredibly beautiful. Except for one thing. They’ve talked before, and almost every time, it ended up disappointing for her. His eyepatch. She had asked him on many occasions why he never took it off with her, why she couldn’t see how he was underneath it, and he simply answered that she wasn’t ready, that she would have been disgusted by what she would have seen. Hearing him saying such things about himself always broke her heart, so she would just drop the conversation with a sadden smile.
“I’ll fuck you untill morning, baby- Fuck, if it feels this good it’ll be worth feeling my cock fall off-” He grunts as he grabs the back of her neck and pulls her down on his chest. She hides her face in his neck, trying to cover her moans on his skin, but he slapped her ass, leaving a red print of his hand on it.
“Don’t. Let me hear you. Let everyone hear how good I make you feel.” he growls, as she presses her forehead on his neck as she tries to get a glimpse of the sight of his cock entering her repeatedly, but due to this position she couldn’t, so she just closes her eyes and moans again, clenching her hands on the duvets under them, squeezing them in her hands as she just kept taking whatever he gave her. He takes off his hand from the back of her neck and he slips it between them, searching for her breasts again, so she takes the occasion to sit back up as he keeps pistoning his hips up.
The stamina of this guy was something she just would never understand.
She puts her hands back on his chest, passing her fingers over his nipples, and she looks back at his face. His lips parted, his rapid breathing and his expression of struggle, pleasure and determination. He grunts and throws his head back as he closes his eye, the scar wrinkling the skin around it, the eyepatch moving slightly. He probably didn’t even notice, but she did. She puts her hand on his scarred cheek, caressing it, as he immediately opened his eye to watch her attently. Giving her a few harder thrusts to warn her, that made her sob harder, almost taking her breath away. She fixes his eyepatch over his eye and she leans down to kiss his chest, keeping her hand on his cheek, sitting back up after.
Aemond’s thrusts were getting harder and quicker, a sign that he was about to cum. She looks back at his face and he sees his pained expression as he tried to hold back, feeling her walls starting to squeeze him, knowing that he was just building her orgasm up. She bites her lip as he keeps looking at his face, and even if she knew that what she was about to do was really wrong, she couldn’t refrain herself, so she moved her hand and slipped his eyepatch off. She met blue.
He was… beautiful.
His lost eye has been replaced with a blue sapphire gem, his eyelid a bit wrinkly and red at the edges. But that eye, that gem… Aemond widened his eye, shocked by her action. How could he be insecure of such a sight? God, she was so lucky, she was in heaven, she felt the highest, knowing that she get to be fucked by him, touched, kissed, by him. She was flattered to even be close to him. She kept staring at him, and after finally having revealed to herself what he looked like, all she could do was just cum. She collapsed on top of him as her walls spasmed violently, never having cum this hard in her life, she just felt wonderfully, hugging his neck close to her as she let out the loudest moan.
Aemond clenches his eye close as he moans back just as loud, her walls sucking him so wonderfully that his legs just fail him when he finally lets himself cum. She puts her hands on the sides of his face as she presses her lips on his. He sighs and kisses her back, pushing her away almost immediately. She pulls away and looks at him with her lips pressed together.
“I-I’m so sorry…” She was panting, her whole body was shaking.
“Why did you even do it?” He growls as he puts his eyepatch back on, but she grabs his wrist to stop him.
“No! Please, I’m really sorry I did it like this, but please, Aemond, don’t wear the eyepatch again.” She begs him. He growls and he pulls his wrist away from her. “What makes you think you have the right to ask this, uh?!” He was angry, he felt betrayed, and he had all the right to be, she knew it.
“Aemond… I know I-I shouldn’t have, but… You’re beautiful.” She ends up whispering her last two words. He looks at her as if she was a madwoman.
“You should be disgusted.” He hisses at her and she furrows her brows.
“Disgusted? Aemond… who told you that? Your eye is nothing to be disgusted by.” She felt her heart break into pieces at his words. He just fixes his eyepatch on his eyes and looks away from her.
“No one.” He answers coldly. She presses her lips together, feeling her eyes filling with tears. She moves off of him and lays beside him. Aemond was stubborn, what he said, he had to do. She felt it was worth it to try again. 
“Aemond…” She puts her hand on his cheek, turning his face towards her. She met his glacial gaze, the one he usually reserved for strangers. It sent shivers down her spine, mixed with pure fear. Did she just ruin everything? Only the idea of losing him made her want to cry and beg him on her knees. She takes a deep breath to not burst into tears.”P-Please… You’re perfect… you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen…” 
His expression softens as he sees her tears, and he sighs in frustration, pulling her close, making her lean on his chest as he wraps his arm around her.
“Did you cum for my eye?” He asks so shamelessly that she blushed violently, even though it was nothing she could deny. She slowly nodded her head, looking down at her hand resting on his chest. He heard Aemond moving, then his hand came in her view field, holding his eyepatch. He was giving her his eyepatch. Her head snaps up, looking up at him. His cheeks red in embarrassment, as he was looking away from her. His eye uncovered. She smiles softly, wiping away her tears, as she leans on her elbow to look better at him she puts her hand on his cheek again, turning his head to her. He was so pretty, his cheeks flushed, his gaze drifted to the side, as he refused to meet your eyes.
“You’re beautiful.” She repeated, smiling at him. His cheeks only reddened more as he clenched his jaw.
“I don’t get you. How can you enjoy the sight of any of this?” He answers and I rest my chin on top of your chest, admiring your face.
“I just do. Simple as that.” 
He finally looks down at her and he caresses her cheek with her thumb.
“I don’t think I would have ever been able to take the eyepatch off in front of you. I guess it was a good thing that you did it for me.” He says as he looks at her, his mind strangely calm. She leans towards his hand as she closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft touches.
He grabs her by the back of her neck and she brings her up to his face so he can kiss her. She immediately wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he rolls to get on top of her. He looked at her, smirking. Her reaction to his eye gave him a huge boost of confidence.
“I won't cover my eye again when we are alone, I promise.”  She smiles back at him at his words. He smiles devilishly then he adds: 
“Especially if it makes you cum that hard.” 
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sstan-hoe · 3 days
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𝑷𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒛𝒊
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𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — actor!aemond targaryen × fem!reader
𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — life with aemond is always risky...but not just because of his status in society. No, more because he likes doing risky activities...
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — smut, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, getting caught, public sex
𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — well, what more can I say besides the fact, that the new trailers awaked something in me? Team black forever, I'll just take aemond as a prisoner
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A happy sigh left your mouth as you leaned your back against Aemond while his fingertips graced along your arms.
He had found a cinema with the opportunity to watch a movie while laying comfortably in your seat and god was it amazing.
And another plus point, the cinema was rather outside the city and as a result not as crowded, meaning no paparazzi or fans were around.
You and Aemond were in the last row, giving your man enough privacy to trail his hand from your arm down to your sweats. “Aemond!” You whisper-shouted trying to slap his hand away but instead he gripped your wrist with his free hand, caging you in between his arms.
“Come on love, live a little…” He chuckled, his lips lightly gazing your cheek.
You rolled your eyes at his words, Aemond lived for those risky sex moments. While you did enjoy them, you often come too close to getting caught.
“Aemond, we almost got caught last time!” You complained as his finger slipped into your panties, and that gods forsaken pussy of your betrayed you once again by getting wet just from his voice.
“Quite a tone you have there...you are really serious huh?” He asked with amusement dripping from his voice.
“You’re soaked for me, my little whore is turned on by getting caught,” Aemond drags his fingers through your folds, rubbing your clit gently. A whimper left your lips as he put pressure into his movements.
Suddenly a white light filled the cinema and it surly wasn’t the movie.
Aemond looked around, his eye scanned his right side and locked with the ones of a paparazzi. The actors face was filled with rage, he pulled his hand away from you and gently pushed you to the side.
“What the actual fuck man? How much of a perv do you have to be, taking a photo of my girl and I? You better get your ass out of here before you don't feel your face anymore, sick fuck!” He yelled at the paparazzi who scrambled out of the theatre.
“Come on, we’re leaving and tomorrow we will go to the police, and I will call my agent.” Aemond promised you softly, taking your hand to help you stand up.
Tears threatened to leave your eyes as you walked out of the cinema. A crowd of paparazzi were waiting outside, all of them making photos of Aemond and you. “Shut those fucking cameras off!” the blonde snapped at one of them who held the camera close to your face.
You could hear them ask questions, but you didn’t know what they said, too focused on getting out of there.
When you were finally inside the car you took a deep breath, though your exhaling was shaky. Aemind grabbed your hand giving it a gently squeeze before starting the engine, “we will be home any second love, I promise,” he whispered while stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.
You nodded at him to let him know that you were listening. He always wanted to here you say that you were with him in situations like this, however at the moment was all you could offer him.
The car came to a stop in front of your apartment, Aemond walked over to your side and opened the door for you helping you out of the car. “I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, how does that sound?”
His thumb graced over your cheekbone as he smiled at you. You didn’t answer his question, instead you slowly realized what happened. “They saw us…that man took a photo of us, while you had you hand in my pants…oh god they caught us! What are we going to do?”
“Tomorrow I will go to the police, make an indication, call my agent and we will sue them yeah?”
“But what if they use it against us? I don’t believe it's allowed to do that,” your eyes were filled with fright as your mind imagined all the possibilities, on how this could be used against you.
“Maybe, but what that man did was far worse than our little adventure and even if they use it against us do you know how many people are on our side? Aegon, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Haelena and those were only a few!” He tried to reassure. You wanted to believe him so bad but a voice in your head told you the oppisite.
“And they won’t think I’m a…slut?” “Oh, god my love no! You are not a slut, it was my fault we got caught, okay? I made you do this, it's all my fault.”
His large rough, but gentle hands cupped your cheeks as the tears you tried to hold back streamed down your face. Aemond lead you to the couch and brought a tissue up to your cheeks, drying your tears.
“It's you and me against the world, yeah? We did that and it was okay, you are not a slut, and that man is a sick perv who will get at least liberty punishment and with our lawyer he will end up in prison.”
The tears slowly stopped, your vision was still blurry, but you could make out how Aemond looked at you, with so much love and care. “I love you and I’m sorry we got caught my beautiful girl,” he whispered against your lips.
“I love you too,” you replied sealing your lips in a soft, slow kiss that was filled with passion.
“I’m going to make sure that paparazzi gets what he deserves,” Aemond promised you as he carefully pulled away from your soft lips, giving you one last kiss before he stood up.
“Hot chocolate?” “With marsh-“ “Marshmallows I know,” he gave you a cute smile before vanishing in the kitchen.
He knew that by tomorrow the whole internet would be flooded with the picture, but with you by his side he knew that he could go through hell and back, with smile as if you just told him, you loved him.
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randomdragonfires · 3 days
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Pieces of a Woman | Bonus
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Text Divider by @saradika-graphics
SUMMARY | In the aftermath of the Battle Above The God's Eye, a mad widow weeps.
WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Yearning; Major Character Death; ANGST.
WORD COUNT | 1.2k
A/N | Not beta read. To be read as an accompaniment to this one shot, but I suppose it works as a standalone too. Repost from my old blog.
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There is a chill in the air that she does not like.
The white shift that she wore was too thin to allow her any semblance of warmth, and she is reminded of that as the cold air hits her form. Her days are long and her nights are lonely, each moment taking longer to pass than it should as she sits quietly, rocking herself back and forth with her hands hugging her knees. A loud thunderstorm strikes through the Keep - it is scary and loud enough to make her whimper and mumble into her hands.
“Aemond, Aemond, Aemond,” she repeats over and over.
Her eyes are an endless pit, having lost all their charm from months of isolated confinement. Her hands are frail, and they shake incessantly even when there is nothing within her line of sight to scare her. Her once beautiful hair is now unkempt and dry, falling around the sides of her hair like a dark, damning curtain. 
Aemond loved my hair, she thinks. He always thought I had beautiful hair.
Aemond is dead.
She continues to cry, her eyes a mad, murderous red as the tears fall freely down her cheek. 
Aemond would have wiped them off, she thinks. He would have kissed my forehead and told me I’d be alright.
Aemond is dead.
It is a rare moment of clarity, this moment in time. She does not have them often anymore, she knows. In times like this, she has always heard servants whispering about her apparent behaviour when she was not conscious of her being. 
“Madness. She’s gone mad, the poor thing,” the servant maid had whispered outside her doors one night. “Absolute shame. She scratched the poor Prince’s face out yesterday!”
Aemond, Aemond, Aemond. Her husband, her love, hers.
Not anymore.
She lifts her hands and cries, her tears a seemingly endless stream. She had hurt the man she loved with these very hands - her nails had dried blood on them, and she doesn't know where it could have come from. Was it Aemond’s blood? She does not know. Has she been scratching her own skin out?
She stands up and screams as the words continue to ring in her weak, fragile mind. “Aemond is dead. Your husband fought valiantly, Your Grace,” the servant maid had said. In a fit of anger, she takes the book - Ten Thousand Ships - left strewn about on her bedside. She does not know who had brought it, or where it had come from - all she knows is that they did not believe her worthy enough to deliver the news to her themselves, and had sent a servant maid to relay it to her.
She was everything to Aemond. She is worth nothing to them. 
The realization hits her harsher than the gust of wind that she is now trying to shield herself from as she cries and tears the book to shreds. The pages fly about before they fall to the ground like light noiseless water drops. She continues to tear at it to her heart’s content and cries, cries, cries - but it is not enough. It is never enough.
Aemond is dead.
She does not remember much from when they were married - just that she had a husband who loved her enough to keep her. Was there a son? She remembers a baby boy. Was he hers? Was he Aemond’s? Where was he?
Aemond is dead.
She grips the hem of her shift and bends down to let her head rest on the cold, unmade bed. Her sobs are muffled by the cushions as they permeate the air in groans and whines. She then sits on the same bed and continues to weep - for what, she struggles to recall - only for a moment before it hits her again.
Aemond is dead.
She does not recognize the movement of her hands as she hugs herself. Her nails dig deep into the flesh of her arms as she weeps, rocking herself back and forth once more. Her cries are loud, louder and louder still, almost as though she was shouldering the sadness of the entire Keep. How could she not, after all she had been through?
Aemond is dead.
She is a dark silhouette in a greying room, a scary sight in her shift and untamed hair let loose. The servants treat her like she is some sort of wild animal, one that they are afraid of being eaten and hurt by. She has not known the love of her family in what seems like years, and she does not remember all the nights that her husband had come to give her warmth and comfort.
Aemond is dead. 
But who was Aemond?
Her thoughts fluctuate constantly - one moment she knows, one moment she does not. One moment she was in his arms, and the next she was screaming at him to let her die. Die, die, die. The words have taken over her completely in this moment and her feet carry her to the large window of their own accord. The young Princess, a new widow, steps on the ledge and watches the grounds of the city as it sleeps in the pale moonlight.
Die, die, die. Aemond was dead. Dead. Who was Aemond? Who is he? A husband. Aemond? A baby?
Her feet sway just slightly as she regains her balance, and she turns back to look around the room as she spots the torn pages. True to her madness, despite her confusion all this time, her thoughts oscillate once more. Ten Thousand Ships, a gift from… Aemond. A man who loved her more than she could even try, a man she loved back with all that she ever was.
But who was Aemond?
She breathes out raggedly, heavily, audibly - waiting for the loudness in her mind to stop as she clutches her head tight with her palms and covers her ears. But it does not, it never does. 
Madwoman… wife… a son… a Prince… poor thing… once a beautiful, happy girl born in the spring… dead. Aemond was dead.
In her last moment of unhinged grief, one of the pages flies about and she remembers.
Aemond was her husband. Aemond loved her. Aemond wanted her to get better. Aemond wanted her to be safe. Aemond wanted her to love him again. Aemond wanted her to come back to him. Aemond did not want her to die.
Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…
She remembers. She remembers happy days when she had been a wife and a mother. She remembers better days when she was beautiful and happy and had a husband who worshipped the ground she walked on; in whose eyes she could do no wrong.
She remembers safe arms around her, kisses to her temple, rough thrusts into her cunt. She remembers her hands holding onto his, his warm breath fanning her face, sweet nothings whispered in her ear. She remembers him reading to her in his low voice, in rumbling whispers that made her giggle once upon a time. She remembers and knows that Aemond did not want her to die.
Die, die, die. Aemond did not want her to-
It happens quickly.
Her foot slips and she falls, falls, falls. It is seemingly never-ending and she does not scream. She makes no noise as she sees windows and bricks zoom past her, looking at them briefly at an angle she never has before. Her shift billows above her knees and her hair flies in all directions and she falls, falls, falls…
Until she abruptly lands.
The warmth of the blood pooling below her head is a last moment of comfort for her. The last thing she sees is the blurring sight of thick, viscous blood seeping through her hair, coloring the floor red. 
Not my hair, she thinks with her dying breath. Aemond loved my hair.  He always thought I had beautiful hair.
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MASTERLIST
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buckybarnesb-tch · 1 day
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Aemond T. Yandere A-Z
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(For the multiple people who asked for a Yandere Alphabet for our favorite little War Criminal)
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A stands for AFFECTION: how would they show affection?
•Aemond is a gift giver to the extreme
•From the moment you found out about your betrothal to your Uncle, you had been receiving gorgeous dresses, fantastic shoes and jewelry you could never have imagined wearing. All of the jewelry you were gifted containing large sapphires in the necklaces or earrings, staking the One Eyed Princes claim on you
B stands for BLOODY: how bloody are they willing to get for their object of obsession?
•He loves getting bloody on a normal occasion so getting bloody for you would be a joy for Aemond
•He would slaughter any and all men who dared even think they had a chance with his girl and he even killed a few women who thought it their place to ‘warn you’ about what he’s like and insist you needed to get out of the marriage proposal, even though you all knew that was impossible
C stands for CRUELTY: would they ever hurt their object of obsession?
•Aemond would avoid harming you as much as possible, he never liked to see pain on your face or bruises on your perfect porcelain skin but if you thought you were going to defy him then he needed to teach you a lesson
•Normally locking you in your rooms was enough after two days of isolation and eating all of your meals alone
•Only once did Aemond ever really hurt you and it was only after you had pushed him too far, something even you admitted he couldn’t ignore in public
D stands for DARLING: would they cross their object of obsession’s limits?
•Aemond is as patient as he can be with you but if you give him no other choice, then yes, he absolutely will
E stands for EXPOSED: how much do they expose their own feelings to their object of obsession?
•Aemond talks to you about almost everything
•One of your jobs as his wife is to listen to him and you quickly find out you’re the only person that he really tells about how he feels about everything from his mother to his brother to even his father
•He is also very open in how he feels about you, making it clear from the moment you are betrothed that you are his and he is completely obsessed with you loves you dearly
F stands for FIGHT: how would they react to their object of obsession fighting back?
•Aemond absolutely thinks it’s funny…for about 5 minutes
•You are his wife and him your husband, you will behave as a lady is expected to behave within the confines of her marriage so ‘fighting back’ isn’t really much of an option
G stands for GAME: do they think this is just a game?
•You are Aemond’s everything, this is no game
•Anyone who thinks it is will get a painful wake up call sooner than they think
H stands for HELL: what would be their object of obsession’s worst experience with them?
•Your worst experience would be the one time you made the mistake of refusing his demands in front of the small council
•Aemond didn’t want to harm you, he was trying quite hard to get you used to being his wife and doing your duties/behaving how he expected you to but you didn’t give him much of an option before you felt his hand strike your face so painfully you briefly thought he had broken your jaw
•He apologized for hitting you so hard later in the privacy of your rooms but informed you that you shouldn’t have said anything against him in front of anyone especially the small council and even you knew how badly you had messed up as soon as the words left your mouth
I stands for IDEAL: what are their plans for their object of obsession?
•Aemond’s plan is impregnating you
•That has been his plan since the moment he insisted his mother ensure you were going to be his wife
J stands for JEALOUSY: how they react when jealous? Do they get jealous?
•When Aemond is jealous someone is going to die, he is a violent man when he thinks another man is getting close to his wife and he will often publicly punish any man who he thinks is looking at his Princess wrong
•You learned very quickly to talk to other men as little as possible
•However you also learned that if you wanted a man dead you had a sure fire way to make it happen
K stands for KINDNESS: how they act around their object of obsession?
•When you and Aemond are alone he is much different than he is in public
•Aemond is usually a sweet, gentle person with you when he isn’t in a bad mood or you’re not being difficult
•Even when in public he is gentler with you than most men are with their wives, he’s just far more quiet and somber
L stands for LOVE LETTER: how would they approach their object of obsession?
•He made sure his mother knew he would only accept you as his wife, and that if Rhaenyra made the mistake of trying to marry you to anyone else he would steal you away before any wedding could take place and burn the Lords house to the ground, ally of the Hightowers or not
•Aemond was quite sweet to you, he always had been when you were children however he was a proper gentleman now and he ensured you were as happy as you could be…obsessively so
M stands for MASK: how different are their public persona from their true selves?
•He is quiet for the most part in public, and if he must say something it is usually a snarky comment or a backhanded insult
•With you he is very attentive and often needy for your attention which is actually what makes you fall for him in the end, loving his desperation for you
N stands for NAUGHTY: how would they punish their object of obsession?
•Aemond locks you in your chambers until you can’t stand being alone anymore and admit you were wrong for whatever, you never really need anything more than that
O stands for OPPRESSION: how many rights would they take from their object of obsession?
•Rights?
•What are rights?
•You are Aemond’s wife. You will do what is expected of a highborn lady wife or be punished. Even so, Aemond tries to make you as happy as he can and doesn’t order you about as much as he could
P stands for PATIENCE: how patient are they with their object of obsession?
•Aemond tries his best to be very patient and to his credit he does very well until you push too hard
•Compared to other men and even other Targaryen men, he is quite patient with you, wanting you to actually learn lessons and want to be a good wife for him in the end
Q stands for QUIT: if their object of obsession died or escaped, would they ever be able to move on?
Died: He would be a complete basket case without you and he would refuse to remarry for any reason what so ever
Escaped: He would go on a rampage until he got you back. No one would be safe until he found you and had you back in his arms
R stands for REGRET: would they ever regret harming their object of obsession? Would they ever let them go?
•Aemond will Never let you go
•He would only ever regret how hard he slapped you once in a small council meeting, he hated how afraid of him you were in that moment
S stands for STIGMA: what made their yandere tendencies bloom?
•You had always been the only one in the family who was kind to Aemond, being his best friend as kids
•He knew you would be his wife from the moment you first stuck up for him during the pig prank to your brothers and uncle, that was the day he fell completely in love with you
•He decided that night that he would do whatever he needed to do in order to make you his wife, even though he knew his mother would want to marry him to another house and that Rhaenyra would never want you to be with him
T stands for TEARS: how would they react to their object of obsession crying/breaking?
•Anger
•Your tears brings out a rage in Aemond that is not often seen and he will slaughter whoever has made you so upset
•If he were the one to upset you however, he wouldn’t really know how to fix that. He would typically hold you until you either calmed down or cried yourself out and then get you a gift as an apology since “apologizing” isn’t really something he knows how to do very well
U stands for UNIQUE: something different they would do compared to others yanderes.
•In the beginning of your relationship, before the wedding was set and you were staying as far from him as you could, Aemond came up with a plan to make you dependent on him and feel safe with him to ensure you wouldn’t try and run back home to Rhaenyra and Daemon (who was the only man you seemed to trust which enraged him to no end)
•Aemond had Criston Cole hire a man to sneak into the castle with the intent to kill you. He planed it out meticulously to ensure you were never in any real danger though you wouldn’t know that
•The man entered your chambers as you were getting ready to sleep and you shrieked, backing towards the window, pleading with him not to harm you and telling him that he could leave and you would forget he was ever there. Suddenly your door flew open and Aemond ran in, he was on the man before you could blink, beating his head in as he shouted about how he would never let anyone harm his wife
•It was that night that you really began giving Aemond the chance to win your love, realizing that you were truly safe with him. The entire plot was a secret that Aemond would take to his grave
V stands for VICE: what weakness their object of obsession could use against them?
•His jealousy, 100%
•If you want someone, anyone dead, all you need to do is make it seem like they’ve been looking at you for more than a second too long, it gives you a feeling of absolute power and you love it
W stands for WIT’S END: would they hurt their object of obsession?
•Aemond would never hurt you in any kind of serious way
•If he has to he will lock you in your chambers for the rest of your life, but he won’t do you serious harm
X stands for XOANON: would they worship their object of obsession?
•He definitely has a way of making you feel like a Goddess
•Especially when you’re pregnant as he worships the ground you walk on. He is constantly getting you whatever food you’re craving, fluffing your pillows, rubbing your sore feet, anything to make his precious Princess feel better while she is carrying his baby inside of her
•You are the most precious thing in the whole world to him and even when he is upset with you Aemond never lets you forget it
Y stands for YEARN: how long would they pine after their object of obsession before they snap?
•Aemond has always loved you, and always had a bit of a crush on you however he has been head over heels since he was 10
•He keeps it together and hidden until he is 16 and he demands you as his bride upon hearing that Rhaenyra was considering marriage proposals for you, the idea of you being married off to someone else sending him over the edge
Z stands for ZENITH: would they ever break their object of obsession?
•Aemond doesn’t want you broken, he wants you to be his compliant little Princess and that’s exactly what you are
•You had always known what was expected of you as a women and a wife in a marriage from the time that you were a little girl (though you never expected to be married to your Uncle) but Aemond ensured that you would be exactly what he always wanted in a wife and you are absolutely Perfect to him
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Aemond Targaryen Masterlist
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myocsfanfictions · 1 day
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THE WRATH OF FIRE
House of the Dragon Fanfiction
MASTERLIST
Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.
《 Previous - Next 》
CHAPTER 4
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“Dracarys.” When Ysilla said those words, her dragon breathed fire. She had the serving girl bring her a piece of raw meat.
Dragons didn't eat raw meat.
"Sƴz, riña," the Maester told her. He had been with her for six months now. A gift from her uncle after she visited King's Landing. (Good, child)
"Kirimvose," she answered. Her eyes fixed on her dragon. (Thank you)
Ysilla had been studying High Valyrian as soon as the Maester started to serve her, but her mother did not appreciate the King's gift. She said that there was no reason for him to be in Runestone.
"Mother, please!" she complained one night when her mother expressed the wish for the man to return to King's Landing.
"We don't need him here." She had answered.
"You may don't, but I do," Ysilla said. The shock on her mother's face was visible. Ysilla usually listened to whatever her mother said. It had been a strange feeling to be stubborn with her. But Ysilla could not let her lady mother send her teacher back to the Capital.
"I'm the only Targaryen who does not know High Valyrian," Ysilla explained. Her small hands clenched in fists. She wanted to be strong in front of her mother. She had to be.
"I've always told you to be proud of your blood. First Men's blood," her mother's words made Ysilla's eyes stung with tears.
"I remember," she said. But she wouldn't have backed down. "But I need to learn High Valyrian."
"You need to learn how to hawk," her mother answered firmly.
Ysilla felt so much rage in her.
"I'm not a goat; I'm a dragon!" Her mother's dark eyes widened. Shocked, she shared a look with her cousin, Ser Gerold Royce. At that moment, Ysilla understood that the words she had heard from Otto Hightower were true. It had been painful. But she knew what she had to do.
If Father sees I'm a good Targaryen, he will love me. Ysilla was sure of that. She did not act as a Targaryen at all. Her mother wanted her to be more similar to a Royce. But Ysilla was much more of that. She was a Targaryen princess. In a few years, he would have been a dragon rider. And when she would have grown up, she would have been like Visenya. She was more than a noble lady from the Vale. She was a Targaryen.
Father would be proud of me, she swore.
Ysilla would study all day. History, philosophy, calculus, politics, and High Valyrian. With the Master of the Dragonpit, she would speak only High Valyrian. She wanted to learn fast, especially when she found out that the war on the Stepstones was over.
"Father won!" Ysilla said happily to her uncle Gerold one day in the Godswood of Runestone. "He must have flown with Caraxes and burned them all."
Her uncle observed her in silence. His beard may have hidden half of his face. But she could see his lips tight in a thin line.
"You've changed, Ysilla, since you visited King's Landing," he said, making her smile.
"The Maester says that dragons feel other dragons," she answered, looking at the red leaves of the Heart Tree, "Maybe it had been the same with humans as well."
Her uncle took a deep breath. "Why are you so obsessed with these matters? You hardly speak of other topics, if not dragons."
Ysilla lowered her eyes. No one wanted to talk about those matters with her, as no one liked her dragon, her only friend.
"I'm a Targaryen," she said, "My father is Prince Daemon Targaryen."
"And your mother is Rhea Royce," he reproved her. Does she not share equal importance?"
"Of course she does," Ysilla muttered with a flush of shame. Since her dragon had been born, Ysilla and her mother had started to argue frequently. Her mother did not like Ysill's interests.
Ysilla wished not to argue with her mother. She had been very important to the little princess. She had been a role model, and Ysilla had so much respect for her. And she had raised Ysilla as a Royce. Proud as a Royce. But she wanted for Ysilla to forget that she was a Targaryen. And she could not. Ysilla had to show her father and everyone else that her mother was no goat. And that she was a dragon.
"You know I love you?" One evening, Ysilla asked her mother about it as they were dining.
"So sudden?" Her mother answered with raised eyebrows. Rhea Royce was not an openly loving woman, but Ysilla knew her mother cared for her.
"Do you?" Ysilla insisted stubbornly.
Her mother took a breath, "I do."
Ysilla seemed happy by her words, "And I'm sorry if in the last months I've been wilful."
"I'm glad you've realized it," her mother said, but Ysilla kept talking. " Why do you don't like that I'm a Targaryen?" Her mother took a breath. She put the knife in her hand and put it back on the table, but she did not answer. "Everyone in the realm wishes to say that their children have the blood of old Valyria."
Her mother observed her in silence for a moment, "The marriage between me and your father is a rich arrangement for the realm," Ysilla's eyes grew larger, leaning forward on the table. Her mother had never spoken of those matters with her. "But your father grew insufferable here. Insufferable of me," Ysilla listened quietly, "When I gave birth to you, your hair was as dark as your eyes. And he was there. He suggested that you were a bastard."
Ysilla lowered her eyes. It could not be possible. But why would her mother lie to her? There was no reason. So it must be true. But it could not be.
"He never wanted to see you," her mother said.
"I'm not a bastard," Ysilla whispered.
"No, you're not," her mother answered. Growing up, your hair and eyes proved it to everyone. But your father never accepted that."
"Why?" Ysilla asked, confused.
"He loathes me as I do him," she answered. And he would have broken the marriage off if he could make people think you were a bastard. That's why he never wants to see us." Ysilla lowered her gaze. "He loves his ambition, Ysilla. And you are more than him."
Ysilla felt confused. It all seemed absurd to her. Why would her father hate her mother? And why did he hate his daughter because of that? He had never talked to her. One could not just decide to hate someone, could they?
"All the Kings of the Seven Kingdoms, Ysilla," asked the Septa one morning.
Ysilla took a breath. "Aegon I the Conquerer. After him, there was his son, Aenys I. His mother was Queen Rhaenys. Then Maegor the Cruel. Then Jeaherys I. He was called The Old King, or the Wise, or the Conciliator. He ruled peacefully for half a century. But he had no heir."
"So what happened?" The Septa asked.
"He had to choose between his two nephews," Ysilla remembered, "Princess Rhaenys or Prince Viserys. And he chose Prince Viserys. Now King Viserys I."
"And who is to follow?"
"The King chose Princess Rhaenyra," Ysilla said. Then she frowned. No woman had been queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And when her Uncle chose Rhaenyra, Aegon was not yet born. So, the rightful heir should have been her father, Daemon Targaryen.
He loves his ambition. Ysilla remembered her mother's words. How did her father react to the King's decision?
And the Dragonstone folly. She remembered.
"What is it with Father and Dragonstone?" Ysilla asked before she could stop herself.
The Septa's eyes widened, "That is off-topic, princess."
"But I want to know," Ysilla said stubbornly. "Why was Father in Dragonstone? Rhaenyra is the Princess of Dragonstone, not Father."
"Ysilla," her mother's voice came from behind her, making her turn. The Septa was quick to stand up and bow to the Lady of Runestone. "Stop with those questions," Ysilla observed her mother; she was wearing her riding attire. She was surely going out to hawk. Then she came next to her daughter, caressing her hair, "I'm riding out," she said, "Do you remember your duties for today?"
Ysilla nodded, "History, then sawing lesson."
The High Valyrian, she thought.
"I'll be back to dine together," her mother said, putting on her glove, "Behave."
"And be proud," Ysilla muttered. That made her mother chuckle.
"I don't need to remind you that," she said, "You never fail to be proud." Ysilla smiled, observing her mother walking toward the door.
"Be careful," Ysilla said to her mother like she always did. The little princess didn't go out to hawk that much—her pony was too little. But her mother had told her that in six months, they would have gone hawking together. Her mother loved to hunt, but Ysilla could not wait to be on the dragon's back more.
"Skori jāhor nyke sagon naejot sōvegon issa zaldrīzes?" Asked Ysilla, stammering some of the words. Not sure she remembered them correctly. (When will I be able to fly my dragon?)
"Hāre jēdri, riña," the Maester answered, observing how Ysilla's dragon liked to be next to his rider. (Three years, girl)
Three years, and she would have been able to fly. Her dragon was growing every day more, surprising everyone. But the Maester told her that he was growing fast for his conditions.
"I really need to find a name soon," she said, observing the violet eyes of her dragon. "A fighter name." Then he looked at the sky, making a little sound. Then he looked back at Ysilla, making the same sound. He seemed a little agitated, but he calmed down when the girl touched his head.
The Maester had told her that she and the creature had a strong connection. "Hae dārilaros Daemon se Caraxes." (Like Prince Daemon and Caraxes)
Ysilla looked up at the man. He had been in King's Landing all his life, tending the Targaryens' Dragons. He had seen all of them: King Viserys and Balerion, The Black Dread, Princess Rhaenys and Meleys, Rhaenyra, and Syrax, and, of course, Ysilla's father and Caraxes.
"Gōntan kepa gūrotan Caraxes lēda zirȳla, skori istas naejot Zaldrīzesdōron?" Ysilla spoke slowly, thinking about every word. (Did Father take Caraxes with him when he went to Dragonstone?)
"Hen rhinka, riña." the man answered. His tone was strange. Trying to hide anger. But it was there. Why anger? She wanted to know. (Of course, child)
He would have never answered if she had asked inquisitively, she knew. But maybe that anger could be used in some way.
"Such a vile act," Ysilla said, using the same tone Otto Hightower had used. "Dragonstone belongs to Princess Rhaenyra."
"The stolen egg was much more vile," when she turned to the man, his eyes were wide. Regretting those words. "Forgive me, princess," he was quick to add, bowing his head.
Her father had stolen a dragon egg. Why would he do such a thing?
Her dragon looked at the sky again, flipping his small black wings.
"There's no need," she answered, trying to do her best to hide the shock in her tone, "I already knew," she lied, "My mother always tells me about my father's deeds. And they are not always positive words." She thought fast. Her egg had been chosen for her as soon as she was born; that was the Targaryen's tradition. If her father had taken an egg, there was only a reason. She felt rage thinking about that possibility.
"A dragon to a bastard," she said, noticing how the stolen egg was a sensitive topic for the man. "That's an insult."
Would he really steal an egg to give it to a bastard when he had insulted his mother by saying that Ysilla was one?
"Fortunately, no bastard was born, as far as it's known," he answered, "It was just an act to challenge the King's authority."
He loves his ambition, Ysilla.
Didn't he support his brother as King? Or he didn't support Rhaenyra as the future Queen? Why did he take that egg?
"Skoros drōmon iksin bona?" Ysilla asked not turning to the man. (What egg was that?)
"Se drōmon hen Dreamfyre. Dārilaros Rhaenyra ēdas chosen ziry syt zirȳla morghe lēkia, Baelon," Ysilla felt the blood in her veins run cold. (The egg of Dreamfyre. Princess Rhaenyra had chosen it for her dead brother, Baelon)
It was such a vile act to steal his dead nephew's egg. To give it to who? If he hated his wife, who was he planning to give it to? She would have liked to ask more, but her dragon started to growl, agitated. He flapped his wings again and kept looking at the sky.
That was strange. He had never done that. He was a calm dragon, never making many sounds, but he was upset and not able to stay still.
"Skoros iksis jāre va?" Ysilla asked, glancing at the man before walking to her dragon, kneeling at his side, "Lykiri," she said, trying to gain her dragon's attention, but he wasn't listening. (What is going on?) (Calm down)
"Maester?" She asked, seeing the man looking at the sky as well. His face was dark with worry.
"Dohaeris," she said, focusing back on her dragon. He seemed somewhat drawn to those words and glanced at her with his purple eyes.
A strange feeling went down through Ysilla's back. A shiver full of dread.
I want Mother, she thought instinctively. Feeling her eyes stung with tears.
"Ysilla," The voice of her uncle Gerold made her turn with a gasp. The man was behind her. His face was pale, his hands were trembling, and on his clothes, there was blood.
She stood up, trembling. Her eyes never lived the red of the blood.
"The Lady Rhea…"
Ysilla felt cold as her dragon roared with wrath.
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𝙋𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙥𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧.
— King Aegon Targaryen Second Of His Name
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cdragons · 3 days
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Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter Two
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Previous Chapter
Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.
Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Jace is delulu, tiny!Aemond is kind of a jerk in this one, Dark Themes, shit is going down, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also, translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also, I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠
Author's Note: I'M BACKKKKKK! I am so sorry for leaving this story alone for so long! I have been getting into other fandoms and making new stories because of those fandoms. But the two new trailers for HOTD season 2 brought me back! I swear I will be better at updating this story! But on the bright side, I made this chapter over 5k word length! I own only the plot and OCs of this story, please do not repost without my permission.
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Despite living in the Red Keep for nearly your entire life, you still felt hopelessly lost as you walked down the corridors beside the prince. Like you and Aemond, the sight of you walking side by side with the heir of the Iron Throne’s firstborn son made for an unusual sight for the courtiers of the Royal Family. But this was not the case with the serving staff, which comprised smallfolk. Your mother was a favored companion by Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. Despite coming from such humble beginnings, Doreah of Essos became a highly regarded member of the serving staff belonging to the House of Targaryen. All the maids respected your mother, while most stewards who served under knights idolized your father. And as your mother’s daughter, they were very used to the vision of one of their humble sewists’ children playing with the Royal children.
As a result, no one so much as batted an eye when they saw you walking down the halls directly beside Prince Jacaerys. It would have made a much more unusual sight if your presence was absent by either his or his uncle’s side. The older staff bowed their heads in respect to the prince while also flashing a small but kind smile at you. The younger serving girls were still too new in the ways of the court and beamed with broad smiles at the sight of you before acknowledging Jace. You grinned back as you inwardly beamed at the knowledge that Head Septa Marlow was with you.
She would have scolded those girls fiercely if she had caught them greeting an apprentice seamstress before the prince.
You turned your head to glance at your childhood friend, who happened to be second in line for the Iron Throne, as you both made your way to his mother’s chambers. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in the troubled expression on his face. Just a few minutes ago, he was practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you left Aemond alone in the Godswood. But now it felt as if he was a thousand miles away from you despite being so close. Having been by his side since his birth, you always felt a sense of protectiveness toward the young prince. No matter his station, you were a month past your third name-day when he was brought into this world. It was natural that you were perspective to his shifting moods.
“Jace?” you softly called out to him. You were relieved to have brought him out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”
Jacaerys stopped in the middle of the stone corridor. Staring at you with those large brown eyes, he looked much older than his actual age. When someone as happy and bright as Jace became somber, it was always a reason to worry. Was Rhaenyra all right? Had he been listening to those awful rumors of his true birth?
“Ashi’,” he began, “what were you and Aemond discussing in the Godswoods’ Heart Tree?”
Ah, so that’s what this is about.
You inwardly grimaced as you realized how foolish you were to worry. With Aemond and Jace, it was always something one did to the other. And almost every time, it was up to you to stop their squabbling by being forced into the middle. You were not as blind as everyone in the castle liked to believe you were. You knew that both boys had an unhealthy attachment to you for whatever reason they conjured in their minds. Reasons that were only encouraged by their mothers.
You were still cross when they interrupted you and your mother’s reunion with your father. The matter was really very stupid. Jace had made fun of Aemond for not having a dragon during their family supper with the King. However, Jace only did so because Aemond and Aegon were snickering to themselves about how fat Princess Rhaenyra had grown due to her third pregnancy.
It didn’t make any difference to you, in all honesty. All you remembered from that time was that your time with your beloved father was forcibly cut short. To make matters worse, the two boys’ outbursts startled your mother, and the stress was so terrible that it nearly caused her to faint.
As a result, you decided not to speak to either boy for nearly two weeks. It had grown to the point where Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra practically begged you to forgive their sons—but even a royal command would not budge you. It did not matter how many blueberry tarts or honey cakes they gave for your forgiveness. You made it very clear that you would resolve never to speak to either boy unless they sincerely apologized to your mother for the awful fright they gave her. You finally resumed your friendship with them after your mother asked you herself to forgive them after Aemond gifted her a lovely bouquet of blue and purple hyacinths, and Jace gifted her a basket full of her favorite honey lemon cakes.
“Jace,” you groaned, “you cannot be serious.”
“Ashi’, you’ve been spending so much time with him lately. I feel like I don’t ever get to see you anymore.”
Rolling your eyes, you walked away from him as you sped up your pace to reach their destination. You only made it a few meters from where you were earlier before Jacaerys caught up to you and firmly grasped your wrist to keep you in place.
“I’m serious, Ashi’!” he insisted. “Unless it’s for fittings or when the Maester seeks your help teaching us High Valyrian, I rarely ever see you anymore!” His eyes had a wet sheen in the light, and his lip quivered slightly. “I miss you. Luke misses you. And so does Mother and Father!”
If the pitiful sight was enough to fill you with guilt, his next question nearly broke your heart.
“Do you – do you still consider me your friend?”
“Oh, Jace-” you pulled your younger friend into your arms “- of course I do. I’ve been so busy with my duties and my mother’s health. She and Princess Rhaenys have been so concerned over Lady Laena’s pregnancy and are trying to convince Prince Daemon to travel to Driftmark for the baby’s arrival.”
Jacaerys wrapped his arms around you, eager to feel your warmth. If the gods were kind, time would stop, and he and you would stay like this forever. But he became sad at the mention of his Aunt Laena. He had heard his father recount hundreds of stories of their time together at Driftmark in their youth. Jace knew his father missed his sister terribly, and he was sure she missed him the same.
You noticed your friend’s change in behavior. You looked at him with concerned eyes, and his heart began to race at your care for him.
“Oh, Jace,” you whispered, “have I upset you somehow? I did not mean to!”
Jace frantically shook his head. “No, Ashi’! I just wondered…do you think I’ll ever meet my Aunt Laena?” he softly asked. “Do you think she’ll like me? Can you tell me more about my cousins?”
You rolled your eyes at his request. He had yet to do so despite your advice for Jace to send a raven or two to his cousins. You hadn’t seen the twins for many years, but the three of you wrote to each other so often that it felt like you would recognize them by how they spoke alone.
“I’m sure she and your cousins will adore you, Jace. Baela is excited about her new sibling. She says she’s close to riding Moondancer! Once she gets big enough, she hopes to ride her with Rhaena!”
Jace wondered how you’d react if you knew he didn’t write to his cousins because he was scared they wouldn’t like him. To be honest, he didn’t really care about them at all. He only cared about the way you smiled at him, and only him, when he asked.
“Mother!”
Still seated at her dark-stained ebony-wood desk, Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen scribbled away with her black swan’s feather quill, nearly hidden behind stacks of dusty tomes and piles of scrolls from across the Seven Kingdoms and, despite being heavy with child, remained to be one of the most exquisite beauties across the realm. Hearing her eldest son’s voice, she looked up from her papers and smiled at the two children standing in her chambers' doorway.
“Jace! You made it and brought our little Lady Ashirri with you.”
You looked down at your feet as your cheeks slightly pinkened at the attention brought to you. Princess Rhaenyra was one of your mother’s closest friends and one of the few belonging to the noble houses that approved of your father’s rise in status. But his title was only in name, and so many in the keep look down on him with ill-hidden disdain. And as a result, many in the keep looked down on you with the same contempt and disgust.
The image of Lord Otto Hightower’s cold and judging eyes gazing down at you with arrogance came to mind before you could block it out.
You lifted your skirts and bowed in a deep curtsy in respect for Princess Rhaenyra. “Yes, my princess. Prince Jacaerys told me that you required my assistance with something?”
Princess Rhaenyra warmly smiled and laughed. “Yes. My husband seems at a crossroads in deciding which fabrics best suit his sister. Although, as you can see, he is being unnecessarily picky about it all.”
Her husband, Prince Consort Laenor of House Velaryon, stood beside your mother with his arms spread wide apart. On each arm were textiles of luxurious materials and superb stitching patterns. His close friend and confidant, Ser Qarl Correy, stood close behind him. The crown princess spoke truthfully as the entire room was filled with dozens of fabric bolts, from brilliant orange-marigold Dornish satin to iridescent light-azure Yi Tish silk. Your eyes were filled with excitement and wonder at the magnificent sight. You raced to touch the imported textiles.
“Is this silk truly from Yi Ti?” you softly whispered while carefully stroking the surface with one finger. “It looks almost too pretty to be real. This color would beautifully complement Lady Laena’s complexion and silver curls.”
Your mother and Prince Laenor smiled in agreement. It was softer than anything you’ve ever touched. Yi Tish silk was famous for its textile quality. One bolt was worth double your mother’s monthly wage at the Red Keep. The color alone was mastery at its finest. You knew from personal experience that blue was an incredibly tricky dye to handle. Although it was a primary color, it was rare in nature. You had to devote hours, if not days, to find the correct materials to yield the desired tone and shade properly. But that work is useless if the dye ends up damaging the fabric. Dark blue was one matter – it was still stunning, and many nobles would pay a hefty amount of coin for it. But to own such beauty, you wouldn’t dare imagine the price for a few yards, let alone an entire bolt.
“Fine eye as always, little lady,” Laenor jovially laughed. “Yes, I’m sure at least one of these fabrics will make a suitable dress for my sister before she gifts me another niece or nephew. I’m afraid your mother is very cross with me at the moment. Any delay in choosing the fabric will result in her being unable to finish the dress before the baby is born.”
“Lady Laena will need it to be loose and not so tight around her waist,” you spoke matter-of-factly. “Muña says that most pregnant women have rashes and inflammations after giving birth, so the dress must be made of a fabric that won’t cause irritation. Let’s see…excuse me for a moment?”
 You took out the small leather-bound journal Kepa gave you as a gift from one of his many voyages with Lord Corlys that you kept in your dress pocket, along with a small stick of charcoal. You drew out the image as quickly as possible whenever inspiration struck, regardless of the time or place. It was a habit that could lead to horrible misunderstandings, but being scolded and berated mattered little to you if it meant you could train yourself to be half as talented a seamstress as your mother.
After flipping past all your previous ideas, you finally spotted a blank page. Racing to your mother’s side for help, you excitedly shoved the journal in her face.
You thought aloud and drew out the concept simultaneously. “I think it should be blue. Even if Lady Laena married Prince Daemon, she is still a Velaryon by birth! Maybe if we chose a material that looks like water, it would make her feel closer to Driftmark and Lady Rhaenys!”
Doreah beamed from ear to ear as she crouched down and took you in a tight embrace. It filled her with such joy to know her daughter had developed such a tender and compassionate heart. You were a deeply empathetic girl who always considered the needs of others before your own. Her little pearl had a heart of gold that shone through the darkest storms. She planted a loud kiss on your cheek before letting you go.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my little pearl,” her eyes twinkled as she cupped your cheeks. “I have just the fabric in mind for it.”
Lady Doreah Pyke pulled out a large bolt of shimmering azure blue silk velvet. The rippled pattern and texture matched the transcendent and melancholy shores that surrounded High Tide. You gasped in delight at the sight of it. It was exactly the color you imagined! You gently caressed the hand-pleated panels, expecting it to feel crinkly and cheap despite its luster. But the fabric sheen and its soft, velvety texture made you want to wrap yourself with it like a warm blanket.
Your mother thoughtfully inspected the fabric. “Yes, this will be perfect. However, I think instead of a dress, it may be better to be used as a cloak. If the result is as beautiful as my little pearl envisions it to be, it would be a shame to be a dress for one lady. If it is a cloak, it can be passed down from mother to daughter.”
“An heirloom cloak…” you murmured in excitement. Your mother was a genius. “It sounds so romantic…the waves should be hand-painted and glass beads strung and stitched into the fabric. Oh, Lady Laena will look like a sea goddess! Would she like it enough to pass it down to Ladies Baela or Rhaena?”
Doreah chuckled at your delight and booped your nose. “She will love it, my darling – especially because you will be helping me make it.”
“A wonderful idea!” exclaimed Laenor. “Who better than our lovely Doreah and her little pearl to complete the task?”
“Really?” you gasped. To work beside your mother on such a prestigious project…was like a dream too good to be true. “Mother, do you…do you truly think I am ready?”
Jace jumped to his friend’s side to hug her. “Ashirri! This is wonderful! You and Lady Pyke will make the most beautiful cloak in the Seven Kingdoms - I know it!”
Rhaenyra and Laenor glanced knowingly at their son’s support for his dearest childhood companion. Everyone in the Red Keep knew of Jacaerys Velaryon's infatuation with Ashirri Pyke. If only the gods had allowed their stations to be so different. It seemed cruel to let two young souls meet and grow beside one another without the hope or possibility of love being borne.
You beamed at Jace with a brilliant smile that shone with so much radiance that looking at you felt nothing less than sin. You took his hand in yours as you squeezed his hand in silent thanks and appreciation for his words. In the young prince’s eyes, you were more heavenly than the Maiden herself. He hopes to be seen as strong as the Warrior in yours one day.
“Kirimvose, jorrāelagon raqiros,” you said in your mother’s native tongue, softly stroking your thumb on his skin as a rosy hue bloomed on Jace’s cheeks. “Muña, īlon līs jiōragon naejot mirre rȳ istin! Nyke jāhor sagon going ēlī!”
You were about to leave before stopping and tracing back your steps to bow to Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Consort Laenor quickly. Your cheeks were bright red from embarrassment from forgetting such basic etiquette.
“My princess, my prince, forgive me for not remembering to thank you for granting me this opportunity and forgetting to leave before you dismissed me. I was too caught up in my excitement. But, I swear that I will not let you down.”
The adults in the room shared amused expressions at your excitement. Ashirri Pyke’s transparent honesty and sweet nature were so refreshing to not only the Targaryen Princess and her prince consort husband but also the entire Royal Family. She was the perfect combination of her parents’ personalities. From Hotho, you adopted your father’s unwavering honesty and sense of justice. From Doreah, you were your mother’s copy in sweetness and purity. You were a highborn noble in all but birth and title.
Rhaenyra waved off your apology and nodded. “No need for apologies, little pearl. Run along. There is work that needs to be done, and your mother and I still have things to discuss between old friends.”
You pouted to hear that your mother would not be joining you. After all, this was a very important job, and you had hoped this would provide an opportunity to learn more of your mother’s secrets in her trade. But who were you to refuse a princess’ orders? You bowed once more before waving goodbye to Jace and everyone in the room before racing to your chambers. The disappointment you felt moments before was washed away by the jittering and buzz of your creativity rushing through your mind.
The waves would have to be hand-painted – that goes without saying. But should you paint silver instead of ivory for the sea foam? And did you have a steady enough hand to replicate each pattern perfectly? You were going to need a template to trace it.
You were going to need dozens if not hundreds, of beads ranging from violet to turquoise to teal. Were there any artisans in Kings Landing that could make such a large quantity? Were there any skilled enough to ensure the glass and crystals would yield such clarity and durability? You may need to ask Kepa if he made any glassmaker friends from Essos or the Free Cities.
Could you dip into your personal collection of sea crystals and pearls? Mother would be cross with you, but it would look so splendid against the fabric!
While racing down the many halls and past the flurry of chambermaids and squires, you came across Aemond. His trademark frown on his freckled face quickly turned to a kind smile.
“Ashirri! Mother wants to–”
But you did not have time to stop and quickly ran past him. You interrupted him with an apology.
“Usōven, Aemond! Yn issa muña se Dārilaros Laenor teptan mirros hen rōvēgrie import! Nyke emagon naejot jiōragon naejot mirre paktot qrīdrughagon!”
Aemond owlishly blinked before realizing you had spoken to him in High Valyrian. He took a few moments to mentally translate what you said before calling out your name and asking you to explain.
“Umbagon! Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?”
But when he turned, you were nowhere in sight, and he was left alone in the middle of the stone corridor. His shoulders slumped in deep disappointment at seeing you running away from him. But he supposed that such a slight could be forgiven since you were his loveliest and dearest friend. On the plus side, he was gifted with the sight of how the sunshine rays peering through the windows darted your glossy locks and wrapped you in a warm halo that brought out even more of your natural charm and prettiness.
As soon as you reached your room, you shut the door and grabbed every colored charcoal stick you’ve been gifted since you began learning your letters. Grabbing your big sketchbook, you immediately began jotting down your vision. By the time your mother joined you, your entire floor was covered with pages filled with a kaleidoscope of blues, greens, violets, and silver. Doreah was ecstatic of the display of your budding talent and took you in her arms for a tight hug.
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The next few weeks were the most thrilling of your young life. You would spend hours on end with your mother, going over and debating which colors would match the tone of the cloak. Your mother found out about your idea to incorporate your pearls in the stitching, and she gave you a lecture that put all her past scoldings to shame. Eventually, you relented. In truth, you were a tad reluctant to part with your pearls. Each pearl was a gift from your beloved kepa for each country he visited. He said it was his way of giving you a tiny part of the world to his little pearl.
Because you were so busy trimming and stitching, you barely had time to read with Aemond under the Heart Tree in the Godswood or watch Jace practice his sword fighting with Ser Harwin Strong. You and your mother could only be removed from the cloak when either Queen Alicent or Princess Rhaenyra ordered your presence. They often expressed their woes at your decreased presence in court. As a result, your mother would take small breaks to share tea with Queen Alicent to discuss your progress as a seamstress, or she would get called by Princess Rhaenyra to her chambers so that they may speak their most private thoughts and troubles in High Valyrian.
You would often escape their orders by spending time with Princess Helaena. She would sneak into your workspace to bring her own embroidery and ask for your guidance with the more intricate patterns. While most of the court found the second princess a bit…odd – you took to her presence like green to pink. The two of you greatly differed in personality, but that made your friendship with her all the more special. You always made sure to treat her with kind words and common courtesy.
The most rude you had been to her was when she showed you a massive spider in her hands, and you loudly shrieked before crawling under your bed as a reflex. It took a few minutes before you could rejoin her. When she asked if you liked to hold Gerald the Spider, you took your father’s thickest riding gloves before you went near the beast.
You only held Gerald in your palms a few moments before you cried and begged Helaena to remove him from your person. But despite the terrors you got from Gerald the Spider that night, it was worth it if Helaena could smile as happily as she had when you agreed. She was so pleased that she didn’t correct you when you called her by the nickname you made for her, ‘Hel.’ In fact, you were almost certain that the nickname made her happier than you holding the spider.
But despite the peace these past few weeks have brought you and your family, such joy was not granted to the rest of your friends. Trouble was brewing in the Red Keep for House Targaryen – a fact you were unaware of until much later. You were returning from the rookery after being notified of receiving a letter from Baela. She was so excited about the arrival of her new sibling. You were reading the letter until you heard soft cries in the library. Searching for the source, you were shocked to find Aemond crying in a secluded section of the Royal Library. Distressed at your friend’s tears, you immediately knelt and hugged him close to you.
Clinging to your arms like you were his anchor, you could only make out the words: ‘pig’ and ‘dread.’ When you voiced your confusion, Aemond explained once more.
“They gave me a pig!” he barked, wiping away the angry tears from his violet eyes. “They said they found a dragon for me, and it was a pig! The ‘Pink Dread’ they called it!”
You lowered his head to the crook of your shoulder. “Aemond, who’s ‘they’?” you softly asked.
“Aegon! Who else?” he exclaimed. Your simple linen frock muffled his yells. “My sister’s bastards were there, too!”
Your blood chilled. He couldn’t mean…Jace wasn’t…
“Aemond, you can’t say such things,” you warned. “It’s considered treason by your father’s laws.”
But Aemond wasn’t listening. “I hate those bastards. They shouldn’t carry the Targaryen name. Their last name should be ‘Waters.’ It’s the name that bastards born in the Crownlands carry. Northern bastards are called ‘Snow,’ ‘Sand’ for Dorne, ‘Flowers’ for the Reach–”
“‘Pyke’ for the Iron Islands,” you snapped and let him go. “Am I a bastard, Aemond? Am I what you hate? Do you hate my father?”
Aemond was shocked at your venomous tone. When he realized what he had done, he quickly tried to make amends.
He shook his head. “My pearl…no, no, no,” he said. “You aren’t a bastard. I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about–”
You clenched your fists and stood on your feet. “I know who you were talking about! That does not make it right!”
Aemond was getting angry. Why weren’t you taking his side? Had his whore of a sister already poisoned you against him? Had Jace already dirtied you with his filthy, bastard blood? He stood up and stared you down with fury in those beautiful violet eyes that you once so adored. But all you saw was his grandfather.
“Your father is a bastard,” he stated matter-of-factly. “He was a bastard from the Iron Islands that Lord Greyjoy didn’t want! He wasn’t worthy of his noble father’s house name, so he is named ‘Pyke’!”
You shook your head. “There is more to family than names and blood. I am neither a Targaryen nor a Velaryon. I do not carry a speck of your noble house’s blood, but I consider you and Jace my dearest friends! To me, you are my brothers! You and him are my family because I love you, not because of blood! Does that count for anything?”
“I never thought of you as a sister,” he spat out. “Not once did I consider you family.”
Devastation overwhelms your broken heart as tears flood your and Aemond’s eyes. He reaches out to hold your hand, but you step back. Once more, he tries to keep you closer to him, but you turn around and run to the door. When you reach it, he calls out your name and begs you to let him explain. Once more, you turn to face him to see he has not moved an inch. You feel so small and insignificant underneath the massive stone framework, but you summoned the sea of hurt and rage crashing inside your heart.
“I used to wonder how a horrible and mean-spirited man like Otto Hightower could be the grandsire of such a sweet boy,” your voice trembled, but you continued to steel yourself. “I thought…you were smart enough not to listen to such horrible things. I thought you were my friend. But I was wrong. I was so horribly wrong. What your brother, Jace, and Luke had done to you was cruel and unfair. But Aemond…what you had become…I-I don’t even recognize you anymore.”
With that being the final word, you raced to your mother’s chambers. You cried into her skirts and told her what happened – of the Pink Dread, Aemond’s cruel transformation, and the ruin of your friendship with him. You sobbed out your wish to leave the Red Keep and never return.
Doreah Pyke immediately thought of what Princess Rhaenyra had informed her in the afternoon. ‘Nyra told her that she would be moving her family to Dragonstone. Each day since her failed attempt to match Jace with Helaena, the Red Keep feels less safe and more hostile to her and her children. Since Harwin assaulted Ser Cole, tensions between the princess and the queen have reached an all-time high.
“Come with me,” her princess begged Doreah. “Come with my family to Dragonstone.”
“Oh, ‘Nyra,” whispered Doreah, “I don’t know. Dragonstone is so far from King’s Landing. And Ali would never–”
“Alicent is becoming more like her father each day,” Rhaenyra interjected. “She wants to put her son on my father’s throne – both she and her father are conspiring against me.”
Rhaenyra clasped Doreah’s hands in her own. “I know you want to believe she is the same girl from our youth. But Otto Hightower has sunk his poisoned claws in her and will stop at nothing to crown Aegon when my father passes. I need people I can trust by my side. People like you, my sweet Dory, and your husband.”
“…But Ashirri, my pearl,” sighed Doreah. “She will be so devastated. She grew up running in these halls, playing in the Godswoods, exploring this castle’s corners and shadows. This is her home.”
“Your daughter will flourish wherever she goes,” insists Rhaenyra. “She will never be alone – not with Jace, Luke, and Joffery by her side. And forgive me for what I am about to say, my friend, but…King’s Landing no longer agrees with you as it used to.”
Doreah sighed and gazed out the window with slumped shoulders. What her princess said was true but hard to hear. As she grew older, she found the air and noise outside the Red Keep more sour and rancid. It made her miss the clean and fresh sea breeze in Essos. Rhaenyra was not the only one who had noticed Doreah’s melancholy. Hotho, her beloved Iron Knight, has remained in King’s Landing after learning of her despondence. Her husband implores her to care more for her health – if not for herself, but their daughter.
Doreah waved off their concerns, but perhaps…they had a point. Stroking your hair to calm you down, your mother asked if you would be open to the possibility of moving to Dragonstone. She reassured you that she and your father would be there with you and that you would still be around Jace, Luke, and Joffery if you ever felt lonely.
You agreed before she finished and immediately started packing. By the end of the month, you had not spoken another word to Aemond and left with Princess Rhaenyra and her family to Dragonstone. You did not look back. You wanted to leave King’s Landing and Aemond as soon as possible. You wanted to leave this wretched castle and have peace once more.
While others stared at the obsidian castle with trepidation, you felt hope. Unpacking your things from your trunk and knapsack, you were determined to leave behind all the political headaches and focus solely on stitching with your mother and sailing with your father.
If only life could be that simple.
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Translations:
Muña - mother
Kepa - father
Kirimvose, jorrāelagon raqiros…Muña, īlon līs jiōragon naejot mirre rȳ istin! Nyke jāhor sagon going ēlī – “Thank you, dear friend…Mother, we must get to work at once! I will bet going first!”
Usōven, Aemond! Yn issa muña se Dārilaros Laenor teptan mirros hen rōvēgrie importance! Nyke emagon naejot jiōragon naejot mirre paktot qrīdrughagon! – “I am sorry, Aemond. But my mother and Prince Laenor gave me something of great importance! I have to get to work right away!”
Umbagon! Skoros gaomagon ao nūmāzma?” – “Wait! What do you mean?”
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Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @lady-ashfade , @axelsagewrites
Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist! Please like, comment, and/or reblog this story if you enjoyed reading it, and please share the link with anyone you think might enjoy it!
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House of the Dragon / Game of Thrones prompt list
I've finally made a prompt list for HotD and GoT! Please send requests 🐉⚔️🖤 The characters I write for are: Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Aegon II Targaryen, Jacaerys Targaryen, Jon Snow (see my pinned post for request rules)
‘’My blood is not noble enough for a prince.’’ 
‘’Why must you always hate me? Can't we unite for the good of our house(s)?’’
‘’I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you.’’
‘’This was no decision of mine.’’
‘’They used to chant my name, now they’re screaming that they hate me.’’ 
‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ 
‘’The idea of you getting hurt doesn’t sit well with me.’’
‘’I really thought I lost you.’’
‘’Where have you learned to do that?’’
‘’Are you courting me?’’
‘’Stay with me.’’ 
''Don't ignite a dragon's fire, you'll get burned.''
‘’Teach me how to make you feel good.’’
‘’I’m not used to this. Being a wife/husband.’’
‘’If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my head between your legs.’’
‘’This marriage wasn’t my choice.’’ 
‘’Be quiet. We don't want to get caught.’’
‘’I don’t want to marry my him/her, yet this is my duty my house.’’ 
‘’Why did it have to be him?’’
‘’The throne is mine! I will not let anyone take it from me.’’ 
‘’Love or duty. That is a choice I don't have the privilege to make.’’ 
‘’Our parents expect so much of us.’’
‘’Let me help you.’’
‘’My heart belongs to another, but my duty lies with our house(s).’’
‘’How could you betray me like this?’’
‘’I do not care about the suitors. I love you.’’
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career-affect-senior · 16 hours
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beentainted · 3 days
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aemond: why are you looking at me through a fork?
y/n: i'm pretending you're in jail.
aemond: why?
y/n: it's spiritually healing.
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uniquecroissant · 3 days
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@angeliod found it. It is "A lovers revenge" by @valaenatargaryensdragon, and it's with aegon not aemond my bad. Thanks to all who helped me try to find it.
I'm looking for a fanfic again. Maybe someone knows which fanfic I'm talking about.
So it's an Aemond targaryen x niece!reader fic. The reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra and has a child with aemond. In this fic, Rhaenyra wins, and she wants to execute aemond for the things he did at the same time her daughter is locked in a tower in which she can see aemonds execution. Her daughter(reader) doesn't want to live without aemond and drinks poison. Daemon finds her and calls for Rhaenyra from the window. The execution is stopped, and the reader can be saved. After that, aemond and reader reunite and aemond is (I think) released in a trial. I forgot the ending, and also, I'm not entirely sure if it was a fic here on Tumblr or on AO3 or something .
I would appreciate it if someone told me what this fic is called.
I will take this post down as soon as possible because I know how annoying it is when something like this is in an x reader tag when it's not a fic. And please excuse my English it's not my mother tongue.
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li0nn3stuff · 2 days
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You left Aemond on read.
English is not my first language, be kind.
Modern!Aemond x fem!Reader 
Part one: You and Aemond fought, so he invites at dinner another girl
Part three: Aemond apologies
Warnings: Kissing, almost smut
“Let’s meet up.”
“To talk.”
That was three days ago. I sigh and I put on my jeans jacket. Underneath it, I was wearing a nice black top, that wrapped my upper body so good, cutting my waist just on the right spot, and squeezing my boobs good enough to make them more visible, along with it, a nice tight black skirt, that reached down under my knees and a simple pair of black converse.
I’m hot. I think to myself as I look at the mirror. Nice and hot. Fuck Aemond.
I grab my purse and my phone, the keys to my place and get outside.
Yes, fuck Aemond. I repeat to myself, nodding slightly. He was just a douche. I sigh and I turn my attention to the beautiful day today was.
“Jesus, you’re giving me a headache!” he shouted, he was almost fuming. “How can you be this fucking stupid? Uh?!” He kept shouting.
A beautiful day. I smile and I walk down the stairs, looking forward to my date with Jason. Fuck Aemond. I am way more happy to go out with Jason. I walked down the street, going to the bar where I was supposed to meet Jason. I immediately spot him from this far. I force myself to not roll my eyes when I see him giving me a simple nod as a way to greet me.
“Hey.” I smile when I finally reach Jason. He smirks at me.
“Hey, sexy.” he says back. Why was it not pleasant to hear that from him?
Hey doll. Fuck. Him. I press my lips together and force a smile. Jason put his arm around my waist, leaving his hand hanging on my butt, ready to slip lower. It embarrassed me, how he unashamedly touched me. There were tables with families, Jesus. I pull away as soon as we reach a table, sitting in front of him.
Jason was… unique. He had his own way of doing things.
“You seriously think he just wants to be your friend? Or that he is actually interested in you? He just wants to take it back on me.” He looked at me, almost smiling as you do to a child who doesn’t understand. I hated that look.
“How much of a self centered person are you?! Are you even listening to yourself? Stop acting like a pick-me girl!” That got him. He just snapped.
“I was surprised to hear from you.” Jason snaps me out of my thoughts and I smile at him.
“What do you mean? We texted a bit before.” I force a chuckle, and get the attention of a waitress. I get a glass of wine as Jason gets a beer.
“No, I mean… when you asked me out. Never thought Aemond would have let you do it.” He huffs a smile.
“Aemond doesn’t tell me what to do.” I answer, happy to see my glass of wine coming, and taking a long sip from it.
“Of course.” he mumbles, laughing to himself. I raise my brows at him, already getting annoyed. I take a deep breath and smile.
“What does that mean?” I try to sound nice. Jason shakes his head, still chuckling.
“I mean, of course you don’t do what people tell you, you’re a woman.”
My grip tightens around the glass. I take a deep breath, followed by a long sip of wine.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but I’ll tell you it’s not sounding good this far.” I say. Jason chuckles and fixes himself on his chair, leaning more towards me and smirking at me.
“Then let’s change the subject, shall we?” He says in a flirting way. Jason was cute. He was more than cute, he was hot. Really hot. Objectively talking. I smile back and nod. Like it was that easy for me to forget what he just said.
“Let me just go to the bathroom, okay?” Jason nods, still with that smirk on his face.
I get up quickly and I head to the bathroom, rubbing my hand on my forehead, when I suddenly get grabbed by my arm and pulled at the end of the hallway of the bathrooms.
“Leaving me on read? The audacity of yours.” he growls. I look up confused and I find myself trapped between the wall and Aemond. I frown.
“Get off of me.” I say and I pull my arm away, and Aemond lets me go.
“The fuck were you thinking, uhm?” he keeps growling.
“None of your business.” I immediately get on defensive.
“Getting out with Jason? I specifically told you to stop everything with him, texting, talking, and that includes going out with him, obviously.” he towers over me, and I’m forced to lean my head back to look him in the eye.
“Does it look like I care?” I spit back. Aemond lets out a cold laugh.
“You never fucking listen, do you? No. Jason.” He says, pissed. I cross my arms to my chest, and I see Aemond’s gaze drift immediately to my boobs, then he looks away, some way more angry.
“The only reason why you’re here with Jason now it’s me. You had to prove something to me. Well congrats, you did it! Now let’s go.” He grabs me by my arm and starts dragging me behind him as he goes for the exit.
“That’s not true!” It was. “This is not about you!” It was. “You’re just a self centered idiot.” I say as I try to resist.
“Going somewhere, Targaryen?” Jason sees us from the table as we go for the exit. Aemond stops and takes a deep breath.
“Just bringing my girl home.” he answers coldly, with his usual expressionless face.
How could it be possible that Jason calling me “sexy” almost made me cringe, but Aemond calling me something simple as “my girl” made my heart flutter? God, it was annoying.
“Doesn’t look like she wants to.” Jason smirks. “Let her go. I’ll bring her to my place, I’m sure she’ll find it more entert-“
Before Jason could finish his sentence, Aemond already started walking towards him, but I grabbed Aemond by his arm to stop him.
“No! No, Jason, thank you for everything, really. I’ll see you around, okay? Bye.” I pull Aemond towards me, and drag him outside, where he quickly redirects me to his car, opening me the door and hushing me inside.
Once he gets inside he closes the door harshly and he grips the steering wheel tightly. His nostrils flare as he takes some deep breaths to calm himself. He then starts the engine, as I cross my arms to my chest, and I look outside. Even the radio was off. Fine. He wanted silence? He’ll get silence.
No way I would be the one to talk. He was the dick. He got angry over something stupid and he messed it up. Though, even if I was trying to ignore the tension in the car, it was getting impossible, so I moved my hand to turn on the radio.
“Don’t.” his voice is glacial, and it actually sends shivers down my spine. I sigh annoyed and go back to looking outside.
“I hope I made myself clear today. To you? Jason is dead.” he adds then.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” I answer back. Though, I wasn’t gonna ask Jason out again anyway, I didn’t really like him. He had too many filthy vibes, and not in a good way.
“Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn, uh? Why can’t you listen for once? Jesus, you're so annoying.”
“If I’m so annoying then why did you show up? Why am I in the car with you? Uh?!” I clench my hands into fists as Aemond clenches his jaw so hard that I almost think I’ll hear it crack.
“It would be nice to just have you listen to me sometimes.”
“Maybe I would have listened if you hadn’t insulted me.”
“You were being naive.” he says as he glances at me for a moment, then he goes back to looking at the road.
“And you think that’s an excuse?” I question. Aemond presses his lips together, as silence fills the car again. This time it is him that turns on the radio. Of course he knew I was right.
“I’m sorry.” he mumbles. I look at him surprised, with a hint of a smirk on my lips.
“You what?”
Aemond groans.
“You heard me. Don’t push it.”
“I didn’t hear you, I was listening to the radio.”
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I acted like a dick.” he sighs. “And that I insulted you. I didn’t mean any of it, I just… I really can’t stand Jason. He’s a douche and I know that he would just love to steal you away from me, and see me suffer because I would be jealous that he would be the one who gets to have you .”
I am actually stunned. I expected a better spoken apology, but this was… did he just talk about his feelings? I look down and then back outside. Aemond had always had me lower my barriers. I know how much it’s hard for him to talk about his feelings, or say that he cares for someone. It got me more than I thought.
“You’re still here?” Aemond glances at me.
“Yeah… okay. I guess you’re forgiven.” I say as I give him a little smile. He glances at me again and grins.
“Never wear that top for anyone else.” He says. I chuckle, knowing that this was his favorite top of mine, he appreciates how it just evidences my shape just perfectly. He drives us to his place, and as soon as he cloves the door after me he puts his hand on my neck and pulls me to him, kissing me passionately, deeply, slipping his tongue in my mouth, caressing mine. I moan and wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him close as his hands start roaming all over my body, ending up on my buttocks, that he grabs and squeezes hard, making me whine.
“Going out with another guy when you’re still mine, baby? That’s not good.” He slaps my ass making me gasp again. He bends and he puts his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up in his arms as he walks upstairs to his bedroom, kicking the door close with his foot. He lets me fall on the bed, and I try to sit up, but he pushes me back, unfastening his belt.
“On your knees.” he orders. I look up at him and I slide on the floor, getting on my knees in front of him as he looks at me. He uses one hand to unbutton his pants as the other caresses my cheek, I lean my head towards his hand, as his thumb passes over my lower lip, pushing it down.
“Let’s put this mouth to a better use, uhm?”
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prophecyofwinter · 3 days
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Across the Sea and to the East
Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader
Summary: Under your uncle’s usurpation of your brother you have been sent away to hide in Lys under House Rogare. You’ve found new purpose with the Lord of Light but you will be called home soon.
Tags: slight slow burn, actual burning, violence, smut, angst, Aegon is his own warning, tags will be added as we go.
Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 (Prologue)
Chapter 2: Aegon the Ever Persistent
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“Queen Alicent, may I borrow your ear for a moment?”
Larys Strong spoke up to Alicent when she entered her own chambers to find him there by himself. Rather a disturbed one he is.
Alicent looks around slightly perturbed but approaches nonetheless, taking the seat across from him and taking a deep breath before speaking.
“What is so important that it could not wait until tomorrow?”
“You had told me many many moons ago that if anything about Lady Y/N’s Death made its way through to come to you immediately, so here I am.”
Seven years ago Alicent had to inform young Aemond of Lady Y/N’s passing and he was inconsolable for days until he heard of her funeral and ran away on Vhagar to witness it himself.
When Aemond arrived back he was beyond bewildered, Alicent didn’t even have time to yell at Aemond before he said.
“He did something to them…”
Your uncle had attempted to prevent him from even peeking at your burial, telling him to go home before he gets Winterfell in trouble for housing a runaway Prince. With his little boy strength he pushed through your uncle and his sons to see, nothing, there was nothing in the casket. Any Targaryen-born person would know well enough that even bones would still remain after a little fire like that.
He had been rushed away and all but kicked out of Winterfell.
He begged his Mother to punish your uncle for it must’ve been his fault. She told him she couldn’t do anything as there was no proof he had done anything to you or Cregan.
Alicent mentioned to Larys in passing to tell her if anything regarding you was mentioned through his web of spies.
7 years later, she’d honestly mostly forgotten about that interaction.
“…What is it?”
“House Glover has personally sent two Direwolf pups to Lys for House Rogare.”
“So? Lysandro probably got the taste for exotic pets, or one of his children wanted a dog.”
“Don’t you find it, a small coincidence that Lysandro Rogare adopts a child slightly after the ‘death’ of Lady Y/N? And coincidentally receives two Direwolf pups from Y/N’s mothers house? House Rogare has been wanting to stick their hand in Westerosi politics for years before this.”
“I suppose, but, what do I do with this? I can’t tell Aemond. He’ll run off to Lys like he ran off to Winterfell.”
“It is no matter to me, I simply told what you wanted me to tell. And do not worry, this information is free.”
Larys takes his leave and slowly makes his way out of Alicents chambers leaving her to dwell with this knowledge.
Alicent takes a deep breath to think, closing her eyes and restarting her old habit of picking at her skin, but as a Queen, a Wife, and a Mother. There truly is no real rest.
“Aemond will be thrilled to know won’t he? Let me tell him.”
A joking voice comes from the chair in front of the lit fire, Aegon. That little shit.
“What are you doing here?! Do I get no privacy even in my own chambers?!”
“Whattt, I like coming into your chambers. I like the ambiance, Mother. You know what, I’ll go tell Aemond right now. He should be at the training grounds at this time-“
Aegon was cut off by a cut through the air with a slap. Alicent has stricken her eldest once again, oh how he drives her there so fast. She tries to keep the peace between her children, yet Aegon is always stirring the pot.
“You will not be telling Aemond of any such thing! You will not have him on a wild goose chase after a dead girl! Do not give him hope! You have tormented your brother enough! And for Sevens sake get the hells out of my chambers Aegon!”
For the one time in moons Aegon is sober for an hour, it's when Alicent needs him to be drowned in his sorrows.
Aegon puts his hand on his burning cheek and turns with his tail between his legs to no doubt run to the taverns and whore houses.
Though Aegon always has had a loud mouth, especially when drunk.
—————————
Aemond attempts to sit in peace and quiet as the storm outside rages on. Rain tends to make his eyeless-socket ache, so he blows out all the candles and lays back to let the pain take its course for the night. If no one else bothers him for the rest of the night-
“Aemondddddddddddd!!!!!!”
Maybe if he pretends that he isn’t in his chambers-
“Aemondddddd I know you’re in thereeeeee!!!!!!!! It’s your big brotherrrrrrr!!!!!!!!”
Aegon the ever persistent is what they’d call him if he was King…
Aemond sighed and put his eyepatch on but left his sapphire to soak in a goblet of water. Sometimes he could out wait Aegon if he was drunk enough but the night is still young…
Aemond opens his chamber doors and instantly moves out of the way to let Aegon fall onto the floor in the doorway. Aegon climbs to his feet stumbling here and there but making it to Aemonds chair.
“What do you want brother?”
“I have a little tiny little- um secret from mother, but!- you can’t tell Aemond because mother told me not to tell Aemond so you can’t tell Aemond or mother will get mad at you for telling Aemond, alright Aemond?!”
What in the seven hells is wrong with this boy? Aemond did not like not knowing things, and it would not be his fault for letting Aegon ramble on…
“Alright, I promise not to tell Aemond anything.”
“Great! I would have dieddddddd without telling someone this! I-I overheard mother talking to Larys about that little Stark girl you fancied when we were kids. He told herrrrr that she might still be alive in, get this! Lys with House Rogare! Can you believe that?! Bet she’s a real beauty now… yes…”
Aemond felt his blood rush cold and his body couldn’t move, not once in his life had he been unable to think, unable to speak…
“Aemond? Where did you go? Are you even listen-“
Aemond couldn’t bear to hear Aegon speak another fucking word, he grabbed the elder boy by the face to shut him the hells up.
“Are you sure that’s what you heard Aegon? Are you so certain you’d bet your life that she’s alive?!”
“Well thatsssss a bit of a stretch for a girl that I do not care for but…”
Gods he is fucking insufferable, but if that meant Y/N was alive… he would bear through his drunken rambles… His mother wanted to keep this from him?
“Why did mother keep this from me- I mean Aemond.”
“Well- you know how Aemond got when her Uncle buried her, he ran away and got his arse locked out of W-Winterfell…”
“Ae- Aegon!”
Aegon started falling asleep in Aemonds chair, once he fell asleep it was near impossible to wake him up. Aemond didn’t want his drunken brother throwing up on his floors.
“I’m up! Well, look at the moon, the night is still young I have to get back out, whores won’t fuck themselves. I have to pay them to do that.”
Aegon hoists himself out of the chair, surprisingly keeping his balance and giving Aemond a big pat on the chest. Not before taking a big gulp of the goblet where Aemond soaks his eye-sapphire in.
“Disgusting, your Wine tastes like water… Where did you get ice at this time of year?”
As quick as he comes he’s gone again. Leaving Aemond baffled and dumbfounded but with a new sense of purpose nonetheless.
If you were in Lys, he has to know, he must know, if it’s the last thing he ever does.
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randomdragonfires · 8 hours
Text
Take Me Down To The River, And Bathe Me Clean [One Shot]
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Text Divider by @saradika-graphics
SUMMARY | The Gods have sent her for him, and he'll have her if it's the last thing he does.
WARNINGS | 18+; Canon AU; Smut; Heavy Religious Themes; Obsession.
WORD COUNT | 10.1k
A/N | Another one of my older stories, because @toms-cherry-trees reminded me of this one! This was originally beta-read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs.
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She walked in sin, and had him in a trance.
A lowly servant girl, that was all she was. If he had been in his right mind, he would have never noticed her; never given her the time of day. Dragons did not spend their time entertaining sheep - especially in a time of war, when there were many and more important things to attend to.
The blood of the dragon ran hot, and his had boiled when he saw her for the first time. They said murder and bloodshed turned men into insatiable monsters and opened the doors to affluence for whores - of course, somebody had to draw benefit from the lust that came from making it out alive from battle. The men thought the cunts they got to sink their cocks into were their reward for victory; in truth, they had lost to women who made good use of war-tainted fools’ hot-headedness and filled their pockets with gold.
Aemond was different, however. While men spent their nights with women who screamed loud enough to keep every surrounding soul awake, he had taken to keeping away from sins of the flesh to keep himself in the light of the Gods. In the faint whispers of firelight, Aemond Targaryen would pore over war strategy and books of politicking, history, philosophy and diplomacy - that was when he was not reading passages of the Seven-Pointed Star, to give himself some sort of comfort during uncertain times of war.
He was a kinslayer already. He had to work doubly hard to appease the Gods now. He was a warrior and a Prince through and through, and he knew better than to give in to carnal desires that would mean next to nothing to him in the face of the lessons of the Gods that he had been taught. 
And then, she happened. She had walked in moonlight, and she had been sin incarnate.
On his first night as Prince Regent, he informed the maidservants to keep the candles burning in his study at the library, so he could continue to ponder over strategies to proceed in the fight for the throne. He had walked in while struggling to keep up with the pace of his thoughts, his calculated decisions seeming wrong at every turn and terribly in need of further thought. With his hands held behind his back so tightly that they would have gone red, Aemond walked to the private library where his study was set up - and she had been there.
He did not know if he had seen her before. He did not know if she had attended to him earlier, or if she was new to the Keep. All he knew was that she had been bent over a candle, the low light of which had given him a warm view of her soft face and the breasts that threatened to spill out of her tight servant maid’s dress. Her loose braid had fallen over her shoulder as she shielded the fire with her hand from the night air, and he watched her as she had looked at the flame intently, hoping it would keep.
With her shy little eyes and sharp nose, pouty lips, and nimble hands, she had Aemond’s attention completely, his mind already swirling with thoughts of her, of who she was, of what he could do to her.
Aemond’s very heart felt like it had been knocked down to his gut, with how heavy it was at the sight of her. There was a sense of unease about the slow loss of bearings in him, a feeling that he did not know what to make of. Illuminated by candlelight, she was the loveliest sight he’d ever known - almost divine, like a gift from the Gods themselves.
He could have her if he wanted to; burn her if he wished. He was a Targaryen Prince, now the solemn ruler of the realm - what was he, if not the living personification of fire itself? His peculiar thoughts threatened to give way to those of a sinful nature, and Aemond was painfully aware of it both in the chaos of his mind and the tightening of his trousers.
Through his hazy one-eyed gaze, worsened by the dim darkening of the night, he watched as she tilted her head ever so slightly. It took him by complete surprise how her neck called for him, for his touch. All he wanted was to run his fingers over the newly exposed skin from jaw to collarbone and squeeze her neck in his firm hold; just enough for her to feel his strength and burgeoning desire, but not so much that she’d beg to be let go of.
In the Hour of the Wolf, illuminated by the bright candlelight, Aemond Targaryen had seen the lowly servant girl for the very first time. And the moment her eyes had met his one violet orb, he knew he would never be able to let her go.
“Your Grace,” she murmured; whether it was in reverence or fear, he did not know. What he did know was that he enjoyed the respect from her, just as much as he did watching her bow down to greet him, giving him an ample view of her chest once more. Her voice was an almost quiet, tired one - one that might have belonged to a woman who would choose to stay quiet and unseen if she could manage it.
It was the nature of servants to put the wishes of the royal family above their own - so, of course, even if she wished for quiet, she would have to open her mouth and greet him with the respect that was his due. 
So far, she hadn’t disappointed him. She gripped the sides of her skirts while she waited for him to give her leave, and he wondered how far he could take this little game that he had begun to play. Would she be a willing participant in this dance of theirs that he had wanted to partake in with her? Would she put his needs above her own? Or would he have to bend and break her to have her?
“Continue,” he said, in a harsh tone that masked the growing curiosity in him. Who was this girl that had managed to capture his attention so effortlessly? Would she be warm to the touch like fire that she covered with her hands, or cold like the ice in his wine? Who was she? What was she?
He was a devout follower of the Faith, and was very well apprised of the punishments for indulging in sins of the flesh. He also knew that it would take an otherworldly grip to pull and lead him astray, and to his disappointing yet exciting realisation, he was sure that she had gained that power over him in a matter of moments - like nobody else ever had before.
If he had felt unease at how easily he had found himself willing to give in, he hadn’t bothered with it right then. Somehow, he had known that she had been worth it.
He took his seat at his chair by the desk - his scrolls, parchments, correspondence, and books already laid out for him. She had quietly walked over to the shelves with a dusting cloth in hand and had begun cleaning the older books on the shelves within his line of sight.
He watched from the corner of his eye, all the while trying his best to read from the book in hand. But his efforts had been in vain, of course. How could he have won, when sin herself was tempting him from across the chamber? How could he, when she was right there, mesmerizing him with every movement of hers?
If he hadn’t been so caught up with the voices in his mind, he would have seen her watching him from the corner of her eye and smiling, ever so slightly. Only a moment, and she had disarmed him. Sin was dangerous - and he now knew how.
Her mere existence had left him defenceless against her effortless pull toward him, and the notion that she had not even intended to hold his eye like this and yet still had - she so very much had - only worsened the weakness creeping up on him. 
He was not Aegon. He was not the rake who dishonoured powerless women over a moment’s weakness. He was not the man who seeded women who were not worthy of his blood. He was not the man who indulged in sin. And yet, as he had watched her curious eyes trying to make out the titles of the books she wiped, the fear of becoming that man grabbed him by the throat.
Those who indulged in sins of the flesh were cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells - and no pretty face was worth that fate, no matter how ethereal she seemed to him. No Targaryen would suffer that fate - he was the blood of the Conqueror; he would not be anything less than ideal. He would not be the first to slip and sin.
So why did he find himself rising from his seat and walking towards her? Hands held back and his breathing even and steady, Aemond watched as she stilled, cognizant of his presence as his dark shadow fell over the shelves in front of her. She did not turn to see him or try to run.
She froze with her eyes fixed on his unsteady, dark shadow, and he enjoyed the nervous beads of sweat that began to form on the nape of her neck, right below where the stray hairs of her braid fell haphazardly. She swallowed, and Aemond's eye followed the slow bobbing of her throat with great intent. 
Was she fearful? If yes, she would have had every right to be. He certainly was afraid - of being carried away by sin.
That was all she was. Dirt and sin, both of which he should stay cleansed of. And yet, his hands moved of their own accord - the tip of his thumb wiped away the beads of sweat forming on her skin, drop after drop. Her breath hitched in her throat in surprise as gooseflesh arose in the wake of his touch and the warmth of his breath, and Aemond could not help the cutting smile that graced his lips then.
Could he conquer sin? He did not know. But he wanted - oh, he so wanted - to learn. And if there was one thing he truly enjoyed, it was learning. With that singular thought in mind, he moved her face by the chin to the side - giving her a view of his unmarred side if she wished for it.
She looked straight ahead, making no attempt to look at him. His hand was yet to leave her chin; if anything, his grip had only gotten tighter. In close proximity, he saw the way her hair curled on her sweat-dampened skin; the way her breasts heaved as she took in laboured breaths to calm herself down as a Prince of the realm touched and held her in his tight grasp.
Aemond’s thumb lazily caressed her jaw and lower lip, fingers holding onto her like she was a startled little fawn who would run if he let her. In close proximity, the swell of her backside grazed his clothed bulge for just a moment - enough to drive him mad with want and take a step back. But even then, he did not let go.
How could sin manage to look so innocent? How could she remain so ignorant of what she was doing to him?
Those who committed sins of the flesh would spend the entirety of the afterlife making their way through the dark expanses of the Seven Hells, and she… she was a test of will. The Gods had clearly sent her to test him, for why else would he have been so easily swayed by a pretty face?
“What do they call you?” He rasped into her ear, while she, to his utter shock, lifted her lips up slightly - enough to send his senses into action. She smiled like she knew the realm's biggest secret, and wouldn't tell anyone until she'd let it unfold a bit for her own amusement.
All of a sudden, there was no chasm, no oceans to separate them - all that they had between them was a slight fraction of space, just enough to breathe. His nose brushed her earlobe and she hissed - if he had not been close to her, he would have missed it.
Her name tumbled out of her lips in faint song-like whisper - a voice made to seduce - and Aemond was convinced that she was some sort of otherworldly creature - a siren, or a fey. Her voice went straight to his cock, and his eagerness was evident as it hardened. She was yet to make even a slight movement - every part of her remained still, and if she were not breathing, he would be convinced that he had killed her with the forwardness of his actions.
His hands reached down to her neck, and he continued down as he traced a path down the soft skin of her arms with the tips of his fingers. His hands reached hers, and he pried her fingers apart, allowing him to intertwine his with hers. He guided their joined left hands to wrap around her waist, and her eyes followed his movements as her head hung low.
The laces of her worn-out brown dress called for his fingers to run through them. The sight was the most inviting one he ever knew, and he let go of her other hand to let his finger work through the first loop. He gulped at getting to see a new plane of her body - it was a very small patch of newly won skin, but it had made his mouth water and mind race nonetheless.
He wondered what it would be like if he simply swooped in, pushed her braid aside, and planted his lips right there, but Aemond managed to hold himself. Would she push him away, or would she welcome him and encourage him to work his way through the second loop? Would she let him go further down her back until his mouth reached the swell of her backside?
His calloused fingertip tapped the skin under the newly removed loop on her back once, twice, thrice. The gooseflesh that arose and the audible gasp she let out felt like the biggest victory Aemond had ever known.
He decided then that if he were going to conquer sin, he would do it looking her in the eye. After all, Princes had to be honourable - and it was not honourable to approach prey from behind.
He turned her around, and she was quick to take a step back - her back hit the old wooden shelf behind her, and he towered over her, his presence a looming threat to her virtue as one of his hands rested on the side of her head, while the fingertips of the other grazed her neck. He drew his face closer to her, and her breath hitched, and he was infinitely amused by what her thoughts right now could be.
He pulled her face up by the jaw, and now she was forced to look at him - he expected to see fear for her modesty, nervousness for her virtue, and shame for her birth and station, which took away her agency when being held so close by a Prince.
He had not expected to see eyes that matched his own fire. Was he hallucinating, or was she truly holding her own against him in silence? He did not know. But what he did know was that meeting her vision from up close had stunned him. From where he was, he would have been able to count the number of lashes on each eyelid if he so wished - and it was that realisation that broke his reverie and made him draw back.
Sin and shame. He had to be far removed from both, and yet, he had almost allowed himself to be drowned in them. Near where she had stood, he had seen the bound books on the shelves. With his one eye, he had made out the title of The Seven Pointed Star, and he awakened - as though he had been doused with ice-cold water.
How quickly had he been drawn toward her? How easily had he almost given in to temptation? His first night as Prince Regent, and he had already teetered close to sin, dancing at the edges of Seven Hells as the Gods’ most tempting offering had lured him in.
“Leave.” His voice, hoarse from being in close proximity to her, had carried through the air but seemed to have failed to reach her. It seemed as though she had been looking through him, past him, and his words had fallen on deaf ears. She had seemed to be in thought as she ignored his grunt, as though she was waiting for him to take his words back and ravish her right then.
He expected to loom over her, to engulf her - he had not considered that she might perhaps seek to do the same thing to him. The thought of being controlled or met by an equal unnerved him like nothing else ever had.
So he repeated himself and held his hands behind his back, waiting for her to follow his command and swallowing the spit that had collected in his mouth. She quickly picked up her rag from the shelf and had gathered her skirts, eyes downcast and flitting about in confusion and shock.
If he looked closely, he might have noticed a slight knowing smile - one that indicated that this was far from over.
She bowed to him, eyes confident - she said much and more with her eyes, he found - as though his hands had not touched her only a few fleeting moments prior. She made away into the corridors - out of sight, but certainly not out of mind.
He let go of breath that he didn’t know he had been holding only when he had heard the definitive slam of the doors following her exit.
He who holds his own against temptations of the flesh would hold infinite power and control over his senses, the Holy Book had said.
His one eye trained over the spine of the Seven Pointed Star, and he sighed. He had looked sin in the eye and won tonight, resisting his urges. But given how she had plagued his thoughts so strongly even after running away, how long would it be before he gave in?
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Aemond Targaryen was not a man of depravity.
He was not a man of sin. And yet, it was terrifying to him how he very easily could be whenever he was even remotely in her presence.
It was maddening how gooseflesh arose on his skin even when she was farthest away from his vision, blocked by many others who were positioned closer to him. His palms would become drenched just at the sight of her skirts billowing as she took a turn, without even having seen her face or body. Just the mere sight of the edge of her skirts was enough to drive him mad with want; and want her, he did.
On some days, he would have to sit with his hands held together tightly at the supper table while she served the food, if only to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing her hand. His heart beat loudly and heavily in a steady thump, thump, thump - so definitive, he wondered if his family could hear it at the table.
What was worse was that she knew. She knew the maddening effect she had on him. Her lips curled up just slightly at how his eye would flit to her chest while she bent down to pick up his plate from the table. After dinner, before he could catch her and keep her in his hold, she would be gone. Regardless of the time of day, he sought her out like a moth to a flame. It did not matter where he was; it was always her that he wanted.
The shame of being driven with want for her touch - a mere servant girl’s touch - had taken over him, consumed him entirely. It spread through him faster than wildfire ever could, and hit him like a well-aimed arrow through to his heart. Only a week ago, he had been swirling with thoughts of battle and regency.
On one particular day, he had caught her tending to the gardens while walking in the corridors of the Red Keep. It was instantaneous how he immediately managed to make out her form even from far away. He stepped closer to the railing and watched with a stoic expression on his face and yearning in his mind, still completely befuddled as to what this servant girl had that had pulled her to him in an instant.
Soon enough, the girls who were with her had dispersed, and she’d waved them goodbye before going back to kneeling down next to the bushes, taking good care to not damage the roses as she dug out the mud.
Hands caked with dirt, possibly. The idea should have repulsed him, but the thought of her placing those very hands on him and tracing a muddy path down his chest knocked the very breath out of him in an instant.
Each day in the following week was torture for him - catching glimpses of her in pieces, in fragments, but never entirely and never enough to properly see her. Each sighting of her skirts, her hair, or her back was a moment on its own, frozen in time. She’d taken good care to make herself scarce, so much so that he worried.
Had he frightened her with his forwardness? Did she fear him? Wanting her was supposed to bring her closer to him, but it seemed to him that all it had done was push her away, oceans apart.
It killed him - how his mind, heart, and soul sang for her, a siren song so rich in wanting that it would leave nothing but destruction in its wake as he sought her out - and yet, she hadn't met his eye after that night when she’d run away from him, but she smiled.
He remembered clearly the way his fingertip had grazed the slightly exposed skin of her back; the way her breath had hitched when his fingers ran over her neck, and how she’d frozen for a moment when she felt his warm breath on her. And her voice - gods, her voice - he kept her name and her voice running through his mind like a desperate prayer, as though it was the only word that would bring him salvation from all the sins that he’d committed.
He remembered the slight upward curve of her lips, almost as though she was challenging him to go further. He thought about her all day, every day - and yet, it seemed as though it was never enough.
When this game of hide and seek had become too much for him, he’d take to the comfort of the night to relieve himself in the privacy of his bedchambers. He knew it was a sin to touch himself and spill into his own hand - but if he had to commit a negligible error to keep himself from committing a grave sin, like taking her no matter how much he wanted it, he would have to.
Aemond spent his days thinking her name, and his nights voicing it out in moans, grunts, and gasps as he let his hand work his painfully hard cock. Each time he pleasured himself, he remembered how her hands felt against his own - he imagined those hands on his cock, stroking each vein of his back and forth until he had himself drowning in pleasure, with white-hot spend spurting all over his hands and stomach. He imagined her hands coated with his seed.
She was an enthralling beauty. Calm, but with tempestuous eyes. Quiet, but with a flame to match his own. He'd hold a torch for her forever if that's what it took. He wanted her like he’d wanted nothing else.
His eye would remain closed throughout - the irony of his eye having to be closed for him to properly see her now did not escape him. It was a need, to be able to have her in some shape or form - almost as though he was at the edge of his body, and she was the only one who could save him from losing himself.
He imagined her face resting on his chest, her breasts pressed onto him. Her hands on his cock, his down her skirts. He’d let his mind take him all the way, and each time he spilled onto himself, he drove himself mad with more want - it was a vicious, endless cycle. He continued until he tired himself out and went to sleep, his last word of the night always being a faint and needy whisper of her name as he wondered what it would be like if she was sharing his bed, his heart, his life.
The shame would engulf him soon after he woke, and he’d grit his teeth at how the gods had chosen to play him. If they wanted him to be righteous and good, why put her in his path? If he was meant to resist her, why make her irresistible? Why play him for a fool? The unanswered questions, those that sound like he had been screaming into a well, gave way to a gigantic lump in his throat.
What she’d made of him - this pathetic, needy, pining mess of a man - could not stand for much longer. If he had to throw himself at the feet of the Seven and beg for penance, for absolution, for peace and quiet - he would. He would do it a thousand times over. He hated that he loved the feeling of wanting her. He was lost on what he could possibly do with the emotions creeping onto him through his blood as he pondered over the contrast.
With his intent and goal clear in mind, Aemond walked to the Royal Sept. He decided that he would fall at the Father’s feet, beg for mercy in his judgement, and pray to be forgiven. He would apologise to the Mother for playing host to foul and sinful thoughts that should have had no place in the mind of a Prince. He would leave himself at the mercy of the Maiden and make his shame known for wanting to defile a woman who’d done nothing but go about her duty. 
She was there, bent down on her knees at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, praying. She was right in front of him.
The Sept was empty, save for him and her. Aemond’s hands went to his back quickly, and he managed to stop moving his feet to silence the clicking of his boots. He watched her intently, fiercely, unnervingly.
He may have come to the Sept as a pathetic man wanting to give the Gods their due for his sinful indiscretions, but her presence had immediately taken him to who he was a week ago on the fateful night when he met her - a starved man who was mad with desire for her.
There was something to be said about how he’d come to the Sept ready to beg for forgiveness - only for the pathetic thoughts to become a distant memory as she invaded his mind once more. He was a hunter with a primal urge again.
Hot, ready, and absolutely ravenous, ready to stake out his prey - with her knees bent and her face unassuming as she let the comforting and safe feeling of the Sept take over her, she had no idea what dangers to her virtue the man stealthily standing behind her posed.
But Aemond did. He mapped out every inch of the skin that he could and could not see from where he stood, and he knew exactly how he wanted to touch, enjoy, and worship every inch of her. From where he stood, the entirety of her looked so small that she could have fit into his one hand. He closed his fist at the thought of holding her tight and watched.
The light from the stained glass windows reflected and fell around her in a bright ring of fiery orange and light rose, and she looked lit from within as the light illuminated and surrounded her. She may be wearing an old, worn-out servant maid's dress - but in the divine light of the Sept, surrounded by all things holy, she was nothing less than a goddess to Aemond.
Standing at the foot of the statue of the Maiden, she was a Goddess he wanted to claim; in mind, heart, and soul. The Maiden had fallen from the skies and had taken to taunting him with her beauty.
In the light, all he saw was her. Everything around her had vanished, and she was all his vision could register. It was almost as though the Maiden was offering her to him, asking him to indulge, rewarding him for all his years of obedience.
Everything fell into place, and all his thoughts made sense. She was sin, but she was the reward too - perhaps knowing that already was the reason why she had smiled. Only she was visible to him in a grand Sept adorned with many religious relics - a clear sign that she was all he was meant to see.
How could he not have her? He’d spent years being the obedient son, the good son. He’d spent years studying the blade, learning the histories of his realm and the philosophies. He made sure to be the ideal son his mother wanted, and now he was a Prince Regent of Westeros. A powerful man within his own right.
And all his time being good had finally led him to her - a sinful indulgence. And if he had earned the power he had, he had earned her too. She was his, and soon he would make it known - to her and to the damned Gods. He would make them all watch from above - all the Gods, the Old, the New, the foreign ones and his Valyrian ones - as he worshipped her in their place, as she usurped them in his world. She would be a goddess, and he, a devoted, starving, and humble man - on his knees for her.
He glanced over at her and then at the Seven statues one last time before walking away, his coat flying sleekly behind him as she finally finished her prayers and turned around. He forgave her for consuming him, his thoughts, and invading his very being. His hand stretched out and laid floating mid-air, reaching out for a girl who had not yet sensed his presence.
In the distance, as a second son walked away with his mind made, the young servant maid’s ears picked up the hauntingly familiar, fading sounds of his boot-clad purposeful gait. The candle she lit at the Maiden’s feet melted away, the sight making for something ethereally beautiful in the bright light.
She walked away soon after, and did not notice as the flame sputtered, faded, and went out.
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Aemond Targaryen was a man starved.
This game they played, this push and pull, was enough to drive a disciplined and restrained man like Aemond to his wit’s end. His nights became longer as he stayed up to pleasure himself and moan out her name until the entire corridor heard it; his days became longer in her absence too, as he stayed alert, trying to find her in some corner or another. This dance that they paired up for was an absolute tease - he always found himself reaching out for a hand that did not fall into his grasp, one that he missed by a fraction of space each time.
She would walk into a corner and be gone before he could catch sight of her; he spotted her braided hair in a sea of heads from the dias once, but he could not keep up as the servants moved to work. In the library, in the corridors, in the gardens, in the common rooms - he’d missed her narrowly everywhere.
He had always been a man who worked for what he had. His dragon, his sword skill, his intelligence, his fearsome reputation - Aemond worked hard to earn every single one of his known traits, and as was the natural order of things, he was made to earn her too. It made his patience run out slowly and swiftly - but he did not give up. He would not.
An offering from the Gods was never simply handed over - there are many trials and tribulations to be faced first. And in his case, it would mean finding her first.
One fine day, he did.
He had seen her enjoying herself. She held a basket of dirty clothes to be taken to wash, and her companion was hidden by a wall. Aemond knew that pursuing her right here, despite every bone in his body wanting to, would not be a good idea - he could not afford to be found lusting after a serving girl with such intensity.
But he could stay around for a while and hear her speak. He did love her voice - the hold her siren song had on him in each waking moment was absolutely crushing, and he’d let it take him.
He stood out of sight and heard her talking about the Holy Day festivities out in the city, and when he heard the voice of her companion, his blood ran cold. A man - she had been speaking to and entertaining the company of a man. She was giving him her laughs freely and her company with nothing in return - laughs and time that should have been his.
Her lips curled up in the most captivating way, and it hurt and angered Aemond to think that it was not meant for him. He once again heard the man speak about taverns and dances happening all night on the day of, and Aemond’s hand clutched the hilt of his dagger. 
"Vaogenka Andali," he seethed. [Andal scum]
It would be so easy, so simple to rip his throat out right now. He could easily kill him and take her, claim her right there as the man watched Aemond take her in every possible way with his dying breath. He would do that to every man who dared to meet her eyes and put himself in her path, for he was the only one with the right to behold the sight of her.
Sin of course, was a common temptation. No wonder everybody wanted to partake. No matter. She was his. And judging by her next words, it seemed that she knew it too.
“Apologies, I’m already spoken for.”
His hold on his dagger loosened as his mind and heart caught up with her words.
He loved the push and pull of this sinful game they played, and it seemed that she did too. His smile was harsh and cutting, dripping with victory and pride at knowing that his want for her affections was uncontested. He slowly slinked away, and completely missed how she leaned her head back at the sound of his boots, only to spot his silver hair in the distance.
He missed her sly smile once more.
That night, her words ran through his mind over and over as he imagined her whispering sweet nothings in his ear while letting him slip his cock into her cunt, The mental image of her wanting, moaning and at his mercy while he fucked into her mercilessly had sent a shivering bolt of pleasure to his spine. It was the sight of her looking up at him and batting her lashes innocently that did it for him, and sent him careening to his peak.
On the seventh day of the seventh moon, a day considered holy for the New Gods, the prayers at the Royal Sept were to happen late in the morning in the presence of the royal family and the courtiers. Aemond had to make an appearance in the beginning as his mother welcomed those of the court and noble houses, and so he stood, with his hands held behind his back, trying to spot a familiar face amidst the throngs of people who had gathered.
There are very few serving girls around, she was not there. Where would she be?
Aemond took his leave, and he watched as the High Septon took his place at the front and led the proceedings. He walked out of the Sept through the backdoor, with the faint and dull sounds of prayer running through his ears as he remained within earshot.
“The Seven themselves walked among the Andals in the hills of Andalos, and it was they who crowned Hugor of the Hill and promised him and his descendants great kingdoms in a foreign land…” 
The Septon’s voice reverberated through Aemond’s mind, and given all the shame he had felt and the conflicted nature of his thoughts ever since he met her, he felt the need to listen to the Word of the Gods. And so he froze in the darkened, empty corridor, with his back leaned onto the wall and his hands held together on his front, finger tapping incessantly into his thigh as he listened.
“The Seven had promised King Hugor a golden land amidst towering mountains…”
Promises. What had the Gods promised him?
Almost as though they had heard his prayers, she had walked in. 
She was what the Gods had promised him.
She looked no different from the first time he’d seen her, and his mind was racing. His throat had suddenly gone dry, and his voice was seemingly stripped away from him as he finally faced her.
He’d wanted her for too long, and now she was right in front of him; his for the taking. He would not let her go this time.
The basket that she held in her hands had a variety of fruits that he presumed were for the lords and ladies to eat once they’d finished with their prayers. If his assumptions were right, she was on her way to join those at the Sept to pray. 
The Maiden as he saw her, was on her way to the Sept to bless them with her presence. And Aemond was about to show her that he was the most devout man in the Kingdoms. It did not matter how loud the echoing sounds of their prayers were - he’d worship her like none of them could.
He stalked toward her with the cadence of a starved man, one that had been kept away from his prey for too long. And what was he, if not that? The High Septon’s voice was faintly audible to him, but nowhere close to impactful enough to sway him towards any other course. 
“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” Aemond heard him say. No, none of them managed to penetrate his thoughts - but this woman, this Goddess amongst men… She owned him. She had his heart, his soul, and everything that he was.
She quickly dropped the basket and her eyes followed the one stray apple that rolled away from them both. She couldn’t for long however, not when he’d pushed her to the wall and held her by the soft skin of her cheek.
Her eyes, meeting his own. His legs lodged on either side of hers. His hand, digging into her waist like he wanted to bruise her, brand her, mark her as his.
She turned to look sideways, and seemed as though she was worried about people walking in on them in the dark, isolated corridor. He pulled her face harshly to meet his eye once more - Aemond knew that they’d all take the front entrance and not the back - they’d be left alone, if only for a little time.
He will have her today. He will have her if it’s the last thing he does.
He ran his fingers over her forehead, slowly bringing them down to trace her eye. Her eyelids shut immediately, and her breath hitched as he travelled further down and met her nose. He cannot stop now  - he will not stop - and he got to her lips, fingers hovering over the outline. He felt the faint dampness from when she’d probably licked her lips not too long ago, and gasped.
It was all he could do to not slip those fingers inside.
Her eyes are locked with his one violet orb, and he looks into her as his fingers map out every little plane of her face. He felt his knees going weak as she held her own against his intense gaze, fire matching his as she refused to break contact with his eye. His voice was hoarse and it was almost painful to let the words out, but he knew that he’d explode if he did not. 
“Do you… have any idea what you do to me?”
“Perhaps I will be better served if you tell me,” she whispered. There was no fear in her, he noticed. He may have seen her as his prey to claim, but it seemed that she was determined about keeping them both on equal footing. It only drives him toward her a lot more. His fingers travelled down to her chin, and made their featherlight way down her neck, moving as her throat bobbed while she gulped. When they reached her bosom, he watched as she audibly gasped, and wondered what other noises he could elicit from that pretty mouth.
“I have been driven mad with want. Sinful, uncouth thoughts that befit a lowly barbarian, rather than a prince. All because….” He gulped and her eyes still did not move away from his. He holds her chin to raise her face, while letting the other wander over her gown and fall on her clothed breast.
“Pride goes before a fall.” the High Septon’s faint voice reverberated through the dark corridor. Aemond is the blood of Valyria; closer to the Gods than men. With his unquestionable blood and status came a sense of pride that ensured that he’d never be looked down upon, pride that he’d never let go of. But tonight, he will. For her, he will. For he does not want to fall - he wants to fly high, higher and higher still with her.  When he faced her, he realised that he would go on his knees in reverence if she asked. 
“I’ve thought about you ever since I first saw you,” he said. His hands squeezed her breast as though he was testing out the action, and he saw how the back of her palm hit the wall and the other gripped his doublet, trying to find purchase as the faint pleasure shot through her.
“You… you are special. You are the Gods’ answer to all my prayers… You….” he took a long breath as he studied her face, looking for any signs of discomfort. “You…”
She raised her eyebrow as though she challenged him to continue, and he wondered if he should. He heard what he’d said, and it sounded no less than delusional - but how could it be wrong, if it felt so right?
“The Gods… they sent you to me.” My Goddess, he thought. “What do they want? What do you want?” 
The hand on her breast continued to knead at her soft flesh through her clothes, and his other hand descended too as soon as he watched her lips part - but that wasn’t enough. He needed an answer. So he stopped his ministrations and asked again, stern voice giving way for nothing apart from what he wished to hear. 
“What do you want from me?”
“I only want you,” she breathed out, her hands covering his as she caged them over her chest.
The Maiden had come to bless the earthly beings with her presence, with her love, and she wanted him. Wanting to wait no longer, his lips found hers.
The air crackled with an electric intensity as their lips met, desire and longing fueling the moment. His hands trembled slightly as they traced the curves of her face, fingers brushing against her soft skin with a reverence that bordered on worship.
Their kiss deepened, and he pulled her closer, his body pressed against hers, feeling the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat matching his own. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her as their tongues intertwined. The taste of her was intoxicating to Aemond - a heady blend of sweetness and fire that seared itself into his memory, branding him with a hunger he never knew existed.
Time seemed to slow, the world around them fading into obscurity as they lost themselves in the intensity of their union. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and he reciprocated, as if afraid that she might slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. Every fibre of his being was consumed by her, by the intoxicating sensation of her lips on his, the soft sighs that escaped her, and the way her body moulded seamlessly against his. 
He pushed them both towards the wall and let his hands rest on the stony surface, caging her. She leaned forward and caught his lips this time, letting her hands wander over the planes of his shoulders, his arms, his clothed chest. Aemond’s hand grasped at her neck and squeezed - enough to elicit a gasp from her, but not so much that she’d beg to not be choked to death. 
Her hands snuck in through the hem of his doublet, fingertips grazing over the bare skin of his abdomen. If Aemond dropped dead right then, he would die a happy, blessed man. Blessed by a Goddess herself.
“Spirits, wights, and revenants cannot harm a pious man, so long as he is armoured in his faith,” the High Septon recited. He recognized the words from the Holy Book, and could not help but agree. As the taste of her lips consumed him and her touch left him in a mindless frenzy, he knew.
Her touch on his bare skin ignited a fire in him that already burned bright, and as he readied himself for more, the High Septon’s distant words echoed through the darkened corridors once more.
“Men bow to their lords, and lords to their kings, so kings and queens must bow before the Seven Who Are One.”
And right then, a Prince of Valyrian blood, a man closer to the Gods than to men, kneeled. Just as the Seven preached kneeling down to the divine deities, he listened. Aemond was quick to hold her ankles and swiftly pull his hands up her legs, hiking her skirts up with each passing moment. The chill of the air around them hit her newly exposed skin instantly, as he made note of the gooseflesh that arose on her calves. He pushed his face forward to kiss her knees as his hands continued their way up, pulling her skirts all the way up to her hips and exposing her already drenched clothed cunt to him.
When his lips met the apex of her thighs, she let out a loud moan. Aemond was convinced right then, that pleasuring her was what he was put on the earth for. What better purpose can a man have, than to satisfy a Goddess amongst men?
As though they could not survive without each other’s touch any longer, her hands pulled at his hair - she wanted more, and he was all but a devoted soldier at her feet, giving her all that she wished for. He pulled her smallclothes down to her ankles, and parted her folds to bring her wet and wanting cunny to his line of sight. 
He looked up to face her, and her heavy breathing and heaving chest filled him with energy beyond that which he was humanely capable of handling. His Goddess had perhaps blessed him already, but he would be amiss if he did not properly pay her his obeisance. She’d sensed what he intended to do almost immediately, and through her barely hidden lust and half lidded eyes, she murmured.
“Anyone could come. Anyone could see.”
“Let them.” 
He pushed his head between her thighs and licked from her opening to her pearl, already drunk on the taste of her. She arched into him, and he took good care to tightly grip onto her thighs, keeping her and her skirts in place so they'd not disturb him. It would seem that his hot breath on her and his nose nudging her bud was enough to have her lose all sense of control and moan, and he relished in watching her let the pleasure take over her with each movement. He then sucked at her pearl diligently before fucking into her with his tongue once more and she pushed herself at him like she couldn't have enough.
“Those who indulge in sins of the flesh would be cursed to spend all of eternity trudging through the Seven Hells.” The High Septon’s voice echoed through, but Aemond was far too gone, far too cuntstruck as he became addicted to the feeling of her pearl between his lips. Why would he be bothered about trudging through the Seven Hells, when the Seven Heavens were right here, between his beloved’s thighs?
He was sure he heard someone, but he was too in deep to care. He’s drowning in her; the feel of her, the taste of her, the scent of her and everything that makes her the Goddess that she is to him. 
After all, how can he not? The Seven themselves had shined their light on her and sent her for him, had they not? The deeper he buried his tongue in her weeping cunny, the more the intoxicating smell of her engulfed him. And he let it. He’d let her take over him a hundred times over, for every lifetime that the Gods see fit to bless him with. 
A thin streak of light escaped in and illuminated her thigh, and he heard her moan wantonly as his tongue continued its unrelenting assault. Her pretty sounds only served to drive him mad with want, and he pressed his nose into her bud as he continued to feast on her and pushed her against the wall with a hand splayed across her stomach, pressing into her as she grinded against him.
Her hands tightened around his head and pulled at his spun-silver hair. Her cries of pleasure were the only sounds he heard as she toppled over the edge, her mind a haze as white hot pleasure coursed through her. Seven save him, Aemond was not a greedy man - but it was with greed that he did not let a single drop of her go to waste and continued to pleasure her through her peak as he lapped it all up. When he stood back up, he did so with a glistening chin, painted with her slick. 
He knew very well from the moment he saw her, that if he touched her once, he’d never let go. What he had not anticipated was how little patience he’d have - for as soon as she recovered from her peak, he quickly freed his cock and sheathed himself in her in one swift thrust. Her thighs quivered in his hold and her hands flew to his shoulders, looking for purchase as she struggled to stand on her own - her knees seemed to have melted under his touch.
He lowered his head onto her shoulder, letting the feeling of her tight heat warm his length for a moment as he stilled. She clenched around him immediately and he mouthed a path of feather light kisses down her neck. Every bead of sweat was visible to him and he breathed it all in, following it with a firm lick up the skin that left her shivering under him. He let his hand rest and pull at the hair on the nape of her neck, cold from being dampened by sweat.
It would seem that his Goddess was as impatient for him as he was for her, and couldn’t wait for him to lay his claim on her. While he was content to stay buried to the hilt in her wet cunt for a while, he knew that they were risking it all - anyone could walk in at any moment, and they had to make it quick. 
The thought of being caught out like this, buried inside of her, would usually shame him. But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed - how could he? He’d let them all watch as he took her in all the ways a man could a woman before he let her go for fear of strangers. After all, dragons did not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep. Especially not when it is a Goddess’ satisfaction that is at stake. 
“Lives are like candle flames that can be snuffed out by an errant puff of wind,” the High Septon said, and he agreed instantly. If life was finite, if he could die today, wouldn’t it be prudent to take pleasure from a divine deity that presented herself to him, wet and wanting?
Her hand moved to the back of his neck and she breathed into him, her warm breath hitting his lip as he kissed her once more. She was as desperate as he was, pushing against him in search of pleasure - pleasure that only he could give her - was all the indication he needed as he began thrusting into her, hard and fast.
She let out a choked moan as he smiled against her lips, his own a sharp line that looked more arrogant than happy - as befitting a Targaryen Prince. She lowered her hands and let it slip under his doublet once more, letting her hands roam free over his back and planting her nails into the skin. Aemond was sure that red blood had bloomed where she’d dug into him, but the heat of her, her walls clenching around him were all that mattered.
He locked her in his tight hold - one hand pulling at her hair so she’d look at him while he fucked into her mercilessly, and another on the small of her back, fingers ghosting over the top of her backside - and she was caged in by him. He held her so tight, like he worried that she’d disappear if he loosened his hold even just a little. Their kisses were all tongue and teeth as he rutted into her, hitting her rough spot with each thrust. He groaned as her lips parted, a thin line of spittle between them as he lost himself in the feeling of her.
Her back hit the wall repeatedly and the heavy thuds were in tandem with the wet sounds of his cock in her cunt. Her heavy breaths, the tightening of her stomach, the touch that she sought out and all the sounds that she made, the ones that he'd never tire of hearing, were enough to drive him to madness.
Her hands roamed over all the bare skin she could find, and when he thrusted too harshly she would reward him with blood red crescent-moon cuts with the tips of her nails. “I have… waited… for so long…” Aemond panted, his words punctuating each push into her. “Imagined having you like this, tight and warm around me,” he grunted.
She let out a choked moan, followed by her fastening her legs around him as he lifted her up and continued to let her know how much he desired her. 
“Fucked into my fist each night to the thought of you… Wrong, so wrong…” he growled, and his hands quickly went up to her chest and pulled her neckline down, freeing her breasts. He kneaded at the flesh and marvelled in how perfectly they fit in his palms, almost as though they were made for him to have and hold. With each touch, he felt the heel of her feet press into the small of his back through his clothes. Nudging him, taunting him, driving him mad.
“Want you so much, you’re mine…Issa jaesa.” [My Goddess] 
Every declaration was accompanied by a rough thrust and he felt hot pleasure blooming in his lower abdomen. But he wasn’t ready, not quite yet. Not if she wasn’t. He needed her to peak with him and truly join him as one. He needed there to be indisputable proof that she was his. The thought of her spending the day with his white hot spend running and drying down her thighs was what pushed him to circle her nub with his long finger and thrust animalistically into her, coaxing moans and a blooming warmth in her belly.
“Yours, my prince. Only yours…” she murmured in between gasps, and she peaked immediately after. He was powerless as she clenched tightly around him, and in a few slow yet definitive thrusts, his release came soon after. 
Looking in between their joined bodies, he ran his hand up her stomach and held onto her sweat-coated breast. No sight in the world had ever been so divine.
“Death is never far in this world, and seven hells await sinners…” the High Septon’s voice said as he finished his sermon. Having just found his life’s greatest pleasure in her, he found that he did not mind the Holy man’s words. 
He may be a Valyrian prince closer to God to others, but in front of her, he was only a man. And what power does a man have against a sinful temptress like her? How was he to possibly stay away? If this is how good sin felt, then Aemond realised that he would not mind being left to rot in the Seven Hells if he would be allowed the memory of her in his mind, heart and soul for eternity. It would be enough to keep him alive in the land of the undead.
He stayed buried in her until he softened once more, his hand twirling a dampened stray curl on her neck as he continued to knead at her breast and roll the soft nipple with the other. His soft kisses on her neck were only made better by her tired breaths, and he bit into her neck quickly before he let go.
He missed the warmth of her touch immediately as he pushed his cock back into his trousers, and corrected himself to make himself presentable once more. When he caught a glimpse of the stray hair on his shoulders, he looked around to find his leather hair tie - only for her closed fist to reach out to him. He opened his palm and she let the hairtie fall onto his hand, and he smirked at the normalcy of the action.
After he set his hair in place, he clutched his hands behind his back as he watched her correct her sleeves and smooth down the skirts of her worn-out dress. She smiled at him when she was done with her clothes and put a hand in her hair to tame it, and with her mischievous yet charming grin, she healed all the scars in him that she had not caused.
When she was done, he found the stray apple that had rolled away from her basket and put it in with the rest. He handed it to her and could not resist letting his hand push away the fine hairs that stuck to her forehead. When he finished, he kissed her well, and he kissed her true - no trace of the roughness with which he’d taken her only moments ago, a soft reminder of his claim to her that he'd just staked. 
Their foreheads met and he held her by the back of her head, and he smirked as he heard his Goddess speak once more.
“Will you come to me again?”
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