#hotd series
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Ch. 3: Aemond Sees A Ghost
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summary ~ Aemond tells you everything.
word count: 4.0k
warnings: NSFW/MDNI ~ dubcon (possession), kissing, grinding, spooky stuff, thunderstorms, mentions of death, themes of loss
note: I'd say we're halfway through our spooky adventure! smh I can't believe it! I hope you enjoy loves!
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“I want to know everything.”
The kettle whistles noisily before you remove it from the burner. Aemond sits in his usual spot clad in checkered pajama pants and a gray cotton t-shirt. You wonder how he isn’t cold, your bare arms are covered in goosebumps and you wish you’d grabbed a sweatshirt before leading him down to the kitchen.
There’s a constant unearthly chill in this house. You set the tea in front of him, his fingers brushing against yours as you sit beside him.
“Harrenhal,” he says softly, as a floorboard creaks overhead. You both glance up at the ceiling, watching as the chandelier trembles, the crystals reflecting the dim kitchen light.
You’ve seen it happen before when people walk upstairs; when little Jaehaera runs down the hall, when workers are moving down the hallways. The hour is late now, the workers have gone home, and little Jaehaera is tucked safely in her bed.
The floorboards above creak, regardless of the truth.
“We’re not the only ones here,” you slowly begin, eyes falling back to Aemond’s face, “We’re not the only ones in Harrenhal. Are we?”
Aemond is silent for a moment.
“No,” he says softly, “We aren’t.”
Tea turns to coffee as the sky lightens.
And Aemond tells you everything.
“Ghosts,” you breathe, “But…that’s not possible.”
“It is,” Aemond insists, “There is something here. Some energy….the locals are right when they call this place cursed. Tragedy befalls anyone who holds it.”
Your skill prickles with goosebumps. Aemond holds it. What tragedy will befall him? You think of Alys, of the sudden death of his wife.
Perhaps his tragedy has already unfolded.
“It was Harren, last night,” Aemond tells you, “And his sons, I presume. The original manor was burnt to the bare bones after they created it. With him and his sons inside of it. A terrible fire.”
A chill runs through you at the memory.
“I’ve encountered them before. They’re rather harmless,” Aemond continues, “Simply walking the halls throughout the night. Others are not as pleasant, but…harmless. For the most part.” He pauses, glancing up at you.
The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention.
“What others?” you ask, though you’re unsure if you want the answer.
“The ones I’ve encountered throughout my time here,” Aemond sighs, rubbing his eyes. The ring on his hand catches your eye; stamped with the Targaryen crest.
You’d see another just like it. Daemon’s face flashes across your mind.
“Your uncle was here,” you tell him, watching as his spine straightens, his shoulders tense, “He knows about them too I presume? He said some things---I’m sorry….it was when you were away, I nearly forgot-”
“What did he want?” Aemond interrupts, staring at you with a renewed fire in his eye.
“He just wanted to speak with you,” you tell him.
“Did he bother you? Was he inappropriate?”
“He was a bit flirtatious, that’s all,” you assure him, cheeks warming at the memory.
Aemond bristles at that, his hand clenching into a fist. Your stomach flips with embarrassment, the burning sensation on your cheeks spreading down your neck.
“I apologize for that,” he says cooly, “He’s a vile creature.”
You place your hand on top of his fist, “It’s alright.”
Aemond’s gaze softens, and he places his opposite hand on top of yours. You lose yourself in the sensation of his hand on yours for a moment, a pleasant swooping sensation in your lower stomach. You hold his gaze, desire burning hot in your belly. It’s you who looks away first, feeling embarrassed about the intense longing you feel for your employer. You shouldn’t be thinking like this.
“Who was screaming?” you ask, bringing the conversation back to the ghosts.
You can almost hear it still, the sound of screaming echoing in your mind. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to forget, even when Harrenhal is simply a memory. Aemond only stares.
“I don’t know,” he says finally, “I’m not…sure.”
You don’t know which answer you’d hoped for but find that the one Aemond gives brings you no comfort.
Jaehaera hates thunderstorms.
This is mostly due to the fact that the nursery has a balcony with French doors overlooking the God’s Eye and backyard. When it is sunny, warm rays light the room making it appear bathed in gold. But when it rains, water is hurled violently against the glass echoing throughout the room.
The nursery also has a closet on the opposite side of the room; the doors are made of mirrors. The room was once used as a dance studio, you could tell the moment you’d stepped inside. The wood floors are scuffed from years of use. You can’t help but wonder who danced there.
This is exactly why Jaehaera insisted on a sleepover in the main living room that night. She suggested it during dinner when thunderclouds were just starting to roll in and turn the sky an eerie gray color.
“I like it,” Helaena spoke, surprising you, “Let’s have a proper campout.”
So you found yourselves dragging blankets and pillows down the stairs into the living room, assembling a blanket fort with Aemond’s help, and sitting inside of it. The small space was rather cramped with the three of you inside; baby Maelor was already sound asleep in his bassinet.
Helaena was quiet the majority of the time, besides when she was quietly humming to herself. She seemed happy though from what you could tell. As happy as Helaena could be. She always had an air of melancholia around her.
“I have a story,” Helaena says.
It is the first time she’s spoken that evening. Jaehaera stands behind Aemond braiding his hair as she often does. She glances at her mother, giving her a toothy grin.
“A long time ago,” Helaena begins, her eyes looking somewhere far off, “There was a girl dressed in green locked away in a castle.”
“I like castles,” Jaehaera comments, continuing to braid Aemond’s hair.
“She was young and beautiful, and very, very sad,” Helaena continued, “She wed the king, and became a queen. It was everything a girl should want. But she didn’t want it at all.”
You watch Helaena as she taps her nails against the cup of tea she holds. They’re painted silver; Jaehaera’s doing. The paint is chipped around her thumbs already. A nervous habit you’d noticed.
“Why not?” Jaehaera asks, her nose scrunched as she pouts, “I’d like to be a queen.”
“She was in love with the princess, you see, and never wanted the old king. But he took her anyway because that is what men in power do. They take pretty little girls and keep them locked away.”
“Did she have children?” Jaehaera asks.
“She did. Many. She loved them all dearly. Beautiful children they were, and they were all taken from her. She outlived them all,” Helaena continues, “Mad with grief, the queen locked herself away this time.”
Helaena sips from her cup, a smile twitching on her lips.
“I never understood Daisy before having a child,” she muses, switching away from her story, “Before having a girl. I hope she’ll be a fool.”
A shiver rolls down your spine as Helaena locks eyes with you.
“That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world. A beautiful little fool,” she says softly, eyes flickering toward her brother, “Mũna said the same thing once, didn’t she Aem?”
Aemond holds his sister’s gaze, “I don’t remember.”
“I’m sure of it,” she says, mouth stretching open into a yawn, “You’d read aloud and Mũna would stroke your hair. You always liked that book.”
“I like a lot of books,” Aemond says, the top of his cheeks turning pink as he reaches behind him and lifts a giggling Jaehaera into the air as he stands, “It’s late, zaldrīzītsos. Time for bed.”
“I’m not tired,” Jaehaera insists, though she echoes her mother’s yawn.
You all exit the fort, Helaena retiring to the couch. She lays on her back, stretching like a cat.
“Mhmm,” Aemond says, depositing her into Helaena’s arms on the couch.
He tucks them both in, turning the remainder of the lights off before joining you on the makeshift mattresses on the floor. You can only see the outline of him in the darkness; the curve of his nose, the twinkling of his eye.
“Is Helaena alright?” you whisper, and he presses a finger to your lips.
“Yes,” he breathes, thumb tracing your lower lip, “Thank you, for doing this.”
“Of course,” you whisper, barely breathing as his finger traces down your chin, “Are you tired?”
“No,” he says softly, his hand sliding down the curve of your neck, “I’m a bit of an insomniac.”
Your breathing becomes labored as his thumb strokes your collarbone. You wish you’d worn something else, not the ratty old band t-shirt you’d chosen paired with some sleep shorts.
“Oh,” you say, unsure of how else to answer him.
Your thoughts scramble when he touches you, as though his touch short circuits the wiring in your brain. He says your name then, so softly you almost miss it. He’s close enough to kiss, all you need to do is lean forward and his nose will bump against your own.
His hand falls from you. Eyes adjusted to the dark, you watch as his tongue darts out wetting his lower lip.
“Aemond,” you say softly, and he reaches for you again, this time lacing his fingers through yours, “Will we be alright down here?”
His eye flickers around your face, his fingers tightening in your grip.
“I won’t let anything happen,” he assures, “To any of us.”
You choose to believe him. He sounds so certain, he truly believes it. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect Helaena. Jaehaera. Maelor.
You.
You rub your thumb against the smooth skin of the back of his hand and soon your eyes grow heavy as sleep overtakes you.
You wake in the middle of the night, closer to morning than to midnight. The sky is still black as ink, the sounds of rain splattering against the many windows. There is no room for stars, the entire night sky is blacked out by rain clouds.
Jaehara snores contentedly next to you, wrapped up in her mother’s embrace. Helaena’s sleeping form curls into her daughter, holding her in a cocoon of warmth. Mother and daughter look incredibly alike; both share the same nose and soft pout, their fair brows relaxed in sleep. The bassinet next to them holds a sleeping Maelor, his tiny nose scrunched as he dreams.
You sit up from your spot on the floor, looking around the dark room. It’s hard to see anything before the room is illuminated by a flash of lightning. Aemond is no longer beside you. The room descends into darkness once more, and goosebumps rise on your arms as a chill enters the room. Helaena stirs in her sleep, pulling Jaehaera closer. A mother’s unconscious need to keep her daughter close.
Lightning flashes and the room is lit once more, a shadow dancing near the stairs.
“Aemond?” you half whisper, as thunder booms through the sky.
The thunder is not as loud as it was earlier that night; the storm must be moving out. You rise from the floor, letting the blankets fall to a pile at your feet. It’s cold, much colder now that you’re in your sleep shorts and T-shirt. You move toward the staircase, around the corner, and down toward the kitchen. Perhaps he’s making tea.
When you enter the kitchen, it’s empty. No kettle whistling, no lamp, and no Aemond. A noise behind you causes you to turn.
There’s that shadow again.
“Aemond?” you call, louder this time. A small smile appears on your face.
Could he be playing a trick on you? Nervousness stirs in your belly, and you decide to follow, exiting the kitchen. You walk up the stairs, watching as the shadow dips down the left hallway, towards his study.
Warmth floods through you, desire lodging in your stomach. It spreads through your limbs thick like honey, like you’re floating down the hall instead of walking. Your head buzzes, thoughts fuzzy as you reach for the handle of the door, opening it.
Aemond looks up from his papers, a surprised look on his face as you close the door, pressing your back up against it. You’ve never been here before. The room is cozy. Warm. How can it be so warm when the rest of the house is so cold?
“You were gone,” you tell him, though it's phrased more like a question.
“I told you, I’m an insomniac,” he says, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile, “Did you miss me?”
“I always miss you when you’re away,” you tell him, surprised at the words that leave your mouth, the raw honesty behind them.
Aemond’s lips part, and his lashes flutter at your confession. You walk deeper into the room, letting your hand trail across the spine of the many books that decorate his shelves.
“You’re always away,” you tell him, tingling with anticipation, “I never see you anymore.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, as you turn to face him.
“This room,” you muse, “It’s like the heart of the house. Warm…tucked away.”
His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused on your face rather than the generous amount of thigh you’re showing. You glance down at your chest, watching your breasts rise and fall as you breathe then bring your eyes back to him.
You walk towards him, still tracing the spines of the books that line his shelves. Your hand drops as you round the corner of his desk. Aemond has pushed himself from behind his desk, still seated in the large leather chair, his legs spread wide. His lips are parted, watching you in awe.
“I just want you close,” you admit, stepping forward between his legs.
Aemond tenses as you place your knees on either side of his waist and straddle his lap. He groans as you sit, resting your weight against him.
“Y/N….” Aemond says, holding his hands up in surrender; he won’t meet your eyes.
You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, lacing your fingers together.
“Don’t you want me?” you whisper, tendrils of your hair tickling his sharp cheekbones.
Aemond looks up then, eyes meeting yours and you watch his resolve crumble. He lowers his hands to your waist, before letting them rest at the junction of your hip and thighs. The air between you is heavy, your ears are ringing as you connect his mouth to yours.
Fire burns brightly in your chest, warming your whole body as he kisses you. He tastes just like you’d dreamed he would; spearmint and tea, and something else that is entirely him. Rolling your hips against him you grind against the hardness forming between his legs. Gods he feels big.
You moan into his mouth, your mind happily buzzing as he squeezes the swell of your ass. His kiss is like a drug, like pure heaven racing through your veins. Your limbs are heavy, thoughts scattered and hazy.
That’s it. “Fuck me,” you whisper, nails digging into his scalp, nipping at his lower lip before sucking it between your own.
It’s bold, it’s lewd.
It’s not you.
Aemond groans, lifting you from his lap as he stands, and places you on his desk. You continue to kiss him, to tear at his button-down like a marionette on a string. Something is wrong. Nothing is wrong, just like that.
“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathes, and you want to scream, to tell him to wait, not like this.
Not when it's not you. Not when your body is here, but your mind is not. It feels good though, yes? The puppetmaster continues plucking your strings, making you smile coyly at him.
“My Aemond,” you whisper, hands dipping below the waistline of his pants.
Aemond freezes, pulling back from you. You tilt your head to the side as he cups your cheeks, looking deeply into your eyes. His eyes are searching, no longer clouded with lust. Your nails scrape against the smooth flesh of his lower abdomen, legs still locked behind his waist.
“Why’d you stop?” your lips form the words, but it’s not you.
Aemond’s face hardens, and he wets his lips as he releases your face. He brings his hands to your calves, unlocking them from around his waist. Gently, he places his hands on your wrists, removing them from his pants.
“Alys, we’ve talked about this,” he says softly, taking a step back.
Suddenly, the feelings of sleep are greater, and your eyelids are heavy yet they remain open. You’re aware you’re still talking, still moving, but someone else is controlling it. It’s as though you’re hearing the conversation from a different room like you’ve stepped out of yourself for a moment.
Alys. Shhhh. Alys Rivers. It’s alright. Aemond’s….Aemond’s Alys.
“But she’s perfect, Aemond,” your voice says, “And you like her, I know you do. I see the way you look at her. Touch her.”
“Let her go,” he says, voice almost a whisper, “Alys….please.”
She reaches for him, using your arms. It’s like you’re moving through molasses, though you can sense her desperation, her need for him.
“We can have a baby now,” she insists, your voice breaking as she speaks, “One of our very own.”
“You have little Jaehaera-”
“I want my own, Aemond, you promised me!”
“That was before, Alys. Now you’re…” he lets the sentence trail off, “Things are different now.”
She brings your hand to cup your breast, and you watch Aemond’s eye flicker toward the movement.
“She’s perfect,” she tells him, “And she’s so sweet, so wet for you, my love. You should feel how much she wants you.”
“Stop,” Aemond says, clenching his hands into fists.
“She aches for you. Not just physically,” Alys insists, “I can feel it all, here in her head.”
“I said enough!” Aemond yells, followed by a clap of thunder.
Alys doesn’t flinch, you can feel her unyielding strength inside of you. She tilts your chin higher, hand dropping from your breast.
“She’s different than the other one,” Alys insists, “You didn’t even like that girl-”
“You’d no right to do that to Floris,” Aemond says, running a hand through his hair, “She was a sweet girl--”
“Sweet,” Alys scoffs, “Weak. You’ve gone soft, haven’t you?” She cocks your head to the side. “Do you not love me anymore?” she asks, her voice cold as ice.
“You know that isn’t true--”
“I don’t mind sharing--”
“You’re dead, Alys.”
She’s silent then, and your chest tightens with the agony she feels at his words. Aemond’s gaze is pained, his seeing-eye glassy with tears.
“Release her-”
“I miss you,” she says, reaching for him, “That’s all. Is that so hard to believe?” She chuckles bitterly. “I just want our baby.”
“It’s not how it is supposed to be, Alys,” he says, taking the hand she offers, “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re always sorry,” she says, her voice trembling, “Just give me what I want.”
“I can’t do that,” Aemond says, “Let her go.”
Alys holds his hand a moment more. You feel a tear roll down your cheek leaving a hot stream behind. Then your limbs go rigid before all the tension in your body releases. Your head drops forward, limbs sagging into Aemond’s arms.
“It’s alright,” he says, lifting you into his arms bridal style, “I’ve got you.”
The feeling of sleep is different now; you’re groggy as though you’d just woken from a nap. Leaning into his chest, you press your face against his shoulder. Spearmint, aftershave, and tea. He smells so good. Your eyelids are heavy as he walks down the hallway. You can’t hear the rain anymore. Has it stopped?
“Aem-”
“Shh don’t speak,” he says, placing you in bed.
You’re in your room. Here already? That was fast.
“What happened?” you ask, throat raw, mouth dry.
“It’s alright,” he tells you, laying his hand against your forehead.
You welcome the heat. You’re so cold.
“The heart….” you murmur.
“What?”
“The heart of the house,” you mumble, “It’s cold…”
Aemond pulls your blankets around you, tucking you in tightly sitting beside you on the bed.
“What was that?” you ask, as Aemond’s hand strokes your cheek.
“It was just Alys,” he assures you.
You sit up then, the sleepiness leaving your body rather quickly as though someone had poured ice water down your back. The sheets fall around your waist and Aemond sighs disapprovingly as your eyebrows knit together. His hand falls from your cheek, resting on your bent leg.
“Alys,” you repeat, “Your wife.”
“Yes.”
“She made me….” your cheeks warm, “Did…did we…?”
“No,” Aemond assures, shaking his head, “No we only kissed.”
You can feel him still, the ache returning between your thighs. His violet eye watches you closely as does the sightless milky one. He’s reading every microexpression on your face like the pages of a book.
“I’m sorry-”
“Whatever are you sorry for, dōna hāedar?” he says, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.
“That we…that when we kissed…” you murmur, looking down, cheeks blazing with embarrassment, “That it….that it wasn’t me.”
Aemond rubs circles on your knee, watching the movement. The room is silent for a moment apart from your steady breathing. There is an ache between your eyes, deep in your skull that you’ll no doubt need to sleep off.
“We should rectify that,” Aemond says softly, “If you’d like.”
Your lips part as you meet his eyes again. He’s watching you so carefully, as though you may run from the grounds at any moment never to be seen again.
But you’d made your choice. And you intended to stick to it.
“Yes,” you breathe, leaning forward, “I’d like to.”
“Then it’s settled,” he murmurs, leaning forward. Your eyes flutter shut as his nose bumps against yours causing you to gasp softly, lips parting even more, “It’s only right.”
You can feel his lips against yours as he speaks; just brushing slightly.
“I agree,” you say breathlessly, and he closes the gap, pressing his lips firmly against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck.
Your hand fists his shirt as you kiss him, his mouth hot and greedy against yours. His lips, his perfect lips fit against yours so perfectly, and he turns his head slipping his tongue into your waiting mouth.
Gods you want him. You want him so badly you’re trembling with need. Aemond leans forward then, pressing you back against the bed, kissing you all the while. Your hands claw at him until his hands lace through yours, pressing them back against the mattress. He murmurs your name, lips trailing down the side of your throat. Yes, yes, yes.
“Aemond!” you gasp, pushing at him suddenly.
He tears his lips from yours, standing immediately as you gasp for breath. The pair of you stare at each other wide-eyed, trying to catch your bearings.
“She’s here,” Aemond says, voice hoarse.
“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “It felt like she may…come back.”
“Fuck,” Aemond growls, “Fuck!”
You wet your lips, wanting nothing more than to hold him. Aemond leans against the bedpost, lost in thought.
“We have to be careful,” he says, “On the grounds. She’ll try…she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” You can hear the love he holds for her in his voice, even now. “She just wanted a baby.”
“It’s alright,” you tell him, “We’ll be careful. We won’t….” your sentence trails off.
“Yes,” Aemond agrees, “Not long now. The house will go quickly once it’s on the market. Summerhal house is waiting for us.”
You force a small smile.
“No ghosts?” you ask.
Aemond’s returning smile mirrors your own.
“No promises,” he says softly, “Get some sleep.”
“What about Helaena? And the children…”
“I’ll go to them,” he says, walking forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “You rest.”
“Goodnight Aemond,” you call as he exits your room.
“Goodnight,” he says softly, the door clicking shut behind him.
You lay on the bed, your body trembling. The rain begins once more, the sound of thunder returning. It may be the rain, you’re not sure, but as you drift off to sleep you swear you hear the soft sounds of a woman crying somewhere in Harrenhal.
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I Will Break You
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen (Pirate) x Fem OC (Mermaid/Siren)
Word Count: 1,700
Content/Warning(s): !!18 PLUS!!, Non-Con/ Dub-Con, Violence, Descriptions of Blood, Attempted Drowning, Abduction, Obsession, Toxic.
Author’s Notes: This is set within The Golden Age of Piracy (1650 to 1726). I don’t know why I thought of this, but I think the best stories are the ones that just pop into your head. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 1.
King’s Landing knew him as “Aemond One-Eye” or “The Kinslayer”. He had become a well-known enemy of the monarchy. After killing his nephew; Lucerys in cold blood he escaped his execution by a hair and in the midst of his exile he created a band of the most ruthless criminals he could find to sail across The Narrow Seas and reek havoc on any unsuspecting ships and pillaging any lands nearby. Many men aboard “Vhagar” spoke of the mysterious sirens that plagued the seas and took many men to an unpleasant death.
Aemond listened to the tall tales and wondered if they’d ever encounter a swarm of them and if they did would they live to tell the tale? It was a rather misty night with the moon high and the entire crew was asleep. Aemond did not sleep often he was usually up planning his next attack. The sea was strangely calm putting Vhagar on a steady course. The sounds of faint splashes against the small waves and soft singing alerted him and he left his cabin to go on deck.
He held a lantern in his hand as he walked across looking out into the thick haze and he saw a glimpse of feminine face. He called out into the darkness. “Hello is anyone out there?! Do you need to come aboard?” All he could hear was the sweet sounds of a woman singing. It was alluring; seductive. He started to lose his train of thought with the melody wrapping itself around him. The sounds of the sea became muffled once those sea green eyes found his and his body moved uncontrollably toward the port side of the ship desperately climbing over it to get to that sickeningly sweet voice.
Without warning one of his men pulled him back aboard just as he was going to plummet into the darkness which was not an easy task. Aemond fought him tooth and nail trying to get to that sound. “No! No! She’s calling me!!!” He finally held his hands over as his ears. “Captain! Fight it!! Ye’ cannot follow the sound. It will lead you to your death!” He pulled him below and smacked the living daylights out of him. He finally stopped wailing like a mad man. He realized he was drenched in sweat and his chest heaved heavily.
“Daeros..? What…what happened?” He ran his fingers through his hair feeling as though his heart was longing for something that he could not reach. It was a dull ache that he wished to be rid of. “Captain..ye’ were bewitched by a sea devil. Ye’ must resist the lot of them or it will be eternity in Davey Jones Locker for ye’.” This particular creature had been following them for quite some time. She had the sapphire within Aemond’s skull by chance one night and she wished to pluck it from his eye socket and save it for the rest of her collection of shiny or precious things.
She had been observing him for quite sometime noting how the darkened circles under his eyes never left and he often seemed without rest. He was the only one on board who didn’t use precautions and stuff his ears like the rest of his crew. Obviously he did not believe in her kind’s existence and his ignorance would be the death of him. But tonight she was deterred and obviously angered by the interference of another. She almost had him she thought. She found refuge within a nearby cove and thought of what to do next.
Daeros left Aemond to get some rest but instead he stared at the ceiling of his room thinking of that voice and those eyes he would never forget them. The next day the sky was clear and the mist dissipated. Aemond wandered into the deck tired as usual still not finding rest. He sighed with that creature still on his mind. It haunted him so such a dreaded creature with eyes that pulled him closer and closer to his demise and yet he would risk it just to see them again.
Nights had passed and there was no sign of her, but she was there watching and waiting. He was expecting her again and she knew it she could tell by the way he roamed the deck when the moon was high. He paced back and forth and stayed there until dawning hoping to hear her song again. Finally, after days of them pillaging another unsuspecting village they stayed docked for a while making plans to set sail the next day and she knew this was her last and only chance. He had decided to take refuge as large water pool where it stood stagnant away from the harsh waves. He knew he was being watched small splashes alerted him, but he stayed calm and never showed that he knew she was there.
He smirked to himself whistling while the reflection of the moon rested on the body of water. Then in the distance he heard her and his heart fluttered with anticipation. He would finally have his chance, he could see her head peaking from the water far enough for her to swim away and deep enough to pull him to a watery grave, he stood to his feet instantly become captivated by the sound of her voice. Her voice pulled him in and the feeling the ice cold waters didn’t even make him flinch she had him where she wanted him so she swam forward wrapping her arms around him.
He finally saw her face. She was alluring and ethereal. He’d travelled the world and he hadn’t seen such beauty until her. Her wet tresses were as black as the sea and her eyes as deep as the ocean itself. She reached to pull away his eye patch, but was met with the dull sting of a knife being pushed into her tail. Her cries of pain were inhuman it almost sounded like a banshee screeching. He smiled at his victory and the pain her eyes held. She thrashed about trying to escape him and he didn’t fight to let her go, but just as she thought she could flee a net was thrown her, tangling around her.
She fought with all her might, but the pain and loss of blood began to slowly deteriorate her energy. His crew pulled her ashore and carried her away onto his boat. She was to be held below deck within a tub like a pet. Aemond came down to see her and help the wound he caused and she wasn’t happy to see him in the slightest. She hissed at him as her body laid with something that gave off the look of a tub. Her right arms was chained to the floor. Her instinct to push back and make herself smaller as he came closer made her feel helpless. She looked for an exit anywhere being inside of this thing.
“I will not hurt you again. So long as you don’t try to drown me again. Deal?” If looks could kill hers would rip him apart. He chuckled to himself and took the rag with ointment on in and began dabbing it against the wound. “I guess…you don’t speak my language…hmm..I heard your kind looked grotesque and hideous, but you….you are far from hideous.” She flinched and hissed from the stinging pain. “I’m sorry about that, but you would’ve gotten away from me…I couldn’t let that happen.” She stayed silent listening to him talk all the while planning how she could somehow find her way back to the sea.
“Don’t get any ideas…you should get used to seeing me. We are headed back to my home and you are to stay with me. I heard that after some exposure to the dry elements you sprout legs. A painful transition I suppose, but it can’t be helped. You will never see the sea again, well from your window you will.” She could feel tears flowing down her face something rather unfamiliar. She detached from the moment thinking of her sisters that she was leaving behind and the ocean that she loved so dearly. He was to hold her captive like some prized possession and she was going to be helpless.
“P..please…” She muttered lowly. He looked up in surprise. “So you do speak…Wonderful. You will learn to get use to what will now be your life. I can be very pleasant if you can learn to behave.” Her face twisted and she bared her fangs and extended jaw at him. “There she is…you didn’t like that word. I know you don’t know what it is to be tamed…but I will bend you to my will one way another.” He dug his fingers into the wound causing her to screech trying to pull away from him but she was too weak. “Please!!!!” Was all she could say unfortunately it was the only word she knew.
He pulled away and savoring the sounds of her screams. “I will be back to check on you…we will be home soon.” She fell into the tub wrapping her arms around herself and shaking. The rocking of the boat reminded her of the push and pull of the ocean and eventually she fell asleep. She thought it was all a nightmare. But she was awakened by excruciating pain. It felt as though her tail was being ripped apart. She screamed out, tears pooling in her eyes. Hearing her screams he ran to her aid and saw the most gruesome scene.
Her tail was becoming two and her scales were falling off blood pooled within the tub and she reached for him hoping he could make it stop. He for a second felt empathy wanting to throw her back into the dark sea, but he wanted her with him and he could not let her get away. Instead he pulled her from the tub and into his lap wrapping his arms around her as they sat on the floor. It was to be a long night and an even longer day once they got to his home.
To be continued….
@izzy-the-ginger
#mermaid#sirens#hotd fanfic#fic rec#hotd series#read it#10/10 reccomend#aemond fanfiction#aemond smut#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#prince aemond#house of the dragon aemond#aemond imagine#aemond stannies#aemond x fem!reader#aemond fic#aemond x oc#aemond one eye#aemond x reader#aemond the kinslayer#aemond x you#aemond#aemond x y/n#house targaryen#pirates
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when it was calmer.
AEMOND TARGARYEN x STRONG!READER
part one - courage of my convictions
summary: being the youngest of the strong children, you have your first taste of what it means to be a lady of the court.
word count: 1.9k
warnings: Aegon being Aegon, manipulation
a/n: the reader is the daughter of Lyonel Strong, and younger sister of Harwin and Larys Strong.
“My princess,” You gently called out to Helaena, “Please, let us go enjoy the gardens. They are far more enjoyable than watching your brothers and cousins quarrel.”
As soon as you noticed the competitive glances between Sir Criston and your eldest brother, Harwin, your instincts told you it would be best to escort the princess back into the comfort of the Red Keep. Having served as Helaena’s lady in waiting for the past year and a half had taught you a great many things about her and about the house of the dragon. Though the house was the epitome of royalty, they fought as any other family would - no matter how small the issue.
“My lady, don’t you wish to sit and watch-”
“Would you not rather enjoy time in the library or alchemy labs examining the creatures our grand maester has placed in jars for your viewing pleasure?” You quickly interrupted.
With an excited grin, the princess took your hand as the two of you descended the stairs from the overlook of the training yard. The pair of you giggled between girlish thoughts and small jokes, distracting you both from the jabs and punches all the princes and their trainers threw at dummies.
“My sister and her sweet lady!” Prince Aegon called from across the yard. What a dread, the princess and yourself had nearly escaped indoors.
Helaena spoke not, only looking at her brother with blank eyes. Knowing how the prince enjoyed making spectacles out of his behavior, and it becoming ten fold worse if not rewarded with proper attention, you instead bade yourself to answer Aegon, “What pleases you, my prince?”
Aegon, all but gracefully, strided toward the pair of you with his brother and cousins quickly trailing behind, “Where are you off too?”
“The princess and I were heading into the halls to seek our own enjoyment outside of the training grounds,” You explained in your kindest tone as Aegon’s eyes unpleasantly scanned your adolescent frame. He always pulled such stunts when Queen Alicent or your brothers were not around to correct his behavior. Your tone quickly began souring, “We wish to be off to the library and indulge ourselves with knowledge.”
“Knowledge?” Aegon laughs, “You are ladies of the court. What use do you have of knowledge when you are just to produce pleasure or heirs?”
If you could strike the eldest son of the King without consequence, you would have done it in an instant. Helaena was his betrothed -- but the way he spoke of her… you pitied your friend.
“Our sister and her friend can enjoy the library all they choose - you hardly ever touch a book,” the voice came from behind Aegon, belonging to the second son, Aemond.
A giggle echoed throughout the courtyard as you and Helaena laughed at Aemond’s jest. Aegon was clearly unamused by his brother’s antics, “And what use do I have for books when I have a dragon?”
Aegon's comment was clearly targeted and even caused a few snickers from Rhaenyra’s sons. You frowned at such words, seeing young Aemond scowl at his brother. The younger brother clearly wanted to say something, but refrained, knowing that if he pushed too hard, Aegon’s fit would become worse.
“And what is my youngest sister doing down on the training fields with the princess?” Harwin’s voice broke the tension between the group of adolescents.
“We’ve been watching them train,” Helaena interjected before you could speak a word, “Watching dragons dance with each other.”
You looked from Helaena to Aegon to Harwin, “True, as the princess says. But we were planning to seek entertainment inside the Keep.”
Before any another could speak, Ser Criston approached, standing across from your brother. Though you had no understanding of it, the two men had never been fond of each other, despite both being loyal to the crown. When you asked your father or Harwin, neither would answer you properly, just dismiss you or change the subject. However, your brother Larys would chuckle when you inquired about the subject with him, but his responses came in riddles. Riddles that you could not crack like you could understand those of Princess Helaena.
Ser Criston’s glare turned from Harwin to you. There was a malicious intention behind his eyes, though the reason for it was unknown to you, “Little Lady Strong, why don’t you wish to continue watching the future protectors of the realm train into fine men?”
“Do such things bore you?” The white knight’s eyes flickered back to Harwin, “Or do you simply not enjoy watching strong boys?”
Your tongue and mind escaped you. Any sort of answer had evaded you as the tension began to drown the training yard. Your eyes cut to the youngest boys, who also looked greatly confused, before looking to Aegon who had an awful smirk plastered to his face. There was something amiss.
“I have no opinion here. I am simply to be with the princess and join her in whatever entertainment she seeks,” You looked to Helaena with a great look of hope in your eyes.
Helaena looked at the ground, but her eyes flickered up to yours for just a moment at the mention of her title. It was quick -- you had barely recognized her glance before it fixated elsewhere, “There is more for me to see today. Lady, please join me.”
Whether she truly knew it or not, Helaena had spared you from the continued tension as she wrapped her arms with yours. The pair of you began to return indoors, not sparing a look to the men behind you.
Before the young women could enter, a butterfly with wings of orange and brown scorched with red landed on the princess’ hand. Both of you paused, observing the insect together. You admired its natural beauty as Helaena narrowed her eyes in contemplation.
Once it flew off, Helaena spoke again while leading you into the Red Keep…
“Walls of flames… and here you stay.”
News of the brawl in the courtyard came later when a handmaiden entered Helaena’s chambers. She didn’t even have to speak any names, you knew who was part of the quarrel: Harwin and Ser Criston.
Once you had dismissed yourself from the princess with her blessing, you moved in an instant to go see your father. Knowing he would be furious, if you got to the Hand’s chambers soon enough, maybe you could calm your father and check on your eldest brother. With quick steps, you made it down the hall. The door to the Hand’s private room began to close, but you had to slip into the room. Maybe it would change things…
But before you could make it inside, a hand grabbed you and the door was firmly closed. At your defeat, you looked to see who had grabbed your wrist, slightly shocked to see your other brother - Larys.
“Brother, please. We must go in and tell father not to make any rash decisions,” You pleaded to him, only to be met with a doubtful look.
Larys sighed as he began to escort you away from the door, “Dear sister, Harwin must face the consequences of his actions, especially as the future Lord of Harrenhal.”
“But he is son to the hand of the King! And Ser Criston had been antagonizing him!”
“It does not matter,” Larys tutted, speaking to you as if you were still just a toddler, “He has been removed from the City Watch and now must face the wrath of father.”
Your lip quivered as you looked at any place you could besides Larys, “I should have stayed in the training yard, I could-”
“You could’ve what? Stopped him,” Larys brought his hand to rest on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you, “Father was there and could not stop it. How would either of us being in the training yard stop our hot-headed brother from making rash decisions?”
Though you didn’t always trust your brother, you knew it would be wise to listen to him and heed any advice he would offer. “But what is to happen to us?”
Larys thought for a moment, clearly considering the possibilities of things that could transgress. He had always been a thinker, a man of knowledge; while Harwin was a man of action. With a content nod, he looked back to you, “That is a fair question, my sister.”
There was an attempt to suppress a chuckle, but a light one slipped past his lips before he composed himself, “Luckily for us, we are both quite valuable friends to members of the crown. Even though Harwin dishonored our name, I believe the Queen shall be gracious enough to look past such things for our sake.”
Though Larys’ statement did not yet make sense to you, in time you would learn how merciful his answer was.
That evening, your family did not dine with the royal family as was tradition and expected. Instead, you took dinner in the Hand’s chambers at your father and Larys’ side. Harwin had been dismissed for “other” business.
Fortunately, the Queen did permit you to spend an hour with Helaena before she would go to bed. The princess and you had a way of distracting yourselves from the occurrences and world around you - speaking of books and riddles. Yet, you did not expect Aemond to be joining you that evening as well.
You and Helaena sat by the crackling fireplaces, just talking over some anatomical book the princess had spread before the pair of you. The nurse announced the Prince’s presence, but before Helaena or yourself could address it, Aemond sat with you both, listening to his sister ramble.
Aemond and Helaena were naturally close, both disliking their elder brother’s treatment of them and his other activities. Though you did not know the Dragon Prince well, you were comfortable around him. So when the maid announced it was time for Helaena to sleep, he offered to escort you back to your own chambers.
The walk was mostly silent, not that you minded. It was nice enough for him to even look at you after the events of the day. You fidgeted with your fingers, thinking to yourself before he finally broke the silence.
“I am sorry to hear about Harwin’s departure,” Aemond spoke, voice shaky, “From my understanding, you are close with your brothers.”
You chuckled at his choice of words, “Even in our age differences, yes, I would consider myself to be close with them.”
Another lull fell between the two of you.
“From my understanding, you are to stay at the Red Keep while your father and Harwin return to Harrenhal,” Aemond spoke once more.
A shy smile graced your face, “Yes, the Queen requested that my father leave me behind under the watch of her and my brother, Larys. I am in a fortunate position, as Helaena’s lady-in-waiting.”
Aemond simply nodded his head, “True, it is important that my sister have… a good friend…”
“That is quite the compliment,” You smiled at the young prince, “Thank you, your grace.”
The pair of you continued walking in silence until you reached the door to your chamber. Though you had been silent, it seemed as if something had been left unsaid. But you knew better than to pry for such things. You would simply have to do without for tonight.
“Thank you, my prince, for accompanying me to my room,” You curtsied, looking into the violet eyes of the Targaryen prince.
“It is my duty,” Aemond spoke quickly, before promptly turning on his heels and walking away. He walked quickly and the air had shifted, stealing away your moment.
With that, you went into your chamber and awaited sleep to take you.
this is the first part in my new series - courage of my convictions
any and all feedback is appreciated!
#mattie writes#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#house of the dragon x reader#prince aemond targaryen#Aemond the Kinslayer#aemond one eye#hotd imagine#hotd series#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen x female reader#strong!reader#harwin strong#ser criston cole#larys strong#helaena targaryen#aegon ii targaryen x reader#Aegon II Targaryen#aemond targaryen x strong!reader#slow burn
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You’ll Always Be My Prince: Chapter Six—Changes
go to the previous chapter || go to the next chapter || back to the series masterlist
chapter summary: princess helaena’s quickly approaching wedding brings changes for everyone around it.
chapter warnings: rhaella waters’ pov, dysphoria, angst, fluff, creator chose not to use archive warnings.
length: 3.5k || read on ao3 || join my taglist
a/n: just like in chapter four, i’m not providing specific chapter warnings this time to keep the events a secret! :) trust me, it’s worth it.
The past few months came and went with a single flap of a dragon’s wing. With the wedding planning in full swing, everybody who is anybody is busy preparing for the Prince and Princess’ special day. Dancing lessons, cake tastings, and finalizing a dinner menu are just some of the things the bride and groom-to-be have to complete before their big day. But with Aegon proving himself to be no help, all the responsibilities fall to his sister and mother. Between the two women, they completed the to-do list within days. With barely a week left before the wedding, the last thing Helaena had to do was help her cousin find a last-minute dress, the exact thing Rhaella prayed she had forgotten about.
Surrounded by handmaidens, Rhaella stands in the middle of Helaena’s chambers, a full-body mirror leaning against the wall in front of them. The women giggle and fawn over her, holding dresses against Rhaella’s front. With each dress they hold up, the more Rhaella wishes she were anywhere else. She doesn’t bother looking at each garment closely—or at all, for that matter. The women didn’t care what dress Rhaella preferred, switching dresses at a breakneck speed, saving the ones they liked best. They are picky, apparently, only setting aside three or four dresses out of the hundreds they’ve shoved in her face. Finally running out of new ones to thrust at her, the handmaidens return to the dresses they liked the best, picking one and undoing the lace backings.
“Take your chemise off, m’lady,” said one of the handmaidens.
The request throws Rhaella off guard. “Why?!” Her chemise is the only thing keeping her modesty intact, and now they want to take that from her, too?
“Yours will show from underneath the dress, m’lady. You’ll need a different one.”
“Is that truly necessary? It’s not as if I’m leaving the room with it on,” Rhae contests. She could feel all the handmaids’ eyes boring into her flesh, delving straight through her and into her soul. As if they were judging her for a reason she isn’t privy to.
The handmaiden interrupts Rhaella’s spiraling train of thought. “If you want the dress to fit appropriately, then yes, m’lady.”
Rhaella looks to Helaena, hoping the princess would speak in her favor. Unfortunately, she had her back turned, organizing the discarded dresses into a semi-neat pile across the back of her red velvet loveseat. Out of luck, Rhaella surrenders. “…Fine,” she mumbles dejectedly, hanging her head. The same handmaid lifts Rhae’s chemise over her head. Her hands cross over her chest in the blink of an eye. A new chemise slips over her, but it does nothing to curb the feeling of nausea spreading from her stomach and up through her chest.
The handmaids dress her in the first of the four options. The gown is an ugly pale yellow, the shade working against all of Rhae’s beautiful features. She doesn’t think it can get any worse, but she’s proven wrong when a corset fits around her torso. The corset is laced incredibly tight, and Rhaella swears she can feel a rib crack. It pushes her barely there breasts together in a pathetic attempt to fill out the low neckline of the dress. The handmaid dressing her turns to address Helaena, asking the princess for her thoughts.
“Have you asked Rhaella? It’s not my dress,” she said softly. “What do you think of it, Rhaella?”
Rhae looks at her reflection in the mirror. The fabric clings to her skin, creating a revealing silhouette she immediately hates. The sleeves bunch at her shoulders and inner elbows uncomfortably. “It’s too tight and uncomfortable.” If she could reach the strings of the corset, Rhaella would’ve torn it off by now.
Suddenly, she dismisses her handmaidens with a wave. Helaena approaches Rhaella as if she were an abandoned baby fawn, not wanting to add to her obvious distress. Careful not to overstep Rhae’s boundaries, Helaena slowly rests her hand on Rhaella’s shoulder, only touching her after she signals it’s alright. “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head no, afraid that if she were to speak, she’d start crying. Thankfully, it isn’t lost on Helaena, seeing the tears beginning to well in Rhae’s eyes. She guides her to sit on the floor, a hand on her elbow the entire time. Helaena sits beside Rhae, her sky-blue satin skirt pooling around her.
“Can you tell me what’s the matter?” she asks, her voice gentle and soft.
Rhaella pulls her knees up to her chest. “I don’t…I don’t feel good, I guess,” she mumbles to hide how shaky her voice sounded. “Can you help me take this off?”
Helaena nods, deft fingers untying the strings of the corset and dress, pulling them apart to loosen them, ridding Rhae of the corset first. “Here, you can slip out of this now.” She helps Rhaella push her dress over her head. Rhae grabs the loose-fitting dress she wore originally, pulling it on quickly.
“Thank you for sending your handmaids away.” Rhaella’s knees return to her chest, and she wraps her arms around them, resting her head on her forearms. The tears that had started to form backed off as she began to calm down.
Helaena fiddles with the hem of her skirt. “Of course. Are you feeling any better now that you’re out of the dress?”
Rhaella looks at the wall. Discomfort licked at her like fire licks a wooden log. Her efforts to ignore it proved impossible, despite how hard she willed it to. Hyperaware of everything, Rhae desperately wished to curl up in a ball and never be seen again. It feels like a thousand eyes are watching her from every conceivable angle, judging her, mocking her, leering at her. She feels it most in her chest and lower regions. Rhaella doesn’t know how to put everything she’s experiencing into words. Let alone words that Helaena would understand. She’s not even sure if Aemond could understand it. “A bit, yeah,” she lies.
She smiles sweetly at her, nodding. “Have you had enough to eat today? Maybe that could be behind it.”
“I mean, I had breakfast,” Rhae shrugs. “It has been a while since I ate, I guess.”
Before Rhaella can protest, Helaena opens her door a crack and speaks to one of her handmaidens, requesting a platter of food to be delivered quickly. Closing the door as she returns to sit by Rhaella. “Do you feel up for continuing to look for dresses?”
She hesitates before responding, carefully thinking over her words. “Is there any way I could wear something other than a dress?”
Helaena looks puzzled for a moment. “Did you have anything in mind?”
“Maybe a fancy doublet and a long skirt?” she proposes. “I don’t think I can wear a dress for such a long time.” It’s Rhaella’s turn now to fidget with the hem of her skirt.
Helaena nods, mumbling to herself. Before she can continue, a handmaiden knocks on the door, entering after Helaena grants her permission. The woman brought a pleasing spread of red and green grapes, honeyed apple slices, cheese and crackers, and slices of thick-cut ham. Rhaella’s stomach grumbles at the sight. Setting the platter down on a table in the center of the room, the maid curtseyed and exited. Helaena moves the platter between them on the floor, pulling a handful of grapes off the vine for herself. Rhaella does the same, taking a bite out of a slice of ham.
“Thank you,” Rhae hums around a mouthful of food. “You don’t have to do all that, you know.”
The Princess smiles at her. “I want you to have a good time at my wedding, cousin. You’re important to me.”
Her confession warms Rhaella’s heart, the feeling aiding in curbing the spread of her discomfort. “I just…” she hesitates, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to ruin your big day.” She cuts her sentence short, stopping herself before she has the chance to embarrass herself. Rhaella looks away, focusing intently on the food in front of her instead.
Helaena scoots closer to her but leaves enough room so she won’t feel crowded. She picks another handful of grapes from the platter. “Impossible,” she says softly.
“But—”
Helaena stops Rhae in her tracks with a raise of her hand. “No buts.”
She shuts her mouth and nods. Despite Helaena’s soft-spoken nature, Rhaella knows better than to argue with her.
Before they know it, the sun sets below the horizon, cueing Rhaella to return to her own chambers, wedding outfit in hand. With the wedding in just a few days, she was lucky to have found something as fancy as this one. When she opens the door to her room, she finds Aemond sitting in bed waiting for her. “How long have you been here?” she asks, unfazed by his presence.
He shrugs. “I fell asleep at some point, so I’m guessing I’ve been here a while.” Aemond wears a pair of loose-fitting black breeches and a thin, unbuttoned white shirt. He wears his hair loose and unbraided, lying messy over his shoulders and back. Bruises and shallow cuts litter his arms and chest from training this morning. Rhae’s seen him like this hundreds of times, but it feels different this time. Butterflies flutter about in her stomach, and she doesn’t know why. “Where have you been?” Ae questions, running a hand through his hair.
“With your sister, finding a last-minute outfit.” Rhaella smiles at him before turning to face her dresser. “We ate like an embarrassing amount of food, too,” she says, making Aemond chuckle.
“Nothing new for you, though,” he teases, earning himself a rolled-up pair of socks to the forehead. “Hey!”
Rhae glances at him from over her shoulder. “Theres more where that came from if you’re not careful!”
“I yield, ‘O great warrior! I yield! Don’t hit me with more stinky socks, I beg of ‘ye!” Ae throws his arm over his forehead for dramatic effect.
She rolls her eyes at him fondly before turning to face her dresser. “You’re so odd, you know that?”
Ae nods proudly. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, and you know it.”
“Weirdo.” Folding her new outfit neatly and placing it in one of the drawers, she changes into her pajamas. Rhae crawls in bed, snuggling nicely into Aemond’s arms. “I’ve missed you today, though.” She rests her head on his shoulder.
He lays his cheek atop Rhae’s head, holding her close. “You know I always miss you, Rhae.”
She burrows herself further into his embrace, pushing his shirt to the side, tracing a green and yellow bruise forming over his ribcage. “Training again today?” Aemond nodded. “Did you forget your armor?” she teases, poking the bruise, earning herself a yelp.
“No, I didn’t forget my armor,” Aemond pokes her back. “I sparred with real swords today.” He hopes Rhae doesn’t notice how flustered he gets from her wandering fingertips.
Unfortunately for him, she does notice but thinks it best to keep it to herself. “Did you win?”
Aemond makes a face at her, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
“I think,” she pauses, biting her bottom lip like a cat who caught the canary, “Aegon kicked you flat on your ass.”
He smirks at Rhaella before slipping out from under her, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists at her sides. “Oh, yeah?” Aemond bites his bottom lip. “Aegon couldn’t knock over a drunk one-legged dwarf even if he asked him to.”
The butterflies return tenfold, flapping up what felt like a hurricane in her stomach. But, she finds she doesn’t hate it, surprising herself a bit. Rhaella giggles and squirms in his grasp, trying to wiggle out from underneath him. “Could he knock over a one-eyed dwarf instead?” she teases.
Needing the use of his hands, Ae moves her wrists beneath his knees, keeping her from wiggling out from under him. Using his newly freed hands to tickle up and down Rhae’s sides, Rhae squeals with laughter, kicking her legs out in a futile attempt to push him off her. “Take that back!” he commands, never lessening his playful assault.
“Never!” Rhae eventually manages to push him off, and he flops on his side with a laugh and a grin. He doesn’t stay that way for long, however. Rhaella shoves him to lie flat on his back, her turn to straddle his waist. “See! You couldn’t even beat me!” she boasts pridefully.
Aemond lifts an eyebrow at her again, his grin morphing into a smirk. In the blink of an eye, he is back on top again, both hands pinning Rhae’s above her head this time. He laces their fingers together. “Beat you,” Ae whispers, breath hot against her face. His hair fell from his shoulders, creating a silver curtain on either side of Rhaella’s head.
“You beat me,” Rhae whispers back.
He leans in close, their noses barely touching. “What’s my prize?” he asks, his voice just as quiet as hers but with a hint of snarkiness.
“Your prize?” she questions with a smirk, squeezing his hands.
“Mhmm, my prize, Rhae.”
They gaze into each other’s eyes, chestnut brown meeting violet, just like the hundreds of times before. It felt different this time, though. Older, more mature, somehow. “Go on, Ae, claim your prize.” Before Rhaella can say anything more, Aemond shuts his eye and closes the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. He untangles his right hand from Rhaella’s, cupping her cheek instead.
Rhae’s thick eyebrows furrow upwards in surprise. She’s never kissed anyone before, but that’s not to say she hasn’t fantasized about it. Her eyes flutter closed, leaning into the weight of Aemond’s palm. His soft lips feel good against hers. It’s different than the books she’s read had described it, but it’s not disappointing. The kiss ends just as quickly as it began, both of them opening their eyes as soon as they pull apart. Both their faces are flushed a deep red. Rhaella watches as panic spreads across Aemond’s features.
He stumbles over his words, unable to get a coherent sentence out the first few times he tries. “You—You don’t…hate me, right?” he asks quietly, sitting up.
Still lying there, Rhaella does her best to process everything that happened. He kissed her! Like, on the lips! Her best friend kissed her! Why do I almost want him to do it again? I hope he does it again, she thinks. Rhae brushes her fingers over her lips. “Of course, I don’t hate you, Ae,” she whispers. “You asked for a prize, after all.”
Aemond smiles in relief, chuckling to himself almost. “You’re right.”
“Did you like it? Your prize?”
He nods enthusiastically, the redness in his face migrating down his neck. “Did you?” She nods as well.
She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, propping herself up on her elbows. “Why did you, though?”
Aemond shrugs, glancing between her eyes and the mattress. “You looked really pretty, laying there like that,” he whispers. “Your hair, your eyes. The way you were teasing me.” He holds her gaze solidly now. “You’re the best prize I could think of. You promise you’re not mad at me?”
Rhae’s blush spreads down her neck, just like Ae’s had. “I promise I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you, you know.” Her hand moves to the back of her neck, nerves preventing her from sitting still. I could get used to being a prize, she thinks. But only if Ae’s the winner.
“Can I kiss you again, Rhae?” Their noses are nearly touching now. Somehow, he had been leaning closer without her noticing.
Rhaella’s face practically bursts into flames. He wants to kiss me again! Why am I so excited about that? Her hands rest on Ae’s shoulders, shoving her train of thought into the corner of her mind for now. “You—You can kiss me again.”
Aemond leans down the rest of the way, kissing her as softly as before. It’s quick and innocent, lips still against hers. Aemond pulls back just enough for their noses to touch, and Rhae giggles when he does. “What’s so funny?” he whispers, teasing her slightly.
“Nothing!” she teases back, still giggling.
He laces their fingers together again, squeezing. “You sure about that?”
Rhaella grins proudly at him. “Mhmm!”
He smirks back at her, seemingly regaining his confidence. “Is that your final answer, Rhae?” She nods. Aemond pushes Rhae on her back, her hair fanning out messily above her head. Their hands are still intertwined, and Ae holds them in his lap.
“Yep.” She doesn’t attempt to wiggle out of Aemond’s grasp, acting uncharacteristically pliant, rousing Ae’s suspicion.
Aemond rolls his eye at her dramatically. “I could just tickle it out of you instead.”
“Wait, wait! Don’t tickle me!” Rhaella backpedals, earning herself a satisfactory grin from Ae. “Maybe that’s not my final answer.”
Aemond chuckles, showing off his slightly fang-like canine teeth.
“I’m just warning you; it’s not as intriguing as you might think.” Rhae pulls her legs up so her knees are in the air, shifting Ae to sit more on her abdomen than her hips. “I thought you looked cute after you pulled away,” she admits shyly.
He smiles at her. “Can I tell you a secret?” Rhaella nods, and he leans down to whisper in her ear. “I think you’re cute, too.”
Rhaella grows flustered again, redness traveling from her cheeks to her neck. Silently changing the subject, Rhae untangles her hands from his, wrapping her arms around him instead, and pulls Ae down to lie on top of her. “Gods, you’re heavy!” she exclaims, making Ae chuckle almost proudly. Aemond doesn’t fuss over the role reversal, happily lying his head on Rhae’s chest. Her knees are still bent, so Ae positions his legs between hers, lying in a straight line.
“Thank you,” Aemond giggles, flexing his semi-existent muscles. “Can I ask you something, Rhae?”
“Ask away.”
He crosses his arms across her chest, ensuring his chin won’t dig into her uncomfortably. “Was I your first?”
Rhae nods. “Was I yours, too?” He nods as well. “I’m happy it was you. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to kiss.”
“Good, I wouldn’t want you kissing anyone else, anyway.”
His statement causes the butterflies to return once more. “Who else would I be kissing, Ae?” she asks, giggling softly.
Aemond shrugs. “Beats me.”
“You’re so weird.”
“Yeah, but you love it,” Ae smirks, making a playful face at her.
Rhaella sticks her tongue out at him. “Unfortunately.”
They lay there for a while, talking about everything and nothing simultaneously. Aemond had slid to lay half on her and half off, head resting on the heel of his hand. Rhaella yawns at some point, causing Ae to yawn, and before they know it, both of them are exhausted.
“Will you stop yawning? You’re making me yawn!” Ae exclaims, trying to fight off a yawn of his own.
She yawns again. “I’m not doing it on purpose! You keep making me yawn!”
“Well, maybe we both should stop yawning, then!” Ae suggests, and they both nod in agreement. After a few tries, they succeed in their goal, but not without giggling throughout the process.
A breeze rustles the curtains, making Rhae shiver. Noticing this, Aemond peels himself from her, and she grumbles in protest. Rhaella immediately misses his presence, his body acting like her own personal furnace. She whines, knowing exactly how to get what she wants from him. “Come back, I’m cold now.”
“I’m closing the window, gimme a sec, Rhae.”
Rhaella groans and sighs dramatically. “I’m going to freeze to death, and it’ll be all your fault!”
He chuckles under his breath. “So, I’ll finally have all my clothes back since a particular thief—who’ll remain nameless—won’t be around to steal them anymore? Oh, whatever shall I do then?” Ae hums, happily playing along with Rhaella’s little game. He crosses his arms over his chest, turning around to look at her.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ae. I’d never dare steal the prince’s clothes!” she giggles and yawns innocently. Her act would almost be convincing if Ae didn’t know she had a dresser drawer filled with his stolen clothes.
Aemond crawls back into bed, and Rhae wastes no time snuggling into his side. “Happy now?” She nods cheerfully. Aemond pulls the covers over them, tucking the blankets underneath her chin. She hugs her arms around his abdomen, using him like a stuffed animal. Before he could say goodnight, Rhaella was out cold, sleeping with her head on his chest. He watches her sleep with a peaceful expression, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You look so pretty,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, ensuring he wouldn’t wake her. Gently, Ae kisses her forehead and blows out the candle on his nightstand, leaving the room in darkness.
taglist: @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics, @criminalskies, @hyojae99, @poisonedsultana, @schniiipsel, @moonlighttfoxx, @losstboi, and @eleniblue.
#series: you’ll always be my prince#oc: daereon targaryen#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond fanfiction#aemond the kinslayer#hotd aemond#prince aemond#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x original character#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd x oc#house of the dragon x oc#hotd fanfic#hotd fandom#hotd series#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fandom#game of thrones#got#got x oc#game of thrones fanfiction#got fanfiction#got fic#got fandom#a song of ice and fire#asoiaf#asoiaf fandom
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Will you ever write something for Daeron?😭
My favorite son,my sweet boy,my husband,the loml,my soulmate,my heart-
I will deff writing something for him in the future🥰🥰
#house of the dragon#hotd#house of the dragon x reader#daeron targaryen#daeron the daring#tessarion#hotd spoilers#hotd series#daeron targaryen x reader
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Lone Wolf
Part One ✦✦✦ Wolf Meeting Dragon ✦✦✦
pairing: Fanon!Jacaerys Valeryon x Female!Stark OC
summary: Amarylis Snow, bastard daughter of Lord Rickon Stark, younger sister of Lord Cregan Stark and twin sister of Sara Snow
Word count: 2,1K
Warnings: Nothing, fluff? Not during any of the events in the show, a time where the Blacks win the war with no much destruction
Masterlist 1
Masterlist 2
Amara clasped her fur coat over her shoulder securing it, it was too heavy for her to only secure it around her neck, otherwise she would choke herself to death. Her brother insisted she and Sara wear their best clothes to welcome Prince Jacaerys Targaryen to the north after the war had ended and peace had befallen Westeros again. Amarylis or as she liked to be called Amara saw no reason for such measures, he was not going to be seeing their dresses from under the thick furs protecting them from the harsh cold.
"Make haste Amara, we are going to be late" Sara's voice was muffled by the door separating the twins from one another. Amara opened the door with a huff at how dramatic her sister was being.
"I am ready, no need for shouting" Amara lead the way down the corridor filled with the maids she had kicked out of her room, they were all panicking and ruining her hair instead of fixing it so she ordered them to leave her, even her most trusted handmaiden, Maecy Parge, she was from a lower house, one of the few girls whose parents allowed to serve the bastards of house Stark. Amara was proud that despite being bastards her and Sara had more privileges than normal bastards do, their father and brother treated them as if they were true Starks.
"Cregan will grow angry with us if we were to be late" Sara spoke, quickening her steps to match those of her sister. Amara chuckled shaking her head showing her flowing black locks, Maecy gasped horrified at the sight of the style Amara had chosen for her hair.
"Hush you, there is nothing wrong with my hair" Amara snapped softly at her confidant. Sara groaned annoyed pausing just before they reached the door leading to the court yard.
"Gods save me" She forcefully turned Amara with the help of Maecy. She pulled back half of her hair and tied it with an extra ribbon she had pocketed earlier in case her were to fall.
"Do I have to do everything myself" Sara glared halfheartedly at Amara who smiled sheepishly.
"Apologise?" Amara joked shrugging. Sara pushed her to resume walking trying to hide a smile of her own. Amara giggled as they walked over to Cregan.
"If I were you I would not come" He joked at the sight of the two girls. Sara rolled her eyes muttering under her breathe something no one could hear.
"My mistake, brother" Amara moved to stand beside him being the eldest of the twins. Cregan chuckled shaking his head. His face looked sullen still after having lost yet another wife to childbirth and this time it seemed he was adamant on not having anymore wives with the excuse of already having an heir, his son Rickon and four daughters, Sarra, Alys, Raya and the youngest Mariah.
The sound of movement in the sky made everyone look up in excitement awaiting the sight of a dragon. Sara grabbed Amara's hand in a death grip hopping on her feat excitedly waiting like everyone else. Neither have seen Prince Jacaerys or his dragon before, Amara had insisted that her and Sara leave for Essos when the Dance began in fear of harm being her sister's fate and Sara refused to leave without Amara.
The green of Vermax appeared, the dragon let out a roar shaking his wings in what Amara guessed discomfort, a creature of fire was not meant for the cold of the north. Amara felt fur brush against her other hand and averted her eyes from the huge creature ascending on some hill some feat away from the people.
"Oh Jewels, what are you doing here" Amara chuckled opening her fingers letting her wolf rub her head against her palm. Jewels let out a small purr moving to stand in front of Amara protectively. Amara was shocked that neither Frost, Sara's wolf, or Storm, Cregan's wolf, were not following Jewels as usual.
"Prince Jacaerys of House Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne and Prince of Dragonstone" A voice announced. Amara straightened her back letting her eyes wander to the gates. Jewels laid down on the ground ignoring the small hiss Amara let out "Get up". The wolf was stubborn and Amara feared how the she wolf would act around the heir.
The brown haired prince walked in through the gates alone, expected as no one from his guards were able to keep up with his dragon. He had a huge smile on his face as he approached Cregan, old friends reuniting. A brotherhood of sorts formed between the two during the war especially after Cregan put his life in danger during the Battle of the Gullet to save prince Jacaerys.
"Cregan" The prince greeted with open arms. Cregan chuckled opening his arm as well welcoming the prince with a hug.
"How have you been, my friend" Amara felt pride fill her chest at the way the prince addressed her brother, an honour to be considered a friend of the heir.
"If I may, I would like to introduce you to my sisters" Cregan was the first to pull away from the brotherly embrace. The prince's eyes wandered over to where Amara and Sara stood side by side.
"Of course" The prince's eyes trailed down to Jewels staring at him tensely as he approached Amara.
"Apologies my prince, she is very protective of my sister" Cregan chuckled. He crouched down to touch the smokey grey fur of Jewels. She huffed against his palm pushing it slightly away but not entirely while keeping her focus on the prince.
"An act I am sure many pets tend to do when meeting a stranger" The prince answered. Vermax let out a growl from the top of the hill loud enough to be heard by everyone in the yard, reminding them of his presence to protect his rider.
"My prince, the elder twin, Amarylis but don't you dare call her that, she will claw your face off" Cregan introduced, standing back up on his feet. The prince's eyes raised from the wolf and to Amara who gave a curtsy while glaring at her brother.
"An honour my prince, my brother exaggerates, you may call me whatever you prefer" Amara turned her gaze to meet his brown eyes. The prince chuckled at the lighthearted sibling spat.
"What do you prefer to be called, my lady" The prince held out his hand. Amara placed her hand into his shivering when their palms met. Jewels let out a warning growl at the touch but otherwise stayed put.
"Amara" She responded. The prince raised her hand up to place the most delicate kiss on her knuckles. His eyes lingered on her own a second or two too much but she did not seem to notice, lost in his chocolate coloured eyes.
"Lady Amara, I am gladdened to make your acquaintance" The prince muttered against her skin. He let go of her hand gently. Jewels relaxed and laid her head on her paws sensing no danger from the intruder.
"My sister, Sara Snow, the younger twin" Cregan moved to Sara. She had a bright smile on her face, a usual reaction of hers, she was the more welcoming host between the two.
"My prince" She curtsied. The prince took her hand and kissed her knuckles as he did Amara's.
"A pleasure my lady" Sara smiled and nodded her head with a light blush on her cheeks, always the sensitive one.
"We are no ladies my prince, we are Snows" Sara corrected. Her hand grasped Amara's for support, despite their brother's treatment not everyone in the north liked the twins, many treated them like dirt especially lords like Norrey, Blackwood and Manderly and many more.
Arra Norrey who was Cregan's first wife was very nice to Sara and Amara, she was raised alongside them and Cregan which resulted in the pair falling in love and marrying however the birth of Rickon was very hard on her and she passed of it. The same cannot be said about Alysanne Blacwood, Cregan's second wife and more to his four daughters, she loathed the pair and whenever Cregan was away hunting or on a diplomatic trip she would force them with the threat of her sword a ser Amara did not remember his name, and force them to tend to her as if they were maids.
"Nonsense, a person should be judged by his or her actions not their status" The prince shook Sara's words off. Amara chuckled at the surprised look on her sister's face.
"If you'll excuse me my prince, brother but it is time for the girls' meal" Amara pulled her hand away from Sara's who had a small glare on her face now, she did not want to be left alone with the prince and at the same time she did not want to spend her afternoon with her spoiled nieces.
"Girls?" The prince questioned confused, Amara looked too young to be a mother, maybe she was around his age. Amara and Sara had taken the four girls with them to Essos along with Alysanne who had died their during the war, hence why the prince did not know of them.
"My daughters" Cregan explained.
"They have maids sister, no need for you to tend to them today" Cregan denied her request. Amara nodded halfheartedly, she loved her niece dearly and wished not to leave them to the maids' mercy, sometimes they could be cruel, only days past she caught one of the maids refusing to refill the plate of Sarra, the namesake of her sister, saying she will grow fat and no one would want to marry her then, the girl is merely seven of age.
"As you wish brother" Amara leaned down to touch Jewel's fur as a signal to get up and the lazy she wolf huffed annoyed as if she was just having the best nap in her life and was disturbed but got off the floor anyways.
"Let us break fast together my prince" Cregan suggested, gesturing to their home.
"Perfect timing, I am famished" The prince joked. The two men chuckled and proceeded to walk in the front.
"He is quite handsome" Sara whispered as the two followed the men.
"Mhm" Was all Amara awarded her sister back. Sara let out a dramatic gasp of shock alerting the two men who looked over.
"Are you alright, Sara?" Cregan worried. He was the best brother they could ask for really.
"Stepped on a rock, tis all" Sara easily lied. Cregan nodded and resumed his conversation with the prince.
"You agreeing on a matter involving men, is a miracle, the gods are smiling on us today" Sara joked. Amara rolled her eyes but could not hold back a small smile from breaking through her lips.
"I do no hate men, tis you who spread such a rumour, I just find some of them dimwitted and only think with what is in their trousers" Amara shrugged. She sighed in relief when warmth engulfed them the second they stepped in.
"I spread no such rumours, tis was Alysanne so you would not get betrothed" Sara corrected. The pair gave each other a disgusted look to each other at the mention of the woman. Amara felt guilty when she was relieved at Alysanne's death from a fever.
"She wanted us to be maids forever" Amara nodded in agreement. She unclasped her fur and handed it to one of the maids by the door showing the fancy dress she wore. She did not plan that she would break fast with the prince but it seems her brother was smart enough to conclude so. Sara did the same sighing when the weight was off her shoulders. Rickon was already waiting for them with a maester, the twelve years old cleaned up beautiful unlike his usual muddy clothes from sword training with the banermen.
"Rickon, you have grown since I last saw you" The prince ruffled the brown curls of Rickon's hair. The young boy turned a deep shade of red bowing his head.
"An honour my prince" Rickon's voice was still holding a childish squeak to it.
"Please call me Jace, all of you, my prince makes me feel like some seventy years old" The prince had humour, a quality not many royals had.
The table was filled with all sorts of food and even some winter fruits that Amara liked. If breaking fast looked like this she only wandered what her brother had up his sleeve for the feast tonight in the prince's honour. She could hear the clatter of the servants preparing the ballroom some corridors down, cleaning and preparing. Amara was ashamed to admit she could not wait to spend more time with the brunette Targaryen prince.
#hotd imagine#hotd jacaerys#hotd#hotd series#house of the dragon#house targaryen#game of thrones#jaenera targaryen#jacaerys fic#jacaerys valeryon x oc#jacaerys targaryen series#jacaerys valeryon series#fire and blood
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HBO Announces New Cast Members for Season Two of ‘House of the Dragon’
https://television.mxdwn.com/news/hbo-announces-new-cast-members-for-season-two-of-house-of-the-dragon/
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#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd hbo#hbo series#house targaryen#viserys targaryen#aegon targaryen#alicent hightower#rhaenys targaryen#lucerys velaryon#rhaenyra targaryen#aemond targaryen#jacaerys velaryon#helaena targaryen#baela targaryen#daemon targaryen#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#hotd memes#headcanon#grrm#george rr martin#tv shows
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#ik i posted it in the alicent shitposting series but i think it deserve to be posted singularly too#alicent hightower#olivia cooke#house of the dragon#hotd#got#game of thrones#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#team green#greens#alicent hightower textpost#mine
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WE'RE FREE OF THE UGLY WIG
#can't believe he's serving like this at his brother's funeral#it's what luke would have wanted#house of the dragon#jacaerys velaryon#hotd edit#hotd fandom#harry collett#hotd season 2#house of the dragon season 2#house of the dragon spoilers#hotd spoilers#hotd#tv show tag#tv shows#team black#hotd series 2#house of the dragon series 2#hotd s2#house of the dragon s2#house of the dragon edit#house of the dragon fandom#spoilers#jacaerys targaryen#prince jacaerys#hotd jacaerys#jacaerys#targaryen#house targaryen
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Chapter 2: Curiosity Killed The Cat
main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter
summary ~ You begin to adapt to the unusual events of Harrenhal and your mysterious host. An unexpected guest arrives.
warnings below the cut for your convenience
warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, spiders
note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!
banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!
You lay in bed, tossing and turning for several hours waiting for another scream to inevitably pierce through the now silent halls of Harrenhal house.
Your eyes are too heavy, and you drift into a dreamless sleep. The belly full of tea must have helped soothe your nerves. Or perhaps it was more your time spent with the stoic head of the house.
It is Maelor’s cry that wakes you the following morning, rather than his mother’s, through the baby monitor on your nightstand. You hear his small gurgles as he wakes, hungry for his morning bottle. Grabbing the monitor, you jump out of bed to head toward the nursery.
As you walk down the hallway, the door opens and Jaehaera stands dressed in a pink dress, her hair done in two braids down the side of her head.
“Beat you!” she says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.
“How’d you get ready so quickly?” you comment, smile slightly faltering, “And how did you do your h--”
“Come on Miss Gevie, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day!” she sings, brushing past you and towards the hallway.
“Jaeha--- um--- I have to get Maelor!” you call, as she disappears around the corner her braids swinging behind her, “Okay….you head down!”
The day starts with a simple breakfast of oatmeal and eggs--Jaehaera is first to inform you that the only way to eat eggs is sunny side up. Aemond joins you but only for a cup of coffee. You notice he prefers it black. He doesn’t speak to you, listening intently to Jaehaera as she chatters away. Then Jaehaera begins her morning lessons when her tutor arrives promptly at nine. A kind older woman who awards you a tight smile when she introduces herself.
You hold Maelor against your hip as he babbles, walking through the main foyer and toward the library. Several workers have arrived, and you’ve seen Aemond directing them to different areas of the house throughout the morning. He’s present in the library, sitting at the oak desk when you enter.
��Sleep well?” he asks, as he notices you enter the library. His eye flickers to Maelor in your arms.
Rising from his seat, he closes a folder of papers before rounding the side of the desk. He walks closer to you, lifting his hand toward Maelor. The baby grabs Aemond’s forefinger with his pudgy fist.
“As well as I could. I was nervous during the night,” you admit, cheeks warming, “Just in case anything happened again.”
Aemond hums, still watching Maelor who holds his finger hostage. The baby brings it to his mouth, gnawing on it with his gums.
“He’s teething,” Aemond comments, “Hopefully that won’t cause more late-night disturbances.”
“It’s alright. I know what I signed up for,” you assure him, as he pulls his hand away from Maelor, patting the baby on the head.
“I’m afraid you’ll get more than you bargained for,” he says, eyes meeting yours, “This is…a lot.”
Your eyes search his face, trying to decipher the emotions he hides. Trying to find some cracks in the armor he wears during the day. You saw some last night, in the kitchen. The walls came down, if only for a moment.
“You need help,” you tell him, “You can’t manage this all on your own. The kids, Helaena, the house…I’m here to help.”
“The children,” he clarifies, “You’re here to help the children.”
“And you,” you offer, “I mean…if I can be of help with anything I’m happy to do so.”
Let me help you, you silently beg. Someone has to.
Aemond hums once more, “You’re very kind, Miss Y/L/N.”
“Just doing my job,” you assure him, but your face continues to warm at his compliment.
You hold each other’s gaze for several moments before Aemond finally looks away.
“I have some work to do,” he tells you, and you take it as a sign to leave him be.
“Maelor is about ready for a nap,” you tell him, turning on your heel to go.
You shut the door behind you, neither speaking again.
“I’ll be gone for a few days,” Aemond tells you later in the week during one of your late-night chats.
A cup of tea at midnight has become somewhat of a tradition for both of you. Helaena wakes nearly every night. It's always the same. Screaming for the son she lost. The green and purple cups are always waiting for you in the cabinet by the stove for your inevitable journey into the kitchen.
“Just tying up some loose ends in King’s Landing,” he assures you, “Helaena should be alright. I’ve spoken with her doctor about increasing her nighttime medication.”
“And if she isn’t?” you ask, unable to hide your nervousness at the thought of him leaving.
Aemond watches you for a moment, humming softly to himself. It does little to soothe your nerves.
Things go smoother than expected while Aemond is away. You fall into a gentle routine with Jaehaera and Maelor.
While Jaehaera is in her lessons you bring Maelor to Helaena. As Aemond had prepared you, Helaena refuses to hold him. She barely even looks at him. Her eyes instead are trained on your face, reading your microexpressions like the pages of a book. You and Helaena don’t talk much during these visits, though you attempt to engage her in conversation.
She always joins you for lunch, after you put Maelor down for his afternoon nap. Jaehaera comes fresh from High Valyrian and chats with her mother in their native tongue.
Then it’s time for Jaehaera’s afternoon lessons and you get some time for yourself as Helaena returns to her room like a bird returning to its cage.
Usually, you journey to the library, browsing through the collection of novels and trying not to snoop. Though you must admit, in an old house like this it's hard not to.
Curiosity killed the cat.
Advice you should probably heed. You glance at a desk in the library strewn with papers. Aemond has a private office, he’d told you as much when you arrived. Still, your fingers skim the papers, and you pick up a manila folder examining its contents.
Old documents, withered and yellowed nearly disintegrating from age. You can barely read the cursive ledger on the page. Squinting, you are able to make out the word Strong.
Satisfaction brought it back.
A loud thump causes you to drop the folder in surprise, sending pages scattering to the floor.
“Shit,” you curse to yourself, dropping to your knees and picking up the pages, putting them back where they belong.
You hurry over to the window, looking outside. A red Corvette is parked, its driver missing. The noise must have been the car door slamming shut. Dusting off your knees you hurry out of the library closing the door behind you. You quicken your pace down the hall and front steps as voices echo from the kitchen.
A man stands in front of the sink clad in a three-piece suit, holding his cell phone to his ear.
“Tell Corlys…dammit, I can’t hear you,” he snaps, holding his phone in front of him, “Hello?”
The call clearly drops and he sighs, “Bloody service.”
You clear your throat, alerting him of your presence. He turns slowly, still looking at his phone as though he couldn’t be bothered with you being there at all. A lock of silver hair falls into his eyes as he leans against the counter. A ring on his hand catches the light. Like you’d need to see the Targaryen sigil stamped on the back. You knew he was a relative the moment you saw him.
Targaryens don’t camouflage well.
“Just a moment,” he comments, glancing up at you from his phone. He does a double-take, straightening up and slipping his phone into his back pocket, “Hello.”
“Sorry…I wasn’t expecting anyone,” you tell him, watching the corner of his mouth tick upwards in a smirk.
Aemond does that too.
“And I wasn’t expecting a beautiful woman to greet me,” the stranger says, “So I suppose we’re both surprised.”
Warmth floods through you at his flirtatious tone. He’s older--much older-- and an air of confidence encircles him like a veil of smoke.
“Daemon,” he introduces, extending his hand for you to shake, “And you must be the au pair.”
You place your hand in his, and he grasps it firmly. His palm is rough and warm; much larger than your own. Your lips part, you’re sure you haven’t taken a breath since he’s looked at you.
“Mhmm,” you answer, telling him your name.
Daemon releases your hand, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.
“Something funny?” you ask, trying to keep the annoyance from your tone.
“No, nothing. I’ve found au pairs to be particularly helpful,” he comments, laughing under his breath as though he’d told a joke, “It just surprises me, is all.”
“Why is it surprising?”
“Aemond’s not usually the sort,” Daemon says, not clarifying any further.
You understand what he is implying, your cheeks growing hotter.
“Aemond and I have a strictly professional relationship,” you tell him, causing him to chuckle more.
“I’m sure you do. Aemond does value his professional relationships, doesn’t he?” Daemon says with his smirk growing, “All this talk of my nephew and I’ve yet to see the man. Where is he?”
“He’s not here.”
Daemon’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline.
“Not here?”
“He’s away on business. Won’t be back for a few days.”
“And he left you, all alone?” Daemon asks, taking a step closer to you. He reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t suppress the shiver that rolls through you.
“I can take care of myself,” you insist. Daemon’s scent floods your senses; teakwood, smoke, cinnamon. Intoxicating; it makes your head spin.
“I’m sure you can. My nephew wouldn’t have hired you if he had any doubts,” Daemon murmurs, dropping his hand, “It’s not the harmless nanny he needs to worry about.”
“What do you mean?”
Daemon watches you like a cat toying with a mouse. His lip curls slightly, enjoying your discomfort.
“Are you aware of the history of this house?” Daemon asks.
“Yes,” you tell him.
“Well, there you have it,” Daemon says, walking by you, “Have Aemond call me when he’s returned.”
You can hear his steps echoing down the hall, followed by the slamming of a car door. You stand in the kitchen for several moments, trying to catch your bearings when Jaehaera runs in.
“Who was that?” she asks, throwing her arms around your waist.
“Just…nothing,” you assure her, stroking her hair, “How were your lessons?”
As Jaehaera tells you about her day, you focus on calming your racing heartbeat. You can’t help but linger on what Daemon had said.
What exactly was he worried about?
Helaena Targaryen loves arachnids.
This becomes apparent when a spider scurries across the floral picnic blanket you’d laid out for Jaehaera.
Maelor sits with his thumb in his mouth rocking back and forth as though a gentle breeze may knock him onto his back. Sitting up is quite new to him. The afternoon had been going quite well before the eight-legged monster descended on the tea party.
“Miss Gevie! Miss Gevie!” Jaehaera screeches, launching herself off of the blanket and into your arms. Her girlish scream echoes through the backyard and she trembles against you.
The arachnid freezes at her movements, eight legs tensed and ready. Maelor stares at his sister, violet eyes wide before they drop to the blanket. Helaena is seated in a chair a few feet away, the large sun hat she wears partially obscuring her face.
“The fresh air does her good,” Aemond had told you before he left.
Helaena dives off of her chair, knees crashing into the grass beside the picnic blanket. You comfort Jaehaera as Helaena dips her torso lower against the blanket letting her hand dance above the spider. She presses her cheek into the blanket as the spider curiously lifts two legs up toward her dancing fingers.
“Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs, touching the tips of her fingers to the spider's outstretched legs. She stays like that for a moment, a small smile appearing on her face.
Maelor watches his mother, his thumb falling from his mouth.
“Kill it!” Jaehaera demands as her mother scoops the creature into her hand.
Helaena rolls onto her back, the rim of her hat getting crushed beneath her. Her knees are stained green. Maelor claps his pudgy hands together letting out a gleeful squawk.
“Why?” Helaena asked, looking at the creature in her palm with the fondness she no longer gives her children, “For simply being here?”
“He’s ugly and I hate him,” Jaehaera insists, “Make her kill it, please.”
Helaena only hums, letting the spider climb down her arm. She sounds like Aemond when she does that. Warmth bleeds down your cheeks and onto your neck. You’d been missing him. The nights have been rather empty without your late-night chats.
Helaena turns on her side, ignoring her daughter’s pleas and releasing the spider into the grass. Once free, it takes off lost from sight almost instantly.
“There,” Helaena says happily, “No need for violence, byka jorrāelagon.”
“Kepus would’ve killed it,” Jaehaera says, with her lower lip jutted outwards in a pout.
There is a shift in the energy between mother and daughter.
“Why don’t you ask him then?” Helaena says, rolling onto her back once more and closing her eyes.
“Kepus!” Jaehaera says, pushing away from your arms and running toward the house. You watch her run, following her gaze up the stone steps until you meet Aemond’s eyes.
He’s back.
She throws herself into Aemond’s arms much like she did your own, and he reaches down, scooping her up in his arms and holding her against his waist. There’s a swooping feeling in your stomach as he approaches, the heat returning to your cheeks.
“How are my girls?” Aemond asks as he moves closer.
You move to the other side of the blanket, scooping Maelor in your arms as he begins to bang his fists on Helaena’s hat.
“We’re having a tea party,” Jaehara tells him, “Muña saved a spider. I said she should kill it.”
Aemond chuckles softly at her pointed tone.
“Your mother would never,” he says, setting her down on the blanket, “And you?”
You glance up at him, surprised he addressed you, “Me?”
Aemond nods, holding your gaze, “How are you?”
You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as he continues to stare, piercing gaze never leaving your face.
My girls.
“I’m well,” you answer.
Aemond joins you as you sit back on the blanket, the spider no longer disturbing your peace. Jaehaera dotes on him, she loves her uncle dearly you can tell. You return Maelor to the bassinet as his eyelids begin to droop, rocking it side to side with your hand as he begins to drift off to sleep.
Jaehaera places a saucer on Helaena’s stomach before balancing a teacup on top of it. Helaena barely raises a brow as Jaehaera wedges a lemon cake onto the plate as well. Though she doesn’t thank her daughter, she brings a hand to the corner of the cake, tearing off a piece and placing it in her mouth.
Aemond sits straight up, balancing a teacup on his knee as Jaehaera stands behind him, combing her fingers through his long, platinum hair and twisting small braids throughout. You hadn’t realized how long he kept it, it’s usually in a bun when you see him, but now silver waves cascade down his shoulders to the middle of his back.
“We should head inside,” Aemond mutters, “The clouds are gathering.”
“A storm is coming tomorrow,” Helaena murmurs.
“How’d you know?” you ask and Helaena’s mouth ticks upwards. All Targaryens seem to have the same smirk.
“She always knows,” Aemond says, smiling softly as his elder sister.
In sleep, someone speaks to you. Whispers in your ear, breath hot like flames licking against your flesh words you do not understand.
A scream pierces through the night and you awake with a start. An ache begins behind your eyes and you press the heel of your palm against your forehead. You catch your bearing, sitting up and blinking as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Realization washes over you.
Helaena.
She’d been taking a second dose of her sleeping medication ever since Aemond spoke with her psychiatrist. Had she missed a dose this evening? You quickly rise from your bed, not bothering to grab your robe and flinging open your door.
The hallway is dark, and no moonlight spilling through the windows tonight. You reach out, holding onto the wall as a guide as you move further down the hallway.
A shuffling noise behind you makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your breath hitches and you turn around, staring into the dark behind you. You can’t see anything, just pitch black. You should’ve left a light on in your room, something to anchor you. Your hands begin to tingle as adrenaline speeds the beating of your heart.
There’s nothing but darkness, you assure yourself, the dark can’t hurt you.
But you can’t shake the feeling that as you look down the hallway, someone….or something…is looking back.
You release a shaky breath, turning back around. Something moves toward you, this time you’re certain. And suddenly a hand covers your mouth blocking the scream that rises in your throat and slamming you into the wall. It's not too hard, just enough for your shoulder blades to make a solid thump against the wood.
Aemond catches your fist in his opposite hand as you attempt to strike him, pushing your wrist back against the wall above your head. Your eyes widen when you realize it's him, cheeks blazing with rage and embarrassment, your body sagging with relief.
His hand remains on your mouth, though for a moment you’re sure it’s your scream tearing through the halls. Your stomach drops at the agonized wail and you squeeze your eyes shut. Aemond’s hand slides down until your chin rests in the space between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers are pressed so tightly against your throat you’re sure he must be able to feel your fluttering pulse.
“Hela--,” you begin to speak but are cut off by the return of his hand over your mouth.
“Shhh,” Aemond insists, as your eyebrows crease with confusion.
You mumble incoherently against his palm, lips pressing against the calloused flesh. Aemond presses closer, his tall slender frame towering over you. You cease trying to talk, your thoughts muddled as the warmth of his body presses against you. Aemond dips his head so his lips rest against the shell of your ear.
“That’s not Helaena.”
It would be intimate, sensual even, if it weren’t for the words he spoke in that low whisper. A feeling of dread washes over you like a bucket of ice water.
“Shh,” he says once more, his lips grazing your ear, “Close your eyes. Stay very, very still.”
You don’t dare move, you don’t dare speak; you simply do as you’re told, squeezing your eyes shut. Trembling against him your fingers dig into his arm while the other remains trapped in his grasp over your head. Fear burns in your belly, so hot it's as though someone is stoking a fire right in front of you.
Aemond presses closer, your breasts press against the hard planes of his chest, nipples hardening at the stimulation through the thin material of your tank top. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so frightened. Your heart is beating like a rabbit’s foot, and you try to listen to the sound of Aemond’s breathing in your ear as some way of grounding yourself.
A groan echoes from down the hall.
Your grip on him tightens.
“It’s alright,” Aemond murmurs, his voice barely audible, “We’ll just let them pass.”
Your breathing stops.
Let them? Let what? Let who?
The heat intensifies around you, colors bursting behind your eyelids as though someone is shining a light on the pair of you, though you don’t dare open your eyes. You cling to Aemond’s command like a life raft despite your morbid curiosity.
You don’t know how long you stay like that before the light begins to fade, the warmth leached from your skin as whatever passed you moved on. The hall is silent, your ears are ringing and all you can hear is each shaky inhalation of your breath. It’s not enough. It feels like all the air has been sucked from the hall like you’ll never breathe again.
“Y/N.”
What was that?
“Open your eyes.”
His voice. Aemond’s voice. The only thing that makes sense.
You open your eyes.
The hall is dark and you blink, adjusting. Aemond releases your hand and your arm falls, slightly sore and tingling with pins and needles from being held above your head for so long. He uncovers your mouth as well, taking a step back.
“Are you alright?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.
You don’t answer, frozen. Aemond cups both of your cheeks in his hands, thumbs smoothing away tears that fall. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Aemond’s brows knit together and you bring your hands to his wrists.
“What was that?” you whisper, voice hoarse.
Aemond’s expression is pained.
“There are things I haven’t told you about Harrenhal,” he says softly, releasing your face.
“What kind of things?”
“Unpleasant ones,” he continues.
You hold his gaze. If there was ever a chance to run from the manor screaming, this was it. Aemond watches you as though he expects you to run, his hands clenched into fists at his side. You know him already, know that if you chose to leave he wouldn’t follow you. He’s used to doing things on his own. It’s all he’s ever known.
It’s your choice.
Aemond lifts his eyes to meet yours as you reach for his hand. His fingers release automatically at your touch and you weave them through your own, holding tightly, anchoring yourself to him.
“Let’s get some tea then,” you tell him, “I want to know everything.”
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#aemond x reader#modern!aemond#modern!aemond x reader#aemond targaryen fic#halloween fic#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond x fem!reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x y/n#modern au#halloween au#aemond targaryen#aemond series#hotd series#fanfic series#halloween fanfic#aemond fanfiction
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Jorrāeliarza Mēre (Dear One) Part 1.
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon Fem Reader
Content: 18 PLUS 🔞, Incest, Age-Gap, Sibling Rivalry,Angst.
Word Count: 2,080
Summary: House Velaryon has come to King’s Landing to celebrate the betrothal of Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. You are the youngest sister of Laenor and Laena. Your sister, now being of age to be married, has set her sights on your cousin the Rogue Prince, himself Prince Daemon. You could care less about being married off just yet, but Daemon has other plans for you.
Authors’s Notes: There will be translations in High Valyrian and it just might suck (their English translation will be in italics next to them.)I’m doing a lot of research to make it as authentic as possible, so bare with me and feedback is always welcome. Thank you and I hope you ENJOY!
Your family's boat has just docked at King’s Landing, the bells of the city bells tolling to greet you, foreshadowing the celebration to come. You and your family have finally arrived at the Red Keep. Being announced to the king and all other patrons, your entourage enters gracefully dressed in gold with your heads held high.
Not too soon after you all have taken your places at the table, the Rogue Prince struts in behind you even after being exiled by the King, but as the Kingdom knows, Daemon listens to no one, not even his own brother. Your sister Laena notices him and somewhat swoons while a servant made a seat for him next to the King’s Hand, Ser Lyonel Strong. “Is he not handsome?” You, on the other hand, were not so easily impressed by his arrogance, but he did have a pretty face.
“If that is what piques your interest, dear sister, who am I to deny you of it?” Little did you know he spotted you from the moment he walked past and hasn’t taken an eye off you since. King Viserys stood at his feet to welcome his guests and speak before the festivities commenced. “Be welcome, as we join together in celebration. Tonight, is only its beginning. We honor the crown's oldest and fiercest ally, House Velaryon. Reaching back to the days of Old Valyria and the Age of Dragons. With House Targaryen and...”
The King being quickly interrupted by Alicent’s rather late entrance wearing the House of Hightower’s colors for all to see. Her lack of respect for the king did not go unnoticed by him or the entire court, but appearances needed to be kept. Taking her seat beside her husband, she turned to Rhaenyra, “Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you.” Viserys could sense the chill behind her words and only sighed to turn back to his subjects to finish his speech. After the applause, Laenor and Rhaenyra took to the floor to begin with the first dance of the night. Your family knew of your brother’s true preference, though your father would rather deny it. You couldn’t help but notice how out of place he looked, and it saddened you a bit.
You think to yourself, "If being forced to marry someone other than for love is the only way. Then to hell with it." You were the youngest daughter after all, it honestly didn’t matter what you wanted anyway. Once the dance of the dragons was over, everyone else joined them on the dance floor. Daemon had decided to take his niece from her betrothed for a dance. Your sister watched closely and after a while she sprung to her feet and took your hand, practically dragging you along. “Gods, Laena! Are you trying to pull my arm out of the socket!?”
She laughed, “Sorry, Y/N. I don’t want to miss this dance with him.” Being within a few feet from him he noticed you, first noting the annoyance on your face, but his attention had swiftly turned to your sister who eagerly waited for him to notice her.“Hello, my Prince.”, She beamed the brightest smile he could and while she was beautiful, he couldn’t help but want to center his gaze upon you. “Hello, Laena..Y/N. How you both have grown to be such beautiful young ladies.”
His voice quite captivating. You took this time to find a glass of wine to hold onto while your sister was occupied with trying to court him. You slipped away into the crowd hoping no one noticed your absence, but he did. After his dance with your sister, he went looking for you and that wasn’t too hard of a task. You were tucked away into a corner sipping a goblet of wine smiling at your brother and sister dancing together until you noticed someone standing over you.
“Lilagon lēda nyke gevie.” “Dance with me, beautiful.” Holding a hand out to you and you hesitantly took hold of it as he led you to the dance floor. You both bowed slightly, and he made the first move, coming around you slowly, his eyes burning into you. You were nervous. No boy nor man has ever looked at you in such a way, but you refused to let him see you in such a state.
“Issa sȳz naejot ūndegon ao qȳbranna.” “It is good to see you, cousin.” You tried to seem uninterested, but his gaze made you feel dizzy while his hands met your waist. He smiled, seeing the red rush to your cheeks. He leaned into whisper in your ear. “It is good to see you too, Jorrāeliarza mēre.” “Dear one.”
What was he doing? He hadn’t really seen much of you since you were but a babe. There is no way he could be interested in you. You were seven and ten and your sister was practically throwing herself at him. She looked confused and a bit flustered at the sudden attention she was receiving.
“I have a question, little cousin. Have you had any suitors offer to wed you yet?” She was stumped for a response. The honest answer? No, not at all. She wasn’t the type for arranged marriages and every chance she had she’d sabotage the match.
“No, my Prince, but my sister has. In fact, I think she’s rather interested in you, unlike myself.” She gave a smug smile which caused him to chuckle before leaning into whisper in her ear again. “Well, from the blush on your face, ñuha byka rūklon, you seem very interested but maybe my knowledge of body language has become a bit blurred.” “My little flower.”
Laena had been watching you two and a hint of jealousy washed over her. He hadn’t been that open with her the entire dance and she was more than open about her obvious interest in him. Meanwhile, you were practically running from him as he inhaled your scent. You smelled of honey and you were so intoxicating to him.
Such a gesture made her cheeks warm and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered ever so slightly. “Excuse me, cousin. I need to get some fresh air.” Bowing quickly, she practically sprinted away, finding herself out in the courtyard where the Godswood stood.
Your heart was beating out of your chest when the sound of approaching footsteps approached you and the voice of your unhappy sister filled the silence. “Since when did you start having feelings for, Daemon dear sister?” Confusion furrowed on her brows. “Laena…You couldn’t possibly think I have any kind of feelings for him. Sister, I would never betray you like that.”
Of course, that was what she was telling her sister and even herself, but the way his hand held onto the curves of her hips, the intensity in his eyes started a fire within her that she hadn’t yet realized. Laena fiddled with her fingers feeling her insecurities may have gotten the best of her. She saw the way he looked at you and jumped to conclusions of your true intentions with him.
You held a hand out for her to grasp so that you two might sit under the Godswood tree and talk about anything other than The Rogue Prince. And of course, your sister did the opposite of that, so you just sat there leaning against the bark of the tree listening. Letting your mind wander you closed your eyes. You could hear his voice echoing about your mind.
“Ñuha jorrāelagon mēre.” “My dear one.” Feeling someone nudge you, your eyes open quickly to see Laena staring at you. “What were you dreaming about, little sister?” Gaining your composure, you managed to get your sister to go back inside while you continue hiding. Once she was out of sight, Daemon appeared from the shadows. “Skoro syt gaomagon ao ruaragon hen nyke byka rūklon?” “Why do you hide from me, little flower?”
You moved away from where you were seated with your hands behind you back to go back inside. “Oh..Prince Daemon. My sister was just going inside to look for you. Would you like for me to go get her for you?” A sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “If I knew any better Y/N I’d think you’re trying to avoid me. Are you?” He grabbed your arm pulling you into the shadows of a dark hallway pressing your back against the cool wall.
“Cousin..this looks rather inappropriate and my sister wouldn’t appreciate us in such a compromising position.” He laughed softly burying his face into your neck to inhale your scent again. “I rather like this position, Y/N. And please call me Daemon. You and your sister act as if I already belong to her. I haven’t asked for her hand yet and I can see she’s very interested in me, but unfortunately for her my eyes haver wandered elsewhere.”
“Please Daemon, someone will see us.” You struggled to get from between the wall and him, it only made him press his chest against yours harder. “Dōna mēre, I know you want me..but I’ll let you go..for now.” “Sweet one.” He pulled away from you slowly, your breathing was erratic. Why was he doing this? Surely his advances would cause a divide in her own home. Why couldn’t he just be happy with Laena? She would be an amazing wife to him.
You waited in the hall for a moment more before going into your chambers for the night to sleep off whatever had happened tonight. Maybe your sister could catch his attention while you were gone. You closed your eyes seeing him the moment they shut. He took over your every thought even finding his way into your dreams. The feel of his calloused hand caressing your skin, him leaving heated kisses against your skin it felt all too real. You toss and turn, waking up in a cold sweat. This was to be a long night and an even longer week.
The morning light shined through your windows waking you before you handmaidens came inside to do so. You and your family were to have breakfast with the King this morning. After a short bath your maids helped you find something to wear. You decided to wear a seafoam-colored dress with white flowers embroidered along the bodice of the dress. The corset pushed your chest up causing the area to be rather accentuated.
Your platinum hair flowed over your shoulders and down your back while two braids were tied in the back. Taking one more look in the mirror you left your chambers only to be greeted by the man you were trying to avoid. “Sȳz ñāqes, dōna riña. Geron lēda nyke?” “Good morning, sweet girl. Walk with me?” Extending his arm to you, you reluctantly wrapped her arms in his. “Did you sleep well? You look exhausted. But, still so beautiful.” You yawned and quickly covered your mouth. “Forgive me, my Prince…Nightmares...” He smiled, “It’s quite alright, dōna riña. So, what if you ended up being betrothed to someone? How would you feel? “
You were in silence thinking of how to respond. “Well, it seems like I wouldn’t have a choice so I’d do what is asked of me, but I don’t think I would be too happy about it. But, if he’s a good husband then maybe I could be happy.” He listened so intently and reveled in the fact that you were so close to him. His eyes still so intense while he watched the way your lips fell when you spoke. How he wished to feel the soft flesh against his own. He slowed the walk trying to ready you for the surprise that awaited you at breakfast.
Finally, the both of you made it to the hall. All of your family was seated along with King Viserys, Queen Alicent, and Princess Rhaenyra. “Ahh brother I see you’ve found your bride to-be. Come sit I want to make a toast for another wonderful union that further binds our houses together.” You froze in your tracks your eyes searching the room to find your sister sulking in her seat burning a hole into your head. You were in shock and couldn’t believe no one informed you of this until today. “So, when the fuck were you going to tell me about this, Cousin? And you father, mother?” You storm off with your betrothed following behind you seething at your behavior.
To Be Continued….
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Vūjigon (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)
Summary: Daemon has been having sex without love his whole life. It's easy. Marriage should be more of the same, right?
Warnings: Smut. Rough oral sex, male receiving. Daemon is smitten, he just doesn't know it.
A/N: Part two to this, can be read as a stand alone. You only need to know that they don't speak the same language. Whole credit for the idea of a blowjob / character study to @precious-little-scoundrel
Westeros was full of people who hated Daemon Targaryen. It had never bothered him. Daemon knew that when you were closer to a God than a man, there were many that would envy your position. Natural superiority was challenging to accept for those of inferior stock, after all.
Your father was the kind to care about that sort of thing. He had probably found out when the two of you had been trying to trap someone with Valyrian blood to marry you. Daemon wondered if you cared about that. Or if you thought about joining their ranks.
You very well might, after this. But since you had no words with which to air your grievances, Daemon wasn't too worried. Besides, there were plenty of wives who hated their husbands, and as far as he knew, you didn't seem to like commonplaces.
It was why he was going to introduce you to this practice, after all. Daemon hoped that your foreign education and your natural curiosity might stop you from slapping him.
He pulled you in for a kiss. Eager thing that you were, you sat yourself in his lap with a saucy grin. Daemon wondered at the walking dichotomy that you were. One second you could put the most expensive whores to shame with how wanton you were, the next you turned shy, still not having fully shredded your innocence.
“Bodmagho.” Daemon says, tapping your lower lip to get your attention. It proves a dangerous thing to do because you give him a little pout, pushing your lower lip against his thumb. And Seven Hells, Daemon is just a man. When you stick your lip like that, he wants to bite it so bad.
“…” You peer up at him, with your widest eyes. Clearly waiting for your lesson. Daemon can't focus. His cock throbs painfully in anticipation of what is to come. Your small, wet mouth, spreading around him. Hot and tight, just how he likes them, but made better, because this is a hole no one has ever used before. Your astonished eyes, when you hear what Daemon is about to propose.
You jab him in the ribs, hard. Daemon shakes himself out of his lust induced stupor. There is a lesson to be taught here. Otherwise, his fantasies will never come true.
He unbuckles his belt with one hand, lifting his hips to be able to lower his breeches. His movements jostle you, and the motion makes you giggle, so Daemon lifts his hips a few more times, making you bounce even more.
It’s not often that Daemon actively tries to make others laugh. Those times were left behind in his youth, when he didn't know of other ways of charming women. He thinks himself out of practice, but is pleased to notice that you do laugh. Defenseless, he just smiles back.
Daemon grabs your hand and guides it to his cock, between the both of you. A crimson red blush stains your cheeks, and you give him a wide-eyed look. This is the first time in all of your couplings that you have touched him there. He can feel your inexperience, the way your hand strokes way too lightly, trying to get used to the feel of him. Daemon knows it is fucked up, but it arouses him even further.
Nothing is better than a maiden's touch. Perhaps your grip isn't the best, nor do you have much of a rhythm going, but your hands are soft. He can tell just by the skin on your palms that you are a lady. Someone who should be loved and protected, and that is currently debasing herself for his pleasure. The thought makes his stomach clench, cock hardening.
There is a tiny furrow on your brows, almost confused by what you are feeling. You lean in and kiss him, and unsubtly try to peek a glance at his member. Daemon chuckles, and opens up his posture even more, letting you look as much as you want. He even guides your hand on a few strokes, showing you how to touch him to get him hard.
The sight of your small hand wrapped around his shaft threatens to lead him to insanity. It's made even worse by the fact he has to guide your hand when you get a little shy. Daemon wraps his hand around yours, dwarfing it, and jerks himself off inside your smaller fist.
He is fully hard in almost no time, and he then lets go of your hand to allow you to explore on your own. Almost without noticing, you rub the head of his cock. Some of his seed is already leaking. You smear it around, curiously chirping something or another in that language of yours. Daemon has no idea what you are saying, but it amuses him how similar your accent is to those from Dorne.
They say the most beautiful women are from Dorne. Daemon wouldn't be surprised if you had family there. You are a lovely little thing, all sultry eyes and a pouty mouth that you use to great effect. You seem bright, though his assessment of your intelligence is seriously impaired by the language barrier.
Some men at court have jested about his luck, in finding a wife that never nags. Daemon no longer shares their opinion. At first, he had, but now he finds himself often wishing he could speak your language. See what hides behind your eyes, get to know you in more profound ways. Sometimes, even, he catches himself trying to find translations of his favorite books to see if you would like them.
He smiles at you, fondly, before shoving you off his lap. You let out a startled yelp, before coming up to your hands and knees. You glare at him, starting to push yourself up. Daemon stops you.
“Daor.” He says, trying to get you to stay on your knees. And fuck, if the sight of you kneeling between his spread legs doesn't do something to him. You obey with a confused and hurt look. Daemon cannot stand it. His pretty girl, all pouty and feeling unwanted. He can’t have that, can he? “Vūjigon.”
You stare.
“Come on. Vūjigon.” Daemon repeats. You still give him a puzzled look, tilting your head to the side. He fights the urge to coo at you. Instead, Daemon points to his cock, and brushes his fingers over your pouty lips. “Vūjigon.”
Sudden understanding lights up your face. The triumph at understanding what he wants only last a second, though. You balk, trying to get up. Apparently, even non westerosi noblewomen know that what Daemon is asking is somewhat debasing.
A whore's trick, Mysaria had called it, when she first introduced him to the practice. Daemon had greatly enjoyed seeing her on her knees, subjected to the indignity of having him thrust wildly inside her mouth.
With you, it was bound to be even better. There was nothing like corrupting innocence, and nothing like bringing uppity women to heel. Daemon had been eager to do this, picturing it the whole day. His pretty highborn girl, wantonly sticking her pink tongue out, eager to lap up his seed.
Rebelling, you tried to get up. Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, and firmly ordered.
“Daor.”
You spluttered something and glared. Daemon glared back. He stared you down until you lowered your eyes. There was a prideful look in your eyes, quickly being replaced by embarrassment.
Daemon brushed your pretty hair back and gently repeated his order.
“Vūjigon.”
This time, you folded. You pressed a kiss to his shaft, scrunching up your face. Daemon tutted, and smoothed down your frown.
“Ñuha kēlītsos.” Daemon smiled. His kitten. You glared, but understood that word well enough. You gave him small, kitten licks, making him shudder. Daemon had been planning this for almost a fortnight. You probably now understood his insistence at teaching you the names of animals, and your indignation was justified. All your lessons had been for naught but his hedonist tendencies.
His eyes dropped. The look on your face was priceless. All prideful highborn girl forced to do something she thought demeaning. With your pretty jewels and expensive dress, you were all that he had fantasized about and more. The gift that keeps on giving. His precious, obedient girl.
“Daor?” Daemon asks, softening a little. He doesn't want you to suffer, after all. Only be a little uncomfortable. You stop your kisses and kitten licks to give him a fierce look.
“Bodmagho.” You glower, before wrapping your pretty mouth around his leaking tip. Your brows furrow a little at the taste, but you look up at him, patiently.
Daemon can feel the heat of your gaze going straight to his cock. It turns impossibly hard. He lightly caresses your cheek with his thumb. You blink up at him, shy.
Never before have you looked more gorgeous than with your pretty mouth stretched around his cock. Daemon beckons you closer with a hand gesture, encouraging to take more of him inside. Molten, liquid heat accumulates in the base of his spine when you give a little awkward shuffle on your knees, advancing towards him.
He keeps petting your hair and muttering sweet nothings that you are probably unable to understand. You press forward, gluttonous little thing that you are, until you are choking on him. Daemon has to slow you down then because no matter how delectable your throat feels when contracting and spasming around him, the sight of tears on your face is not as arousing as he expected.
Somehow, it looks better on whores. He would like much better to see you stricken and crying from pleasure than pain.
You are his precious girl. Not deserving of rough treatment, of having to kneel on rough floors. Fuck, he hadn't even checked to see if you had a rug under your knees. He was a cunt. Daemon yanks you off his cock, and pulls you upwards. He places you on his lap.
You pout. You try to go back to his cock. He brushes the tears away from your face and wipes the corners of your mouth, getting rid of the spit gathering there. He even presses a kiss to your forehead.
“Daor, kēlītsos.” Daemon kisses you, softly. You respond poorly to the endearment, probably because you can't understand what he means. You associate it straight away with sucking his cock, which he now realizes wasn't the best idea. He taps at your lower lip to get your attention and rubs his face against your neck. You giggle, squirming like there is no tomorrow. “Kēlītsos.” Daemon orders, and you rub yourself against him, all kitten like. It would be the most adorable thing he has ever witnessed, were it not for the fact that you are rubbing against his hard cock.
He holds you to him with one hand, and unbuttons your dress just enough so he can pull your teats out. For the first time in the night, you struggle. You pull your dress up and squirm, trying to cover yourself. Daemon gives you a warning growl, and holds your hands to your sides.
You avert your eyes. Your shoulders hunch, as if you are trying to hide yourself. Embarrassed, Daemon realizes. You are embarrassed.
“Daor.” He kisses your jaw, then your neck, and makes his way to your pretty teats. He cups them in his hands. “Gevie.”
“Gevie?” You frown, puzzled. So Daemon repeats it fumblingly in your language, until your face lights up, and you are fully convinced he is calling you nothing but pretty. You give him a blinding smile, and something in him warms at seeing you so happy. He decides to just grind his hips against yours while fondling you a little. He can try teaching you how to suck his cock another night. After all, as a married couple, you had all the time in the world.
#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon smut#daemon targaryen smut#prince daemon x reader#daemon x reader#daemon targaryen x you#prince daemon x you#daemon x you#prince daemon x y/n#daemon x y/n#daemon fanfic#daemon x oc#bestiary series#daemon targaryen x fem oc#daemon targaryen x y/n#daemon targaryen x female reader#daemon targaryen x oc#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd daemon#hotd#asoiaf fanfic#asoif fanfic#asoif/got#daemon fluff
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You’ll Always Be My Prince: Chapter Four—The Flowers
go to the previous chapter || go to the next chapter || back to the series masterlist
chapter summary: it’s been two years since the incident on driftmark. two years since aemond lost his eye and claimed the she-dragon, vhagar. since then, rhaella and aemond have begun to grow up. aemond has made leaps and bounds in his swordsmanship, whereas rhaella finds herself facing a foe not even he can protect her from.
chapter warnings: rhaella waters’ pov, creator chose not to use archive warnings.
length: 4.3k || read on ao3 || join my taglist
a/n: huge apologies for taking nearly eight months to get another chapter out! i hope it won't be that way in the future, but we'll see. i've written and rewritten this chapter dozens of times, and i've finally found success with this version of it. i hope you like it as much as i do! please let me know what you think!
ik i usually provide chapter warnings, but i don't want the tags to spoil the chapter! it's worth it i promise!
and a huge thank you to @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics for letting me include her oc alethia stahl in this chapter! i highly recommend you go check out alethia's story in woman of the watch!
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Helaena asks, holding up an elegant white dress over her head. Adorned with lace and embroidered flowers, it’s a grand wedding dress suitable for any noblewoman. “Do you see the beading along the middle, Rhaella?” The princess lowers the dress, exposing her face, vibrant violet eyes shining in excitement.
Rhaella nods, looking the dress up and down. She covers her boredom and discomfort with a smile, not wanting to rain on Helaena’s parade. “Yes, Princess. Do you like this more than the last one?” At this point, the pair—well, Helaena—have been trying on dresses for no less than an hour, trying to find the perfect dress for Princess Helaena’s upcoming wedding to her brother, Aegon.
Helaena thought for a moment before responding. “I don’t know. The last one fits funny.” Without saying another word, Helaena stands. Ridding herself of her loose-fitting dress, she pulled the wedding dress on over her head. She doesn’t put it on properly, holding the waist taunt. She spins in a circle in front of a full-body mirror. “I like this one!” Helaena turns to look at Rhaella, who returns her gaze with a smile.
“It looks beautiful on you,” Rhaella hums, pulling her knees to her chest. The skirt of her dress slid down her bare legs, bunching at her slim waist. Now one-and-two years old, Rhaella’s no longer permitted to wear the tunics and breeches she prefers outside the Keep. Wearing them made her feel sick, her skin crawling and her stomach churning with every step she took wearing one. She does her best to ignore it, however. It doesn’t work very often. Helaena switches back to her previous pink dress, laying her wedding gown on a table at the other end of the room.
“We must find you a dress, too,” hums the Princess with a smile, sitting with her legs crossed on the floor across from her. “It will be fun, Rhaella!”
Rhaella forces a smile. “You don’t have to do that; it’s your wedding; focus on you.”
“No, no. You’re my friend; I’ve got to take care of you, too!”
Rhaella knows Helaena means well, but her stomach can’t help but churn at the thought. “Are you sure? You don’t have to.”
Helaena nods enthusiastically, grasping their hands within her own. “It’ll be fun! I want to hang out with you more. We’re cousins, but I hardly know anything about you.”
She stifles a chuckle. She had only started spending time with Helaena after Aemond expressed his worries over Rhaella being alone. Going into it, Rhaella thought she’d hate it but found the opposite. Assuming her cousin to be a quiet and rather uninteresting girl, Helaena proved a fascinating conversationalist if given a chance. “If…If you’re sure, then okay,” Rhaella sighs, squeezing her hands back.
A knock sounded at the chamber door, and Helaena let them in. It was her mother, Queen Alicent. “Have you picked a dress, sweetheart?” she asks, hands folded in front of her. Helaena nods, standing. She picks the dress up to show her, smiling behind it. “It is a wonderful choice, my dear.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Alicent offers Rhaella a polite smile. It did not look forced but did not appear as she wished to converse with her. Rhaella returns the gesture. She turns back to her daughter. “It is nearly noon. Come for lunch when you have finished; your father wishes for a family meal.”
Helaena nods with a hum. Quietly, she slips the dress onto a hanger, handing it to one of her handmaidens. Another of her handmaidens helps Helaena into a fancier dress. It was still loose fitting, as the princess despised tight-fitting garments. The solid gold background has mini dark green diamonds dotted along it, her skirts reaching the floor. The previous handmaiden weaves two braids into Helaena’s hair. She threads both plaits into one, pulling them together to form a half-up, half-down look. “See you later,” Helaena says, waving goodbye to Rhaella as she leaves her chambers, handmaidens following.
Rhaella didn’t know whether to follow her or not. It’s clear The Queen did not view her as family, or else she would’ve spoken to them both. I am only a bastard, after all, Rhaella thinks. I would not be welcome there. Left alone with nothing but her thoughts, she left Helaena’s chambers, gently closing the door behind her. Knowing she doesn’t want to sit alone in her room feeling sorry for herself, Rhaella finds herself roaming the twisting pathways of the Keep’s garden.
The gardens of the Red Keep are vastly different from the singular garden within High Tide’s walls. High Tide’s garden has exotic plants, symbols of Corlys Velaryon’s many conquests. In contrast, the Red Keep’s many gardens were outfitted primarily with plants native to King’s Landing and the surrounding regions. The garden she found herself in—the royal one—was the fanciest of them all. Surrounded by flowering bushes and tall trees with multicolored leaves, she recalls a memory of her and Aemond here a few months prior.
“Do you like it here?” Aemond asked.
Rhaella looked up at him. Aemond had grown taller these past few months, shooting up like a weed where she had yet to grow an inch. They leisurely walked arm in arm, enjoying the peacefulness around them. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you like it here? Like, in King’s Landing?” Aemond’s tone implied there was more he wished to say but kept hidden within himself instead.
She looked up to the cloudless blue sky. “Most of the time. Why?”
Aemond sighed quietly. “It’s just…I’ve noticed that I’m your only company. I never see you spending time with anyone else.”
“I don’t really care for the others here. They’re either jerks or boring.” Rhaella doesn’t give an entirely honest answer. Even if she tried to branch out and make friends with others here, few are willing to speak with her, let alone become an acquaintance.
Her words made Aemond chuckle, a smile spreading across his lips. It made Rhaella giggle as well. “You’re not wrong.” He knew there was more to the situation than what she said, but he had learned to pick his battles wisely.
“Why do you ask? At least, why now? It’s been this way for a while,” Rhaella countered, now looking him in the eyes again.
Aemond doesn’t keep her gaze. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.” Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, startling Rhaella. He gazed at the tall, flowered hedges in front of them. The flowers crawled up the hedge on thin vines, their blooms a vibrant purple, just like Aemond’s remaining eye. He plucked it from the vine and turned to Rhaella, tucking it behind her ear. “I don’t have as much free time anymore,” he said softly, voice laden with a subtle sadness.
She took his free hand within both of hers, his other hand busy brushing the hair from Rhaella’s face. “You don’t need to worry about that, Ae.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Besides, you’re a prince. It’d be strange if you did have free time.”
Aemond nodded in agreement, chuckling softly.
“In a way, I have it better than you do,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Oh yeah? How so?” He asked with a smirk as if daring Rhaella to prove it.
“Being a royal prince, such as yourself, you have all these duties and standards to uphold. Your life’s filled with noise, whereas I get to sleep past breakfast and stroll the halls in peace.” Her words scared away the looming sadness that had begun to form over Aemond as they both erupted in giggles.
Aemond placed his hand atop hers, squeezing it back. “I suppose you’re right, Rhae,” he said, a smile returning.
As they resumed their stroll, they soon found themselves at the end of the pathway. The path spat them out at the center of the garden. When faced with the heart of the garden, the winding pathways seem trivial, as if they belonged to some minor lord. The center expanded further than Rhaella could see, every inch flooded with rare vegetation and expensive plants, an obvious flaunt of House Targaryen’s wealth and decadence.
“Do you know the story of this place?” Aemond asked. Rhaella shook her head no. Aemond led them to a bench, sitting down as he began to tell the story. “After Aegon the Conqueror was crowned King, he returned to King’s Landing. At the time, the city was no more than a muddy army camp with a small town surrounding it. In his first years as king, Aegon built what would become this city. He couldn’t finish it, but his successors did. When Houses swore fidelity to King Aegon, many gifted him with extravagant plants and things like that. King Aegon’s successors planted many of them here, in the royal garden, to show those sworn to them that they cherished their gifts.” Aemond pointed to the flowerbed behind them, at an exotic-looking flower, the petals a rich blue. Rhaella twists around to see what he is pointing at. “See that?”
Rhaella smiled and nodded, “It’s beautiful.” She turned her head to look at him. “But what’s so special about that one?” she asked.
Aemond smiled back, unmistakably delighted she asked. “That was a gift to King Aegon from his Hand—Orys Baratheon—when he was named Lord of Storm’s End.”
“So?”
“So,” Aemond repeated, “It represents that the Baratheons and Targaryens have been friends since the beginning. Since before the beginning, even. Orys Baratheon came with King Aegon from Old Valyria to Westeros.”
“Yes, but what does that matter? Tons of Houses have their gifts planted here. What makes that flower special?” Rhaella asks, confused at the point Aemond was attempting to make.
The pair sit correctly on the bench again, albeit facing one another. Aemond took Rhaella’s hands within his own this time. “It matters because you’re half Baratheon, Rhae. That flower,” Aemond gestured toward it with his chin, “symbolizes that you belong here just as much as everyone else.” He brought their faces close, his forehead pressed against hers. “I know it; you know it. Everyone else just has yet to see it. But they will. I promise they will.”
They sit together like that for a while, breathing the same air and existing in the same space. Rhaella eventually pulled him in for a hug, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.
Rhaella hears someone shout behind her, pulling her back to the present day. She found herself sitting at the same bench she sat on with Aemond, the flower behind her in full bloom. Birds chip from their perches in the trees, chatting with pretty songs. The sky was clear and bright, just like that day months ago. Looking over her shoulder, she sees Aemond waving at her from a balcony overlooking the garden. Seeing him, Rhaella races closer to the balcony so neither would have to yell at the other.
“Rhae!”
“Hey, Ae! What’re you doing? I thought you were having a family lunch!” she calls up, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun that beat down on them.
Aemond leans against the railing, gazing down at his friend. His silver hair has grown longer in the past years, the ends brushing the middle of his chest. He was beginning to grow out of his childlike, boyish face and into that of a handsome young prince. Seeing her friend grow up before her eyes stirs something within her that Rhaella would rather ignore. Aemond grins at her as he speaks. “Father was called away for a small council meeting!” His arms were crossed across the railing, giving him an air of confidence. “You busy?”
She shakes her head no.
“Well, me and Aegon have to train with Ser Criston in the courtyard, and I thought you might want to come watch. I’ve gotten better since last time!” A lock of hair falls from behind his ear, fanning out like a beautiful silver curtain.
“Oh yeah?” Rhaella grins back, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Oh yeah,” Aemond returns her sarcasm with confidence.
Rhaella crosses her arms over her chest. “Guess I’ll just have to come watch you then, huh?”
“Guess you gotta,” he hums, teasing her. “See you there, Rhae?”
She nods, humming back. “Can’t wait to see you fall on your ass, Ae!” Rhaella says with a giggle, disappearing underneath the balcony.
Rhaella makes her way to the courtyard Aemond spoke of. It is the same yard Aemond trained in years ago with his nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys, so Rhaella had little trouble getting there. Climbing the stairs to the balconies surrounding the courtyard, she sits at one of the many terraces bordering the yard. The area wasn’t crowded, surprising her, as many ladies of the court found watching the two Targaryen princes spar peak entertainment. Maybe I’m just early, she thought. It would be nice not to deal with swooning women, though.
Aegon appears in the courtyard first. He has cut his hair shorter in the past weeks, most likely in preparation for his upcoming wedding. He, too, had grown taller, now towering over Rhaella. She doesn’t interact with him often, but when she does, he isn’t as crude to her as he was in the past. Perhaps his newfound responsibilities have begun to force maturity onto the boy. Aemond enters right after, spinning his sword by his side. He wore a special eyepatch with two straps to keep it in place as he fought. He and his brother have since graduated from wooden swords to dulled metal sparring swords.
Ser Criston came out last, wearing his arming doublet and thick breeches, arming himself with a sparring sword. He calls the boys names, gaining their attention. The brothers stand beside each other in front of the knight, Aegon showing far less enthusiasm than his brother. Aemond and Aegon are roughly the same height now, which means Aegon can’t look down on his little brother anymore. “Today, we will continue working on swordplay and evasiveness. You both have improved tremendously, so I will stand aside during sparring, assessing your progress silently. Notes will be afterward, as I want you both to evaluate the situation and correct your mistakes without my input molding your decisions. Understood?” Both boys nod. Criston backs away, his body parallel with the weapons racks scattered along the sidelines.
By now, the balconies and connecting walkways have flooded with people, predominantly noble ladies and their handmaidens. Down in the courtyard, a few lords watch from the sidelines. Rhaella can’t make out most of the lord’s faces, save but one. Ser Harwin Strong. He hasn’t been seen at the Keep for many a year for reasons unknown to Rhaella. Beside him stood a woman Rhaella had never seen before. Leaning over the railing for a better look, the woman wore her long, dirty blonde hair loose, letting it fan across her strong shoulders. She wore a simple—but undoubtedly elegant—blue dress. Rhaella can’t make out the details of it, but she can make out accents of green and red throughout the fabric.
The colors of House Strong. Ser Harwin’s house, she thinks. Rhaella leans back in her seat. Are they married? Wouldn’t I have heard someone talk about the wedding of the son of a prominent House like theirs?
Footsteps sound behind her, and Rhaella turns to see Helaena walking up the stairs. She sits beside her with a smile, hands smoothing out her dress. The clanging of swords echoes off the walls, paired with the occasional pained grunting or a frustrated yell. Rhaella glances at the stranger next to Ser Harwin, then at Princess Helaena.
She would probably know something of her. Rhaella shifts in her seat, facing her body toward Helaena. “Can I ask you a question?” she asks, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
Helaena’s eyes glitter with intrigue. “Mhmm,” he hums with a nod.
“You see Ser Harwin? Down there in the training yard?” The princess nods again. “Who is the woman next to him? I’ve never seen her before, and even from up here, I can tell she’s not from the South.”
Princess Helaena leans closer to the railing but maintains a respectful distance from the edge to prevent dizziness. When her eyes land on the woman in question, Helaena mumbles to herself. Rhaella caught parts, but what she manages to piece together doesn’t mean much to her.
She tries again with—what she thinks—is a simple question this time. “Is she Ser Harwin’s lady-wife?”
Helaena responds quietly, “I’ve heard whispers about her from my handmaidens. Rumors say she washed ashore one day, and Ser Harwin rescued her.”
Just as Rhaella moves to respond, a searing pain erupts within her, unlike anything she has experienced before. She imagines this is what battle must feel like. A white-hot blade piercing her tender abdomen, slicing the muscles up her thighs and across the tops of her slender hips. Her hands grasp at her belly, desperate to make the unending pain stop. A wave of nausea washes over her, adding another layer of misery.
Helaena looks at her with panic, then with a sympathetic understanding. She calls over her handmaidens, who were chatting quietly amongst themselves and the other ladies-in-waiting. Helaena speaks to them, but Rhaella could not hear her, as the pain blinded her to anything else. Two handmaids help Rhaella stand, her legs shaky as the jelly on her breakfast toast. Once Rhaella is safely down the stairs, the remaining ladies do their best to dab away the bloody splotch left behind on the expensive cushioning.
The handmaidens rush Rhaella to her chambers and into the washroom. They carefully help her disrobe. Her skirts are soiled with blood, the same with her inner thighs. Rhaella lets the women do as they please, allowing them to manipulate her like a marionette doll with its strings cut. The women speak to her, asking her questions and if what they’re doing is okay, but Rhaella doesn’t understand them. As if her head were underwater or as if they were speaking a language she didn’t know. She felt herself guided into a bathtub. The warm water feels good against her skin. One of the women asks permission to help her bathe, and Rhaella mechanically nods consent. Her voice sounds distant and far away as if this were only a bad dream Rhaella hopes to wake up from soon.
The gentle touches of the handmaidens help to rouse Rhaella from the trance she had retreated into. Her heartbeat echoes in her ears as her chest heaves from the residuals of a hyperventilation fit she doesn’t remember falling into. She feels dried tear tracks on her cheekbones. The pain hasn’t ceased but has let up slightly, allowing her to rebuild the strings of self-sufficiency. Still shaking, she grips the sides of the tub. Her voice warbles when she finally manages to speak. “What—What’s happening? What’s wrong with me?” she asks, voice cracking with unshed tears.
“My name is Joanna, m’lady,” says the handmaiden, giving her a higher-ranking title than she deserves. “You’re just fine, okay? Nothing’s wrong with you.”
Rhaella nods helplessly. “Then what—what’s happening?”
Joanna kneels beside the tub, holding Rhaella’s trembling hand. She strokes her knuckles soothingly. “Has no one taught you of womanhood?” Rhaella shakes he head no. Joanna looks at her with a tenderness a mother would give her daughter. It fills Rhaella with a sense of safety, almost. “Well, when a girl gets to a certain age, our bodies change from that of a girl to a woman. What marks that change is the first appearance of their moonblood.” As she explains, she continues to comfort Rhaella, rubbing her arm. “Another mark of this change is beginning to grow breasts.”
The more Joanna speaks, the more Rhaella wishes to cry. Unable to hold back her emotions, tears roll down her cheeks again, running along the dried tracks already there. Joanna hushes her, guiding the young girl to her bosom and cradling Rhaella as she cries. “Shhhh, shhhh, it’s okay, you’re alright, honey. You’re alright,” she soothes, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. She continues this until her tears stop. Snagging a towel from the shelf behind her, Joanna helps Rhaella out of the bath, wrapping the fluffy towel around her. “Let’s get you nice and dry, yes? That sounds good.”
Rhaella feels a discomfort so great that she knows no words to describe it. It felt as if she was being destroyed from the inside out. Joanna reassures her that nothing is wrong, but deep down, Rhaella knows something is wrong. Yet, despite everything, Rhaella has never felt as safe as she does now. It does nothing to dull the flames of her discomfort, but it helps Rhaella stay present.
Dressing went by in what feels like a blur. Rhaella wears a simple chemise with the comfiest socks the handmaiden could find. Joanna teaches how to line her undergarments with a cloth to prevent bleeding through her clothing, and Rhaella thinks she understands the concept. The other handmaiden left at some point prior, but Rhaella had yet to notice. There is a knock at the door, but apparently, it is merely a courtesy knock as the door swings open without waiting for an answer.
On the other side stands Queen Alicent.
Unlike this morning, the Queen looks at Rhaella with the same sympathy Princess Helaena and the handmaiden Joanna look at her with. As Alicent enters, Joanna stands and curtseys; the Queen acknowledges her, then dismisses her with a wave. The handmaiden pulls the door shut behind her, ensuring it doesn’t slam.
Rhaella watches Joanna leave, then turns her gaze to Alicent. She watches her sit beside her on the end of the bed. She feels small in comparison. “I apologize for my appearance, Your Grace,” Rhaella mumbles, staring down at her lap and sniffling, unable to hold her gaze.
Cautiously, Alicent brings a hand to the small of Rhaella’s back, rubbing up and down her spine in an attempt to comfort the poor girl. “Oh, honey, there’s no need to apologize. I’m not here as your Queen; you need not fret. Speak plainly, child.”
She allowed herself to relax, leaning into her side as she’d seen Alicent’s real children do. Rhaella sniffles, nose still running from the recent crying session. “Thank—Thank you,” she stutters out.
“How are you faring, honey? Helaena’s handmaiden told me what happened.”
Rhaella shrugs. “I don’t…I don’t know. Everything hurts and feels wrong. Like this shouldn’t be happening.”
Alicent continues to rub her back. “The first one is always the worst. How much did the other handmaiden explain to you?”
“That it’s called a moonblood, and how to keep from bleeding through my clothing.” She looks up at Alicent from her place nestled in her side. “And that I should expect…” Rhaella doesn’t finish her sentence, simply gesturing towards her chest area and hoping she’d understand.
She nods. “And you know what this means?” Rhaella shakes her head no. “It means you’re becoming a woman. Your first moonblood symbolizes the Gods preparing you to have children one day.”
A shiver rushes over her. Being only two and ten years old, Rhaella had yet to consider having children. Her mind races at the thought. Bastards like me don’t get husbands from significant houses. I don’t even know if I want a husband! It seemed impossible to her. It is something only trueborn ladies with noble husbands do. “What if I never have children? What if I don’t want them?” she asks in a panicky voice, looking up at Alicent.
Alicent sighs before responding. “It is not up to us to decide if we have children. We must put faith in the Mother Above to bless us with the gift of life. Whether she does or not is up to her and the path she has set us on.”
“I pray she never blesses me with children, then,” Rhaella grumbles and rolls her eyes.
Rhaella’s irreverence doesn’t faze Alicent; she has grown used to hearing it from Aegon. “Perhaps you are yet too young to understand.” Her words sound patronizing, but something tells Rhaella she doesn’t intend them to. “A piece of advice: fill a stocking with barley and warm it over the fireplace; it will help ease the pain.” With a final squeeze, Alicent makes her way to the door, bidding Rhaella farewell and good luck.
With the Queen gone, Rhaella is alone for the first time since her moonblood began. Her whole body ached. She can’t get comfortable since every time she shifts to try and get a semblance of comfort, thick clots of blood rush from her. Part of her wants to cry again, but no tears come to let her. Gingerly sliding off the bed, Rhaella waddles to the washroom, too terrified of leaking to walk normally. Replacing the linen lining to the best of her abilities, she discarded the soiled cloth in the tub to wash later. When she finally returns to bed, her legs feel as if she’s run to Highgarden and back. Crawling into the middle and curling in on herself, Rhaella found a bit of lasting solace in the coolness of the sheets. It doesn’t take away from the pain, but it helps her feel as if what the handmaiden Joanna said had some truth to it. It is barely mid-afternoon, but Rhaella feels the claws of slumber grasp hold of her. Despite the sun that filters in through the curtain-clad window, she falls asleep quickly, hugging a cold pillow to her chest.
taglist: @procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics, @criminalskies, @hyojae99, @poisonedsultana, @schniiipsel, @moonlighttfoxx, @losstboi, and @eleniblue.
#series: you'll always be my prince#oc: daereon targaryen#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond one eye targaryen#aemond kinslayer#aemond x oc#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x original character#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd x oc#hotd fanfic#hotd series#hotd fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon fandom#hotd fandom#game of thrones#got#got x oc#game of thrones fanfiction#got fanfiction#got fanfic#got fandom#game of thrones fic#ewan mitchell#ewan nation#ewanverse
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House of the Dragon + BLACK
(in/sp)
#hotdedit#hotdgif#gotedit#hotdcentral#targaryensource#hotd#house of the dragon#mine*#hotdcolours*#wish I’d had the foresight to finish this series before the s2 teaser came out lol#500*
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This is how I imagine Rhaenyra and her brother conversation after his coronation
Made by @vivalarevolution
#memes#hotd#house targaryen#house of the dragon#aegon targaryen#princess rhaenyra#aegon ii#rhaenyra targaryen#hotd 1x09#hotd spoilers#asoiaf#dance of the dragons#alicent hightower#hbo series#game of thrones#house of the dragon spoilers#meme#team black#team green#green vs blacks#hotd meme#house of the dragon meme#Daemon Targaryen#lucerys velaryon#otto hightower#emma d'arcy#tom glynn-carney#Jacaerys Velaryon#hotd edit#hotd cast
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