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cosmoeticss · 1 year

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Haven’t I Been Good to You? | Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader (18+)

my masterlist

Words: 2K

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Neice!Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), good old fashioned targcest, p n v, overall bad writing because I haven’t properly written in so long

Note: Reader is Rhaenyra’s heir/eldest daughter and the argument takes place after the dinner scene. I tried not to use any physical descriptors but those gorgeous targaryen platinum locks so I hope thats okay and you enjoy. Literally crawling in my skin right now because I’m about to post this, existing is an embarrassment, if you see this ily thank you for reading.

part two

Aemond was anything but cooled off when he returned to his marital chambers that night. He bound into the room, his displeasure from the night clear in his body language and his labored breathing. His wife sat stoically in front of her vanity, clad in only her night dress as she combed through the length of her silky, silver curls.

Aemond stared her down in disbelief as she barely acknowledged him. How could she honestly be angry with him? It was her bastard brothers who started the disagreement, who started the rivalry to begin with, who teased him their whole childhood and took his eye that fateful night on Driftmark. And here she sat, his wife, shoulders back and proud and angry with him.

Gods, she was beautiful when she was angry. If he didn't know her so well he wouldn't be able to tell. She was so serene and regal and surprisingly calm when she was upset. He often thought of how opposite they were in that sense. He thought of how hot tempered and quick to snap he was, and how she thought everything through before it slipped from her pretty lips. He envied this about her, and yet it was what he had loved most about her as well.

Aemond couldn't help it. He broke first. "Where are the children?" He inquired, steadying himself to the best of his ability.

She hardly gave him the time of day as she answered, her eyes not leaving her own reflection. "I've settled them into bed,” she said.

The Prince furrowed his brow. "Did you not think that I would wish to bid goodnight to my sons?"

"The hour is late. They've had their fill of excitement for the day, Husband."

Husband. Not her usual 'my dearest love,' not 'my darling.' He was in trouble far more than what he had bargained for. He eyed her in disbelief. "You're truly taking their side?"

She finally turned then, vast (e/c) eyes meeting his violet one. "There is no side to be taken, Aemond,” he hated her formality when they argued, "We are a family. We're supposed to be on the same side. Did you see how pleased the poor King was to see everyone finally getting along? Our mothers finally found some common ground after all of these years and yet you ruined an otherwise pleasant night with your wounded pride."

"My wounded pride?" he spat harshly, raising his voice at her. "Did you not see the way your beloved brother laughed as they sat a roasted pig in front of me? Or have you forgotten the torment I was subject to as a child? What do you expect to me to do, (Y/N)?"

She stood then, the silk of her long night dress accentuating her rounded stomach. "You are to be the Royal Consort one day, you will be King!" she scolded him sternly, silencing him. "I expect you to be the bigger person. I expect you to act with dignity and not meet the teasing of a child with the ferocity that you did tonight!"

Aemond softened at this, turning away from her to face the burning embers of the hearth. He did not retaliate, only moving to sit in a chair placed in front of it. He gripped the arms of the seat trying to calm himself, breathing deeply.

His wife watched him carefully. "It is not fair. I know it isn't," she swallowed, her eyes glazed over as she did. "I know that it angers you that I love my family after all my brothers have done to you, after what Lucerys has taken from you and I am sorry, Aemond. I truly am."

He was silent still, eye glued to the flames before him as if they were the most important thing in the room. "I cannot keep atoning for crimes I did not commit," her voice was almost pleading as she stepped closer to him then, slowly, testing the water carefully. When he did not retaliate, she kneeled on the floor in front of him. "I know that you would not have chosen me to wed on our own, dear husband."

Her hands reached out to take his, and he allowed it, watching down the bridge of his nose as his wife gently held his hands in her small ones and brought them both to her lips, kissing them tenderly and repeatedly. "We have been honest and good to each other in these near seven years as man and wife, though," she stated, eyes wide and pleading as she rested her chin on his knee. "Have I not been a good to you?"

"You have," Aemond's voice cracked, his eyes fluttering shut at her soft inquisition. He breathed deeply, removing one of his hands from hers and carding it through her beautiful hair. “My love.”

"I have given you my body, mind, and soul. I have given you my virtue, and my fidelity. My heart has only ever belonged to you," she whispered as her husbands tensity began to dissolve between her nimble fingers and lips. Her soft kisses continuing slowly up his arm. "I have bore you two beautiful, healthy boys. Boys that will be Kings and Warriors one day, and I carry another inside me."

The air was stolen from her as Aemond halted her pecking and surged forward, lifting her swiftly from the stone floor to straddle his lap as if she weighed nothing. She gazed down at him, moving to gently remove her husbands eye patch. He hadn't minded the action for years now, as it was a bother to wear and his pretty wife had never judged his appearance or what he had lost all those years ago. She set the patch on the end table next to them, not taking her eyes off of him as her hands slid up his shoulders and found their home at his jawline. Her thumbs moved in slow circles on his face.

"I have given you power," he whimpered at this, gripping the soft meat of her thighs. "Outside the walls of this chamber you are my equal, and one day we will rule the Seven Kingdoms side by side, however we see fit to."

"Yes," he groaned hoarsely, continuing his kneading at her thighs, sitting up to press his lips to her throat, leaving hot opened mouth kisses down her neck to the swell of her breasts as he detangled the strings of her shift, baring her supple chest to him.

"You would like that wouldn't you, My King?" Aemond growled in agreement, continuing his ravishing as she slipped her fingers to the base of his neck and weaved them into his hair, gripping it tightly. "And in this room, you will rule me as you see fit."

"If that we're true then I would bound you to our bed, little wife," he sank his teeth delicately into the flesh of her breast, tongue swirling against the skin, causing her head to snap back in pleasure and a breathy moan to fall from her lips. "You would never leave these chambers. Who would be left to rule if I'm buried inside this sweet cunt for all of our lives, hmm?"

"You have many years before we are crowned for me to ride you, my dragon. And I plan to mount you morning and night,” she grinding into him, their lips meeting finally in a messy kiss. "Surely you'll tire of bedding me by then."

"Never," he pressed his forehead to hers, their breathing hot as he moved a large slender hand to cover her swollen stomach. "I enjoy no sight more than your belly swollen with our children."

She rutted her hips against his once more, her weeping cunt begging for friction. "Please, my dearest love"

"I wonder how the realm would feel if they knew the truth of their precious Princess?" he smirked as she fucked herself on his covered length. "If they knew how she begged for me each night? How wet she gets without me even having to touch her."

"Aemond, please," she wined.

"You wish to ride your dragon, my Queen?" he began hiking up her night dress to rest on her hips.

She panted at his movements, so tender, so achingly slow and teasing. "Yes," she whimpered.

He cocked his brow at her. "What's stopping you? Claim me then."

She didn't have to be told twice. Her trembling hands moved frantically to the strings of his pants, unfastening them and pulling them down to his thighs. He hissed as she took his length into her hand, stroking it sweetly before he lifted her hips and guided her to sink down on him. Her eyes screwed shut, crying out in pleasure as she adjusted to the size of him. Neither of them moved for a moment, their breathing tense and labored.

Aemond brushed a lock of hair out of his wife's face, her forehead falling to meet his as he cradled her head with his hand. "Alright?"

"Mhm," she hummed needily, bracing herself as her hands dropped to his shoulders. Aemond's free hand moved to cover the swell of her stomach, a lazy grin forming on his lips, before finding it's way to her hips once more, helping to roll them against his. Aemond cursed, his jaw going slack as his wife unraveled above him. Once she found her footing, she picked up her pace, bobbing up and down steadily, her finger nails curling into his shoulders. His hips snapped up to meet hers, and she cried out, his name tumbling from her lips like a prayer. Something came undone in him at the sound, his hands were everywhere then, cupping her full breasts, wrapped around her throat, sinking into her thighs. He was pawing at her like she would disappear if he let go for one second, grunting like a wild animal as he rutted against her.

"So good," he captured her lips in a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth clashing. "So pretty and all mine."

She babbled something nonsensical in appraisal, her heat clenching around his cock as he worshipped her, their movements becoming sloppy as they approached their peak. "I'm so close."

"Say you love me," he demanded, fingers making their way to her pearl as he toyed with it, causing her to squeak at the touch. "Tell me again that you're mine and mine alone."

"Please," she panted, whimpering as he fucked into her relentlessly, hitting her sweet spot with each thrust. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou."

Aemond's fingers were torture, slow and taunting. "Say it." "I'm yours," she cried out. "Only yours. Please--"

"Let go," he permitted, following close behind as she toppled over the edge, back arching and eyes rolling back as she was overcome with pleasure. They were still, chests heaving and hot breath mingling as they came down from their shared orgasm. Her nimble fingers tangled into his hair, brushing it away from his sweat soaked neck. He fell back into the chair, pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her. "I would've chosen you," he broke the silence after a long moment. She lifted her head slightly to look him in the eye, confusion evident as if she had not registered what he said. "When you said that you weren't the wife I would have chosen for myself. If I had been presented with a choice, I would've chosen you."

Her gaze softened at the sincerity and raw emotion flickering in his eye. "Then choose me now. Choose our family," she gripped his shirt tightly, pleading with him. "Love me more than you hate them."

Aemond sighed deeply, covering her hands with his. "I do love you. More than anything."

"Then promise you will try." Neither wanted to admit what they both knew, that even if he did, it was too late. The King's health dwindled more and more by the day, and the wounds cut between the Greens and the Blacks were too old and too deep for even their love to heal. The time was coming where they would have to choose. War was looming and their last chance at peace had slipped through their fingers like flowing water. So they didn't, and chose in silence to carry on pretending while they still could.

Aemond cupped her face gently, and pulled her into a soft, sweet kiss. "I promise," he whispered, the sweetest of lies, and he met her lips again in a more fervent kiss.

And she let herself hope, she let her self believe, just a little while longer.

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 8 months

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What is Broken I (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, some pushing and hitting

Author's Note: It's finally here! Sorry y'all, this month a) I found out my dog has terminal cancer, b) I got covid, and c) my laptop randomly went kaput in the middle of an episode of the West Wing. But it's finally here! As it says on the taglist, this will be a three-part series.

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

It was a lovely night in King’s Landing.

There was not a cloud to be seen for miles, and the stars were bright and twinkling. The waters of Blackwater Bay were calm and reflected the full moon as clearly as a freshly polished mirror. Even the wind seemed in a pleasant mood, carrying the sweet scent of spring on its back as it drifted lazily through the windows of the Red Keep.

Every bit of it grated on her heart like a whetstone across dull steel.

The worst night of one’s life should not be so lovely, she thought. It should be terrible. With storms and an angry sea, and perhaps even a raging fire somewhere in the distance.

If the night had been so, she would not have seen it when, only a few moments ago, a massive winged form landed in the fields just outside the city with a lowing wail, the last person she wanted to see strapped to its back. Thankfully, Aemond was far enough away that she could not make him out against the mass of his mount.

The people would cheer him in the streets as he rode toward the castle. The victorious Prince, returning after long months at war, having not only ended the war itself but avenged the deaths of his eldest sister, brother, and his little nieces and nephews.

Daemon Targaryen and his dragon had perished above the God’s Eye, the waters below boiling when their bodies fell into its depths.

With the Rogue Prince gone, the war was swiftly over. Rhaenyra was killed, her last remaining son taken as King Aegon’s ward, and the royal host returned to King’s Landing victorious. Even Cregan Stark had agreed to halt his advance South, redirecting to Harrenhal for peace talks.

Harrenhal. A cursed place, now to be the site of great diplomacy.

Even thinking about the horrible castle was enough to turn her stomach.

A letter detailing exactly what had occurred within those melted stone halls during the war, written by the late Prince Daemon himself, sat on her vanity. A final act of retribution against his soon-to-be killer.

She knew that her husband was only returning home because of the letter.

My dear Princess, Despite the conflict between our sides of the family, I have always thought you a rather sweet girl. Therefore, it is with the deepest regret that I must now shoulder the burden of informing you of your beloved husband’s improper conduct during this awful conflict…

A pang of nausea shot through her stomach as she remembered the words.

A mistress… some Strong bastard… called Alys, my spies tell me… every night, without fail… from the very first week… another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb…

There was a pounding from within her, soft thumps and kicks as the life inside her own womb became unsettled by its mother’s roiling emotions. She laid a hand over her belly, whispering soothing words she did not believe to try and calm it – and herself.

Once, she would never have believed Daemon’s stories. But then word came that, after the final battle, Aemond returned to Harrenhal for less than an hour before he again mounted Vhagar and flew for King’s Landing. It was not like Aemond to make such swift decisions. Nor did it strike her as the action of an innocent man.

When she called for Ser Willis Fell, her heart had been filled with hope that the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard would dispel her worries. That she had only allowed herself to consider the possibility of Aemond’s infidelity because her mind was addled by her delicate condition.

“My princess, I cannot, in good conscience, tell you a lie…”

She had screamed then. And cried. And possibly thrown things at the Kingsguard, but she couldn’t entirely remember.

All she could remember was how Aemond kissed her on the day he left for Harrenhal. Deeply and passionately. Until she could feel his love for her as clearly as her own heartbeat. Then he knelt before her and placed a single, tender kiss to her belly, to where they had only just learned that their babe grew.

Less than a moon’s turn later, he had taken another woman to his bed, and seeded her, too.

Now he was returning home – in haste.

He knew, then. That Daemon had let slip his secret. Perhaps it had even been the Rogue Prince’s last words. Spat in Aemond’s face in the seconds before his body tumbled into the lake below. Had she not been caught in the crossfire, she might have admired it for the masterful manipulation it was.

But in seeking to destroy Aemond, Daemon had destroyed her as well.

She was broken from her thoughts by the distant sound of people cheering. Aemond was making his way through the city more quickly than she thought. The streets weren’t as crowded as she hoped they would be this late at night.

It was late. Far later than she had become accustomed to. These days, she was often in bed and asleep not long after the sun had set, hoping that she would somehow find a full night’s sleep. Never to any avail.

For a moment, she thought of slipping beneath the blankets and pretending to be asleep so she would not have to speak to Aemond until the morning. But he would only crawl into bed with her, and then he would see when she inevitably woke…

That was not a conversation she wanted to have today. Really, there was no conversation she wanted to have with Aemond, only that which must be had.

She was resolved that Aemond would not find her weeping or stewing in heartbreak. No, she would not let him think he held such power over her, even if he did. He always had, even when they were young children.

So, she resumed her nightly routine as though nothing was wrong, as if she was entirely unaffected by his betrayal. Sitting at her vanity, she began to unbraid her hair. Her maids usually did it for her, but she had dismissed them the moment she read Daemon’s letter, not wanting to see their pitying faces for longer than she had to.

Since learning she was with child, everyone – including her maids – fussed over her constantly. It was not without reason, she knew. There was indeed very good reason why everyone was so concerned about her. But after six months, she was tired of it.

Just the simple act of taking her braids out and brushing through her loose hair by herself brought a welcome feeling of independence that she had not felt in some time. Perhaps ever.

That feeling slowly faded away as the cheering and celebration from the city came closer and closer, until she could hear gauntleted hands clapping in the castle courtyard below.

Aemond was here.

Her hand fell to cradle her stomach and was immediately met by three quick thumps against her palm. She knew the child did not understand what was happening and was only responding to the touch itself, much in the same way a cat arches its back when petted.

Still, it comforted her. It made her feel like she was not alone.

“Kirimvossi, rūhossas,” she whispered with a smile before resuming brushing her hair.

Her smile did not last.

Sooner than she had hoped, she heard the clanking of armor as the guards outside her door straightened, bowed, then retreated.

A shiver went through her, stealing the air from her chest while cold gathered in her heart and began sinking to her stomach. Dragging her brush through her hair suddenly took great effort, as did every breath.

Yet it was surprisingly easy to banish the tears forming in her eyes and school her face into tired neutrality. To glance only once at the figure now lingering in the doorway before turning away without acknowledging him.

She did not know if it was strength or cowardice.

He called her name, his voice rasping and low – desperate. “We must speak.”

She did not respond. She didn’t even look at him.

Aemond sighed, calling her name again. “Please, my love. Look at me.”

Still, she did not move.

“Ābrazȳrītsos,” he said, a hint of command slipping into his plea. Little wife.

He had always loved calling her little. According to their mother, the first thing Aemond did when he saw her as a babe was exclaim, “She’s so little!”

Ever since, he’d been calling her little.

First, she was simply hāedus. Little sister.

Whenever she tried to follow Aemond when he went somewhere she wasn’t allowed or did something she wasn’t allowed to do, he would gently scold her, “Haedus, you’re too little.” Inevitably, she would cry. About half the time, her crying was enough to sway him.

Then, she became zaldrīzītsos. Little dragon.

“You’re my zaldrīzītsos,” he would say when she hugged him tightly after Aegon or one of the Strong boys mocked him for not having a dragon. She didn’t have one either, but she never felt she needed one, for she had Aemond.

For a time, she was maegītsos. Little witch.

Aemond had dubbed her so when she came to visit him in the Maester’s tower while he recovered from the loss of his eye. The Maester would give her some “special leaves” so she could brew a “magic potion” to help Aemond get better. In truth, the potion was simply tea. But Aemond always pretended that the potion had indeed worked miracles, just to make her happy.

Once he was healed, she was again zaldrīzītsos.

Since he finally had a true dragon, she worried that he would not want her anymore. When she came to him in tears one day as he was leaving the Keep to see Vhagar, he hugged her tightly and told her, “You will always be my zaldrīzītsos.” Then he brought her with him to ride Vhagar. It was the best day of her life.

Or it was, until the day they were officially betrothed, and she became raqiarzītsos. Little darling.

It was what he would call her every morning when he greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek. How he would summon her to his side at court events. What he moaned when they kissed unchastely each evening before saying goodnight.

She had been so excited when she became his ‘ābrazȳrītsos.’ The first time he had whispered it in her ear at the wedding feast, she’d blushed so brightly that their grandsire inquired about her health. The next time he said it, Aemond made sure they were alone.

Little sister. Little dragon. Little witch. Little darling. Little wife.

Always little.

Once, the names had made her heart flutter with delight. Now, they only prompted another wave of nausea.

Aemond was everything to her – he always had been. She thought he felt the same way, but it seemed she was wrong. To him, she was just “little.”

She flinched at the sound of his voice, of that word. How he spoke to her like she was some frightened animal poised to lash out.

Yet at the same time, her heart melted to hear the voice she loved so dearly after so long an absence. Merely the sight of him in the mirror sent a feeling of warmth and belonging flooding through her.

She hated him.

She loved him.

She was angrier at him than she had ever been in her life.

She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms.

She could do nothing but continue to brush her hair and stare into her reflection.

Aemond sighed, finally stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. “You won’t even look at me, ābrazȳrītsos?”

She gave no answer.

He whispered her name again, “Abrazȳrītsos, please,” Aemond’s voice turned quiet as he reached her and set a hand on her shoulder as if to turn her around by force, but she wrenched herself out of his grip, staring down at the floor. Though she did not look at him, she could almost feel the misery on his face. “Please look at me.”

“If I look at you, I fear I will be sick,” she explained weakly. “I don’t want to harm the babe.”

His irritation began to surge, she knew it even without seeing him. His breathing quickened slightly, and she could hear the creaking of leather as he rolled his shoulders and balled his hands into fists – he had been so hurried he had not yet taken off his riding gloves.

“You are my wife,” he huffed. She could hear him attempt to contain the sharp edge of barely contained anger in his soft voice. At least he was considerate enough to hide it. “You are my sister – my blood. You love me as I love you, and you carry my child within you. Yet you cannot even look at me?”

Fury roared to life like a surging flame within her. How dare he be angry with her when he is the one who ruined everything?

“Why did you come back?” she spat back, quietly yet viciously.

His stare continued to weigh on her through the mirror. “I promised you the day I left that I would return to you when the war was done,” he said, half-smiling at the memory. “The war is over, so here I am.”

She shook her head. “The war is not over.”

“Of course, it is. Daemon and Rhaenyra are dead, and – ”

“The fighting is over,” she corrected. “But the war is not finished. Peace must still be brokered. As Prince Regent, that is your responsibility. Yet you are here rather than with the rest of the soldiers and politicians at Harrenhal. Why?”

She wanted him to be the one to say it.

Aemond sighed, raising a hand to touch her, then pulling away. “Is it so hard to believe that I missed you and simply couldn’t stand to stay away a moment longer?”

She was moving before she could process what she was doing, standing from the vanity and turning to face Aemond, her hand raised and ready to strike.

But he caught her arm by the wrist, stopping her moments before her palm could impact his cheek – his scarred cheek. His eye was wide, filled with sadness and shock in equal measure. He turned to look at her hand as if it was some kind of curiosity he had never seen before, like he couldn’t understand how it could ever be raised against him.

Tears were spilling down her cheeks when he turned back to her, and his expression gave over entirely to despair. Aemond opened his mouth, but words failed him.

He lowered her hand gently, bowing his head slightly to the right to give her an easier target.

It broke something within her.

She dove toward him, wrapping her arms around him as she cried into his chest, clinging to him as if he were her the only thing keeping her anchored to the ground.

But the moment Aemond moved to return the embrace, she shoved him away. It only moved him a step back, still within her reach. He did not move closer, and when she began to pound her fists furiously against his chest, he didn’t try to stop her.

“Why did you come back?” she demanded as she pushed him once more. “Why did you not just stay in Harrenhal with your whore and leave us alone?”

Aemond did not respond. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing. He could do nothing but stare at her, his eye flitting between her belly, where his child had grown –so much he could hardly believe it – in his absence, to her eyes.

Those eyes. A warm, rich brown that shone with gold in the firelight. It was Aemond’s favorite color. For whenever he saw it, in her eyes or their mother’s, he knew he was home.

But now those eyes he loved so dearly were filled with tears of his own making. He wanted nothing more than to see them dry and sparkling with love once more.

“Abrazȳrītsos, you must know I will always return to you,” he begged, stepping forward and cautiously placing a hand on her belly. Almost immediately, he felt a stirring within her, and a weak pushing against him.

His child.

Was it reaching for him, or pushing him away?

Before he could truly ponder either answer, his wife pulled away from him, her arms curling protectively around her abdomen.

He had to say something. Something to take her pain away, to make everything well again so he would have the chance to hold her and the babe. Even if it was a lie, he would say it if it made her forgive him.

“Raqiarzītsos,” he started, only for her to take another step away and scowl at him. He sighed as the realization of how deeply had hurt her truly sunk in. He softly called her name, “My love, it was one mistake. One moment of weakness, I swear –”

“Liar!” Her voice had grown rough with her fury, and Aemond flinched at the sound. He had never heard her shout like that, not even when she was a babe herself.

She saw his discomfort and reveled in it. Seeing him suffer a fraction of what she felt gave her a sinful spark of joy, one that she felt no need to beg forgiveness from the Seven for. She turned away from him and retrieved the letter from Daemon, panting as she looked over the words once more.

“A mistress now lies in your husband’s bed. She was a wetnurse at Harrenhal, some Strong bastard. She must be something truly special, for she is the only Strong – trueborn or bastard – to have survived Aemond’s rather thorough purging of the bloodline. I suppose it is now clear why. I have not been able to learn much about her. She is called Alys, my spies tell me.”

With smoldering eyes, she turned to Aemond and began to read aloud. “She reports to your husband’s chambers every night without fail, as she has done from the very first week he arrived at that cursed place. One of my spies even reported that he calls her to him after each battle or razing of some poor Riverlanders, as well as anytime he feels frustrated. It is no surprise, then, that there is another bastard babe in the whore’s witchly womb. Your brothers do have a fondness for seeding unsuitable women, don’t they?”

When she looked up from the letter, she found Aemond’s face set in anger, his fingers curled as though they were aching to grip his sword and run someone through. His eye flew from the letter to her face, the rage burning there only softening for a moment.

The left corner of Aemond’s mouth twitched upward involuntarily, and he jerked his head to the side to try and hide it. “You would believe Daemon’s word over mine, abrazȳrītsos? After all he has done?”

She let the letter drift back to the table. “If all I had was his word, I would not have believed it,” she explained. “But it is not only his word.”

Aemond exhaled slowly, looking away from her. Incensed as he was, he would not make her the target of his ire. Never her. “Will you tell me who else?”

“No,” she answered, shaking her head slightly. There was a dark glint in his eye that promised violent retribution upon whoever she would name. No one deserved torture, or perhaps even death, for telling the truth.

With a nod, Aemond closed his eyes and bowed his head. He would not press her further, though she knew he would likely still try to find out who it was by other means. But in that moment, she could not bring herself to care.

She was so tired.

She had anticipated a long fight, and thought she was ready for it. In the hours she waited for Aemond’s return, she had carefully tended the spark of her anger so it would burn only when she commanded. But the moment she saw him, it escaped her grasp and became a wildfire in a dry grassland. It was fierce, quick, and lethal. In an instant, it had consumed every bit of her strength, leaving only the barest smoldering remains in its wake.

After a few more silent moments, Aemond again opened his eyes and looked down at his wife.

“I will not insult your intelligence by trying to deny it any further,” he said, clenching his fist to stop himself from reaching for her, “and I know there is nothing I can say to excuse what I have done. But my love, I truly am sorry. For what I did, and for the hurt I have caused you.”

She stared at him, trying to detect and hint of insincerity. She found none.

“I love you. I know I have given you ample reason to doubt that but…” he swallowed thickly. “I do love you, abrazȳrītsos. I always have and I always will. I know in my heart that the gods made us for each other. And if they had fated us to others, I swear I would have defied their will and ripped them from the heavens so that I could love you.”

He licked his lips and removed his gloves before offering her his shaking hand.

Perhaps it was the result of the weariness pervading her entire being. Perhaps it was the tug of an unborn babe reaching out, somehow knowing its father was near. Perhaps it was the sliver of her soul that had always belonged to Aemond beckoning her to rejoin him and become whole again.

Whatever the reason, despite the protestations of her aching heart and her rational mind, she put her hand in his.

It did not fit as well as it used to.

If Aemond noticed, he did not acknowledge it. He raised their joined hands to his lips to kiss before resuming his plea. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I will understand if you do not give it, but for the sake of my heart and the love we share, I must ask it. Abrazȳrītsos, can you ever forgive me?”

The world fell silent, and so did she.

If she focused, she could hear her heartbeat, along with two others, thumping out three different rhythms. It was discordant, yet somehow comforting. She listened to it for a moment, trying to hear a melody within it. But there was nothing.

She turned her attention to her hand in Aemond’s grasp. There was a welcome heat where his skin touched hers, but also a tingling numbness. A slight discomfort, akin to wearing new gloves before they had softened and molded to her hands.

Then, she looked at Aemond. At the face that was more familiar to her than her own. It had changed in the last six months – more so than she would have expected. The color of his skin had deepened from so many days spent in the sun, and there were new blemishes that had not been there before. The shadows under his eyes, the roughness where it once was smooth, and the new smudge of a scar above the corner of his right brow.

All of it was strange. Known, yet unknown. Question, but no answer.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“What…” Aemond’s lip quirked again as he cupped her cheek with his free hand. “I don’t understand, what don’t you know, my love?”

She winced slightly at the foreign sensation of his hand against her skin. He had callouses now he didn’t have before. “I don’t know how to forgive you, or if I even want to. I just feel… tired.”

Aemond nodded, bowing his head once more to hide the disappointment he could not keep from his face, and looked at her belly. “Of course, you are tired,” he said, “I am sorry, I did not consider how late it was.”

She caught his eye flicking towards the bed – their bed, or at least, it used to be. A cold coil of panic began to wrap itself around her heart. He could not sleep here. He could not see…

“I would prefer if you slept elsewhere,” she said hastily before he could ask otherwise. “For tonight, I would like to be alone.”

Tears shone in Aemond’s eye for a moment, but he did not let them fall. He gave her a tight smile and again kissed her hand. “If that is what you wish, I will obey, but may I ask one thing?”

It would be foolish to say yes. Foolish to give him the opportunity to persuade her at all when she knew how easily he had always been able to sway her with his sweet words. Foolish to do anything but send him away immediately.

And yet…

“What would you ask?” she whispered, betrayed by the foolish little part of her heart and soul that was still and would always be his ‘hāedus.’

“I ask only for a few moments, and then I will leave, as you wish. But it has been half a year, abrazȳrītsos, since I have seen you, or heard your voice, or held you in my arms.” He squeezed her hand, drawing her attention to his face, open and earnest and pleading. “So for only a few moments, please, allow me to hold you again.”

His softly spoken words were like a siren’s song, and she began to feel faint as she struggled to resist falling under its spell. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, begging her mind to calm and think clearly.

“I promise, I will do nothing more than hold you,” he said, running his hand delicately over her cheek. “I just want to hold my wife.”

He did not deserve it, she knew. Nor did he deserve to be touching her as he did now, though she did not push him away. He did not even deserve her consideration of his request.

But it had been half a year for her, too.

Half a year with no one to kiss her good morning or good night. No one to carry her to bed when her legs and back ached. No one to hold her hair and whisper soothing words when she was sick.

She’d had her mother, her sister, and her maids. Even a Maester, at one very low point. But that was not the same. It was not the touch of a beloved husband.

Despite her anger, she was aching to be held by him.

“Just for a few moments,” she whispered through trembling lips. “Then you must leave.”

She did not have time to regret her decision before Aemond pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead as he thanked her. And before she could pull away, he was turning her slowly, so her back was pressed flush against his chest.

“It’s alright,” he assured her when she made a soft noise of confusion. “Trust me, abrazȳrītsos.”

His hands skated down her arms, his touch featherlight and yet searing. She gasped as he began to cradle her belly, her head lolling back into his shoulder. If given one more breath, she would have pushed him away, but then…

He laced his fingers together and took the weight of her belly into his own arms.

It was a rapturous feeling, to have the burden of it lifted from her and her eternally aching spine, even for a moment. She sighed in relief and leaned back further into her husband. Gratitude flooded through her, and her hands flew to rest over his.

“Oh, Aemond,” she breathed into his neck.

Gods, she had missed him so much. Everything would have been so much easier if he’d been here to hold her like this. He had always known been able to help her, she should have known that even with their first child, he would somehow know what to do…

Her eyes snapped open, and her blood ran cold.

This was their first child, but it was not Aemond’s only child.

He had another, far away, within a different mother. A mother whom he had been there for as she grew, Who, thanks to her role as a wetnurse, would be able to teach him exactly how to help.

“Did you hold Alys like this?”

Aemond stiffened behind her, and his grip tightened. “Abrazȳrītsos…”

“Don’t lie to me, Aemond. Not anymore.”

Silence, then…

“Yes, I did.”

She seized his hands and ripped them apart, tearing herself out of his grasp as quickly as she could, heedless of him reaching for her. Stumbling, she crossed the room before turning back to him, eyes blazing through new tears.

“Do not ever touch me like you touched her,” she spat. Her rage had reignited, the barren grassland now an endless field of flame.

Aemond’s mouth hung open as he looked to her in despair, his arms held helplessly in front of him. His voice broke as he said her name – a plea. “I just wanted to hold you. To help you.”

“And you did. For a few moments, just as you asked. Now leave, as you promised.”

He was looking at her like she was a wild beast, primed to lash out should he make one wrong move. But she didn’t mind, for that was exactly what she felt like. He had made her feel that way, and she hated him for it.

Aemond just stood there, and she could see his mind working desperately to figure out what to say to placate her. She would not give him the chance.

“Leave!” she screamed, her voice ripping its way out of her throat, burning as it went. She could not help but wonder if that was what dragons felt when they breathed fire.

Lowering his arms, Aemond nodded. “I will leave, abrazȳrītsos. Just as I promised. I am sorry.”

“I don’t care.” She meant it. His apology meant absolutely nothing to her raging, broken heart.

She watched him carefully as he turned and walked through the door, ready to rage at him again if she needed to. Perhaps she would actually breathe fire the next time.

Aemond did not try anything to soothe her or convince her to change her mind. The warrior prince knew when a battle was lost. But she knew he had not yet ceded the war.

That much was clear when he paused in the doorway, looking back at her in determination. “I love you, abrazȳrītsos, and nothing will ever change that.”

Then he closed the door, and was gone.

But she could not stop crying, for she knew he would return.

Worse, she knew that as angry as she was, she loved him, too. And nothing would ever change that, either.

882 notes · View notes

li0nn3stuff · 1 month

Text

You ask Aemond about Alys

English is not my first language, be kind.

Modern!Aemond x fem!Reader

About Modern!Aemond and Modern!Alys Masterlist

Warnings: kissing, talking of: sex, kinks, toxic relationship, domestic violence, violent sex, rape kink, degradation, cheating. Alys.

Aemond and his girlfriend had just come home after dinner with some of their friends, when she asked him something he never would have heard.

“Tell me about Alys.” She asked as they took off their jacket and coat, slipping out of their shoes.

His expression hardened at the name of his ex-girlfriend. He hated hearing her name, remembering her.

“No.” He said in a cold tone, taking her coat and hanging it as she put away their shoes.

“Why not?” She insisted as they went in the kitchen, grabbing two glasses and the water from the fridge.

“Because I don’t want to.” He grunted, pouring the water in the glasses. His tone is still the same and he keeps staring at the glasses ahead of him. He remains silent, simply refusing to say anything about his ex, as in his mind he replays in his head what happened the last time he saw her. He closed his eye and shook his head, ashamed of that memory.

“I want to know about her.” She said, walking to him, hugging him from behind and resting her head on his back.

He sighed and got silent for a second. His tone became serious as he started speaking. His eyes were focused on the wall ahead of him.

“Why do you have to stick your nose in something that doesn’t regard you? Uh?!”

He was pissed, he knew she would have kept asking until he would eventually tell her. She pulled away from him, taking her glass and leaning back on the table.

“Jeez, what has she done to make you react like this now?”

He turned towards her but he kept his eye fixed on the wall ahead. She could tell he was thinking of something unpleasant as he stayed silent for a moment before sighing and starting to speak again.

“You don’t need to know what she did, okay?”

He didn’t look at her as he waited for her response, but his voice is not as angry as a moment ago.

“But I want to.”

God, she was stubborn.

His tone is still serious, but he doesn’t reply right away, he looks down at the floor, and after a few seconds he speaks again:

“Why do you want to know that so bad?”

“I’m curious.” She raised her shoulders as if she was saying something obvious. “You told me she was older than you.” She added then

Hearing the word ‘older’ he seemed to be more uncomfortable. He sighed deeply and he spoke again.

“Yes she was older than me.” He admitted coldly.

“How much?” She sipped her water, interested.

“She was thirty-five.” He glanced at her to catch her reaction, but she looked calm, just curiosity in her expression. She took her time to ask her next question.

“How old were you?”

Silence. His tone is now more stern.

“Seventeen.” He kept looking at her, studying her expression, but it didn’t falter, he still saw no judgment in her face.

“So… you were underage.” She stated. He stayed silent again for a while before speaking.

“Yes, I was.” His eye drifted back to the floor, as he clenched and unclenched his hand around the glass. She pressed her lips together.

“How did you meet her?” She took another sip of her glass, looking away from him.

The question brings back some memories, but he remains serious. His tone was more bitter, as he turned his head to the side.

“At a party. Aegon dragged me into a club.”

She smiled to break the tension, and hummed in amusement.

“That sounds like Aegon.”

He stayed silent for a moment before slowly nodding his head a bit. She could tell he started speaking with more anger. He’s not yelling, not answering meanly, but she could see he was holding back.

“Yeah, sounds like him. And it was because of him I even saw her in the very first place.”

She hummed and looked away. She was the one to bring up the topic, yet she felt uncomfortable hearing about Alys, but since he was answering her, she decided to keep going.

“So how did you two… you know… got together?”

His tone is colder and the bitterness in his voice increases.

“She approached me.” He stares at the water in his glass. If he thought about it enough, he could still smell her perfume, or hear her voice, even if it was now… five years ago.

“Mh. What was she like?”

She hated that she wanted to know that, but she was curious, she wanted the image of that woman in her head, even if what he could say would have hurt her or made her burn with jealousy.

He stops for a moment, thinking about how he could describe her.

“Dark eyes and hair, a bit curvy. Always nails, hair and makeup done. She always used this… red lipstick of hers. Rarely saw her without it. She always wore dresses that would shape her perfectly and show her breast.”

She was perfect.

She looked away, feeling a pain in her chest, and jealous of how that woman apparently always appeared perfect. Aemond looked at her, he put down his glass on the counter and stepped closer to her, taking her hand and kissing its back.

“She was beautiful, charming, and charismatic, but she was manipulative, mean and...” He sighed and looked away, leaving the phrase unfinished. “She acted in a kind and loving way towards me, at least in the beginning.”

“What about after?” She looked up at him, as he cupped her cheek with his hand, and she covered it with her own hand.

“It became a nightmare.” She furrowed her eyebrows, confused and concerned.

“What do you mean?” She asked worriedly.

He stays silent for a few seconds but his anger is obvious in his voice.

“She changed, or, well, she showed herself for who she really is. She was no longer the woman I met at the club. Her charming and loving behavior disappeared and she started to treat me horribly. She cheated on me often. Despite that she managed to keep me in her claws for three years.” He said in a mixture of shame and anger.

“How did she treat you?” She asked then, getting more worried.

Silence. His tone was very bitter and he seemed to be almost on the verge of losing his temper. This was a sensitive topic for him.

“She was verbally... and physically abusive towards me. She hit me on several occasions and did several other horrendous things I’d rather not describe.” He couldn’t look at her. He felt stupid. He felt stupid even after all that time, and he was ashamed of telling her how stupid he had been.

“Then why did you stay with her?”

At first, he didn’t answer her question and his tone remained bitter and frustrated as he stayed silent for a moment. When he started speaking again, he was clearly not happy to answer the question she just asked. He still sounded bitter and angry as he started to explain.

“Because she made me feel she was the only person who really understood me, that she was the only one who truly loved me.... That I wasn't worth it and I was nothing... And that no one else would ever want me other than her, or other things like that..”

She was surprised.

What the fuck?

She was… horrible. Who could even think of saying such things?

“… Wha- What kind of other things did she say to you?”

He looked at her in despair, but he knew she wanted to know, so he just talked.

“She used to say that I was ugly, that I was a disappointment, that I was too insecure, and that I was weak... that I would never be enough... I would have never been able to find another woman... That I would be alone forever.”

She felt like crying. He had to go through all of this? She wanted to keep him close and protect him from everything, everyone. He didn’t deserve that. Sure, he was complicated and a bit of a douche sometimes, but no one deserves such treatment. No one.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. She was cruel.”

He stayed silent for a moment but his tone indicated that her words helped him calm down a bit. He was less angry and less tense.

“Yes... She really was cruel. But I guess that's who she was all along, and I didn't notice it back then… But I think what I’ll never forgive her is that she made me a freak.”

She looked at him pained and even more confused.

“What? What does it mean she made you a freak?”

He didn’t respond right away and his tone became much more frustrated, he looked… ashamed.

“She was… my first time, and she was into some… crazy, disgusting things… and she kind of passed them to me, or at least, now I’m into some of those things too.”

She paused. She tried to elaborate his words.

“Like what?”

“I told you they’re disgusting. Why do you want to know? You’ll only get scared or… or you’ll be disgusted with me.”

She frowned.

“What? No. I won’t. Aemond, I won’t. Tell me.”

He seemed to consider your words again and again, taking his time to speak. He was embarrassed but he nodded and slowly started speaking again. He still kept his eyes down as he spoke.

“She was into painful things. Some very unpleasant things.”

“…Okay. Like what?” She softly encouraged him to say more.

The uncomfortable atmosphere was almost palpable. This was not a subject he wanted to talk about, but still, she could feel the burden that was placed on him. He was silent but finally he started to speak again, he sounded much more bitter. She could tell that this was something that really bothered him and hurt deep down but he would not go into much detail.

“She liked it rough. Like really rough. More rough than what we’ve ever done. She liked… to be slapped, she liked it violent.” He paused, as if to contemplate if he should have gone further, say it all. He sighed and he decided to be honest. “She liked some roleplay, but she was always the dominant part. So… I started fantasizing, and… I… I got into… like haunting roleplay. Haunting the prey and… once I caught her…” Rape her. He couldn’t finish it. He was too ashamed to say it out loud, but it was clear she understood. Yet, all she did was nod, she didn’t judge him. Though it was new for her seeing Aemond ashamed of something regarding sex. He was usually straight forward, confident.

“Obviously that would be consensual, I…” He sighed and looked away.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“No, I really think you don’t. I like it violent, disgustingly violent. I want to be the one to give it, not receive it.” He growled, as if he wanted to scare her away, as if he wanted her to be disgusted by him.

“I do understand, Aemond. I do.” She repeated softly. He shook his head and passed his hand over his face, rubbing his eye.

“How can you not be disgusted?” He mumbled, his face getting red with a mixture of frustration, anger and shame.

“You… You like what you like, there is no point in judging you. I know I can trust you.” She said with a soft smile. Aemond looked at her.

She was perfect.

It was all he could think. He leant forward suddenly and kissed her deeply, as she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and kept him close.

She was perfect.

He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, drinking in all of her, her taste, smell, her soft touch.

She was perfect, and she was his.

He pulled away and she smiled at him, caressing his cheek.

“Can I ask more?” She asked, and Aemond smiled. Her curiosity amused him, he was even more amused as now she asked instead of just insisting. He knew she was dying to know more.

“Yes.” He leant back on the counter as she unwrapped her arms from his neck and caressed his arms.

“Did she do something you didn’t like?” She asked then. Aemond nodded.

“Yes, but I… I always let her do it anyway.” He said, and she nodded, waiting for him to continue talking.

“She would… hurt me. She liked painful things, humiliation, degradation and violence.”

She bit her lower lip as she looked at him in pity. She knew very well Aemond was not into those kinds of things, actually, he was right the opposite. He had enough trouble during his childhood with his eye and bullying that he could never handle going back to being ashamed or weakened because of it, again. She put her glass down and she went to hug him.

“Oh, baby… I’m sorry I’ve made you go this far. I was just really curious.” She says sadly. Aemond hugs her back but after a while he pulls her away.

“No, it’s fine. I want to tell you.” He rubbed the back of his head as he looked away. “You might be the best person to tell this stuff to.” He added. She smiled softly, nodding.

“She… she used to treat me like a child, actually. If I did something wrong she would… punish me, let’s say that. She would ride me as punishment, slapping me and degrading me as she did so.” He took her hand as he looked down at it, and he started playing with her nails. “She was mean, before, and during sex, but she… she was nicer after it, telling me now I could go back to being good for her… she played nice for a while, so I wouldn’t go away. Not that I would have anyway, I… It was like I was addicted to her. She knew it and she used it. She used me.” Aemond clenched his jaw tightly as she kept looking at him worriedly.

“Aemond… but you got out of it.” She stated, putting a hand over his to reassure him. His expression contorted into one of disgust, and shame.

“I… It wasn’t nice, what I did. How I left.” He said in disgust. She put a hand on his cheek and turned his face to her, smiling at him softly, looking him in the eye.

“I’m sure she deserved what you did.” She said confident, but Aemond immediately looked away.

“No. Don’t say that, you don’t know that. You can’t know that.” He said angrily.

“Aemond, after what you’ve told me, I doubt you did so much worse than what she did. You were…” She shook her head, not really knowing what to say, but Aemond continued for her.

“What? I was what? Younger? I should have known better.” He says with his voice full of bitterness.There is a long moment of silence, as she looks down as he keeps playing with her nails and fingers, and he goes back to looking at her.

“If you could go back, would you have done something different?” She asks then, still looking down. He sighs and he intertwines his fingers with hers.

“No. I wouldn’t. What I did to her… It was… fair, but that doesn’t change the fact that… It was horrible.” Again, she took her time to answer. Then, she looked back up to him.

“Just like she treated you.” Aemond pressed his lips together and turned his head to the side, frustrated. She kept defending what he did like it was right, and he hated it. He felt guilty, he felt he had to feel guilty.

“You just can’t say things like that. You weren’t fucking there, you know nothing.”He spat out. she didn’t get offended, she knew he wasn’t angry with her, he was angry with himself, with his past, with Alys.

“Is she alive? Yes, is she fine? Yes.” She stated, and keeping his head turned, he glanced at her.

“You don’t know what I did to her.” She nodded, and took a deep breath.

“Do you want to tell me?” She asked softly, caressing his hand.

“No. Not yet.” He looked back down, as images of that memory flashed in front of him.

She hugged him, and he immediately hid his face in her neck, bending down due to the height difference. He just wanted to forget, and be happy, even if he wasn’t sure he deserved it. He wasn’t even sure if he deserved to be with someone like her. She passed her fingers in his hair as she massaged his scalp.

He loved her.

Is this what love is?

All he wanted to do was keep her close all the time, feel her all the time, look at her all the time. He never had enough of her, not even of her stubbornness. She had her attitude, but just as he had his. Yet, he thought, he never felt he could fit better with someone. He knew she was the one.

He hugged her tighter as she responded by kissing his neck.

She was the one. He would never let her go. There was no better place for her better than his side, just like for him, it was her side. She pulled away from the hug and took his hand, talking softly.

“Let’s go lay down, yeah?”

366 notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 11 months

Text

cardigan (02/03)

tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy.

pairing: modern!aemond × best friend reader!

summary: being in love with your best friend since high school becomes a strong and unavoidable feeling. until it starts to become more difficult when you get to college and the two of you, especially him, meet new people.

word count: 8.4k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

As you're looking down at yourself, making sure there's nothing out of place, you just hear the loud sound of Sara inhaling deeply which makes you startle and you watch her quickly in panic.

hello! i just want to say that i can't believe how much you guys loved the first part. the story just exploded hehe. I'm so grateful for that, for your support and your opinions, I didn't think it would happen so soon, thank you very much.

i wanted to give you part two after such a quick acknowledgement and support, truly thank you so much and also let me know what you think of this second part please, i love reading and responding to you. enjoy!

"You like this one?"

"What?"

"No fucking way, Y/N! You look amazing!"

And at that moment you can feel the color come back to your face and you calm down.

"Come here!" she asks you excitedly, "I want to take a closer look."

You stand in front of her and turn on your own axis to get a better look at yourself in the large full-length mirror, instantly liking what you see.

Last year your dress for the Targaryen ball was red. And you don't usually repeat colors. So now you've chosen a deep ocean blue dress.

Which is Aemond's favorite color.

"This is the one, definitely."

"Really?" you put your hair behind your shoulders, watching you carefully, "Is this one better than the last one?"

"In my opinion the style is better."

You've tried on dresses of the same color in different styles before and honestly… you liked this one better than the others.

It's a long dress open at an angle exposing your left leg. It has no neckline, is strapless and shimmers in a metallic shade beautifully.

This is it.

You think definitely more convinced than ever as you look in the mirror after a few more inspections. You'll shine brighter with your hair and makeup done, you know it and you know you'll look beautiful. That's why you can't wait for the day to come.

You can't wait for Aemond to see you.

"And why did you choose this color?"

"Because it's Aemond's favorite color and it will match his sapphire."

"Oh yes," says Sara in a reminiscent tone, "I had forgotten that detail about your best friend."

"His sapphire eye?"

"Yes."

"But if that's precisely why everyone at the university knows him."

"They also know him for his hair and for apparently having come from the very palace of the Greek gods, don't forget," she says, also amused.

You let out a small laugh.

"Yeah, it's true."

After a little silence between the two of them where they inspect the dress, Sara stirs a little and seems to fight against herself to say what she wants to say. Until she grimaces and nerves invade her as she speaks.

"Listen Y/N…" she says cautiously, "It's not that I want to be nosy or anything, in fact I don't like to know people's things about things like…" she bites the inside of her cheek "That seem very delicate" she says finally "And it's that I'm very curious, I—

"You're a gossip, Sara," you remind him in an amused tone, interrupting her.

"Well… yeah, it's true, who am I kidding," she nods in acknowledgment, shrugging her shoulders and you laugh.

"You want to know what happened to Aemond's eye?"

"Yes," she murmurs, almost embarrassed, "But it's just out of curiosity and if it's something very personal then I understand."

You take a long breath and look away from the mirror to observe her.

"Yes, it's very personal," you tell her, "I can only tell you that it was a horrible accident that happened to him as a kid. He still finds it a little difficult to talk about it, even with his mother and sister."

"Yes, of course," Sara nods sympathetically, "In fact something like that I had imagined."

You nod too, sympathetically, thinking about it.

"At first, when I met Aemond in high school and we started our friendship, he didn't want to tell me," you confess, "It's not as if I insisted on the matter, of course not... but he knew I was curious about it. And it wasn't until after he was sure that I wasn't a fake friend, as I was with him, that we both confided a lot of things to each other until he told me about his accident."

"How old was he?" she ask attentively and curiously.

"Barely ten."

Sara raises her eyebrows in surprise with a face of pity.

"Ten?" she repeats in a murmur, "Wow. I can't even imagine. It must have been pretty awful, huh?"

"It was," you assure her.

You know Aemond has only told about what happened to you and a guy who was his best friend in high school, who now that guy got into another college in another state.

And what happened was that Aemond defended his little nephew, Luke, from some boys who were picking on him and wanting to almost beat him up at school.

But the blows went to Aemond who had to defend himself as best he could against four boys even a little bigger than he was at the time.

Then one of the boys did not measure his strength, hit him and pushed him too, and because of the push Aemond fell on top of a net of wires that made up a small garden in the huge backyard of the school.

They didn't even let him get up, so Aemond also hurt some parts of his body.

And out of desperation, before he could try to do anything, another one of the boys hit him in the face and that's when a piece of wire ripped his eye as he turned his head towards the wires from the blow.

When Aemond was telling you everything, you didn't even know what to say.

And the best punishment the bully boys could have received was to have been expelled. But it wasn't enough for Aemond and his family. They had taken his eye and that was 'justice'.

Luckily his whole family supported him and was there for him through the whole difficult process of doctors appointments, therapies, medications and so on.

His uncle Daemon especially made sure he received the best possible treatment with the best doctors and nurses while his older sister, Rhaenyra, searched for solutions to his lost eye along with his mother.

"And why does he have that sapphire? Didn't he think about a prosthesis or something like that?"

"As a kid, all he wanted was to recover and cope with the physical and emotional pain, and also to get used to his only right sight," you explain, "And then he told me he was thinking about it, but it's been a long time. Maybe he has already got used to the sapphire."

"And it doesn't hurt him?" asks Sara curiously, thoughtfully.

"No, he always has his appointments with the ophthalmologist," you let her know, "I guess the sapphire is to maintain an appearance. Kind of like what rich people do."

"Oh, of course," Sara nods with more understanding, "It makes perfect sense vonsidering how exaggeratedly rich he and his family are."

You let out a small laugh, turning to look at yourself in the mirror at the beautiful dress.

"Yes, they are," you murmur, "Are you sure your aunt will let me pay her weekly?" you ask, looking at her again a little worried.

"I already told you yes, Y/N. Stop worrying," she says amused.

"But she already knows?" you ask distrustful.

"Yes, she knows," she assures you for the eighth time, "She just said that by the time you decide to stop paying for it for one reason or another, there is no refund and you have to return the dress. And if you tear it, stain it or something, you pay extra."

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," you make a nonchalant gesture, "I'm definitely going to finish paying for it."

You think about how the dress is so beautiful that it doesn't deserve to be worn for just one occasion. You can wear it to another event, not necessarily just the ball.

And after you've picked out the last dress, you both leave the dressing room, secure everything for payment, and Sara takes you home and you both say goodbye saying you will see each other tomorrow in class.

When you arrive at the apartment, only Vhagar greets you, to which you assume that Aemond must still be in class or with his girlfriend.

So you decide to take Vhagar with you to your room to do some homework and wait for Aemond to arrive to have dinner together.

And by the time you finally hear his arrival at the apartment, you take Vhagar in your arms and leave your room to ask him how his day was and what he wants for dinner tonight to see if it matches what you want.

But the words get stuck in your throat the moment you see him and your eyes meet his, watching him in shock, definitely not expecting this.

And at your reaction of saying nothing and continuing to stare at him in disbelief, he lets out a small laugh as he runs a hand through his neck and hair.

"What do you think?"

And that's when you seem to remember how to talk.

"No way," you mutter, "Are you fucking kidding?"

"As I understand it, your head can't grow, Y/N. At least not at this age," he tells you amused.

"Shit," you say still in disbelief, "It looks fucking amazing, Aemond!" you finally react with a huge smile.

He has cut his hair.

His fucking long hair is now short and he looks so ridiculously good, like it's not an everyday thing, as well as he looks even better than before and even... sexy.

And in an instant you're all over him, running your fingers through now his short, silky, still straight hair with some waves at the ends that now point slightly upwards.

Even his face, his figure, his sapphire, everything about him looks better than before just because of a haircut.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, still surprised and puzzled, with a small smile.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he says with a smile, "What do you say, do you really like it?"

"I love it," you confess, "Even you, everything about you—

You stop, not wanting to look nervous, not wanting to insinuate your true feelings for him through his new appearance.

That's why you think very well what you will say before you speak, controlling yourself not to say anything too much.

"Well... it looks better," you finally say.

"Thank you, pretty one."

He smiles at you and you melt at the sight of his expression, simply because of the gesture accompanied by his new cut, so you couldn't be more ridiculous, but you can't help it either.

You find it so attractive and so striking the way you watch his dimples form and look, even they so damn good, again, because of his new haircut.

"I hope Alys likes it too."

You bite your lips, not wanting to focus on his comment at the mention of his girlfriend.

"And why did you decide to cut it?" you ask not to talk about her, acting nonchalant but still feeling surprised.

"I thought it would be a good idea to cut it for the ball," he confesses, "It's this weekend and I thought I'd do it now because I knew I wouldn't do it later."

You both laugh, as that is very Aemond Targaryen and you both know it.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," you say with a small smile, "I've got everything ready for the ball too."

"Oh really?" he raises his eyebrows, interested, "Now what color dress did you choose?"

"Nope. No details."

You turn away from him in an instant and head to the fridge to finally make dinner, because you know if he keeps looking at you and talking like that, you'll end up showing him everything.

"Oh come on, Y/N."

"I'm so sorry but you'll have to wait for the day."

"Are you serious?" he asks you.

"Even your new haircut isn't going to convince me."

"Hmm."

He certainly says with a disappointed tone and you let out a laugh.

"Be patient, Aemond. Now..." You look at him, "What do you want for dinner?"

You and Aemond talk about what his mother has told him she has planned this time for the ball with his sister Rhaenyra while you prepare dinner and listen to him at the same time. And when everything is ready, you both watch a movie in the living room.

And the next morning, Aemond Targaryen with his new haircut is all you hear about even among all the girls in your apartment. Even something as simple as a haircut drives them all crazy. Even you.

But that it's already a real topic of conversation is amazing.

And the next few days are really stressful for you, also for Aemond, as you have to push your respective careers forward with homework and projects.

In fact the week is so busy that you barely have time for breakfast in the morning as you have to rush to the university. Aemond also told you that he was very busy with the same thing.

But it's worth it.

You tell yourself even in every break that you actually make use of to continue doing more homework.

And for you there is no better motivation than knowing that by the time the week is over, you will finally be free and the ball will be a great way to finally relax and have fun with your best friend.

And you honestly can't wait.

However, you were not prepared to hear what Aemond says to you the day before the ball when you arrive at the apartment and he is already there, apparently waiting for your arrival.

And you knew it wouldn't be good what he would say to you the moment you see the sadness, worry and sorrow in his eyes as he watches you.

"My family wants to meet Alys."

He tells you and then says nothing for a few more seconds, looking away from you, running a hand through his hair, frustrated, to which you already know what he will probably tell you.

"And I couldn't think of any better occasion than to take her with me to the ball so everyone can meet her."

And her words stab like a dagger into your heart, shattering it into little pieces.

And he speaks to you so softly, so carefully and so sorrowfully at the same time while you want to believe it's a damn joke and he's really not doing this to you.

"I'm so sorry, my pretty one," he looks at you with all the anguish in his eyes for your reaction, worried, "Could you do me this favor, just this once, please?"

Do him the favor?

You repeat in your mind, just watching him without really having any expression in your look, because you don't want to make him see that he has broken you with this news and this suddenly change of plans.

And his next words only make you feel worse for your lack of response, with him wanting to make the situation better, as if it were possible.

"You could still come, you know. I'll be with Alys, but Helaena or Aegon can keep you company and eventually I'll try to be around you as well."

"I'm not taking Alys."

He had said.

"This ball belongs to both of us, it always has. And I'm not going to break the tradition."

He had promised you.

And you say to yourself: he is asking you this as a favor. It's just a ball and it's only fair that his escort should be his girlfriend. Don't bother, you shouldn't bother.

"I know you had everything ready and I know I shouldn't be telling you this a day early."

He continues saying to you with sorrow, and then he goes to you in a desperate action and takes your hands in his.

"But I promise you that I will make it up to you, I will—

Unable to stand it any longer, you take your hands from his, which makes him stop and look at you instantly, a little surprised and worried by your reaction.

And you again... you act unconcerned and like it's no big deal.

Mostly because you no longer want to keep listening to his promises that are worthless in the end, you also don't want to be around him right now and also because you want to end the matter once and for all.

"Okay, I understand."

You tell him with the best look you can put at that moment, really trying to pretend that everything is fine, almost convincing him, almost.

"Don't worry."

And without waiting for anything else, because you really want to get away from him, feeling that if he tells you something else you're really going to burst into tears right then and there, you walk past him and head to your room.

But he doesn't let you go so easily.

"Y/N..." He holds you by the shoulders, looking at you worriedly, "Talk to me, please."

You let out a small laugh, the fakest laugh you've ever let out, trying with all your might to make it okay.

"What do you want me to say? I told you it's okay."

Again you try to pass by him but he again stops you. And you let him.

You let him because you don't want him to see you bad, broken. You let him because if you get upset, if you let him see that he has broken you, you fear he will realize your true feelings.

And you don't want that now that he has a girlfriend and looks happy with her. So happy that she even managed to change his mind about taking her to the ball even though he told you he wouldn't because that ball belonged to the two of you.

And you don't want to ruin that for him if that's what he wants, you also don't want to make a big deal about the change of plans. You want to make him see that you're okay with it.

Again...you don't want to look sad and broken in front of him.

"I know you, Y/N," he says to you in a sad, apologetic soft voice, "I know you're not okay with me wanting to take her now because I told you I wouldn't, that this ball belongs to both of us," he lets out a long breath, "But I—

"I'm perfectly fine with it, Aemond," you interrupt him with the most nonchalant and fake look possible, "I mean... she's your girlfriend and it's only fair that you take her, right?"

And your words don't know why they make her feel worse when that's just what she needed from you: understanding.

But somehow it feels a hell of a lot worse that you're understanding him after he knows he promised you he wouldn't take her and you'd both go together.

"But you—

"Look... actually this is good," you lie, "Now I have a lot of homework to finish and also a big project due on monday. The weekend will help me to get everything done and delivered on time."

That's what you assure him even though this whole week you had worn yourself out getting everything ahead of schedule for next week so you could go to the ball and have fun without any more worries.

"Are you..." He looks at you suspiciously, "Are you sure?"

"Very," you say, putting on a small fake smile, "Now I just want to rest before I do everything."

He watches you for a few seconds with the softest and gentlest expression possible, still a little worried, while you watch him firmly back to show him that it's okay.

Even though it hurts like hell all this is happening.

"Well," he murmurs, looking away from you, nodding slightly, "Would you like me to make some dinner for the two of us? I can...

"No thanks," you cut him off, "I want to sleep, that's all."

And finally, carrying all your dignity with you, you head to your room, pretending that everything is fine and that you are fine.

But as you close the door to your room behind you, that's when all the appearance finally goes away and you allow yourself to really feel the way you feel.

And it makes it worse to see the beautiful dress on your bed, looking so spectacular, so ready to be worn, when you will no longer need it for the main occasion you decided to buy it and wanted to wear it for so badly.

Looking at it with longing and sadness, the first tears fall down your cheeks and you avoid letting out a sob as you bite your lips.

You would have preferred that Aemond told you about taking his girlfriend that day when you went to get the dress and then he came home with his new haircut. It would have been more preferable to telling you the day before the ball.

Either way, though, you know it would have destroyed you, just the same way you feel destroyed now.

That's why the next morning, you don't even leave your room. You don't want to and can't see Aemond knowing that today is the day it was supposed to be the two of you.

So you only leave your room when you make sure Aemond is in his room to grab something from the fridge and get back to your cave as quickly as possible.

Until the time of the ball gets closer and closer and you make sure your desk is full of sheets of your previous projects, pretending to be busy as you had told Aemond you would be.

Even his sister, Helaena, sends you an excited message asking if you will come tonight and with all the pain in your heart, you reply that you will not be able to come as you are too busy with homework and projects.

When Aemond knocks on your bedroom door and calls you from the other side. You quickly go to your desk, pretend to be busy with the sheets, tell him to come in and he does.

"I'm leaving now, pretty one."

"Okay, have fun," you say in the best possible tone, without looking at him.

You really don't want to look at him.

"I will probably come here to sleep, I don't think I'll stay anywhere else, just to let you know," he says in a soft and cautious tone, still a little worried about yesterday.

"Yeah, that's fine."

A few seconds of silence and then you hear him let out a sigh.

"Are you sure you don't want to come? You know Helaena and my brothers will be there. I can wait for you to leave."

You bite the inside of your cheek, annoyed that he's suggesting this again, when you shouldn't be.

You know he means well, but it bothers you, it hurts you. How does he think you'll want to go to the ball after changing your plans?

"I have a lot to do," you answer briefly.

And again you hear another one of his sighs.

"Okay," he murmurs.

But he doesn't leave immediately, you hear how he is still at your door and you feel his penetrating gaze, as if he is asking you for forgiveness, but you don't even look at him.

You can't and you don't want to.

You think that if he tries to talk about it again, you'll tell him how busy you are so he won't do it.

But fortunately you only hear him let out a long breath and finally close the door to your room. And the next thing you hear are his footsteps and then the apartment door opening and closing.

The next few days after what happened between you and Aemond at the ball are again like you didn't want them to be.

But it seems that the ball was an important point that broke between you and Aemond and again he and you don't spend time together anymore. It's only in the mornings when you both see each other for breakfast, but there isn't even a conversation for the time being.

There are no more movie weekends, no more going to a restaurant for breakfast on some weekends, and no more going to the grocery store together.

However, the agreement remains that he takes care of everything financially and you take care of the food, laundry and cleaning.

Still, it's as if you live alone.

Suddenly Aemond stopped coming to the apartment less and less, as well as he has stopped sleeping here constantly anymore.

Sometimes there are not even any more of his clothes to wash, mostly because they are still clean or because he takes them away or has left them somewhere else, with Alys obviously.

All the food is finished by you since he barely eats breakfast or dinner here. And the few times you've gotten to talk, there's been no mention of the ball at all.

And you can tell, as he also shows, that he seems to be very busy with his classes and also with his girlfriend.

He still pay for the electricity, water and everything you need, you know he does, but he's not even here. Now it's like you totally take care of Vhagar, which you don't complain about, but she's supposed to be his dog because you gave her to him.

And even though things are tense between you, you still can't help but feel sad and lonely every time you realize that he didn't even get to sleep and on weekends you're all alone.

Whenever you text him asking where he is or why he didn't get to sleep, he always replies the same thing: Alys. He apologizes for not telling you but still never tells you.

Now you sleep in the apartment all alone, with only Vhagar's company every day. And even though it hurt you a lot about the ball, you still miss your best friend very much.

You missed him the most especially when a nasty storm hit King's Landing at night and lasted all morning until six o'clock.

You hate storms and Aemond also knows that you are afraid of them.

That night you couldn't sleep at all, you were curled up hiding under your sheets, hugging Vhagar as your only comfort, hoping that everything would pass soon.

The next morning you couldn't go to class due to lack of sleep and Aemond didn't even show up at the apartment.

Until one night, saturday at one o'clock in the morning, you heard the sound of the door and his footsteps in the living room and kitchen.

And ready to talk to him about how you've been feeling these past few days, as well as the fact that you practically live here alone, you head out of your room.

But you stop just as you open a crack in your door when you hear and realize that he is not alone.

"We should have arrived at my house, Aemond."

"We talked about this, Alys."

"But she's always here. I don't understand why she never goes out with friends or anything."

"I told you she's not that type."

You could have closed the door and gone to sleep with the idea of talking about what you had in mind with him another day, but you stay still when you hear that they are talking about you.

And what Alys says next only makes you stand stiller and listen more attentively.

"Oh my love... Are you still worried about her?"

You sharpen your ear more, attentive and confused.

Worried about me?

You repeat in your mind not understanding, willing to listen more, even though you shouldn't but still you do.

"I'm not worried. I'm just thinking about her."

"You are worried, Aemond," Alys repeats in affirmation and in a serious tone, "What I don't understand is why if the ball was two weeks ago."

"I know," you hear him mutter, "But still, you should have seen her face... she already had everything ready and I told her a day before that I wouldn't take her with me."

"But she told you it was okay, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but..." sigh, "In a way it felt much worse that she understood."

Alys lets out a snort.

"Of course she must have understood, my love," she says obviously, "I'm your girlfriend, not her."

You press your lips together, thinking that it didn't even cross your mind that he was still thinking about the ball when he doesn't even see you and isn't even here.

You don't fully understand but you do have an idea that after the ball, maybe he needed to distance himself from you and that's why you haven't seen each other anymore and he doesn't come to the apartment.

Maybe he felt really bad about himself for killing your illusion of going to the ball together, like every year.

But if he feels so bad, then why did he do it?

You ask yourself with some bitterness.

Apparently Alys was more convincing to him and it's okay, she's his girlfriend, but he's just feeling bad after it's all over.

"You care a lot about her and it's ridiculous, Aemond. As ridiculous as it is that she lives here and doesn't give you a single penny."

And then again her words catch your attention more than ever and you continue listening attentively, with your face falling because of her words.

"Alys..." he calls out to her in a tired tone, "I already explained that to you."

"But even so," she insists with an absurd tone, "Won't she be ashamed? She's your best friend and she doesn't even think about helping you a little?"

"She does help me and you know it."

"I mean financially."

"Her parents send her what money they can for college. She buys food and also buys what she needs for her classes and other necessities."

"Oh, so not only she doesn't help you with money, but also her parents?"

"Alys–

"Hasn't she even thought about getting a job?"

"Yes, but I told her that it wasn't necessary, that she could help me with the domestic and I could help her with the money without charging her anything."

"Are you serious?"

"She's my best friend, Alys. I'm the one who convinced her to live with me because I wanted her to."

"No, Aemond. It wasn't because you wanted to. It was because you pity her."

Your heart skips a beat and you open your lips and listen in surprise, beginning to feel that sharp pain in your chest as it hurts to hear those words.

"No," he says firmly, "It's never been like that."

"Oh please, don't fool yourself," she insists, "Y/N is not like you and me...her family has no money and from what you've told me, she's always been on scholarship in everything."

"Not everyone can have what we have, Alys," he says incredulously, "Besides, why would I care if she has money or not? Other people like us are really distasteful and don't have even a shred of humility, sincerity and trustworthiness like she has."

"I don't see it that way. I think she's so different and you feel so sorry for her that you've made it easy for her by putting her in an apartment like this because you know she and her family don't have the resources."

"That's what you think. But she and I both know that's not true."

He says with a confident tone and yes, it is true.

Alys at this moment made you doubt, a lot, because of the venom he was spitting out every word and for speaking so confidently about how he really feels about you.

But you never felt that Aemond treated you, since their friendship began, with pity.

Never.

"She has always been there for me and never with the intention of taking advantage of me for what I have. Not for nothing is she my best friend and you know how selective I am with my friends."

You hear the long sigh she lets out, to which you must think she has an irritated face.

"Well, if you say so," she says bitterly, "Still, isn't it annoying that she's always here? She doesn't go out to parties, she has no friends but you, and whenever we come here we can't even have the privacy we'd like because she's locked in her room."

"This is her house too."

"She's not a child anymore, Aemond. You should tell her to get a job and an apartment of her own or live in the dorm now. Tell her you want your own space now."

"It's not even a year since we've been living together, Alys."

"So, if I tell you in one more year that we want us to live together, will she live with both of us too?

"Of course not."

He answers instantly in an absurd low tone and again you feel your heart break at his words because of how quickly he answered and in what tone.

And you can't blame him, those are plans with his girlfriend, you have nothing to do there. But you can't help it and it really hurts because you will never be her.

"Look... I admit that I do wish I could have more privacy and also that she would go out to have fun and meet new people... I even want to get here with you and she's not here."

You feel the tears start to form in your eyes, but you bite your lips and control yourself.

"But I can't just tell her that I want to live alone now and give her to understand that I want her to leave. And I really don't want her to leave, not like this," he say honestly, "Not when things are still tense between us," he sighs, "She's my best friend and I love her. I don't want to hurt her anymore. I really want to make things right with her."

And as if everything Aemond had just said wasn't relevant to Alys, she says the following with every intention of it actually happening someday soon.

"What if the two of us go live together somewhere else?"

And the few seconds of silence afterwards on Aemond's part you know is from his confusion.

"Hm?"

"If you don't want to hurt her, fine, let her keep living here so you can feel good about yourself by continuing to help her."

You frown, really hating and feeling annoyed with his girlfriend's words.

"Then we can look for another apartment to live together," she proposes and you feel your heart shrink, "It doesn't have to be now, but later, but really do it, what do you think?"

You don't hear anything again for a few seconds, wanting to hear Aemond's answer while your heart beats hard against your chest.

"Alys–

"Please, baby. I want to live with you. I want to do many things with you."

And in that moment you know it's enough as you hear them start kissing and you finally, carefully, close the door and lie back down on your bed, holding back the tears.

Not wanting to hear anything promising out there, you put on your headphones and try to sleep with this ugly pain in your chest.

You shouldn't have listened to that conversation between the two of them, but you couldn't help it. But after listening to them, staring for a few moments at the ceiling of your room, broken, you make the decision you had thought about before but were not sure about.

And that is that you will fulfill Alys' wish... you are going to look for a job and you are going to ask for a doorm in the residence.

The following days after hearing Aemond's conversation with his girlfriend, continue the same.

Aemond still doesn't show up much at the apartment, the two of you don't talk much, he is always with Alys and you start looking for jobs near the university without success.

When you don't find anything, the days of searching get longer because the ones that are available are far away from your area and others don't apply for you because they ask for experience.

And at the same time you try not to let everything you heard that night affect you by keeping busy with college.

You also try not to let it affect you that Aemond said he wanted to make things right between you but he still doesn't see you and doesn't show up because he's with Alys.

You really don't understand.

That's why you continue to look for a job as it hurts you that you are practically living alone in a big apartment like this when before it wasn't like this and you enjoyed Aemond's company.

Now it's just you and Vhagar.

Then one afternoon when you come home from school and finish feeding Vhagar and start preparing food for yourself, suddenly the door opens and Aemond enters with a soft look, instantly observing you.

"Hello, pretty one."

You try not to look surprised and confused by his arrival, so you just don't let his nickname affect you and smile a little, just a little, in his direction.

"Hi."

He smiles a little more at you as his gaze turns to Vhagar who runs excitedly to greet him.

"Hello to you too my little one," he says tenderly and you see how he takes her in his arms, "I missed you."

You look away from him to continue cooking, not wanting to talk and preferring to ignore him in the same way he seems to ignore you by not showing up or sleeping here anymore, leaving you and Vhagar alone.

You want to know why he has suddenly appeared, but you control yourself from asking. Just as you tell yourself that you don't plan to say anything to him about moving into the dorm until you secure a job.

"What are you cooking?"

You hear him ask you as he approaches you.

"Fillet," you reply briefly.

"Do you mind if I ask you to cook one for me?" He asks with some care.

"No," you answer simply.

You really don't want to be rude to him, after all, this is your agreement, so you cook a fillet for him, waiting to serve everything.

"Do you have something to do today?"

He asks you suddenly and you continue cooking, without looking at him.

"Homework," you answer, "Why?"

"Ah... some classmates are coming to prepare an presentation we have tomorrow," he lets you know and you finally turn to look at him, "I hope you don't mind."

"No, it's fine," you assure him, turning your back on him again, "I'll be in my room, you know."

"Of course."

Quiet.

You continue cooking and he seems to be waiting for his food, so you don't say anything, mostly because you don't have anything to say.

You feel his gaze on you at almost all times, which you deliberately ignore, trying not to make a big deal of it.

When you start serving and finally turn your face to him to place the plates and also the glasses, feeling more firmly his gaze on you.

"Y/N...

And as soon as he says your name you knew he wasn't watching you silently for nothing, but because he was fighting himself to talk to you about something that had him in doubt.

"I know I haven't been around much..." he starts to say and you avoid letting out a sigh of irritation, "And I also know that I've left you alone with Vhagar—

"Yes, I know," you interrupt him in a nonchalant tone, "And that's okay, you have things to do and honestly so do I, believe it or not," you say quickly and then open the refrigerator, "Do you want soda or juice?"

Your clear disinterest for not wanting to talk about it makes Aemond stop talking and watch you in silence, feeling a little guilty for your attitude.

But you continue to watch him expectantly for an answer and he gives it to you after a few seconds of silence.

"Soda."

You nod and start filling the glasses. And at that, Aemond doesn't insist on the matter and simply remains silent, waiting for you to start eating together.

But he can't be like this anymore. He really wants to make things right and that's why he mentions the next:

"Don't think I forgot your birthday."

He says in an attempt to finally calm the tension between the two of you as you turn and hand him the glass and then take a seat in front of him.

"You don't?" you say almost sarcastically, almost.

"Of course not," she assures you, "It's this Friday. Aren't you excited?"

"Not really," you say honestly, "I have a project due that friday that has been causing me a lot of stress. I don't want to get a grade that isn't worth all the effort."

"Oh come on, you always get the best grades," he says with a small smile, "Don't worry, you'll see, everything will be fine."

And the next thing he does is to place his hand on top of yours to give it a gentle squeeze as he always used to do before in situations like these, just like you do with him.

At this, you try not to fall for him and his gestures, so you just nod thanking him with your eyes for his support and start eating, just like him.

"And what are your plans? Tell me," he asks you interested.

"Mmm..." You grimace, "In the morning I don't have much planned, just to talk to my parents," you confess, "After class my friends said they wanted to take me to a restaurant and at night to go out partying but... I'm still not sure about that."

"About what?"

"The party."

He takes a sip of his soda and looks at you confidently.

"Let's go."

"Where to?"

"The party."

"You want to go?" you frown.

"Of course I do," he says with a smile, "I want to celebrate and have fun with you on your birthday."

You raise your eyebrows expectantly at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, come on, I'll take you," he says more confidently than before, "In fact, since you won't be doing much in the morning, I could buy a cake for both of us, give you your present and I don't know, go out or watch a movie," he proposes, "Just me and you. Then I'll see you in the night and we'll go out and party."

So, for all that confidence in talking, even with that determination and that excitement in talking about making plans together on your birthday... you shouldn't but again you feel that hope come back to you.

That same spark and hope when he told you about the ball and in the end he did the complete opposite of what he promised you.

But this time... they are both talking about your birthday. You know and you know that he knows you're not just talking about anything.

That's why you stop feeling that little bitterness and forget about the conversation you overheard, you also stop considering going to live in the dorm because he just gives you hope.

"What do you say? Do you like the plan?" he observes you with a little excited smile.

And without being able to help it, you also smile softly in his direction, feeling how that emptiness in your chest fills up, leaving you feeling alone and ignored.

So you nod your head, avoiding showing too much of your happiness and illusion.

"Perfect."

And after you both finish eating, before his classmates arrive, you both make yourselves comfortable on the couches and talk about almost everything while Vhagar keeps you company.

And because of this, you feel more of that hope, that companionship that you had needed so much from him and finally everything is okay.

Everything feels okay.

All the following days, both Aemond and you go back to the old routine where you don't see each other as much and don't talk much.

But at least there is that feeling that between you everything is already fine and there are plans in place for the weekend that you couldn't be more excited and anxious about.

You've already planned everything with your friends as well, so it's sure to be a perfect day.

Until finally friday arrives and you expect to wake up to Aemond making a big fuss with that happy birthday children's song.

However, it doesn't.

You wake up to a chill in your room and also in the whole apartment when you realize that Aemond is not here. You check to see if he has left you a note or a text but nothing.

Instantly you think to yourself that he must be getting that cake he promised you, so you take a shower and get ready for the day.

Then you get congratulations from your friends and other family members. You even talk to your parents who are in your little town, Stone Hedge, in the Riverlands, working hard to support your studies.

And then when you finish getting ready, Aemond still doesn't show up, so you call him but he doesn't answer, you also send him messages but nothing.

[You]: I'll be waiting for you until 12PM. I have my class at 1PM.

And you send the message, wishing and hoping he'll be here soon.

Until the hours go by, he still doesn't answer, doesn't even return your calls, doesn't tell you anything and there definitely comes a time when you can't wait for him anymore.

And you control yourself. You don't want to think anything bad. You tell yourself that maybe something important came up at school.

So you stay positive, tell yourself that he will explain when you see him tonight, and leave the apartment to go to the university.

The moment you walk into your classroom, your friends greet you with big hugs, flowers and helium balloons wishing you happy birthday, which definitely lifts your mood.

And even more so when you turn in the most stressful project you've done so far in your entire career and with all the happiness and excitement in the world you see how you get graded with an A+.

And your friends are quick to say that it's all the more reason to celebrate tonight.

When the class is over, along with Aileen, Sara, Ryan and Ryan's friend James, you head to the restaurant they told you they wanted to take you to.

There they all order a bottle of wine and toast to your birthday and also to their good grades in this final project they handed in. Even the restaurant's employees bring you a small cake and together they sing happy birthday to you, feeling very nice.

Although unconsciously, you keep thinking about Aemond.

From time to time you check your phone to see if there are any answers from him yet, but nothing. So you really try not to think about him too much and fortunately, with the help of your friends, you succeed.

Until it starts to get dark and everyone says they should get ready to go to one of the many fraternity parties.

Ryan takes you with James to your house and expecting to see Aemond at the apartment, you arrive and no one is there except Vhagar.

You let out a long breath and call him one more time but nothing, so not to be late you get ready for the party.

You're hopeful that Aemond will eventually arrive, but even when you finish getting ready, nothing. And you know he won't show up or he would have already.

But there is still a little hope.

You think, confident and positive, because it is your birthday.

You ask Sara to pick you up and soon you are both arriving at the party where you meet your other friends who have also brought friends.

"What about your best friend, is he coming?"

Aileen asks you over the music and you, still wanting to feel confident, nod.

"Yeah, he might be a little late."

She nods and takes you to the kitchen to play with the other party games before everything here becomes a mess with so many people and louder music.

And you get distracted for a moment as you start to play and have some fun with the games.

You realize that you're actually having a great time despite Aemond's absence, but you still want to see him since it's your birthday.

That's why after a few hours have passed, the party is getting more crowded and everyone is starting to drink more, you check your phone and there's still nothing from him.

You turn away from everyone for a moment to call him but he doesn't answer. You look at the time and realize that it will be eleven o'clock at night and feeling a little worried now, you send him more messages.

[You]: where are you?

[You]: i have been trying to talk to you all day.

[You]: will you at least come to the party?

Nothing.

You let out a long, disappointed breath, yet you tell yourself that he couldn't have forgotten about your birthday, he just didn't.

He made the plans, he promised you a fun day, he said you two would be together.

But then... where is he?

As you walk back to the house, across the entire backyard, you finally feel your phone vibrate several times and you stop to turn the screen back on again, hopeful.

However... you wish you had not.

[aem❣]: sorry for not responding, I was busy all day with alys and we just finished having dinner with her parents.

[aem❣]: party?

And that's all he tells you.

So surprised and incredulous, somehow already expecting it since he didn't show up in the morning you think it can't be.

You can't really believe it and you wish you were so wrong but... it's the truth.

He forgot your birthday.

Your best friend really has forgotten your fucking birthday.

He doesn't tell you anymore, he doesn't say happy birthday, he doesn't apologize for his absence on your birthday, he just doesn't tell you anything.

He just asks you that, with that question being reason enough to give you to understand that he has forgotten the whole plan and your birthday.

And you don't cry.

You really don't want to cry. He doesn't deserve it.

So you avoid breaking down at that moment and just put your phone on silent to put it in your little bag, holding back the tears and enduring this huge sharp pain in your chest.

When that's when you decide you've had enough.

It's still eleven o'clock, you have one more hour to enjoy your birthday, then you'll have fun for the rest of the party and tomorrow you'll have time to feel bad about what your so-called best friend has done to you.

But this is not going to ruin what's left of your birthday.

So you suppress everything, mentally prepare yourself and go back to the party more confident and determined than ever to have fun with your friends who are here.

And that's what you do.

But after this, enough will definitely be enough.

taglist:

@hey-lucille @queenofshinigamis @winxschester @xcinnamonmalfoyx @ladymarg0t @yazzzmints @namoreno @wintrr13 @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd aemond #modern aemond targaryen #modern aemond

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endless-ineffabilities · 5 months

Text

dragonfire

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

masterlist ▪︎ word count: <1k

The one in which Aemond Targaryen ponders over an existence without you. (i.e. a little something caused by my recently resurgent Aemond brainrot)

"So, what are you planning to do?"

Daeron's question hangs in the air. For a moment, Aemond fails to grasp the subject of his inquiry. But his mind, as it always does, goes back to you.

Having returned from visiting you in the library, Daeron found him smiling to himself in the godswood, like some pathetic, lovestruck youth.

"I am not sure what you mean." Aemond turns, regarding his younger brother with a lingering look.

"Will you ever confess to her how you feel?"

Has he become that easy to read? How he feels. Has he even admitted that truth to himself? He casts his gaze downward, kicking over a pebble with the sole of his boot. "It has not crossed my mind," he says. A lie, plain as day.

Daeron tries another approach, knowing how difficult it is to elicit the best reaction from his stoic brother. "Well, look about the matter in this way - what would your life be like without her in it? What if you never knew her at all?"

Aemond scowls in distaste. He is not too inclined to be analysed in such a way. But his thoughts have been influenced by Daeron's questioning. What would everything be like without you?

He would still be Prince Aemond Targaryen. He would still possess his royal devotion and sense of duty.

But without you?

"It would not be right," Aemond confesses. "It would be a plain cruelty to myself were I to entertain the thought. I suppose I would go on, as I am, but I have no desire to."

Days without your companionship, and nights without the thought of you intertwined with him in his chambers? How dull it would all be.

"She's like... like my dragonfire. My strength. Only she can ever have any true power over me."

Only you would be permitted to. The influence of his family, and of his status - they stand no chance. If you asked him to renounce his titles, and to sail together on a ship to Yi Ti, Aemond knows he would do so. For you.

And it terrifies him. He was raised to be methodical. To not be rash in his decisions. He has always upheld his family and his personal ambition above all else. But what terrifies him even more is the possibility that you would not be so receptive of his affections. And that, one day, duty would demand him be wed to another Lady who isn't you.

So he is resolute is not letting that happen.

"I would be the most content man in all of the Seven Kingdoms if I could live out my days with her as my Lady wife." The sentiment flows out of him as naturally as taking a breath. "If she will have me," he adds, softly.

Daeron smiles in agreement, before offering the simplest course of action. "So take her to be your wife. There is no doubt in my mind that she will have you."

"It is not that easy."

"What if some other Lord will ask for her hand - "

"Then I will take pleasure in feeding Vhagar her next meal."

Daeron simply laughs, patting Aemond on the shoulder. "Take heart, brother. No Lord can surpass you."

"Hmm." Of course not.

"I shall take my leave," Daeron says. "Oh, and if you change your mind about her, I would not be averse to asking for her hand, myself."

Aemond stiffens, glowering at Daeron with a storm brewing in his eye. For a split second, he considers having to duel his brother, if it would come to that. Felling him, if need be. For you.

His own kin. He has done it before, after all. And this time, it would be for the greatest of causes - the battle for your heart.

"Gods," Daeron bursts in a fit of laughter. "Aemond, I only jest. We do not need any more infighting in our family than we already have."

Aemond exhales in relief as his brother departs, leaving him with the realization that he would actually resort to such extreme measures in order to be with you.

Seven hells, he is well and truly fucked.

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen one shot #house of the dragon

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malisorn · 12 days

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⚖ || 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞

Pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary | After his wife's suspicious behavior, Aemond finds out of her doings & decided to see it for himself ๋࣭ ⭑

Warnings & Suggestions | Book!Aemond, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence (Not on reader), Torture (Not on reader), Threats

“A good match, is it not? my darling girl” Your father asks as you two walk through the sept together. Pure bliss in his eyes as he observes the place of your upcoming wedding. “You will be wed here, and trust me my darling, the wedding will be as grand as his brother's.”

You were only eight and ten when your father and the Queen wedded you to her son, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

“Father…” Would it be wrong to doubt his decision? “What if I don't wish to marry him?” His silence already answers everything that you need to know. “What are you speaking of? you foolish little girl. He is a dragonrider, the King's second son, do you know how valuable that is?”

“He doesn't seem content at our betrothal ” Desperation creeps out of your voice with tears threaten out of your eyes. Your father’s hands land on both of your shoulders, one loud sigh as you feel his tighten squeeze. “Daughter, I’ve raised you a dutiful girl, I have done everything for you and now it is your turn.” You stood still in hopelessness, stunned by the heavy burden he has putted on your shoulder. Your father promptly kissed your forehead and left, the sound of his cussing fade within the tunnel.

And since then, you have done as he said. You wedded Prince Aemond with a smile plastered on your face, you endured the painful ache from your wedding night, and everytime your father came to visit you in King's Landing, claiming that he has missed his favorite child, but you can see it right through him, he just wanted to use you as his other pawn. And for the longest time, you knew he has been a frequent visitor to street of silver, where gamblers will gather together.

“I am changing myself, my sweet daughter, this time, i promise to cherish the chance you give upon me" You look at the man in front of you, holding your face in his palms but you couldn't recognize him for a single bit. Is this truly the same man that used to tell you a tale after a nightmare, the very same man that brings you sweets and treats just to see you smile? You hope there are still some pieces of that man inside him. But now, all you see is a man with ruined honor, nothing like a father.

“I do not think the prince will-”

“What are you speaking of, daughter!? He is your husband!” His shout already tired you out. “Don't you wish to see your father content?” He continued. As you sit down to rest, your father kneels beside. “Please, please help me, my child.” Holding your hand, you look at him with sorrow, the way his eyes were red from the wine, with darkness forming under his eyes, you need to help him.

“The sept, tomorrow.” What a shame this is. The last time, you lied to Aemond that you wanted some gold for your new clothes. But since then, you still have the same wardrobe, luckily he hadn't said anything.

“Husband” You call him with cheerfulness after he returns from his practice. “I’ve prepared you a bath” You lead him to the tub, slowly unbutton his leather clothes. “I’ve missed you.” You kiss him on the cheeks as you take off his clothes. Taking all the leathers to the basket. You return to him, softly massage his shoulders. “How has your day been, husband?” Continue to press onto his tired muscles. “As its usual routine except the part where my wife is being attentive which only happens when she wants something from me.” His words hushed you and he turned to look at you. “What do you want?” You swallow your pride, “Golds.”

“Again?” You nod at him. “What happened to your winter collection, has it arrived yet? or have you even met with the tailor?” Hearing no answers from you, he quickly turns to look at you. And gods, you are crying. “Wife-” You stood on your feet and walked away from the tub. Aemond, fazed by your reaction, gets out of the tub and follows you as he folds the linen around his waist. The sight of you crying with your head in your hands. What has he done?

He sits next to you, clueless of what has happened. “I apologize, wife, I didn't mean to-” He swallows down his anger before speaking again. “I will bring it to you on the murrow, I didn't mean to accuse you of something, wife” You look at him, cheeks stained of tears, before you gently push him onto the bed. You hug Aemond as you cry, this is not the first time you have done this but you have never confess anything to him either.

The next morning, you wake up to two sackets of gold on the table. You count it and quickly prepare to go to meet your father, disguised as a lady going to the sept. How wrong this is, lying to your husband, to everyone.

As you arrive, you walk through the hall, trying to find your father. As you come across a lurking shadow, “Father”, his smile brightens as he notices the sackets you're holding. Grabbing it from your hand, you look at him with sadness. “Let this be the last time, go back to our castle, it isn't too late, father.” He brushes off your attempt to convince him. “Those people, thinking they are better than me-”

“Father, me and my husband can't help you anymore after this.” You held his hands tight but he quickly let go and ran away. You watch as he leaves again with tears running from your eyes. “Wife” The sound of your husband's voice made you startle as you turned to look at him. Has he been following you?

He indeed has been following you. After all, Aemond couldn't help but notice the way you have been acting strange. The amount of times you ask him golds for clothes, for jewelry, for books, for fragrance, but never once has he seen any of these things in your bedchamber. The swollen eyes you have from crying every once in a while, the whispers of your father, the sins he has committed.

Soon after you have fallen asleep, Aemond went to one of his most trusted companions, Ser Criston Cole. “The Queen has told me that your lady wife's father has been seen on the street of silver. He is a frequent visitor, after the death of his wife, he has drowned himself in cups, betting on his life. I believed that he is the man your wife has been giving those golds to”. Aemond hums at the story. “What should we do with him, my prince?” The question made Aemond wonder, he couldn't kill your father, you would never forgive him but if he lets him go, that man will return to suck out your blood like a leech. “I will think about it.”

As he watches you left in a carriage, Aemond and Criston follow you right after. The sight of you begging your father with tears in your eyes, lost and helpless. He knew that feeling before and he won't let it happen to you again.

“Aemond! I didn't know you would be here, you could've told me you will visit the sept, husband, we would've come here together.” The rush in your voice, trying to hide everything even now. “Why are you here, wife?” you are stunned at his question, trying to keep it together, “To pray, of course, it seems like a good day to pray to the father for justness, is it not?” Aemond laughs at your answer. “Brings him here, Ser Cole.”

You father, dragged by Ser Cole, but he cares not at the humiliation, he only holds tight onto the gold sackets. “Father” Your voice’s weak as you suffer into a sob. “Please, Aemond, let him go.”

“You pray to the father for justness, you say? This is justness, wife.” Ser Cole released your father and he fell to the ground. You kneel to help him, still crying. “Father” You try to hug him, to hold his face in your palms as a sense of comfort but all he did was avoid it. “Aemond, I apologize, please, let him go” You plead with him once more.

“It is not your fault, my wife, come here.” He orders you but you still kneel beside your father. “Come here or I will kill him.” With a single threat, you quickly went to his side. “Ser Cole.” At the mention, ser cole brings out a dagger close to your father's face.

“Aemond, Aemond, please, no, Ser Cole, please.” Aemond silenced you instantly, “These two sackets will be the last golds you get from me and my wife. You will never return back here or ever think of contacting my wife again.” Your father spits at Ser Cole for Aemond's threat. As the situation has worsened, Ser Cole brings the edge of the dagger close to your father's face. Blood slowly drops from his cheeks. You tighten your hold on Aemond's arms, begging him to stop.

Aemond left your side and came to confront your father, taking the dagger from his side, he pointed it at your father's left eye. “Swear it! swear to it or I will carve out your eye, like they did to mine.” With a dagger right at his left eye, your father instantly swears he will never be seen again. Leaving with two sackets of gold. He didn't bother to look back at you, not even a single glance.

“Come, wife” Aemond orders you and you follow him. Returning to Red Keep, you did not talk to him right after the incident. Feared and humiliated, you also miss your father, you wish to know if he is safe, if his cuts have healed yet. And while you are still reluctant with Aemond, both of you know that this is necessary and Aemond loves you as deep as the depth of the ocean that he will protect you from any cruelty of the world, even if it is your father.

masterlist for more

images' credits

The Card Sharp with the Ace of Diamonds by Georges de La Tour

The Moneylender and His Wife by Quentin Matsys

Judith by Leopold Pollak

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen angst

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meraxesmoon · 1 month

Text

Hostage

Aegon Targaryen/Aemma Velaryon (OC)

note: this was originally going to be a reader-insert, but ultimately, I decided to include my baby Aemma. did you see him in the new trailer??? my god tom has one hell of a face card

warnings: yandere content, dark content, reader is a bastard (criston's daughter), incest, forced marriage, attempted s/icide, smut, aegon is pussy whipped lmao, dubcon, I don't usually go into that territory so be warned, au where helaena was betrothed to jace (aka she's on Dragonstone), religious undertones, aemma doesn't want to be married period lmao, slight aemond/aemma, cunnilingus, there's foreplay, ik he has a fat d, I just know these things, tit-sucking, aemma is a plus-sized woman

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

Aegon stands next to Aemond as Alicent rushes around, trying to get things prepared for the ceremony. It would be quick and traditionally Valyrian due to Aegon's request. Despite Alicent's hurried motions, it was relatively quiet in the throne room, Aegon was restless, waiting for his wife to walk through those large doors.

Instead, they all hear the wails of Aemma Velaryon and the sound of a struggle in the corridor. Aemond and Aegon rush out into the hallway, watching with wide eyes as the usually docile girl becomes rabid in Ser Criston's arms. The ceremonial robes she wore were wet, sticking to her plump physique, and she was crying so loudly. Criston had one arm wrapped around her middle, his other hand behind her head so she wouldn't hurt herself against his armor.

"What's this all about?" Aegon questions, annoyed with the crying sounds coming from his sweet girl, he hated seeing her cry. Ser Criston wrangled the girl still, as she had grown exhausted from all of the fighting. "The princess tried to... fling herself from her bedroom window, Your Grace." Criston holds her gently, trying his best to make sure she wouldn't be hurt, and Alicent looks distressed as she watches the scene unfold.

The Dowager Queen holds a hand to her mouth, trying to hide the gasp that left her lips. Otto grimaced, looking at his grandson with disgust.

"Call a maester and have her calmed. The wedding will go on," Otto says, watching as the girl cried desperately in the arms of Ser Criston.

"I refuse! I will not marry a usurper!" Aemma cries out, flailing about as a maester tries to shove milk of the poppy down her throat. "My mother will come for me, and she will annul the marriage -" she can be seen getting drowsy, slumping in the hold of her unknown sire. Ser Criston, loosening his hold a bit, looks to Alicent and Aegon for guidance on what to do next.

"Let's get this over and done." Otto says, eying the young princess as Alicent guides her to the throne room.

Delirious and numb, Aemma Velaryon is married to her uncle, the man who had stolen her mother's throne. She groans as her servants ready her for bed, and she detests the thought of what came next. The handmaiden, Althea, has tears running down her dark cheeks as she dresses the princess in a soft pink night shift, her hands trembling as she does so.

Althea had been by Aemma's side since she was born, the handmaiden being the only one Rhaenyra truly trusted with her beloved daughter. Preparing her to lose her womanhood was painful for the woman, and she couldn't help but cry.

"Althea, please do not cry. It pains me..." the princess says, trying to seem strong, if only for her handmaidens' sake. "May the Gods burn them all down for what they're doing to you, My Lady." Althea seethes, her fingers trembling against Aemma's bare shoulders.

A knock comes at the door, and they both feel sick as Aemond walks through the door, looking rather displeased with the situation at hand.

They had been close as children, but she knew that asking Aemond for help would prove fruitless. Despite how they acted with each other, Aemond and Aegon were loyal. Aemond would never betray Aegon by helping her die or escape.

Aemond is silent and still, his hands behind his back.

"The King wishes for you to join him in his quarters, Good Sister." Aemond says blankly, trying not to look at his niece as she shivers in the cold room.

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

As Aemond led her to Aegon's personal chambers, she thought back to their childhood. She was about the same age as Aemond, so they played a lot together, read in the library, and talked about dragons constantly. They were friends, some would say. Now, he felt more like an executioner.

The door to Aegon's room is large and intimidating, despite the many times she's seen it. The feeling of Aemond's hand on her arm falls away, and he pushes her inside the room, closing the door as soon as she's inside fully. Aemma can feel her breath getting shorter as she stares at the large bed in the middle of the room and the several strange objects on the tables and shoved in drawers.

It looked as though someone had hurriedly tried to clean up.

"Wine? You look quite wound up, Ābrazȳrys," Aegon stands on the other side of the room, nursing a pitcher of wine in one hand and in another a goblet. She grimaces at that word. Wife didn't seem like the appropriate term for their arrangement. "Hostage, you mean. I am not your lawful wife, I am your prisoner, Usurper." Aemma says, wrapping her arms around her chest, trying to avoid her uncles gaze as he stares her down. Aegon pauses his movements, his expression clearly turning sour as he watches her getting closer to the door.

"We were married lawfully, and according to our own Valyrian traditions," he muses, walking closer to her as she pushes herself away from him, looking quite frightened. "All we have to do now is consummate our marriage, My Love."

"I did not wish to be king; you must know this. Fate has brought this union to us, who are we to argue?"

Aemma is disgusted, her back against the large wooden door as Aegon creeped closer, his free hand tracing the necklace she wore. A piece gifted to her by her late father, Ser Laenor Velaryon. A small seahorse made out of Valyrian steel, with soladite encrusted onto it. "Do you know who your true father is, Sweetling?" "Laenor Velaryon-" "No."

Aemma can feel tears brimming in her eyes once more as Aegon stares at her as though she were a piece of cake. Something he wanted to absolutely devour.

"He may be your father by law, but he did not sire you, nor did your mothers mistress, Ser Harwin Strong," he leans in to kiss at her collarbone, and she whimpers at the sensation, her trembling fingers fisting Aegon's night shirt, trying to push him away. "Your true father is Ser Cole; did you know that? It's amazing how loose he can get when drunk..." Aegon moans against her neck, rutting his hips against her, his arms wrapping around her middle as he embraced her.

"Mmm, I could ravage you right against my door, and your sweet Aemond would hear it all," Aegon presses his lips roughly against Aemma's, and she chokes out a cry as he forces a leg in between her thighs, sliding her shift upwards. His fingers play with the steel chain around her neck, delicate and sweet, much like herself. "He'd like that, you know. He likes you a lot, always has, but you belong to me now, my little wife..." "No! I cannot consummate this marriage; it would be treason against my own mother!"

She tries to make her case and tries to explain to Aegon why she couldn't be his wife, but he refuses to listen, only grabbing her by the back of the neck and forcing her into another kiss.

Aegon was ruining everything.

"I suppose, since this is your first time, that you'd prefer the bed," Aegon groans into her ear, fingers curling around her wrists as he starts to walk backward. When his body pulls away, Aemma gets a full-body view of her new husband and the tent in his night pants. She hadn't been prepared for such a sight, and she whimpered as he sat her down on the bed. Aegon hums playfully, his eyes dark as he takes her in.

Aemma would often wear soft blue gowns, as she said it was her favorite color. He remembers, before the incident at Driftmark, how innocent and cute she had looked, prancing around the Red Keep with Aemond and Helaena. He remembers being completely enraptured by her for as long as he's known her.

He remembers begging his father for a betrothal between the two of you.

Aegon tugs at the strings of his sleep shirt, shrugging it off on the floor, a hungry look in his eyes. Placing a hand on her shoulder, Aegon shoved Aemma hard enough for her to flop on her back, a small squeak leaving her as her body hits the thick blanket covering her uncle's bed. Her breath hitched as she felt him yank up her night dress, pulling the thin blue fabric just over her tummy. Panicking, she desperately tries to make herself decent, the thought of Aegon seeing her bare womanhood making her terrified.

Aegon smirks against her skin, trailing wet kisses down her abdomen as she squirms in his hold. Finger curling underneath her thighs, Aegon grips her tightly, a warning. "Mm, just relax," he says smoothly, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he glances at her bareness. Pressing a kiss to her cunt, Aegon moans, causing her to shriek and jump.

"Gods! You're such a maiden," Aegon laughs, lovingly stroking her thigh as he licked at her center. Smoothing his tongue along her cunt, Aegon groans at the taste. He felt bad, to a certain point, for corrupting such a sweet girl, but on the other hand, all of his fantasies were coming to life, and he was certainly enjoying himself.

The tip of Aegon's tongue seeks out her clit, and he flicks it gently at first, gauging her reaction. She fists at the blankets and pillows, shoving her face into the bedding as she tries to keep quiet and numb. She felt as though this was a betrayal to her sweet mother, and the thought brought tears to her eyes. Despite her fear, her womanhood is dripping from the stimulation given to her by Aegon, and the hot wetness is sticking to the inside of her thighs.

"You taste divine, Sweet Girl," Aegon moans, his tongue fucking her silly as she uncontrollably twitches under his touch. Her legs unconsciously wrapped around him, the fat part of her thighs encasing his head in a snug embrace. Her back arches delicately, her fingers digging into the blankets as her hips bucked voraciously, the pleasure clouding her mind.

She had not expected it to feel good at all! She had heard the horror stories of the wedding night for women, her septa would often rouse fear in the young girl, saying that it would hurt, but it was her duty to bare heirs for the crown. It didn't feel bad, though, and Aemma found herself reeling from the feeling of her most sensitive area being overstimulated. It does register in her mind that this is wrong. It goes against the faith and her vows to be loyal to her mother. However, she was stuck, and Aegon wouldn't let her go until she was fully tainted.

"Ngh, no - it feels... odd, Aegon!" She cries out into her pillow, grinding her cunt into Aegon's mouth. "This is so dirty!" Aemma whines, slowly feeling herself getting lost in the sensation of pleasure. She had never once heard of a man putting his mouth... down there, and yet here Aegon was, devouring her like she was his favorite wine.

Aegon's pointed nose rubbed against her clit, and she whimpers as she feels his tongue fucking her deeper. It felt as though he was trying to find something. A popping sound cuts through the air as Aegon pulls his mouth away from her pussy, his tongue playing along his lips as he hummed. Her slick was smeared over his chin, and Aegon licks it up before moving to suck on her clit once more, his fingers reaching into the depths of her cunt.

Aemma was unprepared for the intrusion, and as shocked as she was, she felt something gush out of her hole as her husband continued to thrust his fingers into her dripping hole. Twitching violently, she tries to pull away from the pleasure, crying out as overstimulation starts to set in, and she feels a wave of relief wash over her as Aegon pulls away from her. He looks quite satisfied with himself, popping one of his fingers into his awaiting mouth, sucking her slick off of the digit.

She recoiled in shame, looking away from him. She felt dirty, the residue of her own release making her thighs stick together, and Aemma wishes for nothing more than to take a comforting bath to wash away the sin that had been forced upon her. She thinks of her mother, of little Aegon and Viserys, and how stupid she was to stay in Kings Landing.

The Velaryon princess is snapped back into reality when weight is added to the bed, and a stark naked Aegon leans above her, his cock swollen and wet bobbing against her heat. Her discomfort is revitalized, and she tries to scramble away from him, hesitance apparent in her eyes.

Aegon chuckles, grabbing hold of her ankle and dragging her back down on the bed. His calloused fingers trace comforting circles into her skin as he gazes at her lovingly.

"This is all I've ever wanted; do you know that? It's all I've been able to think about since your mother dragged you to Dragonstone," Aegon muses, leaning down to kiss her cheek. His nose touches hers, and Aemma couldn't help but be comforted. If it weren't for the circumstances, she would have welcomed Aegon's affection. "Mhm, I've loved you for so long. Not being with you was almost physically painful."

Aegon wrestles her legs and wraps them around his waist, the tip of his weeping cock bouncing against her skin as he breathes heavily. "I'm not usually gentle, Sweetling," Aegon says, gripping his cock steadily as he guides it into her cunt. "But you aren't just some whore." He leans downwards, capturing her lips as he pushes the rest of his length inside.

"Fuck..." he draws out, his breath getting caught in his throat as he savors the feeling of her tight cunt squeezing him. He laughs, his hips stilling as he sheathes himself fully. She's wet, and Aegon moans out as she instinctively squeezes down on him. His nose rubs against her cheek as she gasps, trying to stop herself from making any noise. She grips the pillows and bedding, whining as she feels Aegon's thick and weeping cock nestle in her walls. "It's alright," Aegon muses, mouthing at her breasts as his fingers paw at her soft thighs. "You can give in to the pleasure, it's natural."

Aemma wants to disagree. She wanted to cry about how nothing about this was natural, and that this was treason against her mother, but the feeling of his tongue rolling over her nipple made her brain go fuzzy, and she couldn't help but let out a soft, nearly silent moan.

Aegon bucks his hips, his patience suddenly gone as he begins to fuck in earnest.

"Aemond is outside, peeping through the door, watching you being fucked by me," Aegon sobs out, still sucking and licking on her tits, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he revels in the feeling of his cock being squeezed into her wet cunt. "He desires to fuck you the same way, Dearest... Ahn, but I wouldn't allow such a thing." the mentioning of Aemond makes Aegon glance towards the door, his lips smirking against her skin. "He probably has his hand in his trousers as we speak, listening to you moan like that."

"S-Stop it... he wouldn't-" "Oh, but he would," Aegon moans, suddenly sitting up, and coming to rest on his knees. He grabs her thighs, forcing Aemma to wrap her legs around his hips. "You wouldn't believe how many times I've caught him fucking himself to the thought of you, your sweet Aemond isn't as virtuous as you think." Aegon grabs her hips, fucking into her as he throws his head back.

The fucking turns into grinding soon enough, and Aemma is moaning on her back as a finger comes to flick over her clit. Aegon's cheeks are pink as he starts to twitch, his hips bucking wildly into her cunt, and he tightens his grip on her hips. The feeling of the wet slide of his cock forces Aemma into another orgasm, her thick thighs tightening around his narrow waist.

The sweet whimpers. The wetness of her cunt. The knowledge of Aemond being right outside, listening in on them.

All of this ends up pushing Aegon over the edge.

In the end, Aemma is too exhausted to push Aegon away when he pulls her close, nuzzling his face against her bare bosom. She falls asleep quickly, not having the strength to keep herself awake. Aegon smirks against her plush skin, happily humming to himself.

He had sacrificed his freedom, but he had gained enough to make up for it.

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farity · 3 months

Text

Devil in the Details

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. God."

You turned at your friend Floris's whispered exclamation.

It took you but a second to figure out what she was so excited about.

Aemond Targaryen, the black sheep of the Targaryen dynasty, the reclusive billionaire who looked down at everyone vying for his attention, the man you'd been in lust with since you'd met him five years ago, had actually made an appearance at the glittering charity gala hosted by his mother.

"I need to get his skin care routine," Floris said, biting on her lower lip as she scrutinized Aemond from head to toe. "I'd love to climb that tree tonight."

Good luck with that, you thought to yourself.

You'd been in the same Uni class as his sister Helaena and met Aemond when you'd gone over to work on a joint project. He'd been quiet and almost shy, and you had been instantly smitten.

And had not been able to date anyone in the five years since because all you thought about was Aemond Targaryen.

Not that he gave you a second thought, as far as you knew.

"What the fuck is he wearing?" Floris continued, and, tired of pining after the man, you looked at her and snapped, "why don't you go find out?" before walking away to get your drink refilled.

* * * * *

"We are so very thankful for your family's contribution - the children will benefit greatly," Alicent smiled at you, leaning in to air-kiss you as you said your goodbyes.

You got your coat from the girl at the front, and were about to call for your car when you felt a hand grab your arm.

"Leaving already?"

Your heart began pounding as you recognized Aemond's voice, and taking a breath to steady yourself, you turned to face him.

By the Seven, he looked amazing. He'd shaved off his hair a few months ago when Aegon had done the same after having one too many drinks. Alicent had screamed at her oldest son and out of brotherly solidarity, Aemond had grabbed the electric shaver and started running it along his scalp right in front of his mother.

His eyes bore into yours, the prosthetic eye he had so perfect that you couldn't tell which eye was the real one. Every time you thought about it, you wanted to wallop his cousin, the little shit who had taken Aemond's eye during a childhood fight.

"I've seen enough people to last me a few months," you said, looking at what was, indeed, damn perfect skin, as Floris had mentioned. And was that eyeliner? Because his eyes had never been bluer than they were at that moment.

"Tell me about it," he said, still holding on to your arm, "I was going to grab a drink at the quiet bar next door, if you're game."

There was something vulnerable in his expression and you found yourself nodding and taking the arm he offered. "What in the world are these?" you asked.

He looked down at the latex gloves. "Mother's been berating me for not making an appearance at these things," he shrugged, "so here I am. Maybe she should have specified a dress code."

* * * * *

"You know, there's a name for what you're doing," you said, taking a sip of your drink.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Malicious compliance."

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah, that would be me." He looked back up at you, eyes sparkling, "if she'd wanted me to wear a tux, she should have said so."

"Would you have, though?" you prodded, "I have a feeling you would have figured some way to twist that dress code around. You were always the clever one."

"Not so clever if I never got you to go out with me."

You stared at him for a few seconds. "Aemond, you never asked."

"I'm asking now."

He placed a few bills on the table and placed his hand palm up on the table.

You narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh, and then placed your hands on his, and let him lead you out the door.

* * * * *

"How is Helaena liking Naath?"

"She loves it there. She has to get her shot every six months but she doesn't care, as long as she can keep studying the butterflies."

"And Aegon?"

"He stopped drinking after he shaved off his head, said it didn't suit his perfectly shaped skull."

You laughed, remembering Aegon's rather oversized ego, and then stole a glance at Aemond. "What about you? How have you been?"

He shrugged, "the company is doing well, family's good," he looked at you, "and I'm on a wonderful date."

You raised your eyebrows, "oh it's a date, is it?"

You could have sworn he blushed, but he lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back. "It very much is, but I do have a problem." He looked at you very seriously. "I need to lose these damn gloves."

* * * * *

It took about twenty minutes of careful tugging and maneuvering but finally, Aemond was free of the gloves and while you got two coffees to keep you going, he headed to the bathroom to wash his arms.

Back on the street, he grabbed your hand in his as he sipped at his coffee. "This is much better."

"So where on earth does one get this sort of getup to shock Alicent Hightower?"

He smiled. "My friend is a stylist and he hooked me up. His girlfriend is a makeup artist and she put all this stuff on my face and hair."

"You look amazing," you said sincerely, "your eyes look super blue."

"I could feel mom's blood pressure spiking as she noticed the eyeliner and highlighter," he laughed. "It was worth it."

"I bet she'll say extra prayers for you tonight."

Nodding, he took another sip of his coffee. "Not enough prayers in the world," he mused. You stopped to drink some of your own coffee and he pulled you closer. "And I really want to kiss you."

You looked up at him, your heart beating faster, and then he placed his coffee cup down, and took your face in his hands. He brushed his nose against yours, not rushing you, and then his lips touched yours. He kept the kiss light and gentle, his fingertips threading through your hair as you sighed against him.

He murmured your name as he wrapped an arm around you. You didn't want this to end, this magical night, and then he spoke again.

"Come home with me."

* * * * *

"You feel so damn good," Aemond whispered in the lift, his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

The car stopped and the doors opened, and you stepped into his loft, his hands roaming over your ass as you kicked off your shoes and let him pull you up against him.

"I want you so fucking much," you said against his mouth. He led you to his bedroom and you sat down on the edge of the bed as he pulled his shirt off over his head. "Come here, Aemond," you smiled.

He walked up to you, slowly, and you reached up to undo the fastenings on his leather trousers, keeping your eyes on him. Your hand lightly went over where he was already hard as a rock, and he hissed.

You drew down the zipper ever so slowly, biting down on your lower lip.

"I am going to make you pay for this," he gritted out.

"For what?" you asked innocently, starting to tug down the waistband. When you finally freed him, your eyes darting between his cock and his eyes, you licked your lips and took him in your mouth.

"Fuck."

"Hmmmm," you moaned around him, relaxing your throat so you could take him deeper. You could hear Aemond's breathing stuttering as you slowly pulled your lips all the way to the very tip of him and then took him back down your throat, hollowing out your cheeks.

"Fuck," he repeated, "I, uh, I can't-"

You felt him suddenly pull you off him and push you back on the bed.

"This is going to end too quickly if you keep doing that, angel."

"Angel?"

"Look at you," he said, indicating your white shimmery gown. "An angel about to be debauched."

You let one strap of the dress fall off your shoulder. "What does that make you, then?"

He lunged for you, hands on the bed on either side of you, and the smile on his face made you shiver.

"Me? I'm already destined for hell, love."

He took your lips, not slowly or gently this time, but desperately, his mouth all consuming on yours as he demanded entrance with his tongue and you willingly gave it. He was tugging down your dress as he kissed you, long fingers deftly maneuvering the yards of fabric until he had bared your breasts and then he pulled back, looking down at you.

You pushed the rest of the dress down until it fell on the floor, then laid back down and extended your arms to him. "Come here, Aemond," you said for the second time that night.

He shoved down the trousers, kicked them aside and spread your legs open before he kissed you again. He was so warm, his skin ablaze against yours, and you pulled him down to you, unable to get enough of him.

He began to kiss your neck, long fingers teasing your nipple, and then his mouth was on your breast and you moaned, the sharp sting of pleasure making you arch against him. He reached down lower, between your thighs, and you gasped.

"Tell me what you like," he murmured against your lips.

"Oh," you breathed as he settled on a steady rhythm, drawing tiny circles on the knot of nerves, "you're doing fine," you managed.

"Fine is not what I'm aiming for," he said, and slipped two fingers inside you and you cried out, your hips beginning to rock against him. "I want you to come for me," he added, curling his fingertips inside you.

"Aemond," you whispered, one hand on his shoulder, the other grabbing at his hair. "I- I'm-" you pressed your face to his neck a moment before the orgasm barreled through you, your cry muffled against his skin.

You felt him kneeing your legs apart and then he was pushing inside you. As ready as you were for him, he was big, and you bit down on your lower lip, still recovering and still wanting more.

"You can take me," he murmured soothingly as he kissed your temple. "Next time you come, I want to feel it around my cock," he said, and you whimpered as he rocked his hips to fill you completely.

He pulled back slowly, eyes on you, making sure you were okay, and then snapped his hips. You let your head fall back, and felt his teeth on your jaw, raking gently. "So good," he whispered, "I've wanted you for so long," he said as he settled on long, slow strokes. "So fucking long."

"Aemond," you closed your eyes, the feeling of him moving inside you beginning to send you back into that delicious spiral.

He reached between you, fingertips finding you and you moaned. "I can feel you," he said, "you-"

You cried out as you came, and felt him grab your hips to steady himself as he reached his own orgasm.

* * * * *

As reserved and aloof as you had always thought him to be, he hadn't stopped kissing and caressing you in the aftermath of your lovemaking. The man was full of surprises.

"Stay with me," he murmured against your cheek. "Tonight."

"How can I go when you've got me completely caged in," you teased, looking down at the arms he had wrapped around you and the way his legs were tangled with yours.

"Damn, I was trying to be stealthy," he smirked back. "We'll get breakfast, maybe I'll let you lure me back to bed again."

You rolled your eyes at him. "Rewriting history, are we? I remember trying to leave and someone grabbing my arm."

His eyes became serious on yours. "If I could rewrite history, I would have grabbed you a lot sooner." He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your lips. "But I mean to make up for it."

You smiled against him, and let him pull you closer, thinking you were only too happy to let him make it up to you for a long, long time.

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd smut #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x you

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undertheorangetree · 10 months

Text

Urgency

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Warnings: MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Possessive/jealous sex. Against a wall lmao. Vaginal fingering. Mild exhibitionism. Reader is purposely riling him up. He calls her a whore but in a fun way.

Author’s Note: You can find the full fic on AO3 the link is below plz feel free to let me know what you think :))

The queen had spared no expense on her son’s nameday, that much is clear the moment she walks into the hall. Perhaps Prince Aegon had been involved in his own party planning as well, as there are flagons upon flagons of wine, ale, cider, and even a few vials of absinthe lining the walls of the great hall alongside all the mountains of food. It is the first party that she has experienced since marrying Prince Aemond six moons passed and she doubts she will ever see anything so extravagant ever again. She does not think even her wedding compared to this, with all the finery and gold and jewels that seem to be everywhere her turns.

She too had done her best to dress up for the occasion. She had been gifted a beautiful Lysene gown two moons ago, a pretty blue thing made of silk and chiffon, full of layers and very low cut. It showed off far more of her breast than she is used to and is too thin to wear a shift beneath. She had been unsure about it at first but now that she stood amongst all the lords and ladies of the court, she feels as though she fits right in. And besides, she has other plans for this gown besides simple fashion.

Her husband has been ignoring her. She does not know if he truly noticed it himself, but she had seen little and less of him these past few weeks. Running countless errands with the excuse of duty, squeezing in training and dragonriding whenever he is given space enough to breath. She thinks she has only really seen him when he collapses in their bed at night, pressing a tired kiss to her cheek before falling asleep just as his head hits the pillow. There has been no time allotted for her and though she does not blame him for it- she had noticed rather quickly that he has a tendency to be very one track minded- she will not allow for it to stand any longer.

So she had decided to wear her new blue dress to show him just what he has been missing out on. To remind him that his wife is young and beautiful and here and needed more from him than a half mumbled goodnight.

And, much to her delight, he seems to notice immediately. She watches elated as his eye widens almost comically at her approach, roving over her as if he can’t quite believe that she’s real. It is not difficult to ignore him as he has her, instead making her way to stand before Aegon. She wishes him a happy nameday, endures the drunken, lazy smile he gives her as he assures her it is a very happy day indeed, before skirting around the table to sit by Aemond’s side. She does not deign to look at him, staring straight ahead at the crowd before them, and lets out a heavy sigh. His eye had been boring into the side of her face but it darts down then, watches as her breasts rise and fall with her breath, and she suppresses the urge to look too smug.

Aemond has always been good at keeping himself composed and so she expected him to have more resolve, to sit and stare for only the Gods know how long while he quietly seethed. So she is almost surprised when she feels his hand close around the back of her chair, leaning in close only a few moments after she has sat down.

“What are you wearing?” he manages to ask, grit out between clenched teeth.

She smiles, doing what she can to seem oblivious as she turns to look at him, head tilted. “Do you like it? I wasn’t sure which one to wear but my maid and I narrowed it down to this and the purple dress from Qarth. Do you remember it? Should I have worn that one instead?”

The question is rhetorical, as he knows very well which dress she is talking about. An ambassador from the Free Cities had arrived with a whole host of gifts for the royal family, including two massive crates filled with dresses for herself and Helaena. The pretty Lysene dress she wore now had been among them, along with gowns from Bravvos, Meereen, Essos, and the like. She had forced Aemond to sit and watch as she tried them all on, the latest fashions from all over the eastern world. The purple Qartheen dress had been particularly memorable to him as there was only enough fabric in the bodice to cover one breast, the other bared entirely. He had deemed the show over at that point and had fucked her against the wall to show his appreciation for the gown.

She bites her lip to suppress a grin when his face flushes red at the memory, his knuckles gone white around the knife’s handle in his hand. She swears she can hear the wood creak under his grip on her seat as well and doesn’t think she would be surprised if it cracked under his hand.

Her head cocks in the opposite direction as she hums, wordless encouragement to answer her previous question, but she isn’t entirely sure he is listening to her anymore. His eye has darted down again, tracing along the lines of her gown and she indulges him, pushing her chest out a little farther. It is almost funny, how she has reduced him to this. He almost reminds her of Aegon in this moment, a comparison she knows he would loathe. And though it is unkind and she knows that she should keep her torture confined to this alone, she want to see how far she can push him. It has been weeks-three, to be exact- since they had an intimate moment alone together and her patience for abstinence has worn thin. If this is her moment to ensure that her husband’s attention is on her entirely, then she is going to leap at it.

She does not have to wait long for her first opportunity to present itself. Lord Erwin Lannister, some second or third cousin off the main branch of the family tree, has come forward to offer good tidings and the moment he is done with Aegon, he sets his sights on her. Despite the fact that Aemond is practically limp across her lap, little Lord Lannister approaches with his head held high, offering them both a polite bow. The way he takes in her gown, however, is anything but polite, eyes hungry as he stares.

“My lady, it would be an honour to have your first dance of the evening, if you would indulge me.”

Aemond’s mouth twists immediately. “I would think that honour should go to the lady’s husband, should it not?”

The confidence Lord Erwin had arrived with falters at her husband’s tone, but she is not about to allow this opportunity to pass her by. Not without putting up some kind of fight.

“But you’ve been so busy, my love,” she laments, pressing a loving hand to his chest. “You should rest. I’m sure my Lord Lannister would be more than happy to dance with me, would you not, my lord?”

“Of course, my lady,” Lord Erwin agrees, likely far faster than he should have.

She graces the young lord with a smile before turning to press a kiss to Aemond’s cheek. She flits away quickly, standing and joining Lord Erwin on the floor. It takes everything in her not to look back at him, not to revel in the way he is surely seething at the loss of her attention.

Luck continues to be on her side, as the dance the musicians are playing requires her to stand quite close to Lord Erwin. The dance is one she knows well, so she does not need to think as she follows the steps. Instead, she dares to glance toward Aemond as she dances around the young lord, hardly paying him any mind as she watches her husband. She does not think Lord Erwin minds, as he is staring at her chest so single mindedly she does not think he would hear her should she speak to him. Aemond’s gaze is even more intense. His eye is trained on her as if he cannot bare to turn away, his mouth twisted and face drawn in a way she can’t quite describe. She recognizes the rage in his eye when it shifts from her to Lord Erwin, face hardening further, and she turns to face her partner.

“Are you enjoying the fete, my lord?” She asks, keeping her voice low so that there is no risk of Aemond hearing.

Despite his initial confidence, he looks almost shocked that she is speaking to him now and has to take a moment before responding, likely trying to decipher what it is she has just said. “Yes, my lady. Are you?”

She presses a little closer to him as the dance requires, eyes darting up to catch sight of Aemond and his clenched jaw before she turns back to the young lord and smiles. “Oh, yes. I am enjoying it immensely.”

She dances four more dances with separate partners before Lord Erwin returns, his confidence returning now that he believes Aemond will not be storming in to throw him aside. And Aemond does not turn away from her the entire time, his eye boring into her so fiercely she thinks it would cause anyone else to shy away. But not her. Instead, it takes everything in her to keep her smirk at bay, chest light as pride bursts through her.

“If I may be so bold, my lady, you look particularly beautiful this evening. Is this a new dress?” Lord Erwin asks, eyes once again locked on her chest.

“It is, my lord. Thank you. It is my husband’s favourite, I think.”

Though Lord Erwin opens his mouth to respond, a voice cuts him off before he can, a rough hand clasping around her elbow. “We’re going to retire for the evening.”

Lord Erwin is forgotten immediately as she turns toward her husband, smiling politely. “We have barely been here an hour, husband. Surely it is poor manners to leave so soon.”

“We’re leaving,” he repeats, much more stern this time.

Read the rest here :)

#Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aemond x reader #Aemond Targaryen smut #Aemond smut #Aemond Targaryen x you #Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon

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rufflesandbows · 1 year

Text

Made of Fire

Aemond X Reader (Rhaenyra Daughter)

Promises had been made. Maybe as children, but it would appear Aemond has not forgotten them. Not through the passage of time and not through the pain and the hate. The feud is coming to its sharp edge, and now he means to fulfil that promise. Claiming it is for duty and devotion, both of which you doubt.

Warnings: Incest, kidnapping, non/dub-con touching and heavy kissing Word Count: 2400 (Part 2/Final)

The sharp whip of winds chilled your cheeks and rushed past your ears. Most of your body was ice cold, except your back and around your waist, a firm grip keeping you upright. Your hips ached a little, and the world seemed to waver lightly, as if on calm waters. To rub your face, you attempted to lift your hands only to feel a harsh yank around your wrists. Your head snapped up, looking at your hands and in the night you could make out ropes binding you. In a panic you pulled again when a dragons deep rumble startled you, feeling the vibrations through your legs.

You were flying high in the full moon sky, tied to a dragon. In a gasp your heart jumped up your throat and you pressed back at the warm wall behind you, pulling on the ropes.

A sly shush came beside your ear. “Easy now.” You recognized that voice, a trembling sigh came from you. Gods above, just what did Aemond think he was doing!? “I had a difficult time convincing Vhagar to let you up here. She remembers what your brother did to me.”

The great dragon tilted her head to look behind herself, hearing her name, showing all those jagged teeth to the moonlight with a growl. It took a moment for you to catch your bearings, taking in the clouds against a twinkling sky. The great wings gave slow but heavy beats you could feel pulse through your body. You began to tremble all over, the fast winds, the darkness below, this was the first time you’d ever ridden a dragon. The egg that never hatched still sitting on your shelf back at Dragonstone. “Aemond. Think this through-”

Aemond pulled his face into your neck, taking a deep breath in and sending you on high alert. His arm didn’t tighten on you, he caressed you. Running his touch up and down your side. Your breath hitched, nervously shifting on the saddle. “It is as you said. You and I should have been wed ages ago.”

Quite the devoted claim. If only he meant it. You anxiously tried twisting your hands free of the ropes. “We should of been; to unite our families and put the petty feud behind us. I’m not a fool. I know you care nothing for me. You’re only taking me to upset my brothers.”

“Is that what you think?” He chuckled. In frustration you tugged the rope and Vhagar gave a lurch. She growled and shivered, the saddle swaying as if she might toss you both off. You cried out and gripped the bone of the saddle, panting hard with panic. Aemond however remained relaxed, adjusting the reins in his one hand and soothing his beast. “She knows you’re trying to escape. It would be in both our best interest if you stopped fighting. Besides, where will you go? You shove me off she won’t follow your command. She’ll kill you.”

“Where do you intend to take me?” All the resolution in your voice was gone, still frightened from your near plummet to the ground. “What do you plan to do?”

If he wanted to take your virtue, leave you humiliated he didn’t have to take advantage of your use of poppy milk to steal you away on dragonback.

“We’re going far from both our families. To Harrenhal, where we will wed as we should have been long ago.”

It didn’t make any sense. His words were plain but they couldn’t be simple. Why now? What did it matter to him when he’d done nothing but mock you and your brothers at dinner? You couldn’t help but think the worst. That he had something truly horrific waiting for you. That he meant to keep you as his plaything and break your body and mind. Even now his hand on your hip was roaming your body. Crossing your stomach, running up your chest, grabbing your breast through the thin night gown and placing a kiss on your jaw. He wouldn't stand less than five feet from you during the visit to Kings Landing, where was this coming from? The wind whipped away your tears before they could fall. “And then what?”

“We’ll be married. You will live with me. You will bear my children.”

And what else? What was he not telling you? “Aemond, I don’t understand-”

He laughed, his breath hot on your neck, his hand dropping back down to your hip, holding you steady against his lap. “Do you desire me no longer? Do you not remember all our long talks at the library? Our kiss under the weirwood?” His voice dropped low into a tease. “Do you think I didn’t catch you watching me train this morning, or sneak glimpses at the dinner table?”

You remembered all those events clearly. They all meant nothing in the wake of a kidnapping. With a thick swallow down a dry throat, you admitted, “I’m frightened.”

He gave pause before asking softly, “You think I’d hurt you?”

“I don’t know.” You gestured to the ropes around your wrists, keeping you tied to a beast that hated you. Looking into his face brought you no clear answers, only that whatever was in his mind was felt intensely. You felt his hand begin to move again, raising up to curl around your shoulder, to softly touch your cheek, to keep your eyes on him.

“When I take you to bed, you will know.”

You took back, parting your lips to speak when his mouth crashed to yours. Aemond buried you in his heat, pressing into you, fingers digging into your jaw to keep you locked to him as he delved further. You could taste a spiced sweetness on his tongue as it ran along yours. Could feel his chest rumble at your back as Vhagar’s did beneath your legs. Heat jumped down your spine, awakening your whole body to the winds chill. Your knees rose up on the saddle, trying to not pull on the ropes as he had his way with you. You squirmed and whimpered, helpless against his eager exploration.

When Aemond finally released you, you were both left gasping. You could feel his arousal against your backside, and unfortunately, the wind made you very aware of the dampness beneath yourself. Of the blood thrumming with life through you. You licked your lips, tasting one last time that spiced sweetness, gulping it down. His free arm wrapped around you again, tightly pressing you against his chest, growling in satisfaction.

He whipped the reins, Vhagar weaving up before diving lower. You could see the lake of the Gods Eye glittering, shocking you that you could see all sides of the great lake from so high up. As Vhagar drew closer, she began to pick up speed, descending faster and faster, your stomach crawling up your throat. You held onto the saddle for dear life, feeling yourself lift without the proper harness reserved for Aemond.

At a certain level Vhagar beat her wings and slowed, lowering herself into an open field a short distance from Harrenhal. Quickly the old dragon settled, but she had her head tilted just lightly, watching you and Aemond.

“Are you ready?” Aemond asked as you were still trying to catch your breath.

As you spoke, your voice was shivering. “Surely there isn’t a Maestor waiting at this hour.”

Aemond scoffed, “No. We’ll be staying at Harrenhal for the night and wed in the morning. That is, if you cooperate.”

Cooperate. Meaning you didn’t make a fuss about being kidnapped. That you play along as a woman madly in love with the prince, ready to take him to husband, take him to bed. The pregnant pause of your hesitation agitated Vhagar, her impatient roar amusing Aemond. You had tensed and he gave you what was supposed to be a comforting squeeze. “Hm? How about it, beloved?”

Neither Aemond or Vhagar were giving you much choice. Worse yet was thinking how it would unite the two bloodlines once again. Something both your mother and his had been desperately avoiding. Was it then your duty to the Realm to quell the mounting tensions on the edge of destruction? What was the price you were willing to pay to make that happen? Letting out a slow sigh, you nodded, “Alright. I’ll play along.”

“I knew you’d see things my way.” He pulled a blade from his hip and sliced the rope, freeing your wrists. You felt Vhagar’s gaze the entire decent down her side. You didn’t know a dragon could hate so personally. When your bare feet touched the ground, you gave a small cry at how cold it was, looking down at the instant chill seeping into your joints.

“Here.” You didn’t know where he produced them from, but he handed you a pair of your slippers. Uneasy, you slipped them on and let him take your hand. Aemond kept you locked tight by his side as he led you to the looming silhouette of Harrenhal, the pale moon touching the melted stone of the towers.

When the gates came into view, it was Lord Larys himself who greeted you both with a small bow. “Prince and Princess, it is an honor to house you both here.”

He could see the state you were in. The nightgown, the trembling, the clear fear in your eyes, yet he smiled back when you said nothing.

Aemond asked, “The rooms are ready?”

You looked between them, feeling ever more trapped as Larys nodded, “Oh, everything is ready, as you requested. The wedding will be underway first thing in the morning.”

It was clear they were working together, that it was planned for longer than your visitation. That no one would be sending you help, not even if you screamed and cried. Aemond nodded, pulling you along deeper into the cursed fort. “I apologize that it won’t be a grand wedding befitting a prince and princess, but we don’t want to draw in too much attention before the union can be consummated.”

A flush of fear sapped all the heat from you, making you shiver. “Then why not do it now? Get it over with?”

Aemond looked at you, a softness in his gaze. “Because you deserve more than that.” Still, you couldn’t understand him. A soft curl of his lip came as he stopped in the hall, “You’re not a concubine, or a whore to me. You might doubt my intentions, but I do intend to make you my wife, and give you every respect as such. You’ll have a wedding, a proper wedding and a feast. And when we return home, our houses will be united, as is our duty.”

You shook your head, “Then why didn’t you ask me? Why take me against my will? Why mock my family if you intend to share in our name? If you think I am nothing more than a bastard?”

“I only mock your brothers to rile them, the truth of your parentage matters nothing to me.” In spite of your very serious questions, he leaned in with a growing smile. “And you did promise yourself to me, once.”

You were not amused. Aemond however was tickled as his chuckle bounced off the stone walls and he led you further in. He stopped before a door at the very end, opening it up for you and for the first time, let your hand go.

Timidly, you walked in, looking around the properly decorated room for a noble guest. Your eye fell on the bed and you stiffened, spinning around quickly to watch Aemond. He stayed by the door, a wicked grin playing on his lips and a glitter in his eye. “Don’t you worry, I am no scoundrel. I will wait properly for the consummation. When you are my wedded wife.”

The word consummation made your stomach drop, pooling low at your waist. When you didn’t respond, just clutched yourself as wild thoughts of what was to come invaded, Aemond stepped forward. His movements were gradual and assured. He reached up and cupped your cheek, running his thumb along the still chilled flesh. There was such a daze as he looked at you, his eye roaming every detail of your face. His gaze fell on your lips, lingering there a long while. You gulped with anticipation, thinking of that kiss mid flight. It was far from the first between you, but it had been years ago that you two practiced in secret, with all the flair of amateurs. The very last having been under the weirwood, giving a promise to one another that you were made for each other. That was before Driftmark.

Aemond moved forward and you flinched, but didn’t pull back. Your heart was racing wildly, your body growing hot with uncertainty and inaction. Looking into you, the air was heavy, his intense gaze boring into you. More slowly he closed the distance, his eye not leaving yours for a single second as his lips softly placed on yours.

It was at the touch of your lips that his eye rolled to a fluttering close. His grip tightened, locked you against him, Aemond nodding deeper into the kiss. A whimper slipped from you, your hands planting on his chest. He was burning under your touch, Aemond breaking the kiss only to swallow you up again. A gasp parting your lips and allowing him to taste you once again.

His hand dropped low on your back, crushing you flush against him. It was suffocating being between his hungry embrace. Your choked breathing turned into panting, fanning his mouth between his lavishing dive into you. Aemond moaned, nearly picking you up off the floor as he gripped you again, eager to have you hop onto his waist.

A loud wet smack parted you and you took the split second moment to chide him, “Aemond.”

His breath hitched, stopping himself. “You’re right. Of course.” His words were rough with quick rapid breaths. He licked his lips, as if starving for more of you, savoring what little he could get. Slowly, his body trembling, Aemond set you down and pulled his arms from you. There was a pink flush in his cheeks, his lips glistening. Swallowing thickly, he dipped his head and stepped backwards toward the door. “Sleep well.”

The door shut behind him, and a moment later you heard the lock turn on the outside.

___ Let me know if you enjoyed the read! ♡ Art by Daniel F. Gerhartz

#hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #my writing

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 11 months

Text

Studious IV (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

You continue reading Aemond's diary. As his true feelings for you become ever more clear, can you decipher your own feelings for him?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: Aemond in his smut writer era (semi-public sex, p in v sex, tiddy suckin', riding, fingering, oral sex f receiving, bad sex)

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! But this baby is 11K words, so hopefully that makes up for it! Also, I tried for a long time to format this like the others, but tumblr wouldn't let me post it if I did, so the formatting is a little different here.

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious IV

You were never setting foot in the library again.

Not after what you just read. Not when you were sure that the mere memory of it would have you bursting into flames the moment you crossed the threshold.

Good gods, only a few entries ago, Aemond could hardly bring himself to write the word ‘cunt,’ and now this? What in the Seven Hells were his advisors – Grand Maester Orwyle, Lord Jasper Wylde, and Prince Aegon – teaching him?

You weren’t sure whether the odd feeling in your stomach was due to how much you ate – an entire meat pie and five tea cakes, all washed down with a pot and a half of raspberry tea – or what you had just read.

Either way, it was not enough to stop you from glancing about your bedchamber to ensure no one was watching you and then rereading the entry from the beginning.

The 16th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I have just returned from the library. Grand Maester Orwyle suggested that I consult a book on anatomy. Since there was no business of court I was required to attend today, I asked one of the librarians to help me retrieve the title after I finished my training.

I also found a few books Aegon recommended, only after I dismissed the librarian – I did not want him to know that I took those. Or that I even knew what they were. Gossip abounds in the capital, and I do not wish to be the subject of more than I already am.

By the titles alone, I am surprised Mother allows them to remain in the Keep. I likely will not read most of them. Aegon has already traumatised me quite thoroughly. I see no reason to allow him to ruin reading for me, as well. Although one title, ‘A Caution for Young Girls,’ seems innocent enough.

But the books are not why I am writing now, when my usual routine is to write immediately before I retire to bed. I just… I need to commit this to paper before it leaves me entirely.

On my way out of the library, I saw her. My wife – if I die tomorrow or in a hundred years, I shall never tire of calling her that.

She has quickly found the more private areas of the library, it seems. I would never have seen her if I had not been considering going there to read myself.

It must mean something that she did not choose just any of the countless hidden places within the maze of the library, but my favourite – a secluded alcove along the western wall. An indicator of our compatibility, perhaps. Or even a sign from the gods?

Had the books I’d been carrying not been so… unsuitable, I would have asked to join her.

No, I wouldn’t have. That would require far more courage than I can summon when I see her.

I just stared at her, watching her face as she read. From where I stood, I could not see what she was reading. But I could see her, and that was enough.

She is so expressive! I saw her both smile and frown in quick succession, and once, her entire face scrunched in displeasure as if she had just taken a bite of lemon! Gods, how can even such an unpleasant expression be so beautiful?

Perhaps I should not have watched her at all, for the longer I stood there, the further my mind drifted. And then, I heard Aegon’s voice, as clearly as if he were standing beside me.

‘Don’t limit yourself to the bedchamber brother, or even the bed! A wall or a table serves just as well. And there is a certain thrill to knowing you could be discovered…’

Damn him. Why did I ever ask for his assistance? I would have been better off enlisting the help of an actual whore! At least then, the vulgarity would not come from the future King. Damn him to the deepest of the Seven Hells.

But that stupid advice echoed in my mind over and over. And against my will and better judgement, an image began to form. A dream – a waking dream.

Though my feet remained planted on the floor, I imagined setting aside my books and joining her in that alcove. She would look up and smile upon hearing my approach, perhaps even giggle at my attempt at stealth.

I would sit beside her and ask what she was reading. I might even ask her to read to me. But I would not let her read for long.

I would kiss her while she read. Not on her lips but all over her perfect face. Her cheeks, her forehead, on the tip of her nose. All just to distract her, to make her laugh. Only when she made so much noise that I feared discovery would I kiss her lips to quiet her and finally claim my prize.

The kiss would not be like in the Sept, or in her chambers that night. Instead, she would kiss me back and open herself to me. I would kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her. Until we were both out of breath but still wanting more.

Seeing her like that, with her lips swollen and cheeks flushed… I would not be able to wait until we returned to our chambers. I would lift her onto that very table, books be damned.

Like our wedding night, we would not undress. We would be in too much of a hurry.

But even hurried, I would be gentle. I would take the time to prepare her, as Lord Wylde said I must do every time. Doing so makes the experience more pleasurable for the woman, he says. And Orwyle added that her enjoyment makes it more likely that the coupling will be fruitful.

Gods, I hardly care about that anymore. Of course, I want an heir, or several. But I want her more. I want her to feel as much pleasure as I do. To ‘peak,’ as Wylde and Orwyle put it. Aegon uses other words, but I find them too vulgar.

And in the library, making an heir would be the last thing on my mind. Even finding my own pleasure would be secondary. I would use my fingers to prepare her – perhaps get her to peak once before I even enter her?

Aegon says women can find release much more than men can. According to him, he once made a woman peak ten times in one night. I would be more amenable to believing him if he didn’t also claim he did so five times. But maybe he is right about ‘practising’ increasing stamina. Though he has had years of practice, and I have had only two days…

But in the dream world where I have the courage to approach her at all, and the gall to bed her in the library of all places (can you call it ‘bedding’ if it is not done in an actual bed?), I also have that stamina. And the skill to indeed make her peak with just my fingers.

I do not know what sounds she would make, as she was entirely silent on our wedding night, but I would want her to make them. I would want her to make such noise that I would have no choice but to kiss her to quiet her and keep her from drawing the attention of the rest of the library.

Even when I was buried within her, I would kiss her. With one arm wrapped around her hips to hold her steady as I fucked her so hard the table would shake, and the other hand tangled in her hair so I could kiss her just as hard.

I want to kiss her so badly. When I finally go to her again, that is what I will do first.

Once we had both finished – for I would ensure she peaked again with me inside her – I would kiss her more, softly, until our breathing steadied. Then, we would simply take our seats again, and this time, I would read to her.

By all the Seven, what has become of me? To not only have such thoughts but to revel in them as I do?

You didn’t bother reading the rest of the entry again before clutching the diary to your chest and staring at the bed canopy above you as a thousand questions burned through your mind and set your heart racing.

Had he been thinking about that the day he came to you in the library?

Was it what he intended to do, had you not reacted so poorly to his words?

Were you really wishing that he had?

You turned on your side, cradling his diary as you once did a small stuffed pony, and noticed for the first time that night had fallen – you had spent nearly the entire day reading. For a moment, you considered running to Aemond’s chambers. But when you looked back at the journal, there were still more than a dozen ribbons shut in its pages.

And if you went to him just after reading what you did…

Whatever was becoming of Aemond, no doubt thanks to the men he had asked for help in better bedding you, by reading his diary and the most private thoughts and fantasies contained within, it was becoming of you too. For when your eyes drifted closed, Aemond’s dream of the library became your dream as well.

The next several days of entries were almost identical.

Aemond woke at dawn after a night of dreams filled with you. They were not always of a carnal nature. Sometimes he dreamed simply of holding or kissing you. Once, he dreamed about flying with you atop his dragon. You didn’t know whether the prospect was thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

Each day, he broke his fast, trained, then ate a small meal before joining court.

Before joining you.

When he wrote in the diary after dinner and several hours of studying and ‘practising’ (you still could not determine what that meant), he still remembered every little thing you did. You had never spoken at court – it was not your place to. But he had catalogued your every movement and reaction to the business of the realm. Every raise of your brows, every repressed smile, and every curious tilt of your head.

You thought you were quite proficient at maintaining a regal mask of indifference. Your mother had you practice it on the journey to King’s Landing while she commanded your brothers to shout at you the most outrageous things they could think of (much of which she promptly scolded them for when they were done).

But Aemond saw through the mask. Not only that, but he correctly interpreted every movement you made.

He knew that the twitch of your lip when Lord Bolton made a petition was a sign of your marked distaste for the man. He knew the scrunch of your brow upon the reading of a missive from a Pentosi diplomat was you noticing a contradiction from the previous message and realising the diplomat was lying. And he knew that you stiffened every time he looked at you because you were nervous about what he would say or do.

Aemond knew you. Even then.

And yet you had so dreadfully misunderstood him.

The shame of it was enough to make you set down the diary and call for a bath – a private bath, without any of your maids present even in the adjourning rooms. You gave an excuse that you were exhausted and simply wished to remain alone.

But really?

As part of his study of the anatomy book Orwyle recommended, Aemond had drawn a diagram of what lay between a woman’s legs. And annotated it based on the advice of Lord Wylde and Prince Aegon.

You were curious to see – with the aid of a hand mirror – just how accurate the diagram and annotations were.

You awoke the following morning feeling more refreshed than you had since you came to the palace, from both the welcome break in your courtly duties and the exploration you had conducted in the privacy of your bath. Though you were fairly sure you did not reach a ‘peak,’ as Aemond described it, you felt close to the height of something several times. But each time, you panicked at the intensity of the racing feelings within you and withdrew your hand. Still, those few minutes of pleasure were incredibly relaxing.

And as it was Aemond’s notes that allowed you to discover the feeling that your own clumsy attempts had failed to bring, the prospect that you would – eventually – once more join him in his bed became thrilling beyond reason.

In truth, the only thing that stopped you from rushing across the castle the very moment you emerged from the bath was the unfortunate fact that you were still bleeding, though it was light.

More than that, while your body was more than ready to forgive Aemond, your heart and mind were still hesitant. He had hurt you. He made you cry. Reading his diary helped you understand that it had never been intentional. However, you still needed to understand everything before making a final decision on whether to forgive him and if you could, as Aemond hoped in his note, ‘learn to like’ or even to love him.

So, after breaking your fast, you again settled into the couch and turned to the next green ribbon.

The 23rd day in the 5th moon of the year

Were Aegon not my brother and the heir, I would throw him from the top of the Rookery.

‘A Caution for Young Girls’ is no such thing. It is little more than a manual in promiscuity and sin!

But… damn him. It is quite educational.

Unlike the book Grand Maester Orwyle suggested, it is not focused on the science of anatomy or conception. Rather, it is entirely concerned with the pleasure of women. After all, it is the supposedly true story of a woman’s quest for pleasure.

A Wylde woman, if it is to be believed. I may have to ask Lord Jasper about it. Is this why he’s had such success with his own wives?

But that, and indeed the sinful nature of the book itself, is unimportant. What is important is that it may actually be the key to my learning how to pleasure my wife.

It spoke at length of various methods of using one’s fingers. Crooking the fingers while within seems to be crucial, as is locating a ‘sweet spot’ where her walls feel slightly different. That spot, as well as the ‘pearl’ which lays at the top of her sex, is the epicentre of her pleasure.

And, like the others said, preparation is required. This is where the use of the fingers comes into it – as well as various other methods. For example, the book mentions kissing quite often, and not only on the lips. Or the cheeks. Or even anywhere on the face.

I admit the idea, though it is new to me, is quite appealing. The book mentioned several places where women most like to be kissed. The jaw, the throat, behind the ear, the nape of the neck, the collarbone…

There was a spot of ink, as though Aemond’s pen had been resting on the page without moving for a long moment.

…the breasts, and lower.

I do not understand why. Perhaps it is because of Aegon’s incessant comments about the breasts of every woman in the Keep, save our mother and his wife – would that he would also exclude my wife! – but I find myself thinking about her breasts with startling frequency. I did not get to see them on our wedding night after I foolishly forgot to undress her.

There is a story in the book which… well, I find myself wanting to replicate. One which would provide me ample access to her breasts. But more than that, it carries an intimacy which I crave most of all.

When Lady Coryanne was serving as a handmaid to a warlock in Qarth, she often found herself called to help him ‘relax’ after a long day. On such occasions, she would mount him while he sat at his desk and ‘ride’ him while he buried his face in her breasts.

I… it was easy to imagine my wife and me in a similar, though more loving, position. Likely not at my desk, as I don’t actually use it often. But perhaps, here. On my chair by the hearth, where I read my books and write in this diary before bed.

She would come back – for she would be living here, with me, not across the Holdfast and so far away – after a long day. Maybe she would have been in the gardens, or with Mother, Helaena and the children, or in the library for hours. I would have been stuck away from her all day in meetings, court, or training.

Even apart from her for only a day, I would miss her terribly. As I do every hour I do not see her. And she would miss me too.

When she came in, she would press herself against the door as she locked it, then turn to me with a mischievous grin. I would know what she wanted, but I would not play along. Instead, I’d mutter a greeting and turn back to my book, pretending that my blood was not racing at just the sight of her. For I want her blood to be as heated as mine.

You read the last paragraph again, the realisation finally set in that Aemond was about to narrate another of his fantasies. Fortunately, after his previous entry about the library, you decided to be more cautious and had already dismissed your servants until your afternoon meal. You had suspected that there may be more in the diary that was thoroughly unsuitable for prying eyes.

And, thanks to his diligent notetaking, you knew precisely what to do when the feelings such unsuitable words provoked began to burn through you.

You undoubtedly did not want an audience for that…

I would let her tease me, pretending none of it fazed me. When she brushed her fingers lightly across my shoulders, I would not flinch. When she leaned over me further than she would really need to see what I was reading, but wanting me to see that peek of her breasts nearly spilling out from her dress, I would barely look. And when she pressed a kiss, long and slow, to my neck – gods, would I like that too? – I might even pretend it was an inconvenience.

It would vex her that I did not give her the attention she desperately wanted. Not enough to truly anger her, but only enough to make her pout. So that when she took the book from my hands and dropped it to the floor, then sat atop me in the chair with her thighs straddling mine… I would simply have no choice but to grab her little lip as she stuck it out and push it back into place before kissing her.

I would kiss her in every place the book instructs, taking my time to worship every bit of her. I want to drive her as mad as she does me just by her mere existence.

But I know she would not simply let me tease her. She would return each kiss I gave her and more. Atop me, she would roll her hips slowly, purposefully, as if we were engaged in a dance. I would be able to feel her, hot and wet and as eager as me, but each time I rose to meet her, she would pull away.

Gods, am I really wishing for her to deny me? Perhaps practising as Aegon instructed has conditioned me to crave such delays to my satisfaction.

Either way, I think I would break before she did. She is strong-willed, and with as many brothers as she has, I believe she can be quite patient. So, I would beg. I would apologise for trying to tease her and plead for her forgiveness. And for her to…

She would, I hope, without hesitation. She would rise only long enough for her to remove her smallclothes and for me to do away with my trousers. Then, we would both sit again, together, with me gently guiding her down to mount me – Seven Hells, that makes it sound like I’m a horse.

I’ll be whatever she wants.

Again, and as always, I would give her a moment to adjust and make sure she is comfortable. Orwyle’s book said that with well-endowed partners – which, according to the measurements in the book, I am – women may always need that moment.

But I would be glad to give it to her. For it would allow me to unlace her bodice, and like the warlock from the book, I could bury my face in my beloved’s breasts.

I find it hard to imagine what it would be like, how they would feel. Soft, I think. Warm, as she is. And perhaps, if I pressed close enough, I could hear her heart beating.

When I was fully settled within her, would I hear it beat faster? Or would it slow with contentment, knowing she was safe and loved – oh so dearly loved – within my arms. Perhaps it would be like the stories, and I would hear it skip a beat.

Either way, I would be more than content to just sit there, breathe her in, and let her move at her own pace. We would not need to be fast, as we would in the library. In my own rooms – our rooms – there would be no need for hurry. We could just stay there, entwined, or we could move together.

I think I would prefer it slowly. Not even seeking our releases, really. Just… enjoying each other. Enjoying the connection of our bodies, our minds, and our souls. Knowing that we are one, that the gods have made us one, and that nothing can tear us apart.

Although… I do think her legs would get tired after a while. That is something I should perhaps be worried about. Especially if she did want to move, and fast. To seek release.

If she did, I would help her. The book did not detail how, as Lady Coryanne was a servant at the time, but… I could figure it out. I could move my hips up to meet hers, or even lift her on my own? I think doing so with my hands on her hips would give me the most leverage. Or perhaps her rear?

I am very drawn to the idea of holding her close as we reach our peaks. Of feeling her breath on my skin, being close enough to hear each little noise she makes, and the sensation of her gripping me as tight as she can as she comes. Even the thought of her nails digging into me brings a certain thrill. And if I don’t reach my peak with her – which, I think, is very unlikely – we can always continue. Or move somewhere more comfortable if her legs do get tired.

At this point, I think I am more than ready to practice. Of course, this wasn’t my intention when I started writing, but… yes, I am most definitely ready. And anything else I wanted to write about seems inconsequential now.

You dropped the diary onto your heaving chest, the image Aemond’s words had painted still burning in your mind. Seven Hells, you could practically feel his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you moved together, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered words of praise between desperate kisses.

With a hazy smile, you snuggled further into the couch and beneath your blanket. As exhilarating as the descriptions of his desires were, what truly warmed your heart was the way he wrote about you, the two of you together.

The connection of your souls as one? It was exactly what you’d dreamed of when first told of your betrothal. Aemond was what you dreamed of.

Why did he have to stop writing? What in the name of the Seven was he practising that was more important than that?

Frustrated and with your pleasure now truly over, you closed the diary and turned on your side, resigned to simply stewing in your own thoughts for the few hours left until your maids returned.

After a light, solitary afternoon meal, you again dismissed your maids. By this point, they were more than a little suspicious about the titleless book you were reading. But, you insisted that you simply wanted to be alone, for your moon’s blood still plagued you. It wasn’t entirely a lie. You did still have some cramping and a slight headache.

In truth, it was because you knew what would happen in just a few entries – your second night together.

It surely wouldn’t be as thrilling as some of his other fantasies. You knew that firsthand. But after learning what Aemond felt for you, you were desperate to know his side of that night.

So desperate, in fact, that you barely skimmed the following two entries in your haste to reach it. Both primarily had to do with whatever smut he had read in A Caution for Young Girls. The first was a rather exhaustive list of all the ways he wanted to kiss you – and there were far more ways than you were previously aware of.

The second caused your most intense blushing yet, for it was near treasonous! After reading another story of Coryanne Wylde ‘riding’ a man, he fantasised about you riding him while he sat on the Iron Throne. It was an intriguing idea, but it seemed a little too hazardous to tempt you.

Finally, you reached what you had been waiting for.

The 26th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I had hoped not to make an entry today – for I had every intention of spending tonight in my wife’s chambers. But she is there, and tragically, I am here.

Tonight was almost worse than our wedding night.

When I saw her watching me in the training yard today, I thought… she was almost smiling – at me! She had no obligation to be there, and yet she was! She sought me out! She wanted to see me!

I had to bite back a cry of joy and relief. I immediately abandoned the rest of my training, nearly impaling the poor squire with my sword for how hard I threw it at him, so I could rush to the ramparts and greet her.

But when I got there, she was gone. I asked a few of the other lords and ladies that were there, but no one knew where she went. Even after speaking to her, however briefly, I still do not understand why she left.

You felt your cheeks flush with shame. Aemond hadn’t grimaced at you that day – quite the opposite. He had been so excited to see you there, and as usual, you had misinterpreted his reaction.

Or, based on how frequently these misunderstandings occurred, perhaps his expressions were merely indecipherable to normal people. Or, more likely, maybe just to you.

You set his diary down, careful to use one of your discarded ribbons to mark your place, and picked up your own. By this point, you had filled several pages with your reactions to Aemond’s writing – some of it sincere, some bordering on humour.

Yet you had no words to express how sorry you were that you had so thoroughly misjudged him. So you wrote nothing and just kept reading.

When I went to her chambers to check on her, I encountered one of her maids, who told me she had retired early with a headache and would not be joining the family for dinner.

Perhaps I should have gone into her chambers then and asked what was wrong. I knew – or at least suspected – that the headache was a lie. An excuse to allow her privacy. I often do the same, citing my scar. Which, as I told her, is not always a lie.

But if I had gone to her, as I wished. I would not have known what to say. Ask her why she ran from the training yard without speaking to me? Or why she wanted to avoid me and the family? Tell her I’m sorry for the disappointment of our wedding night? Ask Beg for a second chance?

I could not do it. I was tired from training and admittedly still somewhat discombobulated from realising she had been watching me. Though I did make it to her door, I merely touched the handle for a moment before retiring to my own chambers.

Now, after yet another disastrous visit… I should have gone to her earlier. I should have trusted my instincts (as Aegon often encourages me to do) instead of allowing my mind to think itself into an inescapable hole.

As I bathed and redressed, and even while attending court and dinner, I could not stop thinking about her. Agonising over what I may have done to make her flee from me?

I never even considered that she may actually have a headache until I was again at her door after dinner. The fear that I was disturbing her, perhaps making her pain worse, was nearly enough to make me turn and flee.

But then, her voice came, soft and light and so enticing. Of course, I somehow managed to answer idiotically when she asked who it was. Though she lessened the sting of embarrassment with a small joke. She is so achingly clever!

I asked her how she was, and her answer made it evident that the headache was a ruse. I am trying not to be too proud that my deduction was correct. She is not used to lying, nor is she good at it. And it is yet another thing I admire about her.

For hours, I planned what I would say to her. It was eloquent and thoughtful – practically poetry.

The tail of the last ‘y’ extended nearly an inch, and you imagined Aemond just staring at the page, consumed by his thoughts for a moment.

But her room looked different tonight. She finally unpacked.

There is a large tapestry above her hearth depicting her home keep, the field below filled with vibrant pink flowers with bright yellow centres. The same flowers appear nearly everywhere. On framed examples of embroidery, on her curtains, pillows, and even the blanket strewn over the back of her couch.

I must find out what they are, for they are clearly very important to her.

You looked up from the diary, glancing about your room. Indeed, you had not realised how many dog roses decorated your possessions. It was no wonder he guessed they were your favourite.

‘I was quite impressed when you brought me my favourite flower,’ you wrote in your diary. ‘I thought you had somehow read my thoughts. I suppose I made it easy for you.’

She also has a large bookcase in her sitting room, which was specifically requested when her father sent word accepting the betrothal. Since the last time I was in her chambers, she has begun to fill the shelves with books and trinkets. I spotted a small silver bell, a wooden box carved with various birds, and a little glass flower. It was not the same flower that is so prevalent elsewhere in her chambers (this one was a pale purple rather than pink), but still quite pretty.

While pondering that flower, I returned to the couch to compare it to the pink flower on her blanket and saw what she had been reading – “The Last Dragonlords,” my first, and still favourite, history of my house. It is not a particularly rigorous academic work, but I prefer it for the sense of wonder it has for the story of my ancestors.

If, at that point, I remembered any of what I wanted to say to her, the sight of that book, and the knowledge that she was somehow reading my favourite… I lost all words. I fear I fell silent for an uncomfortably long time, for she spoke next.

She wanted to know the reason for my visit. I asked her directly about the ruse of her headache. She seemed nervous, so I told her I do the same and that I often experience lingering pain. I was tempted to remove my patch and show her, but… she was already quite nervous. I did not want to make her more so, or frighten her so thoroughly that she will never warm to me.

What lay beneath his eyepatch that would frighten you so? You had heard many rumours. That his lost eye was nothing more than a pit of darkness. That he had replaced it with a jewel. That an ever-burning fire, fueled by his hatred and rage, burned within.

Despite the stories, you felt a twinge of shame and hurt that, despite his love for you, he did not trust you with seeing him truly bare. He thought you could be frightened away.

Somehow, that shame far overshadowed any curiosity or fear about what lay beneath the brown leather of his eyepatch.

I could already tell it wasn’t going to go how I wanted – she would not meet my eye. So, I offered to leave. I would not impose myself on her when she did not want me to. That is not how I want to start this. Or, start it again.

But she did want me to go! At least, that is what I thought she meant. I am not so sure anymore. She said something about my right to be there as her husband. At the time, I thought it was her shy way of asking me to stay. Now… I think she may have just been repeating something her mother or a Septa taught her.

There was another small patch of angry scribbles.

I’m so stupid! And hardly better than Aegon. No – she may not have been particularly enthusiastic, but I am sure if she genuinely did not want me there, she would have said so. And I would have obeyed. After all, she was quick to ask me to stop some of the other things I tried to do.

She did not like the kissing.

When I first mentioned that I would like to lie with her – which I foolishly reasoned was out of my desire for an heir instead of my desire for her – she simply laid on the bed like on our wedding night. But that is not what I want. I do not want this to simply be a union of duty! At least, not anymore. And I so wanted to kiss her.

So, I beckoned her to me, and she obeyed. My hopes that this would be different were still relatively high. I got closer, touched her face, and asked if I could kiss her.

And she asked, ‘Why?’

I swear that one little word hurt more than any pain I’ve felt in the training yard. Almost more than… well, not quite more than that. But close.

I could not think of any reason other than that she is my wife, and I love her and want more than anything to kiss her. I only told her the former and the latter, for I think if I told her I loved her, she would have been more afraid than if she had seen me without my patch. And the gods must be good, for she said yes.

Then I kissed her. I held her close, and I kissed her.

It was the most wonderful thing! She was soft and warm. And when I laced my hand through her hair, she made the most delightful sound! I could have just kissed her forever.

But then it was over. She shouted and pushed me away. It was… it was just after I tried to use my tongue. I don’t think she liked it.

She asked me why I ‘needed’ to kiss her. She must have disliked it very much.

I had no other explanation than what I had already offered. At least, none that I could tell her without sending her running from me forever. So I stopped and told her I did not need it – the first lie I’ve ever told her.

When she moved back to the bed, I could not help myself. I could not let us be in a marriage where we lie together out of nothing more than duty, fully clothed and anxious to get it over with. It was foolish, and I probably scared her with the request, but I asked her to remove her nightgown. She had already taken off her robe – a massive thing in her house colours that practically drowns her.

You allowed a brief kernel of anger to spark within you, enough for you to pick up your pen and write him another little message in your diary.

‘That robe is dear to me, thank you very much. What is it that makes you hate it so?’

There is nothing more beautiful in the world than her. She puts even the Maiden to shame. I would have been happy to stare at her, to take in that beauty until I had my fill – if I would ever get my fill.

She got on the bed and positioned herself exactly how she was on our wedding night. Not quite how I pictured it, but considering her hesitancy, I did not want to push her.

It took all my control to stop myself from kissing her again when I undressed and joined her. But I did. I also resisted doing anything more than just looking at her breasts.

I sat between her legs and stared at her. While I was more than ready to begin, she was not. At all. Of course, I knew I would have to prepare her, but I hoped she would have had at least some desire for me already.

I started with gentle touches, drawing circles on her thighs. She shivered a bit when I began, but she didn’t ask me to stop. From where I was sitting, I could tell she enjoyed it, even if she didn’t understand it. She did ask me to explain, and my answer was probably lacking – how does one explain why he was so inadequate? – but she gave a small nod when I promised that tonight would be better.

Then I finally touched her where I really wanted to and was delighted to find her… well, not as wet as I’d hoped, but it was an improvement upon our wedding night! I ran my fingers over her entrance, hoping to coax more wetness from her before I truly began. And when I looked at her again to ensure I wasn’t hurting her, she smiled at me!

Encouraged, I kept my fingers at her entrance, not venturing inside yet, but continuing my preparations there while I began to seek her pearl. As the books said, I only had to draw a straight line upward from her entrance to find it.

And, oh, when I found it! Her eyes snapped shut, her back arched off the bed, and the most glorious whine escaped her! It was everything I had imagined and more. Gods, I think I could have peaked just from watching her as I circled her pearl again and again, faster and faster.

But then, she asked me to stop – begged me to.

I thought I must have done something wrong, but she shook her head when I asked if it hurt. And when I asked if it felt good, she would not answer. She merely requested that I get on with what I needed to do and leave, for she was tired. This wound cut even deeper than before with the kissing.

I wanted to prepare her more – I was going to use my mouth on her. To show her how dearly I wish to please her, how much I want to worship and love her, if only she’d let me.

In anticipation of that act, I have been consulting Coryanne Wylde’s various accounts and expert critiques of the act in order to form the perfect strategy.

To begin, I would undress her, as I planned to do on our wedding night, laying gentle, nearly chaste kisses on each new bit of skin I revealed. Once she was bare, I would kiss her. Deeply. To give her a taste of what is to come. Then, I would kiss my way down. Her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts, and the plane of her stomach.

Once I made it past her navel, I would take her leg in my hand and begin a new trail of kisses upwards. The book says to start at the ankle, but I am too impatient for that – I will begin at the knee instead.

Just when she thought I was finally about to give her what she craved more than anything, I would once again change course to kiss her lips one final time. Then, I would descend.

I would start slowly, experimenting with different tactics to determine what drives her deliciously mad. Once I knew, I would feast. I would devour her like her pleasure was the air I needed to breathe. Like her cries of pleasure were beautiful music, and I would die if it ever stopped.

I would bring her to peak once with my mouth on her entrance. Again on her pearl. Then again and again in whichever way made her scream the loudest.

Only when she was so drunk with pleasure that she could no longer rise to meet my mouth or grasp at my hair would I relent. I would make my way back up to her mouth and soothe her with gentle kisses until she had regained herself and was begging for me to finally fuck her.

But I didn’t get to do any of that.

She asked me to stop, so I did. I pumped myself a little to ensure the disappointment hadn’t rendered me incapable of performing my duty and entered her.

The preparation did help. Entering her was easier, and she did not wince as much as the first time. And she felt even more heavenly somehow. The feeling was so intense that I had to take a moment to remind myself that she only wanted me to finish quickly so she would not have to endure me any longer.

So, I fucked her. I did not make love to her, as is my true desire. I just fucked her, like she was just any woman and not the love of my life.

And then, a miracle! I thrust into her, something about the angle allowing me in quite deep, and she reacted. She gasped, breathless, and her hips snapped up to meet mine. I froze in surprise and elation. I found her ‘sweet spot!’

But when I smiled at her, she turned away and refused to look at me again.

I just kept going. I did not try to hit that spot again, so as to not upset her further. I finished as quickly as I could and left the bed.

It was stupid of me, but I turned back to her after dressing. Everything had gone so horribly, but I still love her. I still need her. So I could not just leave her like that.

I asked if I could kiss her again. She let me. I was quick, as promised.

Then I came back here, once again alone and no closer to earning her love than I was before.

I must meet with my advisors again tomorrow. Perhaps they can help me understand why I keep fucking this up so badly when all I want is for her to let me love her the way I want to and for her to love me in return.

Your heart ached so severely that you thought there might be bruises when you looked down at your chest. But there was just skin – skin that Aemond would have happily kissed, had you let him.

As horrible and confusing as that night had been for you, it had been so tenfold for Aemond. He had wanted a grand, romantic evening, and you had greeted him with only coldness and suspicion.

He called you ‘the love of his life.’ You ran your finger over those words so many times that they became smudged, then went to write something in your diary but halted with your pen hovering over the paper.

What could you write to match what he’d said about you? Even if you could, would it really be true? How many times could you say, ‘I’m sorry?’

Well, at least one more time. ‘I’m so sorry, Aemond,’ you wrote, ‘I didn’t know, and I was still scared. Not of you, but of what I thought my life was to be. If you had only told me… I do not blame you, I swear. I just wish the both of us had been more honest with each other.’

You were far too exhausted to continue. It was not yet midafternoon, and you had already been from the near-heights of carnal pleasure to the depths of your despair that the unfortunate state of your marriage was, in actuality, mostly your fault.

So, after setting Aemond’s diary aside, you picked up your embroidery basket and began to work while your mind wandered.

It was only when your maids arrived to bring you dinner that you realised that, somehow, the dog roses you intended to make had become a sprawling wisteria vine.

You dreamed of the castle garden in late spring when all the flowers were in bloom. As you walked down the garden path, you saw every colour imaginable amongst the vibrant greens. But there was only one flower you really wanted to see – and the man you knew would be waiting for you beneath them.

Just as the first purple tendrils came into view, the dream faded, and you woke to see the first hints of dawn still beneath the horizon.

Drawing your blankets over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and stubbornly tried to fall back asleep and return to your dream – to no avail. You were well and truly awake. And it would be some time before your maids came to dress you for the day.

So, dragging the blanket from your bed with you, you trudged back into your solar and settled into the couch before picking up Aemond’s diary again.

The 27th day in the 5th moon of the year

I met with Lord Wylde, Grand Maester Orwyle, and Aegon this morning. They had advice, but it was not as… straightforward as I had hoped. There is no simple trick to get her to love me. Nothing I can study from a book and then implement with assured success.

I have to woo her. I have to be witty and pleasant and charming and… romantic.

I do not think this is going to work.

Especially not after my first attempt was so disastrous.

Lord Wylde asked that I tell him about her, so I did. When he learned she enjoys reading as much as I do, he suggested I try to find common ground there. So, I went to try and find her in the library.

She was exactly where she was the last time I saw her there, still reading “The Last Dragonlords.” I watched her for a moment, savouring the look of contentment on her face as she read, as well as a few quick reactions to the book. How I love it when her nose scrunches in displeasure!

‘That is quite the odd thing to fixate on,’ you wrote in your diary. It seemed a decent night’s sleep had helped recover some of your humour. ‘What is it, in particular, that you like about my scrunched nose?’

She did smile at me when I approached, but I think she thought I was a Maester, for her smile faltered when I greeted her. And she was so shy. Usually, when I struggle to find the right words, she breaks the silence. Today, she did not.

At least it gave me time to remember why I came to the library. She was still reading “The Last Dragonlords,” so I told her it was my favourite and asked if I could join her. I think she was somewhat embarrassed about reading a children’s book, but I assured her it was no matter and that I would nonetheless enjoy reading it with her, and she allowed me to sit with her.

My plan was to sit with her, discuss the histories, and perhaps, in time, hold her hand as a first step toward genuine affection. But the plan quickly went awry.

It all happened so fast that I don’t even remember exactly what I said. But somehow, I insinuated that she was not intelligent enough to understand the book. The book meant for children – young children.

She was very upset with me. Rightfully so! Still upset enough that she stormed out of the library after making several cutting remarks that proved that she is, in fact, quite intelligent.

After several minutes and a brief reprimand from one of the Maesters, I finally gathered myself enough to realise that she had left the book there. As well as several pages of notes.

Of course, the noble thing would have been to not look and ask a servant to return them to her. But in that moment, I was desperate, not noble. So, I looked.

Her notes were beautifully organised and remarkably thorough – the work of a true scholar! She even crafted a beautiful family tree all the way through Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. Had I not fumbled our initial interaction so entirely, we would have had a wonderful discussion.

You had feared him finding the notes, but you had never considered that he would be impressed rather than arrogantly amused. It made sense now that you knew his true nature. Perhaps, once whatever was between you was resolved, you could have that discussion.

In all honesty, there were a few questions you had that you hoped he would be able to answer. Not least of which being why in more than a thousand years, Targaryens had only come up with a dozen names that they repeated over and over again. You wrote as much in your diary.

It was useless for me to sulk in the library, agonising over what I should have said, so I gathered the book and her notes and left the library.

An apology was more than necessary, so I went to Aegon’s rooms. After all, there is perhaps no one with more experience apologising to women. Even if his apologies are self-serving.

When I arrived, I found Mother had already found Aegon first, and was well into another tirade about his behaviour. Normally, I would be happy to watch Mother yelling at him, but I did not feel I had time to. And Aegon was glad that I granted him a reprieve.

Admittedly, I had not wanted to admit to Mother that my wife and I were… not as close as I wanted. But, as she always is, she was eminently understanding, and far more helpful than Aegon was. His only suggestion was to bring her something nice – jewels, silks, or the like.

On the other hand, Mother gave me sage advice on what to say when I go to her. As my words have been my primary point of failure, I was very grateful for this. She did also say that a gift would not be amiss. An ‘offering of peace,’ she called it. But she advised something personal, not luxurious. If the gift is too valuable, she says, it will seem as if I am trying to buy her forgiveness rather than earn it.

I knew immediately what I should get her. I thanked Mother (and Aegon) and left at once for the gardens.

I found them – the flowers she loves so dearly. Dog roses, they are called. Unfortunately, they do not grow well in our climate, but the Maester’s managed to coax a few to bloom with their various potions and other horticultural creations.

They are almost as beautiful as her.

The Maester I spoke to said that it would be best if I had them cut just before I brought them to her, to preserve their beauty. So that is what I will do.

I will not practice tonight. At least… not that kind of practice. Instead, I will rehearse my apology. I cannot fail tomorrow.

You winced slightly, knowing that the next day would not go as Aemond planned and feeling as though it was your fault. But there was no changing that now. And you had already apologised – often and profusely.

So, you wrote only a simple note: ‘I don’t recall seeing dog roses on our tour of the gardens. Did you pluck them all?’

Looking back at his diary, you took a deep, steadying breath. Only two ribbons left.

The 28th day in the 5th moon of the year

I am the stupidest, most idiotic man in all the seven fucking kingdoms.

All I was trying to do was apologise to her for my unkind – though unintentionally so! – words in the library, but somehow it ended with her crying and me fleeing from her chambers yet again.

You cringed at the memory, almost not wanting to read on.

Aegon gladly offered his explanation, even after I told him I did not want it. He insists that I have so thoroughly repulsed her that she cannot help but burst into tears at the sight of me.

Mother thinks that she is just missing her family and her home, as she said. That she is overwhelmed by being alone in a strange place, and the familiar sight of the flowers – dog roses, as I have learned – brought those feelings to bursting.

Perhaps Mother is right. But her parents left a fortnight ago, and she has shown no other signs of homesickness. And she is not alone! She has the other ladies of the court to talk to, and Helaena and Mother adore her. And me.

If she came to me, I would do anything to cheer her. Not that she would seek comfort from me, no matter how dearly I wish she would. She certainly won’t after today.

After the disaster in the library yesterday and the scolding I received from Grand Maester Orwyle after my training this morning, I knew beyond a doubt that I needed to apologise. I… the shame I feel for having played any part in the state Orwyle described her in is unbearable.

So, I went to the gardens and had a Maester cut the flowers for me and arrange them in a simple bouquet.

She was on her couch when I arrived in her rooms – still in her nightgown and that robe. And again, she did not look at me. She had eyes only for the flowers. I thought then that they had been the right choice.

I apologised, but she did not react. She still just stared at the bouquet. So, I went ahead with the rest of my apology.

Then she touched my hand. It startled me, and I pulled away from her on instinct, dropping the bouquet in her lap. She looked at them like I had dropped a helpless kitten rather than flowers!

And she started crying. Softly, the tears welling in her eyes for a long moment before spilling over. I do not understand what I did to upset her. I said only what I had planned last night. It was so hard to resist brushing the tears away, but she seemed nearly volatile, and I did not want to make things worse.

‘I miss home,’ she said, finally.

It did sting that she does not consider King’s Landing and her life with me her home – it still does. But she is hundreds of miles away from the family of her birth, from the people who have undoubtedly treated her better than I have. I cannot blame her.

I apologised again for upsetting her and left.

At dinner, I had planned to ask Mother and Grandsire if we could find a way to send her home, at least for a little while. So she could be happy. Perhaps I could even go with her. I might have an easier time talking to her without the pressures of my family and the capital upon me.

You smiled at the thought of Aemond at your home keep. Of him in all his black leather among the fields of dog roses. Talking with your father in the library. Him training with your brothers – you were confident he could defeat any one of them alone, but knowing your brothers, they would absolutely gang up on him.

‘One day,’ you wrote, ‘I would love to show you my home.’

I was waiting for the opportunity to ask when she arrived! After this afternoon, I did not think she would come to dinner, but she did! I could have wept for my relief.

And when I offered my hand to her, she took it. Not only that, but she squeezed it – hard. I think believe it was her way of accepting my apology.

She did not speak during dinner, nor did anyone ask her too many questions. Aegon was his typically infuriating self, silently encouraging me to do something with her. What he expects me to do when in front of the entire family, I do not know.

After the meal, I offered to escort her back to her chambers, which she accepted. And once we were alone, she thanked me for the flowers!

It was going unusually well. That is, until I decided to open my mouth. I only meant to compliment her, as she did look quite beautiful, but… I just kept talking. And then I had suddenly insulted her gown from yesterday and her robe.

She closed herself off from me then, shoving away my arm. Why could I not just shut up? I know my words are the source of so many of our misunderstandings, yet I keep talking! At this point, I am strongly considering a vow of silence.

‘Please don’t take a vow of silence!’ you wrote, scrambling for your diary as if it mattered how quickly you got the words down. ‘Your voice is far too lovely for me to never hear it again.’

Tomorrow, I am going to try a suggestion from Lord Wylde. Show her that I am not a failure in everything I do. I pray it works.

You turned the page, expecting to find the entry for the next day, but there was none. There had been a page between the entries for the 28th and the 30th, but it had been sloppily torn out. All that remained was the beginnings of the date in the upper corner.

It was entirely against what you knew of Aemond. The man who had dutifully started his journal on the first day of the year and began each entry on a new page would not do something like this.

What had upset him so? Had you said something to him?

No, of course not. The only time you had seen him that day was in the training yard, and you hadn’t spoken to each other, not after… not after he stormed off. Had he actually been hurt in his fight with the Kingsguard? Or was he just embarrassed that you had witnessed him fall?

Gods, how you wished you had gone to him that night. But perhaps you could make up for it now.

‘After you were absent for dinner,’ you wrote to him in your diary, ‘I almost came to your rooms. I was worried for you. Though I confess, that was the only reason I found myself walking toward you… I missed you, at dinner. I missed you helping me into my chair. I missed your smile. I missed the way you’d hold the plates for me. Most of all, I missed your voice, and your presence next to me.’

You sniffled slightly, staring at a lamp on your wall to dry the tears that were forming before finishing the entry, ‘I’ve missed you these past days, as well. But I’m almost done. I’ll see you soon.’

The 30th day in the 5th moon of the year

I have made my gravest sin yet. And my most foolish.

We had the perfect morning together in the gardens. Silent, mostly, but perfect. She smiled at me! She allowed me to lead her through the gardens on my arm. It was… precisely what I had hoped for.

Until I once again acted like an absolute fucking fool.

Before I had to leave for court, I asked if I could come to her rooms that night. And for one perfect moment, I really believed she was going to say yes.

But then she mentioned her moon’s blood, and I just… panicked. I am not entirely an idiot (though I become less sure of that declaration with each passing moment), I know what that means.

It means that I’ve failed her. In even more ways than I knew.

I have made her miserable. I have made her cry. I have failed in every duty of a good husband, including the most basic of tasks – I have not given her a child.

I cannot go on like this – trapped in an endless cycle of misery where I can do nothing but hurt the both of us. I must do something to free us from this.

It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t love or even like me. I just want her to be happy. If that means that I never get to see her or love her again, I will make myself accept that.

First, she needs to know why I’ve acted this way. To know my true feelings so she can decide what she wants me to do. Gods, if she wanted me to go to Essos and never return, I would.

A blot of ink covered half the page, as though he had simply set his pen down while he thought.

I know what to do. I just pray she understands.

“I understand,” you said aloud, as though Aemond were before you. But, of course, he wasn’t. He was halfway across the castle, a distance that suddenly felt like the Narrow Sea itself. Throwing down your blanket, you shouted for your maids to dress you at once, your morning meal be damned. The moment finished tying off the last lace of your gown, you ran.

You had only been shown where Aemond’s chambers were once – on your first tour of the Holdfast. Then, you did not know whether to be disappointed or thankful that they were far from yours. Now, as your nervousness flooded through every part of your body, you hated the distance more than anything.

Each step was an effort, as with every one, your legs felt heavier and heavier, as if they were made of iron. Your blood felt as though it was rushing dangerously fast, carrying with it a marked chill. Despite feeling frozen within, sweat still somehow beaded at your brow. Yet you could not wipe it away, for your hands were all but stitched to the two diaries you carried.

Was this a terrible idea? Would Aemond laugh at you for all your silly little notes? Would he be angry with you for taking days to fulfil his request? You came to a halt in the middle of the corridor, tears prickling in your eyes as you considered so many horrible possibilities.

No, you thought, the word echoed by the impact of your foot on stone as you took a heavy, sure step forward.

The Aemond you thought you knew would do those things. But that Aemond wasn’t real – and never was. He had only ever lived in your terrified imagination.

The real Aemond was the one who had been so awestruck upon first seeing you that he could not say anything other than your name. Who had fallen for you so quickly and with such intensity that he forgot how to act like a proper person and instead stumbled over his words and actions like a drunk man through a crowded alley. Who had been so desperate for you to return his affections that he swallowed his pride to seek help. And who had finally given you his diary when he could think of no other way to show you how he really felt and who he truly was.

It was the thought of finally meeting that Aemond that made you put one foot in front of the other, faster and faster, until you were sprinting down the halls, only stopping when you came to the door you had seen only once before – his door.

You did not understand how you had found it again after only seeing it only once before. Nor did you remember knocking on the smooth, dark wood.

But then you heard footsteps approaching.

Hastily, you transferred the diaries to one hand and wiped the sweat from your brow with the sleeve of the other. You wanted to straighten your hair, for it had surely come loose from its braid after running so fast. But there was no time for that.

There was the dull, metallic sound of the door being unlatched, and then there he was.

Aemond stood before you, breathing heavily himself as though he, too, had been running. His silver hair was mussed, and there were smudges of purple beneath his widened eyes – his eyes.

He was not wearing his eyepatch.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. At least one of the rumours had been true. Beneath the raised, rough skin of his scar, in place of his lost eye, was a brilliant blue sapphire. It suited him perfectly and was perhaps the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He looked at you for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a hesitant smile before realising what had caught your attention so thoroughly.

“Oh gods,” he whispered, covering the sapphire with his hands and turning away. He took a few steps into the room before speaking again. “I did not mean for you to see this. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. Please…”

You said nothing. Silently, you moved into the room and shut the door. Aemond stared at you, his good eye watering as you approached him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. “You should not have had to – ” He startled when you brought your free hand up to his wrist and started trying to tug his hand away from his face. “What are you…?”

When your only response was to continue tugging, he relented, allowing you to lower his hand. He swallowed thickly, fixing his good eye on the wall behind you instead of at you. Seeing his shyness, and now knowing it for what it was, almost made you smile.

But your own shyness took hold of you as you guided his hand down and wrapped it around the spines of the twin journals you held. When you looked back up at Aemond, he was staring at them and the green ribbon that now marked a page within your diary.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, tightening his hold on the books.

With a slight smirk, you gazed up at him and dropped your hand from the diaries. “It’s your turn.”

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thought--bubble · 4 months

Text

Right Place, Wrong Time PT 1/3

Dark Aemond X (Out of World Reader)

Warnings after the cut

(This one is a bit different then my other Aemond one shots due to the request received. This was created from THIS request)

Canon Aemond Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

A/N: i spent forever trying to shorten this so it would be a one-shot but I lost too much of the story and decided to make it two parts, so part two will be posted tomorrow.

Warnings:: Alcohol use, Threats of violence

"I am so drunk." You turn to your best friend Becca and laugh, a big loud laugh that ends in a snort.

"I noticed you're a big sloppy mess," she eyes you up and down. "Can't take you anywhere, it seems," she teases as she pulls you up from your stool at the bar. "Time to go"

"What? Noooooooo!" You whine loudly."I don't wanna gooooooo yet!" You look at her with a drunken pout.

"Rideshare is outside. Come on, we'll go back to your place and chill." She takes you by the forearm, trying to keep you steady as she guides you out of the bar out onto the cold sidewalk.

She helps you get into the rideshare as you fall over yourself, giggling loud and obnoxiously. "Good lord, you lush!" She chuckles as she gets in beside you.

"Not a lush," you murmur under your breath, "just like to have fun is all. You should try it sometime"

The rest of the ride back to your flat is quiet. You rest your head against the door of the car, closing your eyes, the gentle hum of the car nearly lulling you to sleep.

When the car pulls in front of your place, Becca has to practically drag you out of the car and up the steps.

"Come on!" She struggles to hold you."You're not as light as you think you are!"

"Hey! Rude!" You chuckle as you try to stand yourself up straight, fishing your key from your handbag. You attempt to put the key in the lock but keep missing it.

"Give me that!" Becca scowls as she pulls the key from your hand. "You're a bloody menace, you know that, right?"

"I keep things interesting." You wiggle your eyebrows at her as she gets the door open.

"Just get in there and try not to fall." She motions you inside, and you stumble past her, making your way to the sofa.

As you plop down on the sofa, you groan loudly and say, "I'm hungry"

Becca rolls her eyes and heads to the pantry, picking up a pack of graham crackers, your favorite snack.

"MMMm grammys," you wiggle happily in your seat on the sofa as she throws the packet into your lap.

"Put something on," she says as she pours two cups of water from the kitchen.

You reach onto the coffee table to snatch the remote, almost tumbling off.

"I'm putting on the dragon show! But, I'm skipping to the second half. When the sexy guy with the eyepatch comes on"

Becca puts a cup of water in front of you.

"Aemond is a bad guy. You're not supposed to like him, " she laughs at you.

"If they didn't want me to like him, they shouldn't have him looking like that. I don't care what he has done. He's forgiven, and he has full permission to do whatever he wants to me at any time. " You giggle as you settle yourself back into the sofa.

"You're a sicko." Becca gets comfortable laying on the other side of your sofa.

You are barely into the episode when your eyelids get heavy. You fight the feeling of sleep trying to make it to the scene you want to see.

What seems like a quick blink was anything but. You wake up and stretch, rubbing your eyes to take in your surroundings.

You look around the room, yawning, as your brain turns on your eyebrows furrow. This is not your room. You look down at yourself. You are in a chemise under thick, heavy blankets.

"W-w-what the fuck?" You move toward the edge of the bed sliding your feet out and over the edge.

"Good morning lady, you look up and see Becca dressed up like some old time maid.

"Becca, thank God, dude. Where are we?" You stand up and run your hands through your hair.

"My apologies, my Lady, we are at the red keep? You have a morning meal with your betrothed. We need to get you ready for. " she moves toward a wardrobe and shuffles through some old style fancy dresses.

"Betrothed? What are you talking about!" You close your eyes. "Am I asleep right now? Cmon self wake up. " You smack your cheeks as Becca stares at you in concern.

"My lady..... Are you feeling unwell? Should I get the maester?" She walks towards you.

"The fucking what? No, i need an intervention! Clearly, I drink too much. " You pace the room, "Cmon wake up! Wake up!"

Becca moves towards the door. "I will get you some help, my lady"

"No! Don't bring anyone here. I just need to wake up!"

"My lady, I need to get you ready for morning meal." She shifts uneasily from foot to foot.

"Oh no. Nope. Not having some imaginary breakfast with some imaginary betrothed person in my fucking head" you look up toward the ceiling and laugh "I've lost the fucking plot"

"My lady, Prince Aemond, would be most displeased if you did not arrive as arranged"

Your head snaps down, "Umm, wait. Did you just say Prince Aemond? As in... pale hair? Eyepatch? Slutty waist? Extreme sexiness?"

Becca's cheeks turn a bright crimson. "Prince Aemond Targaryen, my lady. Your betrothed"

"Right. Well.... I mean. . This is a dream, right? No harm in sleeping a little longer, yeah, ok, dress me up!" You smile widely and hold out your arms.

Becca nods and gets to work, putting on layer after layer of skirts and undershirts and whatever else these old-time dresses require. She does your hair in a pretty braid that she wraps around your head.

Once she is finished, she smiles and tells you how wonderful you look.

"Ok, so where am I going?" You look at her expectantly.

"The dowager queen's chambers?" It's obvious that she is confused that you don't know this already.

"Right. Obviously, " you chuckle. "And uh. Someone will walk me there? I mean, I'm a lady and all that stuff?"

Becca tilts her head to the side as she goes to speak, but then stops herself. "Yes, Sir, Simon is just outside he shall accompany you "

You smile wide and rub your hands together. "Alright, then I'm off before I wake up!" You chuckle and walk quickly out the door to find a knight waiting for you.

"Lead the way, Sir. Knightington!" You lean forward hands behind your back.

"My lady, I am Sir. Allen Simon"

"Yeah, ok, cool. Let's go see the prince of hotness. " You wave your hand, gesturing for him to start walking .

The very confused knight nods and leads you through the halls of the old castle as you smile like a goofball walking behind him.

He stops in front of an old wooden door and knocks. A maid just like Becca opens the door and gestures you in while, sir. Simon stands by the door.

As you enter the room, your excitement peaks when you see Aemond and Alicent sitting at a small table with tea and foods set upon it.

You bring your hands to your face and squeal like a school girl. " ahhhh, best dream ever!"

They both look at you wide-eyed.

"I'm sorry dear, is everything alright?" Alicent tries not to be too obvious with the fact that she is secretly judging you while Aemond actually looks quite amused.

"Oh yes. Yep. All good here. " You sit at the table and unabashedly stare at Aemond.

"We were hoping to discuss the wedding." Alicent starts.

"That today? I'm hoping to get to that whole wedding night thing." You keep staring at Aemond. Who desperately holds back a laugh.

"Oh!" Alicent is shocked by your statement but quickly recovers. "No, my dear, it is still a few moons away"

"Ugh!" You grumble, annoyed.

The rest of the meeting Alicent goes over different things for the wedding. You just nod and agree with whatever she says while keeping your eyes on Aemond.

Aemond tries to listen to his mother but regularly turns back toward you to see you staring at him every time.

After breakfast, you are taken back to your chambers.

You sit in the room and stare at the door. "What kind of dream is this!" You sigh in frustration. "He should have come and fucked me senseless by now... this dream sucks"

You move towards the bed and lay down thinking if you go to sleep in your dream, you will wake back up.

When you wake from your nap, you look around. You can see that it has gotten dark, but you are still in the castle.

"When the fuck am I gonna wake up?"

You end up asking yourself this repeatedly when every night for the last five nights you go to sleep only to wake up back in the castle.

On the morning of the sixth day, you sit in the garden, your head in your hands. You are fully panicking. Are you in a coma?

"You look distressed, my Lady." Aemond sits down next to you. "Has someone caused you discomfort?"

"No. I'm not supposed to be here, but I'm stuck here. " Your eyes start to water, and tears trail down your cheeks.

"It may feel that way, I would assume most women feel like that when they join a new family and leave their own. Just know I plan to make sure your every need is met"

"No. I mean, I'm not supposed to be here. " You gesture your hands around wildly."Dragons aren't real, purple eyed, sexy one-eyed princes aren't either. I was poisoned or drugged or something, and now I am stuck in my head. " You put your face in your hands and start to cry.

Aemond is shocked and sits next to you silently. "I'm sorry my Lady. I seem to be having trouble understanding what you mean?"

"Dude, you" you wave him up and down "are from a TV show based on a book series. You are not real. you're in my head, and I think i'm dying because I can't get out of it"

"I can assure you I am, in fact, very real." He lifts your hand and places it over his heart. "Do you feel that?"

"Yes.... but I am imagining it. I lived an entire life. with electricity, cars, and cellphones, " you sigh. "No, either I'm in my head, or I somehow drank myself into an alternate dimension."

Aemond's skin prickles at this statement.

"I know..... someone... who may have the answers you seek"

You quickly snatch his hand and pull him up. "Ok, let's go." As you start to tug him, he tugs back.

"We are not going to see them now. I will come to you when the time is right. " His face is pensive, and his jaw taught.

"What? I can't wait anymore!" You tug him again.

He yanks his arm from you. "Stop it. You are acting like a child"

"So, bring me to your mystery friend and get my ass sent back to a world with heating and indoor plumbing, and you won't have to marry me anymore." You smile at him cheekily.

He clicks his tongue and looks you up and down. "Very well, I will bring you to her, but it will be on my terms." He swiftly walks away from you, his long hair swaying from side to side.

You feel incredibly relieved when only a few days later, in the dead of night, Aemond returns to you sliding into your room. You shoot up in the bed, looking around frightfully as your eyes adjust to the darkness.

"My lady?" He whispers as he enters the bedchamber with a hooded shawl hanging over his arm.

"Jeeze, you scared the shit outta me." You hop out of the bed in just your chemise.

He drags his eyes down your entire body to your toes and back up again.

"See, now you got me thinking this is a dream again." You chuckle.

He clears his throat. "Get dressed, and put this on." He hands you the shawl. You take it and quickly throw it over your shoulders.

"You... should put a dress on" he stammers.

"Right." You take the shawl off and go to the wardrobe. " I don't know how to put one of these dresses on by myself!"

He huffs and walks towards the wardrobe and pulls out a basic dress.

"It couldn't possibly be that difficult to figure out." He helps you into the dress, his hands touching your body as he does so.

He laces up the back of the dress, pulling you so close to him that you can feel his breath on the back of your neck.

He stands there for a minute with his hands sliding up and down the laces on your back as you hold your breath. Before he suddenly pulls away.

"Let us go quickly." He picks the shawl back up and places it over your head and shoulders. When you turn around towards him, he ties the shawl closed, looking directly into your eyes.

He moves his face close to yours and breathes in deeply before pulling back again.

"Follow me closely." He moves toward the wall in the back of your chamber and pushes it open.

"Oh, cool!" You nearly shout as he whips his head around back at you.

"Would you like us to be caught?" he asks, annoyed.

"Sorry." You cover your mouth quickly.

As you enter into the passage way following behind him, you whisper under your breath. "This is really cool, though," as you look around.

He makes a noise that you think is a chuckle, but you aren't sure.

You follow Aemond through the passageways and out down towards a smelly little town.

"This place is nice"

"No. It is disgusting. " He replies, Your sarcasm clearly goes over his head.

He leads you through the quiet streets in the dark until you come across a little hovel like house. He quietly knocks on the door as he looks side to side.

A very beautiful older woman opens the door.

"I was waiting for you." She moves to the side, allowing you both to enter.

Once you both enter, she closes the door behind her.

"This is her?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"Hmmm," he replies.

"Let me see your hand, child." She holds her hand out to you, and you place yours in hers. She closes her eyes and hums quietly.

"Yes, Aemond." She opens her eyes and looks at him. "You were right. The spell worked. When we sent Rhaenyra away, we pulled this girl in. There must always be a balance."

"We need to find a way to send her back," He says curtly.

"We agreed that whomever was pulled here in her place would be dealt with....." The woman says gently, holding your hand tight.

Fear prickles up the back of your neck.

"No. Not her. Send her back. Whomever comes in her place will be dealt with, but she goes back. Set up the spell again."

"I do not have everything necessary... " The woman starts.

"Alys! I said she goes back. Get what you need and then send for me. I will have her at the keep until then. " He takes you tightly by the arm and drags you back out of the hovel.

When you get outside, you pull your arm out of his grasp. "You! You brought me here?" You back away from him.

"Quiet your mouth." He snaps at you. "All will be explained once we are back at the keep now move." He reaches to grasp your arm again, but you pull it out of his reach.

"No. No way! dude, you dragged me into a different reality! This, This is insane!!" You start to hyperventilate.

"Enough!" He takes your chin tightly in his hand. "I could end this problem easily but have, against my better judgment, decided to take pity on you and simply send you back to where it is you came from." He calms himself slightly, letting go of your face but quickly taking hold of your arm.

"I would suggest, you do as I say in an effort to preserve what little patience it is that I have left"

You gulp loudly and nod your head, allowing him to lead you back toward the tunnels and back up into the keep.

"It shouldn't be too long." He pulls you up next to him as he lets go of your arm and reaches up to gently cup your cheek.

"You can trust me"

Part 2

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206 notes · View notes

neptuneiris · 8 months

Text

sparks (02/04)

And I know, I was wrong But I won't let you down

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 8.8k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

IT'S HERE! MY GOD-i'm so excited for you to read this, I'm really enjoying writing this fic so much and your comments and opinions make me very happy, and I'll be waiting anxiously to answer them:)

I also want to thank you for the incredible support for the first part, it was simply amazing! thank you for reading, commenting and reblogging, it means a lot to me beautiful people❤

now i won't stop you anymore, enjoy and wait anxiously for the next part!

As the sun slowly sets on the horizon, you and Aemond arrive at the majestic event venue of one of the most luxurious hotels in the city.

You are both dressed elegantly, he in an impeccable black suit and you in a stunning metallic ocean blue dress, the same color of the sapphire that Aemond wears in his empty socket and also his favorite color.

You have always waited for the ideal moment to wear this color of dress and match perfectly with Aemond, knowing too well and so does he that this night is very important.

The whole street and around has the passage completely obstructed for outsiders, there are police cars guarding the whole area along with security guards to allow the entrance to the hall of the huge hotel where the whole event will happen to the people who have been required.

You along with Aemond are allowed to pass through easily, while you watch through the window as all the press goes crazy and take pictures of absolutely everything, especially the car, as they know that inside is the Heir to Targaryen Inc.

There are a lot of cameras, a lot of light and above all a lot of people.

You feel how Aemond's hand gently squeezes yours, bringing his body a little closer towards yours, observing everything just like you and feeling perfectly how anxiety starts to run through his body, as well as he starts to feel a knot in his stomach.

The magnitude of the event and the amount of people gathered there started to make him feel nervous even though he has attended these events before.

But especially now he feels that way because he knows that all eyes will be on him now that he is his father's Heir.

He knows he hasn't even gotten out of the car and he's already the center of attention, so he imagines what a disaster it will be by the time he's finally in full view of all the photographers.

You immediately notice the change in his facial expression and gently stroke his arm with your free hand, comforting him, watching him with understanding and giving him all the support you can, letting him know that this is what you are here for and that he is not alone.

Aemond feels a little more reassured to feel your touch and closeness, feeling lucky to have you by his side at this crucial important moment in his life's work.

He doesn't even understand how he had thought of coming here earlier by himself, without you. He doesn't know what he would have done.

However, good times can't last forever.

Confused you watch through the car windows as Criston continues to drive slowly along, passing the main entrance to the hall where all the businessmen and also women with their companions have their pictures and videos taken.

Thing you've done with Aemond before but… now it looks like that won't be the case.

"Where are we going?"

"Love, I need you to do this for me."

You ask him watching him with your frown, to which Aemond looks nervous, anguished and sorrowful, holding his hand more firmly with yours.

Then you watch how Cole parks at another entrance on the other side of the hotel…. where there is absolutely no one, just security guards.

He starts to say to you as he gets fully incorporated in the seat, leaning towards you, not letting go of your hand and speaking to you in a rushed tone out of nerves, as you turn your gaze to him confused.

"I need you to go through that door, Hel should already be waiting for you. I'll meet you in there, okay?"

His words definitely throw you off, watching him with great attention and slight surprise.

"Why?"

He stirs in his seat as he sees the confusion in your eyes, also as little by little sadness begins to creep in, feeling more anguished than before but having to ask this of you, even though he doesn't agree.

"It will only be for this moment, I promise. Once we meet in there, we'll be together."

"But why don't you want me to come in together with you?"

He lets out a long breath, starting to worry.

And despite his explanation, you can't help but feel sad and annoyed as you watch him still intently with your brows furrowed, not saying or doing anything for a few seconds, the realization becoming clearer.

"It's not that I don't want love, it's just that my grandsire has asked to take pictures of us with Rivers and his uncle."

He explains to you with a sad look.

"And I don't want them to take pictures of you standing apart and start publishing them in magazines talking things about you. At least there's no one here and it will be safer."

"Sir, we have to go now. They're waiting for you."

Cole alerts him from the pilot's seat, watching you in the rearview mirror, and Aemond again watches you, insistent and concerned.

"Love, please," he murmurs to you under his breath.

You avoid looking him in the eye as you now resignedly let go of his hands almost abruptly and coldly and then grab your handbag and begin to quickly exit the car.

You lower your gaze as you press your lips together, feeling the discomfort coursing through your body, trying to control your true emotions, but you can't.

You definitely didn't expect this.

Aemond lets out a long breath.

"Please don't be angry, love."

He tells you pleading and sad, but you don't look at him or say anything to him, you just get out of the car and close the door to quickly head to the huge door with a lump in your throat and with a sharp pain in your chest.

You truly understand the importance of this event for him and the company, you were the one who insisted on coming too, but you definitely didn't deserve this, to be hidden away as if you were an intruder and didn't belong here.

And Aemond at all times is not calm and has barely started the night.

Once he gets out of the car, as you also enter the hall where the whole event will be held, inside and outside the bustle of the crowd and conversations fill the air.

He meets his grandsire, Alys Rivers and Larys Strong, while you meet Helaena.

You also see other family members of Aemond that you also know, like his half-sister Rhaenyra and his uncle Daemon Targaryen, also his nephews and cousins, his mother and his brothers, Aegon and Daeron.

Even Helaena didn't know she would be so busy, apologizing to you for how little time you have to catch up, but you assure her that all is well, when the truth is not.

You thought that with them everything would be easier to get along with, like before, especially after what just happened, since you always got along well with his family.

But this event is too important since the Targaryens are the center of attention and everyone is busy, even the cousins and nephews.

The whole place is absolutely grand and elegant, the whole atmosphere has an aura of prestige and sophistication like all the people present.

The room has tall, wide windows that offer breathtaking views of the city, illuminated by the night lights, as the hotel is located in the upper suburbs.

At one end of the hall there is a raised stage where presentations and speeches will take place, there is also sound and projection equipment, also an area for the press. But for the moment, there is a group of musicians.

Silk tapestries add touches of warmth and luxury throughout, as well as large crystal chandeliers hang from the high vaulted ceiling, casting flashes of light.

There are tables carefully decorated with white linen tablecloths, as well as comfortable and elegant chairs with high backs.

Finally there is the luxurious bar, where drinks are free and there are two male bar tenders at disposal.

You head there, wanting to have a drink to calm your spirits, unconsciously waiting for Aemond, being here alone and not feeling… not at all well.

There are already a considerable number of people entering the hall, all the businessmen with their wives, sons and daughters, also their assistants, while you watch as all the Targaryen greet everyone and are cordial with elegance in their clothes, postures and out-of-this-world appearance.

While you stand apart, sipping your glass of wine, observing everything. Then you take your phone from your bag to entertain yourself for a moment, when then, Aemond appears.

But not alone, but with Alys Rivers.

This doesn't bother you, on the contrary, Aemond was completely honest with you telling you that they wanted to take pictures of the two of them and that's what happens, while you see him with his serious and cold face standing at the entrance with her and then a small part of the press inside the room taking more pictures of them.

But that's not what catches your attention or what bothers you, what does is that this woman is wearing a dress the same color as yours.

You hide your surprise very well while at the same time a mixture of emotions completely overwhelms your inner self, watching how she poses and smiles with such elegance towards the cameras next to him, completely pleased.

It seems that she is his companion, not you.

Compared to your dress, hers is completely fitted to her body and reaches above her knees, wearing black high heels, with her hair pulled back in an elegant bun with black locks falling on either side of her face.

While yours is completely long and a little looser without straps, wearing silver high heels with your hair completely loose styled in slight waves. (click here)

Normally the color of the dress wouldn't have mattered to you, but you see the way she poses and behaves with him in front of the press, while those people with their cameras ask them for more and look pleased too, asking them to be closer to each other.

It really looks like she is his escort, totally overshadowing you.

At that moment, your self-confidence fades and discomfort comes over you, also annoyance. You try to keep your composure but the tension all over your body is too much, instantly looking away from them and feeling an incredible urge to cry.

It's just a dress, don't overreact.

You tell yourself, saying you shouldn't react, not here, not now knowing that this is important to Aemond and his family, that you are really his companion, not her and that eventually everyone will see that.

But you can't help it… you feel humiliated.

You take a huge gulp from your wine glass, averting your gaze from everything and everyone, focusing on the city lights through the large windows, enduring more of the urge to cry and let out everything you're feeling.

Though clearly Aemond doesn't have a hard time finding you all over the hall.

"Hey."

You hear him approach and he gently takes your arm and turns you towards him, watching you with full attention, while you take the last sip of your glass of wine, watching him afterwards without emotion.

"Hey."

You look away and call the bar tender, asking him to refill your drink, still feeling the discomfort all over your body as Aemond knows perfectly well how you must be feeling.

And he watches you hopefully, wanting you to say something, anything, even giving you his full attention, wanting to be with you and only you after such a stressful and unnecessary entrance to this boring event.

But nothing. You don't say or do anything to him.

"Love, I'm so sorry," he tells you honest and sad.

Again you say nothing to him, acting completely unconcerned, your face neutral and emotionless.

"Seriously, about before I didn't want to do it but my grandsire insisted and she…" he pauses, letting out a long breath as he runs a hand over his face, "I'm sorry. If I had known I would have—

"Don't worry about it."

You interrupt him, not wanting to talk about it anymore, certainly because you don't want to ruin his night any more and you don't want to stress him out any more when he must be getting enough to do and take care of tonight.

But he insists.

"I know you're upset and—

"I know perfectly well when you're lying to me."

"I'm not upset."

"I'm not upset. I haven't even said anything."

You tell him still watching him emotionlessly, clearly wanting to make yourself look as believable as possible with your words. Then at that moment the bar tender hands you your glass of wine and you begin to drink, going back to watching everyone.

But Aemond continues to watch you intently, concerned.

"Then say something, anything, please."

And that's when you start to react, starting to get annoyed with his attitude.

"And what do you want me to say?" you snap at him quietly, "I told you I'm not upset."

'At least not with you, just with the situation,' that's what you really want to say.

But you stay quiet, wanting to end the conversation once and for all, as you tried to do from the beginning but he keeps insisting.

"I don't know Y/N, just tell me something, whatever you want, but make it true," he also whispers quietly, moving closer to you to create more privacy between the two of you in public.

"Y/N! There you are, my dear!"

And before you can say anything back to him, at that moment a third voice interrupts the small discussion as it approaches towards both of you.

Alicent Hightower exclaims with a huge charming smile, sporting a beautiful emerald green dress and extravagant hairstyle, instantly enclosing you in a gentle but firm embrace which you reciprocate, now putting on your best face.

"Ah finally I see you after so long," she says lovingly in your ear, "I'm so sorry we couldn't talk when you arrived, as you can see we're all busy and it's crazy, like every time. But I'm so happy to see you."

She tells you as she pulls away from you and continues to watch you with her soft, comforting smile.

"Don't worry, I totally understand," you assure her with a small smile, "You look beautiful."

"Oh! Thank you," she observes to herself, still smiling, "You too my dear, absolutely beautiful."

You widen your smile a little more, for a moment feeling embarrassed since also a certain woman is wearing the same color as you, but you quickly push that thought away.

"Thank you so much."

"Come," she says to both of you, without letting go of your hand, "Rhaenyra has told me she wants to greet you, so does Daeron, before it all begins."

And this is what puts the discussion you were having with Aemond to a complete pause.

He follows you instantly, while you soon greet his half-sister and nephews, starting to catch up with all of them, also his cousins, Baela and Rhaena, who have always been absolutely charming and fun with you.

You also greet Aegon, who comes accompanied by his girlfriend, Cassandra Baratheon, where you know they are only dating because of an arrangement between his grandsire and her father, as the Baratheons also own an important company and thanks to their relationship, the two companies have partnered up.

You then talk to Daeron, who tells you that he is about to enter college along with Luke, his nephew, and then a very animated and happy Helaena joins in the conversation, the two of them making you totally forget everything that happened as soon as you and Aemond arrived at the hotel.

In fact when you and Helaena talk alone again, she mentions to you quietly that everyone knows what her grandsire is trying to do with Aemond and Alys Rivers, telling you right away that she doesn't agree nor does anyone else for that matter, only him.

She also tells you not to be intimidated by him, much less by that woman by briefly mentioning about the dress since of course she has noticed and assures you that you are not alone in any of this.

You are quite relieved and comforted by this, as you had given up hope the moment you saw Alys so pleased at Aemond's side, but now hearing this… it really makes you feel very relieved.

Then the whole event begins.

You take a seat next to Aemond at one of the tables that are right in front of the stage along with his entire family, as well as the other guests, while Otto Hightower takes the microphone and gives a brief welcome.

Aemond next to you takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, wanting to feel your touch despite what happened a few moments ago between the two of you and you leave him, where neither of you say anything.

Then businessmen begin to take the stage, each speaking on key topics in the banking industry, such as financial regulation, investments, digital banking, risk management, fintech technology and more.

These presentations are given by industry experts and thought leaders, including Otto Hightower and Larys Strong, the uncle of Alys Rivers.

Even Helaena takes the stage to talk about new acquisitions in Highgarden's company, also Daemon with Rhaenyra Targaryen.

They also offer the opportunity to pitch projects or seek investments related to banking, they also talk about acquisitions, mergers or strategic collaborations.

They also again talk about financial technology.

When it then comes time for all the businessmen to focus on establishing relationships that can lead to business opportunities, collaborations and alliances with other businessmen.

Aemond tells you that he will be back in a moment, telling you briefly that he will speak with Rodrik Greyjoy, also an important businessman who is the head of the Pike company, the most important company in the Iron Islands.

You just nod and he leaves, then you think you might talk to Hel or Daeron, even Jace or Baela for the moment, but as you watch them, the entire Targaryen family is again busy talking to different men with their wives and children.

You let out a long breath and stand there alone for a few moments observing everything around you, then decide to approach the bar again and order a glass of wine, which is what you usually always drink when you feel uneasy and anxious.

And standing with your glass again you observe everything, focusing on Aemond for a moment, watching him talking to Greyjoy, both a bit more apart from all the people and looking both very serious and professional with what they must be talking about.

You don't know how long you last like that, just standing there and nothing else, not really doing anything, just asking the bar tender to refill your glass every so often, making sure to always drink small amounts of your wine.

When then you notice it.

Being alone in a secluded corner of the huge hall, you see how two women a few meters away from you in long and more than elegant dresses, wearing valuable jewelry and with a look of superiority and also a little mocking, watching you.

This confuses you and catches your attention at the same time, watching out of the corner of your eye as both watch you from head to toe and talk quietly among themselves without disguise, you not understanding anything.

You observe yourself, wondering if there is something out of place in your appearance, since appearance is what matters most in events like these, but everything is still fine with you, so you do not understand what it is that draws their attention to you.

However, in the face of this you again feel your nerves coming and your confidence fading, feeling uncomfortable, out of place and with anxiety all over your body.

You turn around, leaning your elbows on the counter as you bite your lips and try to calm yourself, feeling that suddenly all eyes are on you, not understanding what is wrong with you.

When a voice speaks in your direction.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Y/N."

You leave your drink on the bar and turn around, coming face to face with Otto Hightower, who is also wearing a smart suit and has a serious, cold look on his face that shows unconformity in your direction.

And you have no idea what to say to him.

How is he surprised to see you here if you've come to these events before with Aemond?

"It's not what you wanted, I guess," you tell him with a certain bitter and serious tone, speaking to him in the same way he is speaking to you.

He bites the inside of his cheek, then settles next to you with an appropriate distance, calling the bar tender and asking for a glass of white wine, while you watch him intently throughout.

"No, of course it's not what I wanted and I'm relieved that at least you understand that," he finally tells you, serious and direct, "I told Aemond perfectly well that he shouldn't have brought you, but he's just as stubborn as his brother."

You bite your lips, avoiding speaking to him in a ruder tone than you should and also avoiding saying what you really want so as not to cause real trouble, with annoyance starting to course through your body.

"I'm his girlfriend," you tell him seriously and in a reminder tone.

"And this is work," he replies in kind, "And serious work. Something you wouldn't understand from working in a coffee shop."

You let out a snort.

"Are you trying to put me down?" you stare at him incredulously.

"I'm just being honest and seeing things as they really are," he says and doesn't give you a chance to speak, "My grandson is a successful man, just like his family. And he should surround himself with people just like him. Believe me I have made sure he is where he is now and I care deeply about his future," he says with a condescending tone, "Don't you?"

"Of course I do," you tell him instantly, "I've done nothing but support him."

He gives a fake smile.

"That's good to hear, exactly what I would expect from you, but I want you to understand one thing and I want you to get it right, Y/N."

He begins to tell you with his eyes never ceasing to look directly into yours, glowing with a cold and more than willing determination, his posture demanding power over you, making you feel small as you continue to watch him intently.

"You don't belong in this world," he tells you menacingly, "I've tolerated this nonsense from you and him long enough, but now that he is his father's successor and is in a higher position and with a promising future, I won't tolerate it anymore," he makes it clear to you, "You can't really offer anything important to Aemond and that's what we need, assurance and alliances for the good of the company."

He tells you in the cruelest tone of all, where even though you try to remain calm, you begin to feel insecure and lose your composure as you listen intently, feeling a sharp pain in your chest.

"And that's exactly what Alys Rivers can offer him."

Then your shoulders drop, your whole posture ceases to feel tense from the defeat invading you and you feel a deep ache all through you, feeling utterly small, helpless and vulnerable.

You lower your gaze with your lips parted, trying to control all your emotions as you feel your eyes glaze over and you feel a painful lump in your throat, not wanting to cry now in this place with him continuing to watch you intently.

Then you press your lips together in an expression of anguish and humiliation, unable to help yourself.

"Our family has built a reputation and that's the most important thing to us. And you don't fit in, you're just not of use, now do you understand what I mean?" he tells you expectantly.

But despite how he is making you feel, you try to defend yourself.

"Is money and reputation really more important to you? Don't you care about his happiness?"

"Aemond is not going to live on love, silly girl, neither the company," he tells you instantly annoyed, "So I hope that for the sake of him and his work, you will be the one to decide to end the relationship since he certainly won't," he tells you bitterly, "Alys Rivers is starting to lose patience and there is no way I am going to lose the opportunity of association with her company, have you understood?"

You watch him without saying anything, still with your sad look and also with the surprise to see his determination, the how he really doesn't care about Aemond's feelings, while he throws you his hateful look and continues to watch you more than threatening.

When then the sound of the microphone catches everyone's attention, also yours and his, watching the stage.

"Hum… excuse me? May I have your attention for a moment, ladies and gentlemen, please?"

Alys Rivers speaks, starting to get the attention of all the people who stop talking and focus on her, while you still feel all your overwhelming emotions.

"Good evening everyone, it's a pleasure to be here present with all of you," she smiles elegantly to the whole audience, clasping her hands together in front of her, "For those who don't know me, I introduced myself, I'm Alys Rivers, co-owner of the Riverlands company, nice to meet you."

She says as she radiates confidence and determination, reflecting her commitment and enthusiasm, as you watch the business wives smile at her throughout.

"I would like to take this moment to announce a very early association that I am still working on together with my company partner, Larys Strong," she says without stopping smiling at any moment, looking very happy and excited "So I would like to call to the stage my very soon to be partner, Mr. Aemond Targaryen."

Thunderous applause from all present can be heard throughout the hall, while you watch as Aemond smiles politely throughout as he walks up to the stage and makes his way to stand next to her, who also claps in his direction and watches him proudly.

And so together they appear confident and authoritative, as if they own the whole place, while Aemond waves and thanks the whole audience at the same time.

Then the applause fades and Alys speaks again.

"It is also an honor to announce before all of you, a collaboration of our two companies," she says proudly, "Since I first met Aemond, his vision and ethics impressed me deeply. We have shared many conversations and have discovered that our companies have common goals and values."

Aemond at her side nods in approval and continues.

"Our companies, Riverlands Group and Targaryen Incorporation have been at the forefront of financial innovation for years. So we have decided to join forces to empower our organizations."

Then Alys says something else, but you don't pay attention as Otto Hightower again speaks in your direction.

"Now you see?"

He says to you and you again feel that sharp pain in your chest as you turn your gaze to Alys and Aemond.

"That's the way things should be, the two of them together, a perfect complementation," he says confidently, "Even all the people here are pleased to see them together, the press too, that's what they expect, not a coffee shop employee next to the next head of the most important company in the country."

Each of his words and also the ones from before are like a dagger to your heart, feeling sadness, shame, humiliation and anguish.

The feeling is horrible, especially because you see how again all the people applaud for the two of them and the press starts taking pictures of the two of them together, while you feel trapped in a whirlwind of negative emotions that consumes you completely.

You watch as Aemond doesn't approach her at all, but she does, placing one of her hands on his arm, smiling and posing for the cameras, while you watch as Aemond tries to subtly pull away from her, but she won't let him.

You also know he won't say anything to her at that moment, not when the eyes of everyone in the place are on them and so are the cameras, so they continue to pose for more pictures to be taken.

"Enjoy the rest of the night."

Otto tells you with the fakest look and words of all, watching you for one last time then turning away from you and back to the crowd, complacently watching the show his grandson is putting on along with Alys Rivers.

And when you watch him walk away, at that moment you notice it again, the stares of the women.

This time you see how they and their husbands look in your direction, with curious looks and others with equally mocking looks, whispering among themselves, all of them watching you from head to toe, making you feel even worse.

They make you feel as if you are an intruder, as if you are the one who is wrong to be here, as if you are not Aemond's girlfriend and instead they accept Alys, looking at you as the bad guy, even with pity.

Then you feel you can't take it anymore and decide you've had enough.

Completely humiliated, you turn away from the bar and start looking all over the place for Cole, who you find at the main entrance along with more security guards, heading towards him quickly.

"Ms. Y/N?"

He says to you as you stand in front of him.

"Can you take me home?" you ask or rather plead, "I'm not feeling well."

"Do you need me to get you something?" he asks you instantly, willing.

"No, just take me home, please."

"Of course but Mr. Targaryen knows?"

"Yes," you lie, "You'll have to come back to pick him up."

Finally you convince him and both of you go to the door where you entered instead of the main door since the press is still outside.

And not having the courage or the spirit to say goodbye to anyone, not even Helaena, you finally leave the place.

Meanwhile Aemond continues taking pictures and enduring the flash of the cameras every second, slyly taking Rivers' hands off him, acting unconcerned and willing when inside he wants it all to be over.

When in the middle of all the commotion, he catches a perfect glimpse of your figure walking out of the event through the doors he asked you to enter with Cole by your side, without even looking back, this catching his attention and confusing him instantly.

He is about to apologize to quickly go after you, not liking that at all, feeling a bad feeling, starting to worry, but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"They want to take pictures of the whole family together."

He turns his head and finds his grandfather, whom he instantly watches attentively and curiously.

He watches all the people around him for a moment as everything is a mess as everyone wants to take pictures and videos, but in the end he leans over to talk to him, trying to create privacy.

"Why did Y/N leave?"

"She leave?" he repeats acting surprised and confused, "I don't know, son. I didn't even notice. Now come on."

"I saw you talking to her," he tells him instantly, insistent.

"We didn't really talk much, now come on, this is important."

He tells him also serious and insistent, making him stand still for the press to start taking pictures of the two of them with Alys Rivers and Larys Strong, then the whole Targaryen family and so on with other businessmen.

But all the time Aemond is not calm, not at all.

Until after a while he sees Cole re-enter the hall, so he quickly makes his way towards him.

"Where is Y/N?" he asks him with bewilderment in his eyes and in his tone of voice, concerned.

Cole frowns.

"Sir, she said she was feeling sick and wanted me to take her home."

"And why didn't you tell me?" he snaps at him instantly, slightly annoyed.

"I'm sorry Sir, but she said you knew."

And at that moment Aemond knows that's definitely not good.

He lets out a long breath and runs a hand over his face, beginning to feel frustrated, only to have his mother walk over to him at that moment and take him with her to have a conversation with the Arryn's, reluctantly having to stay, feeling uneasy every moment as he wants this all to be over so he can come to you.

But the night is far from over.

And it is not until two hours later that people begin to say goodbye to leave, so Aemond takes advantage and also decides to leave, since he sent you severe messages at certain times but you did not respond to any, this stressing him and worrying him more.

So once he is able to leave, he quickly together with Cole start to leave the hall, but Eleonor hurriedly stops him.

"I'm sorry Sir, but aren't you supposed to stay? Here I have the card for the suite you asked me to book," she raises the card in her hand, looking at him confused.

Aemond feels a sharp pain in his chest, not having the slightest idea what happened with you as to decide to leave without telling him anything, but he knows it's no good, besides the fact that his grandfather's attitude seemed suspicious to him.

And he can't help but feel annoyed.

He knows you haven't spent any time together and he thought it would be a good idea to book a suite for the two of you without telling you anything, wanting it to be a surprise, but now it's all ruined and he doesn't even know why.

"No, Y/N is gone," he tells her with frustration visible all over his body and gaze, "You use it or cancel it or whatever, it doesn't matter anymore."

And without further ado he resumes his walk, wanting to get to you as soon as possible.

You hate the loneliness in which you find yourself.

When you get to the apartment, you want to leave immediately, thinking for a moment that you should have asked Cole to drop you off at Floris or Sarah's house.

You put on your sleeping clothes and take your pillow and a sheet to go back to the living room and get comfortable on the huge couch, wanting to sleep and forget about everything.

In fact that's what you think now, maybe call one of them and ask them to pick you up. But the hour is already late and you don't want to bother them.

So the only thing you do is to take off your make-up and your dress where at all times you still feel the discomfort and humiliation running through your whole body, feeling also a helplessness.

But unfortunately that's not what happens.

What happens is that you can no longer control all the feelings and emotions you felt since Aemond asked you to enter the event through other doors and you finally let it all out, starting to cry silently even though you are alone.

You don't know how long you last like that but you cry until you fall asleep, hugging one of the couch cushions tightly in the darkness of the huge apartment.

Some time later Aemond finally arrives home, so in a hurry he rushes into the apartment with all his anguished and worried look on his face, wanting to see you and talk to you, heading purposefully into the bedroom.

But he definitely didn't expect to find you asleep on the living room couch.

Never before have either of you had the need and desire to sleep apart, not even after having a fight, so surprise comes over him and he watches you sound asleep there… on the couch instead of the bed.

He doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what has happened, and doesn't know what to think.

He understands that you were very upset with him for what he asked you to do so that is one reason, also Rivers' colored dress, but what happened next?

He doesn't know and he's very frustrated that he doesn't know, he's also frustrated by the whole situation.

And he can't stand it. He can't stand seeing you lying there asleep, not wanting to sleep with him.

He takes off his jacket without taking his eye off you at all times, leaving it on the back of the single couch and carefully walks over to you, where again his heart breaks at the sight of the dried tears on your cheeks and also the cushion you are hugging wetly.

Immediately he feels guilty, so gently, he kneels beside you and watches you for a few seconds sadly, asleep in a ball, with an expression of exhaustion on your face.

You blink then carve your eyes, getting used to the night light to try to see, when Aemond's cologne hits your nostrils and you look up at him over your face with a confused expression.

He swallows hard and leans over you to hold you in his arms gently and carry you to bed without waking you. He puts one arm under your knees and the other under your back, trying to lift you gently.

But because of the movement and also from feeling his hands on your body, you wake up.

"What are you doing?" you ask him sleepily.

"I'm putting you to bed, love."

You frown and immediately place your whole body hard and tense, removing his hands from your body.

"No, I want to stay here."

He lets out a long breath.

"Come on, let's go to bed."

"No."

"Love, please."

"I already told you no, Aemond."

You tell him in a more serious and completely annoyed tone, as he watches sadly and worriedly as you make your intention clear and again cover yourself with the sheet, turning your back on him with your annoyed expression.

He feels more the anguish of being this way with you, the feelings of frustration and loneliness taking hold of him, feeling helpless in the face of the situation.

He misses you completely, your closeness, mutual support and communication, because this just makes everything even worse, not being able to work things out, you leaving his side, having this physical and emotional distance.

Aemond feels like the person he loves is slipping through his fingers and there is nothing he can do to stop it.

"Y/N please," he insists once again, hating the situation and the feelings it brings, "Let's go to bed, you know I won't be able to fall asleep without you by my side."

"Let me sleep," you tell him seriously and curtly, still turning your back to him.

"Love."

Aemond calls you one last time, feeling the negative emotions invade him even more at that moment, feeling hopeless, but he stops when he sees that you are firm with your decision and he can't do anything about it, feeling more constant the sharp pain in his chest.

And so you ignore him, trying to go back to sleep.

So Aemond has no choice but to heartbrokenly retreat to the bedroom and leave you alone in the living room.

The next morning, the horrible sound of your alarm wakes you up, telling you that you have to get ready for work.

Not having slept enough the night before and remembering everything that happened, you're annoyed and defeated as you lie there for a few minutes staring at the ceiling, not having the energy for anything at all.

But knowing that you can't afford to miss work, you have no choice but to get up.

However, it strikes you that the coffee pot in the kitchen is not on, because even though Aemond has the day off, he still locks himself in his office to get a lot of his work done, and coffee is essential for him to be more productive.

So curious and cautious, you head to the room, seeing that the door is open.

And when you slowly peek your head out, you see Aemond on the edge of the bed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, looking in a tired state and as if he hadn't slept all night.

You press your lips together, as you don't want to talk about what happened, at least not yet. But you know that avoiding it won't be easy.

You know it when Aemond catches a glimpse of your slowly moving figure out of the corner of his eye, so he raises his gaze and his eye looks directly into yours.

You instantly react, avert your gaze from him and head to the closet with a hurried step to grab clean clothes while he watches you attentively and pleadingly at all times, wanting this silence and tension between the two of you to end.

"Y/N—

He couldn't sleep all night and the restlessness so far hasn't left him alone, so he's exhausted and doesn't plan to do any work today because he simply can't.

But he wants to try to fix about last night.

He calls softly to you in a careful tone but you quickly cut him off.

"I'm going to shower."

You say hurriedly but with no encouragement in your voice and quickly walk past him, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you, leaving him alone with those bad thoughts in his mind, letting out a sigh as he brings his hands to his face, frustrated and tired.

It's not until an hour after you finish getting ready to leave for work that you see Aemond in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of water, finding it strange that he's not locked in his office, but you don't ask him anything about it.

And when you finish making sure you bring all your stuff in your bag, like your phone, keys and wallet, Aemond watches you cautiously throughout, still feeling that weight on his shoulders and that ache in his chest for not being on good terms with you.

"I can drive you."

He tells you suddenly, softly and in a calm voice, this catching your attention but you don't even notice him, instantly hurrying to get out of the apartment soon.

"It's okay. I don't want to slow you down at work."

"I'm not going to work today," he lets you know, this surprising you, but you hide it and don't react.

But you still reject him.

"There's no need. Don't worry."

And so you head for the door, walking out of the apartment, leaving him behind.

This of course hurts Aemond, as you've never turned him down on this sort of thing before, feeling really bad.

Still he later texts you asking if you need him to pick you up, but again you turn him down telling him that Sophie, your co-worker, will do you the favor, when in fact you take the bus.

And once you get home, there is still this tension and silence between the two of you, which feels horrible, but above all it feels more horrible to Aemond, who even though he tries to talk to you about it, you don't let him, cutting him off instantly, excusing yourself with other things.

That night you sleep in bed together with him, relieving him that he didn't want to go another full night without sleep, but you both sleep completely apart, not touching each other.

That's unusual, he's just never been through anything like that before and of course he hugs you and tries to talk to you in the comfort of your bed, but you don't respond to his touch.

You let him hug you but you don't hug him back, turning your back on him, making it clear that you don't want to be that way with him. So he can only let out a sigh and pull away, respecting your decision and your space even though it hurts.

But he can't take this anymore.

The next day at work he goes looking for his grandfather, serious and willing, entering his office without knocking and closing the door without much tact, watching him with annoyance all over his face.

Otto Hightower looks up from some papers on his desk and embodies an eyebrow at him, expectant and slightly confused.

"Can I help you?"

"What did you say to Y/N?

He inquires her instantly, getting straight to the point, serious and annoyed. But of course, Otto Hightower feigns an innocent expression on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me," he warns, "I know you talked to her and I want to know what you told her."

"Aemond," he lets out a sigh, "If you're having problems with your girlfriend, you don't want to try to get me in on your fights—

"It's no coincidence that she left that fucking event right after I saw her talking to you, so tell me what it was you said to her," he demands again, more serious than before.

Otto shakes his head, even with the innocent expression lingering.

"I told you we didn't even talk much. We just talked about your future, the things you're accomplishing and in the end I told her to enjoy the rest of the night, that's all. So maybe you should be more concerned about why your dear girlfriend walks out of a very important event for you leaving you alone, like she doesn't care."

Aemond can't help the frustration and anger that begins to grow inside him.

"I know you're lying."

"You're misunderstanding things."

"She's not talking to me! She's upset and I don't even know why, she doesn't want to tell me!" he exclaims angrily, completely losing his patience.

And his grandfather just watches him silently with a serious look, not saying anything else to him and this causing more frustration and annoyance to Aemond who quickly walks towards him, placing his hands on his desk and leaning towards him with a threatening face.

"I don't know what happened but I know you said things to her," he makes it clear, his tone serious, "You made me hurt her to not only ruin the night for me, but for her as well—

"Aemond—

"Or what?" he interrupts him as well, not letting him speak, "You think I don't know all the effort you're putting into trying to further increase the rumors between Rivers and I with the press? In how you're interfering between me and her by getting Rivers in the way? And all because you don't want to lose a fucking association with a company at the cost of ruining my relationship?"

Otto Hightower slowly rises from his chair, watching him just as seriously and menacingly.

"An association that believe me you don't want to lose either, Aemond."

He makes it clear to him slowly, with an obvious and equally menacing look, leaving Aemond silent for a moment.

"We could never partner with Dorne, so partnering with Riverlands is all we have left, because after all, before long you'll be the new boss or am I wrong?"

"If you lose it… it could cost us millions," he reminds him slowly and clearly, "And you risk not only your own future as an businessman, but the future of all of us, your family, the partnerships with the other companies, the employees and the legacy we've built. And obviously I can't allow that to fall apart."

He inquires and Aemond swallows hard, feeling a knot in his stomach, knowing full well that his father's health is getting worse every day.

And everyone knows, his mother, his brothers, uncles, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, everyone… that it's only a matter of time.

"But there are other ways, there are—

Aemond shrugs and clenches his hands tightly into fists as Otto watches him harshly, the room feeling charged with tension.

"We will go bankrupt, Aemond! What don't you understand!?"

Explodes Otto furiously.

""Your father left a lot of work pending since he got sick and now you are his successor, which you are lucky that I am breaking my back for you to help you, to save from now on your reputation and the company that will be under your command when the time comes. And that you don't want to help me in the same way for not learning to separate personal relationships from your work, is not my problem."

"We will go into crisis if we don't get Riverlands, we will lose income, we will have a lot of debt, our companies in Oldtown, Lannisport, Stom's End, in the Vale and in Winterfell we will lose them. And Riverlands has partnerships in Essos as well as Dorne, so understand what's at stake," he continues in a harsh tone, "Do you want Helaena to lose Highgarden and Winterfell or your mother to stop running the company in Oldtown? Do you really want to lose everything we've built? Is that what you want to happen, Aemond?"

Aemond's heart begins to pound, he lowers his gaze and with his jaw clenched he thinks about it, he feels anxiety and deep bewilderment. He thinks of his sister, his mother, his brothers, his whole family, everything they have built.

Otto's words echo in his head in a constant echo and suddenly… he feels trapped, cornered in his own life, helpless.

At that moment he craves a respite, that need for peace, he needs you by his side, the woman he loves and the one who can give him that comfort zone.

But you are not there, everything suddenly feels lost and he also feels that everything is wrong, and he is instantly overcome with frustration, sadness, anger and an overwhelming sense of vulnerability.

Aemond really clings to his own determination, determined not to give in to his grandfather's threats, but he knows he's right about everything about the company and his family. And he really feels trapped, because he doesn't know what to do about Alys Rivers and her company.

So he can only place a bitter smile and shake his head, his mind a mess.

"You're unbelievable, you know that?"

He tells her as he begins to walk away from him, starting to pace around the room slowly as he runs a hand over his face, placing it on his chin.

"You leave all this burden to me, because you want to take advantage of me just like what you did with Aegon and Cassandra."

Otto rolls his eyes, watching him just as annoyed and bored as before.

"If you don't want to learn how to work this kind of thing out's, I don't understand why you're going to be the next boss."

"No, of course I can work this kind of thing out," he makes it clear, serious, watching him annoyed, "Just not in this dirty way."

"Alys Rivers is a very demanding, perfectionist and exacting person, just like her uncle. So if she wants to try to maintain an intimate relationship with you, you're going to let her, for the good of the company. Or at least pretend, pretend you're interested in her too so you can sign that fucking paper once and for all."

Aemond looks at him completely disgusted, badly and with a scowl on his face, watching him as if he doesn't know him.

"You are… completely disgusting."

"I'm teaching you how to survive in all of this and also how to keep the company afloat," he makes it clear to him, his other way of looking at things.

"You only think about yourself, money and reputation. You don't care about my feelings, my relationship and that I'm hurting Y/N."

"No, I don't care, because the company is not going to sustain itself otherwise," he tells him simply, nonchalantly, "And if your girlfriend can't understand this, your job, your future and that we can't fail, then I don't understand why you're still with her. You have to make sacrifices in order to live, and that's something you better start understanding now."

Yes… Aemond knows he will have to make sacrifices. It's the first thing his father told him since it was ruled that he would be the Heir.

But Aemond told himself from the beginning that if those sacrifices were his family or his relationship with you, he will go to great lengths to keep his family out of it and you too, because he is not willing to lose you.

He wants to be worthy of you, treat you like you deserve, give you the world and keep you by his side, because the last thing he wants because of his desperate grandfather and a reckless woman is for the relationship to no longer work.

He knows it won't be easy, but he will do the impossible.

Although… the breaking point is near.

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#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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arabellasleopardcoat · 5 months

Text

Wolf (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Daemon inherits the Red Keep. He turns it into a sex club. You know, as one does.

Warnings: Modern Daemon x Hightower reader. Smut. Dom/ Sub dynamics. Overstimulation.

A/N: Daemon's views do not represent my own! Pt 2 to this. There is no need to read pt 1 to understand it, though. Also, do not learn BDSM from fanfic.

You sighed. You dropped your head, smashing the keyboard. This was unbelievable. Had your CV always looked so bland?

You erased the keysmash, and put instead, five years of experience as an CDO.

The door to your office was slammed open, making you jerk in your seat. You looked up, an annoyed remark already on your tongue, and froze. Daemon. Because who else would barge in so rudely?

“Your whorish sister is suing me.” He sat down, dramatically slumping down on the chair. “Make it stop.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“Good morning to you too.” You closed the tab you were browsing in, job offers in King's Landing, and looked up at him. It was the first time you had seen each other since the elevator incident. So far, you were unimpressed with his opening gambit. “Alicent is the most monogamous person in Westeros.”

“It was a figure of speech.”

“Whatever. I am busy.” You typed even more furiously. You had all tabs closed, but Daemon didn't need to know that. It gave you an excuse to avoid looking at him. After that afternoon in the elevator, you were too embarrassed to do so.

Despite having been the one in control the whole time, you were the one who felt more ashamed of your encounter. Once the power trip had worn off, and you had faced reality, embarrassment had started to creep in. Sitting in your father's car with a bruised throat and soaking wet underwear had been humiliating enough. Just thinking of it made you hot under the collar, and not in a good way.

Daemon, instead, had the shamelessness of a porn star. To him, it hadn't been a big deal at all, and it showed. He strutted around the building, giving you naughty little grins every time your paths crossed. The only change had come, oddly enough, from following his real Instagram. You had been added to his Close Friends and now endured the terrible, inhuman torture of watching his selfies. If his mirror pics showed any more skin, they would be dick pics.

“You won't even ask why I am being sued?”

You sighed. You stopped feigning typing.

“I don't need to ask. I can guess it has to do with the contesting of your brother's will.”

Good Gods, you had heard enough of that. Alicent was clawing at the walls and frothing at the mouth that she was getting evicted from her home. Viserys had left her a considerable amount of money and properties, just as he had done for their children. But the Red Keep, the ancestral home in which she had lived ever since they married, was going to Daemon.

Your father was impossible, too. The majority of Viserys' share had gone to Daemon and Rhaenyra, which meant they could easily kick him out of the company. If they managed to agree on something, of course.

“It does.” Daemon kicked his feet up, placing them on your desk. He made a show of getting comfortable.

“There. Out of my office. I'm working” You slapped what you could reach of his feet and calves, until he had no choice but lower them.

“Fuck, you are so…” Whatever Daemon was going to say, he didn't get the chance. You slammed your laptop closed with much more force than necessary, making him wince. “Stop that. Seven Hells, you are so uptight. Relax. It doesn't matter. It’s not like you will hold this job much longer.”

“Is this my notice?” Your eyes narrowed. “Because you need to present it written, and I have to…”

“I just mean, when Rhaenyra gets the…” Daemon started saying, but once again, you did not give him the chance to finish. If he was going to interrupt you, you were going to interrupt him too. Petty as it sounded, it brought you great satisfaction to see him squirm.

“When Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron, you mean.” You smirked.

“God, what a mouthful.” Daemon laughed. It was annoying. His laugh was so loud and unashamed. You wanted to punch him. Or, at least, shake him and see if his only two neurons made synapse.

“Whatever.” You started to get up, grabbing your coat. Where were you going? Not even you knew, but it would be fine, as long as it was away from him.

“They could fire you still.” Daemon got up as well, blocking the exit. There was no escaping him, it seemed.

“I'll take my chances.” You snarled. Fuck, you didn't even mind Rhaenyra that much. It was the principle of the thing. What had she done for the company? Both she and Daemon just rode Viserys and Otto's success, spending money like it grew on trees and causing so many PR scandals they could as well be a controversial rock band. “Move.”

“It's still going to Rhaenyra.” Daemon placed a hand on your shoulder, holding you in place. His grip wasn't harsh, but rather, a warning. It made you think of the way he had tugged your hair, when you were on your knees… “Your sister is suing me because I want to put a sex club on the Red Keep.”

You choked on air.

“You want to do what?!”

“It's an historical building. Or so she says.” Daemon ignored you completely. To him, apparently, filling one of his ancestral properties with a bunch of naked, drunk people, was the new normal. You know, just what one does, if one is filthy rich and bored on a random Tuesday.

“It is one.” You said, a bit perplexed. The Red Keep was more than a hundred years old. Alicent had taken great care to restore the place, bringing experts from all over the world to ensure the best care for the building. You could not even imagine the look on her face when she realized that not only was she being evicted, but that also, Daemon intended to use her home as his sex dungeon.

How would that even work? Was it legal? Tourists visited the Red Keep, you knew. The place was nice, but it was a castle. You could not picture it as a club, or anything more than the home it had been for your nephews.

“The inauguration is on Friday. See you there.” Daemon clapped your shoulder, oddly sheepish. He seemed to actually want you there, which threw you for a loop. He kissed the corner of your mouth, and left, leaving you stunned in the middle of your office.

It ate at you the whole week. A few discreet inquiries confirmed that yes, Alicent sued Daemon. And then, Daemon sued back.

His official Instagram says nothing. His secret one, though, has it plastered all over. You make a note of it, sure that it will leak before the week is over. You get it right. The week passes in a flurry of desperate interns and phone calls, trying to calm down outraged members of the board. His face is all over the news, and the stocks drop. Again.

Your father is furious. Positively seething. Alicent is no better, especially the more Friday approaches. Each day that goes by, it’s one closer to losing her claim on the Red Keep altogether.

It had been a foolish choice, choosing Aemond as a lawyer. He was precisely the kind of man who never knew when to negotiate. If it had been up to you, you would have hired his associate, Alys Strong. Now that was a woman who you could respect.

You tried pretending deafness and blindness, clinging to the idea that out of sight was out of mind. It didn't work whatsoever. You couldn't stop worrying about what would happen if anyone found out about your rendezvous with Daemon last month.

Death, surely. Either throttled by Alicent, or out of sheer embarrassment of your father learning you had sex.

You should stay away from him. It was the reasonable thing to do. A one-night stand didn't mean anything. Everyone had those. Daemon was trouble. But gods, the look on his face when you had left him wanting. How powerful you had felt. Anyone would have trouble letting that go.

Friday dragged by, and you still had not made your choice. You agonized over it all day. It was only when you got off work that you made your choice. You were going, if only to see the clusterfuck with your own eyes.

Daemon had that kind of effect on you. It reminded you of the magicians at the birthday parties you used to attend as a child. He made you recklessly curious, always wanting to see what would be his next trick.

Deciding what to wear was another agonizing choice. Overall, it didn't matter. You realized as soon as you entered the Red Keep that you were overdressed. If you had shown up only in your panties, perhaps you would have blended right in.

It was tacky. It was tasteless. It screamed Daemon.

The Red Keep layout was kept the same, probably because it was an historical building and anything but would go against the conservation’s laws. All the furniture had been removed, making you barely recognize the rooms you passed. This was no longer your sister's home, but a den of sin.

The rooms were only lit by red lights, the heavy bass of some song that was probably in the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack echoing in the stone walls. You made your way to what used to be the dinning room, and walked towards the bar.

Tonight was meant to be a soft launch, and you intended to take advantage of the lowered prices. You asked the bartender to bring you a cocktail, but much to your surprise, the cocktail did not come alone. Instead, it came with a pamphlet and a small basket, filled with colorful bracelets.

“You have to wear one, Miss.” The bartender said. You stared.

When you were confident about what they each meant, you grabbed a purple one and placed it on your wrist.

“Switch.” Daemon whispered in your ear, startling you. “Are you sure about that?”

“Good Gods! You frightened me.” You complained, clutching your chest. To be able to speak to him over the loud music, you had to lean into his space quite a bit. By the smirk on his face, he was clearly enjoying it.

“I live for that. Frightening naive little girls.” Daemon gave a tug to the bracelet, letting it snap against your skin. “Sure about the color?”

“I am.” You moved back, scowling. You hated that he always wanted to command everything around him. The bracelet on his wrist was dominant red, making perfect sense.

“I would not say you are.” His hands were quick to catch you, one at your hip and another at your nape. Daemon ran a finger down your spine, making you shiver. “I think you are a little princess who loves submitting.”

“I am not a sub all the time.” You pushed his hands away. If anyone saw you practically on his lap, there would be hell to pay. Alicent would throw a fit, and so would your father. Besides, you didn't fancy ending up in the tabloids. “And get your hands off me, we are in public.”

“Look around, you prude. Practically an orgy.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and gently tilted you to face some couches in the other room. There were two women kissing, while a man was kneeling between their spread legs. None of them were wearing any clothes. You swallowed. You had been carefully avoiding looking at the others in the room. “And you are a submissive to me. You know what they say…”

“And what gave you that impression?” Your tone was sharp, but you were not as invested in the conversation as you once were. No. Because your eyes were fixed on a younger man, lingering by the corner of the room. A very familiar one, with silver hair. Was that..?

Whoever caught your attention, he was not allowed it long. Daemon stepped in front of you, blocking your view of him. One of his hands went to your face.

“Looks like one.” He pressed a kiss to your neck, open-mouthed. You hated your treacherous, treacherous body for reacting to it, a moan escaping your mouth. “Sounds like one.” Daemon kissed you, exactly at the pace that you liked. For some bewildering reason, that not even you could fathom, you kissed back. “Tastes like one. Must be one, don't you think?”

Daemon grinned at you, superiorly. Irritatingly, and just like that time in the elevator, you weren't sure if you wanted to slap the smile off his face, or kiss it away.

“I do not look submissive.” You bristled. “What in the Seven Hells gave you that impression?”

“Your eyes are all glazed over. You look fucked out and I haven't even touched you. And of course…” Daemon brushed the slope of your nose with a finger and gave it a boop. You batted his hand away, annoyed. “The fact that you were practically drooling to suck my cock a month ago.”

“First of all, that is not even a word. And you said it yourself. A month ago.”

“What? Glazed over or fucked out?”

“You sound like a bad porno.”

“A bad porno you like, little brat.” Daemon nosed along your shoulder, making your knees feel weak. He had the face of a man experiencing heaven, as if the tastiest delicacy was just there, for him to consume. “Lucky you, I love brats.”

“As if I care.” You did, but Daemon didn't need to know that. Part of you felt strangely pleased at being his type.

Daemon laughed. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“You owe me a punishment. Up for it?”

And again, contradicting all common sense, you nodded. Daemon grabbed your hand and brought you to a closed door, but before you could get in, someone pressed into your side.

“Aunt. How lovely.” Aegon said, smiling like a shark. You felt so embarrassed that you felt as if about to spontaneously combust. Daemon's arm around your waist tightened.

“Dear nephew!” Daemon smirked. “Fancy meeting you here. Tell me, how did you get in? Fake ID?”

Aegon was well over legal age, but he glared at Daemon regardless.

“With the invitation you sent me.” He then waved a hand towards you. “Does Mother know about this?”

“Well, yes. But I wasn't expecting you to show.” Daemon said, casually. Your mouth fell open.

“You sent him an invitation? Are you insane?” You shouted, turning towards him.

“I take it Mother doesn't know.”

“I wasn't expecting him to come! How would I have known?” Daemon shouts right back.

“You are mad.” You detangle yourself from him and ask the bartender for a shot. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

You down the shot so fast, you barely feel the sting of alcohol in the back of your throat. Aegon watches, amused, and asks for a drink of his own. When faced with the basket, he immediately picks a submissive bracelet and slips it on casually.

“Nice place you got here.” He complimented. Daemon ignores him, choosing instead to grab you by the arm.

“I can explain, little Hightower.”

“Fuck, you call her that?” Aegon whistles, delighted. His voice has a hint of awe. “That's dirty.”

“Shut up!” You glare at Aegon. Daemon falls quiet. “No, not you, fool. Explain.”

“I sent one to your sister, to Cole, to your father, to that boy with the stick up his ass, to Harwin and Nyra, to Helaena, to…” Daemon was counting with his fingers, and it seemed like he wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

“I get it, I get it.” You interrupted. “What for?”

“To piss them off, of course. Gods know, some of those cunts need loosening up.”

“And Rhaenyra? Is she happy with what you have done with the place?” You snarl, a bit of jealousy creeping in your tone.

“Very. In fact, I saw her disappear over there with that Cole guy.” He pointed towards one of the rooms.

“Criston? Didn't think he had it in him.” Aegon comments idly.

“He is dornish.” Daemon interjected, as if it made perfect sense. But it didn't because being dornish didn't equate with wanting to receive whatever Rhaenyra had in mind. You certainly wouldn't be up for it. Your paths had crossed with hers enough times to know that, just as Daemon, she demanded worship.

Whatever Criston was doing here, you hoped he didn't regret it in the morning. Or else, you would have to explain to Alicent why her bodyguard was moping around and hungover.

Alicent. Fuck. Criston wanted to fuck her so bad it made him look stupid, and so did Rhaenyra. Perhaps that was it. Neither of them could have her, so they settled for each other instead.

“And heavy on the guilt.” Aegon muttered.

“Well, dear nephew. As lovely as it was meeting you here, and as touching as your show of support for my fine establishment was, I have business with your aunt.” Daemon's hand presses against your lower back, urging you forwards. You give Aegon a wide-eyed look. He is not the sort to care where others stick their cocks, and you are on relatively good terms, but he could still tell.

“Gross. Does Grandfather..?” Well. No one said Aegon was the paragon of intelligence. It is for the best that you didn't answer his question. Plausible deniability and all.

Daemon and you exchange a look. Your eyes, pleading. His, annoyed.

“Anything he drinks is free.” Daemon grumbles to the barman. He knows as well as you do that Aegon is easily distracted.

“What? For real?”

Neither of you answered. Daemon kept moving, and so did you. He led you towards one of the locked doors, deftly pushing a token inside a slit, and the door opened for you.

Your expectations for what was inside were high. Needing a token to open a door must mean this place is something special. A dungeon, perhaps, or a room filled with chains and leather. Maybe even a bedroom.

But as you have often come to realize with men, having high expectations is a terrible idea. The only thing inside is a cozy-looking couch and a small table that holds a bowl full of condoms and lube. You are unable to keep the disappointed little frown from your face. Daemon had talked such a big game, you had expected something different. Something more.

“This is it?” You say, trying not to sound as disappointed as you feel.

“Yes.” Daemon sits down on the couch. You stare. You must be pretty obvious because he gives you a lazy smile. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No.” Entranced by the way his lips curl, you step closer to him.

“What were you expecting?” Daemon’s hands go to rest on your hips like it's the most natural thing in the world.

“I don't know. Whips, chains?”

Daemon chuckles.

“Oh, sweetling.” He kisses between your collarbones, mouth leaving a trail of scorching heat on its path. You gasp, feeling weak at the knees from the simple touch. Your hands go to his shoulders, clenching and unclenching on his shirt to try to steady yourself.

Thing about Daemon? He is not polite. He kisses your chest and shoulders as if he wants to devour you. Daemon is messy with it, too, leaving you covered in hickeys and saliva. It should disgust you, but it only manages to turn you on more.

The bass pounds outside the room, mixing with the heavy pulse of your blood in your ears. You could swear you can listen to your heartbeat, with how fast your heart is going. Little pants escape you, only encouraging Daemon to get wilder.

He mouths at your throat. He takes off your top, sliding it down your shoulders. You cling to him, trembling and feverish. Your nails dig into the skin of his back, you feel as if about to fall over.

“Please.” You say, and you don't even know what you are asking for. Daemon, though, seems to know exactly what you need. His hand sneaks into your trousers, finding you wet and willing. Your knees buckle.

“Shh.” His voice is soothing. “Straddle me.”

So you do. His mouth goes lower, taking one of your nipples inside his mouth. You give a small, keening sound.

“Daemon…”

“I'm on it.” He smiles against your skin and slowly starts to suck. His fingers move upwards, after collecting some of your wetness. He locates your clit with deadly accuracy and starts rubbing soft little circles.

You mewl. Your hand goes to his neck, holding him as close as you can to your chest. It's not hard for him at all to bring you over the edge. You fall over it embarrassingly fast, muffling a moan on his shoulder.

Daemon lightly bites around your nipple, making you jolt. He keeps stroking you through it, pleasurable circles on your clit turning into painful oversensitivity. You cry out, legs trying to close, but finding there is no way for you to do it with how you are straddling Daemon.

“Hurts. Stop, Daemon.” You complain, trying to get away. Instead of complying with your request, though, Daemon only holds you tighter.

“Now, little brat. Where do you think you are going?” He smirks. Alarmed, you try to break his grip, pushing at his shoulders and even attempting to cup a hand over your cunt. “I have not forgotten what you did.”

You bite at his shoulder, hard. Daemon laughs, and keeps abusing your poor clit. His fingers pinch around it, exposing more of the bead.

“What's your safeword?”

“Safeword.” You mutter back, too distracted to try to be creative. The burning sensation on your clit keeps you from it, rising and rising and making you think you are about to come again. Soon, the pain changes from a bright flame to tiny embers, making your hips chase his hand once more.

“Good girl. Clever.” He kisses your forehead. “If you don't say it, I won't stop, no matter how loud you scream.”

Your mind is at war with your nerve endings, and it's steadily losing the battle. No matter how hard you try to focus on the thought of being unable to come again this fast, your body seems set on proving the contrary.

You want to give Daemon a witty retort. Perhaps, say something about the lines of how he will disappoint yet again. Yet, you are unable to because a shrill moan is leaving your lips, and you are falling over the edge again.

Daemon, though, is relentless. He pushes a finger inside of you, searching for the spot that will make you scream. You try to close your legs, shield your body from him. It’s pointless. He has too good of a grip on you, one hand holding you open and teasing your clit, and the other fingering you.

He definitely knows what he is doing. You are suffering too much to enjoy it.

Your body jerks as if you have touched a live wire, stomach’s muscles quivering with the effort of holding you uprights. Sweat is starting to ruin your hair, making it stick to your nape and temples.

“No, no, no.” You push at him, trying to get away. This time, you half manage, falling off his lap and into the couch instead. Daemon just looks amused, and leans down to nuzzle your belly.

“Thank you.” He lifts your hips slightly, even as you start to try to kick him off. He removes both your trousers and underwear with a swift tug. “This will be so much easier.”

And so, he licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan, half pleasure, half protest. Daemon wraps his arm over your hip and pins you down. He then takes your clit into his mouth.

The feel of his warm mouth around your clit eases a bit of the soreness there. The pleasure has made you stupid, so you open your legs to give him better access. You can feel the smugness radiating off him as you submit.

He is a dragon, he will tell you later. And dragons eat naive girls like you for breakfast, dinner and supper, if they are stupid enough to let them get close.

Daemon pushes another finger inside you. The stretch feels unbearable, making you try to squirm once more, but he is moving his fingers in a come and hither motion; your body is going rigid, and you are screaming and falling and—

You lose count, after that. Your body feels abused, there are tear tracks on your temples. You feel feverish. You go in and out of consciousness, as Daemon laps at you, fingers you, rubs at you.

Time turns liquid. It slips through your fingers, moments at a time. You are not very conscious of your body, or of what Daemon is doing. There is only hot, molten pleasure and burning pain.

How much pleasure can a body take? Your hands push weakly at his head, moments later, you beg for him to use his tongue instead. He gives you a last one, forcing your body to arch and twist and making you sob desperately, before scooping you up in his arms.

Daemon's hands go to fix your top. You shake, afraid that he is going to continue and torture your nipples instead.

“No, no, no, no.” You chant. “Please. I am so sorry. Please.” You are barely aware of what you are saying. If you could hear yourself with a clear head, you would scoff at this pitiful woman who bends for the simplest things. You would scoff at her, just as you had scoffed at Daemon for being made into a slave to his pleasure.

“You won't do that again, will you?” Daemon licks your tears, and you cling to his shirt in desperation, willing to keep begging if necessary. Pleasure is as devastating a weapon as pain, you have found out. The line between the two blurs until you are not sure if you need his mouth on you again to soothe the pain, or if you need him to never touch you to stop hurting.

You shake your head. You would do anything Daemon wants.

He grabs you by the jaw, roughly.

“Say it.”

“I won't. I promise, please.”

Daemon hugs you to him. You melt, mind and body exhausted.

“You were good.” He tells you, after a while. You are not sure how much time has passed, but your head feels much more clear. “My brave girl.”

You cling to his reassurance. You tell yourself you have done good, that you endured and never even thought of the safeword. That your body was pushed to its limits, and that you were able to conquer them. Still, you ask.

“Was I good?”

“The best.” Daemon caresses your hips, drawing nonsensical patterns on the side of them.

“Thank you.” And you pull yourself together, one piece at the time. Your eyes focus, you can feel the way his chest constricts and expands with his breath. You righten yourself. “Water. I want a water.”

“You are back, I see.” He stares at you with none of the contempt he had displayed a month before. “Cunty little Hightower that you are, used to the lush life.”

“I do not think it too much to ask.” You scowl, more than ready for another round of banter. No matter how tired your body is, your mind is still sharp.

Daemon laughs.

“Get down from my lap and I will get you one.”

You do so, on shaky legs. You sit. Primly, as if not sitting naked in a sex club, but rather at the table of an important restaurant.

Daemon laughs at the sight you make, thoroughly fucked out but so damn composed it's nearly irritating. It almost makes him question if he has fucked you well enough. The tear tracks on your face seem to say so, but your demeanor says otherwise.

He comes back with your water, and you straighten a bit more. Your hands give you away, though. As sharp as your posture is, you are still shaking.

“You could come with me.” Daemon opens the bottle for you. “I would pay you.”

You feel as if you have been gutted. You are more than this, you think. A Hightower, an heiress in your own right. Not a trophy wife, not someone to be used and paid. You have a degree, you are smart. And you have sworn not to become like Alicent.

Viserys had been a kind godfather and mentor to you. He had not been a good husband to her.

“Be your sugar baby?” Already, you feel your walls rising back up. Why would he ask this of you? It must be a mockery of some sort, perhaps he has not forgotten how cutting your barbs to him once were. This must be Daemon getting his revenge.

Your mental retreat must be paired with a physical one, even if you do not realize it. Because Daemon is coming after you, his hands on your hips, pulling you back into his lap.

His face changes to something more serious. He rubs his nape, and you know, only by that gesture, that what comes next will be good. Daemon Targaryen does not do sheepish, you would say if asked. Yet here he is, blushing like a schoolboy. It makes something roar in you.

“While that sounds tempting, I like you too much for it. Respect you too much for it. But the club needs a presence on social media…”

You nearly smile. But you are a Hightower and you enjoy making him grovel. Daemon calls you a cunt for a reason, after all.

“Everyone would say I fucked the owner.” You whine, hiding your face on his neck so he doesn't see the ferocious smile on your lips. He must feel it against his skin, the most beautiful of curves, sharp teeth at his throat.

“So? Did you not?” Daemon asks because he is also an annoying asshole. The remark, even if teasing, makes something painful tighten around your chest. As much as you can pretend not to be bothered by it, this getting out would end you. Your father would die of a fit of rage, your sister would never speak to you again, not when the man you are fucking and working with is suing her to the Seven Hells and back.

Rabbits and other small prey animals freeze to avoid detection. You do the same. As if standing still may make you escape notice, will make Daemon unable to read the lines of your face and body.

“You don't have to say yes right away. You can think it over.” His hand rubs the small of your back, soft and sweet.

He can tell. Of course, he can, if the truth is written on your features so well, you might as well be shouting it from the rooftops.

Daemon smiles. He helps you dress, tenderly.

“Come. I'll drive you home.”

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