#prince aemond angst
Text
I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]
Text Divider by @saradika-graphics
SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.
WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.
WORD COUNT | 9.6k
A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes
Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.
By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife.
If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!
‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.
Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.
Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age.
Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved.
And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love.
He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.
And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens.
There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.
How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?
As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.
After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.
It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.
When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.
Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did.
His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.
He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.
His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to.
He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.
It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.
“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.
“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.
In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.
He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.
After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride.
Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.
Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.
When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought.
Until now.
There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband?
Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.
But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance…
Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him.
These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them.
That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was.
He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?
And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.
She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).
He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out.
Duty. Duty. Duty.
If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.
His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.
Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.
Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.
There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.
The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.
Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.
She tried with him, Gods bless her.
She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.
More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get. Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.
She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.
He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.
The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.
The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.
She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.
The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately.
How she wished it was her.
A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals. Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.
And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.
“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.
Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.
Did he find her so disagreeable?
All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.
“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.
Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.
“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”
“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”
He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”
“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”
Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.
“Might I ask what is so amusing?” she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.
“My Lady, we were just–”
“Princess,” she corrected.
“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”
“Making presumptions about my marriage?”
“No… we just…”
“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now.
“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.
“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”
She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”
She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.
Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?
She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.
She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.
“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.
She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.
She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.
He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.
“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut.
“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger, it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.
“They were being crude, and insulting you.”
He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face.
Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.
She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.
He turned to face her with a hand on the door. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.
He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him.
Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these, he needed a champion too.
That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife.
Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.
Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.
She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.
Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor.
They have come to enjoy each other's company.
Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.
I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.
Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit.
Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.
He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife.
His, his, his.
Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right.
He needed her to see that he wanted to try.
He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron.
But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.
He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive.
Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him?
But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?
And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there.
His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.
His hands, all over her.
It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.
Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked.
Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.
Oh yes, their marriage had grown.
This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either.
Yes, they could make something out of this.
“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige.
“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”
Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do.
Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.
She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own.
He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.
“Go on.”
He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened.
“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.
He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.
“I shall treasure it, thank you.”
She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.
Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.
As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.
While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.
But now, there was more.
Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care.
He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.
The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.
She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears.
My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.
You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.
It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.
When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.
And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.
She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into.
But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.
And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–
Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up.
“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.
“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.
“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”
Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.
“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.
“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”
“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?”
She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.
He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.
“Hm. Perhaps.”
Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.
As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.
Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”
“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.
“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.”
She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full.
Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind.
“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.
“Hm. Thank you.”
The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.
When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.
Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.
“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.
She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”
She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.
She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.
“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”
His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips.
“Thank you, for everything.”
The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.
Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.
There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.
Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did.
Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.
One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago.
These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria.
The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries.
An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said.
She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.
Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.
Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.
Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored.
He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.
He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.
A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself.
He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.
“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.
Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.
Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.
It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.
Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?
And then, she came to him. His wife.
With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.
It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.
It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.
The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.
He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim.
She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.
He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.
He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.
He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.
He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”
He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed.
She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.
In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally.
It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.
Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.
The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.
His flower. His wife. His very own.
NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!
MASTERLIST
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond smut#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen fic#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond#aemond targaryen x ofc#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond fic#aemond#pro aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#aemond angst#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen fanfiction
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Mother Knows No Bounds
prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.
pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader
technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose
fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon
word count: 5.7k+
note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote
warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother.
descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?
please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content:
descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.
you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!
The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.
Women skinny dipped.
Children ran around without their clothes.
Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.
The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.
The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.
It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.
For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.
Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.
You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.
21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.
Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.
However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.
The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.
The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.
Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.
Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.
Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.
Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.
You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.
"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."
"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.
"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"
"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.
He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"
"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."
"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.
"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."
"I've asked you why."
"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."
"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.
"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."
Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."
"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."
Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."
"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.
"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.
"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.
"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."
You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."
You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.
When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"
"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."
"Mother, it's too hot for - "
"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.
"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."
"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "
"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."
Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."
So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.
Sweat bulleted on brows.
Pale cheeks flushed with heat.
Legs started to shake from stress.
Clothes dampened and clung to skin.
You were all of the above and then some!
The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.
Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.
Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.
Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.
This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."
"What 'bout the li'l one?"
"Pardon?" Otto blinked.
"The Queen's last son?"
"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.
Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...
"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."
"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.
"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."
"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.
"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."
Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.
The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.
"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."
"We're almost done - "
"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."
You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.
The hall was too hot.
Stifling hot.
Suffocatingly hot.
Stuffy sort of hot.
Overwhelmingly hot.
Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!
Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!
So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!
However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.
"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"
But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.
"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"
"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.
"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"
"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.
"What happened?" Otto demanded.
"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."
"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."
"You saw the Grand Maester?"
"We did."
"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.
"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.
When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.
When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"
"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"
"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.
"Mother didn't demand you stay?"
"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."
"He was?"
"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.
When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.
The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.
He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.
You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.
Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.
"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.
"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."
"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.
"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."
Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."
With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."
"I-It was a girl?"
"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."
"But my body - "
"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."
"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"
Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."
"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."
"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."
When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."
"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"
"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"
"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"
"How was I to know - "
"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"
"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."
"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."
"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"
"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.
"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."
It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.
Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."
Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."
"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."
"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."
"Just lay with me," you requested.
He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."
"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"
"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."
Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."
"I do not deserve a woman like you."
"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"
His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."
A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.
You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.
You didn't move, staring into the flames.
Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.
King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.
For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.
requesting rules and masterlist
HOTD masterlist
#aemond targaryen#aemond#aemond one eye#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond#aemond x reader#aemond fanfiction#hotd aemond#aemond the kinslayer#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen x fem!reader#aemond targaryen x f!reader#hotd#hotd imagine#house of the dragon#hotd x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen angst
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Enchantress
Reader x Aemond Targaryen
Summary: You would guard your throne from vultures no matter the cost and so the games begins. In which Aemond Targaryen regrets making an enemy of his wife.
Aemond is a cheating hoe. No one wanted this I just really wanted to write some angst. As always your features and ethnicity is not mentioned, background is not specified but you are a highborn. After the Serpentine series I wanted something spicy.
Word count: 8.1k
༺━━━━━━━━━༻༒༺━━━━━━━━━༻
By nature you were a patient person, taking great diligence in ensuring emotions doesn't overcome your judgment. But as the hour grows late your forbearance for your husband had begun to wear thin. It nears twelve and you had been waiting for Aemonds return for well over three hours now. With every passing minute you find yourself drowning in madness as you draw a blank on where or what he was up to. Succumbing to the ill thoughts on your mind as the flickering dance and crackle of the fire floods your senses. You're tired, you're anxious and your ears are ringing yet you still sat unmoving. Why?
There was no doubt that the man in question confused you to no end, nevertheless you still made sure to act accordingly and play the part of his wife. Although you're finding it increasingly hard to upkeep the role of his good little lover when the man is hardly in your presence. It was true that your marriage with Aemond was one out of political leverage, but you still did your best to care for him. Always making sure your relationship was fostered and tended to in the hopes of something blossoming.
You had faith that he would grow fonder of you as the years went on, but with every passing day that thought was challenged. It had been a long journey but without fail you acted kind and loving towards him no matter the expense. Valuing your relationship with Aemond a great deal, you were willing to do anything for him.
Even endure his callous behaviors towards you.
It was no secret that the prince was rather displeased with your union. For a man that preached the importance of preforming duty, he was awfully bad at it. You had been wedded for almost half a year now and have yet to consummate the marriage. Not that you weren't willing to, the problem lies with your husband. It was plain to see behind closed doors that he did not take you seriously.
In his eye this marriage was a joke, you were but strangers at best due to his lack of effort. Now you know not of the origins of his distant behavior but you've tried your best to minimize them. Dragging Aemond off to accompany you on walks around the castle, asking him to join you for lunch; everyday without faltering you tried.
But to no avail, your attempts does little to dull the wall between you two. He doesn't interact with you unless it was mandatory or for show, displayed little emotions past cordial. And god forbid laying a hand on you was the end of the fucking world. Was this who Aemond Targaryen was? Cold and cynical? Deprived of all that makes a person human. Every time you looked at him he was a ghost, fading into the background slipping from your grasp. He was untouchable, invisible. His self-righteous aura creating a vortex around him.
The distance between Aemond and you had started to become apparent to the ladies in court. Everyday without fail they would voice their concerns, asking you if you were being mistreated. Of course you lie, a task that comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would since you had little ties with your husband. Though it makes you wonder if Aemond also found it easy to lie to you....
The thought gets lost on you as an intrusive sound rings through your chambers. Brows furrowing at the disturbance, why would Aemond feel the need to knock on your shared room? The train was rather absurd so it leads you into thinking that it wasn't him paying you a visit. Much to your disappointment. With confusion in your voice, you call out to the visitor.
"Come in." Anxiously bringing your palms together on your lap. Your fingers locked themselves in a manner of worry, squeezing tightly as you prepare yourself. Soon the door opens and in follows Ser Larys Strong. His pronounced way of walking evident as the cane hits the ground harshly. The sound announcing and intrusive, almost counting down the seconds before he reaches you.
"I am sorry to intrude on your private time my Lady, especially when the hour is so late but I fear this matter cannot wait till dawn." He smiles sympathetically although you do not like implications behind it. You notion for him to sit across from you, watching the scene carefully. You don't utter a word as he moves to take his place. Ser Larys's visits are always prompted.... And by the look on his face it reads that he knows something you don't... That fact slightly unnerved you...
"I thought this news would be best heard if it were from me.... From a friend..." Bullshit. Larys always had an ulterior motive, he liked cultivating favors from the court only for them to owe him in return. No doubt that he was a sick man that enjoyed manipulating others, finding power in mind games in a way that he cannot with the sword. You were far from friends but played the game together. He only viewed you so highly because you were one of the only people the didn't fall for his lures and cryptic words.
"I take it this news is not pleasant." Lifting a brow at him in question, you kept your manner strong and imposing. He swallows and nods his head briefly, averting his gaze from you to look at the floor.
"Earlier today.... Prince Aemond was caught indulging a servant girl in Harrenhal." He says the words carefully though no amount of safe keeping can withhold your anger. Larys words were vague but you understood clearly what he meant. Shaking in your seat, you calm yourself. Or at least tried to....
You were going to fucking kill him.
"Ah.... I see... Who else knows?" Your words come out strained. Tone cut and tense, implying that you were holding back an outburst as tears of anger slowly clouds your gaze. What did you honestly expect? Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, vision tunneling as rage began crawling up your center. For a moment your breath stills, the abyss captivating you before you snap out of it and focusing on Ser Larys once more. He says nothing as he watches the fire burn, avoiding your venomous stare.
"Just you and me." He nods slowly, finally looking at you, only to drop his gaze soon after. He was uncomfortable beyond measure... His mouth opens to say something once more but stops to take in your shape. You clutched at the chair with a murderous grip, nails digging into the stained leather. Slowly he met your unmoving eyes, taken aback by the poison swimming amongst them. Gods be good... That look never meant well. The tension was heavy and for a moment Larys feared for his own life. You were not sad nor disheartened, instead you were seething in hatred. The room fogs with something unpleasant as the walls welcomed the illness like an old friend. Such atmosphere was suffocating as he watched you shake in retribution, no doubt planning your next calculating moves.
Vengeance. That was all you wanted. Many questions plagued your mind, had you not been good enough for him? You've done all that you could to please him and yet he disrespect your name with his adultery. You honestly didn't know what to say, it wasn't like this was much of a shock to you since a part of you always had suspicions. But you dismissed those thoughts as nothing but intrusive and toxicant. Yet to hear the words out loud coming from a reputable man such as Ser Larys Strong was much different than you telling yourself. Larys was many things but he was not a liar. His words always had claim and a backbone, despite how distasteful the intentions behind them may be. You could not care less about what he wants to get out of you, what you want to know is what else he's keeping locked away. And what will it take to get him talking.
"The servant that caught them and sent for a raven was found killed under.... suspicious circumstances... I only received both letters now, of the girls retelling and of her death.... A dagger through the mouth what an awful way to go..." Larys speaks when you don't, watching the way you thought in silence. He wondered what you were thinking, for he was one of the only people that knew your true nature. You were a murderous woman, manipulative, vigilant, and vengeful... Behind those stupid smiles and shy fronts was an enchantress, turning the tides in her favor. And now an outsider trespasses on your waters. Larys knows more than anything that you were willing to guard your throne from vultures at any cost.
You didn't like coming second to anybody, and for a moment he prays for the prince...
"I understand that this must be difficult for you, but if you are ever in need... I'll be sure to be of service in this trying time..." You scoff at that, the sound reverberating through the room. There it was. The bait he dangles so tempting in front of foolish fish.
"At what cost Ser Larys, I am no fool. I know everything from you must always come at a price." Holding your chin up high, you crossed your arms and leaned back into your seat. Having calmed down a little, you plan a rainstorm of hell fire.
"Not this time... You see, this girl that had somehow managed to enthrall the prince.... She is a nuisance on my side so you can insure my allegiance is with you. As Lord of Harrenhal I make it a point to know everything and anything going on in my own castle, even if I'm not present. I can ensure you that I have eyes everywhere." You ignore the way your stomach turns at the thought of someone else captivating Aemond as you thought on his proposal. It would be quite useful to have someone with such connections on your side. Shaking your head as you corrected yourself. There were no sides nor factions, you were not at war with Aemond. Yet.
"Can you tell me the name of this girl?"
"She goes by Alys Rivers, you may know of her...." It was almost comical enough to force a laugh.
A bastard Strong... How truly ironic and cliche. It would seem that the very vendetta he had against his own nephews would be the cause of his own demise. The pain that rushed through you didn't burn anymore, instead it courses through your veins in bittersweetness, fueling your vengeance and need for revenge. You didn't care all that much about closure, instead looking for all the ways you can induce the same pain onto Aemond. You were patient to a fault, all the unwanted emotions manifesting into pettiness and spite.
To hurt Aemond Targaryen you must be precise and conniving, you couldn't afford any spill ups. In truth the stature he built of himself was great; intimidating, undying, a menace. But beneath all that you knew he was still the same little boy that got bullied for not having a dragon. Scars like that cannot be grown out of, especially when they've left such permanent imprints on him. You were not going to evoke One Eye Aemond who rides the largest dragon, but rather the young little boy he held so dearly to his heart. That was the Aemond you wanted to hurt. Not the man that gave you blank stares and barely spoke any words to you. Not the man that dares call himself your husband when he has not deserved the name. The neglected outcast freak, that was who you were going to murder.
How dare he choose her over you. Suddenly it clouds your vision. All the violence, the fire, the insecurities. Your inability to think clear, the pride and pain of being his wife. Your lust and distaste for the man that caused you such pain. It ruptures your heart. You would trade love for greed just to induce the same feelings onto him. Oh how you wanted to ruin him. Ruin her for him. By the end of it you wanted him begging at your knees, crying apologies. Who does Alys Rivers think she was to steal your husband away from you. And who does Aemond think he was to assume you wouldn't retaliate. Or perhaps he knew and simply didn't care... That was a common theme in your husband, not caring about you. He was more of a fool than you thought of if he thinks you were just going to stand for this and take it.
No. You wanted an eye for an eye. Or more plainly, a heart for a heart.
"Her existence threatens you." Speaking lowly as you projected your thoughts onto Ser Larys. You aren't the only one to have a reason to hate the aforementioned wench. You may be hazed with hatred but you are not blind. There was a reason Ser Larys chose to come to you instead of Aemond with this information. Without him you wouldn't have known anything, and surely the favor of a prince would be worth more than you could ever give him. Yet he came knocking at your door.
"I am the sole heir to my fathers title, if that bastard had somehow managed to persuade the prince then my very seat is challenged. An outsider amongst the natives. I need to ensure my status, my lady. Can I trust you on this." His words were frantic almost, his long brown hair falling over his face as he leaned in close. Ser Larys was pleading, in his own way...
"You can. Now, my friend... what will you have me do?" The smile that spread across your face was sinister as you prompted his guidance. Though it was more rhetorical, you knew what had to be done.
"Seduce Aemond. Capture his attention enough so that he begins to question his love for her." Love? Was that burned between them? Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you thought on it more. It wasn't a bad design, far better than you stabbing a knife through Alys in front of Aemond. Only one minor flaw.
"And how shall I manage to do that!? The man can barely look at me!"
"To the unseeing eye it appears that way. Though the amount of times I've caught his gaze lingering longer than it should is great. You are a smart woman y/n, I'm sure you can figure out a way to break through his barrier."
Could it be that all this time you just hadn't noticed him looking at you? Regardless that was irrelevant as you pondered your first move. You and Larys had the advantage, Aemond doesn't know that you knew of his infidelity. And as far as you're aware your image as his good little wife was still intact, so perhaps you would play into that role more. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize that you've grown stiff as a board. It dulls you as you realize that you've come to be the very woman you pray for. Desperately lost in their marriage. Endlessly dreaming, hoping one day Aemond would come around and play pretend with you. He was taking advantage of you without you knowing it. He sees your very being as something he can twist and turn in his palm like one of his daggers.
At a certain point he was bound to get cut.
To hurt Aemond Targaryen you must hurt that little boy. It had been weeks since your night with Ser Larys and silently you had been scheming. So far you remained indifferent, trying hard to make sure you aren't faltering by acting the same. It was a hard task that you've come to dread as you knew the cold truth behind his behaviors. At day he would be with you, by night he would be deep in her. You only began to notice the missing hours in your days and curse yourself for being so foolish. You thought long and hard about how you were going to approach the situation. Dissecting your husband under a magnifying glass whilst hiding behind timid smiles. And soon enough your praying and mute jealousy had manifested into the form of a golden haired beast bearing red and gold.
Ser Tyrin Lannister...
A handsome, charming young lord that has come to pay the crown a visit... Though you saw him for what he truly was, a prideful and egotistical man that's blinded by arrogance. The perfect pawn for your game. Truthfully, you only picked him out because he beared such acute resemblance to prince Aegon. The only difference in appearance was instead of the famed silver hair his was pure gold. You hoped that your choice of companion would strike a nerve with Aemond, seeing that he's spent so much of his youth being tormented by the image of the man.
And by the way he was glaring daggers at you and Tyrin, your expectations fall true. It was easy to manipulate the Lannister with sugar coated words and flirtatious giggles, the problem lied with Aemond taking the bait. Up until this point you were basically going off theory, but now you can trust that Aemond was a possessive man.
Your laugh rings through the room as you giggle at something Tyrin whispered in your ear. The man was indeed charismatic which made talking to him easy enough. If you hadn't diluted him to nothing but a playing piece you would have found yourself actually enjoying his company. You had been acquainted for quite some time now, ever since his first arrival, and everyday without fail you were with him. Slowly but surely you had began replacing Aemond with Tyrin in your life. It was him you went on walks with, it was him you dinned with. There was no doubt that Lannisters had vanity and he was aware of it, he was aware of how his gracious gifts won you over and softened you. Or so he thought. In weeks time you had managed to accumulate a collection of gold and ruby jewelries from the man himself.
Something Aemond has not taken kindly to, seeing the way his jaw would clench everytime you adorned the treasures. At this point you had purposely made a show of it, parading in a red and gold gown with massive ruby earrings dangling from your ears. All while you showcased a brilliant ruby and gold choker around your neck. You looked more like Tyrin's wife than Aemond's and perhaps that was your goal. Though honestly your endgame gets lost on you as you're having so much fun toying with him. No doubt Aemond had begun to pick up on your absence and it was hilarious to see. His worries and insecurities must've gotten the best of him because now you can't go anywhere without him trailing behind. He was always there, watching in silence, perhaps judging you but you did not care. The fact of the matter was, whatever you were doing was working.
"If you stare any longer I'm sure a fire will start to burn." Aegon says dryly from beside his brother, looking down at his empty chalice before placing it down all together. The elder rolled his eyes at the familiar 'hmmm' that escaped Aemond as he opens his mouth to say something but he turns mute. Instead he narrowed his eyes at the sight.
Contrary to popular belief, Aegon was not a complete fucking asshole. Well... sometimes he wasn't... He sensed his brothers discomfort greatly and although he didn't want to pry, he wanted to know what laid within the inner workings of Aemond's mind. Call it care or intrigue, but he loved gossip like an old widowed wife. Fact of the matter was, Aegon Targaryen was painful self aware and it didn't take much to figure out that Tyrin Lannister was him in lions clothing. Of course Tyrin was him if he actually tried and excelled at things. His drunken habits aside, he wanted to know why his sister in law was so taken by him with golden hair....
"He looks like me..." Aegon turns to his brother only to notice him swiftly walking away at his words. He turns to the man once more, brows pulling in contempt. Maybe he should have been born a Lannister....
To say that Aemond was irritated was an understatement. It was all so ridiculous. The fact that you were throwing yourself so carelessly for a man such as that imbecile. All Lannisters were dazzling armors with nothing truly potent inside. They were blinded by shine and glimmer just as much as everyone else was from their looks. He wouldn't admit it out loud but the resemblance Ser Tyrin had to his brother was uncanny. And he wouldn't dare admit that these unbecoming feelings were derived from that fact alone. Call Aemond what you will, a bitter husband, a possessive man, but he did not like what was playing out in front of him.
Over the passing weeks you had devoted your attention to that man and him alone. From the moment you awoke you were dressed in red and gold, throughout the day you were by his side. He no longer saw you and you no longer sought for his attention. He thought it'd be nice, to finally get you off his back but everyday he grows increasingly impatient. Were you not his wife? He knows he doesn't have a proper claim over you especially with how he's been acting but he still owned his emotions. And he was allowed to feel however he wanted to. Although he doesn't speculate any infidelity from your end, mainly because you weren't the type in his eye, it was plain that you were taken by a lion. Whether you knew it or not, you were dancing with a beast and Aemond would not take such defeat.
In all honesty, he's certain you aren't fucking Tyrin. Now perhaps that was just wishful thinking fueling his denial but you weren't exactly the type. All your marriage he's known you as nothing but dull... The perfect embodiment of who his parents wanted him to marry. Kind, respectable, a push over... In his opinion you were devoted to a fault. Seeing you as nothing but mindless doll who had no other choice but to fall in line and agree with whoever owned them. Hence why when seeking companionship he purposely chose some the exact opposite of you. Alys was older by a few years and had all the experience he craved. It was no question why that he sought for her instead of you. Word around the castle was that you were thought to be too pious to succumb to sins of temptation unless duty was in order.
He hadn't meant to grow so attached to Alys but she was exhilarating. Everytime they were apart he yearned for her body. She was captivating and alluring in all senses, intoxicating him. With long brown hair and a figure that could make the gods envious, she held him with a death grip. His Alys. Aemond knew that what he had with her wasn't love but more so addiction, but he didn't care what it was just as long as he got to have more of it. The differences between you and Alys were stark to see, you were at polars end. But what drawned him to her was the fact that she was so aware of her touch. He liked women that knew how to wield a weapon, and he quite honestly couldn't picture you doing the same. They called her many names for her beauty, searing her as a witch for her dominion over man.
If he wanted an enchantress you would give it to him. You would be better than Alys in every way imaginable. If he wanted someone who can satisfy him then you would drive him into the brink of madness with your touch. You wanted to suffocate and flush out Aemond Targaryen till he was no more than a shell. It started off slow. Switching your clothing in favor of another, something more hugging and accentuating. Your old gowns so colorful and modest were now replaced with darker tones that showed off your body well. It was an odd switch but you felt more comfortable this way strangly enough.
Then you traded innocent stares for something more bidden, your once doe eyes turning siren as you realize the effects of you had. Perhaps Aemond cheating on you was a blessing in disguise. You only now realize how good it felt to be wanted. All throughout court, men and women a like would fall in line for you. They would bow if you commanded so. You looked like someone to be taken seriously and not so much like a walking virtue. Everytime you entered a room eyes would be on you, the silent respect your new aura demanded was intoxicating. You knew who you were and what you were capable of, it was time for them now to know too.
It was empowering. You felt Immortal and unchallenged. To have them speak so nervously to you, the shy stares and permanent blushes. Your new change had prompted many curiosities but what captures people so was your attitude. Cunning, sly and quick witted, all the aspects of your being that you suppressed. You had never felt this in control all your life, like the tides were moved by your will.
All your life you've been taught to be one way despite your true wishes. You painted yourself as the image of what a lady was supposed to be without understanding why you were doing it. Or who you were doing it for. Perhaps this is why the change was so liberating, because you no longer chose to hide yourself. Maybe this was who you were all along and just needed a push to embrace it. You no longer felt like you were wearing a mask and truthfully you don't think you could ever put it on again. Not when they all doted around you. Not they all craved for you. Not when you had such power over desires.
They all fell into line... all but Aemond.... but you had something special for him. For now you let his judgment cloud him. You doubt that he's picked up on your facade faltering. It was quite strange to embrace the very values your teaching went against. Sensuality, unkept emotions, temptation. Having been guided to act one way only to realize that people yearned for the other more. To switch from being subdued to domineering. You no longer let people tell you what to do and how truly inebriating it was.
〄
"You are intoxicating...."
You know not how much time has passed, only consumed on Tyrin's lips as he grasped your body all over. Laughing when his teeth grazed your neck, you threw your head back in bliss. Maybe this was what the Septa was trying to keep you away from, the overwhelming sensations of sex. It rushes through you, sending your skin on fire in it's wake. God, he knew how to please you so. Giggling into your ear as his golden locks curtain the sinful things he whispered, Tyrin's fingers expertly yanks your skirt up. You let him pin you to the bed, a stupid smile spreading across your face. If such an act was so bad then why on earth did it feel so good?
How exhilarating it was to be desired, to be wanted and fondled with care. And to think, all this time you had spent rotting away in your bed chambers waiting for Aemond. If he would not satisfy you then you would satisfy yourself, fulfillment taking the form of a rogue lover. Perhaps it was messy to set your eyes on the men of the court but maybe that's what you wanted. You like the thrill of getting caught, liked the rumors that murmured through the halls. Although you hadn't slept with anyone but Tyrin, you couldn't contain yourself from teasing the occasional lord and lady. Naturally, word got around of your effects and of you and Tyrin's speculated affairs. And not so long after, word finally traveled to your dear stupid husband. Though it wasn't until he caught you in the middle of the act did he finally take it seriously. Up until this point they were but toothless claims, not believing his tight laced wife would ever be capable enough to find her own back bone.
"Faster.... faster..." You say through half lidded eyes, blurry vision locked onto the man in between your legs. Your fingers intertwined with his golden hair as you guide his head at your will. Body heaving and grinding up against his mouth. You pull at your skirts more to get a better view of his face.
All was falling into place and you would make your first strike as footsteps approached up the hall. You were nearing ecstasy as your eyes stay trained onto the door. You had perfectly timed everything and in a manner of seconds you would land such a blow so harsh that it would shatter Aemonds views of you. His boring and dull, obedient little wife coming undone by a man that was not him. You suppress a moan as Tyrin slips his middle finger in you, fucking you in and out as his lips wrap around your swollen clit. Almost there, almost there....
Oh it was all too much yet not enough at the same time. It floods you, sending you over the edge as you desperately grasp onto the bed covers. And at the sound of the door opening you let out a series of gasps turned moans as you lock eyes with the cause of your downfall. The look on his face was satisfaction enough, but you wanted more. Eyes closing in bliss as your head falls onto the bed, a laugh so sinister rings through the room. You pull your skirt over to hide your exposed skin as you smile up at Tyrin. Drawing him close to place a long loving kiss on his lips, you nod your head out the door, whispering empty promises of later. Aemond watches the whole exchange, mouth clenched and fists balled. As the man walked past him and out the door Aemond had to physically stop himself from mauling him and setting him on fire.
There was no doubt about it, he was angry. Shaking in place much like you had in your seat weeks ago. He didn't know what these emotions were blossoming in his chest but he didn't like it. It burned in a way so violent he fears that a hole may form in his chest. He does nothing for a few moments, simply standing in place eyeing you like a predator to it's prey. You do the same, putting all your body weight on your elbow as you laid on the bed unmoving. If he expected a stream of desperate apologies to fall from your mouth then he was not going to get it. You looked at eachother with much venom and alcohol. The gratification you got coursed through you as the image he had witnessed stayed forever burned in his brain.
Good. You wanted him to remember that forever. Much like you'll remember his actions towards you for eternity. Suddenly you were angry. Angry at him, angry at his fucking Alys, angry at Ser Larys. Snarling in hate as your gaze hardens you force yourself to speak.
"Get out." The words were cold, and for a moment Aemond flinches as it echoed through the walls. He does what you command, harshly shutting the door behind him and you fall onto the bed once more.
What had you done?
You were getting even. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't have provoked you first. Truthfully, you didn't know what scared you more, the fact that you could have potentially ruined your marriage or how absolutely addicting it was to inflict pain onto him. One things for certain though, you weren't done.
Aemond didn't know what to feel. He was a mess of emotions, lashing out at anything and everything in his way. A part of him knew that this was only fair yet why did it hurt him so bad? He thought he didn't care about you, thought you were a mere pawn in this game but it appeared that all this time you were playing him. All of it is a mystery to him as he begins to think on your relationship more. What parts of you were actually real, which was really you and which was his wife? Were your affections for him true and had he hurt you so? All this time he thought you were playing a role, or maybe you were. Because the girl laying on that bed laughing like the stranger was not his wife.
No, she was a demon. A succubus getting off on his pain. All of it is so confusing, the bruises you left dragging him down into the depths. Yet why did it excite him a little... Watching you like that.... Aemond feels as though he couldn't breathe, the remaining fragments of his heart shriveled at the thought of falling victim to weakness. He would not allow this, he wouldn't allow a man like Tyrin Lannister to best him and steal you away. The sorrow he felt was akin to an old friend, the bittersweetness that plagued his soul reminded him of his youth. This was a feeling he promised himself he would never endure again. The feeling of being less than and not enough. He had failed you. He had failed you so bad that you had to go seeking for another. Now he knew that he was being a hypocrite on that but he was vulnerable.
Being vulnerable was not something Aemond Targaryen was used to.
〄
"You aren't to see him again." Aemond yelled, trailing after the girl as you entered your shared chambers. The space thankfully empty as you ignored his impending attitude. Your breath quickens as you find yourself caught in a rather unpleasant situation. It had been merely an hour since that gurly sight with Ser Tyrin Lannister, and Aemond finds himself losing all remaining composure he had left with you.
"Huh?" There was something rather vexing about your tone that proved to be daggers in Aemond's ears. The way you expressed such profound boredom and taciturn, as if this conversation was an inconvenience to you. You displayed an tired exposure that puzzled him to no end because the confrontation has yet to begin. Your slack demeanor and annoyed undertone was both riddling and infuriating to Aemond.
"Ser Tyrin Lannister, you aren't allowed to see him again!" Deciding to forgo any avoidance, Aemonds tone was cut clean. He told you how it was, and he did not care about preserving feelings when you were showing such childish behavior. You would either accept never seeing that man, or any man for that matter again, or Aemond would turn to more extreme measures.
"Well... who knew it was possible to evoke such emotions from you. And here I thought you were incapable." Aemond's eye widen in shock as you put on an uncharacteristic display of theatrics. You scoffed and silently berated him with your inflection. This was a side of you he's never seen before. It was a tiny probe that was meant to provoke him by angling into his worries in a brash and unnecessary way. Aemond didn't know whether or not you were intentionally trying to anger him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care if it was deliberate or not.
"...I beg your pardon?" His words wry and barren with any emotions, genuinely taken aback.
"Well then kneel and start begging." You turn to him sharply, backing him against the door as he looked down at you in shock, yet you don't back down.
"You can't tell me what to do. But if you wish to keep believing that you have some sort of power over me, I will try my best to be more discreet with my partners." You wave your hand at him, as if done with this conversation but he was far from finished.
"I will not have you acting like a whore y/n! You are my wife and mine alone!" Aemond did not mean to call you that but as the words slip from his lips he soon finds himself regretting it. Watching the way you hesitated for a moment, a flash of hurt gleaming on your face before turning angry. He knew men have called their wives much worse but not him. His mother had always made sure he knew how to treat women. If only she knew how that back fired...
A whore....
He thought that you were a whore......
Normally you wouldn't let such meaningless words effect you so but that was exactly it, it wasn't meaningless. Not when it came from the mouth of the person you once thought the world of. Aemond used to be everything to you, and to hear that coming from him was disheartening to no end. Yes you knew that he was just angry because you pushed him so, but that fact became irrelevant as you begin to feel claustrophobic from your emotions. You felt frail, burning with a thick blanket of insecurities and rage constricting you, like a greedy serpent, ready to prey and corrupt you whole. You felt like Alice, falling into a dark rabbit hole of anxiety and panic, despair beginning to pull you down. It was all too much, and you suddenly began to feel so small. Your once defiance now subdued and replaced with the image of a shaking girl maddened. You felt afraid... not of Aemond but of your emotions...
Compose yourself, you were not going allow such disrespect and you were not going to fall into your old ways again.
"Don't play the fool, Aemond. You started this. Quite honestly what did you think was going to happen?" You yelled firmly in his face, trying so hard to push your emotions away. But thoughts of Alys tainted your mind. He would never speak to her this way. He would never act this way around her. You let the bitterness hug and empower you. The same need to hurt him reignited.
"I am simply playing the game that you started." You were reticent but in a prolix and unnecessary way. You would not reveal that he had hurt you so. Aemond opens his mouth to say something but doesn't for a few moments.
"What prompted this change..." He sounded desperate, his words breaking as he desperately searched for an answer.
"I don't know! Maybe now I don't feel the need to hide behind a mask anymore." You say to him honestly. This need for revenge and affinity for spite and pettiness, it had always been there. Aemond just didn't look at you long enough to notice it.
"I'm tired Aemond. I'm tired of doing my best to please you only for it to not be good enough!"
It wasn't just about you or Aemond being possessive anymore, it was the fact that you had reached your end. Was it so wrong to want a partner that actually loved and cared for you? Was it so wrong to want to be loved? The more you thought the more empty and hollow you felt. You can feel your soul decaying all together as anxiety crept up on you. He didn't want you.... The little voice in your head spoke. He thinks Alys is better than you..... stop... Why do you try so bad? because I must... You don't deserve to be with him... yes I do... No you don't... The voices in your head taunted, feeling feverish and flushed, you took a step back from Aemond. Suddenly afraid to be too close to him. But it did no help to calm the mean words the whirlwind through your brain. It picked at you, in a way that the thought of Alys couldn't but funny enough it was the personification of her plaguing your mind.
He doesn't think you're good enough...
I don't think you're good enough...
He doesn't think you're good enough...
We don't think you're good enough...
It's not just her anymore, the voice that invades your head is your parents speaking to you..... Then it's the King and Queen screaming... And after that it's Aegon and Helaena laughing at you...
It's Aemond talking down to you, —it's everything, it's everyone, all at once, all-consuming, suffocating and demanding. And suddenly the ability to hear is ripped from you; it's nothing. You're forced into a pliable mass being sullied, your body isn't yours anymore. It's a vessel of flooding anxiety and negative thoughts.
"I want somebody that loves me...." You say, looking at the man with such betrayal.
Be strong....
"I want a happy life with a husband that can actually stand to be in my presence. I want children of my own to fill the hole you left." You spoke after a short minute, your voice small and fragile, pleading... Aemond watches you shake and cry from where you stand. He had done this to you...
"I have spent so long loving you but that love has never served me..." Your words were soft, a timbre of spite concealed with broken confidence. You hated this... hated how you got in your own head and ruined your own self esteem... Pain feeding off your scorched heart and the embers of your love for Aemond. It was agonizing... agonizing to watch him look at you cry like this. But perhaps he needed to see you this way.
He had hurt you so badly and the moment he finally got a taste of his own medicine he ordered you to stop. It was the consuming fear of not being enough for him that killed you so, the thought of not being able to live up to the expectations. And for Aemond to stand there and call you a whore when all you ever did was try to love him.
"Forgive me my dear wife... I did not know that you have been suffering so badly all this time. Had I known...." He softens for a moment, trying to get you to understand whilst failing to consider that you didn't need to, he did.
"But you did! You knew and you still went off in search for something I cannot give you. Had you have known would it have changed anything?" You scream in broken anger and despair.
"No..."
You never learn, hearing it in your own head was a lot different than hearing it out loud. It will never be the same, it will always be ten times worse. Aemond had just confirmed your words. Of course you knew that he thought this way but it hurt a lot more. Just like that night with Ser Larys. Your shoulders slump in defeat, frowning as tears began to prick at your eyes. Aemond takes notice of this, swiftly cupping your cheeks with his large hands and forcing you to look him.
"No, because either way you would have been discontent. I cannot give you the life that you wanted." Yet you can give it to her?
"Why not!?" You yelled with such anger and rage, ripping his hands off you. Your voice echoing through the room as you cussed the boy out. You were frustrated beyond measure and above all else heartbroken. Was it truly too much to ask for? You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having him treat you like this. Maybe weeks ago you would've swoon at the thought of his hands caressing you. But that was then and this was now.
"I am not made for love..." You fear that you can slay Vhagar with the great efforts it takes you now to remain calm. That was his excuse? A pitiful one at that. He had you standing there.... sad and broken... and all he can come up with was that love wasn't in his nature? Pain is the perfect word to describe this sensation oppressing your chest at those words. This doesn't stop you from peering up at him in question. You felt a calling to yell at him but you couldn't, no matter how badly you wanted to you. Staying baffled, every cry dying in the back of your throat. Your visage contorting in somber at Aemonds blasphemy.
"I don't believe you!" You yell at him, pushing at his chest when he tries to hug you. You break down in his arms, collapsing onto the floor as you weep into him. Aemond desperately held you close, oh what has he done to you.... He felt a myriad of emotions wash over him. Guilt, sadness, shame... He was ashamed he pushed you to this point. So he held the woman he barely knew well enough to call his wife.
"Tell me Aemond! Does your heart belong to another? Tell me now, please and I'll stop." You didn't know what you meant by stop. Stop trying? Stop loving? But if he said the words you would end it so. Aemond looks down at you, hugging onto the portrait that was once his wife.
"No! No one has captured my heart, those who came second to you, they mean nothing. They are nothing..." He says quickly, his words ringing truthful. He didn't know what prompted this new change but he panicked at the thought of losing you.
"Prove it to me." You whispered slowly. Uttering the words in a tone so cold and firm, your gaze locks onto Aemond's. Your wide eyes morphing into something else as a small smirk pulls at your lips. Distraught gone from your face as the water flow of tears halt.
"Bring me the head of Alys Rivers."
"How do you know..." He looks at you in shock for a moment, your expression ridden of distress and replaced with something sinister.... Watching his expression carefully, you place your hands on his shoulders and leaned into his ear.
"Do it and I will be yours again." It came out as a pur, a tempting whisper urging him, and Aemond found himself liking the way it sounded. That was Aemond's cord. He was as possessive as he was jealous. Much like you, he didn't like being second to anyone, but would that be enough. Turning your head to meet his gaze, it would be so easy to kiss you but he keeps a firm hold on your waist.
"If not then I will take it myself." Nodding your head briefly, you remove his arms from around you. Standing up, you walk over to your shared bed, wiping away the rogue tears before sitting down. Aemond's brows furrowed in confusion, you were much more composed now and hidden behind your eyes was a sense of coldness.
"It appears that I have much to learn about you my lovely wife. But If it will please you then as you wish." Aemond stands soon after you, nodding his head as he planned to make amends.
"You're willing to kill her just like that?" Turning your head to him slightly, you questioned where his loyalty lied.
"I told you she means nothing to me... Did you think otherwise?" His sly expression displayed a certain vainglory that caused you to turn away. So maybe you had thought otherwise but your insecurities had to come from somewhere.
"If you're lying to me Aemond I will have your other eye." Threatening may not be the answer but you liked the hesitancy it triggered from him.
"I suppose this is my fault.... you don't trust me." Nodding his head as he walked slow steps towards you, Aemond kneels down in front of the bed and takes your hands in his.
"You have given me every reason not to trust you." With a stiff lip, you turn from him.
"I know... But let me make it right." Guiding your chin with his fingers to make you look at him, you noticed a hint of regret and shame swimming in his eye.
"The road to forgiveness will not be easy." You tell him firm.
"I know... my love." You ignore the butterflies that awoke from that title and watch as he rose to grab his riding coat. And so it begins...
༺━━━━━━━━━༻༒༺━━━━━━━━━༻
Autho's Note:
Let me know if you guys want more! There's more to this story but I chopped it up into two parts because I wasn't done and I wanted to have something out for you guys. I swear to god I drop fics unannounce then dissappear for months lmao.
- Armoni
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond smut#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond imagine#aemond one eye#aemond scenario#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen fluff#prince aemond#aemond fluff#aemond the kinslayer#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen angst#aemond angst#aemond and alys#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen scenarios#aemond x you#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#helaena targaryen#alys rivers#hotd aemond#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon#hotd imagine#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
bewitched.
AEMOND TARGARYEN X FEM!READER
summary: more word has arrived to you regarding your husbands infidelity. as he returns to you, you present him with a choice.
word count: 2k
warnings: drinking. strong language. angst. adultery. pain.
a/n: see end of the piece for author’s note
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
choose your own ending...
— ending 1.
— ending 2.
— ending 3.
— ending 4.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
“My lady,” Your chambermaid spoke from the doorway, returning with a fresh pitcher of wine as you had requested, “Should I see the children to bed?”
“Please do,” Your voice was soft, the words fragile in your solemn state.
“It might be best for you to rest, rather than await the return of Prince Aemond.”
Her words were gentle, simply advising you to take care of yourself. But the fires of hurt and betrayal were already lit.
“What makes you believe that I am awaiting my husband?” With words more venomous than you intended, you bid her leave.
At the sound of the door shutting, you stood and moved toward the pitcher and chalice left idly by the fireplace. You poured the deep red liquid and lifted the cup to your lips, taking a generous gulp. The dull burn allowed some relief to your heightened senses. But you also knew that the alcohol only added fuel to your fire.
Rain began to pour over King’s Landing, softly thudding against the windows and stone of the castle walls. Usually, the rain would lull you to sleep, but it seemed the thunder of the skies only spurred you to continue drowning away the ache in your heart. Your eyes flickered over the second chalice that had been placed on the silver tray with your pitcher. It seemed that the servants expected Aemond to return to the Keep tonight. You were not sure if you wish for him to return or for him to drown in the heavy rains that poured from the sky.
As if the fool perfectly timed you, you glanced out the window to see the silhouette of Vhagar descending toward the Dragon Pits. In a drunken frenzy, you pulled the curtain to cover it, instead, the velvet fabric came down at your harsh tug.
The frustration would nearly boil over, but you did not allow the simple issues to push you over the threshold. As the Queen had often advised you, it was important that a lady bite her tongue and keep her composure even when she is by her lonesome. If someone saw the illusion of a proper lady shatter, it would be nearly impossible to recover from. She even revealed to you how she had come by this knowledge, sharing with you the events that occurred the night Aemond became the one-eyed prince.
Swiftly, you moved back toward the fireplace, picking up the parcel that a raven had delivered directly to you just this morning. It appeared blank to the simple eye, but when you hovered the note over the fire, the message revealed itself. The contents of it were simple, but completely shattered something inside of you:
She is with child.
Though the news had shocked you, the existence of the other woman did not. When Aemond and Daeron laid siege to Harrenhal and the Riverlands, word had traveled through the courts regarding the princes bedding other women. At the time, you had bit your tongue, excusing your husband’s infidelity as you convinced yourself it was just something he used to relieve his stress from battlefields.
But even after the marches through the Riverlands were claimed to be successful and at an end, Aemond would sometimes fly off to Harrenhal. He would say that he was just ensuring the hold that the Greens had on the region, yet you never believed his lies.
It was said that Harrenhal was cursed, blood mixed into the stone that built it. You believed the stories true after the great fire took the lives of Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin when you were a child yourself. But now a curse had attached itself to your husband and kept him crawling back to the towers of Harrenhal.
The door cracked open, the hinges creaking as he entered, exhaustion painted over his face. Aemond was completely drenched, his hair now scrunched into waves rather than falling perfectly straight. Most of his leather overlayer had been discarded for the servants to see to, leaving him in a black tunic and pants with his riding boots.
It took him a few moments, but Aemond quickly came to realize that you were resting by the fire rather than fast asleep in your shared bed.
“Should you not be sleeping, dear wife?” Aemond called out to you while readying himself to turn into bed.
“Sleep has… escaped me recently,” You replied, eyes remaining on the fire. Only at his words did the nerves begin to spur inside you. How would he react when you told him? What would tomorrow bring? None of it really mattered, you supposed, as long as you didn’t allow your nerves to get the best of you.
Now in his proper bedclothes, Aemond began to approach the fireplace. He noticed the half-empty pitcher of wine, slightly shocked that you were partaking this late at night. Usually, you would reserve yourself to only enjoying wine at dinners or feasts, not in your marriage chambers. His eye flickered to the second chalice that sat empty on the silver platter. His slender fingers reached to grasp it, “Would this cup be for me?”
You turned your head, looking between the pitcher and chalice but never into his eye, “The maid brought it with her, probably as a formality. No one expected you back tonight.”
Aemond’s brow furrowed at the tone you spoke with, and it caught the prince off guard when you returned your gaze to the fire rather than continuing to speak with him. He poured his own chalice with wine and allowed himself to enjoy it. He stayed in place, unwavering from his position as he looked down on you.
The air went still… the taste of the wine began to sour in his mouth. He sensed something to be out of place, yet he could not pinpoint it. Usually, you would be elated to see him, but recently you were far more reserved from your husband. Aemond was not sure if he should be upset or concerned, but did not ponder on the thought too much as he allowed himself to attend to his duties rather than his wife.
With a sigh and a light cough to clear his throat, the prince finally spoke once more, “Come to bed…”
The pause settled again before your soft chuckle hung in the air. Quickly, you stood from your seated position and drowned the remainder of your chalice in one swig. You moved to the table and refilled your cup till the pitcher ran dry. Instead of crossing to your bed, you remained standing, only turned away from the man. This behavior caused Aemond to clench his jaw, subduing his urge to correct such disobedience.
“Will you not come to bed with me?” Aemond summoned you again.
Once more you chuckled at him, not sparing him any sort of look from you. Just the cruel chuckle of your acknowledgment.
“Your husband demands—”
“My husband demands me of nothing,” You interrupted him, “And he would do well to find another bed to sleep in or find himself in tonight.”
At your words, Aemond crossed toward you, attempting to snatch the half-drunk chalice of wine from your hands, “It seems you have overindulged yourself. It would do you well to sleep before—”
“Before what? Before I continue to act out of turn?” With a fierce determination, your fingers clutched down onto the chalice so that Aemond could not separate it from you. Your words dripped with poison, “Or before you return to Harrenhal and bed the whore witch?”
At the mention of Alys, both you and Aemond let go of the goblet at the same time and simply watched it fall to the ground, red liquid covering the tile floors.
“It would do you well not to speak of things you do not know or understand.”
“I understand it quite plainly that my husband is now an adulterer, just like his eldest brother and his damned uncle. It seems that disloyalty to marriage is quite a common trait among Targaryen men.”
Quickly, Aemond’s hand came to your throat, gripping the flesh to show how serious he was being, yet not hard enough to asphyxiate you, “Did you not understand my words before, my stupid little wife? It would do you well not to speak of things you do not know…”
“Oh? But I do know…” Your hands grabbed at his forearms, nails sinking into the flesh so that he would release you, “And it would do you well to learn just how smart your wife is…”
“I have known… I have known about Alys since your first rampage through the Riverlands. For moons, I remained confined to the Red Keep from your orders, and when they came to deliver news of you and your victories, I cheered. I still cheered when the maids told me the rumors between you and Alys, because I was grateful to the Seven that you were alive. Because I was still foolish enough to love you far more than you deserve.”
Tears threatened to spill over, but you swallowed them back. You would not allow Aemond the pleasure of your tears, only the fire of your anger.
“She promised me security for my life and the lives of my men,” Aemond attempted to justify himself, “I could not risk it—”
“You could have offered her gold, offered her a title, or anything else besides your body! Instead, you break your vows. And you did not stop there, because you continue to fly back to Harrenhal whenever you desire the witch’s cunt to the point where your son and daughter could not even recognize you if they ever saw you!” You huffed out, scanning his face for any sign of emotion, anything at all.
“You have allowed your lust to overcome you, disappointing your wife, your mother, and the Seven. Worst of all, you shall now have your own bastard. At least this bastard will not be raised of the Street of Silk as your brother’s bastards have.”
“How did you know?” Aemond’s voice cracked while he asked the question, “How do you know she is pregnant?”
A smirk played on your lips at the question, “It seems that the Master of Whispers is a very devoted friend of the Queen, and with the Queen being your mother, she deemed it important enough to share the news with me, your faithful wife.”
His face went pale at the realization of how many people were aware of his infidelity. While Aemond remained silent, you twisted the knife deeper into his chest. You had been tortured with this knowledge for so long that you now enjoyed the pained expression on his face.
“I have always been good to you, devoted to you. Where others cowered from you, I loved you. Despite the warnings of your blood lust and deformity, I loved you and gave you two perfect children who study just as diligently as you once did. So while you found yourself in the arms of another woman, I tried not to curse your name and assure our children that all was well, even if their father would not be present for them. But now, I look at you like a curse upon my life. You have allowed yourself to be corrupted outside our marriage, and I can no longer offer you salvation for your selfishness…”
“What would you have me do?”
You laughed mockingly at his question. Instead of providing a proper answer, you only glared further into his good eye.
“Please,” Aemond gritted his teeth, hating that he allowed himself to beg an answer from you, “Just tell me what I should do!”
“I can not simply tell you what to do. That would be to easy - what lesson would you have learned?” You shook your head and a shuddering breath escaped you.
“You have to make a choice, Aemond,” Your hand gripped his wrist, forcing him to remain attentive to your words, “Either you atone for the sin your committed and the hurt you’ve caused or you reside in Harrenhal for the rest of your days…”
“This is a choice only you can make — a wife or a witch?”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
a/n: I am considering making a follow-up to this one-shot, a blurb about the outcome of the options that Aemond has... maybe...
#mattie writes#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen x reader#hotd#hotd x reader#prince aemond targaryen#aemond x fem!reader#aemond targaryen imagine#hotd angst#alys rivers#aemond targaryen x wife!reader#aemond targaryen x alys#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon aemond#Aegon II Targaryen#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen one shot
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kiddo
Chapter one
Kiddo masterlist
English is not my first language, be kind.
Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader
•Chapter warnings: beginning of the obsession•
As Aemond sat at the bar during his lunch break, his colleagues from the bank company gathered around him, chatting and laughing.
It was a family company, but nothing was given off out of nepotism. He had earned it. And he earned it fucking wonderfully.
He had studied in the best schools, yes, but he had been dedicated as no one could.
His father took him to work there when he was twenty-two, then he took his degree.
He worked wonders in the company, success after success. Not that his father ever applauded him anything. It was just his job to be a good employee.
He acknowledged his success, that he did. That was the reason why when his father started to get seriously sick, he named Aemond his successor.
Because he was fucking good at what he did.
Then, it happened. His father died, and the company fell into his hands.
CEO at thirty years old.
These types of bar were not something Aemond usually frequented. He likes places more… quiet, personal. He only came because his colleagues, or well, his employees suggested it with enthusiasm.
“Keep good relationships. You have to be present in the company, for them to trust and respect you. They’ll see how much you work and they’ll never doubt a word of yours.”
Despite the jovial atmosphere, Aemond remained aloof, his icy demeanor never faltering.
"So, Aemond, how's the Martel project coming along?" asked Marcus, a fellow executive, taking a sip of his drink.
Aemond shrugged nonchalantly. "It's progressing as expected." he replied in his usual monotone voice. "Nothing worth getting excited about."
Marcus chuckled. "Always the stoic one, aren't you? You should loosen up a bit, enjoy the small victories."
Aemond raised an eyebrow. "I'll leave the celebrations to those who find them worthwhile." He said curtly.
Across the table, Emily, another colleague, leaned in with a playful smirk. "Come on, Aemond, don't tell me you're immune to the charms of success." She teased, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
Aemond's lips curled into a slight smirk, the closest thing to a smile he ever showed. "Success is fleeting," He replied cryptically. "I prefer to focus on the long game."
The conversation continued, with Aemond contributing sparingly, his responses always measured and guarded. He listened intently to his colleagues' chatter, but there was a distance in his eyes, as if he were observing from afar rather than fully engaging.
Despite his detached demeanor, there was an undeniable aura of authority and confidence that surrounded Aemond. He commanded respect without ever having to demand it, his presence alone enough to make those around him sit up a little straighter.
“Aspect, composure, and attitude are the key.”
As the conversation turned to other topics, Aemond remained in his own world, a silent observer amidst the lively banter of his colleagues. For him, the bar was just another backdrop in the intricate dance of corporate life, a place where he could observe and strategize, always one step ahead of the game.
As he perused the menu of the pub, a sense of disappointment washed over him. The offerings seemed basic and uninspired compared to the elegant plates he was accustomed to in high-end restaurants.
As he reluctantly considered his options, he couldn't help but long for the sophistication and refinement of the restaurants he frequented. The thought of settling for a mediocre meal in a dingy pub left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He ordered a basic plate of pasta, hoping it wouldn’t suck too much.
He glanced around the bustling pub, filled with lively conversations and clinking glasses, he thought that perhaps there was more to the dining experience than just the food itself. Maybe, just maybe, he could find enjoyment in the simple pleasures of good company and convivial atmosphere, even if the cuisine didn't quite meet his lofty standards.
He looked at his employees around the table.
What a lie.
He liked being alone, he liked to stay away from people.
He sighed silently and scanned the pub, people standing or sitting everywhere, with a beer in their hands, laughing out loud, it almost gave him a headache. He drifted his gaze to a group of young girls that just walked inside. They were laughing in such a high pitched tone it was so annoying. They were all dressed too provocative for their age, probably hoping to look older in order to buy some alcohol.
Stupid kids.
They could barely walk on those heels, they looked horrendous, even if they acted like they were on top of the world. One of the group of girls looked at him and she immediately straightened up her composure, trying to evidence her curves.
Aemond felt like throwing up.
The girl laughed when he averted his gaze for a minute, looking behind her. He followed her gaze, and he saw her, a couple of steps behind the whole group, there was another girl, dressed in a skirt long to her knee, and a cardigan. There weren’t heels at her feet but old stan smith, she wasn’t wearing much makeup, just some mascara and gloss on her lips, that made them sparkle under the light, making them look soft, plumb, ready to be bitten.
Her hair tied up in a half ponytail, her hair coming down in soft waves. She clinged to her backpack strap like it was her life savior. She must have been… sixteen? Maybe seventeen, and she looked like it, despite her friends. Her friends only looked ridiculous.
She walked in a shy demeanor, her legs almost shining over the light that came from the door of the pub. Her thighs swayed one against each other, making all of her skin move in waves. They looked so soft, the perfect shape to grab them tightly and-
“Here’s your pasta.” The waitress said to him, as she placed the plate in front of him. He hummed and nodded, as she gave him a smirk and went away. He didn’t even bother to look at the waitress' body as she walked away. He went back to the little girl, but he found her looking back at him.
She softly, gently smiled at him, shyly.
She smiled.
Aemond didn’t smile back, and she immediately looked away, running to her friends. Her breasts jumped up and down at every step she took towards the bar, her hair moving around her face.
She was beautiful. Perfect.
He coughed and finally looked away from her. He felt like she put a spell on him. He felt drawn to her.
God he looked like a pervert.
The girl was only sixteen, half his age.
What the fuck was wrong with him?!
He groaned and rubbed his temple, looking down at his plate, grabbing the fork and taking a bite.
Tasteless. Fucking tasteless.
“Marcus, stop staring at them, they could be your daughters!” He heard one of his employees say, laughing. Aemond immediately looked at him… Kyle? Then at Marcus, seeing him looking at the group of girls he saw before.
Don’t you dare look at her.
Marcus looked up and down the girls, smirking to his colleague.
“You can look at those, I don’t even know what the other girl is.” He laughed.
Don't talk about her.
Aemond clenched his hand on the fork, as both Marcys and Kyle turned to look at the girls again, drawing the attention of other colleagues as well. Aemond took a deep breath, closing his eye and leaning his head down.
I will kill you.
“Marcus, I heard the Lannister complaining about some work that has been done for them.” Aemond spoke, raising his glance at him, as he sat comfortably back on the chair.
The most uncomfortable chair he has ever sat on.
Marcus looks at him, surprised, and he immediately lowers his eyes.
“Uhm… yeah, they’re not really good at explaining what they want, you know? I made some mistakes, but I immediately fixed them when they noticed.”
“Mistakes?” He questioned further, taking another bite of his pasta, leaning back forward.
“Yeah, but nothing serious… Everything's alright now.” Marcus quickly added.
“Mh.” He only answered. He looked down at his silverwares, and he noticed the spoon was dirty.
Disgusting.
He sighed and looked towards the bar. The girls were still there. His girl was looking around the pub, her mind obviously somewhere else from her friend's conversation.
He shouldn’t do it.
He got up, excusing himself cordially to his employees, and walked away from his table.
He really shouldn’t.
He approached the bar, standing beside his girl. Her friends were giggling closed in a circle, she was more outside of it.
Were they really her friends?
Why the fuck did he care?
He twirled the spoon between his fingers, looking ahead of him as he waited for someone of the pub’s staff to consider him. Still he kept his ears well open.
“Y/N you should do it too!” One of the friends exclaimed, laughing. His girl looked at her, confused, but with a gentle face.
Y/N. He liked her name.
“What should I do?” She asked softly.
Her voice.
God, her voice.
Sweet, caring, gentle.
“Sammi maid. To earn some money, you need it, don’t you?” Her friend chuckled.
Bitch.
Aemond felt his anger rise in a second. They couldn’t be her friends. No. His girl tilted her head, confused.
“What is a Sammi maid?” She asked, so innocently. All of the girls laughed.
“Just… a maid. They just pay them more.” One of the girls explains.
Don’t.
“Might think about it, thank you.” His girl answered. She sounded embarrassed, her soft cheeks were probably red.
Don’t.
Aemond sighed and moved away, as finally, he saw a bartender coming to him.
“This spoon is dirty… and I know those girls are underage.” He handed the spoon and pointed at the group of girls, who were just asking for beers to another barman.
“Thank you, sir.” The barman took the spoon, and as he went to change it he whispered something to the other barman.
He saw the pissed expression of those girls and how they acted all offended. They quickly started to walk away but his girl was confused.
“I… I haven’t finished my cola…” She said weakly. One of the girls rolled her eyes at her.
“Whatever, Y/N stay here then.” She said, and all the group left. His girl was just staring at them surprised, as she stood there, alone.
He felt bad for her.
He wanted to hug her, console her. Kiss her.
What. The fuck. Was wrong. With. Him?!
He wanted her for himself. Never let anyone else touch her, speak to her, see her. He wanted her to be a prisoner in his arms. Why was he being so affectionate towards this girl? She was nothing he hadn't seen before. Yet he found himself rubbing his fingertips together, wanting to touch her, in any way she would let him.
“Here.” The bartender gave him back another spoon. He nodded and took it, so he turned to walk away, when he saw a necklace on the floor, next to her feet. He bent down, as she turned to him, surprised to see someone so close to her. Aemond stood up in front of her.
She was short. Shorter than him.
Her head was barely at the level of his shoulders. She looked at him, always gentle, soft, a hint of a smile on her face.
Her perfume. Sweet. Vanilla.
Her big eyes were staring at him. She looked so innocent.
He raised his hand with a necklace so she could see it. Her eyes sparkled when she noticed the necklace. She smiled broadly, and grabbed the necklace, putting her other hand over his.
“Thank you so much! I didn’t even notice it fell from my neck.” She looked at him, grateful. Aemond nodded back, even if his mind was trying to perfectly memorize the feeling of her touch. He looked at her hand, over his, her thumb moving slightly, as if to caress him.
He was a stranger to her, why was she being so nice and friendly? Was she like this with everyone?
He hoped not.
“Have a good day.” He said, nodding, turning to walk away, but she quickly put her hand in his arm, stopping him on track.
He had to put distance.
She had to stay away from him.
He didn’t know what was happening to him.
“Sorry… Would you mind helping me put the necklace on?” She smiled softly, her expression a mixture of hope and worry, she didn’t want to bother him. He shook his head and turned back towards her, as she gave him her back, giving him the necklace. He quickly puts it on her, and she immediately turns back to face him, smiling.
“Thank you. Again.” She chuckled. Aemond felt like smiling at her.
He didn’t.
He gave her another nod, as he walked away, back to his table.
Somehow, none of his employees seemed to have seen his interaction with his girl, and he was thankful for it. Especially because of how he felt his cock stiffen at the mere memory of her touch
#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#aemond x reader#aemond x you#modern aemond#aemond#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#prince aemond targaryen#house of the dragon aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond one shot#prince aemond#aemond targaryen angst#hotd aemond#dark aemond x reader#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd#house of the dragon#so hot 🔥🔥🔥
494 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blood of My Blood
Summary: Stuck between duty and passion, she is given no choice but to yield to the game Aemond wishes to play | Words: 4.1k~ | Warnings: a lot of talk of illegitimacy, hatefucking, dubcon, incest (character is implied to have strong features), p in v sex, baby trapping, forced marriage
Can be read as a stand-alone or as a part two for The Blood is Rare!
His fingers tightened around her arm, the pressure a mix of anger and possessiveness. He forcefully ushered her across the threshold of the chambers she once called home, back when she resided there alongside the Hightower children. The worn flagstones caused her feet to stumble, while her forearm throbbed with bruises from his grip. She shot him a glance filled with both hurt and fury.
“You cannot treat me like this,” she spat viciously.
Aemond merely stepped back, his expression unyielding. "You are to be my wife. I'll treat you as I please."
Before she could reach the double doors, they slammed shut, brass fixtures rattling as Aemond hastened to secure her inside. Despite her feeble attempts to push back against the doors, her fists bruised from the effort, he locked her in without hesitation.
“They will come for me!” she screamed in protest, “unlock this, at once!”
Locked within the confines of the chamber, her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and defiance. She paced the room, her mind racing with thoughts of escape and retribution. Outside, the distant echoes of footsteps and murmured voices hinted at the presence of guards or servants, but she knew she couldn't rely on them for help.
King Viserys was dead. And Alicent Hightower planted her son on her mother’s throne.
As the hours dragged on, her frustration grew with each passing moment. She tried every possible means of escape, but the sturdy oak doors remained firmly shut, sealing her fate within the chamber. Her mind raced with thoughts of her family, of the kingdom thrown into turmoil by the sudden death of King Viserys. And now, with Aemond's revelation of his family's plan to anoint Aegon on the morrow, she realised the true extent of the danger she faced.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps echoing outside her prison. The door creaked open, and Aemond stepped into the room, his expression unreadable. She studied his face, and saw he looked slightly withered and tired, covered with a mask of coldness.
"We have much to discuss," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "But first, you must understand the gravity of the situation."
She eyed him warily, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do you mean?"
"Aegon will be crowned tomorrow," he explained, his tone solemn. "And my family has plans for us as well."
Her stomach churned with dread as she listened to his words. "What plans?"
"A marriage," he said simply, his gaze unwavering. "In the traditions of our ancestors, to solidify our alliance and secure our place in the new realm."
Her mind reeled at the thought of marrying the man who had imprisoned her against her will. But she knew that in the game of thrones, alliances were forged with marriages as much as with swords.
A tension-laden silence filled the chamber, thick with unspoken words and unyielding resolve. her heart pounded in her chest as she weighed her options, acutely aware of the consequences of her decision. The memory of their clandestine tryst, a moment of forbidden passion she dared not admit she had enjoyed, lingered in the recesses of her mind, adding an unexpected layer of complexity to the situation.
"I will not be your pawn," she said, her voice trembling with defiance.
A flicker of anger flashed across Aemond's face, but it was quickly replaced by a cold mask of indifference.
"You have no choice," he said icily. "You will marry me, for the good of our families and the realm. Just as Daeron will wed a Baratheon girl, to secure-"
She shook her head stubbornly, her resolve hardening with each passing moment. "I will not be forced into a marriage I do not want."
Aemond's gaze narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Do not be foolish, mandianna. You have a duty to your family, to the legacy of House Targaryen. You will marry me, and you will bear me heirs to secure our place in history."
But she refused to be swayed by his empty words. "I will not be your broodmare, and I will not be shackled to you for the rest of my days," she declared, her voice trembling with righteous indignation. "Not when you have already taken so much from me."
Aemond's expression darkened, his features contorted with anger. "Do not speak to me of what I have taken," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You gave yourself to me willingly, and now you will suffer the consequences."
She swallowed thickly, her pride blurring the edges of what she knew was the truth.
“He is no King of mine.”
A heavy silence settled over the chamber, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a shroud of defiance. Aemond's eye blazed with fury, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed as if he might shatter his teeth with the force of his anger. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them palpable. The threat of declaring treason hung heavy.
Finally, Aemond broke the silence, his voice cold and menacing. "You dare to defy me," he hissed, his words dripping with contempt. "You would betray your own blood, your own family, for the sake of your misguided principles?"
She met his gaze head-on, her chin lifted defiantly despite the tremble in her limbs. "I will not betray my mother," she declared, her voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at her insides. "You speak of blood after years of declaring me and my brothers alike your sole distaste.”
Aemond's nostrils flared with barely contained rage at her words, his eye narrowing into a slit as he took a step closer, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. "Do not presume to lecture me on matters of blood," he seethed, his voice a low growl that reverberated through the chamber. "You may share the blood of House Targaryen, but you lack the fire that defines our lineage."
“Careful, Uncle,” she whispered, her voice tinged with fury, “I am as much Targaryen as you.”
A flicker of doubt crossed Aemond's features, his gaze faltering for a moment before hardening once more into a mask of disdain. "You may share the name, but you lack the strength and resolve to wield it," he sneered, his words like a lash that cut through the air between them. "You are nothing but a weak, insignificant girl who fancies herself a dragon."
Her jaw tightened at Aemond's cutting words, her resolve hardening as she refused to let his insults diminish her spirit. "Strength is not defined by the size of one's flames, Uncle," she retorted, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her.
Aemond's lip curled in a mixture of anger and begrudging admiration. Despite himself, he couldn't deny the fire that burned within her, the same fire that had characterised the Targaryen bloodline for generations. "You have spirit, I'll give you that," he conceded, his voice low and grudgingly impressed. "But spirit alone will not save you from the realities of this world."
She held his gaze, her breath coming in short, shallow bursts as she felt the tension between them crackle like lightning in the air. Despite their antagonistic exchange, there was an undeniable chemistry that simmered just beneath the surface, a primal attraction that neither of them could ignore.
As if sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Aemond took another step closer, his eye darkening with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "You may defy me, niece," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "But deep down, you know that we are bound together by more than just blood and duty."
She felt her throat close up, her body betraying what she wanted him to believe about her. That she recoiled at the mere sight of him. That she could not bear to be within the same quarters. That she hated him.
And all of it was a lie.
She would not have given herself so freely to him in that darkened alcove if she truly loathed him. And yet her pride marred the truth.
“You will be my wife,” Aemond stated, his voice devoid of negotiation. It was a command, wrapped in the certainty of his position, a reflection of the harsh realities of their lineage and the role they played in the ongoing struggle for power.
Her reaction was a mix of defiance and disbelief. This was not the offer of a partner, but the demand of a prince used to being obeyed. Yet, even as the words hung in the air between them, she could not ignore the complex web of emotions that tied her to this man. There was no love in this arrangement, but there was something else—something harder to define.
“You speak of marriage as though it were another battle to be won. I am not spoils of war to be claimed.”
Aemond’s eye, ever so piercing, momentarily hardened, hinting at the turmoil beneath his princely facade. His hand flew out, gripping her jaw as he had done that steamy evening, clutching her skin in his long fingers - a warning.
“Come with me, willingly or not. It is your choice, niece.”
Her eyes locked onto his with a fierceness that could rival any dragon's gaze, attempting to sear his very soul with her stare. Yet, in defiance of the forceful hand upon her jaw, she wrenched herself free, her breathing heavy with indignation. The so-called choice he presented felt like a cruel jest, highlighting the absence of any real agency she possessed.
The machinations of the Greens had cornered her into this union with Aemond, rendering any thought of escape futile from the outset.
Their wedding was a somber affair, marked more by the exchange of solemn vows and cold, resentful looks than any semblance of joy or union. Throughout the ceremony, her thoughts wandered, detached from the grim proceedings. And when the final blessings were about to be pronounced, she turned abruptly, her last vestiges of defiance carrying her away to the solitude of her quarters.
The sense of betrayal that churned within her was overwhelming, a treachery not only to her mother's cause but to herself. The disappointment her family would feel loomed over her, a burden more oppressive than the iron crown could ever be.
Moreover, the realisation that this marriage was orchestrated merely to secure an heir, to bind her bloodline to Aemond's as a political safeguard against total war, was revolting.
Standing alone, she tried to steady her trembling hands by focusing on the wine cup she held, just as Aemond's footsteps halted behind her. She braced herself for an encounter she dreaded, yet his next words took her by surprise.
“I shall bid you goodnight,” he said simply.
She spun around, half-expecting to confront a man prepared to enforce his will regardless of her consent. Instead, she met his gaze and found something unexpected—a reflection of restraint and perhaps a hint of understanding.
In that moment, a complex array of emotions coursed through her, challenging her perceptions and forcing her to acknowledge the intricate layers of their predicament.
“I will not lay with you tonight. You do not wish it.”
Her guard, so meticulously maintained, began to falter at the honesty in his words. "And what of tomorrow?" she asked, a tinge of cynicism threading her question. "When the sun rises, will your sense of duty not dictate our interactions?”
"It likely will," he conceded, the corners of his mouth turning down in a grimace. "But tonight, you've had enough battles to face. I won't add to them."
The silence that fell between them was filled with a tentative understanding, a fragile thread connecting two individuals caught in the crossfire of political machinations and familial obligations.
Yet, she was acutely aware that Aemond was not a mere bystander in the unfolding of these events. And it would be a mistake for him to assume she would quietly acquiesce to their circumstances.
Throughout the following day, Aemond's absence hung over her like a shadow, his presence felt more in his lack than in actuality. The dread of uncertainty twisted in her stomach, her mind conjuring scenarios that left her restless and wide-eyed, staring at the chamber doors until the early hours. The knowledge of her new status as his wife did nothing to ease her apprehension. It only highlighted her vulnerability, the potential for him to assert his marital rights in a way that robbed her of any semblance of control.
Yet, despite her fears, Aemond remained absent, his intentions opaque, leaving her to grapple with the anxiety of anticipation alone. The silence of the night was broken only by the distant, powerful beats of Vhagar's wings, a sound that resonated with ominous foreboding. She watched from her window as the great dragon, with Aemond upon her back, vanished into the stormy clouds that brooded overhead.
When Aemond returned to their chambers, it was not the composed prince who entered but a man storming in, soaked to the bone, his demeanor radiating tight, barely controlled anger. The storm outside mirrored his internal tempest, the rain that clung to him a testament to the chaos that seemed to follow in his wake.
His sudden appearance in the dead of night, the way he moved with a predatory grace, charged the air with a palpable tension. She could see in his expression the fracture of a man who had lost control, his ego bruised by the events that had transpired, a dangerous edge to his anger that made her heart race.
In that moment, the dynamics of their relationship stood on a knife's edge, the events of the night poised to define the course of their future interactions. It was a test of wills, a confrontation between power and vulnerability, where the choices they made could either bridge the gap between them or widen it into an insurmountable chasm.
"Aemond," she began, her voice steady despite the fear that threatened to choke her words. "What has happened?"
He halted mid-pace, turning towards her. The flicker of the candles reflected off his wet face, casting shadows that made his expression all the more inscrutable. "The game has changed," he said through gritted teeth, his voice a low growl.
Her eyes traced his movements, every nerve alight.
“What game?” She dared to ask.
Aemond's gaze was steel, the kind that cut deeper than swords. "The game we're all pawns in—the game for the Iron Throne." His words were heavy, laden with a darkness that seemed to suck the warmth from the room.
“Aemond, tell me plainly. What have you done.”
Her voice was terse, but it trembled.
There was a hardness in his gaze, a glint of something fierce and unyielding.
"Luke," he finally uttered, his tone laden with a severity that chilled her to the bone.
In that instant, clarity and horror crashed over her like a wave. Luke was gone, his life extinguished in the brutal game of thrones that spared no one, not even the innocent. A gnawing question arose within her: Had her mother been informed, or was she, too, left in the dark until now?
The realisation that Aemond, now her husband, had been responsible for her brother's death sent a shiver of fear down her spine. The man standing before her, cloaked in shadows and rain, was no longer just the prince she had been bound to in a marriage of convenience. He was a killer, capable of extinguishing a life—a life she had cherished. Luke's laughter, his teasing smile, the memories they shared, all extinguished in a moment's violence. And if Luke, then why not her?
Aemond's demeanour shifted, perhaps sensing the change in her perception. "You fear me now," he stated, not a question but a flat acknowledgement.
She took a cautious step back, her mind racing. The man before her, powerful enough to command dragons and armies, had shown he did not shy away from kinslaying. "I believe I ought to" she countered, her voice a whisper of defiance.
He paused, and in that silence, the harsh reality of their situation seemed to settle around them like a cloak. As Aemond moved closer, intending to assert himself, she couldn't suppress the instinctual urge to retreat. The space between them, filled with the unsaid and the undone, seemed insurmountable.
She could not help the stark whimper that escaped her when his fingers formed a fist in her hair at the back of her head, pulling her unyielding face up to meet his, his angered breath spilling over her face.
“You believe I would harm you.”
How could she not? She thought. He had so often shown a calm, quiet anger. And unleashed it all within a short afternoon, with Luke's body somewhere at the bottom of the sea surrounding Storm’s End.
“You dare to question this when you have murdered my brother,” she spat back at him.
Jaw clenched, Aemond raised his other hand to his eye patch, quickly ripping it off to reveal to her what was beneath it. The angry red scar extended from his forehead to his cheek, jagged, clumsy. And where his eye would have been was raw, a bright sapphire sitting firmly within the socket, forboding.
Of course, she knew what Luke had done, but she had never seen him like this. Fear gripped at her skin, and a strange throbbing between her thighs at the way he looked over her like this. Thought she attempted to now show that on her face.
Her expression must have mirrored poor Luke's mere hours before, as her new husband gazed down at her, his demeanour terrifyingly calm.
“You defend your little bastard brother after how he has maimed me?”
“Aemond, please-” she pleaded, only moving away an inch before her husband tugged her back, tighter.
“Your brother was of no use to this realm. But you,” he spat, one hand tucking up her skirts and then meanly digging at her hips, “I need your sweet little cunt for my heirs, mandianna.”
She felt her mouth go dry, unable to say a thing. She whimpered again when he used his grip on her hair to turn her body around, keeping her back towards his chest, his fingers slipped along her jaw, as if to communicate that he could wrap them around her throat at any moment.
Aemond was sitting on a knife’s edge. And she dare not tilt him in any particular direction. Equally though, she dare not admit to herself that it was exciting in a most forbidden way.
“You are my wife,” he murmured quietly, sliding her small clothes down her thigh, flourishing with gooseflesh, “and who am I to deny her her duty?”
She suppressed a yelp when her hands lay flat on the table, her breasts pressed hard against the oak as she felt Aemond's rapidly growing harness at her backside where he was rucking up her skirts.
Though she tried to wriggle free of him, one hand at the nape of her neck with undeniable strength was all it took to remind her how much smaller she was than him. How difficult it would be to resist. Does she just go through with it? Let her Uncle, her brother's murderer, take her like a common whore whenever he wishes?
She could envisage no escape, and as ashamed as she was to admit it to herself, she could do nothing but submit. At least there would be some pleasure.
She jolted as his slender fingers parted her folds with a click of her essence coated his digits, dragging his touch from her opening to her overly-sensitive bud.
“See how wet you become for me still,” he murmured, pressing his chest against her back, broad body caging her in, “though I am the greatest sinner in the realm, your body still begs for it, sweet niece. What does that make you?”
“Kepus, please-”
“A traitor to your own kin?” He whispered, exhaling shakily when he nudged her legs apart an inch and slipped the fat head of his cock between her arousal-glistened folds, disappearing into her without effort.
Her lips parted, a quiet moan slipping past at being split onto his length. And though little time had passed since their first tryst, she still felt the sting and girth of him as if it were.
Aemond groaned deeply, at the feeling of her sucking him in so willingly, her walls greedily tightening around his length.
“Or loyal to your kinslaying husband?” He added huskily.
How was she to respond when the air was incessantly pushed right from her lungs at every snap of his hips? The table legs creaked against the floor and her breasts ached from being pressed down to the oak by the tight grip of his fingers around her nape.
She wanted to say that he was brutalising her, taking what he wanted with no care for her pleasure, but even that wouldn't be true. Aemond's rhythmic grunts came hot against her ear as he rutted into her, his hand kneading the flesh of her buttock in one hand, grasping tightly to allow himself deeper access to her.
She felt as if she was betraying herself, moaning the way she was. And Aemond certainly did not miss a thing.
“Stubborn little cunt - saying you don't want it but I can feel you begging for my seed -”
The mocking tone of his voice had her clench around him, humiliation clawing at her skin the more Aemond speared her onto his length in quick rhythmic movements. Her moisture coated his shaft, his pelvis painting the inside of her thighs with it in the heat of their passion.
Aemond looked down between them, his fingers leaving red marks on her buttock the more he gripped. Both hands drifted either side, pulling at her supple flesh to watch the way her cunt took him, his lips parted in appreciation of how he disappeared into her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling so boneless that she did not attempt to wiggle away when he was no longer holding her down. Instead her fingers curled over the table for stability in a desperate plea to ground herself from the hot, tight feeling building every time his cock hit her fleshy, wet end.
And just when she was getting used to the feeling, Aemond pulled her hips back to him, elevating her hips and slamming into her at an angle which brushed against that deep, sweet place inside her.
A tingly, warm sensation fluttered up her spine, “kepus-”
“-fucking say you want it-” he murmured between breaths, pulling her onto him quicker the close the became to completion.
She bit her lip, if anything, using the last bit of her power to not give him the satisfaction of thinking she did in fact want it. So she remained silent, which only made his thrusts more aggressive and assertive.
“-I’ll give you my seed, watch you grow fat with child - and just when you think it's over, I'll fuck another one into you-”
Her nails dug into the oak, scraping painfully, lips parted in a soundless scream as she felt that wave of warmth and bliss crest, unable to control the way she fluttered around him.
Aemond strained, words caught tightly in his throat as he spilled inside of her, pulling her hips flush to him as if to mold himself to her irreparably. She shamefully felt herself tremble, her release still sending dull shockwaves through her blood as Aemond remained seated firmly within her.
She thought of her family. And how they would come to hate her for what she had become, allowing the man who had killed her brother to take her like this. She surely thought they would no longer see her the same with Aemond's child in her belly and tied to him by marriage.
Tears threatened at her eyes, two feelings at war with one another, shame and pleasure.
She whimpered when Aemond pulled his softening cock from her, a rush of warm spend spilling down her thigh in a way that only exacerbated her humiliation.
“You will write to your mother and tell her of your loyalties.”
Aemond spoke so coldly in between soft pants, it was as if he was hardly the man she had known a few moments ago. It has always been like this. But in a way, it is what made him exciting. Unpredictability was as much exhilarating as it was terrifying.
A notion she held to as she glanced at him, his good eye hooded and blown wide and black with lust and the sapphire glinting in the orange glow of the room as if bloodthirsty.
The game had to be played. And if this was the way Aemond wanted to do it, then so be it.
General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies
#aemond smut#prince aemond#aemond#aemond targaryen fanfiction#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen x ofc#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen x fem!oc#aemond x niece#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x oc#aemond targaryen smut#prince aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell characters#prince aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond angst#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond targaryen fic
615 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little dragon - Aegon Targaryen x Niece Valeryon(Targaryen)!Reader
Warning : typical inscet Targaryen, Aegon being soft(?), angst, mention of blood, labor.
Two years after the marriage between Rhaenyra and Leanor and also after repeated failures in trying to get pregnant, Rhaenyra today gave birth to her first daughter. You were born healthy, have Targaryen beauty with a silver hair on your head.
You were fast asleep in your mother's arms who was smiling at you, then the door of her chambers opened to reveal Leanor entering in a hurry “I heard it, a girl. oh this is great news”
Leanor comes closer and strokes your cheek gently, you open your eyes and look at him. "She has your eyes, she is very beautiful" Leanor smiles at Rhaenyra and he nodded his head.
Soon enough news of your birth reached King and Queen ears. The two of them immediately went to your mother's chambers to see how you two were doing.
“oh my daughter, I am proud of you. I hope the birth goes smoothly." Viserys approached his daughter and gave her a warm hug which Rhaenyra immediately returned.
"She was born without any fuss father" Rhaenyra smiled and looked at Alicent who was holding her daughter.
"She’s so beautiful, what a lovely babe you have bought to this world my love."
Rhaenyra laughed softly at her father's demands, she held her father's hand tightly. “she has her father eyes” Alicent spoke quietly while looking at you carefully.
“indeed your grace, she's the perfect mix of me and Rhaenyra” The king smiled hearing Leanor say that
"Have you given her a name?" Rhaenyra looked at her stepmother and nodded, she had thought of a suitable name for you long before you were born.
"Her name is, y/n" Viserys smiled and gently stroked his daughter's arm. "That's a beautiful name for a beautiful princess"
“y/n, I'm sure you will grow up to be a very beautiful princess in the future.”
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. You're now already ten and fifteen name days old, what Alicent said is true. You grew up to be a beautiful princess and was highly respected at court, You are a very innocent , shy and cheerful girl.
Two years after your birth, your mother gave birth to your younger brother, Jacaerys. A few years later your mother again gave birth to a son, Lucerys and now, a few days before your name day celebration. Your mother gave birth to a son again who was named Joffrey.
You are very happy knowing you have many siblings, but the physical differences between you and your other siblings make you not very uncomfortable with all the whispers that speak ill of your mother and siblings.
"Father, I want you to crown Aegon as the next heir to the throne."
Everyone at the council table fell silent and looked at Rhaenyra in surprise, including Otto and Alicent. Viserys choked on his wine, he looked at his daughter in disbelief. Rhaenyra took a deep breath before she looked at her father's face.
"I realize that the realm will not agree if a queen sits on the iron throne"
She knew very well that if one day she ascended the throne, many would oppose her and there would be war. because the situation had changed when Aegon was born, the son the king had longed for.
"However, before that I want to give you one condition."
Otto and Alicent looked at Rhaenyra carefully, feeling happy and anxious at the same time. Viserys was just silent and listened to every word his daughter said.
"I attended to marry my daughter, my heir. y/n to Aegon, let them rule the kingdom together”
While on the other side in the keep, you are reading your book in the garden, sometimes you just want to be alone and away from the hustle and bustle of the court. While you are enjoying the book you are reading, your attention is distracted by someone standing in front of you.
"Princess, I'm sorry to interrupt your time. but the King and Queen is waiting for your presence in council chamber." you turned your gaze and looked at Ser Criston Cole. you smiled and nodded slowly “thank you Ser Criston”
You stood up and straightened your dress a little, you walked confidently towards the council chamber. You smile and greet everyone you meet in the hallway.
When you walk in, you can see the presence of your mother, the Kinb, Queen and also the king's hand. You bowed your body slightly before finally walking closer to your mother.
"I’m sorry for the disturbance, princess. but there is something important we have to discuss with you, please have a seat” you looked at Alicent and nodded slowly.
“Oh not at all your Grace, you don't disturb my time at all.”
“Your mother just spoke about something” You listened carefully and nodded slowly, you could see your mother was very nervous but she still smiled in front of you.
Your grandsire sigh before he speak “She wants Aegon to be the next heir to the throne” this is when you looked at your mother in surprise, you didn't understand what she was thinking. Alicent, who realized how surprised you were, cleared her throat softly and continued her husband's words. "We were just as surprised as you, princess."
“you’re the princess of the realm and you have duties to full field. you have to marry and bring an heir of yourself, i attend to marry you with Aegon” As the king continues speaking you’re silent for a moment, the decision you must accept for the peace of the realm or maybe the peace for this family.
“my love? what do you think about this?” Your mother's voice brought you out of your thoughts, you looked at everyone carefully before you finally gave your answer
“I can't possibly refuse this grandsire, if this is the best decision then I accept it” you smiled.
Hearing this made Viserys smile, he then looked at his wife and daughter. “then it’s settled then, you will be married to Aegon in several months”
After the conversation in the council chambers, you and your mother are now in her chambers. You looked at your mother in astonishment, “What are you thinking? What does all this mean? I have no problem marrying Aegon. but why do you ask to change the order of the throne?”
you can see your mother sigh and massage her temples slowly, she looks at you and you can see the worry and tiredness on her face . "I just want to prevent war, my dear, if later when I ascend the throne, the entire realm will definitely not accept it well. no queen has ever sit the iron throne before”
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, you heard your mother's bedroom door being forced open and revealed your father, Leanor, who looked in a hurry. “What the fuck did I just hear? is it true that you asked Aegon to be heir to the throne?”
You looked at your father in shock, it seemed like your father didn't realize you were there. your mother looked at your father and then looked at you, “dove, I will talk to your father. You can go back to your quarters."
Your father, who just realized your presence, flinched, he smiled awkwardly. "My love, sorry I didn't see you. I'll see you after this." You just nodded and walked out of your mother's chambers , you decided to go back to the garden.
You just nodded and walked out of your mother's room, you decided to go back to the garden. Now in the same place you go back to reading your book, to divert the thoughts that are running around in your head.
“well hello beautiful, what are you doing here?”
You looked away from the book and saw Aegon standing in front of you with his signature smile, you smiled and then closed your book.
“Uncle, I was just reading my book” you smiled then shifted a little so he could sit next to you.
“Sorry dove, I can't bring you flowers today” you could hear the disappointment in his voice and you laughed softly.
"It's okay, just having you here makes me happy"
Aegon lay his head on your lap, you smiled and continued your reading. "Do you know? "This book, it really disturbs my view right now" Aegon took the book in your hand and put it aside, you laughed softly and looked at his face.
"Hey, I'm telling the truth, I'm looking at the most beautiful woman's but the book is blocking my view."
You smiled and gently ruffled his hair, Aegon just laughed softly when he saw you were embarrassed. he likes to see you blush and also laugh out loud when you're around him.
"I was very happy when I found out I would marry you"
You looked at him in shock, you didn't expect that he already knew about it. "I heard the conversation with my grandfather when I was called to his room, are you happy with this dove?"
You shook your head slowly, “of course i’m happy Aegon.” You gently combed his hair and said "I can't think of a more suitable husband for me."
The great sept was decorated with a symphony of colors and opulence greeted the eyes of all who entered. Flowers of every hue adorned the edges, their fragrance mingling with the air.
As you made your way down the aisle, the guests turned their heads, their eyes widening in awe. The radiant bride, accompanied by your father, glided with grace and elegance. you look breathtaking, with white gown that hug your curve perfectly, and your neat braided hair.
At the end of the aisle stood Aegon, the new heir to the throne and your betrothed. His presence was strong and radiating, his eye locked on you with unwavering adoration. You can see his smiles reflected a shared joy, celebrating the union that was about to take place.
On your side of the aisle, your mother, Rhaenyra stood as your pillar of support. Clutching the bouquet of white roses, her eyes glistened with tears of happiness. you two shared a glance, their bond unbreakable, a silent reassurance of love.
The septon, adorned in his ceremonial robes, stood before the altar, ready to officiate the union. The guests held their breath, their eyes fixed on the couple before them, as the sacred vows of love and loyalty would be exchanged.
As you took your place beside Aegon at the altar, "You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." the septon's voice voice resonated through the sept, his words carrying the weight of tradition and sacredness.
Aegon then removes your 'Maidens cloak' bearing the sigil of your birth house, Velaryon and replaced it by cloak' of Targaryen house signifying that Aegon taking over the protection of you.
"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” The septon's powerful proclamation reverberated through the grand sept, reaching the ears of all the guest. As the septon continued with his sermon.
The septon's voice carried the weight of tradition and solemnity as he guided you and Aegon through the final steps of their union. With gentle yet purposeful movements, he began to tie their hands together with a ribbon, symbolizing the binding of their souls as one for eternity.
"In the sight of the Seven," the septon declared, his words resonating through the hallowed space of the grand sept, "I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." The ribbon encircled their joined hands.
Turning towards each other, your eyes locked once again, you and Aegon spoke in unison, your voices blending harmoniously as they uttered the sacred words. The presence of the gods seemed to permeate the air, lending an air of sanctity to the moment.
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..." their voices carried the weight of conviction and devotion.
"I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days," Aegon vowed, his voice filled with unwavering commitment.
"I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days," you echoed. Their voices intertwined, their souls merging in that sacred space.
Aegon’s eye shimmering with unwavering love, gently cradled your face in his hands. His touch was tender, filled with a reverence befitting the solemnity of the moment.
With a soft, lingering touch, Aegon's lips met yours, your first kiss as husband and wife. And their first kiss ever. It was a gentle meeting of souls. In that intimate embrace, time seemed to stand still, the world fading away, leaving only the warmth of their connection.
The guests watched in awe and reverence as the couple sealed their vows with this symbolic gesture. The room was filled with a palpable energy, a collective recognition of the sacredness of the union unfolding before them.
As their lips parted, Aegon whispered, "With this kiss, I pledge my love to you, y/n Targaryen." His words echoed through the hall.
your eyes sparkled with joy as you met Aegon gaze. your voice whispered, "And with this kiss, I pledge my love to you, Aegon Targaryen.”
The septon, catching the low exchange, cleared his throat and raised his voice even louder, ensuring that all present heard his proclamation. "Let it be known that Aegon Targaryen of House Targaryen and y/n Velaryon of House Velaryon are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” The room erupted into thunderous applause and cheers, the joyous sound echoing throughout the grand hall of the Great Sept.
You couldn't believe that it had been almost a year since you and Aegon had been married, and in a matter of days the two of you would be holding your first child.
love what are you doing? you should been resting in our chambers” You turned your head and saw your husband walking over with Aemond beside him. You smiled and tried to stand up from your chair but Aegon quickly held you back.
“just please stay seated, i know this pregnancy had make you suffer” you smile and kiss his lips that makes Aemond groan. “she’s here at the request of both of us, Aegon” Alicent's voice made the three of you turn around, you saw the queen walking along with your mom, Rhaenyra. Their relationship only got better after the day you and Aegon got married, and honestly that made you happy.
They want to discuss several important matters with the kingdom. Since your grandsire health became increasingly worse, Aegon began to learn to manage the kingdom, of course accompanied by the queen and your mother.
“but mother, will y/n be okay? we don't know when the babe will be born” you could hear the worry and worry in his voice, you smiled and took his hand giving his hand reassuring squeeze. "I'll be fine, especially if the babe is born today. everyone is ready”
The meeting went smoothly, Aemond informed that the security of Kings Landing had improved with the addition of Gold Cloak troops in the city. Rhaenyra also said that the war taking place in the narrow sea was under control, you listen to everything that is said. Aegon of course also sometimes gives advice.
You felt pain in your stomach which made you shift uncomfortably in your chair, no one noticed it apart from your husband. Aegon looked at you worriedly and stroked your hand from under the table, “I'm fine, just a little tired” you said quietly with a smile.
Aegon nodded and focused himself again on the meetings, but he knew that something was wrong with you. you tried your best to hold back the pain which was getting worse, you whimpered softly making everyone look at you worriedly. "My love? What’s wrong?" you can hear your mother's voice. you couldn't answer and could only whimper softly, you could feel something running down your leg and you knew very well that something was wrong now.
“Is it the babe? shit, Aemond, call the Maester and the midwives to my chambers now!" Aegon shouted at Aemond and immediately carried you towards your chambers. you groaned and hugged your husband's neck tightly, ‘what happened?’ You are very scared now, You are afraid that something will happen to the babe, many women in your family have died or their babies have not survived the birthing process.
Aegon laid you down on the bed and looked towards the door, “where are the fucking midwives! hurry fucking up!” he screamed like crazy, he didn't want anything to happen to his babe, something to happen to you.
Your mother and also Alicent tried to help you to stay calm, they wiped the sweat that appeared on your forehead, give words of encouragement and also hold your hand. Your breathing are becoming hard and your vision starts to blur because of the pain and tears that accumulate on your eyelids.
“it hurts mothers, this hurts so much” you cried softly as you squeezed both of their hands, Aegon looked back at you and immediately knelt beside your bed. “Dove, look at me.” You looked at him, his gaze radiating worry and fear.
“I'm here, I'll be by your side. please hang in there” he whispered and kissed your forehead.
Not long after you are now surrounded by many midwives and also the Maester. Scream after scream could be heard clearly throughout the Red Keep making everyone who heard it shudder in horror, they knew that their princess was fighting between life and death to give birth to her first child with the prince.
"If you feel any contractions, I want you to start to push, princess.”
The voice of the midwife was faint, you gripped Aegon’s forearm until your nails turned white. Aegon kept his word to be by your side, he ignored your mother and Alicent's words. said that the birthing room was not he right to attend. Another scream was heard indicating that another contraction hit your body, with all the strength, you began to push.
"I feel the head! a few more pushes and he'll be here."
you pushed with all your might and after a few moments you threw your head back on the pillow and took a deep breath, you could heard a very loud cry which made your heart feel relieved. You looked at the midwife who was smiling broadly while holding a red bundle in her hands.
"congratulations princess, you have a son. a healthy one, he’s kicking like a goat"
you smiled weakly and with the remaining strength you had you reached out your hand to take your son, you looked at your son face with a small smile adorning your tired and sweaty face. you could feel Aegon kiss your forehead, “you did it, you gave birth to our child.”
You smiled at your husband and slowly gave your son into his arms. You smiled seeing him cradling your son. after a moment you closed your eyes as you felt the pain wash over your body once again, a small groan escaped your lips which made Aegon look at you worriedly.
"What is this? Is this the afterbirth?” you, with panicked eyes looked at the midwife. The midwife then looked under the blanket, in a worried tone she directed the other midwife to get ready.
"my apologize princess, but it looks like you are pregnant with twins. for that I hope if possible you should come to push as you felt another contraction”
you looked Aegon in shocked and prepared again to give birth to your second babe. With the remaining strength you had, you started to push ad you feel another painful contraction. You twitched in pain and that makes Aegon worried. “it’s hurt! i can’t do this please make it stop”
You cried which made Aegon walk towards the Maester “what happened? why is she in pain?!” Maester came closer and felt your stomach to check what was wrong with the babe, you saw his face change and became afraid.
“I'm sorry prince, but I think this baby is breech” breech? oh my gosh you're even more scared now, your cries are mixed with very scary screams.
“For this, we can do a procedure where we rotate the babe so that it is in the correct position or we can cut the mother's womb so that we can take the babe out”
Aegon looked at the Maester in horror, angrily Aegon pointed the dagger at his neck. "Don't ever think I will allow you to cut open my wife!"
you cried and called his name, Aegon looked at the Maester sharply and immediately walked closer to you. "my love it’s okey, i’m here you’re safe. I won't let anyone cut open your womb, there’s no fucking way," he suppressed all his words.
Your fear grew bigger when the maester approached and started to feel your stomach, "Sorry princess, but this might hurt a little" you just nodded and squeezed Aegon's hand when the Maester did his job, the pain was all you felt. You screamed in pain and told him to stop, after a while the Maester looked back at the midwives and nodded.
“alright princess, if you feel one more contraction I want you to push, okay?” You nodded weakly, you were very tired now. Your nightgown is wet because of your sweat, there is also a lot of blood on it. You took a deep breath as you felt the pain and contractions slowly creep through your body, with the remaining strength you had you tried to give birth your child.
You shook your head and leaned back against the pillow, crying and looking at your husband. he looked very messy, his hair was messy and his eyes were bloodshot. Aegon's heart ached, it hurt when he saw his soulmate looked like this.
“my love, you have to do this. I know it hurts a lot, but I won't be able to live without you. I'm begging for my sake, for the sake of our child” Aegon kissed your forehead several times while continuing to say those words, you realized that your husband and children needed you.
You took a deep breath before you finally pushed with the remaining strength you had. After a few moments the sound of the baby crying was heard, which was not too loud but clear. you turned your head to look for your babe and you can felt your heart hurt, you was afraid something had happened to your little babe.
“Aegon? what happened? please tell me that the babe is okey? right?” You turned to Aegon and looked at him sadly, Aegon was also feeling very worried. he didn't know what happened because after your baby came out, the midwives immediately took him away.
"Congratulations my prince, you have a daughter” the maester's voice sounded, making your heart feel relieved, you took a deep breath and lay back down.
Aegon smiled and kissed you several times while whispering words of thanks. You smiled and stroked his cheek gently, "This is my duty, husband. If you don’t mind I want to sleep now” he chuckled softly and kissed your forehead once more before walking out with his daughter in his arms to let you get some rest.
tag list - @danytar @looneytun3s @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd @eratosmusings (italic means that i can’t tag you)
#aegon ii targaryen#hotd#hotd imagine#aemond targaryen#hotd one shot#prince aegon targaryen#aegon ii fanfic#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#hotd aegon#hotd aemond#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd alicent#hotd angst
525 notes
·
View notes
Text
Object of Delight (3/3)
[ dark • Aemond x Arryn • widow female ]
[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, domination, swearing, postpartum depression ]
[ description: Aemond is forced to marry a widow from House Arryn as part of the alliance and support of his brother in the war against the Black faction. Despite his initial reluctance, a bond develops between him and his wife that he cannot understand or comprehend. In this chapter I combine several requests into one. The female character has a specific eye and hair color. ]
Part 1 − Object of Desire
Part 2 − Object of Despair
Epilogue
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
My other works: Masterlist
_____
The frequency and fervour with which he fucked his wife caused it to be less than three moons before the measter brought him the joyful news during one of his sparring sessions with Ser Criston, informing him that she was expecting his child.
He explained that he had been summoned by one of her servants when she suddenly fainted, and as it turned out, the cause of her indisposition was his inheritance in her womb.
He couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction and the amused look he threw Cole, for here it appeared that, in fact, her deceased husband had simply failed to perform his duty well − his seed was weak and his lineage would be forgotten.
Although he was buzzing with curiosity and desire to see her now, to take her in this blessed state, he decided not to show his weakness and make it to the end of his training following his daily routine, heading to her chamber immediately after taking a quick bath.
His long white hair was still a little damp when he crossed the threshold of her quarters − the door closed quietly behind him, and he looked at her sleeping figure lying on her bed, covered in thick furs. He hummed, walking slowly closer, recognising that she had made the right decision to rest − in her current state she needed to look out for herself more than before.
He stood over her in silence for a moment, fighting the burning desire to touch her face, to take an unruly strand from her cheek, but hesitated.
He only made gestures that someone might call affectionate after their intense closeness, when she slept snuggled against his naked chest, her hand on which she wore a golden ring in the shape of a sun with a sapphire eye, his gift to her, proof that she was capable of pleasing him both in and out of bed, rested on his heart.
He stroked her soft, smooth hair then, her bare shoulder, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, musing. The fact that she spent the nights with him became natural to them − he did not summon her and she did not wait for his permission, following him to his quarters immediately after supper. They didn't speak much, didn't confide their secrets to each other, instead getting to know each other's bodies intimately.
They were able to lie on their sides in the dark for hours satisfying and teasing each other with their mouths without giving each other fulfilment. He enjoyed watching out of the corner of his eye, trailing his lips over her hot, leaking womanhood as his wife sucked unhurriedly on his cock, licking and teasing it with her pink tongue, her caresses gentle and tender, making his fingers involuntarily clench tighter on the naked skin of her hips right next to his face.
There was something liberating to him in the fact that she did not require him to make confessions or sacrifice his regular daily life; although it had always seemed to him that a wife was merely an extension of her husband and his shadow, she preferred to remain a separate entity and he chose not to overuse the power he had over her, not finding it necessary.
He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes opened lazily − she smiled barely visible, softly, perhaps even warmly at the sight of him.
"Are you trying to scare me?" She muttered, turning only to sink deeper into the soft bedding, looking at him calmly, her eyes bright, her face smooth, without a trace of a grimace.
He snorted, amused, turning his head away for a moment only to look at her again, sighing heavily − even though he tried to keep a grave face he knew she had noticed his contentment with the news that had reached him.
"I have been informed that you are carrying my son in your womb." He hummed low, deeply − she blinked, smiling wider.
"I don't know if it will be a son." She replied softly, and he hummed again; she shifted back as he walked closer to her bed and lay on his side, his face turned towards her, laying his head on the pillow right next to hers. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, feeling that although neither of them used words, this was a day of their shared joy, for here was the fruit of their efforts.
He raised his large hand at the thought, unable to contain himself − his fingers took a strand of her black hair and flicked it over her back with a light gesture. She smiled wider, knowing that he couldn't stand it when something covered her face.
Her eyes.
Taking advantage of the fact that he had already touched her, he involuntarily ran his thumb over her soft, plump cheek. He saw that she had closed her eyes, sighing quietly, his gaze focused on her long, dark lashes. His fingers tightened around her neck, drawing her to him and she purred loudly as his swollen lips pressed against hers in a wet, loud, hot kiss.
He pulled away from her with a quiet click, but her lips ran invitingly over his, telling him that she craved more, so he sank into their fleshy texture again, slipping the tip of his tongue between them, a sweet, innocent moan came from her throat causing his cock to throb impatiently in his breeches.
He took her more gently than usual, rocking his hips lazily deep inside her, each time the tip of his swollen manhood rubbing the spot between her muscles, from which a shiver of pleasure ran through her whole body, her fingers tightening on his muscular shoulders, her body beginning to meet his, wordlessly letting him know that he could accelerate his pace.
Her short, slender fingernails dug into the bare skin of his firm buttocks as he began to thrust into her more aggressively, wanting him to do it even harder − he stroked her cheek as she began to babble, asking, begging him to give her what she needed.
"− we need to be more careful now because of the baby − I know, I know you need it, shhh −" He hushed her, closing her mouth with his own, his hands gripped her thighs, with sure, deep thrusts pounding into her at an angle that he knew gave her the greatest pleasure − she arched her back with a sweet moan as his thumb began to tease her bud with circular, intense strokes, her walls began to squeeze him, soaking him all over in her moisture.
"− Aemond −" She mumbled pleadingly, in the way he adored most − he looked down at her panting loudly, resting his free hand on the bed frame in front of him, thrusting into her again and again with the sticky splat of his thighs against her buttocks, his cock throbbing hard, demanding fulfilment.
"− I know − I'll lick you good tonight and slap those buttocks a little − sounds good, hm? −" He gasped, looking at her with affection from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. She nodded her head quickly and cried out − he felt her muscles clench at the very thought, sucking him inside, her cheeks red from exertion and desire, her swollen, full lips parted wide, her hands trailing over his hot flesh.
"− yes − please − fuck me good − o-oh gods −" She mewled sweetly as her body shook with eager, overpowering fulfilment − she tilted her head back, writhing beneath him, her weeping cunt began to clench on him greedily, intensifying his pleasure.
"− good girl −" He exhaled wearily as with a few desperate, sloppy thrusts he came inside her with a loud sigh of relief, looking at her in disbelief.
The woman who had given him what he craved.
"− you did so well for me −" He whispered, leaning over her, being careful not to crush her with his body, sinking his nose into her soft cheek. She wrapped her hands around his waist, stroking his back, making a shiver run along his spine every time her fingers brushed over his hot, sweaty skin.
She knew there was a deeper meaning to what he said and that it didn't just refer to their intense closeness.
Her abdomen swelling from his inheritance was his reason for being proud − his hand lay on it and stroked it involuntarily during the evenings or mornings she spent in his company.
As she lay naked beside him at night, sweaty and welted from what he had done to her, her cunt all puffy and sore from the caresses of his tongue, he hugged his face to her womb, smiling involuntarily when he sometimes managed to feel the movement of the little dragon that was growing inside her.
Despite the maester's recommendation that they should not cohabit with each other when she was in such advanced pregnancy and their strenuous attempts to confine themselves to the use of their mouths alone, as she lay beside him, cuddled with her back to his chest, his manhood swelled involuntarily, slapping against her buttocks.
She would then spread her thighs invitingly, teasing him with the strokes of her hips, tilting her head back, whispering how wet she was, and he, impatiently lifted her higher, forcing the fat head of his cock with their sigh of relief into her tight, throbbing opening, and although they knew they should do it slowly, they fucked each other rough.
"− can't you last a few fucking days without my cock? − isn't it enough that you came on my face tonight? −" He exhaled, listening as his thighs slapped fast against her buttocks with loud smacks, his manhood thrusting into her with ease, her insides slick with her juices, his fingers between her thighs, their tips playing with her clit, not letting her escape.
"− I came having your cock deep inside my mouth − have you forgotten already? −" She gasped and he groaned low at the thought, quickening his pace, clamping his hand around her neck so as not to make it difficult for her to breathe and accidentally hurt the baby − he hid his face in her hair, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to another fulfilment.
"− no − that's not something you can forget − fuck −" He muttered, feeling her sticky walls begin to suck him inside in orgasm, her moisture spilling over his thighs, her moans making him let go, letting his hot seed spill inside her.
"− gods, so good − I can't stop −" He mumbled, and she sighed heavily, moving with him for a moment longer, stroking his arm that embraced her swollen abdomen.
"− me too −"
On the day of the delivery he was restless, pacing around his chamber, full of tension, unable to sit still. She felt the first contractions in the morning and collapsed as her servants helped her dress, whimpering, terrified that it had begun.
He consoled himself with the thought that her mother, the Queen and his sister were with her, that she was not alone, but he could not stop thinking about Aemma, her grandfather's sister and his father's first wife, how she had died and that, although he tried to push the vision away, the birth could prove complicated.
He swallowed hard, running his hand over his face, unwittingly seeing in his mind her pale, lifeless body, her empty violet eyes, her cheeks drenched in tears, her nightgown soaked in blood at the height of her thighs.
He groaned lowly, trying to calm down, repeating to himself that this would not happen, that she was not Aemma and he was not his father.
Hours passed, however, and he still hadn't received any news of her condition − he felt like he was dying inside, for some reason he wanted to weep with despair.
He saw himself with his hands placed deep in the fire of his fireplace, holding his dragon egg, clenching his lips in pain, begging the gods for it to crack.
He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie, rising to his feet as the maester stepped inside his chamber, his attention immediately drawn to the fact that his hands were all dirty in blood.
"Your Grace. You have a son." He said in a trembling voice, and he looked at him dully, as if he did not understand what he had said.
"What about my wife?"
He moved immediately to her chamber when he learned that she had endured the birth very badly, that there was no contact with her, that she had a fever.
That she might not survive.
He didn't even look at the wailing child in his Queen's arms − he walked immediately to the bed where her mother was sobbing, stroking her hands.
She looked exactly as in his vision, pale, her gaze blank, directed somewhere far away, her chemise all red with blood − if it weren't for the fact that her breast was rising and falling in shallow breaths he would have thought she was dead.
"− Your Grace, you shouldn't −" He heard the voice of one of the ladies of the court, but he just stood there looking at her with his lips pressed together, feeling a squeeze in his throat and chest so strong that he had the impression that his whole body had begun to tremble.
He involuntarily moved towards her, climbing onto the bed, leaning on his knees, his trembling hand touched her hot, sweaty cheek, all wet with tears.
"− my love − my love, speak to me −" He whispered, but she didn't even look at him − she only twitched, one last, lonely tear flowed from the corner of her eye.
Something about the sight broke him − he pressed his forehead to her temple, panting hard, her wonderful scent filling his lungs again.
"− don't leave me − don't leave me alone in this world −"
He didn't know if his words had reached her, her fever intensified by the night he had spent by her side with her mother. He sat in a chair watching as she washed her face, already dressed in a clean, snow-white undershirt, covered by thick layers of furs, her body quivering all over, sunk in a deep, restless sleep.
"− I thought the worst was behind her − after that bastard −" She began, but pressed her lips together, as if unable to get it out of her − he looked at her anxiously, feeling his whole body tense up.
She had never told him about her first husband.
Nor had he ever asked about it, not even wanting to recall that another man had had her before him.
"− was he not a good husband? −" He asked impassively − Lady Arryn looked up at him with big eyes, her eyebrows arched in despair and anger at the same time.
Her hair were as dark as his wife's, but her irises were golden and bright, shining in the candlelight around them.
She swallowed loudly, her chin trembling all over, as if she couldn't get it out of her.
"− I − I didn't find out until a year later − that when it turned out she was bleeding, that she wasn't carrying his child − every month he made her sleep in godswood, in just her nightgown − h-he said − gods, he said that until she gave him an heir, she was like his sword, his book, or his horse − her servants took pity on her and when he fell asleep, they would take her to their chambers beneath the stronghold −" She muttered, tears of grief and bitterness running down her face. He looked at her dully, feeling as if he was about to vomit, his stomach painfully clenched − he ran his trembling hand over his face, hearing her words during their wedding night inside his head.
A wife is a gift. Like a sword, a book or a horse.
He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, feeling a burning wetness under his eyelids that he did not let flow.
Her silhouette lying under the weirwood tree, then, as he followed her.
He thought she stopped visiting this place when it became apparent that she was expecting his child because walking such long distances began to be difficult for her.
"− my husband did the right thing − he deserved it −" She exclaimed, and he didn't speak again, knowing what she meant.
He only breathed a sigh of relief the next day when her fever had diminished and she was still breathing. She would wake up and only babble, her mother would feed her and help her dress, and he would just be beside her, overseeing everything, wanting to make sure nothing escaped his attention.
He knew that his son was in the care of his mother and sister.
As she began to regain consciousness, it was decided to introduce their son to her − one of the wet nurses, a plump woman with a wide smile brought in her arms an infant with his white hair and her mother's golden eyes. He smiled involuntarily at the sight, hoping that the appearance of her child would give her strength.
"Look, my Lady. It's your little boy. Would you like to feed him?" The woman asked softly, but his wife merely looked away, tense, staring out of the window, her fingers clenched on the thick fur that covered her. He pressed his lips together at the sight, feeling that something was happening deep inside her, that something had taken place during the birth that had broken her.
She did not want to look at the baby, touch it or feed it − she only expressed in a weak voice her satisfaction that their child was healthy.
Her mother tried to persuade her to at least take her son in her arms, that she would then immediately feel maternal love and attachment, but she shook her head quickly, tears running down her face as if she didn't even want to imagine it.
"− Your Grace, I'm afraid a heavy birth has caused your wife to lose her senses, she is rejecting her own child − I believe that at this point she is dangerous to Your Highness' son and should be left alone for a while to calm down −" The maester told him as he left her chamber to change and refresh himself, his lips tightened into a thin line at his words.
"− weigh your words − my wife is suffering, and you are to find the cause of it −" He hissed, furious, the man swallowed hard and nodded, not speaking again.
When he returned to her quarters, he noticed to his surprise that her bed was empty, her mother asleep in her chair, tired, no one else around.
He went outside in a panic, wondering where she could have gone, heading towards the godswood, however, he froze in a half-step walking down the corridor when he noticed that the door to the chamber his son slept in was ajar.
He walked slowly inside and stopped, noticing her silhouette sitting next to the cradle, looking blankly at the sleeping infant, her face indifferent and expressionless. She lifted her gaze to him at last, as if snapped out of her reverie, her eyebrows arched in pain, her fingers clenched on the fabric of her nightgown.
"What's going to happen to me now?" She muttered in a trembling voice and he shook his head, not understanding what she was asking.
"I do not follow." He replied; she lowered her gaze, her lower lip quivered, tears ran down her cheeks − she seemed to have fallen into some kind of state of panic.
"Now that I've given you a son. What are you going to do with me? Will you pretend I don't exist? Will you find yourself a lover?"
He stared at her stunned, feeling the quick pounding of his heart and the squeeze in his throat, horrified at the direction her thoughts were taking.
"Where did those words come from?" He asked in disbelief, feeling that he was struggling to breathe, his hands clenched into fists.
She hid her face in her hands, shaking her head, bursting into a loud sobs as if something inside her had cracked.
"I can't. I can't, I can't, I can't." She squirmed, drawing in air loudly − he moved towards her, kneeling in front of her, pressing her face to his chest.
"Calm down. Please." He whispered, her fingers clenching tightly on the material of his green tunic in a helpless gesture of despair.
"I am worn out. I'm a worn-out, empty vessel. There's nothing more I can give you." She whimpered, and he clamped his eyelids shut, pulling her close. Her body fell to the ground right beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, cuddling her into himself like a small child, stroking her soft dark hair reassuringly.
"You are my wife. I will never betray you or our family. We can wait with begetting another child until you are ready. After all, we have our ways of doing that, don't we?" He asked in a soft, trembling voice, trying to comfort her, to let her understand that nothing was over, but on the contrary, in his eyes, it had only just begun.
"I've been contemplating for some time that I should take you in front of that guard who looks at you so shamelessly when you're wearing gowns of thinner material. When your breasts are visible through it. That would give him something to think about, hm? And the most important thing. Vhagar. The mother of my child must know what it means to ride a dragon." He hummed into her ear, playing with strands of her hair, feeling her shiver at his words, that she was returning to him, her body no longer trembling, her breathing calming.
"I thought I'd already ridden the world's greatest dragon." She whispered, and he involuntarily smirked and snorted, kissing her hair.
"Not like this."
They stayed like that for a while in each other's embrace, sitting on the floor, stroking each other's cheeks, shoulders and hair, for the first time so close, so tender, so sincere. They shuddered when they heard sobbing and whimpering coming from the cradle − they both rose and he turned his head, calling the guard, telling them to bring a nursemaid.
"No." She said softly, coming closer, leaning over the cradle, taking their son into her arms. She embraced him and began rocking him, shushing him reassuringly as she looked at his face.
"− hello, little one − I know − it's not your fault −" She muttered with difficulty, tears in her eyes − he looked at this sight with a squeezed throat and swallowed heavily.
"− come here − are you hungry? −" She asked, sitting down on the window sill, slipping the material of her nightgown off her shoulder, exposing her breast, all swollen, full of milk − he felt his manhood throb involuntarily in his breeches at this sight.
She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as their son, nestled against her breast, found her nipple and, in a natural, subconscious instinct, began to suck on it greedily, clamping his small hand over her skin.
She looked at their child with curiosity and some kind of warmth that moved him.
He approached her, leaning over her, kissing the top of her head, sinking his nose into her soft hair, looking out of the corner of his eye at this almost mythological sight of a woman feeding her offspring.
"− what did you name our son? −" She asked quietly, and he felt hot in his chest hearing her use the word our.
"− I waited with this decision for you − you are his mother −" He replied softly, taking an unruly strand of her hair from her face. She mused, looking at the infant suckled to her breast and smiled softly.
"− Jaehaerys −" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, delighted that they had thought of the same thing.
Of their common ancestor.
"− so Jaehaerys it will be −"
#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#ewan mitchell#aemond fanfic#aemond smut#hotd smut#targaryen smut#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell smut#aemond x oc#aemond#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond kinslayer#aemond angst#aemond targaryen angst#hotd angst#ewan mitchell angst#hotd fanfiction#hotd fandom#hotd fic#hotd fanfic#hotd x oc#aemond x wife#aemond x original character#aemond x original female character#aemond x female
484 notes
·
View notes
Text
my way, back home | aem. targaryen
Description: Aemond wants to build a big family with you. One that rivals his great-grandfather's. (the dance never happens)
Rating: Teen [fluff]
It was uncommon to see a wedding happen because of love. It was rare to see a wedding happen because of love and political advancement. You were lucky to have the latter.
It was a hot day in Kingslanding - like the many days before. Of course, your sons took it as a reason to go to Dragonstone - where the shores and the heat were more forgiving.
"At this rate we'll need to create a beach just for our children," Aemond mused, allowing the waves to kiss his ankles. "If there is enough coin in our coffers, maybe." you replied as he leaned down to peck your lips. "I always find a way," he hummed, sitting on the sand.
His hands trail down to your swollen belly. A babe of five moons, another price or princess for the realm to adore. "What do you think it'll be?" you inquired - staring deep into his eye. "A loved child," he replied - not caring for the gender. He was a relief to have in this world - a world where girls were viewed as liability.
You turned to the side - eyes narrowing to see the figure of your sons and their handmaidens properly. "Not too far, my darlings." you gently warn, seeing that the water was beginning to reach Rhaenar's shoulders. "Yes, mother." your youngest, Aenar, responded.
Aemond kept his hand on your stomach, rubbing slow circles while he watched his sons play in the waters. A small thought runs through his head - a plan and a vision of his life.
"You have been far too silent, my husband." you pointed out, using the cloth to dry your hair properly. "I have been thinking," he professed - taking a lazy sip of his dornish wine.
"Thinking about what?" you raised an eyebrow.
The sides of his lips turned upwards - slowly leaning towards a smile. He takes another sip of his wine, allowing the silence to permeate throughout the atmosphere. "I want more children with you," he stated and a playful laugh escapes your mouth.
"This one is yet to escape my womb, and you already plan to have a fifth?" your eyebrows bumped into each other. The pain of childbirth was great - but the joy of having a babe in your arms, it was greater. "And a sixth, a seventh and an eighth." he professed - already having a few names in mind for his heirs.
"Is this the wine speaking, or does the plan of replacing King Jaehaerys' records lay rampant in your head?" you accused, taking a step forward and sitting on his lap. His hands inch towards your belly again - seeing that it was it's perfect place. "I always intended it to be that way," he whispered - burying his face on your neck.
"But we won't be like them, you know that - right?" you frown, remembering his children's cruel fates. "We'll be better." you add with certainty. Your daughters will not be subjected to cruel matches - and your sons will be raised with vigor and love. Your daughters will know that their beauty increases their worth - and that it doesn't diminish their intellect. Your sons will know that they are not only meant to be princes and heirs - they can venture far.
"Yes," he answered, removing his hand from your belly - reaching for your jaw and merging your lips together.
@bellstwd @nyctophilic0vitnir @fan-goddess @mizfortuna @watercolorskyy
#aemond targaryen#aemond#aemond one eye#the one eyed prince#prince aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#pro aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen x reader#modern aemond#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond targayren fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fan fic#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd smut#hotd angst#hotd fanfic#hotd fan fic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fan fiction
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Pieces of a Woman | One Shot
Text Divider by @saradika-graphics
SUMMARY | Even when his life takes a turn for the worse, Aemond Targaryen endures.
WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Smut; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Miscarriage; Yearning; ANGST
WORD COUNT | 7.2k
A/N | This is my personal favourite out of all the stories I've ever written, reposted with a new header and all that fun stuff! Beta read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs ❤️
They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins.
They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.
As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more.
What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?
His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.
There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.
Ever since their wedding, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.
It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms.
In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it.
For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to?
He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her.
But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.
They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious.
As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.
His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”
A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her?
He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went.
She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled.
Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.
“Are you well, wife?”
The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.
“I am now.”
She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm.
The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth.
Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.”
He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.
"You’ve given birth to a boy as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.
“Thank you.”
Aemond would be the first to deny that he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife.
In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for.
But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.
“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.
He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.
“Aemond…”
He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated. It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own child. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.
“Yes,” he curtly responded.
“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”
He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words.
"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.
“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?”
Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.
The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.
“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high.
His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”
She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.
When he tossed and turned in his bed in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her.
She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.
Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.
When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour.
Gods, was she hurt?
He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.
Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.
He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.
“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”
She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”
“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.”
She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.
“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.
“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”
At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”
“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”
“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears.
She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.
Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?
He stands in the middle of what used to be their shared chambers and sighs.
The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table.
This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.
If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.
He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties.
His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.
Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?
The waves crashed by the shores of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.
Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand.
They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.
He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.
Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.
“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.
“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”
“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled.
“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]
A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.
“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.
He could never deny her anything she wanted.
“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond.
“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”
He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”
That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.
If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?
The burns and injuries had ruined any spirit Aegon may have had as King.
He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.
Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.
“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”
“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands.
His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.
“Does she fare any better?”
“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.
While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.
He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.
When Aemond came home dripping wet from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death?
He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.
She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.
“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was.
It was always warm, and tonight it was not.
“Stay, please.”
“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”
She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him.
His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.
She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other.
His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.
“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.
“What?”
“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more.
She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”
“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.”
Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her.
He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?
“I believe you. Go on.”
“The dragons…” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.”
She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?
His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would.
When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.
“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.
He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself?
“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”
When he was done with her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.
She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.
What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.
“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”
“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.”
He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed.
How wrong he was.
He had walked away only for a moment.
His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.
Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him.
She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.
“My boy, my precious boy…”
The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch. Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him.
Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?
A son for a son.
The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.
“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”
Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all.
“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”
Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood.
When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.
Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.
They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife.
It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence.
The moonlight diverged through the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.
In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short.
She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.
Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone.
The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.
It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.
On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.
On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child.
When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"
He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.
She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night.
He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind.
“Your Grace.” he bows.
“How is she?”
“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”
“Hm.”
He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days.
In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.
“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”
Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”
“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.”
He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."
He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t.
“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?” I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?
He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.
He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.
“Of course.” He kisses her temple.
He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips - watching as she murmurs his name.
He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.
When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight.
It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married.
And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?
BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC, HERE.
NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!
MASTERLIST
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen smut#ewan mitchell#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond smut#aemond fanfic#aemond targaryen fic#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond#aemond targaryen x ofc#aemond targaryen x oc#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond fic#aemond#pro aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#aemond angst#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen fanfiction
687 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you write something for Aemond being protective of his pregnant wife during the dinner scene in ep8? Like she gets caught up in the middle of the fight and Aemonds just having none of the Strong boys shit as they endanger his beloved
Hi my lovely Anons! These are all brilliant requests by the way, and thank you for reading my works!
Aemond x pregnant!reader | the dreaded family dinner | hurt reader | protective dad Aemond
You looked down to where Aemond knelt before you, his hands reverently holding the swell of your pregnant belly as your hands carded through his long hair. He pressed his lips to where your child grew, looking up at you reverently with his lilac eye. “You will be a wonderful mother, Y/N.” He rose to kiss you, pouring adoration into the way his lips moved with yours, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip. You gasped softly as he deepened the embrace, his hands cupping your waist, pulling your round abdomen flush against him.
“Are you ready to go down to dinner?” You murmured, your breath still mingling with his.
“Mm.” Aemond breathed, his eye still half closed as he rested his forehead against yours. “I’d much rather spend the evening alone with you.”
“As would I.” You kissed him once more before extricating yourself from his grasp. “However, your mother would not be pleased with either of us.”
“Indeed, she would not!” Aemond chuckled, opening the door for you as you both exited your bedchambers.
Arm in arm, you walked together down the winding stone corridors, reaching the dining hall just as Aegon joined you. “Ready to break bread with the wolves, brother?” Aegon rolled his eyes, pushing open the oaken doors.
Aemond didn’t answer, though his arm around you tightened slightly. Alicent and Rhaenyra were already sitting at the long table, carefully avoiding each other’s gazes. Jacaerys and Lucerys glanced over from their corner of the room, looking over you, Aemond and Aegon as you entered. You noticed Jacaerys’ eyes drop to take in the curve of your belly, a sneer flitting across his features as he looked at Aemond beside you. You held Aemond’s arm a little tighter as he guided you to your seats. You sat, taking the weight off your tired feet, Helaena to your immediate right and Aemond sitting at the end of the table to your left.
You could tell how tense your husband was, your attention thoroughly distracted from the light conversation around the table. Aemond’s gaze was hard, flitting between Jacaerys and Lucerys who were studiously avoiding his intent eye. You started slightly in your seat as King Viserys began speaking loudly, his breathing ragged as he urged his family to set aside their differences and try to start anew. Your gaze flitted to where Aemond studied his plate, his long fingers tapping next to where his goblet sat.
A round of toasts began, starting with Rhaenyra and slowly moving around the table. You didn’t hear what Aegon murmured to Jace, but it was enough to cause the boy to slam his fists upon the table, rising to his feet in anger. Beside you, Aemond slowly got to his own feet, eyeing his nephew as though daring him to continue. Jace hesitated a moment, his gaze flicking briefly to your own face before he raised his own goblet in a toast to his uncles. Aemond shared a glance with you as he returned to his seat, you quirked an eyebrow, but he shook his head slightly.
Lilting music began to fill the room, servants bearing food and drink hurried to service the nobles as you all began eating and chatting. You turned to engage Helaena in conversation just as Jacaerys asked her to dance with him. Aegon watched them depart for the middle of the room, hand in hand, before turning to share a bemused look with Aemond. Your husband shifted in his seat, the better to keep an eye on Jace, his face set in a stony expression. You rubbed your stomach absent-mindedly, stirring the soup before you while deep in thought.
“Excuse me a moment.” You stood, gathering your skirts as you made your way passed Aemond, touching his shoulder lightly as you went, walking down the steps toward the privy.
After washing your hands in the water basin, you slowly ascended the stairs back into the dining room only to see your husband standing at the end of the table, his goblet held aloft. “Come, let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”
“I dare you to say that again.” Jace said from where he stood next to a confused Helaena.
“Why? It was only a compliment.” He moved around the corner of the table to meet Jace as he advanced. “Do you not think yourself strong?”
You moved quicker than you thought possible in your heavily pregnant state, seeing the unfolding of events before they happened. Jace swung a heavy punch toward the scarred side of Aemond’s face. “No!” You shouted, interjecting yourself between the two men just in time to block Jace’s blow with your forearm, the force of it knocking you back against Aemond’s chest.
You used your other hand to try and push Jace away, but the boy grabbed your wrist roughly, yanking you forward with such force you audibly gasped in pain.
“Jace!” Rhaenyra yelled.
“Aegon!” Alicent scolded as her eldest slammed Lucerys into the table.
The momentum of Jace’s pull as he tried to get you out of his way caught you off-guard, your arms unable to catch your body as you tripped, landing heavily upon the stone floor. Deathly silence fell in the room, everyone seemed to be collectively holding their breath, watching as you kept still, assessing the damage.
“Aemond, no!” It was Alicent’s voice again, sounding more scared than angry.
You looked around from where you’d propped yourself up on your hands, seeing your husband with his hand at Jace’s throat, pinning him to the wall, a thin dagger at the boy’s throat.
“Aemond!” Alicent cried again, rushing to your side instead of trying to get her son off Jacaerys. She looked you over, worry etched into her face.
“You think to injure my wife.” Aemond seethed, his voice a deadly hiss. “To manhandle her when she is so vulnerable.”
“Aemond…” You spoke soothingly as Alicent helped you back to your feet. You glanced with worry to where Daemon was making careful progress toward your husband. “I’m alright. Aemond, let him go. I need your help.”
He released Jacaerys at once, the boy almost losing his footing as Aemond turned to you. Your husband was quickly at your side, supporting your back with one hand while his hand worriedly stroked at your abdomen. His violet eye roved your face. “Are you injured? Is-is our child…?”
“I’m alright. Please, let’s just go.” You said again, shooting Alicent a grateful look as Aemond helped guide you from the dining hall. She watched the two of you go, her face a mask of worry and sadness.
“I could kill him.” Aemond spoke, his voice a growl from where he walked beside you, his hands still supporting half your weight.
“Somehow, I don’t think that’d go over well.” You tried to make light of the situation, but Aemond wasn’t having it.
“If he so much as looks at you again, I will feed him to Vhagar after I finish with him.”
The anger in his voice was palpable, your own skin prickled with it. You turned to him, halting your progress down the corridor, taking his tense face in your hands.
“I am uninjured, my love.” You kissed the corner of his mouth, smiling as he moved his head into your touch. “Our child is still whole. There is no danger.”
He caressed your hair, his gaze gentle upon your face. His hands traced the curves of your body, holding the swell of where your child grew within you. “If anything happened to you… I would be lost.”
You kissed him, the two of your clinging to each other, the adrenaline wearing off, leaving you exhausted but relieved your little family was safe from harm.
#aemond fluff#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x you#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond one eye x reader#hotd aemond x reader#prince aemond x reader#hotd x reader#aemond imagine#aemond drabblle#aemond one shot#aemond fanfic#aemond fic#aemond stannies#pro aemond targaryen#aemond angst#aemond one eye#prince aemond targaryen#house of the dragon aemond#hotd aemond
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
His Lady Wife
aemond targaryen x reader
author's note: eek this is my first angst fic and i have no idea if its good so please leave comments and feedback!! its very loosely based off othello with ofc aemond as othello and the reader as desdemona. this can be read alongside my other aemond x reader but also can be read alone!! i am working on part two for my other aemond x reader but i'm struggling w ideas so please drop me a message if you have any!! also please comment if you'd like to be added to my aemond x reader taglist <3
genre: very angsty, prepare for tears
the love between aemond and his dear wife would be in the history books one day, he was sure of it. there would be songs, poems and ballads written about the ardent love between them. a love which their great, great grandchildren would aspire to have. their love was refreshing in the court, all the other marriages were ones of duty but theirs was one of love.
that was until everything tumbled down. when you first became with child, you were estatic, you ran to tell your husband, who was over the moon. however, rumours had spread of your infidelity, that you had laid with one of the knights of the kingsguard and that you were pregnant with a bastard. at first, aemond didn't believe it, his beloved wife would never do such a thing. but he started to let his self doubt overcome his love for you.
"have you seen the knight? he's a far better swordsman and far better looking than the prince, you can't blame the princess."
aemond became overcome with jealousy and insecurity. it made sense to him, why would someone as perfect as you be with something as blemished as him.
then there was the stocking incident. one of your stockings, with your initials on it was found where the kingsguard trained which led everyone, including king aegon and prince aemond to believe you to be unfaithful.
you were walking in the gardens when you saw your husband. you had a smile on your face whilst your husband barely made eye contact with you. "what is it my love, you have been ignoring me?" you asked with concern evident in your voice.
"do not call me your love when you are carrying anothers bastard." aemond replied sharply.
"you do not believe the rumours? do you? aemond i love you, you know that? please don't do this." you took a step back and could feel your voice falter.
"i have arranged for our chambers to be separated. your maids will know where it is they will take you. the king was ready to have you killed but your family are needed." he said quickly and walked straight past you. it hurt him to see that he hurt you. he wanted to go back and apologise but his pride and insecurity got the better of him.
being isolated took a toll on you and your pregnancy. you were struggling greatly with no husband or friends in court other than your handmaid who you appreciated greatly. you saw how your mother was when she was pregnant and she wasn't anywhere near as unwell as you were. you were going to send a letter to your parents asking for their guidance but decided against it, you didn't want your father to storm down kings landing. breakfast, lunches and dinners you would spend alone in your small chambers as your husband refused to be in the same room as you, which hurt you greatly. you loved aemond so dearly, you went for spending to everyday together to months apart. most days you would spend weeping in your chambers praying to the gods for any form of relief. you preferred staying in your chambers than walking around court. you would recieve stares, looks and laughs from everyone around. it broke your heart, you had good relationships with everyone, with alicent, otto, daeron, haleana and even aegon, who would refer you to as his "good sister". now they don't even look in your direction.
it was his nephews nameday celebrations which hurt you the most. you played the role of the perfect wife, in the perfect relationship which almost had you believing that aemond was still in love with you, that was until he whispered in your ear that it was all a pretence.
but that didn't stop you from loving him. though you wished it did, maybe it would hurt less if you didn't love him anymore. at whatever opportunity to ask about his wellbeing you would, you even went as far as asking his mistress, who took pity on you and kept you updated. you still prayed for his health every night and prayed that the mother would take pity on your soul and relieve you of the pain.
although aemond was smart, he wasn't as smart as his grandfather, the hand. otto had his doubts regarding the infidelity rumours he had his child spies keep tabs all over westeros and after eight months of digging, he found the truth.
"speak up boy, tell the king what you heard"
the young boy bowed to the king before the hand's spy told the council what he heard,
"the rumours regarding the princess' infidelity were created by daemon and his old whore."
aemond looked up in shock, he felt his blood boil as he held the arm of his seat tighter.
"it was said that daemon knew the easiest way to seperate the greens was through his "fickle nephew" and that once word of the princesses disrespect reached the riverlands, they would switch alleigances to the blacks."
an uncomfortable silence hung the room. all eyes were on aemond who felt a mixture of anger, guilt and distraught. he spent the past 8 months slighting and hurting his chaste lady wife. the king knew his brother well enough to know how his mind was racing,
"i promise you brother we will take down the blacks. you will be the one to take our wretched uncle yourself i swear this to you brother."
once again silence befell the room. aemonds face was unreadable. the council sat in fear of his reaction as his mother held his hand in hopes to calm him down.
"eight months. for the past eight months my lady wife has been with child with my child and i have not spent a single day with her. the lady wife who loved me so loyally has spent eight months confined to a chamber not fit for a princess because of that pathetic cunt. no, his death would not satisfy me. i need more." the calmness in aemond's voice evoked a deep fear in the room. daemon's doing caused aemond's beloved to suffer at his own hand, they all knew that aemond would not rest until she was avenged. "as for now i need to see my lady wife."
as aemond got up from his seat, a maester and midwife covered in blood, sweat and tears entered. the only lady pregnant was his wife. his heart dropped. this couldn't be happening.
"your graces. the princess entered her labours a moon early-"
before the maester could even finish, aemond ran out of the room and straight to his wifes pathetic excuse of a chamber as fast as his legs could take him with ser criston his mother, grandfather and both his brothers close behind him. when he saw the limp body of his once beloved wife he fell to his knees.
"no, no, no. wake up my love, my love please. my love i am so sorry. please no my sweet girl come back to me, open your eyes once more, you do not need to forgive me my love, i will spend the rest of eternity at your feet please just come back to me. i was wrong my love, i'm so so sorry." he cradled her dead body, begging for her to awaken, praying to every and any god to bring his sweet girl back to him. he was overcome with guilt and anguish, the last memory he had with her ended with her heart shattering.
it was two months ago. you had a feeling that something was wrong with you or your babe but none of the maesters in court believed a word you had to say since the rumours.
"please aemond just listen to me for a second, i need to see the maesters in my fathers home, they will know what to do, they saved my mother once before." you begged aemond as you trailed after him with abnormal aches in your body.
"why? so you can run off to your father with that bastard and face no consequences? no you will stay him and have that bastard here and face punishment from the king himself." there was no mercy in aemond voice or gaze. he saw the way your face and body crumpled. his words cut deeper than any blade and you couldn't hide it. he felt a pang of guilt in his heart but he pushed it aside.
aemond felt the bile rising in his throat after remembering his last encounter with you. gods he would do anything to turn back time and fix things. he was so fixated on ignoring and avoiding you that all good memories of you were distant.
"i do not remember the sound her voice mother. i do not remember the sound of the voice that spent countless nights whispering sweet nothings to ail my troubled mind. i do not remember the delicate touch of the lady who dedicated herself to comforting me." aemond confessed with a heavy heart, staring and clutching on to his wife's cold body.
"please aemond do not do this to yourself-"
"do what mother? torture myself? torture myself as i tortured my wife? as if carrying a babe was not torture enough, i tortured her even further by abandoning her when she needed me the most. she had no one apart from her one handmaiden and tis no ones fault but my own. how could i doubt her? how could i be so foolish? the last time we spoke, she insisted that something was wrong with her or the babe and i ignored her. i killed her mother."
"yes, yes you did my lord." spoke up your handmaiden with your newborn daughter sleeping soundly in her arms.
"you can cut my tongue, kill me do whatever you like with me, my loyalties are not with you but the the princess whos blood is on your hands. she loved you so dearly, yet you turned on her with no hesitation after hearing baseless rumours. her father was ready to have his men pledge alliegance to the blacks after hearing your treatment towards his only daughter but she told her father that it was all lies spread by the blacks and that you still loved her. she prayed to the gods everyday that once the babe was born and you would see how that it is your trueborn child you would love her once more. but now she is longer with us and she died with a broken heart."
as ser criston drew his sword ready to cut the throat of the maid, the prince piped up,
"leave her be ser criston. she said no word of lie. no harm should come to the only lady who stood by my beloved's side when she was alone. i am in debt to her. you are free to leave my lady, i will ensure all provisions are made for you."
"as kind as your offer is my prince, i promised the princess that in case of her untimely death, i would remain beside her daughter until her eighteenth nameday and to hand you this letter." aemond looked up for the first time since he entered the cursed chambers as your handmaid passed the baby to his mother
"i have a daughter?" his voice trembled. you both always dreamed of having a daughter and whilst he wanted his youngest child to a girl, you wanted the eldest to be a girl. but that dream was now thwarted.
alicent choked back a sob as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms. "she's tiny aemond. she has your targaryen hair and eyes but she is her mother through and through."
he was lost for words. he couldn't fight it anymore as he began to sob as he cradled your body just the way his mother cradled his babe.
"read the letter out loud my lady. i treated my wife terribly there is nothing left to hide."
your handmaid was hesitant at first but read your last letter to your husband out loud.
"my dearest husband, dear husband,
you recieve this letter due to my untimely death but our child lives on. i do not know if this is news is joyous for you or one of regret but please do not take your hatred for me out on our child. i know our child will look like you as i have never laid with another but i am unsure to if you will ever believe me.
when you remarry and have other babes of your own, ensure that they all love one another and that their stepmother loves them the same. if you cannot ensure this, send our child to my parents, where they will be cherished.
please remember the love we once shared and share that love with our babe. i know that you may not want to to keep the portraits of us and of myself, but i beg of you to do so, even if its just one of myself. i would like for our child to know what their mother looked like. regardless of what happened between us, it hurts to say that i still love you as i did when i first fell in love with you. i hoped it wouldn't end like this but the gods work in mysterious ways.
your lady wife."
no one could hold back their tears. aemond knew the letter would hurt him, but knowing that she died thinking that he hated her, that he would remarry and that he may even celebrate her death killed him. he thought that the stranger visiting him would be less painful than what he was feeling at that moment.
"leave me be, i would like to say goodbye to my wife alone."
as he gazed upon her sleeping face, it set in to him that he would never wake up to her again. he would never hear her laughter again. he would never see her smile again. he pushed her hair back behind her ear as he used and pressed his forehead against hers. he could no longer fight the tears as his voice broke whilst speaking to you one last time,
"how could i ever hate you, my perfect girl? you have been nothing but good to me. you, who showed me what love is, you who made this pointless life worth living, how could i celebrate your depature. i love you my sweet girl. i love you so so much. and how could you think i would ever remarry, my darling? you captured my heart and now you've taken it to the grave with you. i cannot explain how sorry i am, gods i hope somewhere somehow you can hear me. i pray that the gods punish me for the way i hurt you. i allowed my anger, jealousy and doubt get the better of me. i was a fool to not trust you. you shouldn't be here. you shouldn't be like this in my arms, we should be in bed, choosing names for our babe who shouldn't have been born yet. who looks just like you by the way. she's the only reason why i'm still here. for her. for you. i will tell her the stories of her one of a kind mother, i pray to the gods she'll be just like you. i will have even more paintings comissioned of us, of you my angel, anything you desire. until next time, my dearest lady wife, i love you."
as aemond laid her cold body down back on the bed, tucked her in and kissed her one last time, he found a small box under her pillows. it was covered in blood from her labors but it was still wrapped like a gift nonetheless. he opened to find 3 matching necklaces. one fit for a man. one fit for a woman. and one fit for a baby girl. all with a sapphire in the middle.
taglist: @fultimefangirl @hc-geralt-23 @vivianeviolet @whatsonthemirror @69cocktimusprime
*tags w a line through didn't work!!
#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd#hotd season 1#house of the dragon#prince aemond#aemond the kinslayer#hotd thoughts#aemond stannies#aemond oneshot#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen angst
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Appatent
part 4 of ‘Repentance’
warnings: smut, angst, jealous!Aemond.
a/n: I’m sorry if I missed you in the tag list, thank you all for waiting! <3 (If there are any typos I miss, I apologise-- I edited this messily lmao)
You had been missing all morning, having skipped breakfast to run amok outside of the Red Keep, your absence had caught Aemond’s attention immediately. He didn’t need to know where you were and who you were with, he already knew the answer. It had been a week since the Stark family left Kings Landing to return to Winterfell, having left behind their eldest son-- he was now proving to be another issue Aemond had to deal with.
Aemond tuts as he watches the two of you return through the gates on horse back, eye narrowing as he leans forward to see you better. His heart warms at the sight of your smile, wishing it had been caused by him rather than Brandon Stark. His name was poison in Aemond’s thoughts, too painful to even utter out loud, Aemond insisted on referring to him as the Stark boy.
“You cheat! This was barely a fair competition-- you left seconds before I did” You cry out as you are assisted with help from getting off of your horse. You try to ignore the way Brandon’s hands grip your hips as he helps you down, helping straighten out your dress and brush your hair back into place once you are back on your feet.
“Only a sore loser accuses the other player of cheating by mere seconds, sweet girl” He smiles down at you, eyes shifting from your eyes to your lips. You feel guilt grow inside of you at the thought of how his lips would feel, how his mouth would taste on yours.
“Dear wife and Stark boy-- you’re back so soon?” The sound of Aemond’s voice pulls your attention away from Brandon, the smile on your face faltering as you watch him move closer to the two of you.
He notices the way your smile drops the moment you meet his gaze. He ignores the way it makes his stomach turn in discomfort-- hurt by your change in emotion, he still continues to move closer to you.
“His name is Brandon, dear husband” You remind Aemond, having to yet again correct him for what feels like the millionth time since the boy from North has been here. Aemond almost chuckles at your sarcasm, finding the way you stand up for the Stark boy slightly amusing. He doesn’t appreciate it, but he savours the way you refer to him as your husband.
“I am his swordsmanship tutor, I can call him as I like” Aemond argues back and before you can open your mouth to retaliate, Brandon stops you by squeezing your hand-- muttering it’s okay whilst giving you a warm smile.
“Speaking of which, we have training. You shall find someone else to play with while the Stark boy is busy” Aemond hums to his wife who narrows her eyes at him in suspicion at his statement, there was a double sided meaning to it. You nod, flashing Aemond a fraudulent smile, hoping he would turn away and gather the gear needed for training so you could be left alone for a moment. As he’s walking off, he overhears an important piece of information you tell Brandon.
“Meet me in the Red Keep’s library after training concludes”
Despite his bitter feelings toward the Stark boy, he still insisted he was to be taught with the same manner and respect he had received as a student in swordsmanship. Aemond promised Cregan that his son would be trained by only the best, and he intended to keep that promise. It’s tempting to Aemond as he spars with the boy, imagining himself ramming his sword into his body-- letting him bleed out onto the streets with onlookers witnessing it.
The consequences would be dire, it would surely start a war between the two houses -- and better yet ensure that you never speak to him again. You were fond of the Stark boy, your friendship with him growing stronger by the day-- killing Brandon would be enough for you to banish Aemond from your life. That he could not risk.
You wait patiently in the library, a chamber so grand with tall shelves full of books centuries old. It always fascinated you as a child and still does to this day. As your fingers skim along the books— searching for the one you wish to read to Brandon, you hear footsteps enter the room.
“This is amazing” Brandon is in awe as he observes the library, a smile grows on your face at the sight of him appreciating the room you spent half of your childhood in.
“It is isn’t it… it’s one of my favourite places here in the Red Keep— probably in all of Kings Landing at that” You hum, finally finding the book you had been searching for and pulling it out.
Neither of you are aware of the man who stands outside the library’s doors, side pressed into the wall as he eavesdrops into your conversation. He’s hurt by your words, you claim this is your favourite place— yet you’ve never mentioned that once to him. You both grew up in this library, Aemond being one with interest in fine literature and history, you knew of this yet you never suggested visiting it together. He’s tempted to walk in and interrupt but he holds back, continuing to hide in the shadows.
“I was an awkward child— I must admit. I preferred books over people most days, I ran away from my duties as a lady to hide in here” You admit to him as you close the book, having read almost half of it already. He rested his head on your lap, staring up at the ceiling in wonder while you read to him.
Aemond was still posted outside, now sitting on the ground with his back pressed against the wall— he couldn’t find the motivation to leave, even after you had read out loud for over an hour. He had other duties he needed to see to before the day was done, but he couldn’t leave. Not when your voice echoed in the room, soothing his ears and finally granting his wish of reading to him that you denied weeks ago. Although you weren’t reading to him, he would take what he could get.
“We’re similar— you and I. In winterfell I would do the same, I hated swordsmanship training— and especially hunting. I cared far too strongly for the animals they carelessly hurt” Brandon admits as he sits up now, facing you as you listen to him talk.
“Till this day I detest hunting, but I do what I must. The only thing I’ve gained from it is my dire wolf Zeus”
“You have a dire wolf as a companion? I’ve always had a love for dogs, but my mother wouldn’t let me have one” You hum as you reflect on the day you had asked your mother for a puppy — you were the age of eight then.
“I would think Dragons best dogs in the ranking of companions” Brandon smiles, teasing you of your wishes for a dog when you already had a dragon.
“More animals to love and cherish wouldn’t hurt. I would love to live on a farmland one day, when I eventually birth children— I want to get away from the noise of this city, take them with me to experience the peace I never did” You admit, pulling at the fabric of the bench you’re sitting on.
You want a simple life.
Aemond thinks to himself, taken aback by your sudden confession. You were expected to have children with Aemond, your family practically counting down the days for when you finally announce your pregnancy. What would they think of you trying to run away to live a life of a peasant. His heart swells at the thought of you carrying his child— allowing his imagination to run wild, he imagines living on the farmland with you— both of you leaving your duties here to fulfill your dreams of a new life.
“If you should ever visit North, I would like you to meet Zeus. I know he’d be as fond of you as I am” Brandon’s words bring a smile to your face, you nod in agreement.
“I would love to meet him”
Aemond remembers your words from earlier in the library of wanting to meet the Stark boy’s dog, the thought playing on his mind as he watches you eat from across from him. He wished for a private dinner, wanting to be alone with just you as he wished to discuss personal matters.
“I have been thinking, dear wife. I would wish for you to meet Vhagar, we’ve been married for almost a full year now— it’s only right you meet my dearest companion” Aemond’s suggestion causes you to drop your hand from your mouth, placing your cutlery down as you look up at him.
“I’ve known Vhagar since I was a young child, Aemond. I have no need to meet her” You dismiss his suggestion, causing him to grow silent at the blatant rejection. It took him almost ten minutes to muster up the courage to even utter those words to you and he didn’t know how to react.
“You needn’t bond with her then. I’ll arrange for us to ride her tomorrow morn, it is most breathtaking” Aemond hums but you still have your doubts.
“I have my own dragon to ride, Aemond. Just as breathtaking as Vhagar” You dismiss him yet again, your words cutting through him like the edge of a sword. Your rejection feels worse than any scar he’s carried on his body, even more so than the scar on his face-- a sore reminder of the eye he lost years ago.
“It was a mere suggestion, beloved wife” Aemond mutters to himself, cheeks warming to a light shade of pink from the slight humiliation he feels from your dismissal. You were willing to see that boy’s dire wolf but you denied seeing the largest dragon in the world.
“How has training with Brandon been?” You change the subject, watching Aemond’s face as you chew on your food. His lip twitches at the sound of his name, a clear indication your husband wasn’t fond of the Stark boy.
“It’s been fine. The boy needs far more work on his stance and the way he carries himself, but he is improving” Aemond says, moving to pour himself some wine and without asking, he pours some into your goblet too.
“I’ve seen him spar, he’s as good as any swordsman here as far as I’m aware” You say, reflecting on when you briefly watched him train the other day. Aemond had hoped that when you looked on that day— you were focused on him, he now knows that Brandon had caught your eye, not him.
“It sounds as if you are in love with the Stark boy” Aemond scoffs, his gaze meeting yours as he sets his goblet down. You can’t help but laugh at his statement, despite not knowing whether it is true or not, you decide to deny it. Though you jest, Aemond does not share the same enthusiasm— a blank look on his face as he stares at you.
“Shall you marry him instead?” Aemond carries on.
“Leave me and move North with the boy so you can birth his babies in the dreaded cold? Is that what you wish for, hm?” Aemond accuses you coldly, bitterness clear in his tone.
“Why do you care? Will you be pained if I did? If I left with him, never to return?” You question him, pushing back in your seat— irritation starting to bubble inside of you at the audacity he has. He falls silent, Aemond wants to tell you it would pain him greatly. That he would rather gouge out his other eye than watch you leave him for good. But he doesn’t, as usual he keeps these honest thoughts in his head.
“If it worries you that I would leave you and this marriage for Brandon— you should be at ease..” You say before you push out of your seat, the bottom of the chair scraping against the floor with a foul screech.
“I won’t. We made a promise to continue this marriage for duty to our family and I intend to honour that” You say in finalisation before you leave the chamber, huffing as you shut the door heavily on your way out.
Aemond tuts as he watches you leave, promising himself that he would get drunk beyond the point of remembering, so drunk he’ll forget the hurt he feels at your words. You wouldn’t stay for him— but you would for your marital duties to the family.
Aemond drinks his sorrows away, ordering the servant every few minutes to refill his cup of wine— and to bring in another jug once that one had run empty. He doesn’t notice the sun setting, or how long he’s been sat in his bedchamber, he only has one thing on his mind.
He wasn’t one to overly indulge in alcohol, never finding much interest in it— Aemond steered clear of the substance. In this moment now, someone would find it hard to believe that it was Prince Aemond stumbling around the Red Keep, mumbling to himself as his mind replays moments of you. He was acting in Aegon’s place of being the drunken son, and for once— he didn’t care what he looked like.
Aemond stumbles on his way toward Vhagar, the beast of a dragon resting and unaware of her rider’s presence. Aemond had never ridden on dragon back drunk, but he was willing to try. He barely processed that he was in the air, his head falling back occasionally as he shuts his eye, visions of you flashing in his mind.
He intends on fucking his frustrations into Alys when he lands, the only way he think he’ll manage through the night. Aemond groans, the thought of Alys— a woman he believed to be his true love, made his stomach turn in discomfort. He loves her, yes— but he can’t help but think of the woman who awaits in her bedchamber in Kings landing.
She’s probably reading.
Aemond thinks to himself, his heart warming at his memory of her being wrapped up in their bedsheets, book so close to her face he could barely see it. He groans again, feeling nauseated as he rides Vhagar through the clouds— shivering from the cold wind that flows through him.
“Stop” Aemond mumbles to himself as he tries to shake his mind of these thoughts of you. You had an agreement.
He fights the urge to fly back to Kings Landing for you, he burns to see your face, feel your touch— kiss your lips as he apologises for his wrong doings. He wants to, but he doesn’t— choosing to clear his head of you, he proceeds to fly toward the city Alys resides in.
—
“She will be of great use, mother. She is a witch— her craft would allow us a great advantage in war if one were ever to occur” Aemond tries to reason with his mother as he and Alys stand before her in her bedchamber. Alicent wears an unreadable expression on her face, one that causes Alys to feel uneasy as she stands beside Aemond.
“We will not use witchcraft in a war— that would be absurd. We would be cheats” Alicent exhales, disappointed by her son’s attempt at trying to weasel this woman into a place at Kings Landing.
“I will be of great use, your grace. I promise” Alys pleads, desperation in her tone. Alicent just tuts as her eyes observe the girl’s features. She looks like her brother. Alicent thinks to herself.
“A promise means little when others start to question who you are and your presence here. Even more so if they learn you are my son’s first love” Alicent stands as she continues.
“We have no place for a witch here, Alys— you are to be flown back to your home by noon. I will hear no more about this” Alicent says in finalisation, causing Alys to drop her head out of respect of the Queen’s decision before she turns to leave the chamber. Aemond moves to follow her, but his mother calling his name stops him.
“You dare bring shame to this family by flying this woman into Kings Landing. You are my brightest child, yet you appear to be as dull as the others” Alicent tuts and she moves closer to her son her stands in silence.
“If you are unhappy with your wife, you do not cheat on her with a woman you have loved before. Your beloved wife does not deserve such treatment, you’re well aware of what her parents would say if they were to find out about this” Alicent scolds him as if he is a child, and Aemond surely feels he is again the age of ten— being chastised for spilling milk.
“Daemon would have your head for a start” Alicent huffs, the mere thought turning her stomach in discomfort.
“Your betrothal to your niece was not a love match— I am well aware, but she has tried countless times to bond with you. To try and find love in your marriage— I can hardly say you’ve done the same” Alicent takes her son’s hands in hers as she squeezes them in reassurance.
“This woman will stay no longer than a day and you will fly her back home before it is done” His mother orders him, causing him to nod in understanding.
“That couldn’t have gone any worse” Alys huffs once she sees Aemond approach her, she moves to grab his hand to entwine them but he pulls it from her grasp.
“I warned you not to show affection here. I am a married man” Aemond tuts as he leads her down the hall back to his bedchamber.
“Married man yet you seek me in the days and nights you wish to relieve your sexual frustrations” Alys’ comment causes Aemond to glance at her with a warning look.
“Careful, witch”
You wear a confused expression as you leave your bedchamber, eyes watching the two that walk down the hall together. Beside Aemond was a dark haired beauty, eyes a warm shade of brown— features resembling of a certain Knight that used to reside here.
She is the beloved Alys. The one whose name tasted of poison to her weeks ago— the woman she would never live up to in Aemond’s eyes. His first love, his only love as far as she was concerned. She sees now why he was so enamoured with her, she’s a beautiful woman.
“Dear wife, I would like you to meet my dear friend, Alys” Aemond announces as he approaches you, you regret only leaving your chamber now— you should have waited a few more minutes.
“You are a beautiful bride, princess. Prince Aemond is a lucky man” Alys greets you, the smile on her face half genuine.
“Thank you, Alys. I have heard many great things about you” You hum, a false smile also gracing your face as you turn to her.
“I wish to talk longer but duty awaits for me elsewhere” You say before you glance at your husband, hoping he doesn’t see the hurt in your eyes at the sight of this woman beside him.
“Something troubles you, princess” Brandon hums, pulling your attention away from the book you’re reading to him. You pause before turning to him— your gaze meeting as you try your best to fake a smile.
“I’m fine— I’m just exhausted” You lie, hoping he would leave it alone. Although you’ve only been friends for weeks now, he could read your emotions like the back of his hand.
“I don’t mean to pry— please forgive me if I offend you, but does it happen to be about your husband— the prince?” Brandon treads carefully as he questions you, observing your face to see if you pull any expressions. You sigh heavily and cave in.
“He is barely my husband— our marriage isn’t ours, it’s sole purpose is to please our family— we both know”
“Yet… I felt conflicted when I saw him with this woman— his first love” You admit, your eyes averting to the grass you pull at beneath you.
“Jealousy isn’t abnormal, sweet girl. Aemond is your husband still, it’s natural for you to feel protective of him” Brandon reassures you, causing you to shrug in thought.
“I don’t feel protective of him… I don’t know what I feel really” You hum, trailing off as you try to find any thought in your mind that wasn’t of Aemond right now. You shouldn’t, not when you have a dear friend right next to you— so kind and open to comforting you as you talk about another man.
“If I were the prince, you would be rest assured that my eyes and heart would only belong to you. There would be no space for another love” He hums, his voice soothing you— his words however, make your cheeks warm at his confession. You smile at him, taking his hand in yours as you squeeze it.
“When you marry, your betrothed will be the luckiest person in all of the seven kingdoms” Your statement brings a smile to his face, but before he can talk any further, you insist on continuing the chapter you were reading.
—
“Aemond is late” His mother tuts as you all wait patiently for him to arrive. He wasn’t usually late to the family dinner’s, in fact he was one of the first to be sat— but today he was abnormally late and you already had a clue as to why. You talk to Helaena who sits across from you, suggesting the two of you walk in the garden later— you’re cut off short when the doors suddenly open.
“Apologies for being late. We just returned on Vhagar” Aemond announces as he and Alys walk in, they weren’t arm in arm but they might as well have been. Their bodies were practically touching as they strode in, the sight making you shift in your seat.
Everyone watches in silence at the sight, confused as to why Aemond had brought along the witch who had been ordered to ride home hours ago. You glance at Aegon, a smirk on his face as he gives you a knowing look— one that suggests he knows of this affair.
“We may begin” Otto announces once Aemond is seated beside me, instructing one of the servants to pull an extra seat for Alys across the table.
You don’t hide your discomfort, a slight frown on your face as your eyes avoid Aemond’s— finding more interest in the decor centre of the table that anywhere else. You feel his eye gazing at you, almost waiting for you to cave in and look at him— but you don’t.
“Wife, how was your day? I have not seen you since yesterday’s supper” Aemond prompts you, finally gaining your attention as you glance at him.
“It was fine. I spent most of it with Brandon” You state, noticing the way Aemond’s lip twitches at the sound of the Stark boy’s name.
“Grand. I toured Alys around Kings Landing skies on Vhagar— a ride you surely would’ve enjoyed if you had come with” Aemond smiles at you, his tone displaying his obvious stab back at you for your rejection of his proposal yesterday. You smile at him, your cheeks sore from all of the false ones you’ve worn today alone.
As dinner proceeds, you stay silent as you chew your food— your dinner tasting stale as you overhear Aemond and Alys converse. He laughs— genuinely laughs at her jests about some tale of some town somewhere. You didn’t care to listen and you wished there were a free seat anywhere else on this table, even if it meant sitting next to Aegon.
“Dear sister, is the food not to your liking?” Aegon catches your attention, your eyes finally leaving your plate as you look across the table. The grin he wears causes anger to rise in you, you know he teases you to stir the pot but you choose to stay resilient and pretend to seem unphased.
“It’s perfectly fine, I just have no appetite— that is all” You dismiss his accusations, catching the way he chuckles before downs his goblet of wine.
“I’ve heard many things of you, Princess” Alys calls to you, your eyes averting from Aegon to the witch who sits beside him.
“Good things, I hope” You hum.
“Mostly… although, prince Aemond has shared some others about you— how you like to read to him, follow him around like a pup and tend to his every need. It’s quite endearing, really” Alys’ tone catches you off guard, she smiles at you and sounds genuine but her words say different. You’re no fool to sarcasm and you weren’t going to let her believe you were.
“I’ve heard many things about you Alys. How unbelievably beautiful you are — your witchcraft so rare, you bewitch all men… even the married ones. So kind, powerful and strong” You accentuate the word, causing her to narrow her eyes at you ever so subtly. You feel Aemond grasp at your hand, giving it a squeeze— a hint for you to stop.
“I feel unwell. I wish to be excused for the evening” You announce as you pull your hand from his, eyes meeting Alicent’s who was sat at the other end of the table.
“But the night has just begun” Aemond tries to intervene, silently pleading his mother to decline your request to leave. She tuts before giving you a small smile, nodding in agreement.
“You may be excused”
Aemond watches as you pull away from the table, leaving with elegance as you stride out of the room. He felt the excitement leave him as you too leave— his only reason to stay at this damn dinner gone. He loses his interest in talking to Alys, his answers barely audible as he picks at the food on his plate.
—
“I have no interest in the dinner. The conversations bore me most of the time, excluding ones I share with Helaena of course” You hum as you stretch, yawning before you lean your head against Brandon’s shoulder.
You had both been sat in your bedchamber for just over an hour— after leaving the dining hall you made your way to his bedchamber, inviting him to yours simply to talk. You didn't intend on being so close to him, mere inches of space between you as you sit alone in private.
“Insatiable you are, sweet girl. You seek conversations that only interest you— you lose reasoning to listen when they don’t” Brandon teases you.
“You couldn’t be more wrong. I listen to your stories without complaining all the time” You laugh, earning a nudge from the boy beside you. Your eyes focus on the flames of the fire that dance infront of you, the fireplace in your bedchamber warming you both.
“You’re the most interesting girl I’ve met. There is no one like you back in Winterfell” Brandon’s tone is serious as he speaks to you now, voice softening— you feel the hand he strokes your side with come to a halt. You sit up, turning to face him as you observe him.
“I wish many things to be different. I wish my family rode here months ago, I wish I had more time with you…” Brandon trails off, sighing heavily— he grabs ahold of your hand, caressing it gently as he avoids your eyes.
“I wish I had taken your hand in marriage before Prince Aemond— maybe then we could’ve both been married in a love match. We’d be truly happy, truly in love” Brandon confesses, the man before you causing your heart to swell at his sweet words. He was a truly beautiful being, he wasn’t afraid to show his love for you, as a friend and now maybe something more. He was everything you had hoped for in your betrothed.
“Brandon” You hum, hand cupping his jaw to lift his gaze to yours. Aemond has Alys, she’s what he wants— who he desires most, now you want to claim yours. You have every right and a sham of a marriage wasn’t going to stop you.
Before he can react, you move forward and press your lips against his, surprisingly he reacts in an instant — hand gripping your waist as your mouths move in sync. He moans against your lips before he pulls away, a furrow between his brows as he shakes his head.
“But the prince— your marriage..” Brandon huffs out, concern clear in his tone. You caress his cheek, moving to press your foreheads together you whisper to him.
“Aemond has his love. You are now mine” Your words are all the confirmation he needs to take the lead, his lips back on yours as his hands move to grip your waist again. He pulls you onto his lap eventually, mouths still joined— he grinds you against him, moaning out when you move against him.
For once today your mind had not been clouded with Aemond, instead it was Brandon— the man beneath you who was now kissing at the nape of your neck who was your main focus.
Aemond excuses himself from the table, having sat there long enough— he decides it’s time he retires to his room. He’ll deal with his mother tomorrow, already hearing her complaints about the witch that still remained in Kings Landing. The witch who he had invited to sit at their dining table.
He walks Alys to her room, declining her invitation inside— he excuses that he is exhausted and leaves without a second thought. You were on his mind, how ravishing you looked at dinner tonight— so defensive and jealous, he feels satisfied with the emotions he evoked from you.
He knew now you didn’t like him with Alys— he was yours, and as far as he’s concerned you were his too. Despite your cold behaviour toward him these previous weeks, you still reacted to his scheme of flaunting Alys around infront of you— just as you had been doing with the Stark boy. You weren’t pleased with her being by his side and the mere fact pleased Aemond greatly.
Aemond walks down his hall triumphantly, a slight smile on his face in thought of you— he hesitates opening the door to his bedchamber when he hears something. Eye narrowing in suspicion, Aemond listens out to the sound— moving to follow where it leads. He was no stranger to the sounds of pleasure, sounds he had heard since the age of ten and three, he was well accustomed to them. It was where they were emanating from that confused him.
He feels his heart stop, as if he had been killed and taken by the Stranger itself— he can barely breathe when he realises the obscene sounds of moaning and slapping of skin is coming from your bedchamber.
No this can’t be.
Aemond thinks to himself, his eye shutting as his hand rests on the door handle. He needed to know— to see with his own eye the sight that lays behind the door. He almost regrets pushing the door open instantly, his jaw clenching as he finally sees you both.
You were naked, head thrown back in pure bliss as you rode the Stark boy, his own eyes shut as he pounds into you. Aemond takes in the way your features tense as pleasure overwhelms you, his satisfaction short lived when he remembers he wasn’t the one beneath you. The one making you writhe in pleasure, or making you moan sweetly— you weren’t clawing at his chest and taking him in your most sacred place.
Aemond shuts the door, knuckles turning white as his hands ball into fists— he storms away from the room. He passes his bedchamber, murder on his mind and an ache in his heart as the moments before him replay in his mind.
—
tag list <3
@lol-im-done @discowizard88 @skinmittensgoblin @shotocr @valeric-writes @theekinslayer @darthdidi @0151imagayone @hydrationqueensworld @mmeerraa @dc-marvel-girl96 @m1ndbrand @watermel0nsugarhigh @iluvvvvalerie @tea-effect @kpopdistoyedmylife-blog @juneisreading @1950schick @tangerineslefttit @godscnt @verycollectivecreator @ladyvlolypop
@flavorofsalt @queenofshinigamis @alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @paprikaquinn @tosuckmyweenis @iiamthehybrid @nairafeather @kambrook123 @ml0103 @rapoficeandfire @l1-l4 @manicspace @taeyooniee @4stralblossoms @anpacax0 @xinyourdreamsx @dumdaradumdaradum @padfooteyes @minaxcarter @merovingianprincess @zillahvathek @are-y0u-sirius @zgzgzh @writer-lee5 @chevelledahuman @bibli0thecary @percyjacksonspeen @aaleksmorozova @olrjmarvete @chiyausu @sapphirehearteyes @schniiipsel @janelei @seafoamwhispers @lugiastark @caramelcandescence @fultimefangirl @esposadomd @baconkath @lyannesworld @backinwonderl4nd @hueanhdang @siriusdumblittlepuppy @kaicyl @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @rosemarytownescarter @anthonys-viscountess @ipadkidsworld @blacpiink @signyvenetia @totallynerdstuff @123forgottherest @tita004 @notabotiswear @hc-geralt-23 @polireader @out-of-life @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp @kitkat-writes-stuff @darthdidi @lttflower99 @cryztalline @carlottalhn @stargaryenx @cheelieve7 @ladybug0095 @fictionalmenloversblog @alysinwonderland-at-tea @fireghost-x
#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#aemond targaryen angst#aemond x reader#house of the dragon#aemond x y/n#house of the dragon aemond#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#prince aemond#aemond imagine#aemond the kinslayer#ewan mitchell
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kiddo
Chapter three
Kiddo masterlist
English is not my first language, be kind.
Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader
•Chapter warnings: obsession, talking of sexual themes, male masturbation, Aemond baing a perv, stalking?•
Two weeks after the encounter.
Aemond gritted his teeth in frustration as he navigated through the busy city streets, cursing under his breath at the unexpected interruption to his plans. Jason Lannister was an annoying client, but he had to endure him, especially considering the size of his investments.
He was not someone he could afford to lose, or well, his father. Jason played the boss in the father’s company, acting like he was on top of the world.
He wasn’t.
As he approached the office building where Jason was waiting, Aemond's mind raced with calculations and strategies. He needed to handle this meeting with finesse, to ensure that Jason remained satisfied with their business relationship.
Still, he was boiling with rage.
He hadn’t been able to even catch a glimpse of his girl, and he still hasn't taken a photo of her. He had nothing of her, aside from her fascicle, filled with personal information, that somehow didn’t allow him to actually know her.
Pulling into the parking garage, Aemond quickly made his way to the lobby, his pace brisk and confident. He entered the elevator, his mind already formulating a plan of action as he tried to focus his mind on the business.
Stepping out into the hallway, Aemond squared his shoulders and composed himself, ready to face whatever demands Jason might have. He strode into the office, his expression cool and composed. He walked to his office, as his secretary looked at him.
“Order me lunch, I’ll eat in my office as soon as Jason leaves.” He says coldly, as her secretary nods.
“Yes sir, do I send Mr. Lannister in your office?” She asks and Aemond nods, getting in his office, making sure nothing is out of place. He hears the door open behind him and he turns to greet Jason,
“Aemond.” Jason smiles as he raises his hand to shake Aemond’s. Aemond nods in greeting and shakes his hand.
"Jason, please, sit." Aemond extends his arm to invite Jason to the office armchairs, his voice steady and controlled. "I apologize for the delay. I trust you've been taken care of in my absence?"
Jason smirks and nods, his expression unreadable as he regarded Aemond with a calculating gaze. "I've been adequately entertained," he replied, his tone amused and malicious. He sits comfortably on the armchair and smells the air.
“This is new, a fragrance?” Jason chuckled.
Shut up.
“Mh, vanilla. I love it. When a girl has it on herself…” He smirks at Aemond.
Shut up.
“Talking of, is your secretary… you know?” He looks at him.
“No.” Aemond answers glacially, staring at Jason.
“No? Not even with you?” He gives him a knowing glance, as Aemond feels the urge to throw up.
“No relationships in the office, it only makes things more complicated, trust me.”
“No.”
“Might try with her then, she’s sexy. If that doesn’t bother you.”
“If she wants you.” Aemond got up to fill two glasses with his whiskey. He then handed one to Jason, as he sat back. Jason took a sip and hummed, appreciating the whiskey as he looked at his glass.
"I was hoping to speak with you personally." He says, finally, back to business.
Aemond nodded.
"Of course."
Jason leaned back in his armchair, his gaze never leaving Aemond's face.
"I have some concerns about the recent fluctuations in the market," He began, his voice measured and deliberate. "I need reassurance that my investments are secure."
Aemond's mind raced as he formulated his response, careful to choose his words wisely. "Rest assured, Jason, your investments are our top priority," He assured him, his tone confident and reassuring. "We have a team of experts monitoring the market around the clock, and I can personally guarantee that your assets are in good hands."
Jason nodded, seeming somewhat appeased by Aemond's response.
"Very well," he said, his tone still tinged with skepticism. "But I'll be keeping a close eye on things. If I sense any hint of instability, I won't hesitate to take my business elsewhere."
Aemond maintained his calm facade, his mind already working on strategies to ensure Jason's continued satisfaction.
"Of course, if you’ll be able to find someone better than us." he replied smoothly, arrogantly. "But I'm confident that won't be necessary."
Jason looked at him, finishing his glass, recognising his threat was empty.
There was no one better. No one better than him.
With that, the meeting concluded, and Aemond watched as Jason exited the office, his mind already turning to the next steps in securing their business relationship. As the door closed behind him, Aemond finished his glass and got up to sit on his desk chair. His secretary brought his lunch, and he thanked her.
He took the fascicle of his girl from the desk drawer.
Y/N Y/L/N.
Targaryen would sound better with her name.
Y/N was born on 25/09/2008 in [Unknown], in the birth certificate they put Vinìsenya'sHill.
Currently residing in a foster home in Visenya's Hill.
Her parents are unknown, they left her nameless at the doors of the foster house.
She is a dedicated student at High School, where she excels academically and actively participates in extracurricular activities, like photography, art sculpture and painting.
She liked art. She's artistic.
Aemond didn’t like art. He found it useless. Dumb. He enjoyed a good painting when it actually represented something, not when it was a twisted form, incapable to be understood.
Following there were her school reports. She was smart, she had really good grades.
Then why the fuck does she paints?
He would accept all of her paintings anyway. Waste of time or not. He would make her paint her body, naked, and he would hang it in his bedroom.
He would cum on that painting.
Aemond groaned and squeezed his temples with his hand.
Something was seriously wrong with him, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
Did he want to fix it?
Maybe.
No.
He finished his lunch and hid the fascicle back in his drawer. He had to get over this day. He needed to. He will find her after.
He got up from his desk, shutting his laptop closed angrily.
He had never been so distracted.
He took his coat and locked the drawer with her fascicle.
He had never been that hard.
She wasn’t even there, it was just the thought of her. He wanted to work his usual until 11 pm, but he had enough. It was 4 pm, and he knew she stayed at school a bit later than the other students. He got out of his office.
“I’m going home earlier today.” He quickly said to his secretary. “Go home if you want.”
He didn’t wait for her answer, he quickly walked to the elevator and got to his car, striding away.
He parked outside her school, and he waited for her in his car. He didn’t dare to step out.
She was there.
Aemond felt his heart in his ears. He felt like his whole body was pumping at the rhythm of his heart.
She was standing on a bus stop, alone. All the other students were gone.
Aemond quickly took his phone, and took a picture of her.
She was even more beautiful than how he remembered. Her hair moved because of the wind, her skin, soft, her eyes focused on a book. She was wearing an old pair of jeans, visibly from second hand, and a cardigan.
She looked so innocent. So pure.
Aemond wasn’t sure when, but he realized too late.
He kept massaging his cock from over his pants, as he kept staring at her. He leaned back on the seat enjoying his perfect sight of her, even if from distance. He unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them, pulling them down in a quick movement.
He needed it.
He needed this relief, so maybe he would be back to normal. Maybe, if he’d cum because of her, he would be free.
He tugged down his boxers, enough to let his dick pop out.
He was tremendously hard.
He felt like a teeneger that couldn’t control himself, and he hated it.
She was doing all of this to him, and she didn’t even know. She was just standing there, serene, waiting for her shitty bus.
He could take her home. He’d be her personal driver. She could pay him with her body, any part of it would be enough for him.
He gripped his cock with his hand, trying to keep a slow rhythm.
She wore long jeans, it was a shame that she covered her beautiful legs.
He would fuck those too. Push his cock between her thighs, stimulate her clit with the tip or his fingers.
He groaned and he leant his head back, but he kept his eye on her, fisting his cock harder.
He would break her just by putting it in.
Aemond was confident about his sexuality, and his skills in sex. He knew his cock was out of the ordinary, longer than the average, thicker.
He didn’t care, he would prepare her for hours if he had to. He was willing to go slow to not hurt her.
His breath got heavier as the windows of his car glazed. He kept fisting himself furiously.
Even if…
He kept himself from moaning.
Even if the idea of breaking her because of his cock almost made him cum.
He held back, and slowed down as she raised her head, looking around, probably to check if the bus was coming.
The bus wasn’t but Aemond was close to.
He began to move again, his hand squeezing his cock tightly, just like he knew her cunt would.
He wanted her. He wanted her whole. He wanted her holes. All of them, all of her.
He groaned lowly as he finally felt his orgasm, and his seed spattered in his hand and his car. He relaxed back in his car seat, staring at her.
She smiled as she saw her bus arrive. She put away her book, as she suddenly looked at his car, before the bus covered his sight of her.
Watch me. Watch what you’ve done to me.
She went away with the bus.
Aemond groaned, and he grabbed some tissue from his pocket, cleaning his mess as he could.
He was disgusting.
He fixed his boxers and pants, buttoning them up.
He was a perv.
He turned on the engine.
He was satisfied.
He had to fight the urge to follow the bus.
Fuck.
He took a deep breath and closed his eye.
She was still there, in his mind. She was still. Fucking. There.
He drove off and went back home. He didn’t know why this girl affected him that much. She was nothing he hadn't seen before.
He had a way of lying to himself.
It was obvious she didn’t have a lot of money. He didn’t care, he had more than enough for both of them. He had more than enough for both of them and their future children. He knew they would have plenty, just the idea of making her round with his seed…
A horn pulled him out of that beautiful image, as he went back to reality. He sighed and he quickly drove home.
The doorman of the building greeted him with a nod that Aemond returned. He walked in the elevator and he pressed the sixteenth floor.
He leans back on the elevator wall, looking at the reflection of himself on the mirrors.
He could look like a freak.
White hair, pale, a fake white eye, the scar. He was big, tall. He would completely tower her and surround her just by standing close to her.
He exited the elevator as soon as the doors opened, and he walked in his flat, taking off his shoes and his jacket, pulling the shirt out of the pants, loosening his tie.
He walked in the kitchen, taking a glass of cold water.
She was still there.
He had to meet her.
If he’d meet her, he was sure she would go away and leave him alone.
Tag: @zenka69 @blaustappen @julczimozart @diannnnsss @i66cilla @odeioemail @queenofthekeep @summerposie @tssf-imagines @vaylint @sweet-nothings-s @esposamultifandom @av989436751 @ladythornofrivia @xcinnamonmalfoyx
#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#aemond x reader#aemond x you#modern aemond#aemond#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x y/n#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#prince aemond targaryen#house of the dragon aemond#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond one shot#aemond targaryen angst#dark aemond x reader#hotd aemond#aemond the kinslayer#aemond fluff#aemond targaryen fluff
288 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Perfect Score | Series Masterlist | FigureSkating!AU | modern!Aemond x reader
COMPLETED
Summary: Striving for a place in the Olympics, Aemond desperately needs to find another partner to step in when his becomes injured. With little experience in couples figure skating as well as Aemond’s closed-off and antisocial nature, it will be a challenge to work with him.
Warnings: enemies to lovers, some angst, competitiveness, toxic parenting, smut, NSFW 18+
Chapter 1: Ice Cold
Chapter 2: Sub-Zero
Chapter 3: Goosebumps
Chapter 4: Thin Ice
Chapter 5: Ice Princess
Chapter 6: Winter is Coming
Chapter 7: Avalanche
Chapter 8: The Fallout
Chapter 9: Thawed Out
Chapter 10: A Song of Ice and Fire
Epilogue
Lovely fanart <3
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond stannies#house of the dragon aemond#aemond angst#aemond fluff#aemond smut#prince aemond#Aemond Targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen fanfiction#modern!Aemond x you#modern!Aemond Targaryen x you#modern!aemond targaryen#modern!aemond#modern!aemond targaryen x reader#modern!Aemond smut#prince aemond targaryen#aemond targayren smut#Aemond Targaryen fanfic#aemond fanfic#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#modern!aemond fic#aemond x you#Aemond x Reader#aemond targaryen x y/n
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Helloooo love! I'm a fan lurking in the dark with a request idea for Aemond x Reader. Would love to see your take on Aemond trying to win Reader back (his wife) after she found out about Alys. Maybe this happens after the "Dance" , Aemond survives and they have to deal with the aftermath of Alys. Reader loved him with everything she had so she feels betrayed and turns cold to him and maybe because of Alys, something also happened to her (idk lost pregnancy perhaps but PLEASE exclude this if you don't feel comfortable writing it). Basically take everything you find interesting from this request and work your magic - I trust you like no other!!! Thank you I send you all the love there is - you are very very talented and please know there are many like me that think you are truly brilliant, I know it!!! :*:*
Authors Note: Oh my god thank you this is so freakin sweet! 🥺 I’m happy to take the request and spin my take on this, hope you enjoy it! :)
Also, some of the stuff Is made up like the time between Daemons death and end of the war. I don’t know it so I made it up. If you don’t like it take it up with my dms
Word count: 2.6K
Warnings: Cheating, miscarriage though it’s not explicit, she’s kinda depressed? Not sure how to describe it,
Taglist: @blue-serendipity
The Sequels: The Depressive one, The happy One
—————
If Aemond ever regretting not killing anyone throughout the war he technically started, most would’ve immediately assumed that he wished he never killed his nephew. Though they were wrong. Yes, Lucerys’ death became one of the many causes of the war and in turn deaths of so many people, but his death didn’t result in the loss of you and your child.
Alys’ death could’ve though.
When he first met Alys, he had been nearly immediately enraptured and enamoured by had. She was quite different to you. While you had always been headstrong and never afraid to tell Aemond what he needed to do or to be, Alys had been more docile and had no issue in telling Aemond all the things he wanted to hear.
He regretted the first time he laid with Alys in his bed. Though that regret went away the more time he spent with her and the more times he laid with her. He begun to think of possibly taking after Aegon the conqueror, thinking he’d have both you and Alys by his side when Aegon most likely drank himself to death.
That fantasy was soon ruined when he got that letter.
Dear Aemond,
Do you think of me as a fool? I know about that fucking woman Aemond. I know about Alys. I don’t know why you have decided to betray our marriage and honestly, I don’t think care I can bring myself to think about it nor care anymore. This letter was originally going to be happy. A letter letting you know what we prayed near everyday from the seven had finally come true and been answered. I was with child. Our child made purely of what I had thought was love. Though that changed when I was informed of what you had done. I mourned for what we could’ve had. I cried and refused to believe it at first, though soon I came to my senses. Yet it was too late. Our child is dead Aemond. I woke up a few days ago to heavy blood staining our bedsheets. The child was barely two months according to the maester. I wish for you to know it is your fault Aemond. I do not wish to ever see you again. I wish to never hear from you so if you attempt to reconcile or send a letter I will pay for our child’s blood with your own. You have dug your grave Aemond. Don’t try and dig it deeper. If you are to die in battle, I hope it is painful. I hope you suffer like I have.
From, your wife
From your former wife
Aemond had felt his heart plummet to the floor when he read that letter. He could not stop the tears that fell to the floor and stained the letter he still was holding. The ink blotting and staining the page so much the words were becoming near illegible.
He attempted to head into battle with the faint hope that you’d forgive him if he killed his uncle. Though even he knew deep down that no amount of deaths could fix anything. Yet even still he tried. He defeated Daemon, with blood of which Targaryen man he did not know staining and pooling on his ripped armour.
Aemond came home where he was met with his mother and brother, who both congratulated him on his victory. Though even with their congrats he could see the disgust that lingered in his mothers gaze as she looked at him. It made his shame all that more prominent.
He would’ve gone to see you, but Aegon stopped him before he could, claiming he was holding a feast in his name for the defeat of Daemon. He tried to look for you in the amount of people that came, yet he couldn’t. And he didn’t dare ask his mother if you would be coming in fear of her glare and disappointment.
That night he wonders something. Maybe it would’ve been better if he did die by the hand of his uncle? Then it would’ve saved him from all this torture. Though he can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Aemond can only wallow in his drinks that he keeps being given and his own sorrow.
Aemond was back home. The words the maids said echoed in your head. He’s here, and no doubt going to attempt to reconcile. If there was one thing you ever learnt about your husband, was that he never quit at anything he started.
You already made bets with yourself on how he’d attempt to do it.
Maybe he’ll try flowers? No that’s too much of a common move for Aemond to pull… Maybe he’ll bring you some jewellery? No that’d make him feel like he was buying for your forgiveness. Like he was buying something for a mistress. Well… he’s been there and done that…
There is always the chance Aemond will not even attempt to reconcile. Hopefully becoming too overcome by the grief and pain of the loss of his and your child that he’d respect your wishes after reading your own pain on paper. The maids still look at you worriedly, especially when they find you sitting near the window. You know why they worry, you mourned Helaena and Jahaerys and you know you will not become like her.
Aegon was also the one who told you about Alys, and when you lost your child and screamed for the whole of the castle to hear, it was Aegon who ran to you to mourn with you and hold you while you cried for a life you may have been able to have. He held you in the way a brother would hold a sister. He even cried with you and helped clean you of the blood. Oh the blood…
———
It’s been a few long months, but the war between the greens and the blacks is finally over. Aegon is celebrating by holding a massive banquet and all the lord and ladies who supported him are invited. Even though Aemond knows it will not happen, he secretly hopes you will come to celebrate.
Though as he keeps sneaking glances at the door all night he eventually comes to term with the fact you’re not coming. He can only swallow more bitter wine and ignore the fact he’s drinking it like a fish in water now.
He’s attempted to reconcile from a distance ever since the incident but everything he has sent to your chambers has come back in shreds. The flowers from the garden you loved to look after, heads torn from their stems and cut into a thousand pieces. The books he sent on your favourite topic, you had more restraint on them and simply chucked them from your window onto unsuspecting bystanders bellow.
Aegon told him delightfully how after he delivered the books to you, they were seen immediately thrown from the window and one had supposedly managed to hit one knight straight on the head, effectively knocking him out cold.
Though if anything those small acts of defiance made Aemond wish to reunite and return to you even more. It reminded him just why he fell in love with you in the first place. Your wit and your wisdom made him fall head over heals for you, literally.
He had tripped in front of you and some other ladies of the court due to the load of books he was carrying. He had not yet gotten used to the visual impairments the loss of his eye provided and did not see the thrown goblet in his path. Aemond had effectively turned scarlet when the ladies began to mockingly giggle at him, it nearly made his heart beat straight from his chest when he saw you come to his help. “You need to get some help with those. It’s not that bad to ask for help you know? Means you aren’t a stubborn twat.” You grin.
He wished he could go back to those days. They were simpler. They held no knowledge of the war they would face. It held no knowledge of the bastard from Harrenhal.
Aemond had not tried to reunite with you in person. He knew you’d most definitely follow through with your threat and spill his blood. It’s why he attempted to send you items instead through the maids. Though it’s very obvious those weren’t working either. That’s when he got the idea to write you letters. There was easily a chance that you would burn them or tear them the moment you saw the writing. Yet even then Aemond knew he had to try…
———
“Princess. I have another item sent from the prince for you.” One of the maids said as she carefully approached your bed. The sun had already hit its peak that day, though you could not bring yourself to get out of bed. The only time you could bring yourself too was either with the help of your maids, or when Aemond sent a supposed gift to you which you’d immediately destroy.
“What is it this time?” You sigh. “Is it something that I am supposed to eat? Because if it is i’d like it if you took to the servants quarters and give it to them and not-“
“It’s not food related my princess. It’s a letter.” When you look towards the maid you can see the sad expression clear on her face. This maid has brought you many of Aemonds attempts at reconciliation.
“What is your name?” It does not give you any sort of pleasure when the maid looks shocked at the fact a princess is asking for the name of a maid. “Its not a trick question I want to know your name.”
“Klarisa my princess. My name is Klarissa.”
“Klarisa do you think I should read the letter my bastard of a husband as written to me?” You look carefully at Klarisas face, the decision of your lifetime hanging in a mere maids hands.
“To be honest with you my lady…” Klarisa takes a deep breath and puts on a sympathetic face. You appreciate that she wishes to give you honesty, though that sympathetic face makes you want to punch her. “What the prince did was inexcusable after the way the two of you acted before… her. You got to have a husband who loves you and cared for you, that itself is much more than most of the women who are forced into a marriage can hope for. The prince is trying to make up for it and is also respective your boundaries. Not many could say that they got to have a husband who did even one of those things. So yes my princess, I believe you should read the letter.” You take a deep breathe and loosen your hands, which seemed to have clenched so tightly your nails all but pierce into your palms.
“Give me the letter then leave. If you see the prince, do not tell him that you for once got me to think about even looking at his weak apologies. Just put your head down, and walk away. Do you understand Klarisa?”
“Yes my princess.” Klarisa moves swiftly to the doors to your chambers, opening it and moving forward, only to stop for a moment and turn on her heels towards to. “I hope you get what it is you seek my princess. For your own sake.” She turns back to the door and closes it behind her, leaving you alone with the letter in your hand which already feels like it’s burning you. Yet you prevail, and slowly open the letter to read it.
Dear ñuha jorrāelagon,
I will not waste my breath in attempting to gain your forgiveness. I know better than anyone that when you stick your mind to something you keep it that way. Though what I will say is the truth, which I know will hurt you and anger you more than anything but i know it’s what you wish to hear.
Alys was a woman I believed to be falling in love with. She was something what I believed I needed in my life. A woman to be docile and to whisper all the things I needed to hear in my ear. Though after your letter, it became my wake up. I cut off all contact with Alys after realising how much I hurt you. I regret that woman everyday I have not been with you. You are the only woman I need to be with. I love that you are not docile and will not take any man’s shit (as you so clearly and often tended to put it). I love that you challenge me and encourage the debates we so often hold. I love you Rhaella, more than any woman before in my life. I’m sorry it took another woman and the life of our child for me to realise it. I understand wholeheartedly if you wish to never speak to me again. But I hope with this letter, if you ever do decide to read this, which after all my other attempts seem unlikely, you at least know that there will not be a single day that I do not wish that I did not kill that woman when I killed all the other strongs. You are my life. My world. And I hope you know that.
From, Aemond Targaryen
You’ve never felt like you wanted to cry this much since you lost your sweet baby. You can feel the tears leaking down your face the entire time you read Aemonds words. Some of your tears drip onto the page, leaving some of the words to blur together into illegible blobs of black ink.
You feel the urge to destroy the letter. The same urge and desire you felt when you got into contact with all of Aemonds other gifts. Though you resist this time, and instead of destroying the letter, you smooth it out and place it delicately under the mass amounts of pillows that seem to always near take over your bed. That night, for the first night of the many you’d stayed in your room during your isolation period, you slept the whole night in your bed with no nightmares to wake you screaming.
———
When Aemond was standing in the corridor in the shadows and hadn’t picked up on any whispers from the maids passing him of any destruction or damage coming from your chambers, he assumed you must have kept the letter.
He does not hold though any hope that you read it. For all he knows you’ve simply just ignored it or ripped it and used it to keep your fire alight.
When he is waiting for the maid to come out of your room though, he could not help but feel hopeful when the maid takes longer than usual to come out of your room. “Well?” He asks as he steps from the shadows when the maid eventually comes out and nearly passes him. He does not dare to actually ask whether or not you took it. Even though he so selfishly wish to help hold her down and demand for
It surprises him and angers him when the maid looks at him and yet does not acknowledge him. What did you tell her? What does she know?
Aemond grabs the arm of the maid as she attempts to pass him without any real acknowledgment. “Your prince asked you a question.” He growls. He nearly felt sympathy for the woman when she looked at him with fear in her eyes. But he is not Aegon. He can control his desires towards the maids.
“The princess asked that I not speak to you. Please let go of my arm, my prince…” The maid half begs. Aemond lets go of her arm reluctantly after a moment of thinking. Why would you tell the maid to not talk to him? Maybe you really read the letter and do not wish to appear weak to him? Though only if you knew that you could never be weak in his eyes, his strong independent wife.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond fic#prince aemond#aemond x reader#aemond x fem!reader#aemond targaryen/reader#aemond x you#hotd aemond#house of the dragon aemond#aemond the kinslayer#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen imagine#aegon targaryen#the death of a life au
2K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
abstractdreamer81-blog
Strawberry Sunshine
abstractdreamer81-blog
Strawberry Sunshine
soggypastas
Soggypastas (DEACTIVATED)
abstractdreamer81-blog
Strawberry Sunshine
xaccainthespace
Senza titolo