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Knight Aemond x Princess Reader mood board

Masterlist: The Hunt ; Night Off ; Neglectful Jealousy ; Devious Forgiveness ; Innocent Touch

Related Blog: @eraenaa (longer fics and one shots)

Your knight, Aemond, who was always by your side, no matter how much you tried to bribe him, he will not fall for it. He was always trailing you, refusing you to be out of sight, not because of duty but because he simply needed to be around you.

You knight, Aemond, who will always savor your scent whenever you are near him. Who would always find an excuse to touch your skin, may it be him offering his hand as you walked down the stairs or him wrapping his arms around your frame whenever the measliest of threats arose, disguising his passion as protection.

Your knight, Aemond, who would always stare down and intimidate any suitor of yours. Trailing closely behind as you tried to get to know them, always quick to go in between and meddle when he felt you were warming up with any lord or prince. Unable to stomach seeing you grow agreeable with your courtships.

Your knight, Aemond, who was always there the second you called for him. It does not matter if he has barely rested or eaten; the moment you send for him, he will be rushing down the castle halls, tending to your needs, no matter how insignificant or even frivolous they are. 

Your knight, Aemond, who would always listen intently to your babbling. Nodding along as you tell him your encounters for the day though he already knew because he was always by your side. Occasionally indulging you with his silver-tongued quips as he would sometimes be the one to share with you the latest gossip in court. 

Your knight, Aemond, who had been growing quite obvious with his affection for you. Sending you small tokens and flowers. He would often utilize the lie that the gifts were sent by an unnamed lord when, in reality, they all came from him. 

Your knight Aemond, who knew fully well that yearning for you would make no difference because whatever love you two would have for each other would be a love that would be denied and could not be, for how could a knight ever deserve a princess? 

Your knight, Aemond, who would settle to just being your sworn protector just as long as he had you near. Because as dreadful it was to see you be bound to another, nothing would compare to not having you near him; at those moments when he stood by your side, he indulged himself with a fantasy and pretended that you were his. 

The Greatest

A sequel to I was all over her 

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female! Reader

Genre: angst, smut?!, gore, not proof read, spoilers for episode 5 & 6 for hotd s2, mdni!

WC: 9555

Summary: Aemond Targaryen and the dance told by the eyes of his wife, Lady Tyrell. 

Thank you @uhnanix for making this canon<3 

Also I am not comfortable with the use of [y/n], so the reader wil be addressed as Lady Tyrell! This fic could also be a stand alone fic, but if you want to read the first part you can go ahead and read I was all over her // main masterlist💌 Enjoy!

“Prince Aemond, wait!” 

Clutching the skirt of her sage green dress, the young lady Tyrell ran through the highgarden’s maze, made out of thorns and hedges making it hard for anyone to see anything behind the tall and thick edges of the maze wall. In an effort to keep up with the older Targaryen boy, she called out to him,

 “Prince Aemond! Where are you?” Taking a turn through the maze, in hopes to find her companion. 

“You’re too slow,” Aemond suddenly said behind her, tapping her feet with his wooden sword. 

“Ow!”

“Stop complaining.”

He took note not to bring a real sword in their activities in order not to cut her by accident.

 “Ow..it’s not my fault you run so fast,” Lady Tyrell complained again. 

“I thought you wanted to play,” Aemond said smugly. 

“Might I remind you that I’m still a lady,” she answered him. Aemond simply rolled his eyes and passed through her, “Come along now.”

They walked deeper into the maze as Aemond dictates her on her High Valyrian. “How do you say Goodbye?” Aemond asks. 

“Geros Ilas.”

“Thank you?”

“Kirimvose.”

“Now, where is the way out?” 

The both of them stopped in front of three different pathways. “Which one is it? Point it to me in High Valyrian,” Aemond said to her. Even as a child, he has always been hard on her. Maybe he just wanted her to excel in High Valyrian, she thought to herself. Being a resident at the highgarden makes her very familiar with the exits and dead ends in the maze, yet she tried to recall the High Valyrian word for north. 

“Ehm…jelmor…?” She pointed hesitantly to the pathway straight ahead. “Jelmor…north,” Aemond nodded with a satisfied smirk. That confirmation brought joy to her as she skipped ahead of him walking down the path towards the exit of the maze. Yet seeing his very sophisticated stance, the young lady Tyrell slowed down and tried to walk like him. Her hands swing awkwardly. A comfortable silence swept between the two children. 

“Why didn’t Aegon play with us?” 

“He had to study,” Aemond answered coldly. 

“Why?”

“Preparing to be king,” Aemond said again, swinging his wooden sword as it hit the hedges of the maze. Feeling her eyes on him, Aemond curiously glanced at her. “What?”

“Do you want to be King?” 

She saw how her question made him freeze. Stopping his tracks in the middle of the maze. As children, she was innocent and never thought about his ambitions or any resentment towards Aegon. But little did she know, her question triggered something in him. “More than anything,” he finally answered before walking ahead of her. “Why?” She curiously asked. Aemond threw a glance at her, “I will be powerful, and I will have a dragon.” Lady Tyrell tilted her head in confusion before jogging up to him. “But it’s boring! You will have duties. Lots and lots of duties!” She exclaimed, spreading her arms wide to symbolize the pile of duties he will have as a king. 

“So?” 

His response made her groan.

“So! You won’t have any time to play!”

“You don’t get to play when you’re king- you wouldn’t understand.”

Aemond grunts as he tries to walk faster than her. But Lady Tyrell didn’t give up and jogs up beside him once more. “Well, I’m glad I wouldn’t understand. I don’t want to be king anyways,” she said, crossing her arms as she walked beside him. “You’re a girl, you don’t get to be king. If you do, you’d probably be a queen,” Aemond said with an annoyed tone, yet she missed how his tone softened at the end. 

“Well I don’t care. I don’t want to be one. ‘Cause it means I’m gonna miss out on all of the adventures in the world!” Running ahead, she cartwheeled with a giggle. As she stood right back up, she saw his impressed expression. “I’ve never seen a girl do that. Where did you learn that?” Aemond asked, intrigued. “My brothers taught me,” she said, dusting off her skirt. Plucking a flower from the edge of the maze, she hummed a tune her mother would sing to her before she goes to sleep. “I don’t think I care about being King. I like who I am right now,” she said to him- or to herself as she plucked the petals of the flowers. 

He loves me, 

He loves me not, 

He loves me, 

He loves me not, 

He loves me. 

Aemond loves me.

She smiled to herself before Aemond caught up to her.

“You know what? I think you’re right. Being King would be boring. I think I’d rather play with you.”

-

I'm trying my best

To keep you satisfied

Let you get your rest

While I stayed up all night

“My dear?”

Her mother’s words snapped her out of her daydream. Turning her head, Lady Tyrell could only blink. She has been staring down to the highgarden’s maze from her window. It has been almost a whole moon since she left Kings Landing- since she left her husband. “I-I’m sorry mother, I haven’t been…paying attention,” she says in defeat. “Clearly,” her mother sighs and sits beside her on the edge of her bed. 

“You have been distracted since your return from Kings Landing. Your eyes are tired my dear, when was the last time you slept? Is something bothering you, my sweet?” Her mother asks, stroking her hair gently. “N-no, mother. I’m fine.” Her mother sensed how troubled she looked, but she decided not to ask any further to avoid anger out of her daughter. “Any letters from Helaena?” Her mother asks, changing the subject. 

“I don’t think Helaena is fond of letters, mother.” 

“How was she then? I haven’t seen her since your wedding-,”

“--Not good. She hasn’t been doing well since…you know what happened.”

Blood and Cheese. 

And she was there. 

She could’ve prevented it but-.

“I can’t believe they let those disgusting men in the castle. Even the highgardens have never had such murderous intruders,” her mother complained, rubbing her forehead. 

“They are at war-,”

“A war between kin- a war that will shed more blood in the future. And I won’t let your or our blood be spilled.” 

Cupping her cheeks, her mother shakes her head with a trembling sigh. “I shouldn’t have let them marry you. Now you’re trapped with duty because your husband decided to murder his nephew-,”

“--mother!--,”

“--You know well it was caused by your husband! And now you’ll be left childless–,”

“--Mother, the war started before he was even born, you know that more than anyone! And Aemond does not have time for me or to even bed me! He. Is. At War- We. Are at war.”

Yet he had the time to bed that whore. He had the time to sneak out to the brothels every night. While you had to endure the haunting silence of your own chambers in the keep. And while you had to endure the pain of the loss of his nephew once more. 

Lady Tyrell wasn’t stupid, she knew well the war was triggered because of his mistakes. The death of Jaehaerys was at his fault. How the pain of his family, and her own were triggered by him just because he couldn’t fight his own demons and pain. But even after everything, she couldn’t say all of those things out loud. Not to her mother, not to the world, not to even herself. Not because to preserve his honor, but her own. 

“War? Your father and I does not want to be involved in this bloodshed—,”

“—But you have. The day you wed me to him.” 

Her mother could say nothing as she could only stare and take in what her daughter had laid out to the ground. Nothing but facts. For they have said their allegiance the day their daughter married the Targaryen prince. Neutrality isn’t the answer. “And for now, I only wish for nothing but the safety of my husband. And my own, mother,” Lady Tyrell says sternly. For she realized how little she has done for herself, yet so much for Aemond. And what did it cost her?

Everything.

“You are angry.”

Lady Tyrell looks at her mother, puzzled.

“How could you say that?”

Her mother could only chuckle.

“I too also have a husband. I know what it feels to be powerless.” 

Tapping her chin up, her mother smiles. “Keep your head up high, my dear. You are a Tyrell. A rose with thorns. Don’t let anything, even a dragon snap your thorns away from you.”

As if it was yesterday, the moon was high as Lady Tyrell looked out from the window. A quiet night, she thought. “Up to bed now,” she heard Helaena say to the twins who were still playing with their toys, their laughter filling the room. The sight of her new nephew and niece warmed her heart. Lady Tyrell couldn’t stop herself from joining them, being their usual tickle monster. “Climb to your beds or the tickle monster will catch ya!” Jaehaerys and Jaehaera squealed with laughter as they scurried away to their own beds. Helaena smiled, “Thank you. They are quite difficult when it comes to bedtime.” Helaena said, caressing Jaehaerys’ hair gently as he tucks himself into his blankets.  

“What can I say, they’re still children. They would do anything to play all day,” Lady Tyrell said. “Will you play with us tomorrow?” Jaehaera asked. “Of course I will,” she replied to her sweet niece and kissed her head. “Sweet dreams you two.” Helaena could only stare at the twins for a moment before turning into her new sister in law. “What if…there is no tomorrow?” Her tone was uncertain and scared. “Helaena, there is a tomorrow. As long as the sun rises, we will be okay,” Lady Tyrell reminded the Queen that she is proud to call her sister now. Approaching her, Lady Tyrell took Helaena’s hands into hers, “What is on your mind?” 

Swallowing a lump in her throat, the queen speaks, “I am afraid. Of the rats. I do not wish to leave them alone for tonight.” Glancing to the twins who're already fast asleep, she sighs. “Would you like me to accompany you and the twins for tonight?” Lady Tyrell asked. Helaena quickly nodded, gripping her hands. “Yes, please.” She nodded back to Helaena and gently lets go of her hands. “Alrigh then, I shall inform Ser Criston about my stay so he could guard us for the night.” 

Turning towards the doors, she expected Ser Criston to be stationed in front of Helaena’s chambers. 

Yet when she opened it, no one was outside. 

Just an empty hallway. 

Where is ser Criston?

Lady Tyrell sighed, shaking her head as she was disappointed at ser Criston’s ignorance towards his duty as Kingsguard. “He is not here,” Lady Tyrell informed Helaena, shutting the chamber doors behind her. “I shall inform Aemond tomorrow about this.” Sitting down onto a cushion beside the fireplace, she saw how occupied Helaena was, staring at her children. Like as if she was scared about their wellbeing. 

“Helaena, I swear to you they will be alright for tonight. The rats won’t bite them or you,” Lady Tyrell reassured her. But Helaena shook her head. “It does not bite. It brings a knife with it.” 

“A knife? Helaena, what are you talking abou-.”

The door swung open. 

A man stood there with his knife. A familiar face that lurks through the red keep.

A ratcatcher with a knife. 

Danger. 

She stepped in front of the queen, shielding Helaena from that man. 

“You are not welcome in this place.” 

The man could only smirk, “You’re Aemond Targaryen’s wife, aren’t ya?” His knife pointed at her. “What do you want?” Lady Tyrell asked, not wanting to give any satisfaction. “Where is he?” The ratcatcher asked, yet it was a question neither she could answer. Where is Aemond at night? “You tell me,” she answered. The ratcatcher snarled, twisting his knife between his fingers. “You have no idea, don’t you?” Stepping closer towards them, Lady Tyrell stepped back still shielding Helaena who’s awfully terrified. 

“What do you want?!” She exclaimed. 

The ratcatcher scanned her from head to toe. 

“And I heard that the prince failed to give you a babe. You’re useless to us,”

Her eyes widened with terror. Following his gaze as the dreadful man spots Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. “No!” Lady Tyrell tried to scream but the ratcatcher shuts her up with his hand. “You see, we need a son. Do you have a son?” His question haunted her. She couldn’t answer for she knew that she does not have a son nor was she pregnant with one. But she could not let them touch the twins. No…not the twins…no. Her tears building up in her eyes for she knew what they wanted. 

A son for a son. 

“No son? Then you’re useless to us.”

With a swift motion, the ratcatcher smacked her head. 

Everything was black when she hit the ground. 

And you don't wanna know

How alone I've been

Let you come and go

Whatever state I'm in

Sitting in her childhood bedroom all alone was insufferable. She once yearned for her old bedroom where she thought that she could feel herself again, but to no avail she finds nothing but emptiness, for her childhood happiness was long gone. She left all of her love and duty in Kings Landing. In his hands. It angered her, at some point.

She was still angry at him.

For everything he had put her through. 

Hadn’t she loved him from the very beginning? She didn’t push, she didn’t whine, she didn’t complain. Yet he picked a whore to bed. Idiot. But what could she possibly have done? Yell at him? Scream at him? That’s a death sentence. She’s still a woman in court. Not a queen, she doesn’t even think he would even address her as a princess even if she is his wife. 

She looks down to her dressing table filled with her jewelries and small dragon sculptures that she failed to give to him for their wedding. It was a simple peace offering she wanted to give to him, Helaena, Aegon, and Daeron. To possibly remind them of their fondness as children. But she believed the gods had forbid her to do such thing and just let her…move on. They are not children anymore and things have changed. Growing up, duties, and the war. But what could possibly happen if she pushed harder to make him open the cold doors of his heart? Would things be the same or would things end up differently? Lady Tyrell could only stay silent as her handmaid prepares her to start the day. But what a cruel day it is for the only thing she could think of was Aemond.

Aemond Targaryen.

Stepping down the stairs from her room to the dining hall, she wonders what Aemond is doing by now. “Father, Mother,” she curtsied as she entered the dining hall. The table was served with delicious food she craved for many moons back in Kings Landing. Yet the presence of her brothers were nowhere to be found. She didn’t think much of it and sat on her usual chair. “Are you feeling better, dear?” Her mother asks. She could only nod, “Never better.“

Her father smiled, “It’s certainly better than Kings Landing. Blood is spilled everywhere in that place,” his tone slowly turning into disgust. “People hanged everywhere-,”

“—Lyonel,” her mother scolds, glancing down at the food.

 “Ah yes, my apologies. Let us feast!”

Her family was definitely far much warmer than Aemond’s. She wished to build a family like her own, yet with the war and Aemond’s….choices. It seemed her dreams would never come true. Her thoughts were quickly shooed away as she heard a loud and hurried knock from the door.

“My Lord,” a guard said. “My apologies for interrupting your feast, but there was a raven sent from Kings Landing. I believe it is urgent.” Handing the parchment to her father, Lady Tyrell curiously looked at the letter. Lord Tyrell scans through the letter, reading it briefly, making her and her mother wait on edge. 

“It seems that your husband requested your return.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Immediately.” 

Lady Tyrell snatched the letter away from her father, wanting to see if her father was playing tricks on her. But it seems that he has not. It was written with Aemond’s handwriting, and to summarize the letter itself, Aemond has concluded that he still wanted Lady Tyrell to be present at the court of Kings Landing for she at the end of the day was and will still be his wife. Aemond promised her father that she will be safe at all times. Aemond also requested- no, more like he commanded for her return immediately. It seemed he has sent a few of his men for extra caution for her long journey from Highgarden to Kings Landing. In the meantime, he is off to Rook’s Rest and if he does not find her present at the Red Keep when he is back, he shall burn Highgarden to the ground. 

Looking up with her shocked expression, Lord Lyonel Tyrell could only sigh. “It seems you must pack immediately, my dear.” Her mother nodded as she read the letter through again. “For the sake of Highgarden and yourself, my love.” Lady Tyrell could only stand there in silence. What does Aemond want from her? Does such threats shall be made to make her come back to him? After he betrayed her, she thought he wouldn’t mind her disappearing. Yet now…he commands her return immediately. 

“I..I do not understand,” Lady Tyrell muttered to her parents. 

“You are still his wife and it seems he still sees you as fit,” her mother answered. 

-

Made it all look painless

Man, am I the greatest

Her vision was blurry when she woke up, she could only hear a distorted conversation between the two invaders. Oh gods…she remembered. Intruders, Helaena, the twins…they wanted a son. Lady Tyrell forced herself to wake up and pushes her self from the ground with her elbow. She saw how the two intruders ran with a sack in their hands. Gods, where’s Helaena? The twins? She groaned in pain as her head was still spinning. She stood up with her legs wobbly, holding onto the cushion for support. 

What horror she saw that night. 

Blood splattered everywhere at one of the twin’s bed. 

She didn’t even dare to look what’s left. 

She hazily sprinted away, calling out for help. 

Gods where is Helaena? Where are the twins?!

Please…please…

She scurried down to the dark hallways with a sob calling out for anyone. 

And there she bumped into them.

Ser Criston and the dowager queen Alicent alongside with a few of the other fellow guards. “My dear!” Alicent shrieked, pulling her into her motherly arms. “I..Are you alright?” She could only shake her head, “Where is Helaena? Where are the twins?! I-I saw blood!” Alicent looks at her with a horrified expression. “Helaena is at my chambers, Jaehaera is with her- p-please accompany her.” Without no further explanation, she sprinted towards the dowager queen’s chambers, finding Helaena gently soothing her daughter at the corner. 

“Helaena!” She sobs out, running to them and hugging them tight. 

“T-the boy,” Helaena chokes on sobs. 

“J-Jae-Jaehaerys? Wh-where i-is h-he?”

“T-the boy is dead.”

Her heart sank. 

“W-what?”

“I don’t feel safe here…,” Helaena lets out a sob, craddling Jaehaera who knew nothing of the incident. Lady Tyrell nodded, wiping her tears away knowing that Helaena needed every support she could get. “O-okay..we shall stay in my chambers, alright?” Lady Tyrell says, helping Helaena up as she carried Jaehaera in her arms. 

The castle was filled with grief as Helaena sobbed with her in her chambers. She could only say nothing as she held her sweet sister in law in her arms. Gently reassuring her that everything will be alright. Even though they both knew that it wouldn’t. Then came her husband. Opening her chamber doors, his healthy eye spots them. Where was he? Wasn’t he in the castle? Why couldn’t they find him? Where was he when his nephew was murdered? But…if he were to catch him, she might’ve end up being a widow.

They wanted him. 

But where was he?

-

And you don't wanna know (know)

What I would've done (done), hm

Anything at all

Worse than anyone

The night was dark, the keep was cold and gloomy. She hates it here, but she finds herself following her husband’s orders to meet him in the throne room. He was pointed as prince regent, for King Aegon had almost perished at Rook’s Rest. Burnt by dragon fire. She thought that she would find Aemond grieving, yet she finds him standing in front of the iron throne with posture straight, filled with pride. His chin high up as he stares at the throne made of swords. He heard some of his men talking about the incident at Rook’s Rest for some saw Vhagar was the one who let out its fire towards the king and Sunfyre. Could Aemond’s ambition and anger towards Aegon blinded his morality? She knew how much he wanted to be king and she never completely believed that her husband would abandon all of his hopes and dreams as King. 

“Aemond,” she addressed him with no hint of affection yet. 

“Wife,” he answered, turning around to face her. “How was your journey from Highgarden?” He asked, approaching her and gently lifted and kissed the back of her hand. “It was a smooth journey, I must thank you for the men you’ve sent for my safety.” Keeping this polite and respectful. After knowing what had happened in the brothel, it was hard for her to trust Aemond or taking him literally. Whatever tricks he has on his sleeve, she must always be prepared. 

“Hm,” he hums, before taking her to step closer in front of the throne. 

“The Iron Throne,” he spoke as the thunder roared through the rain. As light shone upon the empty throne, how he longed to sit on that throne and have all the power his brother failed to hold. His slender hands traced over the edge of the throne as he hums in delight. “Balerion’s fire melted these swords. Twisted, beaten, and broken blades of the conqueror’s enemies.” Lady Tyrell has heard of the conqueror’s story hundreds of times and it’s mostly told by Aemond himself when they were children. “They knew what power meant and they’ve used it well…and I believe I’m destined for it.” 

“And Aegon?” She asked, with no hesitation. For she wanted to know what lies in Aemond’s mind about Aegon’s tragic demise. The king might not live, yet grief isn’t present in Aemond’s eye like when he heard of Jaehaerys’ death. His brother was burnt nearly to death, yet Aemond talks about power. “What about him?” Aemond asked back, stoically. She couldn’t read his face when he turned towards her. Nothing but a blank expression which sends shivers down her spine. “Is he worthy of the power you talk about?” When that question leaves her mouth, Aemond could scoff, “Him? Never.” Stepping down from the steps of the throne, he approaches her. “He couldn’t even have power over his own tongue,” Aemond said, cupping her cheek with one of his hands. 

“He is an idiot.” 

An idiot. 

And there she knew, he hated his brother. He hated the way his brother was given the throne with ease. How his brother ruined everything for him, and now Aemond’s petty enough to take everything from his brother as well. 

“What happened at Rook’s Rest?--”

“–I was never sorry. He was an idiot to challenge Meleys,” he said with a devious smile. 

Lady Tyrell could only gaze at his healthy eye, and the only thing she could read from her husband was that he was satisfied. Whatever satisfaction was filled, it was something that she herself would not want to question. “And everything falls into place. The throne will be mine.”

Taking her hands, he smiled. 

“And you’ll stand beside me.”

And everything falls into place, like what he said. Lady Tyrell realized how things could end up if Aemond were in power. She would be a fool to not satisfy him, but had she tried? She thought that everything was crumbling down, but here she is in the throne room with her husband who talks about power, almost burning the king alive, who wishes to possess the throne…with her. She doubted him for a second when she remembered his activities in the brothel, but then she thought again. It’s better to be in power and to be queen even if your husband commits infidelity. 

But would he? He said that he wants HER to stand beside him. If she stays loyal and never question him, his love would grow for her. 

Everyone in the small council has never satisfied him, no one has. 

Even claiming Vhagar wasn’t enough for him. Nothing is. But she could satisfy him. She could gain his loyalty and trust. Not only that, even as prince regent Aemond could give so much more for her house if she asks carefully. All of her thoughts of being a young girl refusing to be involved in such politics simply vanished when she looked over the iron throne. It’s pulling her in, to leave her childish dreams. To instead devote herself for her husband’s victory. 

If his plan works, he’ll stay. 

With her. 

When he realizes that she’s the only one who’ll devote her life for him, 

He’ll love her. 

He will have power, and she and her house will.

Both of them gets what they want. 

"You are a Tyrell. A rose with thorns. Don’t let anything, even a dragon snap your thorns away from you."

She glanced back to her husband who seemed to figure her out. 

A silent agreement has been made between them. 

“Then we must pray to the Gods to keep your brother to recover soon,” she said. Aemond smirks, understanding her words. “We shall,” he grins. Lady Tyrell curtsied before her husband, “I must return to my chambers now, dear Husband.” Aemond nodded, a sign of respect from him. “Sleep well, dear Wife.” 

Lady Tyrell nodded and turned to exit the throne room as her thoughts swirled around her head. Now as the wife of the prince regent, she could only support her husband on whatever step he would take. Aemond is not stupid, more like one of the most intelligent men in Westeros. Brash yet clever. SHe must know how to help him if she wants to help herself. As Lady Tyrell stepped through the gloomy halls of the keep, she found Helaena walking towards the opposite direction. “Your grace,” Lady Tyrell greeted her, curtsying before the current queen. Helaena usually greets her with a smile, yet she could only see uncertainty from the queen’s eyes. 

“Mending bonds does not have to be done with pride,” the queen said hauntingly

“Pardon?”

“Then did he tell you if it was worth it?”

Worth it?

Aegon’s demise?

Lady Tyrell could only say nothing and stare at Helaena. 

“Worth…what?”

Helaena could only pursue her lips and walk away towards the throne room, leaving Lady Tyrell alone in the cold dark hallways of the red keep. 

 -

It was quite surprising to her when Aemond pointed her to be a cupbearer for the small council for the next few following days. She remembers the faces of his council when she steps into the room, she could even feel the dowager queen’s eyes on her as she curtsied. 

“He dares to summon me?!--” Crumpling up the letter with a roar, Aemond stomps into the small council table. “--with haste!” Throwing the piece of parchment onto the table like it was nothing. Lady Tyrell could only observe, keeping her eyes on everyone’s reaction on Aemond’s outburst. “Are the Lannisters so diminished that they cannot march from the Tooth to Harrenhal without an escort?” His question sent everyone into their own silence as none dared to meet his eye.

Her husband has so much power over everyone. 

She smirks to herself.  

“There is a large dragon in the Riverlands, Your Grace. My brother’s army is strong, but it does seem-”

“–I am the prince regent,” Aemond sternly exclaims. “Not a dog to be called to heel. Tell your brother that if he does not deliver his host to Harrenhal ‘with haste’, Daemon’s dragon will become the least of his worries.”

“Your irritations are justified, Aemond but it does seem-”

“–I have a task for you as well, Ser Tyland.” 

Ignoring his mother’s opinion. 

Even his own mother has no power over him. 

Aemond circled over the table, meeting her gaze before resting her arms onto Tyland Lannister’s chair. “We will make an alliance with the Triarchy. I’ve had enough of this cursed blockade,” Aemond suggests. “My prince, you cannot mean to treat with the Free Cities. The captains of their ships are dangerous mercenaries…little more than pirates–”

“–They are a stone’s throw away across the narrow sea. Lannister, Hightower, even Tyrell ships will take months to arrive. It took my wife weeks to arrive at Kings Landing. The Triarchy will delight in the chance to terrorize the Sea Snake again. Let them weaken his blockade while our true allies make their long journey east.”

“The Triarchy may play at accepting terms but they are not to be trusted, your father knew this.”

Aemond could only roll his eye and meet her eyes once again. Lady Tyrell could only give him a nod, asking him to calm down as he walked back to his seat. Even as dowager queen, Alicent was just a pawn to the council, Lady Tyrell thought to herself. May the gods forbid her to be widowed and be sat around this council. Aemond circles the table once again as Ser Criston speaks. Aemond kept his eyes on her as he spoke, “It’s time you set out for Harrenhal, I think.” Lady Tyrell kept her eyes on her husband trying to figure out what he meant by sending Criston Cole away to war once more. “Your Grace, if Daemon prevails in the Riverlands, I no longer have the numbers to challenge him. We lost much at Rook’s Rest as you well know.”

Sitting on the table next to Criston, Aemond speaks as he pleases, “The longer we wait, the more chance he will prevail. Lannister will march from the west, and Tyrell shall follow along. Take what strength we have and force Daemon and his Riverlords to fight on two or three fronts.”

“His Grace speaks wisely.” 

Bootlicker. 

Lady Tyrell catches Aemond’s eye and gave him a look. 

Do not feed off Lord Larys’ praises. 

She kept her eyes stern at him as he pays no attention to Criston’s words

“There is no time. It’s a fortnight’s march to Harrenhal. We must strike before his army is raised.”

“And you yourself?”

“I will fly out to meet you when the time is ripe. My uncle is a challenge I welcome, if he dares face me.”

No one spoke to disagree with him. His ambition and plans weren’t to be questioned. It’s no use to question Aemond afterall. “I see we’re all agreed,” Aemond says with satisfaction standing back into his place, a signal to dismiss from today’s council meeting. Criston Cole was the first to stand, “Your Grace.” While Lady Tyrell saw how his mother’s eyes stared into Aemond’s figure. As everyone started to leave, Lady Tyrell how the dowager queen approached Ser Criston. Odd, but…not odd enough for anyone who was not paying attention. 

“Mother,” Aemond called. “A word.”

It was her cue to leave. 

Lady Tyrell placed the jug down gently before curtsying before her husband.

She sighs as she walks away from the corridor. She needed some fresh air. Walking towards the balcony near her apartment, she has a full view of Kings Landing. Surely it wasn’t as beautiful as Highgarden, but it was still a city filled with living people. 

She looked down, seeing a commotion. How some shoved each other, trying to get their hands on food…almost as if they were going to start a riot. There she knew that no one had paid the slightest attention to the people. The people who reside and makes a kingdom, a kingdom. Lady Tyrell took note how the gold cloaks stopped the people from making any further damage. Some use violence as their answer. 

Sure there was a war between kin, yet a war within the kingdom is happening as we speak. 

Bad omen. 

I shouldn't have to say it

You could've been the greatest

Another day, another small council meeting. 

Lady Tyrell walks into the small council room with Aemond as the table was almost empty. Only Lord Larys and Lord Jasper Wylde present. “The smallfolk have become restless,” Lady Tyrell blurts out as she pours wine into his cup. She could see Aemond fiddling his stone ball in his hand. “So?” He asked, still gazing at the stone. Before she could speak, Lord Larys interjects her, “There is not food enough in this city.” Lady Tyrell tilted her head as she sharply looked at Lord Larys. “Those with means have bought more than their share,” Lord Larys continued. “All the more reason Ser Tyland must break the blockade,” Aemond said. “In the meantime, the people are hungry, and their anger is rising,” Lady Tyrell points out, trying to make Aemond listen. “War with swords are evident, but a war within is also just as important,” Lady Tyrell tries to remind him. 

“Why is this anger directed at us?” He asks, curiously. “It is Rhaenyra the Pretender who ordered the Gullet closed and left them all to starve.” Of course he is not listening, why would she even think it will be different from her? Even his mother could not make him listen. “Yet we are the ones who are present at Kings Landing. They hope for us to nurture and to prevent them from starving,” Lady Tyrell points out once again. 

“That is the burden of authority. But you should not go it alone.” 

Aemond stopped fiddling with his stone ball and shifted his gaze towards Lord Larys. 

“It does occur to me that Your Grace has yet to name a Hand.”

Pathetic. 

Lady Tyrell could only roll her eyes and move to fill Lord Wylde’s cup. She saw how Larys had Aemond’s full attention after his brave suggestion. “Ser Criston of course, served your brother but you need one who may advance your cause, with shrewdness and subtlety.”

Even Lord Wylde was in disbelief. 

“Do you take me for a fool?” 

Lady Tyrell smirks to herself as her husband puts Lord Larys into place. Yet Lord Larys did not want to stand down and shook his head, “On the contrary, my prince–,” 

“I’ve little patience for the self-important, Lord Larys-,”

Lady Tyrell and Lord Wylde smiled and turned their heads in unison to Lord Larys’ direction. 

“-and even less for flatterers and lickspittles. But you are, as it happens, correct. Every king needs a hand.”

Lady Tyrell’s brows furrowed, hoping and praying for Aemond not to make a foolish decision to make Lord Larys as hand. She wishes that he could point her as hand but it is impossible. For she is a woman and she has no power over any man. She has to atleast think of a choice who’s worthy and trusted as Hand. Who’s not stupid enough or greedy enough to bring the realm down. 

“Wife,” Aemond called, interrupting her train of thought. “Who do you think is suited to be hand?” Aemond asked, although she knew he was not genuinely asking. It’s more like him trying to test her, like he always does as children. Some things never change. She looked at him trying to put a neutral expression. “I believe the realm was good and stable when your dear grandsire, Ser Otto was hand. He served well when your father was king and his loyalty was undoubted.”

Aemond looked at her as if he’s trying to make her dig more out of her opinion, but she stood by her words and smiled at him. “Hm,” Aemond hummed in agreement. But it was subtle, undetected to some. He looked back to Lord Larys, “I’ll make it your responsibility.” 

Lord Larys took a deep breath, a satisfied demeanour as he brushed his clothes. 

“My prince, it is an honor for myself–”

“–No, not to serve as Hand, you toad. To fetch him.”

It took all of her power to hold back her laugh. Even so, she couldn’t hold her smile. She looked down and saw Lord Wylde smiling with satisfaction as well. “Send word to Otto Hightower. My grandsire may be overcautious but his devotion to his family has never been in doubt. You will see it done.” 

“Your Grace,” Lord Larys said in defeat.

The grand maester then suddenly enters the room, late. 

“You’re late,” Aemond says. 

“I am happy to report that His Grace, the King has regained consciousness this morning.”

This news made her eyes wide, quickly drifting her eyes towards Aemond. 

He will not like this news. 

And he doesn’t. Not even the slightest. 

He looked back at her as he realized that his plan isn’t going as well as they thought it would be. Aemond stared at her as he tried to think, his mind racing with every single possibility. A silent conversation was exchanged between them through their eyes. Lady Tyrell blinks, knowing that there will be some difficulties for his plans, yet she shifts her gaze towards the grand maester as he speaks about Aegon’s strength, thanking the gods. For she knew Aemond wasn’t thanking the gods. He was cursing them in his mind.

“What happy news,” Aemond said with his little smile. 

What dreadful news. 

Once council meeting was over Lady Tyrell walked side by side with Aemond. She thought he was going to walk back to his chambers yet he took another turn, down towards Aegon’s chambers. 

“‘He is stronger than we thought.’ ‘He may have lived, thank the gods’,” Aemond mutters to himself. “Yet he is in pain, Aemond. Aegon is still laying in his bed as we speak, unable to move, eve unable to talk–,”

“–Yet Alive. Not Dying,” Aemond said to her as he walked in haste. 

“And what are to do in Aegon’s chambers?” She asked, stopping in front of Aegon’s apartment door. “Just paying him a visit. Let’s see how strong he really is.” Pushing the doors open, it was the first time Lady Tyrell had seen Aegon after Rook’s rest. He was…burnt. No mortal man would survive such a thing yet there he is. Moaning in pain. Alive and breathing. “I’ll see my brother. Alone,” Aemond orderdered. She stood by the doorway, hesitant to step inside as she saw the guards and maesters stepping out of the room. Maybe she wasn’t wanted to be in the room aswe-.

 “Come, don’t be shy. We must greet our king, shouldn’t we?” Aemond sarcastically said to her, reaching his hand out for her. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she hesitantly took his hand even if she was too shocked and too terrified to even speak. “Do not be afraid, it is just the king,” Aemond sarcastically reassures her as he pulls her closer beside Aegon’s bed.

When she saw Aegon opening his eyes, she could see confusion in his eyes when he spots her. But when his eyes drifted up, seeing her husband towering over him, to her surprise…Aegon tried to speak, yet to no avail he could only groan out of pain through his vocal chords and Aegon tried to move away from his brother. He was scared of Aemond. Gods, Aemond did tried to burn him. That fact sent shivers down her spine. Knowing how far her husband would go for his ambitions. Even his brother barely survived. 

“What do you remember?”

“N-nothing.”

Aemond coldly stared down at his brother before purposely leaning down, holding his brother’s hand practically squishing down onto his brother’s wounds. Hurting him. Aegon moaned and cried in pain, for Aemond is purposely hurting him. Lady Tyrell let out a shaky breath, “Ae-aemond–.”

“You challenged Meleys. It was foolish.”

“I remember nothing.”

Aegon could barely speak a whole sentence. 

She saw how Aemond leaned lower and kissed Aegon’s head, handing him a stone ball from the council. A sign from Aemond of somehow, Aegon is still alive. Meaning that he is still present at court. Aegon is still king, for now. 

“My Prince? My Lady?”

The grand maester suddenly enters the room once more. 

“You’re in the most capable hands, Your Grace,” Aemond bluntly said, covering his tracks. Lady Tyrell follows him as he starts to walk out of Aegon’s chambers. “It seems my brother has a long recovery ahead of him, grand maester. See that he is made to rest comfortably.” 

-

And man, am I the greatest 

My congratulations 

All my love and patience

All my admiration

All the times I've waited 

For you to want me naked 

I made it all look painless

Man, am I the greatest

God, I hate it

All my love and patience

Unappreciated

You said your heart was jaded

You couldn't even break it

I shouldn't have to say it

You could've been the greatest

Walking in haste towards her husband’s chambers, Lady Tyrell could only think of how foolish HE was for not listening to her regarding the smallfolk situation. Now his mother and sister were almost murdered by angry mobs yet he says nothing of it?! When she saw Helaena rushing back to the castle, her hair out of place and panting as if she were just running, she could sense that something went very wrong. 

“Helaena- Your Grace, What happened?” Lady Tyrell asked in panic, embracing her childhood friend and her queen in which Helaena does not reject. “T-they were angry,” Helaena said, out of breath.

“Who?”

“Everyone.”

The dowager queen Alicent walks not far behind. Her face smeared with the grease and stink of raw fish, and her arm. Smeared with blood. “My Queen, what has happened?” Lady Tyrell asked once again. “Angry mob. It seemed their issues with their food were unfinished and Rhaenyra’s banners were held up high, they’ve manipulated the people and…” A pregnant pause, the dowager queen looked down at her arm once again. Lady Tyrell looked down as well. She wondered if there was a significant incident for the dowager queen. Has the mob scarred her that much? “Where is Aemond?” Alicent asked. “In his chambers, my Queen.” Alicent nodded and lifted her skirt to walk. “He needs to know what has happened. And my dear, I believe his mind is clouded with his own ambition. Make him listen, for it is only you that he could trust.”

The dowager queen’s words made her end up where she is now. Knocking on her husband’s chamber doors. “Enter,” she heard him say from inside. She pushed the heavy doors, “The smallfolk are turning against us.” Aemond was sitting in front of the fireplace, reading his book in peace. “Your mother and sister were almost killed by angry mobs, Aemond,” Lady Tyrell reminded him, standing beside where he sat. “And so I’ve heard.”

“How are you this calm, Aemond? Further destruction can be made if we do not solve this matter!”

“Mind your tone, wife,” he stoically warned, closing his book.

“My tone? I told you of this matter yet you dismissed me.”

Aemond stood up and put his book back onto his shelf.

“Aemond, are you listening to me?”

“Shall I remind you of your position, wife?” 

Now he’s threatening her. Ofcourse, she’s nothing but a lady in court. Not a man in power. 

“I am a grown woman, not a child, Aemond. I know of my position. But it does not mean I am an idiot,” she reminded him back. Aemond stares at her coldly. “What? You want to hang me now? You can hang me as you like, but I know that you are aware that I’m right.” 

“You have always been a stubborn little thing aren’t you?”

“That adds to my charm. Aemond, you need the people as much as you dragons to win this war. A kingdom is not a kingdom without it’s people. You said that it was Rhaenyra who ordered the Gullet closed and left the people to starve- yet who are they chanting for when a handful of food was given to them for free?”

Feeling his judgement falling upon her, Lady Tyrell does not hesitate to continue, “The people do not care who was the one that started the hunger. Yet they will remember who were the ones who could save them from their misery. If Rhaenyra was the one who left them to starve, then be their saviour! Not turning your back against them. What is to be king if the people doesn’t acknowledge you as one? Then you’re simply…a fraud.”

Aemond’s eyes turned cold and shoved her down to the bed. “You think you’re better than me, Tyrell? Just because I summoned you back here does not mean you can do as you please,” he hissed. If she were in this position as the old version of herself, she would cower in fear. But she knows how he is. His temper, she will let it all happen. To her, now it’s just a lover’s quarrel. “Aye? Then what would you do? Kill me? Destroying one of your greatest assets for the war? What would they say? You fucked a whore and killed your own wife.” Aemond presses her down deeper to the mattress. 

“Watch your tongue.”

“Did she satisfy you?” Lady Tyrell asked. 

She needed to know. 

“Was that the reason why you refused to bed me all these months?” 

Aemond grunts again, but his body refuses to push her any further. Refusing to hurt her. For he has hurt her enough. “Do not assume such things,” Aemond said, his voice slightly cracking. “How can I not?” She said back, her voice not faltering. “Am I that undesirable?—“

“—No—,”

“—Have you doubted my loyalty?—“

“—No!—“

“—Then what am I to you, Aemond?”

“You are my wife.”

His healthy eye staring right into her soul.

“I do not wish to bed you like how I bed that whore.” His fingers grazed over her arm. “Undesirable? I’ve desired you more than anything. When you stepped out of your carriage stepping foot in Kings Landing for the very first time, I never wanted anyone more than anything. I desired you when I saw you in the sept at our union, and when I refused the bedding ceremony that night I didn’t want anyone to see your body. It should only be touched and seen by me. Only me.” 

Her gaze softened hearing those words coming out from his mouth. Her mind tried to tell her that it was a trick, but oh she could only melt in his arms. Finding his pupil dilating, she saw how he only has genuine affection towards her and a sense of guilt that he wishes to take away from her. He needed her as much as she needed him. It took her long enough to do it, but she knew it had to be done. She pulls him closer and lets her lips gently meet his. It took Aemond with surprise so she let it stay still, waiting for him to take the lead. 

She felt his lips move, slowly accepting her mouth on his. Their lips meet with a delicate urgency, brushing softly at first, testing the waters of desire. As intensity builds, kisses deepen, becoming more fervent, tongues intertwining in a dance of exploration and connection.

Hands explore with a gentle insistence, fingers threading through hair, tracing the line of jaw, and caressing the curve of back and neck. The warmth of skin against skin sends shivers of pleasure through their bodies, heightening every sensation.

Breaths mingle in a rhythm that mirrors their entwined hearts, each inhale drawing them closer, each exhale a whispered affirmation of mutual longing. Time seems to slow, the outside world fading away as they become lost in the intoxicating blend of touch, taste, and scent. He pulls away, “I imagined them as you. It does not justify my infidelity but I could not stop myself. I wished to perform such act with you but for the gods sake…I could not bare to hurt you.” Desperately nuzzling his nose to his cheek as her arms link around his neck. 

“You would not hurt me,” his wife gently whispers. 

She gently held him and flipped him over. 

“But I have..thousands of times,” he mutters while his calloused hands traced over her waist down to her hips. Lady Tyrell looked down to him as his eye was filled with lust and desire. Untangling her dress, she eventually lets it drop down to her waist, unveiling herself to him. “Gevie,” Aemond mutters, kneading her breast feeling how his hand perfectly cups hers. She was just beautiful as he imagined her to be. 

“And here I thought you had abandoned me.” Her hands trailed over his breeches, finding access to his sex. Aemond gasped, feeling her gentle smooth hands wrapping around his cock. It felt better than any touch of those whores. None have hands as smooth and gentle as hers. “I would never,” he grunted desperately for her touch. Lady Tyrell looked down, removing her undergarments briefly, lining her sex to his. 

“My King,” she sighs in pleasure sinking into his cock. 

She made Aemond’s healthy eye roll back feeling her squeezing him like hell. “Gods you’re tight,” he grunted once more, thrusting up needing friction. She gasped, taking all of him. “Say it again,” he ordered, letting her adjust to him. “M-my King.” Her delicate hands resting on his clothed chest, she steadied herself as she grinds on him. The smell of sex was evident in the room. Aemond looked up seeing his then-innocent wife riding him like a dragon he is. Moaning, panting, praising him. 

“A dragon..is useless without its rider,” she pants. Aemond gripped her hips as he helped her to reach their pleasures. “Then ride me, ābrazȳrys. Ride your dragon king.” And she obeyed, riding him as tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks. “Ae-aemond- fuck.” The prince smirked hearing his wife curse, “My wife talks like a pirate now,” he teased, taking her hand into his lips, kissing it gently. 

“I-I..I..I’m close.”

Urgently thrusting up into her, Aemond helps her chase her pleasure. Hearing her sweet sounds make him find his own pleasure as well. The only woman who could make him come this fast. His blurry vision saw how her body was full of sweat and how the dim light of the fireplace enhanced her features. “Gevie,” he repeated. Exhausted, she slowly dropped her body to him. Letting his arms wrapped around her smaller body. Her husband inhaled her scent as he buries his face deep into her hair. 

“Aemond?” She called out. 

“Hm?”

Slowly pulling away, she looked into his healthy eye before she stared at his eyepatch. 

“May I?” Asking for permission. 

She thought that he might refuse, yet he was the one who unveils himself to her.

He took off his eyepatch before her. 

Letting her see his scar. 

A thick tension filled the air as Aemond was starting to regret this decision of showing his wife his vulnerability. Lady Tyrell quickly spots his insecurity and wants nothing but him to open up to her. So she kissed his scar, just beneath his sapphire eye. Nuzzling her nose to his cheek, she whispered, “Gevie.” She could hear a quiet sigh coming out from her husband and how his arms wrapped around her just a tad tighter than before. Aemond needed her more than ever, and Alicent was right. She was the only one he could trust. 

“The smallfolk, Aemond.”

“What about them?”

“It is difficult to change their mind for now,” she said as she slightly pulls back, looking into his gaze, “But we can always make a change by their ways.” 

Aemond raised his eyebrow curiously, “What ways?”

“Rumours. Gossip,” she said.

At first he was not convinced.

“I am a lady at court, I know how rumours work. They are not a line that you can easily break. Rumours spiral and it shall grow bigger and bigger. Unless someone stops them with another,” she told him carefully. “Rhaenyra might have won this chapter, but we are the ones closest to the people. We must turn the rumours back around.” Aemond lets out a hum in agreement. “It seems I do need you. For I am a dragon and I fly and burn everything to the ground at battlegrounds. Yet you are a rose. Beautiful and charming, drawing people to your attention while your thorns sharp and ready to fight the war with your ways,” he praised her, caressing her hair. 

“We can still win the hearts of the people. If we do this right,” she said.

“What of rumours about me? About me not planting a seed on your womb?” Aemond asked, changing the subject as he placed his other hand to her stomach. “I regret for not putting a babe in you sooner. Maybe our act was enough to let my seed grow in you, wife.” 

Lady Tyrell chuckled at his words. Although she is quite excited to have a babe with him. Aemond Targaryen’s heir. She dressed up as Aemond pulled his breeches back up as well. “But I am aware that this was planned by the gods. If I did put a babe in you earlier, maybe the realm would be mourning for you. Not for Jaehaerys,” she heard him say as he sat up. “I am an honest man, my dear. And I am honest of how I could not live without you breathing in the same air as me.” His arms sneaked around her waist, pressing his chest onto her back. 

“My rose, my wife.”

He placed a gentle kiss on her neck. 

Before letting go, putting his eyepatch and lighting a candle. 

“Aemond, what are you doing?” She asked curiously as her fingers still grazed upon the spot where he kissed her. “The smallfolk won’t side with us overnight. We have to act early, don’t we?” He said with a devilish smile, opening his chamber doors revealing the dark empty hallway of the keep. She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “Aemond, the moon is high.” Aemond nodded, “Which means it’s the best time to act.”

Aemond grabbed his cloak and walked out from the room.

“Come along now, wife.”

Oh, Aemond.

Lady Tyrell lifted her skirt and catches onto her husband. 

“Aemond, wait!”

Even as adults, Aemond couldn’t hold his smile whenever his wife caught up onto him. 

Walking in haste, side by side. Like how it has always been, and forever. 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! So sorry for the delay, cuz I was sick and I saw episode 6 and I HAD to include those scenes to make this fic work. Honestly, I didn’t think that I would make Lady Tyrell have this character development but with the current situation of hotd, I just wanted an ambitious Tyrell lady in the story so I just had to🧸. Plus I got carried away writing this fic but I had so much fun! >,< I’m actually quite interested to make headcannons between Aemond and Lady Tyrell so if you guys are curious about their story do not hesitate to ask or like hmu abt it in my inbox (it’s open!). But anyways, I hope you enjoyed this (long) sequel and I am excited to write more in the future! I am open to requests and even prompts!𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

Love, Aliceִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

P.S, Likes, reblogs, and comments are kindly appreciatedᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—Taglist: @uhnanix @starwarsdinosaur @ccallistata @cloudroomblog @callsigncrushx @immyowndefender @barnes70stark @mikey1310 @llynx7 @ladytargg @anukulee (lmk if you wanna be in my taglist for future stuffs<3). 

I was all over her.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female! reader

warnings: angst, sad Aemond, minor spoilers from hotd s2 ep 2, 3, and 4, not much smut but MDNI!!

WC: 4517

summary: when the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

Don't know what I wanted, I have a memory

Throughout Aemond’s life, he remembers how much he wanted to be seen. 

By his father,

by his mother,

by his brother,

by the whole world.

He wasn’t the heir to the throne, he didn’t have a dragon like his brothers or sister. He was weak and nothing. He spend his days being teased and bullied relentlessly by his brother and nephews. They had venomous tongues and big sharp teeth. He hated the way he is.

But when the world turned their back on him, one person remained. 

She was a Tyrell, born not long after his mother gave birth to his youngest brother Daeron. His grandsire and mother are close to her parents since the Tyrells and Hightowers are two houses that are closely related. 

When he first met her back in oldtown, he saw her as a meek and shy young girl. He hated it. Because it reminded him of himself. But his hatred grew when he saw how well she gets along with Aegon, Daeron, even Helaena. Maybe he doesn’t hate her, maybe he just hates how he’s nothing like her. 

Likeable. 

Then it all changed in one summer evening. 

He was reading at the great library of oldtown, away from the world as he read about his great ancestors of old valyria and dragons. Dragons he longed to have. Like Aegon with sunfyre, Helaena with Dreamfyre, even Daeron with Tessarion. Then he heard a thud. 

Looking back from his seat, he saw no one was in the empty library but him. 

When he returned to his book, he heard another thud. 

Shutting the book with frustration, he began to look for the source of the sound that disturbed his peace. Walking deeper between old tall shelves, he took a turn to the left and saw…her.

Younger and smaller than him, but the Tyrell girl grunts as she climbs the bookshelf. Strong but mighty. The way her silly tongue sticks out as she’s so persistent to reach a book at the tallest shelf. He cleared his throat as he looked down, noticing many books had been scattered around the floor for her to climb.

She turned to him with a surprise stare.

“Prince Aemond!” 

As a child, she squeaks like a squirrel

Aemond thought to himself.

“What are you doing up there?” Aemond asks curiously. “I..I’ve been trying to reach that book!” She says as she still tries to reach the book at the highest shelf. 

“You will hurt yourself,” Young Aemond sighs. 

“Can you help me, my prince?” she asks as she jumps down from the shelf. 

“No-“

“Please!”

“Absolutely not-“

“You’re far much taller than me!” She says pointing at his height. 

Even as children, he has always been taller than her. 

Aemond sighs, knowing what he’s about to do. 

And he did it. 

Not for his own pride, but for her.

“Oh thank you!” She thanked him with a smile when he easily reached and took the book she’s looking for. The girl hugged the huge book in her arms. “It wasn’t a big deal, whatever,” Aemond says, acting nonchalant while he dusts off his clothes. “It is though, I wouldn’t have been able to reach that book if you weren’t here!” She says with a bright smile.

Heat rose up to his cheeks. No one ever ‘relied’ on him before. 

“Biarvose,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting her to know. But she heard him and tilted her head with curiosity. “Are you speaking high valyrian? It sounds lovely! Can you teach me?!” She asks cheerfully.

“What, no I’m not-“

“Please! I want to at least learn something new!” The girl says excitedly. Before he could answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to their seats in front of the fireplace. “I’m a fast learner, I promise!” She says as she sits down beside him with a smile.

Can’t believe he’s doing this.

But…it felt nice. The way she wanted him to teach her. She could’ve asked Aegon or Daeron…yet she chose him. 

“It’s…”

He mentioned her name. He liked how her name rolled off his tongue.

“…Tyrell, right?”

She nods. 

And since that day, and for the whole summer he taught her high valyrian in the library. Word by word, he was patient to teach her. He hates to admit it but she actually was a fast learner. 

She was his first true friend.

She was the first person who makes him feel like he has a purpose in life. 

Until they took his eye.

Just a year after he knew her, by the time he turned 10 he had claimed Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in Westeros. But for a price, which was his eye.

He became the same boy who hated the world. 

Never came back to oldtown or any places except the red keep. Afraid what the world might say about him. How ugly he looked with his scar, one of his eye missing, but most of all he was afraid of what SHE might say about him. Afraid of rejection, how she’ll stop spending time with him.

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother came inside his chambers. Bringing in the young Tyrell. 

“Aemond, she’s here to see you,” Alicent says, in a slight pleading tone. For he has shut himself out from the world when the maester stitched him. It hurts and it will hurt even more if he knew that all that people will see in him was a monster. 

“Go away,” he says coldly, his chair facing away from the door.

“Are you feeling any better?” Her sweet gentle voice asks as Alicent has her arm around the little girl.

Sometimes he just wants to run and hug her for comfort. For she was his escape from this cruel world. Her optimism makes him alive. He didn’t want to lose that.

“I said go away,” his hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“I brought you-,”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” He shrieks, stepping down from his chair and throwing his cup at her direction as he turns around, accidentally showing her his scar. His true self.

Alicent quickly tried to shield the young girl as she screamed. Shielding her from him.

From him.

“Aemond!” Alicent scolded her son. 

Yet his mother’s scolding didn’t matter to him. He saw his friend’s…his only friend terrified expression. He scared her. He hurt her. Just like how the world hurt him.

He took a step back. 

“I…I’m sorry,” he says lowly before returning to his chair.

He wanted to cry. But it hurts if he does.

Then he heard slow and tiny footsteps.

And she…she placed a toy dragon at the table. As her hands tremble. 

“I carved Vhagar for you…father taught me how to carve.”

The young girl says bravely. Yet Aemond wasn’t brave enough to meet her eyes. Not after he hurt her. So he says nothing. 

“Get well soon, my prince,” she curtsied and hurriedly returned to the Queen. Leaving him alone in his cold and empty room. Only the sound of crackling fire filled the room. Aemond loved silence but this time…he hated it. 

So he reached out, taking the wooden figure of his dragon into his hands. And by the time Queen Alicent returned to his chambers, she found her son asleep in his chair.

Holding the little dragon in his hands, close to his chest.

-

Back at that party, I was all over her

The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was at his fault and he couldn’t deny it any more. 

Kinslayer. Thats what they call him now.

His betrothal to one of Borris Baratheon’s daughter came to an end once Vhagar snapped her sharp teeth onto Vermax’s body. No one wanted to marry a Kinslayer.

A crippled and a kinslayer. 

What a fucking combo. 

But he firmly believed that everything that has happened to him was meant to be. Because if it weren’t for it, he wouldn’t be shaped as he is now. And he has to be better. Every sword training, every lessons, and at every war..he must be the best.

But that little boy inside of him still clings onto him till this very day.

Especially when his mother mentioned her name.

For he shall now marry her to strengthen the allieagance between their house and the Tyrells. They needed this. And he shall do it for them. 

He convinced himself it wasn’t personal and he doesn’t wish to meet her and just arrange the marriage ceremony. Secretly afraid for what she’ll think of him now.

A kinslayer, a cripple…a monster.

For they have not met again since that very night in his chambers. 

And when he saw her gain at the grand sept for their wedding, may the gods help him. 

She has grown into a woman. Not a young child anymore. 

She smiled to her family, giving them a nervous thin smile. 

Does he makes her nervous?

Does he scare her?

The ceremony was done in the sept. Not a grand wedding like any royal ceremony would be for they are at war and it’s ignorant if they host a grand wedding in the midst at war.

He couldn’t help but to stare how different she is now. How reserved and mature her body language is as she gracefully walks around with her long dress dragging through the cold stones of the sept. She was…beautiful.

“My prince,” she says as she curtsied. Even her voice has changed. Now it felt as if honey were dripping down her tongue.

“My Lady,” he greets back stoically. Not wanting her or anyone to read his mind. 

“How are you, my prince?” she whispers as the ceremony begins. Still making small talk as always, yet he yearns for it. He’s deeply grateful that she still wants to talk to him. Yet it has been awhile since he properly talked to her, it made him nervous. “I am well,” he whispers back. His healthy eye looked into hers as they were pronounced husband and wife. He finds nothing but nostalgia in her eyes. She is just how he remembered her.

-

We didn't make out or do anything

I just remember I was lonely

He didn’t like the idea of a bedding ceremony.

Where people would see him…and her.

It’s unnatural…and unfitting. 

So he ordered for the bedding ceremony not to be done. But he promised that he shall take her that night and they can inspect the bedsheets in the morning.

When he stepped into her chambers, he found her anxiously standing beside the bed. A weird tense atmosphere swept the room. 

“I..,” she wants to speak.

“I would like to say thank you for…not letting the bedding ceremony to happen-“

What is this? Does she not want everyone to see us together?

His anxious mind and overthinking took power over him.

“Who said it was done for you?” He snapped at her as he closed the door. 

Shit. He did it again.

And she was quiet once more.

I scared her again.

“But…still…I still want to thank you…my pr-“

“Husband,” he sternly says walking past her.

“Pardon?” 

He took a jug filled with wine and poured it onto his empty cup. He at least needed a cup of wine if he wanted to bed her right.

“I am your husband now, am I not?” He asks, not looking at her. 

“Oh yes…husband,” she says with a nod, fiddling her skirt.

Aemond turned around and took off his attire and was left with his tunic, yet she just stood there beside the bed, not being able to move. 

She was nervous.

He looked at her, unsure what he should do. Should he comfort her? Should he take her quickly so they didn’t have to endure this pain together? No- no no no he didn’t want to hurt her.

Then he saw her slowly opening her nightgown. Her hands trembling like when he hurt her as a child. She slips her nightgown over his chest-.

It’s been awhile since he saw a woman’s body.

The last time was…..was…

“Stop.”

She curiously looked up to him, only halfway through from being naked. “I-is there something wrong?-.”

“No,” he quickly answered, looking down with shame.

Yes. There is something wrong.

When Aegon took him to that brothel…at the age of 13..he…he couldn’t- it scarred him. 

She’s not like them. She’s not like that whore.

It’s only her, it’s just her!

His mind battling inside his head as he stood at the other side of the bed. He blamed Aegon for ruining something that should be meaningful for a man and woman. Ruining something that should’ve been meaningful for him and her. He blamed the brothel, he blamed his brother, and foremost he blamed himself. 

He can’t bed her.

Not like this.

“We must…do our duty,” he says, trying to mask his insecurity and vulnerability in front of her. Trying to mask the same 13 year old boy who was terrified when he stepped into the brothel for the first time. 

He didn’t dare to look up. He didn’t want to see her being disgusted by hi-

“Yet you don’t want to,” her voice was gentle and kind. Not a hint of mockery at sight. 

“I-“

“I don’t want to do this either.”

He looks up, finding her shielding her chest with her nightgown. That sight aroused him terribly. He wanted to touch her, wanted to make her happy and satisfied. He wanted to make her smile. Yet he saw the same little girl that admired him as a child. He didn’t want to fuck her, he wanted to make love with her. 

But he didn’t know how to.

So he just…stood there. The two of them stood there and said nothing. 

Just as he thought all hope was lost, she puts on her nightgown and stepped away from the bed. 

She’s leaving.

She’s disgusted by me.

“What are you-.”

She took a butter knife and roughly slits her palm, letting blood drip to the bed. 

He stared at her.

“There. They’ll think I lost my maidenhead,” she says with a little smile plastered on her face. “No one will know.”

His eye drifts into her still bleeding palm. He groaned walking towards her, ripping a cloth and wrapped her bleeding palm with it. “Mittys,” he muttered under his breath. She chuckles, “You haven’t taught me that word yet.” 

And for the first time in a lifetime, a genuine amused smirk was plastered across his face. “Stay still,” he ordered, tightening the cloth on her palm. 

When he was done, she gazed up at him for a moment. “How long has it been?” She suddenly asked. “I have not been counting,” Aemond replied, still holding her scarred hand. She slowly then pulled him to bed, sitting down. “You must stay for awhile. Or else they’d be suspicious.” 

Gods be good.

She was too kind for him. 

And he joined her, laying on the bed side by side. He wonders if she’s still afraid of him as their hands brushed against each other. He never realized how much he craved for her touch. Wondering what it feels like to be held by her. Would she be gentle? Or would she push him away? 

“Usōven,” he muttered, looking at her. Apologizing for that night.

She turned her head to look at him. And smiled.

“I forgive you.”

-

I guess I am always, it's not a problem

It's just something, I got used to it

It got worse.

His yearning for her.

He was afraid to touch her, for he did not want to touch her like a whore. She was his equal. He didn’t want to hurt her.

So he lets all of his frustration to Madame Sylvie. He was attached to her even before his wife returned to his life, yet her presence made him worse. With the war…and his guilt for the death of Lucerys…and now the presence of her…it frustrates him. Every single time he fucks that whore, he thinks of her. He imagined that it was her in bed.

Imagined that it was her holding him.

At Least he could keep her safe from him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He never meant for it to happen in the first place.

But when he returned from his sins back to his sacred sanctuary, he finds nothing but horror in the keep.

They murdered his nephew. 

Prince Jaehaerys. 

A son for a son.

It was his fault his nephews were dead. 

It was supposed to be him who’s dead. Whose head should be beheaded. Not his nephew. Not anyone. 

After inspecting his chambers, he rushed to his wife’s room. Finding her in bed, holding Helaena and Jaehaera as the three girls cried. He saw how terrified the three of them were, but he noticed how she cradled his sister and his niece. Whispering nothing but reassurance to them. “It’s okay, they’re gone now…you’re both safe,” he heard her. She has always taken care of Helaena and the kids well. 

Noticing his presence, his wife looked up, finding him unable to move from the doorway. She lets go of her grieving sister in law and niece as she walks to him. Her eyes were teary and red. 

Oh how he hates to see her cry.

He looks down at her, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“Where were you?” Her question rang through his ear as her voice cracked on the last word she spoke. Guilt consumed him- no. Guilt starts to eat him slowly but surely. Eating him alive as her wife, her sister, his niece, and his brother grieve for the death of the young innocent prince. He couldn’t say a word, instead hugging his wife tight as she cried into his chest. Sobbing loudly as the castle was filled with darkness. Not a light of hope in sight.

“No one will hurt you. I swear it to you. I’m here..i’m here,” he whispers to his wife as she cried.

He might’ve gotten used to the pain people put on him, but he realized that he would never ever get used to seeing her cry. 

He would never let anyone hurt her.

He would protect her from the cruel world.

Even from himself.

-

Every stranger makes me feel safer

And every person seems more beautiful

“I do regret that business with Luke, I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it.”

“They used to tease me, y’know? Because I was different.”

He knew he should be seeking comfort from his wife, but he couldn’t. As much as she makes him feel like him…he was still afraid his wife would see right through him. To judge him. So he couldn’t. Not to her. 

He feels safer in the arms of a whore, who has no power over him. While his wife, she had all the power to control him if she could. 

Nights went on and he sneaked out secretly. And no one knew. He was safe. His secret was safe.

Until Aegon…had to ruin everything like he always did.

Humiliating him was always his brother’s hobby.

Blinded with anger, he stomps and storms back to the keep. Wanting his brother and the world to disappear. He wanted to be alone. He hated everything. Yet he didn’t realize that a certain someone was still awake.

Closing Helaena’s bedroom door, lady Tyrell exits the queen’s bedroom for Helaena finds comfort from her sister in law. Just as she wanted to call it a night, she’s standing face to face with no other than her husband.

“Aemond,” she says in surprise.

He froze. He didn’t know what to say. All the rage and humiliation were gone in an instant. His face was covered with guilt and fear. “Wife,” he answered with a hint of anxiety dripping down his tongue.

“Where have you been?” She chuckled, thinking that he was just out for a walk or something. In her mind, she would never ever even think that Aemond would be doing things like that behind her back. 

Aemond stiffened, unable to answer. Before his brother always had to ruin the show.

“Look who it is!” Aegon says as his kingsguard follows behind him. “Your husband here…well, how do I say it..ah yes, was in the whore house, dear sister,” Aegon cackles, nudging Aemond’s arm before earning a hard punch from Aemond. 

He saw red. He saw red in his eyes. He hated his brother. He hates him. He should’ve shut up. He never should’ve brought him to that place in the first place, he should’ve never returned to that place!-

“What..?” His wife’s voice slightly trembled.

Even when Aegon was in pain on the ground, he cackled. Obviously still drunk. “You heard me! He was fucking that whore like a hound!” Aegon continues to say and starts to make howling sounds. 

Aemond saw how she started to grip her nightgown, her hands trembling. Her eyes were teary, not wanting to cry.

He disappointed her.

Disappointing the only person who has faith in him.

“I…I must go…sleep well your grace and….husband,” she says nervously as she curtsied at the two brothers before walking away. 

He watched her walk away. Not daring to chase after her or call out her name. He wouldn’t dare, for he knew he disappointed her deeply. He hurt her again. Like how he did as a child. And now he’s sure she won't come back to him. This was the start of him losing her.

-

She hasn't talked to him since then. What used to be civil and peaceful. Her small talks and smiles weren’t present at his presence. She avoided him at all times. To the point where enough was enough. He couldn’t live like this. He needed her to talk to him. He doesn’t want his marriage to end like his father and his mother. He cares for her…he…he…he loves her.

And when he blinks, he finds himself standing in front of her chamber doors one morning. 

He knocked gently.

“Come in,” he heard her sweet voice that he missed from her room. 

When he enters, he received her sad and surprised expression.

“Husband,” she greeted stoically, looking away.

He then realized how her closet was wide open and empty. Her clothes scattered on the bed as he saw her stuffing her dresses onto her..

“What’s this?!” He protested.

“Mother said it’s not safe for me to be in kings landing. War is coming and…I must go home,” she says in a sad tone.

His heart sank deep hearing her words.

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving him.

“You are not going anywhere,” he insisted, roughly taking dresses out of her hands. 

“Aemond-“

“Not on my sight!-“

“But Aemond-!”

“You are safe here! With me! With Vhagar!” He exclaims roughly, taking out of her dresses from her trunk. 

“Aemond, stop it!”

Yet Aemond does not answer. 

“I will keep you safe. Vhagar will keep you safe, no one will never hurt you-“

“But you did!”

Silence.

Gods, he hated the silence between them.

“You don’t understand,” he grunts as he grips the bedsheets. “How can I understand if you never let me in?!” She protested, tears streaming down from her eyes. He doesn’t even want to look at her. He didn’t want to see her cry.

“See? You wouldn’t even look at me! You wouldn’t touch me, you wouldn’t kiss me, you…,” she points out. 

Aemond sighs in defeat. 

It was all his fault.

But then he roughly took off his eyepatch, towering over her, gripping her wrist as he showed his sapphire eye to her. “And would you? Would you touch this monster, hm? Kiss this husband of yours who’s the reason why two innocent boys are killed? The reason why this war STARTED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!” 

She flinched.

She closed her eyes, scared…waiting for him to do something to her.

It broke him. 

“I…I..forgive me, I..,” Aemond lowers down his voice and hand, releasing her. Now guilt and shame has finally eaten him whole. He hurt her. Again and again. She deserved better. 

Then came a knock on the door.

“Sorry for interrupting, my prince but..the council awaits your presence,” A guard said to him.

“I’ll be there.”

-

Aemond took his time and walked out of her chambers with her as her trunks were carried out from her room. It was present how there’s a gap between them. He wanted to hold her hand terribly, but he couldn’t. Not after what he did to her.

He felt how people were looking. Eyes on them as they walked through the halls of the red keep. He tried one more time to reach his pinky finger to hers but when they touched, she pulled her hand away to rub her other arm. 

He lost her.

He probably never had her in the first place.

When they reached her carriage, he didn’t want to tear his eyes from her. 

“I would, y’know?” She suddenly says with her gentle voice.

“Pardon?”

“I would…kiss and touch you,” she repeats. “The monster you said of…is still my husband. You’re still my husband,” she emphasizes.

Her words touched him somewhere in the deepest parts of his heart that no one has touched before. It made him frozen and unable to move a single muscle or bone in his body.

“I know that I am not what you needed, and I know that I’m nothing to you-.”

She was terribly wrong. How wrong she was. She meant the world to him.

She was…everything to him.

“I hope you will find what you’re looking for in the future.”

He didn’t want anyone but her.

They looked back and saw people watching.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

She has always been far much braver than him. So she walked back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, just beneath his eye patch. Beneath his scar. 

“Geros ilas, my love…avy jorrāelan,” she whispered to him before pulling away and stepping into her carriage without looking back.

And little did Aemond know, that will be the last time he would ever get to see her. 

In his heart, he blamed the world again. 

He blamed his brother.

He blamed everyone and everything that took her away from him.

Maybe in another life, the war wouldn’t have happened, Aegon wouldn’t have took him to the brothel, Lucerys didn’t take his eye, and maybe.. he could hold her like a normal person would. Maybe they’d have children…and maybe…maybe she’d stay. 

But right now, he walks back to the keep to assemble their army. To rook’s rest. To prove his brother and the whole world. To win this war.

For her. 

a/n: Hello everyone! I’m Alice and thank you so much for reading! Fyi I used to write on tumblr but my old account was like semi suspended? Idk I couldn’t interact with people, I couldn’t comment on people’s post so now I’m here and uhh hi🥹I hope you enjoy this one shot and I’m only gonna write fics mainly about the Ewanverse so you’re in for a ride🫶🏻🤗 I’m gonna write more in the future and thank you for sticking around until the end of this fic! Thank you once againnn💞💞

melting Ice - Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You are about to marry Aemond Targaryen. Your arrival at the Reed Keep is greeted with coldness and you have a hard time settling in and coming to terms with marrying into this strange family. But after a restless evening you can't take it anymore and go to talk to Aemond. This evening brings you and your betrothed a little closer as he lets you see behind his facade.

Words: 2.971

Warnings: angst?, arranged marriage, insecure Aemond

A/N: Frist time writing Aemond // English is not my first language// no beta reader// Gif not mine // no use of Y/N// AO3

I hope you like this :)

You crawl through your stuff. You've been back in Red Keep for a week, but your belongings are not all unpacked jet.

The hot summer air radiate through the stones of your new home and you whipe away a few drops of sweat from your brows. You miss the light briese that always go through your cambers in  Casterly Rock. The heat in Kings Landing is muggy and brings the stank from the city and not the fresh air of the sea. But you're gonna have to get used to it. It's unlikely you'll ever see your home again. Not once you're married. This is the fate of thousands of Ladies in the seven Kingdomes . You all get shipped of to marry and never come back home.

You sigh. At least you won't marry a man who could be your father or grandfather. No, you're the future bride of Aemond Targaryen. Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. Maybe you have luck with your husbands age. And you will become a princess. That's the dream of thousands of young ladies, and you can live it. From the outside it sounds perfect. Like a song. The reality is different. In reality, you are a pawn in the game of power, securing the loyalty and armies of your family for the Targaryens. This marriage is a reward for years of service from your family.

For your betrothed you are a burden. You're back here for a week and maybe you exchanged two sentences with the prince. He was in no way rude, but neither was he really warm. You got the feeling it was more of a inconvenient for him than anything else. He doesn´t want to spend any minute with you. He ignored your invitations to go for a walk or for a afternoon tea.

Instead he dumped you on his sister. Helaena, a sweet girl who is fixated on insects and with her thoughts everywhere except in the here and now. But she was the only one that makes you feel you are welcome here. She was the one who showed you around and invited you to tea, go on picnics, walk in the gardens or do handicrafts. She also introduced you to her twins. Sweet children that you can't keep apart yet.

The Queen only gave you a cold smile and explained her wedding preparations to you, she didn´t ask for you opinion of your wedding. But you think that´s the way your life is from now on.

Aegon, your future brother in law is an arrogant prince who likes to drink and spend his time with whores. Not one nice word comes over his lip just a rude remark about your appearance as the whole family greets you after your arrival.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and rub your temple to get rid of the slight headache.

At Casterly Rock you felt trapped. A golden cage guarded by lions. Your cage is still there, only now you're being guarded by dragons.

Is this your life now? Lonely and alone surrounded by strangers? This is not how you imagined it all. You've known half your life that you would be Aemond's wife. The betrothal was make when you were just a little girl. And of course you were excited to become a princess. Your stupid little girl dreams were full of romance, love and your knightly prince with blonde hair.

And for a little while you had hope. When you were younger, you went to King's Landing with your mother to get to know your future husband. He was a sweet, almos shy boy, with a kind smile who had discussed history with you for hours or dance with you at a picnic. You thought your stupid girls dreams were coming true.

But now there is nothing left of the boy from your memories.

Aemond Targaryen had grown into a cold man who had an almost dangerous aura around him and observed everything with an arrogant distance. The sweet smile you remembered is gone. You're sure he hasn't smiled in years.

Will your marriage be like this? Married to a stranger?

You put a few of your writing utensils on your desk. Your thoughts go to the letters you wrote to Ameond over the years, but one day he just stopped answering you. Did you do something wrong?

Was this marriage doomed to failure from the beginning?

You sigh again and try to push your thoughts from the past away.

It had been a sunny day that slowly turned into a beautiful evening. The setting sun is still shining in your window. You've already had your dinner with your mother and now there's nothing left for you to do. But you are restless. The thoughts of your future life do not allow you to find peace. Gods you are a Lannister from Casterly Rock. A lion! And not a decorative piece that gets ignored and sidelined. Aemond shows no interest in you and you want to know why. The question of what you did wrong haunts you. In your home you were always surrounded by friends, the lords who visited your family praised your kindness and your beauty. You enjoy reading and you are sure that you are a pleasant conversation partner. However, your future husband seems to prefer to ignore you.

You feel lonely. As lonely as you've never been in your life.

No! Your life won't be like that! You refuse to accept this. If Aemond wants to ignore you, he has to give you a good reason for it.

You straighten your back and smooth down your skirts. With quick steps you reach the door and leave your chambers.

"My lady, where do you intent to go?" the guard at your door asks.

"I'm visiting my betrothed." you answer without stopping. The guard follows right behind you.

"You have been instructed not to leave your chambers alone."

"I am not alone. You are with me."

"But my lady..."

"Enough." you just interrupt him. You definitely won't let him change your mind. You will talk to Aemond! But after a few steps you stop. You don't know where the prince's chambers are. You turn slightly to face the guard.

"Where are the prince's chambers?" you ask.

"I must ask you to return to your chambers."

You grimace. "You swore to serve House Targaryen Correct?"

"Yes my lady."

"In a fortnight I will be a Princess of House Targaryen. So you also swore to serve me."

"But my lady.."

"Please."

The guard shifts from one foot to the other and shakes his head slightly. "I have instructions..."

"Fine. Don't help me, I'll just find the way on my own. I hope you're willing to follow me through the Red Keep all night." You turn around sharply to continue walking.

"The other way. Here." you hear after a few steps behind you. You turn around again and look in the direction the guard points .

You give him a smile. "Thank you very much."

You follow his directions and a short time later you find yourself in front of the prince's chambers. You take a deep breath and then knock firmly on the door. It takes a moment and you are invited in. As you attempt to open the door, your guard takes a few steps forward to follow you. "I want to talk to him alone."

"My lady it is inappropriate, you need a chaperone."

"Do you doubt your prince's honor?"

"Of course not!"

"So."

"But my Lady..."

You sigh. "I know I'm not making your job easy today, but I promise to do better. Just not today. I just want one private conversation with the prince. Please."

Now it's his turn to sigh. "I'll wait outside the door. Right infront the door."

"Of course. Thank you." You open the door and enter the prince's chambers. Aemond is sitting on one of the sofas, there is a cup of wine on the table next to him and there is an old book on his lap whose title you can't see. When he sees you he stands up surprised.

"My Lady." he says confused. You close the door behind you and curtsy slightly. You hope he doesn't insist that you curtsy every time you see him after your wedding, but that's not the topic of tonight. Tonight you want an answer.

“Is something troubeling you?” He sounds cold and not really interested, but you push aside the nagging feeling of insecurity. Maybe that was a bad idea after all? But you're here now. Now there is no turning back.

"Yes, something is bothering me." you answer. You are a lion of Casterly Rock. Hear Me Roar! these are your words. And you will show this dragon that you cannot be ignored. Aemond looks at you with a cold expression.

"How can I help you?" he asks annoyed. He's making it clear to you that he doesn't want you here. But you just ignore that. He ignores you, so you can ignore his wishes. You take a deep breath and straight yourself up. You make yourself taller than you are and scrape up all your self-confidence together.

"You do not like me." you say. Aemond's expression changes just for a second, then he wears his cold mask again. You hold his gaze.

"I do not know you." he then says. The bored tone makes you angry.

"And that's your fault." you throw at him. The prince rolls his eye.

"Did you come here to insulte me?"

You bite your lip. "No." you say quietly. "I want to know why you don't like me. I want to know what I did wrong."

Aemond's gaze goes over you. Then he turns to the side, reaches for his wine cup and drinks it. Then he takes the jug and refills his cup and fills a second one.

"Sit with me please." he says, pointing to the seat next to him. You take the steps to the couch and sit down. The pillows are soft, but you still sit straight and ignore the cup of wine in front of you. You suppress the urge to shift back and forth.

"So?" you press.

"You have done nothing wrong."

"Then why have you been ignoring me since I got here?"

"If you wouldn't interrupt me." he says in a strained voice.

You bite your lip again. "I'm sorry."

"Like I said, you didn't do anything wrong. I thought you'd prefer to have time for yourself."

"I had enough time for myself. I'm all alone here. And I would like to know my betrothed before I have to marry him. But you don't even give me the chance to get to know you. You disappear all day long. I don't know anything about you. The only information I get are the gossip from the servants." You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you quickly blink them away. Aemond's jaw tenses with your words. But you're not quite finished yet. "I don't understand why. We used to write letters to each other and then you stopped replying. And since I've been here you have continued to ignore me. So give me a good reason!"

"I have give you my reasons." he says but doesn´t meet your eyes.

"No. That wasn't a good reason." you insist. That can not be it. Because he thought you needed time for yourself? Nonsense! There has to be another reason. Your thoughts are racing and before you can stop yourself you start talking again.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Not a pleasant conversation partner? Not worthy of your attention? What is it?"

"No of course not."

"Don't you think I'm pretty?"

"Oh please, you're beautiful." he says, sounding a little annoyed.

"So what's your problem?"

"There's no problem. It's just.." he interrupts himself and then takes a deep breath. "You must be very disappointed with this engagement." "With your behavior. Yes, I tried to explain this to you."

"No. Not with that. With the engagement to me. With a disabled prince."

You stare at him, stunned, for a few moments. "What?"

"Don't play dumb. You're beautiful, you probably had hundreds of requests for your hand in marriage."

"The two of us have been engaged since we were children. That's well known."

"Won't change the fact that you have a lot of admirers. Am I wrong?"

You furrow your eyebrows. Yes, of course, many men have given you compliments and little gifts and begged for your attention, but that's normal. You come from a rich, powerful family. You were never really interested in any of that. Why should you? You was already engaged. You had your dream prince. Until he stopped being a dream prince. Before you can answer Aemond talks again.

"I can imagine how embarrassing it is for you to have to marry a disabled prince."

"A disabled prince?"

"Aemond one eye. I know what people call me."

"And why do you think I care?"

He laughs joylessly. "Of course you care."

Anger rises within you again. "You judge me? Without knowing me? How dare you?"

You jump to your feet. Aemond winces. He probably didn't expect this reaction. You start pacing back and forth in front of him. "You think I'm unhappy with our engagement because you're missing an eye?You disappoint me."

"Everyone thinks that. You must be devastated. All your admirers and you are stuck with me."

"I´m not stuck with you. I was happy to be engaged to you. Until you turned out to be a complete idiot." you stop infront of him and glare at him.

"Remember who you talk to."

"I'm talking to the man I'm going to marry. Who obviously already made up his mind. Without knowing me. That's cruel."

Aemond is silent for a moment. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me. Tell me anything, no matter what. But we can't do it like this. We can't live like this. We can't ignore each other our whole lives. Or is that what you want?" you ask, realizing you sound desperate.

"No of course not." his voice is no longer annoyed, he sounds more tired. You get on your knees in front of him to be at the same eye level again. You hesitate for a moment but then place your hands on his knees. His eyes examine you carefully, but you don't avoid his gaze.

"So where did that sweet boy I met back then go?"

"That sweet boy you were talking about lost his eye and no one cared." his jaw tenses again.

"I wrote you letters. I asked you how you were doing. How you felt. You didn't answer."

"I didn't read it. I thought you were just writing it out of obligation."

"You could have ask me." you say.

"I guess I underestimated you."

"Yes, perhaps."

"I shouldn't have assumed something about you."

"No you shouldn´t." you agree with him.

Aemond takes your hand. "I shouldn't have ignored you. I should have gotten to know you."

"You can do better now."

"I will." he says. "Promise."

You smilie at him. The conversation went better than you could ever imagined.

"And I will start right away." he then says. You look at him confused. Aemond takes a deep breath and lets go of your hand. Slowly his hands go to the back of his head and undoes the buckle of his eye patch. The leather slides carefully from his eye. The blue sapphire sparkles at you. The scar is always only half covered by the eye patch, but now without it, the scar is even more prominent.

You carefully raise your hand, but before you touch him you stop. "May I?" you whisper. He nods. You touch his cheek tenderly and caress it. "You're beautiful." You say. You see the slight blush on his cheek. A smile dances around his lips.

"Thank you." he places his hand over yours and carefully removes it from his cheek. He kisses your knuckles.

"I just say the truth." Now it's a real smile at Aemonds face.

You straighten up and come back to your feet again. You take a deep breath to bring yourself back into the here and now.

"It's late. I should go back to my chambers."

"Yes. Would you like me to accompany you?"

"That won't be necessary. My guard is right outside the door." you nod towards the door with a smile. Aemond raises an eyebrow, but you don't explain further.

"What do you think about accompanying me to Vhagar tomorrow?"

"To your dragon?"

"Yes."

Nervousness and excitement rise within you. "I would like that very much." you answer and the smile dances around his lips again.

Aemond leaves the eye patch on the table as he walks you to the door. He opens it and your guard half stumbles into the room. He must have leaned against the door.

"My prince." he says and bows. You suppress a laugh. He really was right outside the door.

"I trust you to get my betrothed back to her chambers safely ."

"Of course my prince." the guard stutters.

"Sleep well my lady." Aemond now turns to you. He kisses your hand and this time the blush rises in your cheeks.

"Sleep well my Prince." You say.

You turn away and make your way back to your chambers. Your guard right behind you and you can even find the way without his help. You are hopeful about your marriage. Yes, a conversation doesn't solve all the problems, but it was a good start. It's not perfect yet but it's better. And maybe he and you can manage to have a peaceful marriage and maybe be happy with eachother.

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.

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MASTERLIST

Studious (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

Your marriage to the One-Eyed Prince is not as romantic as you hoped. At least he does not seem eager to perform his duty after your wedding night... Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N) Warnings: SMUT, p in v sex, bad sex (these kids have no idea what they're doing) Aegon's commentary at the end is probably a warning too

Author's note: This is my first ever one-shot!!! I wrote this based on a conversation I had a few weeks ago with @valeskafics and @womprat00 about how canon Aemond would likely act in bed... and here we are. There's probably gonna be a part 2 eventually, but idk when. I mostly wrote this to try and clear my writer's block around the upcoming chapters of The Silver Dragon.

Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

Studious

The wedding feast had been a wonder. Hundreds of candles illuminated the Great Hall, casting golden light upon the celebration below. The wine flowed and tingled in your veins, making you feel so light you almost forgot your nerves.

You had danced with every man in attendance and even a few of the women – including your new good sister, Princess Helaena. But only once with your new husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

After your opening dance, he returned to the table at the head of the hall, picking halfheartedly at his food and never more than sipping at his wine.

His eye – his singular violet eye – was on you all night, watching you with some emotion you could not name.

You did not allow yourself to think on it too deeply. Instead, you let yourself be lost in the celebration. You were a princess now, the wife to a dragonrider. Your children’s cradles would be warmed by dragon eggs, and they would go on to make history.

In the face of that, what did it matter that your husband had not spoken to you since the wedding ceremony? That he seemed so hesitant to touch or even look at you?

But then the Queen called for the bedding, and it mattered so much.

Aemond stiffly took your arm, never meeting your eyes, and led you out of the Great Hall.

Your only consolation came from the Queen’s insistence on a private bedding.

-

The bedchamber was starkly different from the exuberant joy of the Great Hall. You had not yet had the chance to decide how to put your personal touch on the new apartments, so the walls and tables were bare. There was only a single candelabra lighting the empty room, and the only thing signaling that it was occupied at all was the presence of two books on the bedside table: your personal copy of The Seven-Pointed Star and your diary.

You felt the urge to hide the diary for some fear that your new husband would read it and discover your hesitancies about the marriage – about him.

But Aemond had not looked at you since you both entered the room. You looked up at him to see if he had spotted the diary, but his eye was closed, his brow furrowed. It wasn’t until you spotted the slight movement of his lips that you realized.

He was praying.

It dampened your nerves, if only slightly, to know he was just as anxious as you. And to know he was as pious as the rumors said. There, at least, you could find some commonality.

You followed his lead, as a dutiful wife should, and bowed your own head in silent prayer.

You thanked the Maiden for such a fine match, begged the Crone to grant you the wisdom to be a worthy wife, and the Smith to strengthen the bonds of your union. Finally, you asked the Mother for her blessing in making the marriage fruitful, that she would soon bless you and your husband with a son and heir.

That task was not in the hands of the Mother alone, however.

Your husband continued his own prayer for long moments after you had again opened your eyes, leaving you standing there with your head bowed and your hands clasped in front of you.

Aemond took a deep breath, drawing your eyes back to his face. It was a handsome face, you thought. When you heard of his injury, you had imagined something far more… monstrous. And while his scar, mostly covered by his eyepatch, was unsightly, you still considered yourself lucky to have him as a husband.

He was better than that Frey boy, at least.

The corners of his lips twitched, and for a moment, you thought he might smile. But he did not. His face remained mostly impassive as he looked at the braids pile atop your head.

“The pins may be uncomfortable. Do you… need help?” he asked, his voice just as soft as it had been when he swore his vows. He obviously didn’t want to deal with it himself.

So, you shook your head and stepped toward the vanity. “No,” you answered. “I can manage.”

He said nothing more as you sat on the short stool and began removing the gold and pearl pins from your hair. Every time you glanced at him in the mirror, he was standing precisely where he had been, arms crossed behind his back as he stared at the bed.

Suddenly worried that he would grow impatient, you began tearing the pins out with less care, stifling your soft whimpers when you accidentally took a few strands of hair with them. Finally, your hair was down. But you only became more nervous when you looked in the mirror.

You looked ridiculous. After being braided in so many different ways and set for so long, it stood up in several places, fell in frizzy curls in others, and lay dull and flat along the back of your head. Hardly the sight to entice a man into bedding you.

Your husband still only stared at the bed, even as you came to stand next to him, straightening the skirts of your wedding gown. Then, his eye flicked to you, and over the wild mess of your hair, before landing on your bodice.

“Lay on the bed,” he instructed.

You obeyed, resting your head on the pillows and crossing your hands over your waist. What you were meant to do with your legs, you did not know. So, you simply held them out straight, awaiting further command.

Keeping your breath steady when you heard the soft sound of leather unlacing was no easy feat. Perhaps you would not have heard it if it hadn’t been so silent. But it seemed even the crickets, which usually chirped loudly at this hour, wanted you to be wholly present for your wedding night.

Aemond made a sound then, something halfway between a groan and hiss, and you instinctively looked toward him.

You wished you hadn’t.

He stood at the end of the bed, still fully dressed save that he had pulled his trousers down just enough to expose his cock as he stroked himself impatiently.

He was big.

You had only seen a man naked once before– some drunken servant wandering through the gardens one morning who had later been whipped for exposing himself to you.

Aemond was near twice that man’s size, and with the stones to match.

You fixed your eyes on the ceiling, trying not to think about it. Your mother had warned you there would be discomfort, and perhaps some pain. After what you just saw, you knew it was going to hurt.

But it was your duty. You were expected to be a good wife. A good wife lets her husband take his pleasure, fill her with his seed, and gives him heirs.

So, though your fingers trembled, you pulled your skirts up around your waist.

Aemond muttered his thanks and climbed onto the bed next to you. Carefully, he set a hand on one of your thighs, pulling slightly. Understanding the request in the motion, you shyly spread your legs, clenching your fists at your sides to resist the urge to cover yourself with your hands.

Aemond moved between your thighs, stroking himself once more before finally looking back at your face.

You could not decipher the expression on his face. His lips were tight and pursed, his brow slightly furrowed, and his eye wide. Nor could you hide your shock when he leaned down to press his lips stiffly against yours.

Neither of you moved your lips. You would not know how; your first kiss had been with him in the Sept earlier that day. Though you had seen people kiss before, moving their lips and tongues with sensual, passionate hunger, you had no idea how to do so yourself.

Thankfully, it did not seem as though Aemond cared to. He withdrew as fast as he had leaned down, once more refusing to look at your face. Instead, he dragged his eye down your form, lingering slightly on the hint of cleavage that peeked out of your bodice before coming to rest at your sex.

The corner of his lip twitched as he reached out to run a finger through your folds, spreading you open for him to see. His touch was warm, the sensation unfamiliar, and you let out a soft cry as you instinctively pulled away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time.

You shyly edged yourself back down the bed toward him, silently granting him permission to continue whatever he needed to do. As you fixed your eyes back on the ceiling, you prayed again to the Mother and Maiden that this would be over before you died of embarrassment.

Aemond rubbed his hand over his thigh to try and warm his fingers before he brought them back to you. He trailed his finger slowly down your center curiously, as though you were a book he was scanning for a particular passage. Though your toes curled at the strange, almost pleasurable feeling of his touch, you kept your legs still.

Then, he withdrew his hand as though he had found whatever he was looking for. Then, he leaned back over you again, holding himself up by his left hand as his right stayed between you.

He did not move to kiss or look at you. Instead, his eye was fixed on where the tip of his cock now met your entrance.

Whatever pleasure his touch had brought you was gone the minute he began to push into you, your every sense fading to the painful stretch you felt. Your only relief came from it looking like Aemond was in as much pain as you. His jaw was tight, his teeth clenched, and his eye squeezed tightly shut.

So, you fisted the sheets in your hands, curled your toes against the pain, and shut your eyes.

You felt him push further and further in, and a soft hiss escaped his lips as his stones came to rest against you.

Gods, all of him had fit?

He stilled momentarily, bringing his other hand to your side to support him.

Then he began to move. Slowly at first, but quickly building speed. The pain remained, mixed with something entirely unfamiliar to you, something you could not decide whether you enjoyed.

Aemond stilled once again before you could decide, a guttural groan escaping him as his head fell to rest against your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, but you hardly felt it, not as you felt his cock twitching inside you, even when his hips were not moving.

Was that it?

Your breath had grown swift and heavy, and an emptiness settled in your stomach, even as Aemond was still inside you.

When he finally pulled himself from your neck, he looked back at your face. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you again. But your confusion must have been evident on your face, for he immediately looked away and pulled himself from you as he climbed off the bed.

He did not face you as he stuffed himself back in his trousers and righted his eyepatch.

Had you done something wrong?

You sat up to ask him but halted when you felt something wet between your legs. You pushed the volume of your skirts aside to find something thick and white leaking from you.

His seed. He had given you his seed, so you must not have done anything wrong.

You looked back up to find his face flushed as he swiftly turned away from you and walked toward the door.

“Good night,” he whispered.

Then he left.

He had not noticed your hand outstretched toward him, beckoning him to stay.

-

Two weeks passed, and your husband had not returned to your chambers.

Part of you was glad, for the wedding night had left you… confused, to say the least. But sometimes, your mind drifted back to his warmth as he lay atop you. To the softness of his lips on yours. To that feeling that drifted too close to pleasure before he stilled once more.

But each pleasant memory was met with an unpleasant one. The stiff way he moved. The way he so obviously did not want to look at you. How quickly he had finished and left without another glance your way.

When the other ladies of the court asked for details, whether he truly had dragonfire in his blood, you simply blushed and feigned bashfulness. Soon, they grew tired of not receiving a satisfactory answer and left you alone.

As did Aemond, it seemed. You saw him only occasionally, and mostly in an official capacity.

In the Throne Room each day, you dutifully stood beside him as his mother or grandsire held court.

At a reception held for a visiting Dornish lord, Prince, or some other thing, he only danced with you once, moving just as stiffly as he had on your wedding night.

You sat next to him at the evening meals he ate with his family every night. He would help you in and out of your chair, and even held heavy platters for you when you served yourself, but he never spoke to or looked at you for longer than necessary.

His mother did, asking you polite questions about your family and interests. Princess Helaena was very curious about the insects you saw at your family keep and occasionally muttered strange phrases you could not understand. At the first meal, Prince Aegon had made several lewd comments about the bedding, but the Queen silenced him quickly.

If Aemond listened to any of it, he gave no indication.

So, you decided to seek him out yourself. Perhaps he was shy and wanted you to take the first step in building a relationship. You donned your warmest cloak and asked a guard to show you the way to the training yard.

It was not hard to spot him amongst the guards and knights in the yard, for there was no one else in the castle with that long white hair.

He moved with such grace as he fought, entirely at odds with how he had been in your bed. His sword seemed like an extension of his arm – a deadly one. You were wholly enraptured by the sight, filled with disbelief that this was the awkward man you had married.

As the fight ended, with the tip of Aemond’s sword pressed against his opponent’s neck, you felt a hollowness in your stomach. Not quite the same emptiness you felt when he pulled out of you, but a yearning for something.

Perhaps for that pleasure you had just started to feel when he stopped thrusting into you and quickly left.

Indeed, when someone below pointed you out to him, and he looked up at you, his chest heaving with the effort of the fight, a thrill ran down your spine.

But then Aemond grimaced at the sight of you and turned away. Your heart clenched as you watched him angrily discard his weapons and stalk out of the training yard without another glance your way.

That grimace hurt more than all the looks of pity then turned your way as you ran back into the castle.

-

You did not join your husband or his family for the night’s evening meal, citing a headache. When your maids brought you chicken broth and a loaf of lightly buttered bread, you only nibbled at it before sending it away. You had no appetite. Not for anything.

Except perhaps home.

For the first time since you arrived in the capital, in the Red Keep, you wanted to go home.

Home was not as glamorous or exciting as the castle, but at least there were people there who cared for you. Who talked to you.

Here, you were entirely alone.

And alone you would stay, it seemed. It had been exactly two weeks since your wedding day, and Aemond still had not returned to you.

So, you fell into your new routine. After dismissing your maids, you settled into the plush couch by your sitting room hearth, a cup of spiced wine in one hand and a book in the other.

You no longer bothered to wear the silk and lace nightclothes your mother sent with you. There was no one to appreciate them, to be tempted by them. So instead, you donned a long nightgown made of simple, soft white cotton with long flowing sleeves that made you feel like a faerie when they trailed behind you. Atop it was a brocaded dressing gown in the colors of your house, a warm and welcome reminder of home.

Then came the knock at your door. Three soft raps in quick succession.

“Who is it?” you called, though you knew the answer. There was only one person it could be at this hour.

There was a long pause.

“Your husband,” a soft voice replied. “Prince Aemond.”

With shaking legs, you stood, setting down your wine and book, and stepped to the door. You did not look at his face as you cracked it open, not wanting to see another grimace.

“I know who you are,” you whispered. “I have only one husband.”

He did not laugh, but had you been looking, you would have seen his answering smile.

“Are you feeling well?” he asked, still standing just outside the door.

“Quite well,” you said. Then you winced, remembering that you had told the Queen you had a headache. “I mean… better. I feel better.”

Aemond’s brow furrowed, and he blinked several times before speaking again. “May I come in?”

Every muscle in your body tensed, but you stepped back and opened the door further to allow him entry. A good wife did not deny her husband, and despite everything, you were still determined to be a good wife.

He still did not look at you as he examined the room, his gaze lingering on the book you were reading. Then, once again, he stood with his back to you and his arms crossed behind him.

The silence was nearly unbearable. Perhaps if you still thought him simply shy, you could withstand it. But after the way he looked at you in the training yard…

“Is there something I can do for you, husband?” You drew your dressing robe tighter around yourself, feeling more exposed now than when he was bedding you.

Perhaps because you had finally started to make your apartments your own. You felt that with every item, every tapestry or trinket he looked at, he was seeing a piece of your soul.

You watched the curtain of his hair waver slightly as he dipped his head. “Did you really have a headache? Or did you simply not want to endure my family tonight?”

Your heart stilled, and you felt fear seep into your bones. He would not hurt you, of that, you were sure. But you still somehow dreaded disappointing or upsetting him.

“I…” you stammered, unable to form words, much less an answer.

Aemond turned back to you, an unreadable expression in that lone violet eye. “I will not be mad if you did,” he said, somehow knowing your very thoughts. “I often do the same.”

He raised a hand to gesture to his eyepatch and the scar that lay beneath it. “It is not always a lie. That it hurts.”

You blinked, unsure how to react to what he had just told you. The vulnerability of it. He all but ignores you for two weeks, and now this?

“I can leave,” he said suddenly, fixing his hands behind him again. You had not realized he had relaxed his posture until he went rigid again. “If you would prefer it.”

You shook your head weakly. “You don’t have to. I am your wife. It is your right to be here.”

His lip twitched, and he looked almost disappointed at your reply. “It has been two weeks since we were wed.”

“Yes.”

“And we have not… been together since that night.”

“No. We have not.”

Aemond looked away from you again, his breathing suddenly heavier. “We should…” he swallowed thickly. “It is our duty to produce an heir, and we have been neglecting that duty.”

When you were first told you were betrothed to a prince, an idealistic, childish part of you had expected a grand romance. Something worthy of the storybooks.

Never this.

“You are right, my prince,” you whispered, and turned immediately to the bedchamber, not waiting to see if he was following.

Discarding your robe on your armoire, you laid on the bed with your arms crossed in front of you, holding your nightgown up and your legs spread, knees bent to allow him better access. With any luck, he would be finished as quickly as before. Then, perhaps, you would have another two weeks of solitude.

This time, you would not spend it hoping for something he could not give you.

You stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to climb atop you. But he did not come.

Curious, you lifted your head slightly.

Aemond was still in the sitting room, staring at you. Finally, he looked away to undo his belt, which he laid carefully over the back of one of your chairs. Then he removed his jacket, folding it neatly before setting it on the side table. His boots were next and arranged by the hearth to keep them warm.

Only then did he walk to the bedchamber, standing in the doorway as he gazed at your exposed sex.

“Stand up,” he commanded, a rough timbre in his voice.

You were so taken aback that you obeyed immediately, smoothing your nightgown back over your legs.

Aemond followed the movement with that piercing lilac eye of his. “Come here. To me.”

You wanted to ask why, but you could not find your voice. So instead, you were the good little wife you were raised to be, and walked around the bed to stand before him.

He quirked his head as he looked at you, stepping forward to close the gap between you. Then, he reached out to cup your chin in his large, calloused hand and lifted your head to meet his gaze.

His eye flicked down to your lips. “May I kiss you?”

You made a slight, involuntary noise of shock and disbelief. “Why?”

A flash of something you would almost identify as sadness passed over his eyes.

“You are my wife.”

“I know.”

His strong brow crumpled slightly, and he whispered your name gently. “I would very much like to kiss you.”

Only an hour ago, you would never have believed him. But he had just been vulnerable with you, admitting that his eye pained him. And he had come to you to make sure you were alright…

You nodded, the movement small and almost frantic. “You may.”

Aemond did not hesitate. He dove into you eagerly, like he had been waiting for weeks – since that first night together.

His lips were just as soft as you remembered, his skin just as warm. But the kiss was not as stiff. He paused after the initial contact, then kissed you again. He raised his other hand to cradle the back of your head, his long fingers entwining in your hair as he tilted you back to kiss you again and allow him better access to you.

The slight tug on your hair had you whining softly, your lips parting. As soon as they did, you felt something wet flick against them.

Your eyes, which you had not realized you had shut, snapped open. Aemond’s eye was closed, his brow set in concentration. Then, you felt that thing again, coaxing your lips open even further.

It was his tongue, you realized. He was using his tongue to kiss you, just as you had seen true lovers do.

A shiver ran through you, and you panicked.

“Stop!” you cried, pushing away from him.

He froze, his hand still aloft where it had just been tangling in your hair. His eye was wide with that unnamed emotion again, and he whispered your name. A plea, a question.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

Aemond shook his head, not quite understanding. “Kissing you.”

You licked your lips, still tasting him on you. “Why? You did not kiss me before. So why do you need to now?”

Now you knew that look was hurt. You, your words, and your hesitancy, it had hurt him. But he did not give you time to apologize.

“I don’t need to,” he said. “If you don’t want to. We can just… you can get on the bed.”

You nodded again and moved to take up your previous position.

“Can you…” he whispered with a wince of embarrassment as you sat. “Can you take off your nightgown? Please.”

Perhaps you would have refused if you had not felt so guilty for wounding him by asking about the kissing. But you supposed this was as good as an apology and lifted the gown over your head.

You heard Aemond inhale sharply as your breasts were revealed, nipples immediately pebbling in the cold – the fire in the bedchamber had not been lit.

Resisting the urge to cover yourself was one of the hardest things you had ever done. But you gritted your teeth and took up your position.

Hands crossed over your waist, legs apart, knees bent.

At least Aemond returned the favor, removing his shirt and trousers before joining you on the bed. He hovered over you, looking deep into your eyes for a moment, perhaps hoping you would change your mind and let him kiss you again.

But you just stared at him, waiting. You had seen his cock. He was ready. So what was he waiting for?

He gazed at your breasts briefly before sitting back on his knees between your open legs. His cock twitched slightly as he brought his eye to your sex, and he blinked slowly.

Then, Aemond laid his hand on your thigh, rubbing small, slow circles on your soft skin. The tender touch surprised you, but you could not deny it felt… good. The longer his fingers were on you, the more you felt a warm feeling of desire pool in your core.

“What are you doing?” you asked as you fought to steady your breath.

The corners of his mouth lifted into an almost smile. “What I should have done before,” he explained. “You weren’t… made ready for me. I apologize for that.”

“I don’t understand,” you whimpered as his hand drew closer to your folds, which had begun to ache with something that was not quite pain.

Aemond shook his head in what you could have sworn was shame. “You will. It will be better this time, I promise.”

You wanted to say that almost anything would be better than what he had done on your wedding night, but then his fingers reached your core, and words abandoned you.

This touch was different than it had been that night. He was more confident and sure – like he knew now what he was looking for and what he was doing.

He was gentle as he circled your entrance, the movement focused but slow. Your stomach tightened as your toes curled, but you gave no other reaction. How could you when you did not know what he was doing or what he wanted?

You were sure he wanted something. Why else would he be looking at you like that?

So, you offered him a tight smile.

It seemed to encourage him. With his index finger still stroking your entrance, his thumb climbed slowly upwards, spreading the slick that had leaked from you through your folds. The sensation was similar to, albeit less intense than, his previous ministrations.

That is, until his thumb slipped under a small hood of flushed skin at the top of your sex, and lightning shot through your every nerve. Your mouth fell open, and your back arched out of your control.

Had your eyes not been so tightly shut, you would have seen a look of utter triumph come over Aemond’s face. His thumb stayed where it was, circling that spot – that bud – slowly but firmly.

This was pleasure, you realized as the lighting crackled under your skin over and over again with every swipe. Different from what you had begun to feel when he was inside you, but pleasure all the same.

Is this what all those women had laughed about when they asked you about the bedding? They wanted to know whether you had felt this?

Your legs began to shake, and it became hard to breathe. The pleasure building and building within you began to terrify you.

It couldn’t go on like this. It couldn’t just keep growing on and on. It would become too much – it already was too much.

“Stop,” you begged when you were able to gulp in a breath. “Please.”

Aemond’s fingers immediately stilled, that look of hurt once more creasing his brow. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just wanted… did I hurt you?”

You shook your head.

“Did it… feel good?”

Gods, it had felt so good. Too good. It felt almost sinful.

But you weren’t about to admit that.

You readjusted to your original position and waited until your breathing had calmed.

“Can you just…” you licked your lips, suddenly realizing they had gone dry. “Do what you need to do? I’m quite tired.”

His hand, still braced on your thigh, tightened, then relaxed and slid away. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” you whispered as you heard the soft sounds of him pumping his cock to prepare himself.

He did not lean over you this time but remained kneeling between your legs as he gently gripped your hips and pulled you towards him. It did not hurt as much when he entered you again, though the stretching was still uncomfortable.

That same low grunting sound escaped him when he was fully sheathed within you, and he stilled for a moment.

You realized for the first time that maybe he needed that moment of adjustment as much as you did.

But then he began to move. The motion wasn’t as stiff as it had been on your wedding night – not a simply thrusting in and out, but a smooth rolling of his hips.

That other feeling of pleasure you had just begun to feel that last time came to you sooner, more intensely. Then, after one particularly deep thrust, another bolt of lightning ran through you.

A gasp escaped you, and your eyes immediately snapped to Aemond’s face.

His own eye was wide, his lips parted, and jaw slack. He smiled at you like you had just given him a present with that reaction.

Your cheeks flushed, and you turned your head away and into the pillow below you.

Aemond’s movements became more stilted after that, and it was only moments after when he stilled again, and you felt him twitch within you once more. He did not make a noise this time.

He climbed out of bed and, only after dressing again, turned back to you.

It was hard to meet his gaze.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked softly, his tone reminiscent of a scolded child. “I won’t… I will be quick, I promise.”

Guilt crept into you at the desperation in his voice, knowing you had been its cause. You moved to the edge of the bed near him and tried to smile. “You may.”

Aemond moved haltingly as he leaned down and cupped your cheek, his touch like fire on your skin. It was almost as though he expected you to shy away, to take back your permission.

But you didn’t. And he kissed you – quickly, as he had promised. There was not a hint of his tongue.

Then he thanked you and left.

As you fell back against the pillows, you tried not to think about how you almost missed the feeling of his tongue against your lips and his thumb circling that little bud between your legs.

-

“Well, did she come?” Aegon asked the next day, without pretense, manners, or shame.

Aemond bit his lip, knowing what his brother’s response would be. “No. She asked me… to stop pleasuring her and do my marital duty.”

As expected, Aegon nearly fell out of his chair with hysterical laughter. Grand Maester Orwyle and Lord Jasper Wylde – who had both been helping Aemond understand how to better please his wife – grimaced and exchanged a look Aemond did not particularly care to interpret.

“She would rather you breed her like an animal and leave her alone than come?” Aegon barked, shaking his head. “Oh, brother, you are hopeless.”

“I respected her wishes,” Aemond hissed. “Unlike some, I do not force myself on women.”

“No, you just fuck them bone-dry.”

“She wasn’t – ” Aemond swallowed, clenching his fists behind his back to keep him from throttling his brother. “Not this time.”

Sensing the conversation was teetering dangerously close to physical blows, Lord Wylde cut in. “I think, my Prince, it is important to remember that there is a… romantic element to sex. It is not simply a function of the body, but of the heart.”

Aegon groaned.

“Lord Wylde is correct, my Prince,” Orwyle added. “It may do you some good to try and woo her before taking her to bed again. A learned technique can only accomplish so much if she does not crave your touch to begin with.”

“And what would you know about it?” Aegon asked the Grand Maester. “Haven’t you taken a vow of virginity?”

Orwyle’s face remained as impassive as stone. “I have, my Prince. But stimulating arousal, and even orgasm, in women has many medicinal uses. It can have great effect in treating hysteria and melancholy, and even easing the pain of birthing labors, to name a few.”

Aegon’s eyes narrowed. “Did you… have you made Helaena come? Seven hells, have you fingered my wife, Orwyle?”

The Maester said nothing, and that was answer enough.

But before Aegon could say anything more – no one was sure whether he would be offended or impressed – Aemond stepped forward, extending his hands before him as if he could grab the answer to his question.

“I do not know how,” he gritted out.

Neither Orwyle nor Wylde had an answer for him.

Aegon examined his brother and suddenly saw how genuinely desperate he was. The tension in his every muscle leaving him practically trembling before them. The way he refused to meet any of their eyes. And the slight flush on his cheeks.

“Aemond,” he started, all amusement banished from his face. “Do you… love her?”

The One-Eyed Prince looked as though he might cry. Or snap and kill them all. It could be either. Perhaps both.

“She…” he whispered, blinking rapidly as he searched for the words, his silver tongue failing him. “She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. She is soft, and gentle, and kind. And when I went to her chambers last night…”

He broke off and laughed slightly. Then nodded his head like he had found his answer. “She was reading my favorite book.”

The three other men glanced at each other, exchanging raised brows and wide eyes.

It was Lord Wylde who finally spoke. “You have common ground then, my Prince. That is a good place to start.”

don’t take my heart (don’t break my heart) masterlist

Dustin isn’t allowed to date until his sister, Kate, does. Problem is, he already has a girlfriend. He looks for help in the most unlikely place: the Hellfire Club. (complete)

prequel | my other works | taglist | read on ao3

00. prologue

01. head over heels

02. good old-fashioned lover boy

03. louder than words

04. love is a battlefield

05. bad case of loving you

06. moonage daydream

hi, my sweet heart!

first of all i want to tell you that you are one of my favorite writers of all time, and your Aemond fics can be considered, by me, works of art!

your writing is MAGNIFICENT!

with all this, can you write an Aemond fic involving that scene, from episode 8, where Daemon is holding Rhaenyra's hand, showing affection and strength to her? And who is faced with that scene is Daemon. — His sweet daughter with his damn nephew.

— Two dragons, two rivals.

© do not repost or translate !

characters: Aemond Targaryen x (F)Targaryen!reader.

summary: how could two people, two dragons have so many things in common including the hatred they feel for each other?

warnings: incest, explicit language, explicit words, inspired by episode 8

word count: 2.537!

english's not my first language, so sorry for any mistakes!

"ñuha jorrāelagon, gaomagon gīda." (My dear, keep calm.)

Your heavy and distressed steps were echoed by the empty room, which was lit only by the cracks of light coming from the huge window. — It was quite capable of forming a harrowing circle on the smooth floor of the cold place.

Your hands were sweating and you played nervously with your fingers, trying to balance and lessen your anxiety. — It looked like you were going to release fire from your mouth at any moment.

By the looks of it, and you've been warned, your parents, along with your siblings, are on their way to King's Landing to settle some frictions, duties and debate who will inherit the greatest roles in the dragon house. — Well, you're not worried about that, that subject never interested you as much as you were the main heir to the throne.

The eldest daughter, first of your name, hated meetings about it because deep down you knew that being a woman you would never receive the same respect that a male heir could receive.

Destined since childhood to be married to your uncle, following in your mother's footsteps; Rhaenyra thought it more correct and direct to leave you in King's Landing, of course with your father's permission, who hated the idea but learned to agree with it over time. — Daemon made a point of sending ravens with messages, mostly in the Valerian language, to you on every moon.

The rebel prince would never leave his darling daughter alone among those vultures, as he always called them.

Of course you liked the news, seeing your parents and siblings was a gift from the good gods and you thanked them. — But soon, a heavy storm fell on his head at the memory of an infuriating fact.

Your father and your husband never got along. — Only the gods knew the insatiable desire of each one to want to kill each other. — Two men. Two dragons who defended their family with fire and blood, had so many identical physical and mental characteristics and also shared the reciprocal hatred.

Your father always made it clear how much he disagreed with, and hated, your husband in the letters he sent your, but a part of his heart admired your passion for the one-eyed man. — And it was impossible to deny that you and Aemond were, in fact, a copy of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

A heavy sigh deliberately escapes your lips and your head decides to turn towards the owner of that voice. — The only voice that could reassure you at that moment and make you feel lighter and less pressured and you needed support and, especially, your lover.

As you turn around, your eyes clash with the image of the oldest sitting in a leather chair, pigmented in pure black and reddish tones, watching all your steps and features that you make. — Every simple movement or even a simple swing of your hair, was perceived by Aemond.

"Come here, my love." — It was technically impossible to deny that request. Those simple words fell sweetly from Aemond's thin lips, and ended up conquering you and comforting your anxious heart. — With a reassuring smile that came to your lips quickly, your steps made their way to the chair where your dear lover was sitting.

Your dress, made of fabric blessed by the gods and dragons and beautifully crafted in shades of black and red, paying homage to your home, swept the floor along with your steps. — That dress showed and defined your beautiful curves. — Any of the seven kingdoms would say, in all honesty and honor, that you were a copy, designed by the gods, true to your mother.

And Aemond looked to the heavens and thanked all the good gods for having you.

As you approached, a sincere smile with a touch of understanding appeared on the older's lips and he reached out to grab your hand. — A gesture of pure affection and love. — Aemond's rough fingers stroked the palm of your hand, a few circular movements but slowly. Aemond's hand, which tends to be cold most of the time, was warm but still made you shiver.

"Everything is going to be perfectly fine, my wife." — Aemond reassured you, looking into your eyes. The eldest's one good eye admired you, and tried to pass a pleasant image. — "You know very well that you have my word."

Interrupting the simple but comforting finger caress, Aemond clasps your hand in his and holds it tightly, showing support for you. Even with all the friction, differences and threats between your family and Aemond, he never failed to support and protect you. — You belong together. Two dragons and only one soul, you two defined yourself with those words.

You delivered a smile that meant all your passion and admiration for Aemond, and he was able to understand that quickly. That damn man knew you like no one else.

The huge doors of pure wood along with some stone repairs are opened scaring you and taking your focus away from Aemond, and the same happens to him but the older man's hand still remains holding yours. — Soon, one of the guards, who escorted the door, enters.

"Majesties, excuse me." — The guard, whose name you didn't know, refers to your and Aemond's presence. He was young looking and a little nervous, maybe it was one of his first days as a guard. — "The presence, majestic and of high grace, of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon already awaits the two of you"

Aemond did not fail to notice and feel the strength you exerted by squeezing his hand. It seemed that nervousness had attacked your entire body in a brutal and deadly way. — Your voice had disappeared, as if you had lost your way of speaking at that moment, and your husband noticed it immediately.

"Allow them to enter here, now." — The elder Targaryen commanded in a loud voice, causing the young guard to stiffen his stance and quickly nod to obey the order.

The huge and strong doors of pure wood, which blocked the image of the corridor, are opened again and soon your eyes can see some strands white, like snow, and very familiar. — At the exact moment, you can have a broad view of your mother next to your father.

Your heart was racing, it felt like it would burst out of your mouth at any moment and not to mention your eyes were teary and ready to shed the tears that were threatening to fall freely. It had been so long, so many moons and so many suns, without admiring and talking to your parents.

The first steps were Rhaenyra's and in your direction, she wanted to ignore her unfortunate brother's existence. The future queen hated that dragon ever since the event that caused his eye to be missing, and if Rhaenyra could; she would never leave you in that man's hands again. — But she knew she couldn't fight your feelings and the sacred seal of Targaryen marriage.

Keeping her posture and, knowing that she couldn't disrespect her brother and even in front of him, Rhaenyra faced him with respect and nodded to the youngest.

"My dear daughter and my dear…" — A not-so-long, tight sigh escaped Rhaenyra of its own accord. — "Brother."

Aemond did not show such a surprised or grateful expression or reaction with the presence of his sister, who has a feeling of reciprocal hatred and anger. The seriousness remained on Aemond's face, until he decided to watch his uncle's footsteps.

The annoying, unhappy sound of Daemon's well-crafted, presumably leather, shoes drifted past Aemond's ears. As if each simple, slow step was a deathly crack in the one-eyed head. — Aemond hated even Daemon's gait. — There wasn't one thing Aemond didn't hate about his uncle, besides his daughter; of course.

Gently and slowly taking your hand away from Aemond's, you approach your mother and don't miss the opportunity to hug her. Feeling your mother's comforting and warm affection again is a blessing to you and warms your heart. It was, in fact, an eternity since you felt that.

"I missed you so much, my sweet child." — She whispered in your ear, you could feel the affectionate smile and very typical of your mother. — "And you look so beautiful."

"I missed you too, mom." — After you reciprocated your mother, you slowly pulled away from the warm embrace that held the two of you together and finally got the chance to meet your father's eyes. Eyes identical to yours that, in one of your youthful memories; Rhaenyra said you destined the most beautiful eyes she could look up to in all the seven kingdoms, your father's.

Daemon ignored the heavy, deadly glare of the younger man who sat a few feet away from him. The rebel prince didn't care, not even a little, about that one-eyed drama. — He just wanted to have the opportunity and moment to meet again, correctly and as a father, with his beloved daughter And not even her husband could stop it.

"issa tala." (My Daughter.) — The tone of Daemon's voice took a little hitch, leaving her weak as if he were broken or even his voice totally incapable of uttering a miserable word. — But that wasn't it. Your father was thrilled to see you after so many years. — "issa dōna tala" (My sweet daughter.)

Even with his low, wistful tone, Daemon didn't lose his poise but he couldn't hide his genuine, compassionate smile when given the chance to hold your delicate hand. — Your hand that was in a reddish tone because of the countless times you rubbed and squeezed because of nervousness. — Your father understood that and didn't want to question it.

Holding your hand, Daemon's thumb caressed your fingers and analyzed some rings, pure silver, that remained lying there and, he couldn't help but analyze his engagement ring and be impressed with his nephew's taste. — The blood color stone, the color of pure red and the color of the Targaryens, of dragons; a ruby was between your finger.

"At least he knows how to put incompetence aside when it comes to choosing a ring." — A low and brief laugh came out of your mouth when he had the privilege of listening to that mocking whisper of your father. But, something catches the attention of Aemond, who was still not very happy with his uncle's arrival.

"I hope the trip was pleasant for you, uncle. From what I understand, the tide was calm, wasn't it?" — It was impossible not to recognize the teasing and sarcasm in the words that were uttered from Aemond's mouth, and he didn't even try to hide it. The weather could get worse but that was exactly what the one-eyed man wanted.

You turned your head towards your lover, wanting to question and scold, just by looking at that attitude, but again, it was impossible but you didn't stop watching him with narrowed eyes. — Your husband's single eye met yours but it was only a fleeting moment.

"I must feel honored and privileged to have conceived your concern for me, nephew." — Daemon returned in the same tone of voice. — "But i don't deny that i'd rather stay on the ship than here."

Remaining facing Aemond, you had a full view of Rhaenyra doing the same action you had previously performed on the one-eyed. — It looked like you two were in the middle of a children's discussion, that was an unfortunate and unpleasant moment to witness and participate; and besides being extremely tiring.

"I make a point of calling that ship for you." — Aemond retaliated with a thin and ridiculous smile.

"ao jurnegon raqagon riñar." (You look like children.) — For the first time that day, you had raised your voice but not in an aggressive or grotesque tone, but in pure reproach. Either you would get the attention of the two men or Rhaenyra would. — You decided to move away from your parents and return to your starting place, next to Aemond but this time, not so close to him.

Silence settled in that dark and cold room, with a tense atmosphere. — Better that than a childish argument and that could leave for something worse. — The Targaryen without one eye turned towards you with an expression, perhaps, regretful but he didn't dare to say anything at that moment.

"Glad to see you, my daughter." — Rhaenyra decided to end that silence but as if she was saying goodbye, and she kept smiling at you and continued to admire your eyes. — "Well, i'm glad to see you too, my brother." — She didn't leave Aemond's eye but kept her expression serious.

"It's good to have them back, Mom." — You returned a smile grateful for the return of your parents and praying to the good gods that your father and your husband kept their posture and did not argue anymore.

Aemond just let out his typical and common "Hm" and didn't show such a reaction or something strange, or a provocation. — You thanked him mentally for that and soon approached him again. Your act caught the attention of the king's youngest son and he missed no opportunity to join his hand with your, as he had done before Rhaenyra's arrival.

Daemon's eyes didn't want to believe what was happening in front of them, something he would never admit in his life. — It seemed that his nephew wanted to provoke him again, to make another argument happen and maybe worse. — But also for the first time in all times and moons, Aemond did not do it to provoke or defy his uncle. He did it for his beloved, for the way he shares his love and admiration for her.

And for the fact that you could be upset with him, Aemond opted for the way to apologize with the touch. A touch that seemed simple but had immense meaning.

Of course, Aemond didn't want to feel threatened in front of a person he despises so much, a person he characterizes as his rival, but he hated to keep and create these discussions in front of you. A feeling, considered rare for one who knew only the dreaded prince by sight, of regret settled over Aemond.

Aemond's thumb passed slowly over the ring, which he had chosen, and a sense of pride and passion surged through his chest.

"I hope that the days that remain here are pleasant and possible for you." — The surprising speech of the one-eyed prince was exclaimed and listened to with great attention. The boy's one good eye landed on your hand, and he again stroked the area. — "syt ao tolī, Daemon." (For you too, Daemon.)

After the last words, Aemond began to stare deeply at Daemon. Without an expression of sarcasm, or even anger, but that didn't mean that anything good had actually come out of the young man's mouth.

"and nyke hopi ao morghūljagon." (And i hope you die.) — He answered unwillingly. Rhaenyra, again, faced her husband with no desire to participate once more in a half-baked and totally childish argument. She was already completely exhausted and Daemon sighed heavily. — "We appreciate it."

the good in me

♡ pairing: aemond x reader ♡ rating : 13+ ♡ word count : 1.5k   ♡ warnings : swearing, being a dick to someone to show that you love them, lowkey not letting someone out of an arranged marriage  ♡ summary : If you were any other woman, not the girl who had been betrothed to him since before you were born, you might have found him handsome. But you knew better than that. Behind that perfect face and silky hair was a being so evil, the devil would run away in fear.   ♡ an : happy new year!! i owe everyone a PWF update and it is coming soon, but until then - here is a cute fic <3

“Can you please pretend to look happy?”

You turned your head away from the crowd of people surrounding the gilded coach you were currently caged inside and looked back at Prince Aemond. No, your fiancé, Aemond. He sat across from you, still donning his formal military wear, complete with every badge of honor imaginable. If you were any other woman, not the girl who had been betrothed to him since before you were born, you might have found him handsome. But you knew better. Behind that perfect face and silky hair was a being so evil, the devil would run away in fear.

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Adoration

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem. Reader

Summary : You and Aemond have gotten married, and are off for your wedding night. How will it go for you both?

Themes : Soft | Slow burn | Smut

Warnings : Aegon trying to be a loathsome cad | Height difference | Kissing | Foreplay | Oral (f. receiving)| Dirty talk | First time |  Penetrative sex |

Word count : 5.4k  words

Minors DNI | 18+

Translation: 

Kēlītsos - Kitten

This is the final one-shot of three separate fanfics, this time featuring Aemond. I’ve changed several things, and I hope you all enjoy it. 

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

All eyes were on you and your husband, some staring so intently you could feel holes being burnt into your back.

The prince, on the other hand, seemed to pay the gawking no mind. He kept one arm firmly around your waist, holding you as close to him as possible as the two of you made your way around the floor, your right hand snug in his left. And so small, compared to his. The prince was so tall, towering over you, your head not even reaching his chin. He had barely uttered a sentence the entire time, save for the vows he said in front of the High Septon.

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matey. I have this cute soft idea if you're interested in writing it ofc. basically fem reader where she's a lady of noble blood and knows aemond since they were kids. but there was always this awkwardness around them which slowly turned into disgust (lol bish why you lying, why you always lying) one day she's with helaena or lady friends and they ask her who she would marry from court if she had to choose which she replies with "I would marry aemond in a heartbeat" forgetting that she said that out loud with aemond overhearing it somewhere hiding behind a pillar or something lol. and the next day she keeps questioning herself why aemond is suddenly wearing his nice clothes, helping her with something? and then when she wants to bid him goodnight he replies with a sneaky "I would marry you too in a heartbeat" which ends with her all flustered or something lol. idk what this is honestly, It just popped into my head.

Hi dearest! I'd love to write a lil something based on this lovely prompt!

Aemond x reader | fluff | Aemond being as discreet as a car backfiring

Laughter surrounded you, the ladies you sat with in the fragrant gardens tittering to each other, blushes upon their dimpled cheeks. You set aside your book of Old Valyrian poems and leaned in conspiratorially. "Okay Rosaline, your turn. Who would you marry?"

Rosaline, a lovely curvy girl around your age with russet curls and a freckled face, laughed harder. "I cannot say, lady Y/N. Though lord Jason Lannister is rather easy on the eyes is he not?"

You shrugged. "If you go for that sort of pomposity, I suppose."

"Well, who do you fancy, Y/N?" Rosaline asked, huffing at you with slightly narrowed brown eyes.

You hesitated, all eyes now upon you, growing more curious with each second of silence.

"Well? Now you have to tell us!" A girl with straight brown hair piped up, her doe eyes mischievous. "You were so eager to hear our own secrets!"

"I...I've always. Well. Prince Aemond if you must know." Your fingers clasped together upon your lap, so tight your knuckles went white.

There was a beat of stunned silence, then the girls lapsed into another fit of giggles.

"Prince Aemond?" Rosaline choked.

"Haven't you been friends since you were children?"

"I thought they went for their siblings?"

"He doesn't have an eye, Y/N! How could you possibly think he's a suitable match?"

"Excuse me." You said rather flatly. "When any of you ride the largest dragon in Westeros, then you can talk."

"He is rather easy on the eyes." A Tyrell girl spoke in a thin voice. "Though I've heard rumors circulating he is rather callous and keeps to himself."

"He's not callous." You defended. "Though we do have our disagreements."

"Oh yes!" Rosaline tittered again. You fought the urge to smack her. "I've heard you two have been at odds the past few weeks. Lover's quarrel?"

"I-we are not-where did you hear...you know what it doesn't matter." You rose abruptly, forgetting the book beside you on the bench. "Aemond alone is worth a hundred times more than all of you put together. I would marry him in a heartbeat."

"What's under that horrid eyepatch he wears?" A sneering Lannister lady sniggered.

"Something far more interesting than what's under your garish skirts!" You shot back, a shocked silence following your impetuous outburst.

You cast one last scorching look over the gathered women, before gathering your dress and taking your leave of them, face burning.

You retired to your chambers, skipping the dinner feast, not wishing to see those girls again that day. You were still fuming. It was true, you and Aemond had not spoken since a heated argument a few weeks prior. However, this was not the first time you two had been at odds. Nor would it be the last, you reckoned.

A soft knock at your door roused you from your contemplation beside the fire. You rose from the sofa, crossing the carpeted floor and swinging the heavy oak door open to reveal Aemond standing in the doorway.

"Oh!" You said, too surprised to come up with anything witty.

"Walk with me?" Aemond held out his arm for you to take. His hair looked like it was freshly brushed, shining silver in the torchlight as he guided you down the hall into a deserted courtyard.

The evening air was alive with birdsong, the sky above a shock of orange and red as the sun made its western descent.

"I came to apologize." Aemond said as the two of you meandered out into the gardens you had spent your afternoon in.

"Apologize? You? Be still my heart!"

"Don't make me regret it, Y/N." The prince groaned, releasing your arm and turning to you, the vista of the city's red roofs and the sparkling sea framed behind him. "I behaved...rather appallingly and I regret not coming to you sooner."

"You were a bit of an ass, tis true." You smiled impishly at the way he fought down a grimace at your words.

"As if you were any better."

"I was right." You folded your arms across your chest.

Aemond clasped his hands tightly behind his straight back. "It is a matter of opinion whether Dorne is more progressive than us."

"No, Aemond. I'm afraid that's a fact."

Aemond breathed hard through his nostrils; you watched with interest as he collected himself. "I came to apologize not to argue further."

He opened his jacket and pulled out a small box from a pocket within. "And to give you this as a sign of my...remorse."

You squinted at him. "Did your mother tell you to say that?"

Aemond didn't answer, his brow raising at you as he gestured for you to take his gift. You lifted the box from his palm, undoing the string and opening it. A silver brooch lay within, bearing the insignia of your house. Small finely crafted letters spelled out your house words below the image.

"It's quite lovely, my prince." Your face softened as you took it out and fasted the piece to your bodice. "I will wear it with pride. Thank you."

Aemond graced you with a genuine smile, his eye lingering upon the pin now secured above your heart. You tracked his gaze with interest as it roved across your curves before snapping guiltily back up to your face.

"See something you like?" You teased, flashing a grin at him.

Aemond didn't answer, though he held your gaze as you stepped closer, noting how the breath caught in his throat at your sudden proximity. Your brow furrowed as you looked at the odd expression on his face, nothing you had seen there before.

"Are you well, Aemond?"

"No." Aemond shook his head. "Let us continue our walk."

The two of you walked side by side around the gardens, the deepening twilight enveloping you, stars unveiling one by one in the dusky sky. Your knuckles brushed against Aemond's, you extended your pinky, hooking it around his. Heat rose to your face as Aemond's fingers slid to tangle with your own, your hands intertwined as you strode along the path back to the Keep.

He did not break his grip on you, even as you stood again before your chamber door.

"This is where I bid you a good night, Y/N." He spoke softly.

"Yes, it is." You sounded breathless, not pulling away as he turned to face you directly, leaning down as he brushed his lips to the back of your hand.

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Aemond?"

"I would also marry you in a heartbeat."

You stopped breathing. He had overheard the whole exchange in the gardens. Blood rushed in your ears as, wide eyed, you watched as Aemond lingered long enough to take in your expression before he turned on a booted heel and strode down the hallway.

Gathering your wits once more, you shouted after him just as he reached the corner. "Aemond!" He halted, looking back at you with ill-concealed amusement. "Get back here or so help me..." You pointed to the ground in front of your door.

"We can continue this discussion tomorr-"

"No. No, you don't get to say something like that and just walk away." You hissed, leaving your chamber open as you stomped down the hallway to where he stood waiting, his lilac eye sparkling with delight.

Aemond took your forearms in his hands when you reached for him, pulling you in so quickly you stumbled, falling against his chest. "You overheard me today?" You asked, looking up at his angular face as his fingers traced your jaw.

"Mmm. I did indeed. You're quite the sight in your anger." His eye glittered. "Even more enchanting when it's on my behalf."

"They were wrong to say such things." You breathed, your voice only a whisper as the distance between your faces slowly closed.

"I rest easy knowing I have a champion in you, to defend my honor." Aemond chuckled, his breath tickling your lips.

You weren't sure who moved first, or if it was simultaneous, but you felt the press of his mouth against yours, your eyes fluttering closed as your hands buried themselves in his silken hair.

He moved against you, backing you up until you hit the wall, a gasp at the impact opening your mouth to him as he began exploring you with his slick tongue. The scent of him surrounding you, the feel of him caging you in, pressing his knee between your thighs, drew a soft whimper from your lips that he drank down with relish.

"Do that again." He murmured, tugging your hair until you exposed your throat to his touches.

"Make me." You smirked at the arched ceiling, quickly losing what little composure you had won back as he took your challenge to heart.

Aemond made you emit many more sounds of pleasure throughout the course of that night. Stifling your cries with his large hand at one point so as to not alert any nearby guard patrols. With the promises of a lifetime together to come he claimed you as his own, swearing in return to be yours until his dying day.

Part 2 now up!

Oooh, yes yes I know exactly what I want to write for these lovely Anon prompts! (edit: oh yeah, Aemond popped off in this one...I was expecting to be writing harsh words, and maybe threatening...but nah he uh kills them)

Aemond x wife!reader | crude language | protective Aemond | violence

Moonlight washed over your face, the cool night breeze rustling your skirts as you snuck outside the Keep walls. You knew he waited for you, just below the descending stone steps in front of you, awash in silver light.

You saw a figure in a cloak, hooded and tall, lithe of frame, waiting for you, his hand on the banister as he turned toward the sound of your hurrying feet. "Y/N." Your name on his tongue like honey as your husband extended his arm for you to take. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost leaving our rooms."

"Aemond." You chided. "That's only happened once, and I had Aegon as my escort, we were both thoroughly in our cups."

"Mmhmm." He guided you swiftly down the remaining stairs, out into the open streets of King's Landing, the Red Keep a looming fortress at your backs. "You were undetected?"

"I had to navigate around some guardsmen, but yes. No one knows we're sneaking off to the fire festival." You looked up at him from under your own hood. "Why are we sneaking, Aemond?"

"Anonymity is half the fun." He mused, squeezing your arm briefly. "I'd rather enjoy the festivities with my lady without peasantry taking notice of our presence."

Firelight up ahead caught your eye. As the two of you strode forward the quiet darkened streets gave way to raucous revelry. Small folk laughing and cheering as fire dancers whirled and spat flame. There was an open pavilion with a makeshift stage whereon actors flounced about in comedic costumes. Bussers carrying platters of drink and food navigated their way through the chattering crowd. The smell of baked goods and sweet delicacies teased your nostrils as you inhaled, sharing a smile with Aemond.

Aemond did not release his grip on you the whole time you indulged in as many festival activities as you could. At all times he had a hand gripping your cloak fabric or tangled his fingers with your own. More often than not, he would watch your face rather than the performances of the acrobats and fire eaters. You would be gazing at them open mouthed in wonder at their skill, then your eyes would flick to Aemond's face, and he would be studying your expression with a soft half-smile upon his curved lips, the firelight reflecting in his lilac eye.

As the night wore on, your feet began to ache despite the support of your leather boots. You were loath to leave, even as the crowd began thinning and the booths of food slowly turned in their wares.

A group of men, huddled together near a mossy stone wall, caught your attention as one of them said Aemond's name in a gruff voice. His fellows erupted into laughter at whatever he'd just said about your husband, and your fists curled into instinctive fists. Aemond's hand at your waist indicated he heard it too, and you glanced up to see he was staring at ground, his lips firmly pressed together as he concentrated on overhearing their conversation.

You both didn't have to strain your ears overmuch as the next words were clear to be heard, spoken in a deep drunken drawl. "He's lucky to have landed a lady like her."

His friends grunted in agreement.

Another man spoke up in a reedy voice. "Landed?" He scoffed. "Bedded is more like. What I wouldn't give to get a piece of her."

You noticed Aemond had stilled so completely, he had stopped breathing as his narrowed eye flitted to the huddle of men.

"Man like that Aemond Targaryen. Missing an eye and all that and still gets between the legs of something like her." A rail-thin man took a derisive swig from a bottle. "I would give her a good fucking and she'd be able to stomach my face."

"Get bent Tarful." His companion growled, pushing the thin man on the shoulder. "I'd love me the chance to put a bastard in her belly though."

"Aemond no!" You hissed, grabbing onto your husband's cloak but to no avail. The fabric was wrenched from your grip as Aemond strode forward, throwing back the hood of his cloak as he unsheathed his sword.

There were three of them, inebriated as they were, and only one of Aemond. You crouched to the ground, feeling around for a loose stone, anything that could be used as a weapon should the need arise.

The men didn't take note of Aemond's presence until he was almost upon them.

"What the shit?"

"Who the-"

"Oh, hells take me."

Horrified recognition slid across their faces as they took in the sight of Aemond's livid face. The prince stood rigid, a hand behind his taut back as he pressed the point of his sword into the eldest man's throat.

"You dare speak of my wife in such a manner." Aemond could barely speak for the overwhelming rage constricting his throat. "You dare have such vile thoughts about her."

His long silver hair shone under the moon, cascading down his back and over his shoulders, his violet eye aflame, clearly indicating who he was even to the drunken men before him.

The reedy man reached for a small dagger at his belt, drawing it and stepping toward the enraged prince.

"Foolish." Aemond seethed, barely glancing at him as his sword flashed in a blur of movement.

A spray of blood, the man crumpled. You gasped, looking away as you covered your mouth.

"Y/N. Leave." Aemond commanded, his tone still hard and imperious. "Head back to the Keep. I will catch up with you."

"Aemond..."

"Go!"

You scrambled upright, running across the deserted courtyard, only glancing back once to see the remaining two men cowering before the Targaryen prince, his long sword still extended, now dripping red.

Few others were still in the streets, and they paid you no mind as you hurried away, back up the hill to the Red Keep. Your stomach twisted with the memory of those men's violating words, and the sound of that body hitting the cobblestones with dull finality.

Aemond was gentle and kind when he was with you. You almost forgot he had the blood of Old Valyria coursing hot through his veins. His fury scared you as much as it thrilled you. You had never before seen this side of your husband. Now you understood a little better why the Targaryens were so feared and respected, the words of their family running through your mind.

Fire and blood.

The Silver Dragon Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, Lady of Runestone, was not born of love. Nor passion. Nor even a sense of duty. She was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

But even a child born of such darkness can find her way to the light.

With her mother dead, and father flown across the Narrow Sea with a new wife, the girl is taken in by her Aunt, the Queen Alicent Hightower, to be raised among the little family she has left. There, she finds her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen.

As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. The two spend long nights in the palace library together, studying the histories of both Old Valyria and the First Men, seeking to understand who they are and where they fit in the world.

But finding that place proves more difficult than in the fairy tales they read. The seeds of disaster were laid long before they were born, and as tensions in the family rise, it seems as though their places may begin to diverge.

Will they let themselves be pulled apart as the dragons dance? 

Warnings: Mentions of rape

Chapter 1: The Bronze Bitch's Daughter

Prince Daemon Targaryen has grown tired of his Lady wife, the “Bronze Bitch” Rhea Royce. But he is not so easily rid of her. She survives not only his brutal attack, but his cruel violation of her. Though she remains broken and weak, she endures just long enough to deliver a child: a girl of silver hair and steely eyes.

Chapter 2: The Bench

On Arianwyn’s thirteenth nameday, a grand reception is held in her honor. Though most guests are not in attendance for the Lady of Runestone, but rather the Princess Rhaenyra, who is mere weeks away from giving birth. But Arianwyn does not care, for Aemond is there. And he has a present for her.

Chapter 3: The Book

Though Arianwyn wants nothing more than to devour the book Aemond gifted her, she finds herself tear her mind from Aegon’s taunting words. But as she recalls a difficult conversation with her cousin and lady’s maid from the night before, she decides that perhaps she does not want to be married – ever.

Chapter 4: Rune of Endurance

Over the next few months, the young scholars begin to make their own translations of the Runes of the First Men. However, the lives of a Prince and a Lady are not all leisure. After a harrowing encounter in the Dragonpit, Aemond needs Arianwyn to comfort him.

Chapter 5: The Funeral

As the Targaryen and Velaryon households gather on Driftmark to mourn the late Lady Laena, Arianwyn is anxious about meeting not only her half-sisters, but her father for the very first time.

Chapter 6: Cold Fire

Having been worse than ignored by Daemon at the funeral, Arianwyn finally comes face to face with her father.

Chapter 7: The Beach

After overhearing a conversation between Prince Daemon and Corlys Velaryon at dinner, Aemond recruits Arianwyn to help him achieve a lifelong dream.

Chapter 8: The Tunnel

On their way back from the beach, Aemond and Arianwyn are confronted by their four furious cousins.

Chapter 9: The Decisions of Fathers

Aemond is permanently maimed, Arianwyn wounded. As their family quarrels over how to deal with the aftermath of the fight, all they can do is cling to each other.

Chapter 10: Prayer

Faced with the possibility of their separation, Aemond joins Arianwyn in prayer.

Chapter 11: Dearest Friend

As Arianwyn adapts to her new surroundings, and Aemond heals from his wound, the pair take comfort in the letters they exchange.

Chapter 12: The Girl in the Tower

With the knowledge that she will not soon be released from her father’s control, Arianwyn finds what comforts she can on Dragonstone, and receives a gift from Aemond.

Chapter 13: The Sapphire

Aemond struggles to adjust to Arianwyn’s absence. But on his fifteenth nameday, Ser Gerold Royce arrives with a bronze-wrapped present.

Chapter 14: The Garden

For the first time in the six years she’s been on Dragonstone, Princess Rhaenyra asks for Arianwyn to join her for a walk in the gardens.

Chapter 15: A Holy Sight

At long last, Arianwyn returns to King’s Landing.

Chapter 16: The Legend of Gahaelon and Aeremys

After being reunited after so long, Aemond has one request of Arianwyn: to read him a story.

Chapter 17: Families

Arianwyn is joyfully greeted by Queen Alicent, Princess Helaena, and her young children. But the happy reunion is soon ended as she is called to attend dinner with her Daemon, Rhaenyra, and their children.

Chapter 18: The Petition

When Vaemond Velaryon petitions the Crown to grant him succession of Driftmark, Arianwyn is faced with her worst fears.

Chapter 19: Final Tribute

Arianwyn delays her escape to attend the King’s family dinner to say goodbye to Aemond. But emotions run high, and a final toast may jeopardize her plans.

Chapter 20: The Library

Daemon confronts his daughter.

Chapter 21: Beneath the Weirwood Tree

Arianwyn meets Aemond in the Godswood.

Chapter 22: The Bedding

To prevent Daemon from contesting their marriage, Aemond and Arianwyn proceed with the Bedding Ceremony.

Chapter 23: The Shears

The following morning, Aemond and Arianwyn tell the Queen of what happened. But they soon realize an important figure is missing.

Chapter 24: The Trial of Brynna Taler

Aemond, Arianwyn, and Queen Alicent race to find Brynna. Larys Strong informs them that she has been taken to the Throne Room by none other than Daemon, who claims that it was Brynna herself that attacked him the night before. Not only that, but he also accuses Aemond of forcing Arianwyn to marry him, and of raping her so that the marriage could not be dissolved.

Chapter 25: The Breakfast

With Brynna safe and Daemon on his way back to Dragonstone with the rest of the Blacks, Aemond and Arianwyn enjoy some time alone. However, they are quickly interrupted by the Queen, her children, and her grandchildren joining them for a family breakfast.

Chapter 26: The Women

Arianwyn, Helaena, Alicent, and Brynna sip tea (and wine) and enjoy a moment of relaxation as the dressmakers and craftspeople of King’s Landing present them with their wares.

Chapter 27: Pillow Talk

Together in bed, Aemond & Aria exchange new vows and old secrets.

Chapter 28: Vhagar & Emrys

Six years after the beach on Driftmark, the Queen of All Dragons and Emrys, the young black dragon called Balerion, Second of His Name, by the smallfolk of King’s Landing, finally meet.

Chapter 29: The Bath

Aemond and Arianwyn relax with a shared bath after their dragonflight.

Chapter 30: Storytime

Arianwyn is summoned to the Queen's chambers to fulfill a promise she made to Prince Jaehaerys.

I Would Die For You In Secret [Part 2]

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x targaryen!reader, various characters x reader (platonic)

summary: you have avoided Jace ever since the night you had dinner with your family, but you cannot avoid him forever. if you would not go to him and Jace would not go to you, your family would have to fix things in their own way (5.4k)

warning: angst with a happy ending, incest (again reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter and Jace’s sister), self loathing, miscommunication. 

notes: I added some tags for other pairing besides Aemond and the reader because the reader interacts with different characters other than Aemond, but the only romantic pairing is between Aemond and the reader.

[Part 1]

Keep reading

I Would Die For You In Secret

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x targaryen!reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x targaryen!reader (platonic)

summary: when your brother asks you who in the castle has earned your affections there is no good way to tell him it is the person he hates most (1.8k)

warnings: angst, sibling tension (the reader and Jace), incest, the reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter and Jace’s sibling, slight AU 

notes: I put Jace as a pairing in this because they do interact quite a bit in this, though it is strictly platonic. if I make a part two to this don’t be surprised.

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See No Evil, Hear No Evil {1}

Aemond One-Eye x deaf!fem!reader Summary: Love blossoms when you get to know the sweet man and not the cocky Prince. Warnings: fluff, Aegon being a predator, more fluff. I know lip reading is not easy or infallible but for this the reader is able to read lips almost perfectly. WC: 4.9k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three ||

Couples were dancing around the space that had earlier been occupied by long tables for the feast, their joyous smiles twisting your gut with jealousy. No one would ask you to join them, not when you could not hear the very music that set the pace.

Returning your attention to the table that you were seated at, you watched the men and women intently. Some glared at you when they caught your eyes on them, waving their hand as if it could blow you out of sight and out of mind. Moving on to the next, you found a single blue eye staring back. 

Prince Aemond. He was another social outcast, though his personality was as much to blame as the jagged scar that ran through his left eye. There was always a taunting smirk on his lips and a cold gleam in his eye, it sent the courtiers vying for the hand of anyone but him. Not even the power hungry, attention seekers dared to subject themselves to his viperous nature. 

His brother captured his attention and whatever spell had kept you enthralled with his stare broke. The two Targaryen princes leaned together and Aemond’s lips pursed as Aegon spoke with nervous mannerisms that warned you they would have been whispering, but you could read his lips. 

“There is something desirable about a silent woman,” Aegon said as his eyes flickered your way. “But I would do anything to make her scream.”

Aemond’s lips pulled back with a sneer before he answered, “I can only imagine the depravities that fill your mind.”

“I do not think you have the creativity needed to imagine them, little brother.”

“Thank the gods for that blessing,” Aemond said as he leant back. “She is too intelligent for you anyhow.”

“Intelligent?” Aegon rocked back with a laugh that drew the others’ attention to him. “She cannot hear and does not speak.”

Aemond turned his eye back to you. “Then she must see a great deal, for there is definitely intelligence behind those eyes.”

“Then I would face her down when I bed her.”

You looked away and wrapped your fingers around the silver goblet so they were occupied and the trembling was hopefully unnoticeable. You had expected no better of the eldest son of the King, he was known to stick his fingers in many pies - though sometimes he didn’t stop at his fingers. 

You might have been deaf to the tales the maids spoke of as they prepared you but you saw everything from the tears in their eyes to the bruises barely hidden by their uniforms. Just the thought of Aegon even noticing you had a knot twisting in your stomach.

Pushing the velvet-lined chair back, you rose from the table and nodded silently to the sickly Viserys. He gave a weak dismal wave of his hand that rested on the arm of his chair and you pressed your fingertips to your chin in return, thanking him for permitting your leave. After flattening the layers of skirts that had creased beneath the table, you laced your fingers together and ignored the two stares that watched your retreat from the dining room. 

The feeling of spiders dancing down your spine didn’t ease, even after you had snaked your way through Red Keep to the atheneum. There would normally be a maester wandering the quiet halls full of books, organising the rows into alphabetical fashion and finding requested pieces for others, but with the late hour it was empty. 

The scent of dust and beeswax greeted you as you closed the door behind you. Someone had been waxing a leather bound book cover and the yellow bar had been left beside a half shiny cover as if they might return at any moment. Walking over to the small table, you opened the cover to see what the book was and found it to be a personal journal of Aegon the Conqueror. 

Warmth touched your nape and your lips parted with a sharp intake of breath as you spun around, your legs tangling in the skirts and your hip hitting the table with a sharp jolt of pain. Aemond stepped back with a smirk, his hands raised in innocence that was betrayed by the amusement in his eye.

“Apologies,” he said. “I did not mean to startle you.”

You rubbed your palm over the bruise that would no doubt be forming and narrowed your eyes at the blatant lie. “I shall rephrase, I did not mean for you to get hurt.” Aemond’s smirk grew until his lips parted and his shoulders bounced with a laugh. “I know you can understand me.”

He reached for you and you froze at the closeness, and his scent that washed over you as his hair nearly brushed your cheek. He smelt of the woods you had run through as a child, pine and earth, fresh and rich. Then there was the fruity yet tarty hint of wine that followed as he exhaled slowly, as if he had taken an equally long inhale of the floral perfume you wore.

As quick as he had come for you, he was gone, Aegon’s journal with him and you let out a shuddering breath as you realised you were not the object he had been reaching for. He seemed to take pleasure in the confusion on your face as he smirked once again and tucked the novel under his arm with a mocking bow. 

His eye lingered on your hip as he straightened. “Take care, milady.”

You could not breathe again until the door sealed shut but you no longer felt the calm that you usually found in the athenium, the books no longer welcoming as the tall shelves towered above you with their dark shadows. Angered by the effect Aemond had in your place of sanctuary, you swiped a book from the closest shelf and made for your chambers and the thick lock bolt that you could hide behind. 

The courtyard was busier than usual as you took a seat on a stool against the Keep walls. The airy space had become a favourite place to sit since you were not allowed to leave the high red brick walls without an escort. Since this was not your House territory you had to rely upon King Viserys’ white cloaked guards but you did not wish to make a fuss so you had not utilised the soldiers. 

The sky was blue and the clouds that had blanketed the city at dawn were quickly evaporated by the heat and it enticed many others to step into the sunshine. Pulling your small bound notebook from the pocket in your skirt, you unwrapped a stick of coal and looked around for something to catch your eyes. The twin guards, Arryk and Erryk, were huddled close as they entered through the gates and your hand moved across the page.

E: She paid another maid to leave last night in the cover of darkness. That is the fourth this month. A: What did you expect? Bastards don’t belong in the Keep. E: Someone needs to stop him. A: Careful, brother, what you speak could be considered treason.

They disappeared deeper into the Keep and you read over the dialogue trying to understand what they had been talking of when a shadow passed over the page. You slammed the book closed and looked up, momentarily blinded by the bright sun reflecting off the head of long silvery white hair. 

The stick of coal had fallen to the dirt in your rush to hide the page and Aemond crouched before you to gather it, holding it out in his palm. Your eyes lingered on the calluses from hours of training and the thin scars that littered the skin that peeked out from under his tunic. 

You had not seen him since the incident in the atheneum and you had forgotten the connection that had seemed palpable in the days gone by but now you were once again caught by his eye. You had failed to notice the flecks of violet in the pale blue iris when you last saw them but that was in a dimly lit room, in the sun they were almost iridescent.

It wasn’t until he took your hand and unfurled your fingers that you realised how long you had stared, breaking away with embarrassment as he placed the coal into your palm. The hairs on your nape rose under the intensity of the moment and you curled your fingers around the coal gently so as not to crush your writing tool. You slipped the coal back into your pocket and pressed your fingers to your chin.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a small smile. He reached for your face and your breath froze in your lungs as he ran his thumb softly across jaw. “Can’t have a smudge of coal hiding your beauty.”

You were certain you read his lips wrong but the flutter in your chest betrayed your common sense and a smile tugged at your lips. His eye followed the curve of your smile and he had to shake his head to clear his thoughts before rising to his feet. 

“Care to walk with me, milady?”

You could feel eyes on you as the crowd snooped to see why the One Eyed Prince would be talking to you. You had long ago learned to ignore the stares but for some reason that seemed a harder task today. Tucking your notebook away, you accepted his offer with a nod and let him lead the way to the Royal gardens that were usually off limits.

“I must admit, you intrigue me,” Aemond said after stopping beneath the weirwood tree and facing you. “You and your notebook that you carry everywhere.”

You automatically pressed your hand to the reassuring weight and frowned, wondering where this was leading to.

“May I see it?”

Your fingers tightened around it and you shook your head adamantly. A heat flared across your skin at the thought of him reading your notes and looking at the drawings that you attempted. He appeared within the pages far too often for your own liking. 

“As prince, I could demand it of you,” he said as he stepped closer. The wind changed and caught his hair, flicking wayward strands over his shoulder and the scent of lemon verbena shampoo drifted your way along with the purely masculine musk of sweat from training. 

You walked away, needing to clear your senses that he overpowered much like his very presence in the garden. The notebook suddenly seemed like an anchor and each step was heavy as you took a seat on the edge of a long bench in the shade. From the corner of your vision you saw Aemond sit at the other end, the entire length separating him from you. 

Tap, tap, tap. 

Your fingers tingled with the vibrations as they rested atop the bench beside your legs. 

Tap, tap, tap.

You turned to face Aemond and found his smirk growing as he used his fingernail to tap and scratch the wood. 

“You can feel that, can’t you?”

You nodded your head and his smile grew, transforming his face and erasing the harsh lines that were usually shaped with a scowl. You startled with the realisation that you found him handsome and your palms grew warm as you wiped them on your dress that was suddenly too heavy for the spring weather.

Tap, tap, tap.

You were pulled from your thoughts and looked back at the prince, hoping he could not see the effect he had on you but the intensity to his stare made you feel naked, as if every thought you ever had was laid bare for him to read. 

His lips parted with a sharp intake and he leant closer, though he was still far from reach as he mouthed the word, “Beautiful.”

There was something therapeutic in being around the horses and you often found yourself wandering into the stables. The servants and stableboys no longer sent you odd looks as they grew used to your presence most days and you were grateful to be left in solitude as you combed the black and grey haired stallion that had caught your eye. 

You had just placed the comb back on the hook that hung beside the gate when you felt vibrations in the wood beneath your hand. 

Tap, tap, tap.

Stunned, you turned to find Aemond resting against the gate with a lazy smile on his face.

“I hope you aren’t planning on stealing my horse, gorgeous.” 

You rolled your eyes and didn't dignify him with an answer as you reached into your skirt pockets and found the carrot you had stolen from dinner the night before. Aemond’s shadow followed you as he opened the gate and stepped inside the stall, his hand landing gently on your shoulder so you were aware of where he was, as if you hadn’t been keeping track.

“No wonder Storm was slow to gallop,” Aemond said as he faced you from the other side of his horse, his hand petting down the long mane. “You have been spoiling him.”

You kept your palm flat as you Storm’s lips pulled back and he greedily took the carrot. The name suited the horse with his colourings of the turbulent stormy skies and you scratched his ear while he finished his snack. 

“As much as I enjoy hearing my own voice, there must be another way for us to communicate.” Aemond stepped around the front of Storm and you frowned as you no longer felt the urge to back away from him as you had in the past. “Teach me the signs I have seen you do.”

You were shocked by his request even though you knew him to be an intellect and a scholar, the fact that he spent so many mornings training to be a warrior seemed to fill you with the idea that he was more brute than student. Your nursemaid had been the one to help you create the secret language but it had never really expanded past what a child might need to convey. You had relied upon written communication but that was only useful with the highborns who were educated, unfortunately most of the servants were illiterate. 

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the notebook you were never without and tore out a blank page before he could see what secrets the book held. He watched as your handwriting sprawled across the page and you could see his chest bouncing with a laugh before he took it from you.

He slipped the note into the folds of his cloak with an amused smile, not at all offended by the message you had given him. You smell. Bathe first, then I will teach you.

“I shall meet you in the library, milady, after bathing of course.” He bowed at the waist though his eye never left you and you didn’t see the mocking smile he had given you the last time he had made the gesture. The pale blue orb seemed to zero in on the pulse at your neck, as if he could see how rapidly it raced in his intense presence. “I shall see you soon.”

Three Months Later

You had seen neither hide nor hair of Aemond as you strolled the halls of the Keep, the tourney for his brother’s name day was about to begin and you did not wish to enter the highborn box alone. Giving up hope on finding him, you followed the few other ladies who were late and slipped into the back row in the hopes your presence would go unnoticed.

The bench seat kept shifting as ladies rose with their garlands, tossing the favours to the lords who asked in hopes they might win their challenge with the luck. Each time they moved you cursed inwardly and settled your heart that pounded erratically, wishing the entire event be over with. 

You were tracing the embroidered floral design on your skirts when a hand waved in front of your face and you nearly fell back in fright. The only person you knew it wasn’t was Aemond, he knew to touch your shoulder to get your attention so as not to give you a heart attack. Peering up as you clutched your chest, you found Lady Reyne looking apologetic as she pointed to the front where the jousting course was set. 

Aemond sat atop his horse, patiently waiting with a smile as he caught your eyes. A thousand questions ran through your head as you rose from the bench and clutched the favour of woven asters and budding chrysanthemums to your breast. You could feel the eyes of the entire crowd following your steps down to the front of the highborn box and past King Viserys, but there was only one that held you captive. 

“May I ask for your favour, milady?”

You nodded with a smile, grateful that you had taken his advice to make the flower crown. When he said that someone may ask one of you, your head had fallen back with a silent laugh before you shook your head, but he had insisted and you could not deny him. 

Casting the favour out, it twirled down the length of his jousting pole until it reached his hand. His smile was brighter than the sun as he pulled at the reins of his stallion and made his way to the lists. His mother caught your hand with a gentle smile as you passed by and she patted the space beside her in invitation. 

You ringed your fingers nervously as you watched Aemond’s armour shimmer in the sunlight while his horse paced, awaiting the drop of the flag to begin the match. Alicent placed her hand over yours, unclenching them and lacing them with hers as she fretted over her son. You could tell she liked the idea of seeing her son facing a jousting opponent as much as you did. You had seen the heinous injuries one could get in the sport. 

Alicent patted your hand and you tore your eyes away from Aemond to look at her as she said, “He will be fine, dear. Aemond is one of the best.”

You nodded and hoped it looked reassuring before you noticed the flag drop. Aemond kicked his boots in the stirrups and his horse took off, kicking a spray of sand up behind him. You barely breathed as he raced along the fence and levelled out his pole, his opponent doing the same. Time seemed to slow as the poles crossed each other and crashed wood against armour, shattering into splinters. 

The air in your lungs exploded from you as you jumped to your feet and rushed to the rail to see Aemond still atop his horse. His opponent was sprawled across the sand but Aemond paid him no mind as he circled back to the rail where you waited and pulled his helmet from his head before shaking out his long hair that was mussed up. 

“Is your heart still in your chest?” Aemond asked as he looked up at you, amusement teasing a smirk on his lips.

You pointed to yourself and curled your fingers over your face before pointing to him, his lips parting with a laugh that shook his shoulders. 

“Why are you mad at me? I won.”

Waving him off, you noticed the next opponents were arriving to request their favours and he shot them a dirty look as they interrupted you. 

“Meet me in the library.”

You nodded and moved away as two ladies reached the railing, missing the smile Alicent had after watching the interaction. 

The tourney would continue all day so it was no surprise to find the athenium empty when you arrived and took a seat on the plush settee. The stained glass windows cast a colourful shadow across the stone floor and you reached into your pocket for your notebook and coal to capture the image. 

You were just finishing with the shading and smudging the shadows onto the parchment with your fingertip when you felt the air shift around your face. A smile was already pulling on your lips when you looked up to find Aemond dressed once more in his finery and his hair still damp from bathing. The citrus tart of his soap teased your nose and you reached for him as you closed your book. 

He let you pull him onto the cushioned seat beside you and chuckled to himself as you ran your hands over his fitted shirt before he caught your hands. “I am unharmed.”

You narrowed your eyes at him until he released your hands to continue to make their own assessment. When you were satisfied that he was not just trying to placate you, you shuffled closer and slipped under his arm that he opened for you in invitation. 

While waiting for his arrival you had been wondering how you could return the gesture he had made for you in front of the entire city and he could sense your unrest as you shifted in your seat. Unable to look him in the eye, you grabbed your notebook and placed it on his lap.

His fingers traced your jaw and turned you to face him so you could see what he had to say. “Are you sure?”

You nodded before you lost your courage and he carefully opened the bound covering as if it were an invaluable, fragile piece of history. He treated it knowing how you cherished it. 

You did not look to see what pages he perused, some drawings and some snippets of passing conversations, but instead watched his reactions. With each turn of the page you knew what he would find and your nervousness grew. The drawings of Red Keep and the Royal Gardens would soon change and he would see himself through your eyes. 

It had not taken long for him to become your muse, in fact in the last few months it had become an addiction. There was not a day that passed where you didn’t want to capture his likeness, sometimes it was when the sunlight caught his hair or the smile that he reserved just for you. 

His lips parted with surprise and you knew he had reached the moment you had first given in to your desire and drawn him content in the gardens. Your palms turned clammy and your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest as he turned each page until he reached the last and closed it.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as he turned to you and you saw his eye shimmering with unshed tears. Of all the reactions, that was not one that you could have expected. Aemond was always so collected and cool until you had peeled back the layers of his self-protection but this was the last mask to fall away. 

You reached for his cheek, cupping the warm skin as you wiped away the single tear that escaped before he closed his eye and leaned into the touch. 

“Thank you,” he said as he opened his eye again, blinking away the rest of the tears before they could fall. “No one draws my eyes.”

You frowned at the statement and he sighed from the heavy breath of air that brushed over your skin. “The artists who take our portraits do so from my right, this,” he tapped his leather eye patch, “makes them uncomfortable.”

Tears welled in your own eyes as you saw the pain he still felt though the wound had long healed. Though it was compromising, you rose to your knees and straddled his legs, shock flitting across his face before fear seeped in as you reached for the leather patch. 

“It is not pretty, milady.”

You circled your palm over your chest and you thought he would deny your plea for permission as he pursed his lips but then he bowed his head with a nod. 

His eye stared intently at you as you traced your finger over the leather that had been warmed by his body heat. The smooth material was softer than you thought it would be as you eased it from his head and bared his scar for the first time. Your breath rushed through your parted lips as you saw the crude line that had carved through his eyebrow, down his eye and across his cheek. 

He turned away and your heart clenched as he hid himself from you but he had to know, it wasn’t the scar that caused your reaction, you were horrified at how he had been hurt so badly. Cradling his cheeks in your hands, you gently guided him back to you but still he refused eye contact.

There was only one way you could show him how you felt and your stomach fluttered at the thought as you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his cheek, just below the scar. His breath warmed your shoulder as he shuddered beneath your touch and you kissed him a little higher, grazing the skin that changed from smooth to raised. The tension in his shoulders relaxed with each soft kiss and when you pulled back you were able to admire the sapphire that replaced his missing eye without him turning away.

“Are you not repulsed?”

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you shook your head and stood up, instantly missing the warmth of his hands where they had rested on your hips. He watched curiously as you grabbed your notebook from where he had placed it and fished your pockets for the coal. Though you wanted to sit close to him it was not the right place for what you wanted to do and so you took a seat on the settee opposite.

Not liking how far you were away either, he tried to stand and join you but the stern finger you pointed at him had him sinking back into the cushions while you found a blank page. He remained still as you captured his likeness on the page and the colourful shadows of the stained glass window reached his hair. 

You knew of merchants that could recreate colours with ochre and malachite collected from Essos but even with your family’s wealth the rare minerals remained out of reach. You were left with the common sticks of coal and on your name day you often received the finer illustrator of graphite. 

Satisfied by the portrayal, from the long strands of hair that were now dry to the strong jawline that had felt better than imagined in your hands, you rose from the chair. Aemond welcomed you back into his arms and eagerly looked at the page that was still open. His throat bounced with the swallow he took and you chewed on your bottom lip as you waited with bated breath.

He turned slowly so you could see his lips before he spoke, “This is how you see me?” 

You looked at the picture and smiled at the face of a confident, handsome young man as he faced the world without having to hide. Looking back at Aemond, you placed your hand over his heart and nodded. 

His arms pulled you closer as he dipped his head and your body trembled in anticipation. Every nerve ending flared to life when his lips caressed yours ever so softly and your hands tangled in his hair as you returned the kiss with more force. You could feel his smile against you before he gave you what you needed and deepened the kiss, stealing your breath until you broke away feeling lightheaded. 

His thumb traced your tingling lips as you slipped back into the seat, tucked under his arm, and you saw his kiss-swollen lips. You imagined yours looked the same and heat flooded you with the thought of being caught in the compromising state. A sliver of panic grew in your chest, if rumours spread then you would be shamed from your family so you scampered from the chair and brushed your hands over your skirts.

Alarm erupted from Aemond at the sudden change and he watched you right yourself, hurt haunting his blue eye before he too rose. “Please do not regret what we shared.”

You froze, your jaw dropping at what he had mistaken your fear as and against your better judgement, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his narrow waist as you shook your head. He curled himself around you until you felt entirely enveloped by his arms and his scent as he buried his face in your neck.

Pulling away reluctantly, he took your hand and placed it on his chest so you could feel the thunderous beat of his heart as it raced. “This belongs to you and I am yours if you will have me.”

His face blurred as tears welled in your eyes, the fierce nod of your head sending them cascading down your cheeks until he wiped them away with a proud smile. 

“I thought of another sign,” he said as he lifted his right hand up so his palm faced you before tucking his middle and ring finger back down. “When you see this, know that I love you.”

You raised your own hand and watched his tremble as you admitted what had been growing with each passing day since that first walk in the gardens. I love you.

Click here for part two.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

May I? - Warnings: NSFW. Cumplay. Handjob.

Defiance - Warnings: NSFW. Cockwarming. Swallowing cum. Threatening people with dragons because why not. Use of High Valyrian in steamy situations.

Lessons - Warnings: NSFW. Masturbation. Fingering. Possessive Aemond. Aemond seducing people using High Valyrian (what else is new?).

Forbidden Fruit - Warnings: NSFW. Hate sex. Dry humping. Oral sex (f receiving). Toasting: Aemond style.

Aftercare - Warnings: NSFW (very mild), Hurt/Comfort, Vulnerable and soft Aemond.

Seed of the Dragon - Warnings: NSFW. Cumplay. Oral sex.

Bonding - Warnings: Pregnancy. Vulnerable Aemond opening up. Hurt/Comfort.

Riding Dragons - Warnings: NSFW. Cumplay. Dry humping. Pussy slide. Aemond is very needy.

Persuasion - Warnings: NSFW. Overprotective Aemond. Edging. Orgasm denial. Oral sex. Breeding kink (implied)

Reassurance - Warnings: Fluff. Comfort. Aemond showing how attentive he can be.

Precious Stones - Warnings: NSFW. Aemond is such a tease…

Dragons - Warnings: Pure Fluff. Dad Aemond. Cavity inducing fluff…

The Offer - Warnings: NSFW. Fluff. Breeding kink.

Comfort

Byka Zaldrīzes

Vhagar

Hunger - Warnings: NSFW. Breastfeeding kink. Mommy kink.

Intimacy - Warnings: NSFW. Pregnancy sex. Cockwarming. Needy Aemond.

Punishment - Warnings: NSFW. Jealous/Possessive Aemond. Exhibitionism. “Just the tip”. Dry humping. Creampie.

Curiosity - Warnings: NSFW. Inexperienced Aemond. Oral sex (f receiving). Praise kink.

Wine - Warnings: Fluff. Attentive Aemond. Alcohol.

Despair - Warnings: NSFW. Masturbation. Breeding kink. Aemond’s POV

In the Morning - Warnings: NSFW. Fluff. Cockwarming.

Take a Seat - Warnings: NSFW. Face riding. Oral sex. Masturbation. Aemond’s nose is amazing.

Dreaming - Warnings: NSFW. There is only one bed. Fingering. Handjob.

Touch - Warnings: NSFW. Fluff.

Weakness - Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. Mentions of blood and neglect/abuse. Aemond’s POV.

Inexperience - Warnings: NSFW. Friends to lovers (if you squint). Inexperienced reader. Handjob. Masturbation.

Of Flowers & Dragons - Warnings: Fluff. Dad Aemond. “Where do babies come from” shenanigans.

Innocence - Warnings: NSFW. Friends to lovers. Inexperienced reader. Virgin reader. Mentions of virginity loss. Semi-public. Fingering.

Moonbloom - Warnings: Pure Fluff. Dad Aemond.

Dragon’s Fury - Warnings: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Dad Aemond. Protective dad Aemond (now we know who his daughter takes after).

Indulgence - Warnings: NSFW. Oral (m receiving). Inexperienced reader. Friends to lovers. Aemond’s POV.

Acceptance - Warnings: NSFW. Virgin reader. Virginity loss. Consummation proof.

Sabotage - Warnings: Fluff. Protective dad Aemond.

Unnoticed - Warnings: Comic relief. Aemond being Aemond. Aegon being Aegon and having a deathwish.

Knowledge - Warnings: NSFW (if you squint). Bickering. Aegon being a cockblock.

Dragonless - Warnings: Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Dad Aemond.

Innuendo - Warnings: Comic relief. Aegon being Aegon. Daeron being endearingly clueless. Sweet Helaena with her bugs. Alicent losing her patience.

Mistaken Hatred - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: This was a request, but I might have accidentally deleted it! If this was something you requested sorry for the lateness! Idk what happened 

Word Count: 4748

Warnings: angst, aemond is a loud-mouthed asshole 

Description: Aemond is sure that you are enemies and stuck in a marriage of convenience 

Keep reading

Willing - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: hey hey hey hey hey hey hey hey. Did anybody know that you can learn High Valryion on duolingo???????

Word Count:5198

Warnings: none i think 

Description: Aemond is a secretive little shit and you are willing to bet 

Keep reading

start from the beginning / latest chapter (The Inn at the Crossroads)

updated 12.16.2022

W.I.P.

rating: explicit 

word count:  107,100

The smallfolk had a saying: ‘Royce brides meet a cold end when they take a dragon lord to wed.’

When Pride Married Prejudice -- completed series masterlist

completed series summary: she is the (only) trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Laenor Velaryon. after her younger brother, Lucerys, slices out the eye of their uncle, Aemond Targaryen, her hand is offered as payment to keep the peace. though unexpected, she finds herself in a loving marriage, until devastating news forces her to make an impossible choice.

pairing: Aemond Taargaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

total series word count: 97,184

universal warnings: book and show spoilers, cursing, smut, angst.

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞 ❌ all taglists are discontinued 🚫 i do not give permission for any of my work to be posted, copied, translated, or uploaded to any other platforms 🚫

note: alternate endings because i'm restless and can't choose. also the idea of a Velaryon!reader isn't my own, so, let's play nice and show a shred of respect for different author's varying ideas, perspectives, and details - thank yew ✨

in chronological order: When Pride Married Prejudice

When Pride Married Prejudice [ part two ]

It Feels Like (the Very) First Time

It Feels Like (the Very) First Time [ part two ]

Petitions

Distraction

The Inky Green Council

Bearer of Bad News

alternate ending one: Kin Slayer • [ part two ]

alternate ending two: Sweetest Devotion • [ part two ]

guide to final alternate endings: Kin Slayer -- is for those in the slutty angst club 'cause i'm comin' for your feelings. reader is Team Black. Sweetest Devotion -- is for those who crave closure and comfort. reader is Team Green.

in order of publication: Distraction Bearer of Bad News Petitions The Inky Green Council When Pride Married Prejudice WPMP [ part two ] It Feels Like (the Very) First Time It Feels Like (the Very) First Time [ part two ] alternate endings: Kin Slayer • [ part two ] // Sweetest Devotion • [ part two ]

WPMP Universe drabbles:

all with be marked if they are or are not considered part of the series timeline. please pay attention to those notes.

organized in order of submission brought to you by my beautiful readers who sent requests:

• ( requested ) -- ANGST and small fluff i wonder who aemond would choose if he was given the choice of saving his wife or the baby during childbirth... would he choose the same as his father?

• ( requested ) -- ANGST and FLUFF i LOVE how you worded Aemond choosing sweet girl over the baby because in all truth, i imagine him justifying his choice as "what use would i be to a child without the tender care of a mother and an empty shell of a father?" because he knows IF he had chosen otherwise, he would be following in Viserys' footsteps and he wants to be better. so i 100% agree he would choose them over the child and ofc he's read of the aftermath of losing a child for the mother, so he's there to coax sweet girl but at the same time i feel like he'd mourn with her because that was a life they created together.

• ( requested ) -- ANGST how would he react if ever in a very unlucky world, he would lose both his child and wife at childbirth (not like viserys where he was given a choice) but bec it just didnt end well esp when pregnancies doesnt really guarantee a safe delivery all the time.

• ( requested ) -- ANGST and FLUFF 3 Times He Didn't, 1 Time He Did can you please write something where the reader (the same reader in your series) is spending memorable time with her grand sire and he asks her “will I be remembered as a good king”. 🥺

Wattpad link

to all my beloved readers -

thank you for coming on this journey with me. what a ride it's been writing this. now that the series is complete, i admit i'm a bit sad, but there will be smaller installments still to come. i just wanted to take the time to thank you all for bearing with me through this, and share my gratitude and love for you all. happy reading!

all my love, 🖤🍒 Cherry

Comedy of Errors Pt. 1

Based off this post, I had to write a short drabble haha it's been eating at my brain ALL DAY.

Part 2 here

Aemond x drunk!reader | hilarity ensues

You were very drunk.

It wasn't often you indulged, but tonight Aegon had successfully persuaded you to down goblet after goblet of wine until the hour grew late and your vision swam before your bleary eyes.

Your husband, throwing a last exasperated look to his elder brother, helped you rise from the table. "Y/N, put your arm around my shoulders. No, my shoulders, Y/N."

With a long-suffering sigh, Aemond grabbed your limp wrist, pulling your arm over his shoulders himself. You giggled madly, egged on by Aegon's tipsy cackles. It was just the three of you remaining in the dining hall, Helaena had long since made her escape back to her chambers.

It was with difficulty Aemond maneuvered you both around the oaken table and to the door. "Good night you two!" Aegon called after your retreating forms, raising another full cup to toast a farewell, sitting now alone inside the firelit hall.

Aemond had indulged in one glass of wine, switching to water for the rest of the evening. He had watched with increasing alarm at how quickly you'd inhaled each refill of your own drink, casting warning glares to his brother whenever Aegon refilled your cup enthusiastically.

You were having a tough time walking, much less being able to see the details of where you were being led. Your voice slurred as you tried to speak to the man helping you to your rooms. "I can quite manage on my own, thank you oh generous lord...lady...whoever you are." You ran a hand along Aemond's chest letting out a giggle. "Lord it is. You're a man."

"Last time I checked." Aemond said dryly, hoisting you back upright as your knees buckled slightly, opening the door to your shared bedroom and guiding you through before relinquishing his hold on you. "I am also your husband."

You collapsed onto the couch. "My husband." You smiled dreamily; eyes taken in by the dancing flames of the fireplace. "My husband is a dragon, you know."

"Is he indeed." Aemond crouched before you to unlace your shoes, smiling slightly as you continued.

"Oh yes." You lifted a heavy foot to aid in the removal of your shoes, your feet aching. "He's tall, like this tall." You raised a limp hand into the air above your head. "His hair is gorgeous. It's ridiculous really, he refuses to tell me the secret."

"Mhm. Go on."

"Yeah...so silky and long...it's not fair. He's smart, like book smart you know?" You tapped your temple with a finger.

"I do." Aemond was making a valiant effort to keep a straight face as he looked up at you from the rug, kneading small circles into the arch of your foot.

"He's brave, he rides Vhagar." You lowered your voice to a whisper at the dragon's name. "The biggest lizard in all the world."

Aemond laughed loudly at that, his voice filling the room. "Does he now? Sounds like quite a man."

"Oh he is." You laid back against the cushions, sighing dreamily, a little trickle of drool running down the corner of your mouth. "He is absolute magic in bed." You sat up again suddenly, swaying as your vision spun. "His cock is about the size of a Pentosi-"

"I think," Aemond interrupted, wiping your mouth with his thumb. "It is quite time for bed, don't you?"

"Mmm, bed." You agreed, trying to stand only to fall back against the sofa, laughing helplessly.

"Here, my love." Aemond, ever patient with you, sat you upright, reaching around your waist to pull at the laces of your dress.

You slapped his hands away, a frown upon your flushed features. "No, no, no, for my husband only."

"Y/N I-"

"No, his hands only touch." You gestured to yourself before raising your arms like a marionette doll. "Help me to bed, Clive."

"I'm having words with Aegon tomorrow." Aemond murmured, knowing that arguing would be useless as he helped you stand and make your stumbling way to the bed.

He tried once more to assist you out of your heavy gown, but you hit at his chest weakly with loose fists. "I'll tell my husband of this behavior; he'll have something to say to you when he finds out."

"Of that, I have no doubt." Aemond sighed, relenting as you shook a stern finger at the bedpost.

You collapsed upon the feather mattress, curling in on yourself as Aemond tucked you into the blankets. He surreptitiously loosened the lacings of your corset so you could at least breathe properly as you slept.

It was not long before your breathing slowed, and you fell into deep slumber.

"That is going to be a hangover sent straight from the seven hells." He muttered, leaning over your sleeping form to place a kiss to your head.

Aemond elected to sleep on the couch that night, fearing you'd wake and panic, thinking a stranger...this mysterious "Clive"...shared your bed. He stoked the fire one last time before changing and settling down under a thin throw blanket. He watched your still body for a time, listening to the occasional soft snores that left your slack mouth, until he too fell into a dreamless sleep, a slight smile still upon his lips.

Hi hi! Okay so those song prompts are magnificent. How about ‘17. And at once I knew, I was not magnificent - Holocene, Bon Iver’

It would be good to have something where Aemond l sees the reader for the first time at a ball or something and his own little view that he is superior to others comes crashing down because he is in absolute awe of her? Feel free to alter/tweak/change whatever!

thank you so much @littlemisscaptainfandom ! i ran wild with this one. feral. i love the idea of aemond being outplayed because of his smugness, and the ball idea - enjoy!

request a song prompt!

Magnificent

Warnings: Aemond being in deep denial lmao WC: 3333 (nice)

Prompt 17: "And at once I knew, I was not magnificent" - Holocene, Bon Iver

He heard you long before he saw you – the uneven heel clacking of a noble’s daughter who had shirked one too many dance lessons. 

“No,” he heard a lilting voice laugh, impatiently. “Like this - right foot second, you dolt.”

Dolt indeed – the instruction was lost on the girl, whoever in the Seven she was. Yet another sacrificial lamb to lure the unwed dragon into marriage, no doubt. Even with one eye and a turned back, Aemond could practically smell her family’s pathetic attempt at temptation – a corset two sizes too small and a family ambition two leagues too large. 

The prince didn’t deign to watch the scene. He preferred the game of gleaning, observation – seeing without seeing. Creating the tapestry in his mind and tracing the threads to know which to pull to watch it all unravel. It had long been said by the Maesters that when one loses a sense, the others bolster themselves, and indeed, all he had to do was listen.

Aemond heard the Dolt relinquish a dramatic sigh. “It seems that I simply must retire to the fray then Elyana, lest I bring shame upon our most noble house.” 

The younger – Elyana – huffed.

“It would be wise. How father expects to make you a dragon bride, I will never know. You cannot dance, or sing, or embroider –” 

“Yes, and lest we forget my stunning lack of maternal instinct,” you lamented. “Remember when Darya’s little one bit me?”

Aemond smiled – smug, slight, vulpine. He was right, of course, as he always was. 

The sudden sound of shattered glass upon flagstones jerked Aemond out of his wager. He acted on instinct, as he always did, head whipping towards the drunken laughter and breaking his reverie. Behind him indeed stood two girls, as different as the sun and moon. The younger, dressed in fine lilac gossamer and silver, swiftly began to chase the bard and beg for another song. 

And then there was you. Aemond’s eye roamed your figure, appraising the rich, dark olive of your gown and its deep, square neckline – Braavosi velvet, he’d wager, a show of wealth to have such long sleeves of the stuff. A little demure for an attempted seduction, he mused. Perhaps her family thought to appeal to mother’s piousness. 

The prince would never admit that this was the longest he had stared at a woman. He simply wanted to improve his skill of gleaning, listening, to compare the observations he made with the reality before him. It was imperative to absorb every detail; the way that your gold pendant heaved with your shallow, shocked breathing, and the sliver of hair resting on your cheek. There was a power in your tensed shoulders - coiled, reactive, ready for the threat of weight. Aemond felt his fingers twitch against his will, a yearning to carry it for you. 

He snapped himself back to reality with an internal grimace - the dragon cannot lie with the lamb. The music had begun again, and you finally turned towards him, face blanching at his discovered proximity. 

“Prince Aemond,” you started, eyes wide, muscles coiled – caught in the courtly snare. 

The lamb is too stunned to curtsey, he mused, watching your quick fingers wringing the golden band on your thumb. You certainly were the most radiant of the sacrifices offered to him so far. Though, he parried, there would be little use in marrying a fool.

Aemond hummed, relishing in your panic for a few seconds longer than any decent gentleman would.

“I’m half-blind, not half-deaf,” he said lowly, taking a step closer. “One would do well to be wary of the court, my lady. You never know who might be listening.” 

Your eyes narrowed imperceptibly – a flash of something Aemond didn’t quite recognise, gone as quickly as it appeared. Idiots have trouble accepting their transgressions, he supposed, but her polite smile had something hidden behind it, like the dark side of the moon. Deep within the tides of the fray, Alicent observed the scene with a ghost of a smile. She watched the girl hide fire and intelligence in her muscles like a coiled serpent, and bitterly wished that she had the same instinct as a girl. Perhaps then she could have avoided her fate of staring at ceilings and dancing with dragons.

Her prayer was silent as she observed you, implored with eyes instead of the tongue: Keep buying your time, sweet girl. Her second son was much too perceptive not to see through your mummer’s moronity eventually – she could already see Aemond’s eye probing your mask.

“Aemond,” the Queen beckoned with a regal nod of her head.

Time. She thought, noting the way your minds danced around each other, palpable. Love matches were rare, mind matches even more so – but she could see the way you looked at one another. Time and choice. She would gift you the mercy the gods denied her. 

The prince pried his eye away from you with great effort, waiting for you to answer him. You remained silent, gaze unwavering.

Interesting. He conceded as he walked towards his mother. For a dolt.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes narrowed through the dim candlelight. The crowd ebbed and heaved like fresh seafoam, and you searched for your sister, your anchor in the waves, like the Oldtown lightower would a lost ship. In truth, you felt uneasy without Ely, your sworn shield against courtly attentions. It had been like this ever since you were children – a symbiotic relationship, the tide to your moon. She would sing and whirl through your father’s halls, a gossamer dervish, drawing the attention to herself and leaving you free to pursue your histories and hidden halls, and hone your sharp tongue.

You finally spotted the girl by a large table of ale, humouring a dark haired young lord who had not yet grown into his long limbs. You weaved your way through the crowd to reach her, forming a courtly, waxen smile to begin your manoeuvre. 

“Sister!” You gasped, watching Elyana’s dark eyes twinkle as she recognised your ruse. “Mother requires you at once–” You cocked your head, silently wondering how every little lord fell for it. “Something about Ser Randyll?” 

The little lord – Arryn, you’d wager by his gleaming brooch – blanched at the sight of your mother in deep conversation with Lord Reyne and his son. You stifled a laugh watching his chest puff up slightly at the challenge – your work was done. You pried your sister away from the little falcon’s talons, barely managing to stifle your laughing fit until he was out of earshot. 

“Seven hells, Y/N, it took you long enough!” she huffed, preening over your shoulder to make sure that the young Lord Lannister hadn’t seen the exchange and think her spoken for. She had always been a romantic, excessively so, even for her six and ten years.

You pinched her dimpled cheek with a grin. “That’s for having far too much mirth in calling me a dolt earlier.” 

Elyana rolled her eyes, batting your hand away. “It was your grand strategy, if I recall.”

“Yes, and I accounted for the pinch.” You said wickedly, before surveying the hall.

“A job well done I’d say, The Prince heard our performance. I even refused to curtsey. He’ll no doubt relay my idiocy to the Queen, and we’ll be home in no time at all.” 

Elyana regarded you pensively, gently taking hold of your hand. Her gentleness felt like a cage to you, sometimes – perceptive, inescapable. “You know you will have to marry one day.” 

Your sister watched your eyes flutter, soaking in your surroundings like a sponge. Your reply was barely audible over the internal hum of your own thoughts. “Not like this.” 

You had decided that long ago. You knew you couldn’t escape a married fate – all women were cursed with the knowledge of how their lives would go from the moment they stepped into their first etiquette lesson with the septa. But, if you were to be married, it would be on your terms.

Impossible, father often branded you, but always with a fond smile.  If you could not escape your fate, you would fiercely guard the little time you had with your freedom as the kingsguard would protect the king.

Though sometimes, when alone in the vespertine hush of your chambers, you could admit the presence of a longing in yourself, a desire to be seen for who you were by whoever you might be sold off to. Such longing is dangerous, you told yourself. Expect the swing of the sword, never mercy. Especially if you found yourself drawn to the wielder like a moth to flame – you were lucky to have honed your courtly mask so well upon seeing his handsome face. Though you had heard takes of the “one-eyed brute”, there was little account of  the beautiful shadow his cheekbones cast, and his knowing, surveying gaze. 

Your sister pulled you out of your thoughts, head nodding to a balcony alcove. She knew the price you paid for duty as the eldest. “Go. Take your refuge. I’ll be with mother.” 

You offered her a tired, grateful smile before wading through the crowd towards your sanctuary, too close to paradise to be aware of the shark circling. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t as though Aemond had been watching you. Mother had always taught him to be an attentive host - he was merely cultivating good will, bolstering support for the war to come. He watched you grab your third - no, fourth - glass of wine, an irritated huff escaping his nose. He supposed there was little use in lying to himself any longer - he felt pulled to you the same way he felt called to the skies. Perhaps this was the lust that seemed to drive Aegon to the depths of Fleabottom every night - maddening.

The more he watched you, the more his one good eye narrowed in bewilderment. Supposedly too dim to follow a septa’s simple instruction and notice the ears of court, yet cunning enough to weave your way through this nest of dancing vipers and their hungry sons. You could redirect the attention of a young lord with a single word, and charm your father with the raise of an eyebrow. You moulded the scenes that unfolded around you, parrying dance requests with a skill he’d only seen with Ser Cole and his morningstar. 

So why the overt blundering before him?  He leaned against the pillar, pensive. The only rational explanation he could fathom was that you had heard stories of him and thought to demean yourself as a marriage prospect. The prince scowled. Of course. What woman such as her would want a one-eyed beast as a husband?  Aemond felt his insides twist and his fingers twitch, barely containing the ire towards himself. 

Despite your repulsion of him, Aemond felt his curiosity turning ravenous in his stomach as he watched you approach your sister. He could not help but want to map you as The Conqueror once did his lands – even if you did not want him, he could watch your mind work from afar. So watch he did, as your sister held your hand in hers like water. He mapped it all to memory – your hushed words, the steely set of your eyes and jaw, your deceptive smile; a sliver of his favourite crescent moon.

The hour was late and the candles burnt low. Nobody would begrudge any of the young ladies for retiring for the night – the young Tyrell girl had already sunk so far into her cups that she had to be carried to her chambers like an overwatered rose. Yet there you slithered to the alcove, alone, alert with empty company and a full cup. 

Aemond had begun to follow you long before his mind registered the movement of his legs. He followed your trail through the flurry of bright skirts, drunk on the hunt. His long legs strode with a purpose that was lost to his conscious mind, stopping when he reached the boundary of the lush, red drapery. Aemond stood outside of your sanctuary for a long while before breaching it, in an act that almost reminded him of protection. From what, he did not know. A mangled dragon guarding its hoard, he thought wryly, before stepping onto the balcony with the silence of a predator. 

The prince wasn’t sure what he expected. A maiden in tears after being shunned at court, perhaps – he wasn’t sure how far you’d go to keep up the show. But there you were, in the furthest corner of the alcove, with your elbows on the dark stone and your eyes to the stars. He glanced at your now-empty cup before clearing his throat. 

You sighed imperceptibly before turning to face him. So you knew I was here, then. The thought made him hide a smile - the idea of you sensing his presence and ignoring him anyway, even if you tried to hide that fact. Insolent. He thought. Magnificent.

You bowed this time, with a tired, chagrin smile - an apology for earlier. “Forgive me, my Prince. It has been a while since my sister and I have been in the capital. The intricacies of court politics appear to be lost on me.”  

Aemond hummed, ignoring the way his innards clenched - my prince. He rather liked the sound of that. “Yet not so unhoned that you managed to avoid that Lannister whelp,” he paused, brow raised. It made him feel less shame to know he was not the only one you rebuked. “Not to mention that little Manderly lordling.” 

The Prince enjoyed watching you war with yourself - needing to keep your shield up, yet too tired and full of ire to keep up the ruse for much longer. 

“Evading them hardly requires a honed mind, my Prince.” You snorted. A clever answer. He thought. Too clever. 

“Aemond.” He corrected. You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious.  “If I am to play along with your farce, let the rest of it be real.” He amended, making his way next to you but never prying his eye away.

You breathed a laugh, toying with your rings again. “You see more with one eye than most do with two, Aemond.”

The prince hummed. “It is of little consequence. They still brand me “one-eye” after all.”

“Little,” you snorted again, a glorious sound. Real, he thought, the soft skin of your hand calling him as your voice did. Real enough to touch. “Perhaps everything seems little to the rider of the largest dragon alive.”

The mention of Vhagar earnt you a small smile - a true one that you couldn’t quite look away from. Somehow you knew that it was Aemond’s version of a face-splitting grin.

You basked in comfortable silence for a while, noting how he had placed you on his right side – away from his eyepatch. The revelation made you frown, but left your vision unobstructed. It gave you a better look at the way his hair fell, an estuary of molten silver. You committed his profile to memory - the sharp edges that were strong, true, until he suddenly met your eyes. For once, you were speechless - the lush darkness of the night and the sweet smell of gardenias were suddenly oppressive.

“I really can’t dance, you know.” You blurted. 

Aemond artfully raised an eyebrow in question. 

“Earlier,” you clarified. “what you heard.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with what you hoped was a self-effacing smile. “I really am a terrible dancer, it was no lie.” 

Aemond nodded grimly in understanding. “There is no need, my Lady, I understand your distaste for the match.” He stood taller, and tapped his eyepatch lightly. 

Aemond watched ten emotions cross your face at once, until you settled on the one that most puzzled him; anger. Your eyebrows furrowed deliciously, something he noticed you did before you wielded your barbed tongue, and your lips parted. He did not see how your heart caught in your throat, nor the way your hands almost sprung to hold his shoulders. You slapped your palms onto the cold stone instead.

“Gods no. No, that is,” you breathed, warring with yourself before finally conceding. “It is not you, Aemond. Nor the sapphire eye that likely costs more than my entire dowry,” you jested half-heartedly. 

You steeled yourself for honesty, looking into the sky once again and sneering in defiance at the gods who watched.  “If I am to be sold off, I at least want to choose my buyer.” 

Aemond’s gaze never left you, probing your truth as if he were caught in its net. He finally understood, and you knew he did. There was little that could be said, he thought.

Your eyes were almost crazed with a repressed frustration that was finally breaching the walls of your dutiful facade. A longing to be understood that matched his own. He saw fire – not that of ‘fire and blood’, but the fire of lightning. Beautiful, terrible, calculated in its strikes. Magnificent. 

You trembled as if to cull the rage from erupting out of you. Years of playing placater, unable to unleash the true potential of your mind and spirit. Aemond’s eye flitted down to the stone, observing the shaking of your hands.

He did the only thing he knew how to and rested his hand gently over yours, the same way he would calm Vhagar. Real, he thought. Warm. Much too warm. You calmed under his touch. He understood, you know he did – years at court culling your own ambition at the expense of duty. Aemond created the “one-eyed brute”, just as you created the “little dolt of a lamb”. 

You placed your hand over his. Horribly improper – it made you smile under the valleys of his scars and callouses. You wondered if you could map them in your mind as the maesters mapped the stars – a sky that was your own. Aemond felt your pulse thrum under his fingers and let it reverberate – his hands, his ears, his heart, his bones, it was all you. He knew you would have to leave soon enough, but for now, he would bask in you, knowing you’ve scorched him for life. 

“Aemond,” You said, hushed. “How far can a dragon fly?” You looked up to meet his faraway gaze, relishing in catching him off guard. His lips were slightly parted as he stared at your own. It took every ounce of his steel restraint not to pull you to him and show you the meaning of fire and blood. 

Instead, he hummed. “Vhagar has been known to make the trip from here to Dorne in a day, give or take - ”

He stilled at the interrupting shake of your head. If you had met his eyes, you would have noticed the questioning squint of his eye. Instead, your eyes were now trained above him, not wavering from the star-spittled sky.

“No,” you began, the gold of your necklace jingling as you craned your neck - as if the stars would be able to hear you better that way. “How high? Your maesters would not tell me.” 

Aemond stared at you for a moment, finally following your gaze upwards with a slight smile. You asked the maesters. Of course you did. The thought of you badgering them in the palace library filled him with a disturbing level of fondness. 

“Perhaps we could find out.”  

Your head whipped towards him, eyes sparkling in the dark. “We?”

Aemond hummed again, this time in affirmation as he took your hand in silent question. “If I’m steering Vhagar, who will take note of the scientific observations? Maybe you are a dolt after all, my lady.”  You squeezed his hand in your own, and your answering grin was like the sun. Magnificent.

Bearer of Bad News

[ series masterlist at end ]

prompt: devastating news reaches your ears from an unlikely messenger.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 7.2k+

note: oh no it's turning into a pirate baby war criminal series.

warnings: spoilers, cursing, OC Aemond, author has a thing for pet names and making hardened men simps for their ladies. not really edited, angst, ambiguous ending because why not. ❗️major season one, episode ten spoilers

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞 ❌ all taglists are discontinued

"Aemond, please listen to reason, and do not go," you begged your husband as you followed him around your room; hand to your freely-swelling belly firm as if to keep the small babe in place. "Please - I wish I could explain it but I fear for this message you are to carry."

"Hey, hey," Aemond paused in his venture to ready himself for his envoy trip to the Storm Lands; turning to take your hands in his. "Is that what this is about, my sweet? You know you are the love and light of my life," he smirked broadly as if to tease you, "and no Baratheon whore is going to change that. Hmm?"

"Do not remind me of your brother's vile proposal," you sneered, rolling your eyes away from his piercing gaze. "It was disrespectful, at best!"

He chuckled a bit, tugging you in so he could hold your waist. "Come now, my sweet wife. It is just a marriage pact for an alliance. What're the odds I will actually have to marry the broad? Hey?"

"You are not free to marry," you snapped.

"I am honored for the privilege to uphold our ancestral customs. More than one wife is a Targaryen tradition, my pet."

"Aemond."

He smirked deeper, "They are but silly words, my love. Who ever Lord Borros offers will not share my bed, nor affection, but only my name."

"Our name," you reminded, "for I am still your wife. I am carrying your Targaryen child, and you will show me respect."

"Of course, darlin'," he relented with a nod. "I meant no offense."

"And she would share our home, too, is it?"

He shrugged, "Perhaps Aegon will take interest in her."

"Oh, that's cruel."

"I do not know how to satisfy you, my love. Help me out here."

"Go back and refuse your brother because you are married to me, and that is enough!"

"They are just words," he sighed, leaning his forehead to yours as his hand cradled your cheek to keep you close. "Ease yourself, my love, please. 'S not good for the babe."

You huffed lightly, "Does not mean you should carry his message to Lord Borros. Please, Aemond, it storms there all the time and that can be dangerous, do not go. Just - do not leave me alone."

"I will only be gone a single day, my love," he promised with patience, leaning in to press his lips to yours. Long gone was his teasing smirk, seeing and feeling your genuine worry for his wellbeing and deciding it was better to comfort your pregnancy-brain.

Helaena had warned Aemond that once with child, the mind kinda slips, but it is not to be held against the woman for it is just a symptom of creating life in their belly.

"Then will you do me a favor?"

"Hmm?"

"Take Kasta, please."

"Oh, my sweet girl," he chuckled now. "I cannot take your dragon, she is yours, and she still grows. She is not suited for this trip, okay? Worry not, Vhagar will protect and serve me well."

You sighed sadly, "Well, when you've an answer for everything, 'tis a bit hard to be upset."

"You're just worried," he sighed, nodding in understanding. "Hear me, please, my sweet wife. There is nought a thing for you to worry over, there is nothing of concern."

"Well, what if my mother sends an envoy?"

"What if she does?"

"What will you do?"

"Out of respect only for you, I will not engage," he smirked, placating you. "I am eager to return, we might continue to celebrate our child."

"That sounds so strange, my love," you pouted lightly, making him crack a brief smile. "How am I to ensure you are safe? What if I went with you on Kasta?"

"Not a chance in all Seven Hells," he laughed, pecking your forehead twice. "Oh, I love you dearly, my pet, but I am not letting you fly into Storms End - even with a loyal beast like Kasta."

You huffed lightly, "Then take me yourself on Vhagar."

"You are the Princess," he shook his head with a whisper, "and my beloved wife - I will not risk you in any capacity."

"Fine!" You rolled your eyes, pecking his lips before finally pulling back to drop onto the bed - rubbing your swelling belly. "But what if you just didn't go? Hmm? You know?"

"No, pet. Not possible," he answered smoothly, as if he anticipated your words while continuing to ready himself. "What if you were in the Dragon Pit when I returned? So that you might see, as the first, that I am safe and well?"

You thought about it as Aemond pulled leather garb onto his body, smirking at you as he went. "Maybe..."

"Would you like to do my hair, my Princess?" He offered, holding a brush out for you. You snatched it up and grinned to yourself, easing him into a chair before starting on his locks. "Just keep it away from my face, pet. Got a long fly."

"I know how you like it," you smirked, leaning in to kiss his cheek and jaw. "Sit still please." He titled his head back to peck your lips, then settled to allow you to work.

Yet as he did, a hand was never far from you; pinching your hip or lingering near your elbow as you worked. He'd never admit it, but the Prince adore physical touch and often like to express himself through it; relying on most nonverbal communication. When you had his hair secured, you then fixed his eye patch on properly and sighed deeply to yourself, making your husband softly wonder, "What's on your mind, pretty girl?"

"I'll just miss you, I guess," you shrugged. "You truly must go?"

Helaena had also warned Aemond that pregnancy-brain can make some women clingy - though she did not experience it herself.

Prince Aemond sighed as he stood from his chair to hover over you - the damn bean stalk of a man - and held your waist tightly. "I will meet you in the Pit after," he promised. "Be there at sundown, yes?"

"Of course, my Prince," you promised in a whisper, ensuring the words were meant only for him. Trying to prove your love, you told him in High Valyrian, "I will wait for you forever, if I must. But do not make me."

He chuckled, "Oi, hey, watch it, my pretty wife. You know I can hardly resist when you get to talkin' in tongues."

You grinned against his lips, letting him pressing one, two, three more kisses in parting. "Be careful," you whispered, "and please come back to me."

"I will always do what I can to ensure that, sweet wife," he answered just as quietly, nodding sadly. "I must go..."

You sniffled, "All right. Go on, 's all right, love. Be careful in the Storm Lands, it's not named lightly."

Taking one last look at you, Aemond sighed and squeezed your hand, leaving you with his words, "Be in the Pit later."

You nodded, watching him stride towards the door, but something lurched in your stomach. "A-Aemond?" You call, jogging slightly after him. As if anticipating your movements, he turned swiftly and caught you in a tight embrace; letting his hand lock around the back of your neck to keep you steady as his nose pressed into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply to commit your scent to memory.

He sighed, petting over your hair for a moment as you both savored the feeling of one another. When ready, you pulled back with tears shining in your eyes - but willed them not to fall. You knew it was silly to worry over him for a matter such as this, but you felt sickened by his departure, and prayed for his safety.

"No matter what is to come, know that I love you deeply," he swore quietly, petting over your chin with his calloused fingertips; foreheads resting together to keep proximity. "'S all right, it'll be all right, sweetheart."

"Just come home, and I will wish for little else."

He smirked some, "Pregnancy has made you soft, my wife. 'Tis a good look on you."

"Is it?"

"I adore it," he promised with a chuckle. "Now, kiss me, my pretty girl, and I will return by nightfall."

Surging onto your toes, your arms rose to let you hold onto your husbands neck; his lips finding yours in a passionate, frenzied dance. Just before the kiss grew sloppy, Aemond pressed his lips in meaningful, hardened affection - something you physically felt.

He had to pull back or else risk being tempted into staying; petting the side of your face before turning swiftly and slipping out the door. You heard his footsteps retreat down the hall and slowly claimed a seat on your shared bed - that had only just cooled from your warm bodies finding solace and peace in the sheets from the night.

You kept yourself busy for the whole day, trying not to wonder over Aemond's adventures. You took time to sit with Helaena for a bit, visiting with the twins; answering any of the girl's questions about your pregnancy. "You've grown," she cocked her head softly, eyes set on your belly.

"Oh," you smiled a bit, nodding to the newly-crowned Queen, "yes, it seems the babe grew overnight, and only after I could tell the news."

"He's listening," Helaena nodded. "Like he knows."

You chuckled a bit, laying an affectionate hand to your belly to rub slightly. "Yes, I imagine so, sometimes. Though, between you and me," you lowered your tone to lean in, telling her, "I wager it's a girl."

"Really?" Your sister-by-law asked with intrigue. "How special!"

You hummed and nodded, going back to mindless embroidery as the twins played on the floor near your feet. As usual, the Queen stitched a new bug, but you weren't sure of your design because you continued to fall distracted, leaving your pallet a mess of tangled colorful thread. You tried to play it off, but for the rest of the day, you worried for your husband.

Whether pacing the gardens or pacing your bedchambers, you could not remain still as both your back and stomach knotted themself in stress. You could barely be spoken to the whole day, and come the evening meal, your step-mother, the Queen Regent, Alicent Hightower, was reaching for your hand. "Are you alright, dearest girl? You've barely touched your meal this evening."

You nodded stiffly, "Of course I'm alright."

She sighed knowingly, "I did not like it, either, you should know."

"What might that be, Your Grace?"

"Well, for one, Aegon sending Aemond away to parlay with the Baratheons, and offering his hand to any of his daughters."

You sighed, obediently replying, "The King can do as he pleases."

She sighed, muttering, "Not always. I told him he had no right in offering his brother's hand, but he would not hear me. What of Aemond's reaction?"

"To the Prince, Your Grace, they are but pitiful words that he does not mean," you answered, pushing a bit of stewed vegetables around your plate. "To me? They are unjustly cruel and wittingly disrespectful."

She nodded in agreement, "Worry not, dear girl, I will speak to Aegon, and we will design a new strategy for loyalty."

You half-smiled, glancing across the table to the 'King'. You knew your mother was the rightful heir but considering your position amongst the Greens, you wanted to tread as neutrally as possible. Tearing your eyes away from the boy-playing-King, you tried to focus on your meal but how could you when the sun was set in place to sink?

After asking for leave once stomaching three bites of your meal, that Alicent permitted with a soft kiss to your cheek, you stood from the table, gave a short curtsy to the King, nodding to the Queen, and turned on your heel to escape the dining quarters. When alone in your chambers, you were swift to swing a hooded cloak onto your shoulders; hiding your trademark silver locks, and slipping out of the secret passage your room hosted.

Early one night in your marriage, Aemond had shown you - and together, you were pretty sure you had only found half of the Red Keep's secret passages. Yet this was all you needed, jogging through the stronghold to pass onto the darkening street, and head for the Dragon Pit.

Upon arriving, your hair was the only confirmation guards needed to let you pass, and when you got there, Aemond had yet to arrive. With worry, you paced by your dragon's keep and Kasta watched you with curiosity burning in her eyes. She huffed a few times, making you pause to nuzzle her snout - but she grew larger by the day, and it was harder to offer her affectionate cuddles.

She wasn't the size of Vhagar, but something akin to Meleys, or the Red Queen, that had last been seen when smashing the Dragon Pit to shit during Aegon's coronation. The only reason you were bitter about it all was because, for one, you did not think of it, and two, Princess Rhaenys did not take out Alicent and the Greens when she had the chance. You worried not for yourself, for fire cannot kill a dragon, but when the Princess only turned the Red Queen away and soared out of the closing-Pit, you couldn't help but feel mildly disappointed.

Kasta heard it before you did, but a moment after the large, emerald green dragon picked her head up in alarm, you heard the echoing roar of Vhagar returning. Kasta cocked her head and snorted as she stood to her feet, taking only three steps so she stood completely over you protectively.

"It's Vhagar and Aemond, my love," you spoke softly in your Mother's Tongue. "Not to worry."

But the dragon did not back down, and in fact, let steam billow out of her nostrils. Being one of the larger beasts, your dragon was housed with Vhagar and Meleys, but after the Red Queen's departure, Kasta was left alone today... Making you wonder why she was overly protective in that moment.

You tried to chalk it up to you being pregnant and like Aemond, Kasta only wanted to keep you close to ensure your safety. But when your knees buckled some under the tremor of Vhagar's landing, you wondered if you were imagining things, or if the dragon's movements felt much... Shakier.

Kasta growled when you tried to move and with a squeak, you were wrapped in her heaving paw, being drug back under her stoic form. "Kasta!" You reprimanded sharply. "He's my husband, there is no - " But you gasped when Vhagar gave a mighty roar from within the Pit - sand and dirt trembling from the cracked walls from sheer vibration. Kasta raised her head when you took a step back to feel her breast at your head.

When the thundering steps of Vhagar was heard, your dragon bared her teeth in threat - and you suddenly worried for your position. It was obvious tension ran high and if your other-wise very sweet and docile dragon was riled up, you worried she could smell something alarming on Vhagar. But she kept her paw close to you in a cradle, as if to keep you at bay and under her protection.

"Aemond?" You called when you heard someone grunt and pant from down the way; the echo of the Pit proving useful in this moment.

"Love? That you?"

You tried to step out, but Kasta growled and slammed her arm in front of you to prevent your departure. "Oh, Kasta! Not now!"

But you only earned a threatening growl in return.

"What's happening?" Aemond's voice called, his body appearing at the mouth of your dragon's alcove - taking a step back when her large, emerald head whipped around to glower at him. "Is something wrong?" He asked you, cautious of the dragon growling at him. "The baby?"

"Baby's fine, but I was hoping you could tell me what was wrong," you sighed, stroking over your dragon's hide of her inner arm. "Kasta went on the defense the moment she heard Vhagar. Why would that be, husband?"

But you didn't expect Aemond to stiffen, lifting his gaze up and away from you.

"Aemond?" You wondered gently, trying to steer his attention towards you from behind your dragon's arm. "My love, are you all right? What's happened?" The term of endearment from your desperate lips made your husband flinch, turning away from you in full, and making you snap, "Aemond Targaryen, you tell me what's happened - now!"

Kasta gave a guttural growl when your temper spiked. It made your long, silver haired husband pause. When he turned to look at you again, you could see the few tears falling down his cheeks and knew it was not beads of water dripping from his still-sopping hair. Your dragon stepped out when you did, keeping her body between you both and Vhagar - something you noticed acutely.

"Did something happen with Vhagar, my love? Are you injured?" You asked as you finally approached him, but Aemond uncharacteristically flinched away from your hands as you tried to reach for him. "What's this? What's happened? Are you hurt?"

"I..." He took a breath, tears brimming in his violet eye to fall helplessly down his pale, sunken cheek. "I did not mean for it to happen, love..."

"Okay," you nodded patiently. "So, there was an accident?"

"In a way," he relented, breathing out tautly before leaning to a wall and sliding down it - the look of despair and dejection etched on his face. You slowly approached him. "When I tell you what has happened, I will lose you, too. You will leave, and I will be unable to stop you - but you've got to know how bloody sorry I am."

"Aemond," you sighed. "You're starting to frighten me, my love. What's happened? Please tell me, are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt... But you said so long as I returned here, to you, you could not ask for anything else, right?" He asked breathlessly, watching you nod as you slowly lowered yourself beside him; facing him so you could watch his face. "Does that still stand... If I've made a terrible mistake that will effect you, too?"

You sighed, "All right. Hey," you nodded, reaching for his trembling, freezing cold hand, "you can do a lot in this lifetime, Aemond Targaryen, but very little will shake the foundation of love that we have. What has happened that's so bad, hmm?"

He whispered, "Might've... Potentially started the war..."

You sighed sadly, sat in the sand, "Oh, Aemond... C'mon, love, you were just to carry a message to Lord Baratheon."

"I know."

"So, how is it you potentially started the war? Hmm?" You shuffled closer to him, trying not to let your heart shrivel from the way he visibly recoiled. "The hell's going on? This isn't like you - we're a team, Aemond. Why're you shutting me out? See - this is in part why I wanted to go, then you'd have no need to explain anything."

He nodded mutely, taking a staggering breath in that worried you more. Aemond didn't often show regret, but here, before you now, it was obvious the young Prince was drowning in it.

"Aemond, please, you're worrying me, my love," you whispered, trying to warm his hands in yours. But still, he could not meet your eyes, and his hands were deadly limp.

"I don't know where to start," his voice crackled into a whisper.

"From the beginning, please," you nodded, readjusting slightly to better look at him. "Sweetheart, just take your time, but please, do not shut me out. I cannot help you if I do not know what plagues you."

In a broken whisper, he admitted, "Once I tell you, you won't think to call me sweetheart - or sweet anything, again. Gods," he breathed, chuckled without humor, "I did not think I would miss something so much but the idea of never hearing you call me a pet name again sends my stomach to my feet."

"My Lord husband is a sweet man," you slowly reached for his face, caressing his jaw so he looked at you, "though perhaps only I get the pleasure of bearing witness to it," you whispered in return, letting your thumb caress his skin. "I will be the judge of what name befits him, for I am the one calling him. But I will need to know what startles him so. I will need to know so I can try to help him through his grief."

He blinked a few times, but your image became blurred as emotion coated his throat, "Please, just... Do not leave me after you know."

Though Aemond might not have felt true, gut-wrenching guilt over what had become of the young Prince Luke, he feared telling you, and feared what would happen once you knew. He knew that he could not, nor would he want to, stop you from fleeing the capital. And after today, the least he could do is assist smuggling you out. The very idea made his stomach clench; where he once planned a future with you and your child, now, his mind flashed with the idea of helping you get back to your mother.

Speaking of, he was jarred into reality by your voice asking, "Did you kill my mother?"

"No," he spoke swiftly.

"Then there is little to worry over," you sighed. "Less you killed my little brothers, then, that is... Different...?" You trailed off when his head hit the wall behind him, restraining the emotion from his face as he kept his head tilted to the side in an effort to avoid you. "Aemond? Hey, look at me, please... Please, Aemond, did something happen? Has something happened to my brothers?"

His hands trembled in yours, his throat croaking, "Yes."

You had to pause, trying to keep a level head. "All right, well, is that the accident you speak of?"

"It is..."

"This is... The accident you caused that's potentially started the war?"

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Answer me, Aemond, please. Is this the accident you speak of that has caused the start of the war? Speak plainly."

Your husband paused to swallow thickly, finally admitting, "Yes. I-It is, my love."

You let out a staggering breath that refused to ease itself. You felt panic overwhelming your chest as worst case scenarios played themselves out in your mind, vaguely feeling Aemond reaching for you as panic took over. His words were muffled seemingly beneath water, leaving you staggering for rational thought and breath. Yet none would come to you - could come to you. Your husband had managed control of your weeping form, turning to switch places; leaving you pressed to the wall as he tried to coach you through your interrupted-breathing.

When the initial shock wore off, your hands were gripping his biceps tightly, demanding, "What happened? What did you do? Please, please, Aemond, you're the - you're the only one. The only one who knows the truth. Please, tell me in full, and tell me in truth - what happened to my brothers?"

He nodded, whispering, "It's not going to be easy to hear, my love."

"I need to," you argued, tugging the sleeve of his squeaky-wet leather jerkin. "Tell me, please, I deserve to know. W-What has become of my baby brothers, Aemond? Please tell me! I have a right!"

He nodded, eye tinged red from emotion, admitting, "I arrived in Storms End before your mother's envoy. I brought the King's words but then came reports of another dragon heading in our direction... So, we waited," he swallowed thickly.

"Who was it? Who did my mother send?"

He sighed, "Luke."

"Gods," you whispered, nodding as you sniffled. "So, Luke arrives, and what?"

"I let my anger get the best of me, pet..."

= Storms End // hours prior =

"Where's the bloody Maester!?" Lord Borros demanded, glaring to his court as a man bowed and rushed away to retrieve the one man who could read Rhaenyra's letter.

Aemond did not lift his murderous gaze from Prince Luke's form, making the 14-year-old boy wrap his fist around the hilt of his sword. The Maester jogged into the courtroom, and yet, the Prince did not lift his violet eye from the boy; standing curiously beside a woman with dark hair - assuring the Prince this was one of Borros Baratheon's daughters. Luke found this curious, knowing Aemond was married to his white-haired sister... So, why was he found in low conversation with the pretty Lady Baratheon?

The Maester read the Black Queen Rhaenyra's words, glancing at Luke, before bending at the waist to mutter to Lord Borros the letter's contents. When the words registered, the Baratheon Lord was snarling, "'Remind' me of my father's oath." Thunder rumbled around them. "King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact." He looked pointedly to Aemond and his daughter, making Prince Luke's jaw clench. The Lord leaned forward on his 'throne', snarling, "If I do as your mother bids..." His head turned to regard the remaining three daughters left lined up, "Which one of my daughters will you wed... Boy?"

"My Lord... I am not free to marry. I am already betrothed, and by all accounts, Prince Aemond is married to my sister, the Princess Y/N Velaryon."

"She's a Targaryen Princess now, boy, and you should know," Aemond smirked from across the hall, "that taking more than one wife is an honored familial custom."

Borros continued before any more retaliation could be spat, noting to Luke, "So, you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your Mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

Aemond found the response rather poised, decently poetic.

Luke decided to take the diplomatic route and respond, "I shall take your answer to the Queen, my Lord."

Aemond smirked at the response, watching the kid turn to depart the Storm's End hall - but could not resist the confrontation, and called, "Wait..." And when Luke turned, Aemond continued, "My Lord Strong." He watched for a baited reaction, and when Luke turned with anger marring his young features, stalking forward again, Aemond could not hold his tongue any longer. "Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

The boy steeled his feet, understanding that he was being baited now. "I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

"A fight would be little challenge," Aemond taunted. "No," he decided, lips quirked in a smirk. Then, he reached to palm his eye patch off, revealing the gleaming sapphire he used as replacement, "I want you to put out your eye." He paused a moment to stare at the boy, who looked startled from the reveal, then continuing, "As payment for mine." When Luke appeared purely startled, Aemond finished, "One will serve."

He pulled his dagger from his belt and tossed it towards the Prince; letting it clatter to the stone floor in an ominous echo.

"I would not blind you, the only curtesy I would extend on behalf of my sweet wife," Aemond spoke levelly, a clap of thunder punctuating his words. The look of fear over Luke's face was enough to make his blood sing, but still, it wasn't all he wanted, so, he told the boy after tisking his tongue, "Plan to make a gift of it to my mother."

You fucking Mama's boy, Luke raged in his head.

"No," he decided to speak instead, his voice firm in refusal despite the want to crack from pressure.

Aemond spoke over the rumblings of the storm that raged outside, "Then you are craven as well as a traitor."

"Not here!" Lord Borros demanded, seeing the challenge brew to a knew height - and fearing for the rumors surrounding the One Eyed Prince. He knew the other rumors surrounding the loss of his eye, but while many circulated, each had to do with the Princess Rhaenyra's two dark-haired sons.

The tension was nearly tangible.

Something in Aemond snapped, crackled, and popped out of his heart - sending him surging forward as he cried, "Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!"

He stooped expertly to snatch up his dagger, standing tall as Luke armed himself with his sword, and the Lord of Storms End rose from his chair, shouting, "Not in my hall!" Only then did Aemond come to a halt, giving Luke a real up-close look at the damage he inflicted as a small child, in defense of his brother and cousins. "The boy came as an envoy!" Borros reminded them all. "I'll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon." Thunder clapped, lightning flashed. "Now."

When the four knights who escorted him into the hall moved into action, Luke sheathed his sword, offered his uncle one last stale look, and departed the hall - with another glance over his shoulder as he went. Aemond let his lips pull into a smirk, and his fingers deftly flipped his branded dagger back into its sheath at his hip.

= present // the Dragon Pit =

"All right," you sighed, sitting with Aemond beside you, hip on hip, thigh against thigh, and his arm laid over the seam of your legs and let both of yours hold his. "So, you lost your temper and threatened the boy. Hardly material that would start battles."

"I didn't get to the worst part..."

You sighed, "Does it explain the dragon's odd behavior?"

"I think," he whispered, pressing his lips over your forehead. "I don't think I can tell you more."

"You're going to have to," you sighed. "Though, by the pain it causes you, Gods, do I wish anyone else could explain it. But you know what really happened, my love. I need the truth of the matter."

"You'll get it," he promised, "I just need a moment... Where you don't hate me in full."

"Aemond," you tisked in worry. "Please stop making that assumption. I need the truth, I need the details - you're owed fair judgement. And now, unless Vhagar decides to start talking, only you can tell me. Borros won't, and I imagine the dragons are involved - or Kasta would not be so defensive."

He nodded mutely, leaning in to inhale the top of your head. "I'm truly sorry... Let me start there. A-And it wasn't my intention to hurt anyone, I only wanted t-to frighten the boy. I could not have my revenge for myself, but I wasn't satisfied in it all."

"Might I say something?"

He nodded, glancing at you once before fearing for the intensity behind your eyes. "Your eye, or lack thereof, has never once taken away from you. I know the ridicule you endured, my love, and I am truly sorry for it, and while I cannot undo years of torment and trauma, please understand that I do not find you lacking. I love you, Aemond, with or without your eye."

He sighed and let his hand drift to pull your knees in; letting you lean into his lap in an effort to be closer. "I know neither of us wanted to marry the other initially, but Gods, have I been grateful for it - for you. I need you to know that I do love you, and I am so fucking sorry."

You sighed. "All right, you're sorry, we love each other, we're on the same page. Only... You seem to know what happened, and I cannot help you yet. But for whatever it's worth, while I wish you hadn't, I understand your want for revenge. I am sorry for what my brothers did, and the price you paid."

He sighed against your forehead, "I am sorry for what I did today."

"Let me pass judgement, my love."

With a heavy sigh, Aemond delivered the final, devastating blow. "It was storming profusely - wind, rain, and thunder. The whole lot, making it terrible to see in... Luke had escaped on Arrax but he was tense, flying sporadically, and I know this because Vhagar and I pursued them. I only meant to scare him and give chase, and he was smart enough to dive for the canyons. Vhagar is too big to follow, so, we lost him for a time..."

= Storm Lands // hours prior =

Vhagar stretched her wings to their full span as she and her master flew over the canyon; both searching for the boy riding the terribly small (by comparison), paler dragon. Over the howling winds, sideways rain, and clapping thunder, Aemond called in High Valyrian, "You owe a debt! Boy!"

But there was no visibility, and soon, the thick storm clouds swallowed them whole. Aemond still looked from side to side, and perhaps, his dragon had understood his words; because in the next few moments, everything went perfectly wrong. Having used the clouds and raging storm to their advantage, Arrax and Luke had technically been in the clear, but the smaller dragon rebelled first.

Over the winds, Aemond heard Luke shouting in High Valyrian, "No, Arrax!" The next second, a blast of fire shot out from the pale dragon and seared into the neck, jaw, and face of the much larger dragon of war. The challenge was set, and Aemond heard his nephew as they flew away, "No, Arrax! Obey me!"

But Vhagar had accepted the challenge, and there was no controlling the wild beasts. Aemond felt the shift as his dragon roared with her temper flaring, understanding she meant to pursue, and begged her, "NO! No, no, no, no!" The ancient dragon turned, roaring with challenge. "NO, Vhagar! No! Serve me, Vhagar! No!"

The largest dragon known to the Targaryen world then dove off at a sharp angle, ignoring all commands her rider gave; leaving him struggling and dangling from his saddle as the storm swallowed them. In return, Arrax flew upwards with Luke; breaking through the dark clouds to reach the air above the storm, and for a brief moment, found the beauty in the bright sun above the clouds.

He looked around with heaving breath, praying to the Seven that they had evaded and gotten away from Vhagar - just seconds before the legendary beast was breaking out from the storm clouds to cut at another angle. When she did, she was in line with Arrax, and just as the young Prince Luke gave a shriek of fright, the pursing dragon had opened her jaws and swiftly chomped over the entire body of Arrax.

"VHAGAR!" Aemond's voice cracked with pure panic, feeling powerless on his dragon-mount. "No! No!" He muttered between clenched teeth when the truth of reality settled over him. Vhagar gave another bellow into the air, rightening her wings, and letting Aemond glance over her shoulder to spy the last bloody bits of Arrax' wings and tail-tip falling to the ground below.

As his head turned forward, Aemond's eye began to blink rapidly to restrain his immediate panic - fearing for the repercussions of his dragon, and how his loss of control was sure to be his fault.

= present // the Dragon Pit =

Your lungs protested for air as your heart felt like it was snapping in two, body numb as you could not believe the words that reached your ears. You had doubled over to cry into your pulled-in knees, sobbing helplessly as you rocked slightly to try and keep blood pumping. Your mind refused to accept your baby brother was dead and gone, but your mind screamed that your husband had killed him.

Yet you couldn't feel yourself anymore.

All you could understand was pain. Suffocating confusion.

And then, outrage set in.

"Why?" You demanded through your tears. "Why? Why would you fucking do this, Aemond? Oh, my God - what were you thinking!?"

"I do not know," he mourned quietly. "I am so sorry."

"He was a child," you wept, shaking there after when realization sunk in. "O-Oh, my God, I-I'm pregnant - t-the-they will - they will seek revenge through o-our children. Aemond, for all the Gods, wh-what have you done? What has Vhagar done?"

"The worst we can imagine," he admitted, tears streaming down his cheek. "I cannot express my guilt, my wife."

"For what?" You couldn't help but snap. "Because you fear for the rift it will put between us, or because you are truly sorry for the loss of your own nephew?"

Aemond nodded, whispering, "What if it is both?"

You whined and dropped your head back to your knees and arms. Kasta was heard growling when your sobs reached her, but she did not dare move from between you and Vhagar. It was like she could smell Luke's blood on Vhagar's lips and teeth, and she wanted to protect you from the discovery.

But you had begged Aemond to tell you the truth. You wanted to know... He warned you of the pain, and you still pushed.

And now you were left with the knowledge that your husband's dragon had eaten your baby brother. Luke: sweet, sweet Luke who could do no real harm - barring his adrenaline rush years ago when he used his brother's dagger to slash Aemond's eye out.

Barring that, and he was the sweetest boy who could do no harm!

You were confused and mortified, outraged, sad, overwhelmed, but so fucking regretful. Regret for not being there for him longer, and then guilt for leaving your little brothers. Never had you wanted the burden your mother bore, and luckily, after your marriage to Aemond, she focused 100% of her energy into grooming Jace as her heir.

And Luke was to be heir of Driftmark, the next (legitimate) Lord of the Tides! He was to learn to command a ship and once the Sea Snake was able, he'd learn the ways of the seas from the very best. He was a child who had his whole life ahead of him, leaving behind an older sister, unborn niece-or-nephew, young fiancé, older brother... Loving mother, devoted step-father.

All of whom would be devastated by this news.

How cruel this world was, and how cruel the Gods could be.

"Please," Aemond begged softly.

"What am I to do, Aemond?" You demanded, staring back at him with a range of emotion playing across your face. "My baby brother, Aemond, what am I to do?"

He shook his head, offering, "If you wish to leave, I will not stop you. I understand how this must make you feel and I would help you and Kasta get out best I can - "

"Aemond?" You snapped. "Am I to understand that you are to be away with me?"

He shook his head slightly, "Why would you stay?"

You scoffed, "Does my loyalty to you mean nothing? Why do you think I did not join Princess Rhaenys when she escaped? And stood on that fucking platform beside you, while they crowned your traitorous brother? Do you think so little of me?"

"But this is different," he argued, ignoring your insult.

"It is! It's much different! And I am devastated, heartbroken, and I would think my husband would want to support me - "

"Do you even want me, anymore?" He asked, brows crinkled as he wore desperation well.

"I am bound to you for life, I took vows... Whether I like it or not, my place has been, and is now, at your side. Your brother would sooner see me dead if I were to flee now - "

"I would never let him hurt you," Aemond insisted, letting his hand hold your cheek securely. "Should you wish to return to your mother's side, I understand, and at the least, I can make sure you get out of the city."

You let your lips roll between your teeth to bite for a moment, then spoke softly as you reached up to hold his wrist, "I am unsure what to feel or do. In a perfect world, what would you see us do now?"

"I never would've taken Vhagar out after Luke," he spoke, "so that we never would have to be here."

"Well, we cannot change the fact that your dragon disobeyed you, right?" He nodded stiffly. "You did not have control, did you?"

"I swear to all the Gods - Old and New - that I did not have control and that I tried to stop her best I could. Both Arrax and Vhagar broke free of our control, did their own bidding. Arrax only wanted to protect his master, and so did Vhagar after the fire..."

"So," you sniffled, eyes red and puffy to slowly pull his hand down to hold in his lap, "we can place no real blame on you... Save for your foolish and fucking childish pursuit that started all of it," you sighed, leaning back into the wall and closing your eyes. "Your dragon ate my brother, Aemond."

"I know..."

"She... Ate him," you repeated, knowing the words stung but for a moment, you wanted him to hurt as you did. "There is no body for us to burn! Nothing for us to mourn!"

"I know," he whispered again, leaning back to the wall beside you.

"What am I to do?" You begged, tears falling helplessly. "If I leave you now or ever, I will be a traitor to you and your family, but if I weren't to return to my mother's side, I would be branded a traitor to her and her allies. Please, Aemond. I don't know what to do."

He sighed, sniffling, "I do not know... But should you choose to stay, I promise not to abandon you. I wouldn't ever leave your side, I would be the husband who deserves a wife like you. It would be my duty to make sure your life is easier as you bring life into this world."

You nodded as you wrapped an arm around your swelling belly, "I'd really like for our kid to know their father."

Aemond sighed, pausing for a moment before admitting, "I'd like our child to know our love - not the deception my mother and brother show their spouses."

You nodded, leaning into his shoulder, "I'd like that, too."

"I need to ask the impossible of you, my love," he whispered into the top of your head. "And know that I am sorry for the pain it will cause."

You sighed in defeat and snipped, "Just ask it."

"Would you... Would you please stay?"

The silence almost echoed around you both; his question hanging in the air only to be punctuated by a warning growl from Kasta, watching a shifting Vhagar move for her alcove with the intention of rest. Your eyes flashed in the bright torchlight, and Aemond watched as tears filled them to slide silently down your cheeks. Then he turned his head, and caught sight of a splatter of blood on his dragon's lips, chin, and chest. The silence prolonged around her thundering steps.

•

[ in chronological order: When Pride Married Prejudice // WPMP part two // Petitions // Distraction // The Inky Green Council // Bearer of Bad News ]

The Inky Green Council

[ series masterlist at end ]

prompt: the Greens gather and make their first move. you’re the inky black spot in a sea of emerald.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.6k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, whatever else, not edited! canon-level incest, violence, dialogue, basically the whole of episode nine, author is also slightly confused 'cause she's working backwards. ❗️major season one, episode nine spoilers

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞 ❌ all taglists are discontinued❌

"Gods be fucking good!"

"Don't stop! C'mon, my Dragon, get there! Get there!"

"'S too much, love! Shit!"

"Bit longer - almost there!"

"Oh, fuck! C'mon!"

"THERE!" You grinned in triumph, pausing to pant when the new chase lounge was properly in place beneath the window. Aemond panted heavily after doing most of the lifting, almost glaring at you but you saw the amusement beneath his facade.

"You're sure?" He asked, slumping into the side of the lounge.

"Yep," you nodded at him, hands to your hips with pride as you looked at the new arrangement. "Or perhaps it would look better over there?" Aemond groaned your name with reprimand, making you giggle. "I am only jesting, love, I like it where it is, under the window!"

"Good, good, 'cause 's not moving again," he sighed as he dropped into the cushioned seat. He looked around for a moment, stroking the imported velvet, chuckling lightly, "You know, I must admit, kinda glad you talked me into this material."

"See?" You smiled at him, taking the comfortable position on your husband's lap - where the arm of the chase cradled your back and his ribcage; letting your legs rest across his lap as his arm wrapped around your shoulder blades. "Nice, isn't it?"

He sighed with defeat, "It is."

"Do not sound so grumpy, you can admit I had a good idea that you're actually liking," you teased him, arms moving to lock around his neck. "Hmm? C'mon, let me hear you say it."

Aemond chuckled, "It was a good idea, my love. Nicely done."

"Thank you," you chirped, leaning in to peck his smirking lips. "Just wait until you fuck me on it - there's plenty of positions on this piece of furniture alone. You're welcome in advance."

"Is that why it's shaped as it is?"

"Mhm," you hummed with a smirk. "It'll come in handy when I'm heavier with child."

"Why wait to test it, then?" He smirked, leaning in to trap your lips in a kiss. He hummed with satisfaction, savoring the taste of you after a long day and night.

"Because it is late, my sweet," you whined, letting him kiss you again.

"But you look delectable, my Princess," he purred, tugging your hips easily to swivel so you sat forward on him. His own lifted to allow you room; both readjusting to the new position of your straddle. Aemond sighed and let his hands drift to your stomach. "You're truly sure? This is not some dream we are sharing?"

"I would not have told everyone if I wasn't sure," you nodded, hands softly laying over his. "I've known for longer than I care to admit."

"You did not wish to tell me?"

"It's not that," you sighed. "I just worried myself for nothing. I let my own thoughts get the best of me, I know it was wrong. But the Maester told me something that I could not rid from my mind."

"Would you like to clue me in, or must we first play a guessing game?" He whispered with a smirk, chuckling lowly.

You scooted forward so your hips were pressed together, but kept his hands on your waist. He let his hands drift to caress your lower belly, and you admitted, "Apparently... If a woman is to lose a babe in the womb, it is usually often within the first three months of conception. So, I did not wish to tell you in case something happened and I... And I lost the babe. I don't think I could handle telling you I was with child, and then lost that child, Aemond."

Aemond's brows furrowed, making you reach up to caress his cheek. "But what if you had lost them, pet? I wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been able to help you."

"I don't know if you or I can help what happens," you whispered. "At this point, it's all internal and by the fate of the Gods. If you'd like, perhaps we could visit the Maester in the morning and we can discuss possibilities?"

"There are more?"

"There are many symptoms that even I did not know about," you chuckled lightly, reaching back to release his eye patch. You caressed his cheek with one hand as the other pulled the leather strap away, letting it fall to the cushion beside you both.

"Like what?" He sighed, doing better about being completely bare with you. It wasn't an overnight thing, and through your marriage, Aemond often waned in his comfort at letting you see his scars.

He was doing much better now, thankfully.

"Well, like, insomnia - "

"The bloody hell is that?"

"Thought you were the educated brother," you teased gently, leaning in to peck his lightly-pouting lips. "It is a new term, my love, even the Grand Maester was nervous to use it. But it in essence means trouble sleeping - either falling asleep, staying asleep, or both."

"Well, whenever my love needs a nap, she'll have one," he promised with a tease, pecking your lips.

"And there's accounts of nightmares," you pouted.

"Hmm," he considered for a moment. "Then you shall never sleep alone. I would not let you endure this by yourself."

You smiled at him. "And when I'm feeling bloated, and I'm having cramps or feeling gassy? With nosebleeds? When my skin turns to that of a young lad's? Not to mention I'll have heightened senses of smells, taste, touch..."

He shrugged, "You act as if I am going to turn away from you. You're creating life, my sweet girl. Whatever you need, I'm here for - even if that's just laying in bed and complaining. I'm okay with it."

You pouted dramatically at him, "How can you be real?"

His eyes rolled, "Well, 's not like you got pregnant by yourself, is it? Least I can do is be here for you. I cannot bare this weight for you," his hands caressed your stomach again, but with meaning, "but I will walk this path with you at whatever capacity you'd like. Ask it of me, pet, and you will have it."

"Careful, husband, or I might get used to your spoiling."

You grinned when Aemond blanched at you, hands dropping to bounce on the material of the chase lounge you sat on. "This wasn't spoiling enough to convince you? What of the gems that I wrap around your neck, hmm?" He let a hand drift up to pet a fingertip along your collarbone. "Do they convince you?"

"In honest, I think I prefer your hand, actually," you teased, taking hold of his wrist to guide him; where his finger naturally curled around your neck to press to your pulse points.

"Makes for a pretty necklace. But I prefer those pearls I got you."

"Oh," you gasped, pulling his hand away as he laughed at your change of attention, "those are exquisite - I should wear them more often!"

"You should," he agreed. "Now, are you truly tired? Or do you have more furniture we need to move?"

"You say that like I was the one who made the late-night delivery," you scoffed gently at him, watching his lips spread in a grin. "But be serious for a moment with me?"

He nodded in agreement, clearing his throat, "All right, about what, my sweet wife?"

"Seeing the Maester with me," you sighed. "We can both hear what he's to say about pregnancy, and perhaps, we can ask Helaena together about her own experience."

"I know parts of what to expect," he sighed.

"But then we'll know in full - eliminates surprises, right?"

"He'd still be at our call should we worry," he grumbled, letting his head lean back with a sigh. His eye closed and you leaned forward to nuzzle under his chin. "We'll seek him out in the morning, pet."

"Thank you," you whispered, turning your chin up so you could peck the underside of his own. "Does that mean bed?"

"Hmmm," he considered, but otherwise didn't move. So you didn't, either. His arms tightened, and you snuggled closer to let your thighs squeeze his hips in a hug. "All right," he finally relented, "you sure you don't want to break this new thing in?"

You chuckled, "Can I be on top?"

"Oh, you devilish woman - c'mere," he barked a quick laugh, using his hips to jut you upwards; one hand catching your cheek to guide your lips in for a soul-sucking kiss.

•

"No, no, no, no, Aemond, no, no, no, wait, no, wait, Gods damn it, why must you have the longest bloody legs!?" You leapt off the exam table, sparing a glare to the Grand Maester - who had just offered condolences on Aemond's Father's passing, which made the Prince spur from the room. "Aemond, wait! Hang on! Sweetheart? Hey - wait! No, just hang on, wait!" You begged, grabbing your outer dress on your pursuit after your husband. He was quick in his strides and his hands had formed into fists, making you yank the sleeves of your dress on but otherwise leave it as you reached for him. "Wait!"

"For what?" He demanded sharply, rounding around on you suddenly. You reared back a step or two - needing a second to readjust as you were not often on the receiving end of his anger.

"What the hell's happening?"

"What the hell is the bloody Maester on about!?" He countered. "You heard the same as I did - what inference would you assume?"

You sighed, taking both his wrists in yours as his fists refused to lessen. You whispered, "I would assume the King has passed, just as you, husband."

"Then we need confirmation," he decided, turning to head down the hall but with one hand lessening its tight fist to let your own slip into it. "I need to know - something's wrong, the castle's dark."

"I've noticed," you sighed, keeping stride with him and giving up hope to lace your dress up properly. "Who should we ask?"

"Mother," he decided, and after demanding from a few servants where she was after not finding her in her quarters, he was told she was seen heading for Heleana's room - and away you went.

Aemond was swift and got away from you when you were distracted in trying to thank the scared servants he cornered, and he arrived in the room first. You were just steps behind him, but he was only two strides through the door - froze in place - as he stared at his mother.

Based on the look she returned, Aemond understood the Maester's words were warranted - and condolences should be shared. "Aemond," you spoke softly, taking his hand in one hand as the other wrapped around his bicep. "W-We should leave them be, c'mon, love. Come with me," you tried to coax him but your mother-by-law was interfering.

"No," Alicent nodded to you, standing slowly. "There is something you three should know... Best we do it now, together..."

You sighed and let go of your husband to spy out the open door, finding the hall empty, and then shutting it firmly in place. "What is it, Your Grace?" You asked when you returned to your husband's side, whose arm slithered around your waist to constrict.

You let him, hoping your touch still brought him comfort.

"There is... Grieving news," she informed to three of you; hands nervously fiddling with themselves. "And I regret to inform you that Viserys," she paused, as if the words choked her, "h-has passed on in his sleep this night."

Your mind whirled with confusion - because wasn't your grandsire just fine when you saw him? Blinking a few times, you quickly looked up at your husband and let your free hand press into his abdomen. "Dead?" Helaena asked for clarification while Aemond stared at the ground with concentration.

"Yes, sweetling," Alicent nodded.

Your chin lifted deftly as you sensed the next words that were sure to come. And when the Queen met your eyes, and your husbands hand tightened on your waist, you knew.

"I must ask the impossible of you, dear girl," she nodded with meaning, "and this information must not leave this room - "

"You are questioning my wife's loyalty - again - now of all times?" Aemond snapped, making the arm around your waist tighten more - as if possible.

"Aemond, you must understand," Alicent begged, sighing heavily after. "This is of the utmost importance because Viserys implored to me his final, dying wish."

"And what was that?" Aemond asked stiffly.

"That Aegon be King," she revealed, and your heart turned to stone in your chest.

"I beg your pardon?" You couldn't help but utter. "The King... Viserys... On his death bed... Said for Aegon to be King? Not my Mother? Who's been heir for the past twenty-some years?"

"I know it is a shock," Alicent allotted.

"It is more than shocking, Your Grace," you whispered but your mind was playing catch-up with your heart - making you quick to recover. "It is hard to swallow this information so suddenly. But should you swear to me that this is true, I will do what I can to understand it."

"I swear it to you, Princess," she mustered. "And I know this news is heavy and grieving but I need to know where you stand on this. Here, and now."

You let your chin incline as her eyes bore into your own. "Before the Seven, I took vows to stand by my husband. That has not changed. Though it grieves me deeply to learn of my grandsire, and that my mother is to be replaced in succession, I will stand by him. Aemond is whom with my loyalty lies - like usual."

Alicent sighed as you felt Aemond's spine go rigid with pride.

"I would expect nothing less," She admitted with a nod. "Then forgive me for imploring again, but this news truly need not leave this room. Even to your mother, sweet girl," Alicent directed at you.

"Hmm," you mimicked your husband, feeling his hand flex with warning, "I did figure as much. I understand how pressing this is, Your Grace, this news will not fall from my hand - nor lips."

"Can we be done questioning my pregnant wife, now? Have we established her loyalty yet?" Aemond snipped, stepping between his mother and wife. Traditionally, that is a dangerous place to dwell and you did your best to keep him out of it. "What's to happen now? What are we to do - wait?" He asked, changing his tone, and the direction of the conversation.

"We cannot yet find Aegon, he's not in his chambers," Alicent informed nervously, starting to pace. "We need to locate him before anyone else - it is paramount."

"Who is looking for him?" You wondered.

"As of now, Ser Criston," she nodded, making you glance at Aemond.

"We will wait with you," he decided to his mother.

"I should go find the babies," Helaena distracted herself from her inner monologue, setting her stitch work aside.

"Do you wish for me to go or stay?" You whispered to Aemond in High Valyrian - knowing Alicent did not speak the language, nor understand it despite the years as 'being' a Targaryen.

"Always stay with me," he whispered back as his sister hurried out the door. Aemond sighed when he watched his mother pace, leading you towards the hearth. "Sit, love," he nodded towards one of the chairs. "Get off your feet a moment."

"No, 's all right," you assured, gently pressing his chest so he sat in the chair just behind him. You smiled at him as you finally had time to do-up your dress at last, one of his hands lingering by your thigh to reach out and graze against you at will.

Should you need him, he was there to assist you; maybe to provide a pressing finger to allow for a perfect bow from your laces, maybe just to nod in approval when you turned in presentation. He did so with a smirk of mild amusement.

As the morning slugged forward, you and Aemond waited with the Queen for Ser Cole to return. He waited in the chair, staring into the fire with contemplation as his fingers teased your own; mindlessly fiddling as you chose to remain standing.

When the door opened, Cole entered silently and made the Queen turn in question from her pacing. You watched silently as Aemond continued to stare forward, mutely pressing a lingering kiss to the back of your hand that he held. "Prince Aegon's not to be found within the castle walls, Your Grace," Cole informed as he shut the door. Stepping forward, he continued, "Your father has sent Ser Erryk into the city to find him."

Aemond listened to the words, his fingers stalling between yours.

"Ser Erryk knows Aegon. He has the advantage," The Queen muttered in despair.

Your eyes narrowed when Cole's head turned to look directly at your husband, who's head tilted in the slightest to clock the Knight's motion and then turn back to the flames. Your free hand rose to slide into the hair at the base of Aemond's neck.

Neither of you spoke with words as your glare hardened into your husband's the moment his eyes rose to meet yours, truly not wanting him to go looking for his brother on some wild goose chase. Maybe you just did not want to be left behind, but his gaze did not linger and soon, returned to the flames for stoic consideration.

Alicent approached Cole with a rush to her step, lowering her voice, and telling him, "I trust again to you, Ser Criston, and to your loyalty. Aegon must be found, and he must be brought to me. The very fate of the Seven Kingdoms depends on it." You wanted to throw your shoe at her head - knowing she was consciously usurping the Throne from your mother but for your life's sake, you would play along. Plus, as all kids, your husband was his mother's pawn, caught in this brewing war that was not truly his own. You could not abandon him; and could never convince him to leave his family or the cause, so, for now, you listened and made your mental notes. Alicent whispered, "Everything you feel for me as your Queen..."

"I will not fail you," Cole assured with determined adoration.

"I'll come with you," your husband decided from his seat still; making your eyes widen, fingers to tighten in his, and for your head to snap down to look at him.

"That would not be my desire, Aemond," Alicent told him, turning for her son.

"Nor my own," you told your husband pointedly, watching him swiftly stand from the ornate chair. You sighed and let him turn for his mother, glaring into the fire with hands on your hips.

"If anything has happened - "

"Cole needs me, Mother," Aemond cut her off, arms laying over one another to grasp the other's elbows. "Ser Erryk isn't the only one who knows Aegon's doings." You wanted to scoff with indignation, but Aemond smirked wider, "Besides, my wife grows restless and will accompany us. She knows this city best."

Alicent turned her head to look from you over to Cole, who nodded with acceptance - understanding she was silently asking him to watch over you both, because while you didn't always like it, Alicent treated you as a part of the family after needing time and reason to warm up to you. Aemond's eye did not stray from his mother as she weighed in her mind the options; second son waiting for approval and leave.

When his mother nodded mutely, he returned the motion before sighing and letting go of her with one final look. His eye darted up to meet your own while offering his hand, "C'mon, love. With me."

You didn't get to say anything to Alicent as the moment Aemond's hand was in yours, he was pulling you to stalk out of the room so you could prepare yourselves for a search around the city for the 'heir' to the Iron Throne. Now that Viserys was gone, it was optimal time for Aegon's ascension as the realm cannot be without a ruler.

"What was that?" You asked in High Valyrian under your breath as Cole followed you both at a distance.

"That was me getting you out from under the castle's spies eyes. You're safest with me, my love," he answered in the Common Tongue.

"Say 'castle's spies eyes' five times fast and I'll suck your cock right here, right now," You teased, eyes rolling with humor when his gait faltered slightly - making Cole offer only a mild look of confusion. "I'm only jesting, my Gods, Aemond!"

"Hmm," he perked a single brow, leading the way into your room; slamming the door. You both changed quickly as Cole made himself presentable for the adventure - leaving your husband to sigh into the privacy of your shared quarters, "We'll need your help, love."

"We both know the back allies," you shrugged meekly, lacing on a simple dress that wouldn't accentuate your figure - allowing you to blend in with the crowds and people of the capital. With a hooded cloak and laced boots, you were ready; briefly reminded of your youth when you liked to sneak out and mingle amongst the people. "We'll make do with us two."

"But you know them best."

You nodded, "This might be true... But there's one problem, love."

"What?"

"The White Worm."

He sighed through his nose but did not otherwise respond.

•

Cole had chuckled earnestly when Aemond all but instantly bought you something to eat; keeping an arm around you as you picked at the sweetly baked bread to pop pieces in your mouth. Your husband knew you well, and he knew how to keep you both close and occupied - avoiding any idea of you wondering off.

Look, sometimes you got distracted, okay? Not your fault that you - sometimes - went off trail. It wasn't a crime!

And with your pregnancy nose and belly, you had been caught once or twice sneaking into the kitchens because you smelled the freshly baked goodies. So, Aemond, The Good Husband, bought from a vendor, and handed it over to you before taking the lead - ensuring he could keep you within his hold.

"Where to first?" Cole wondered, readjusting his stitched cap as he grew restless of not knowing their destination. The Knight did not often patrol the city after his promotion to King's Guard - then to Queen's Guard - but whatever.

Some disguise is was.

Yet it wasn't much better than your husband - who was always recognizable due to your little brother maiming him almost a full decade ago. He only wore a muted color hooded cloak over his white locks; something unwittingly similar to you.

Couples that match together, stay together. It's proven.

Through a mouth of sweet bread, you offered, "Pabably the Stweet of Swilk."

"Oh, my Gods," Aemond whispered, tightening his arm as you snickered gently. To Cole, he directed, "Aegon brought me to the Street of Silk," he enunciated, making you silently mock him, "on my thirteenth nameday. It was his duty as my brother, he said, to ensure I was as educated as he was."

Your eyes rolled at Cole when you three came to a halt at an intricately carved door, and your husband took hold of the large, iron knocker. He paused to spare Cole a look, finishing his thought, "At least... That's what I understood him to mean."

He used the knocker to rap three times as you took another distracting bite, stood perfectly between the men, and looking between them with mild interest.

"I don't follow," Cole responded.

"He said, 'Time to get it wet'," Aemond leaned in to tell Cole, chuckling dryly when your hand swung to jab into his shoulder.

You swallowed your bite just to reprimand, "That's disgusting."

"Every woman is an image of the Mother, to be spoken of with reverence," Ser Criston Cole replied as if it were a rehearsed response, looking around you three with caution before reaching for the iron knocker and rapping three more times.

Impatient, are we?

You glared at Aemond and pointed at Cole, "That's a man's response."

"Oh, do I offer you insult, wife?" He teased, making your eyes roll with humor.

When the doors opened, you looked the woman up and down as she asked, "What can I do you lot for? You lost or something?"

"Or something," you replied first with a smirk.

Criston Cole took the lead, "Sometime last night, we... Misplaced our drinking companion. Knowing that he has been, in the past, a patron of your fine establishment, we thought to inquire here as to his whereabouts."

But the woman eyed you all with mistrust before demanding of Cole, "And describe him."

"That is a delicate matter," Cole informed quietly. With a glance to your husband, Cole leaned in to mutter in the Mistress' ear, "You see, the man we seek is the young Prince Aegon. And I may trust, I hope, in the discretion of your trade."

You took another bite of sweet, baked bread as the Woman of the House scoffed softly through her nose, informing you three, "The Prince is not here."

After you swallowed, you asked, "Has he been here, Lady? Earlier, perhaps?"

"Quite a bit earlier," she told you. "Years ago, in fact."

"Hmm," you shrugged a bit, sharing a look with your husband.

"But more recently?" Cole demanded, understanding the games being played. It was known the Prince Aegon had insatiable desires; and King's Landing was flush with little white-haired bastards.

"He does not frequent the Street of Silk," the Mistress informed stiffly. "His tastes are known to be... Less discriminating."

"Meaning what?" Cole asked what you all wondered.

Instead of answering, the Mistress smirked and tisked her teeth lightly. "I wish you luck, good Ser. And my best to your friend," she pointed to Aemond before she even turned her head.

You watched his head bow under her heated gaze, understanding if there was one weak spot of your husband's, it was anything pertaining to his appearance. He was vastly insecure since the loss of his eye, and any sort of unsavory attention on him made his stomach quiver gently.

You cocked your head, taking another slow bite as Cole turned and stalked away, and the Mistress eyed your husband, purring, "How you've grown."

With perked brows, you paused to blink away the shock and then bite your bread to hold between your teeth; freeing your hands to literally shove the Lady of the House back behind the threshold and then yank the wooden door shut with a clang while yelling some obscenity that was only vaguely understood.

"Hmm," your husband hummed when you snatched his hand, turning to lead you both after Cole. "Jealousy's not a good look to wear, my sweet wife."

You grumbled and ripped the bread from your mouth to chew as his arm came around to secure your shoulders. "And now?" Cole asked.

"We follow her," Aemond nodded, letting you take the lead.

Cole nodded, following beside your husband. "It seems you were mistaken as to Aegon's habits."

Your eyes rolled, "Or perhaps the citizens of King's Landing are loyal to their own - especially those who pay their dues."

"He could be in the hands of mercenaries," Aemond listed, "on a ship to Yi Ti. He could be dead."

You eyed the people you passed by, listening to the two men just behind you. Cole responded, "Let us hope, for your Mother's sake, that is not the case."

You peered down alleyways in search for the slumped-over Prince.

But Aemond grew irritated the further into the city you passed, snipping, "Here I am, trawling the city, ever the good soldier in search of a wastrel who's never taken half an interest in his birthright."

Both you and Cole had to pause in step to turn back when Aemond came to a halt in the middle of the walkway, almost seeing the steam rising from him as his anger stewed. "'Tis I the younger brother, who studies history and philosophy, 'tis I who trains with the sword, who's married to a proper Lady, who rides the largest dragon in the world. 'Tis I who should be - "

"Hush yourself, now, you speak dangerously, my love," you insisted, stepping closer to him. "Aemond," you sighed with reverence, knowing his pain and irritation. Though you had no desire to be queen, you knew your husband often let his mind blur with anger over how often he's overlooked. "This is not always to be our struggle. Hey? This will not always be reality, but for now, it is your brother's and we have responsibilities to uphold."

Cole nodded, stepping up behind you as you smoothly folded into Aemond's side - the Knight assuring, "I know what it is to toil for what others are freely given."

"Hmm," your husband considered, lip curling; head turning to direct his attention to the side. "And we can't find him, Cole. You are a decent man with no taste for depravity." This made Criston look around the alley for spying ears; something you often worried over. "His secrets are his own... And he's welcome to them." Though, you did not anticipate the next moves; stepping back when Aemond neared his mouth towards Cole's ear, muttering, "I'm next in line for the Throne. Should they come looking for me, I intend to be found."

You sighed through your nose and forced yourself to walk away, still looking for your brother-by-law. Your anger bubbled as you had to play the loyal fool; but the truth was, any talk of stealing your mother's Throne made you uneasy. Yet with your husband, you could not hide away any emotion for he always saw through you, and moments later, his hand slid into your own.

You tightened your grip to assure him you were still with him. He could feel the tension, and something in his gut prickled to fix it.

"A moment, Ser Cole," Aemond nodded to the Knight; making you pause before you could exit the alley.

Cole looked you both over before agreeing with a nod, moving several feet away; and for Aemond to turn so he hovered over you. "You're tense," he noted.

"You speak dangerously," you muttered.

"I speak truth."

"You speak of usurping the Throne," you snipped, "something I'd rather you leave to your brother. You're not wrong, my husband, and you are the better fit from Aegon, but that does not make any of this right. My mother is the rightful heir, and you know it - deep down, I know you do."

"Yet neither of us dare speak it now," he muttered.

"So instead you speak of taking the Throne for yourself?" You demanded harshly. "Gods be good, Aemond. I did not think you daft! Aegon is next in line, and whether he wants it or not, your family intends to instate him over my mother. You and I are both bound by law, obedience, loyalty, and duty to stand at their side - less we risk death. Less we risk execution. Please, do not let us talk of this longer than we must - it will not be the resolve we want."

He sighed and his eye dropped to soak you in. "You'd make the most perfect fucking Queen."

"And you a just King, but that is not the reality we live in right now. If we want to see tomorrow, you and I are to play a part."

He nodded, licking over his lips, "My words are safe with you?"

"As mine are with you - but speak no more to Ser Cole. Please. For my sake at the very least. I cannot say what he would keep secret, and I do not wish to risk us further than we are."

He nodded, sighing, "He's chalked it up to sibling rivalry I'm sure."

"With reason," you nodded. "Just tread lightly, my love."

Aemond nodded again, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, pet."

"I'm always here for you," you promised softly, lacing your hand with his. "But for now, let us try to locate your fucking brother."

He let you turn the pair of you to continue onward. Cole joined you both, and as a trio, scoured the streets for the white-haired Prince. Through alleys, around turns, over courtyards - you all traveled, in the hopes of locating the Prince before the Hand's party finds him.

However, some hours into your search, you came to a halt with a suspicious Aemond behind Ser Cole - who was staring off into the crowd of one of the local taverns. "My Prince, my Princess," he spoke softly, earning both your attentions. He nodded pointedly, and as you rocked onto your toes for a vantage point, both you and Aemond made out the bodies of Ser Erryk, twin brother, Arryk, and the Hand of the King - Otto Hightower - talking to the White Worm.

"Oh, that's interesting," You smirked to the lads, making them both look to you.

"What is?" Cole asked.

You decided to keep the information on the mysterious woman to yourself for now, replying, "It looks like a meeting of sort. They're buying information, and we know who the Hand seeks..."

"They're buying Aegon's location," Aemond nodded.

"We'll follow them," you smirked, landing back on your flat feet. When one of the twins offered the woman in royal silks a sack full of money, your smirk widened, "See? Work smarter, lads, never harder. C'mon, this way," you crept around the tavern, keeping them close to the walls as you yourself blended in much better. You risked getting closer, busying yourself amongst the people, and just as you thought the White Worm spotted you, she was revealing the Prince's location.

The Knighted Twins were sent to collect the Prince, and you hurried back to Cole and Aemond - snagging both of their wrists as you sped past them. "Hang on!" Aemond snipped, hustling to follow you. "What's going on?"

"The Prince is being held in the Sept, and if we're smart," you quipped back over your shoulder, letting them go to follow on their own, "they will retrieve the Prince and we'll steal him away. Come now."

Aemond smirked at Cole as you lead them down new passage ways - leading with confidence because now that you had a definitive destination in mind, you could easily navigate the complex city to cut down on time.

"How is it you know the city so well?" Cole wondered.

You mused, "You know how I was as a child."

He snorted, "Unruly."

"I prefer rebellious, Ser," you corrected with a sharp glance. "I believed in knowing the people you're to govern, so, I would wonder the streets on sleepless nights."

"She cannot be stopped," Aemond shrugged after. "Best to just follow her now."

Cole nodded and around bends you went. Eventually, you arrived at the Sept, and peered around. "Stay here," you spoke to the two. "I'll see if they're in."

"And if they are?" Cole asked.

"Then I'll signal to you and just blend in," your eyes rolled. "This is not my fight, this is where you two come in. So, make yourselves scarce from sight. We'll have the element of surprise."

"Pending you're not seen," Cole snipped.

"Do not underestimate my wife, Cole," Aemond stepped in, hand moving to your waist to stand chest-to-chest with you. Cole actually backed off a step when he noted the matching glares.

"My Prince," he grumbled, nodding with agreement before turning away.

Aemond sighed through his nose as he peered over your head for a moment, surveying up the stairs to the Sept. "Be quick and unseen," he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead. "And be careful," his hand moved to hold the small bulge of your lower belly.

"Mhm," you agreed against his lips, pressing another quick kiss. Turning, you hustled up the stairs and only felt mildly winded when you reached the landing. With a skeptical, heavy glance around, you noted the positions of everyone before moving for the doors of the holy building. You were only there a moment before catching sight of the Knighted Twins wrangling Aegon in - rushing back for the stone banister to give a low twiddling whistle.

Aemond recognized it and nodded to Cole.

You remained at the bannister, busying yourself and not looking back when you heard the grunting of Aegon and Arryk. You only stepped back, the three not even glancing your way, and offering you a front row seat to the impending battle. Only, you weren't alone as Cole stepped out from his place and your husband rose silently from his hidden crouch; Cole's sword extended as he spoke, "I do regret this, friend."

You laughed quietly when the tension filled stalemate turned tides when Aegon shoved an elbow to Arryk's stomach - making him release the Prince. From there, it was Cole against Arryk and Aemond against Aegon - both parties eventually making it down the stone stairs.

"Princess," A voice muttered, making you look up.

"Ser Erryk," you nodded. "You're not eager to join in?"

"No," he watched with you from the top of the stairs. "I do have conflicting feelings regarding matters."

"Over?"

"The progression of things," he muttered.

"You would support my Mother, would you?"

"I believe I would, after what I've come to witness," he admitted softly. "And yourself? You're Green now?"

"I bleed Black, my good Ser, do not mistake that," you hushed. "But if I am to survive with my husband, I have a part to play... Though... Something tells me you are sooner to see her."

"If I am... Would you have a message?"

Your chin inclined discreetly, "That my blood runs hot and Black. Tell her I remember our House words, and I would never abandon her. She will understand."

"I will, Princess."

"And that I love her. Remind her, Ser Erryk, if you see her before I do," you rushed now, feeling emotion swell in your chest.

"Princess," he agreed. "In the mean time, should you need my service - "

"There is something else," you nodded to him, the men still distracted enough to allow you brief privacy.

"ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME!?" Arryk demanded of his brother, your form hidden by the towering stone stairs Arryk stood under.

"Name it," Erryk muttered, keeping an eye on the battle.

"The Princess Rhaenys is locked in her room," you muttered. "She is not to be harmed, I'd see her out of the city. If you get the Queen Who Never Was out of the city, Ser, I will be forever indebted."

"It would bring me honor to do the right thing," he admitted. "I will do what I can, Princess."

"Thank you, Ser," you whispered.

"LET ME GO! BROTHER!"

"Go," you ushered, breaking apart from the Knight as Aegon yelled and thrashed in Aemond's arms.

"LET ME GO!" Aegon sobbed. "I HAVE NO WISH TO RULE!"

Cole had disarmed Arryk and taken his sword, you sweeping past the pair to approach the quarreling, platinum-blonde brothers.

"No taste for duty!" Aegon continued. "I'm not suited!"

Your husband voiced your same thoughts, "You'll get no argument from me."

You might've actually felt bad for the Prince as Aemond turned Aegon to face him, and Cole took your flank. The Prince Aegon begged his brother, "Let me go," he grabbed both of Aemond's cheeks, "I will find a ship and sail away, never to be found."

Knowing he was next in line, Aemond actually faltered as he considered the idea - but his eye cut over, and caught the shake of your head. He looked silently back to a hopeful-Aegon, and found no answer. Cole stepped away from you to wrap his arm around the future King's shoulder, informing, "The Queen awaits."

Seeing the physical anger as Aegon's hands shook while squeezing your husband's cheeks, you stepped up, "Aegon, do not. Fate has a way of finding us all, it is not so easy to sail away from. Let go - now."

He did not look away from his brother, but he did let go; only to push Cole's arms off him and stalk away - your feet stepping back to give him a wide berth of range. When away, you swiftly stepped up into Aemond's chest, and like his brother, took his cheeks in hand to force his eye to yours.

Before you could say anything, he only leaned down to press a suffocating kiss to your lips as his hand rose to hold your cheek and jaw. He paused to breath against you, foreheads resting together to let you breathe one another in. "Hey, hey," you hushed against his lips, petting his cheek with near desperation, "stay with me now. Do not get lost in your head, stay with me."

He nodded, pressing another reassuring kiss to your lips before whispering, "I'm with you, my love."

"Good," You sighed, taking his hand with yours, "because we need our wits about us in the coming days."

Aemond silently agreed, letting you pet a few stray, fly-away hairs back into place before he turned you to follow him - leading you both off in pursuit of his brother and Mother's guard.

•

You watched him for a time, just content to study his profile as you poured you both goblets of wine. He had been silent since returning from the streets of King's Landing; since finding his brother, ready to stow away and run away from your Mother's birthright.

"Here, love," You whispered, having watched his left hand flex in contemplation. He mutely looked up and accepted the wine, eye drifting back to the flames. You gently prodded him until both feet were flat to allow you room to slide onto his lap; sighing as you settled, asking gently, "Where are you, right now?"

His frowned deepened, eye raking over your face as he considered his answer. "In truth, the past..."

"All right," You sighed, leaning into his chest as one arm stretched to lay across his shoulders as the other brought the goblet to your lips. "Take me there with you, where in the past are you?"

He sighed, "All over, sweet girl. There is much on my mind."

"Over Aegon's words?"

"And actions..."

You nodded softly, curling a strand of hair behind his ear. "What do they make you think?"

"That I should've strangled him years ago," He sighed, taking a gulp of wine. With his lips brushing the rim of the goblet, he muttered, "Much would be different now. Perhaps I think of what could have been, should I of chose different."

You paused to let his words and emotions simmer, nodding slowly, asking, "Do you think much would be different with us?"

He snorted through his nose, "Not in the least bit."

"Oh?" You purred with a smirk, letting your lips pucker on his temple.

"Your brother had claimed my eye," he nodded with a small smirk, "at least, by the time I genuinely considered smothering the drunken fool, we were already engaged."

"Hmm," you mulled over, letting the arm around his shoulders flex gently to bring your hand to his cheek.

He swallowed another gulp of sweet wine. "Perhaps, if I'd been more of a man then, we'd not be here now."

"Funny you think you weren't man enough, even after what Luke did. I don't know grown men today who could handle what you endured. Funny you think you were man enough, yet at only age ten, you became dragonrider to Vhagar - largest in the world. You've always been man enough, Aemond, but you're not ruthless. No matter how you might think, you're not like your brother."

He smirked gently, "I ever tell you how perfect you are for me?"

"Hmm... Not today," You smirked, hearing him chuckle briefly. It was better than his suffocating silence.

But the silence fell again as he became lost to his thoughts. "Would you still love me?" He asked softly. "If I were King?"

"I do not think there are many scenarios for us to endure that I might love you less," you assured, knowing he needed the reassurance in this moment. "What you and I have, Aemond, is not conditional. I do not love you with terms, be assured that in any lifetime, I'd have you - and love you, still." You sighed against his temple, whispering, "Look at me, please."

His head tilted to gently drag the tip of your nose across his skin; letting you lean back to take him in, in full.

"You were raised with only a Mother's love," you whispered, "and were conditioned to believe you were not worthy of it. But you are, my sweet husband. You're worthy of love, and I've plenty to give."

He sighed, breath fanning against your lips, "What an honor to receive it."

Your smile was warm and never faltered - even when you leaned in for a kiss. In that moment, in your bubble, Aemond felt safe; and in a desperate moment, his forehead met yours as two tears fell in rapid succession. You let him grieve whatever was, what could have been; the privacy of your rooms and warmth of your embrace provided him a safe place to emote - and though he was in no way a master of it, he was getting better.

Your empty goblets made it to a table's top to rest, your arms tight as his head rested in the crook of your neck and shoulder; hand splayed across your lower belly to let his thumb sweep in comfort.

•

"You're fidgeting," Aemond muttered.

"I cannot help it, this is wrong," you whisper-hissed back; shifting in your spot to once more brush out the skirts of your black gown.

He sighed, pecking your temple, and whispered, "Please, my love."

You did your best to quell your nerves, but with the whole of King's Landing being ushered like cattle into the Dragon Pit, you could not help it. You were expected to stand by your husband (as if Aemond would ever allow you to stand elsewhere), beside the soon-to-be Queen; watching your brother-by-law be crowned King.

Oh, how wrong this was - but you could not stop it.

Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, called above the gathering crowd, "People of King's Landing... Today is the saddest of days. Our beloved King... Viserys the Peaceful... Is dead."

You listened to the shocked mutterings flood from the capital’s residents - their eyes turning beady the longer they stared at you. Your chin lifted, and Aemond's hand deftly rubbed along your waist.

Above them all, you stood on a platform dressed in your House colors. You did not speak as Otto called, again, "But it is also the most joyous of days... For as his spirit left us...! He whispered his final wish: that his firstborn son, Aegon," you tightened your own hold on your husband in support, "should succeed him!"

Your breaths were held as the crowd rumbled in conversation - but a collective exhale heaved when they started to applaud in approval. Your jaw steeled, these foolish citizens not realizing in truth they were supporting a stolen Throne to a child-playing-man. Guards marched through the crowds and forced a path that lead up to the stage you were stationed on.

As the trumpets blew, Aemond muttered in your ear, "Here comes our new King."

"Ease yourself," you hushed him, offering a look of understanding before facing forward again.

"Present... ARMS!" And a choir of sword sung as they were unsheathed and held above the soldiers heads to form a pathway for Aegon to walk under.

You could only keep track of Aegon through the crowd because after he passed each soldier, their swords swung in punctuation after him. You shuffled a half step closer to Aemond; an arm around his back to hold your anchor as your other hand laid against his stomach for balance. His arm tightened almost subconsciously around you, ensuring your proximity, but did not otherwise move.

"It is your good great fortune," Otto called again, "and privilege... To be here to witness this: a new day for our city... A new day for our realm. A new King... To lead us!" Aegon reached the end of the procession, each sword down - before swinging back up in salute.

Dare you say it, but Aegon looked positively seething to climb the stage stairs to meet the royal procession. Swords were sheathed as Aegon reached the top of the stairs to stand before his Mother and grandsire; the latter stepping back.

As Queen Regent, Alicent stepped forward to kiss her eldest son's forehead - a public sign of love, respect, and support - before she guided him to step up in his place. Your mother-by-law turned, then, to step back aside.

The guards all moved in sync - moved into position as their new task to guard the King. Otto stepped towards Aegon and gave one, single, meaningful nod; stepping back in time for Aegon to sink to his knees.

You watched the coronation with something akin to burning anger dissolving your gut - unsure what to make of the situation you bore witness to. Yet, like your husband, you've mastered the stoic position and look - and did not let your façade fade the longer you stood there. Aegon was the first born son... And even you, a student of history, could not dispute his claim.

Aegon the Elder was anointed in oils, words of blessing spoken over him and his reign. You silently prayed that it was not for long. Your husband had stood with his blind eye to his brother, not wanting to break his pride to turn and look; but his sister did. You, like your husband, just stared forward with obedience as you truly did not want to watch the Septon give his blessing.

However, as if connected by a string, both you and your husband's heads turned to watch the Septon step back and for Ser Criston to take up the crown and turn to the knelt boy. To the crowd, he explained, "The Crown of the Conqueror, passed down through generations."

Cole brought the crown to Aegon's head, and your hands tightened on your husband's torso when you clocked his unwavering glare. The siblings seemingly switched places, and now it was Helaena who could not bare to watch any longer as Aemond's eye never once lifted from his brother.

It was hard to read what he felt, but by the tight squeeze of his hand, you knew it was not positive.

"Let the Seven bear witness: Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne," Cole announced, and you swore you felt the burning glares of a few court and crowd members fall over you - your obvious lineage now posing problem.

Aemond's head bowed to look down at you, your eyes locking for a long moment as the Septon helped Aegon to his feet while the crowd stewed on what they just witnessed. The holy man bowed first and as Aegon's eyes moved, everyone bowed with respect. Your hand had to discreetly nudge Helaena's elbow, but she, too, gave a short curtesy.

Aegon's eyes cut into yours, and for a moment, you considered showing defiance in support of your mother, but knew better than to tempt fate. It was bad enough you wore black on such a day instead of a supportive green, but you liked to dress to match your husband. So, with stiff knees, you let yourself only just barely curtesy to the new (false) King. Aemond gave a single, swift nod of his head - and his brother did not dare ask for more.

Otto gave the final bow, and the High Speton offered his arm in presentation as he announced to the thick crowd, "All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men," Aegon only then started to slowly turn to face 'his' people for the first time, "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!"

It was deathly quiet.

"Aegon the King!" Criston Cole called, rallying the crowd into an uproar of cheering, applause, and approval.

"Fucking sheep," you muttered in judgement, words drowned out as Aegon boasted in the glory of being King.

Aemond sighed against your forehead before kissing the top of your head - something only Otto seemed to notice. But the attention was drawn by Aegon pompously brandishing his sword, encouraging the crowds again. You noticed the way Helaena twitched and worried as you knew of the girl's visions, reaching for her as she turned towards you and Aemond - your husband between you still.

With an arm around your stoic husband, your other reached for the girl's forearm, "Are you all right, Heleana?" You hushed.

But her eyes only closed with concentration. You released her from your hold, the crowds chanting their support; and your worried gaze met your husband's. Just then, as your mouth opened to voice concern, the middle of the Pit's floor exploded in a hurricane of rocky debris. Your husband swiftly yanked you across his body to push you closer to his sister and turning to attempt to shield you both, but hunched slightly over you as the dust mushroomed around you.

Both his arms were tight around your torso, but none of you could look away - making out the sight of the Red Queen, Meleys, sweeping her mighty tail around citizens, taking out whoever she could in an effort to satisfy her bloodthirsty rider.

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen - freed by Ser Erryk by your command.

"Aemond," you shuddered as the ground trembled.

"I've got you, I've got you," he assured swiftly and you felt Heleana cowering lightly into your back. Aemond's eye swept over you in concern, pulling you flush against him as his body was used to shield you still; one of his hands dropping to lay protectively over your belly.

Chaos rained around you; screams of people drowned by the threatening growls of the mighty dragon. Then, she gave a shrieking bellow that only echoed in sound around you; and your hands tightened on your husband. Ser Crsiton had the Queen Regent covered as Aemond seemingly had you and Helaena; but you knew little could be done for your stepmother and company should Rhaenys utter that famous word.

That very word that would drown you all in dragon fire.

But this was a war to be fought with Fire and Blood, you were prepared for the carnage to follow. Yet your only instinct now was to not just cling to Aemond in an effort to keep him close, but cover the innocent, sweet new (false) Queen Heleana. As the great dragon started to move, people were trying to climb their way out of the Pit - but little could be done for them now.

"Th-They're closing the doors," you called down the way when you noticed it. "The people will suffer - they're closing the doors!"

Otto heard your words over the screams of terror and tried to roar over them all, "OPEN THE DOORS!" But the doors were still closing on people trying to flee - and the Hightowers knew that Rhaenys would escape one way or another. "OPEN THE DOORS!"

Rhaenys turned from behind her to note the narrowing escape to glare at the Royals beneath her - her eyes skating over you to land on Alicent. The Queen Regent then boldly pushed from Ser Criston, giving the command, "Get Helaena," as she moved for her crowned son. Standing before Aegon the Second, Green faced the Red Queen.

Aemond turned to push you and his sister behind his body in full; standing to face the towering, growling dragon that neared the platform to leer in all your faces. You held a hand to his waist to assure him of your position whilst his hands were held in use of defense - should need be.

Though, you wondered what he could truly do against Meleys.

No words were exchanged; Alicent only bent her head in submission, but the great red-scaled dragon only gave another bellow - but no flames. Your husband's head bowed to endure the stream of hot air blown across you all, one hand holding your sister-by-law's, and the other keeping tight hold of Aemond as his body protected yours.

Yet, in the end, you all opened your eyes to spy Rhaenys spare Alicent one last scorching glare before turning her dragonmount and rushing for the still-opened doors.

There was a collective shudder across the lot of you, and Aemond turned at once to take your face in his hands. He nodded once, brows crinkling in concern; making you lay a hand over his, assuring, "I'm okay. I'm all right."

"The babe?" He asked in a hush, Alicent checking over Aegon to then rush for her daughter.

"We're both all right," you promised, hand almost slapping over his own that laid to your womb. His gaze turned back towards the doors, ushering you to his chest; both of your gazes watching the fleeing dragon that bore a vengeful, hotheaded rider... A rider who would bare your messages to your mother and inform her of the truth.

A rider who you would meet again in open battle.

•

[ in chronological order: When Pride Married Prejudice // WPMP part two // Petitions // Distraction // The Inky Green Council // Bearer of Bad News ]

Distraction

[ series masterlist at end ]

prompt: at a rare family dinner, you have news for your husband.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.9k+

note: i didn't want to like him but the pirate baby war criminal does something to me. damn. has the potential to turn into a series, i don't know yet.

warnings: cursing, spoilers, Aemond being a little shit, basically the dinner scene with Aemond's wife. canon-level incest (?) and dialogue. not edited!! ❗️major season one, episode eight spoilers

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞 ❌ all taglists are discontinued

"How's this?" You asked Amira, your handmaiden, showing her the sixth dress you've tried on. You observed all angles of yourself in the mirror, smoothing over the material of your dress in worry.

"I like it better," she nodded, admiring your figure. "And you can't even tell you're hiding - "

"Mira," you warned, sighing sharply.

"When are you going to tell him, my Lady?" She demanded, helping you into your shoes as you fixed jewelry around your neck, wrist, ears, and fingers. "It's killing me!" She whined lowly.

"Soon, Mira," you rolled your eyes.

"You've been saying that for a month, and now you're starting to show!" She snipped, hands on her hips. "He's not stupid - "

"He's been distracted as of late," your eyes rolled. "He is not paying attention to me right now, I've time to think."

"I beg to differ, but sure, let's be ignorant."

"Mira," you sighed, or more like whined. Your head tilted back and you sighed sadly, pinning her with an exasperated look.

"I'm being honest, Princess, and I'm telling you the Prince absolutely adores you. How he's not noticed yet is beyond me."

You sheepishly admitted, "I might've... Lied a wee bit."

"And said what?"

"I was bloated from bad fish and my cycle," you shrugged. "He doesn't know much different, and he's been coming to bed in exhaustion that he doesn't much stay awake to notice my growing figure."

"Well," she sighed, hands slapping her thighs as she shrugged with defeat, "this dress hides everything better, it fits nice. It's a winner for tonight's dinner... Just - "

"Don't eat too much," You ended for her, smirking. "I know... I know."

"You should just tell him, Princess. Rid us of this game, please."

"I will..."

"He has the right to know," she whispered.

"He will - just once I figure out what to do."

"What do you - "

"Once I figure out how to be okay with this," you sighed sadly. "Look... I just... Aemond doesn't seemed thrilled by the idea of being a father but his mother insisted on lineage. He only did his duty," you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers as emotion caught in your throat, "and I'm nervous to tell him, because... T-Then it's over."

"What's over?" Amira asked softly.

"The marriage," you sniffled, "the bliss, the partnership. I just become a cast-aside-milk-machine."

"You know the Prince would never - "

"Truthfully, Mira, we don't know," you cut her off sadly, "because nobody can predict what Aemond will say or do next."

"He wants to be a father," Mira nodded, but both of you froze when a new voice asked from the doorway,

"Who wants to be a father?"

Recognizing your husband's voice, Mira was swift to answer when you froze in fear, "My husband's brother. He's trying for a baby with his wife and I was telling the Princess how excited he is because he really wants to be a father."

"Hmm," Aemond considered a moment, stepping into the room in-full and letting the door close softly behind him. "Well, speaking of my dear wife, are you almost ready, love? We've dinner arrangements."

His eye raked over your form and when he settled on your face, he smirked with mischief. Gulping from the flush of heat his gaze brought, you glanced at Mira before affirming, "I'm ready, my Prince Ameond."

His brow furrowed as Mira showed herself out, Ameond asking, "Since when do you address me so formally, my love?"

"Oh, well, just - you know, we're going to have dinner with your whole family, Ameond, I just wanted to remember formalities and, you know, my place..."

"Your place," he reaffirmed as he reached for you, "is at my side, sweet girl. You worry for nought, my family adores you."

You sighed lightly, "As if you gave them a choice but only to accept me."

His smirked broadened, "You're right - I gave them none. Come, you're worrying yourself silly. It's nothing, my sweet girl, Father called for this dinner to celebrate us being together."

"Might you promise me something, then?"

Aemond sighed, "You know I cannot break promises to you."

"Exactly," you smirked lightly, feeling his arms tighten around your waist to keep you pressed to his front. You worried he'd feel the small curve of your belly, but distracted him by asking, "Do not antagonize anyone while your King Father is present, my love, please. He's old, he's sick, let us grant his wish of having a meal together - in harmony, in peace..."

He sighed again, letting his eye shoot over your face as you pouted lightly. "All right, my love," he agreed, "I will behave myself while Father is present."

"Thank you," you whispered, thinking that was the end of it. Your Lord husband smiled and took your hand to tangle his fingers with yours, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

"Shall we, my love?" He muttered softly.

"Hmm," you hummed, kissing him again. "All right, yeah, let us go. Shouldn't keep the family waiting."

He smirked, "Come."

Aemond liked keeping you close, moving from your shared rooms and down the halls to reach the private dining room the Royal Family was to take their meal in tonight. Upon entering, you discovered the fires ablaze and torches set to provide ample lighting, making you smile as the room was the perfect temperature for your pregnant, flushed-flesh.

As custom dictates, you bowed to the Queen Mother first; greeting the Hand of the King after, then with similar bows, greeted the crowned heir to the Iron Throne, your birth mother, Princess Rhaenyra. You gaze shifted to your mother's husband, the Prince Daemon, your step-father, and offered him a polite greeting. Truth of it was that you were always cautious of Daemon, and the way he looked at you was hard to decipher; never knowing if he even liked you or not. You skin was toned down from your father's, the late Lord Laenor Velaryon, but your hair was as bright as your mother and father's, and all who shared your blood.

Your marriage to Aemond was a bid for peace after your younger brother, Jace, took the young Aemond's eye about 6-7 years prior. To placate tension, your hand was offered only 2 years ago, and it turned out to be a surprising love-match. You and Aemond grew closer after the years apart, and though you tried to understand all sides of the situation, you knew the truth behind the loss of his eye, and only tried to offer comfort for your husband on day's he became overwhelmingly insecure.

You loved your family, but you loved the man you shared your life with now and did your best to keep the peace.

You greeted your brothers and cousins before looking back at your mother, who grinned in excitement.

Your mother breathed your name and stood from her seat, making you match her excitement as you let go of Aemond's hand to hug her tightly. "Mother," you gasped into the tight embrace. "Oh, how you glow! Pregnancy has always agreed with you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm well, my sweet love," Rhaenyra nodded, pulling away to gently pet a stray hair from your forehead. "Your hair's grown so much in these years."

"Do you like it?"

"You look beautiful, my love, I adore it," she promised, squeezing your hand. "How are you fairing?" She glanced over your shoulder to your husband - who was greeting his own siblings.

"I am doing well, Mother, you do not need worry," you assured. "Aemond is good and kind to me, I promise. I have known only love and warmth from him, and I feel I should both apologize to you for protesting the arrangement, and then thank you for it..." She smiled fondly, caressing your jaw and chin. "It has worked out better than I ever could imagine."

"I am delighted to hear it," your mother spoke with so much love and kindness that a light sheen of tears coated your eyes. "You look well, love," she sighed lightly, petting over your long hair. "You know I miss you daily, my sweet girl. It is not the same without you."

"I miss you, too," you swore. "More than words..."

She sighed, "Well, go on, we should find our seats..."

"We'll talk again soon," you assured softly, giving her hands another squeeze before breaking apart. You nodded to her husband, "Prince Daemon."

"Princess," he nodded back, watching you move around the table to snag Aemond's hand in yours, and together, the two of you made it to your seats at the head of the table. Aemond pulled your chair out and let you sit before taking his seat between you and his grandsire, leaving you between him and his sister, the Princess Helaena.

"Good evening," Otto muttered to you, nodding with a soft smile. "You look beautiful, Princess."

"Thank you, my Lord," you smiled. "You look well yourself. And you, Princess," you directed at Helaena, "that dress befits you."

"Thank you, my Lady," she smiled, "you're glowing... In this light," she spoke with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

"Love?" Aemond muttered, a servant holding a goblet. "Would you like wine tonight?"

"Oh, please," You accepted, Aemond taking the goblet to pass along to you. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Hm," he acknowledged with a small smirk, raising his own to his lips as he observed the whole of the table and slowly turned in his chair to crowd into you. "Say the word, love, and we'll leave..."

"We're fine," You assured in a soft whisper, bowing your head to speak in his ear. "You are on edge, my Prince."

You could almost physically feel his nerves.

"With reason," he sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to your neck. "Aegon wants a word, my love. I'll be a moment."

"Go on," you sighed, smiling with a nod as he stood from his seat; leaving you with a parting kiss on the top of your head. The table was still being dressed for dinner and the Targaryen-Hightower families all sat around as they all waited for the King to arrive. Aemond and Aegon stood for their conversation at the corner of the table, leaving Helaena to rise to her knees in her chair; giggling with you over whatever riddles plagued her mind in that moment. Otto smiled as he watched you two for a moment.

From your place, you could feel the tension from Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra, knowing all of their feud from your limited years at court prior to tonight. When the doors opened and a procession of Kings Guard was seen, you all pushed from your wooden chairs to stand for the King's arrival; your husband reaching for your waist to stand together as a united front. Aemond always took your union very seriously as your birth appearance only left room for rumors to fester about your brother's lineage, and Aemond took immense pride in calling you wife.

You, who had the color of your father's skin, and the hair color of your mother; you, who was a highly desired prize to the courts; you, who was desired over others, and looked at only as a trophy - but being that you wed a man who had known you your whole life, he treated you as much more. You were proud of your marriage, and stood tall at his side.

The King was carried in a chair that would double as his seat for the evening meal, requiring a set of guards to carry him up to the table before being lowered.

When everyone was allowed to reclaim their seat, Aemond held a hand to the servant boy who meant to push your chair in; smirking at you as he took the liberty himself. Say what you wanted about the lad, but his mother raised him right...

Much could not be said for his brother, but Aegon was not your worry.

Aemond took his seat after, letting his hand drift to your thigh in invitation; smirking again when both your hands tangled with his. You noticed both of your brothers now sat with their betrothed, who were Daemon's daughters with your Aunt Laena - who passed seemingly only days before your father. Both tragedies left your mother, Rhaenyra, and uncle (?) Daemon available to marry, and you remember standing on your ancestral home of Dragonstone, watching the Old Valyrian customs come to life as they wed.

A beautiful ceremony in truth.

Around the table, all members of the Targaryen-Velaryon-Hightower family claimed their seats as King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, was set down at the large gap separating your mother and step-mother...

How odd to think about the relations around this table.

As the guards retreated, Viserys croaked, "How good it is... To see you all tonight... Together."

You smiled at Aemond and let your head fall into the crook of his neck when he glanced at you; his arm readjusting to better hold your hand, both attentively listening to the King's words, but not before his chin caressed the top of your head when he returned your brief show of affection.

The tension at the table was nearly palpable, leaving Alicent to ask her husband, "Prayer before we begin?"

"Yes," Viserys agreed.

Everyone took proper prayer form, you glancing at your seemingly confused mother for a moment before to your lap as Alicent lead the prayer: "May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith men the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the Gods give him rest."

You ignored the under-breath huffy responses to Queen Alicent wishing for rest upon a man slain in court today, nodding when the prayer was over and lifting your head to reclaim your husband's hand in your own. Viserys continued, "This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our Houses." You nudged Aemond gently when you saw him staring at Jace with unnerve. "A toast to the young Princes and their betrothed!"

"Hear, hear," Daemon mocked as he took up his goblet, your husband spying your smirk of amusement.

And though he lowered his voice so his father did not hear, Aegon's words reached your own ears as he muttered to your brother, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

Jace let his goblet set to the table forcefully, catching your eyes as you subtly shook your head at him. He ignored Prince Aegon's antagonizing words.

"Let us toast, as well, Prince Lucerys... The future Lord of the Tides."

"Hear, hear," his future sister-cousin toasted with a soft smirk.

"You'll be great," his cousin-fiancé assured.

"Love," you reprimanded softly, catching his stare again. He only sighed at you as Aegon was turning to Jace again.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume? As least, in principle? Where to put your cock and all that?"

"Let it be, cousin."

"You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed," Jace defended, keeping his voice low so the adults would not hear him.

"Hmm," Aegon sighed, nodding once before sitting forward in his seat. You sighed to yourself, feeling Aemond's hand stroking over the meat of your inner thigh and leaning into his arm slightly.

But all came to a stand-still when Viserys grunted and stood uneasily to his feet, leaning forward on the table to hold himself up. His words were spoken between huffs of breath, "It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table." He looked around with meaning, "The faces most dear to me in all the world... Yet grown so distant from each other... In the years past."

Aemond blinked once, then twice, and lowered his gaze to the table before looking down at you. You offered a silent smile and pet over his hand. But both of your smiles dropped when you looked up again, watching Viserys reach for the latch that kept the golden facemask in place; realizing his intention. You were used to Aemond's injury and scar, but the King's was something else entirely, and with your pregnancy stomach - you were unsure how you would react seeing it.

Aemond's hand squeezed yours when the King dropped his mask and gave a front-row-viewing to his decaying face. Aegon and Helaena refused to look, their eyes set to the table as Viserys looked around; Rhaenyra seeing the extent of his illness, and how his children could not look at him for longer than a few seconds.

Viserys continued, "My own face... Is no longer a handsome one," he snorted lightly at his own joke, "if indeed it ever was. But tonight... I wish you to see me... As I am." Otto watched the King directly, boldly, and your eyes could only handle small glances, focusing on the way Aemond was distracting you with his fingers running up and down your thigh in your lap. "Not just a King," Viserys continued through haggard breathing, "But your Father!" He turned his eye to Daemon, spitting, "Your brother!" His head turned to Alicent, "Your husband." And then he looked to the middle of the table, "Your grandsire. Who may not, it seems... Walk for much longer among you." He slammed the gold mask to punctuate his point, all eyes staring at him now. "Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances." You felt emotion swell in your chest as Aemond's hand paused to squeeze your hand. "If not for the sake of the crown... Then for the sake of this old man! Who loves you all so dearly!"

He panted in exhaustion as he fell back into his seat with Alicent's aid; fixing the mask back over the decaying half of his face. Suddenly, your mother, Rhaenyra, was shooting up from her seat with her goblet in hand; making you sit up straighter almost subconsciously. Aemond fought off his knowing smirk as he watched your mother hold her goblet with intention.

After a moment, the crowned Princess spoke, "I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen." When Alicent had helped secure the gold mask, she looked up in curiosity. "I love my father," she continued to Alicent. "But I must admit that no one has stood... More loyally by his side than his good wife." After a meaningful look, your mother spoke to the rest of the table, "She has tended to him with... Unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... And my apology."

When your mother's eyes caught your own as she sat down, you nodded with your own toast, "To the Queen Mother."

The others echoed your words and took their obligatory sip of wine, watching Alicent accept your mother's words. "Your graciousness move me deeply, Princess." Daemon sat forward at the Queen's words, your mother watching her as your own husband seemingly stilled to watch the tense exchange. "We are both mothers... And we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow." Your mother accepted her words, in turn; and the Queen Alicent Hightower stood to her feet, and hoisted her cup high, "I raise my cup to you and to your House." After a moment, she ended, "You will make a fine Queen."

You smirked gently as your mother fought off her emotion, raising your cup again to call, "To Princess Rhaenyra, our future Queen!"

The rest of the table followed suit, and with King Viserys, took their gulps of wine. Aemond smirked and pecked your temple, earning your attention for you to grin at him - feeling as if this was a perfect moment to announce to your husband and family that you were pregnant. But his attention drifted when his brother drained his goblet, cleared his throat, and stood from his seat.

He sighed and kept close watch as you silently turned your attention as well. Aemond knew better than anyone how protective you were of your brothers, and though you shared different traits in appearance, they were still your blood, and you, and your gorgeous green dragon, Kasta, would defend them until your death day.

You could not make out the words Aegon was muttering to your cousin, but you knew the lad liked to instigate; his farce of pouring himself a new goblet of wine only getting him so far.

Whatever was said upset the Prince enough for his hands to bang on the table as he stood; Aegon's smirk assuring you he meant for this reaction. "Jace," you heard Rhaena try to intercede.

But as Aegon made for his seat, your husband stood to his feet, and stared Jace down as if in challenge to say anything. The table all stilled, and even Viserys, who had witnessed your husband ferocity, waited with held breath. "My love," you whispered, reaching for Aemond's sleeve to give a simple tug. "You promised," you reminded softly, begging him to sit down again. But when his fist formed, you stood from your seat to press into his side, whispering urgently, "Aemond, please, do not do this, I am begging you."

His arm slithered around you to keep you at his side as Jace only pounded his fist into Aegon's shoulder in a show of good faith; noting the way Aemond went rigid even under your soothing touch.

Jace toasted with his own goblet, "To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years," Jace glanced from Luke to you and Aemond, "but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And it is obvious the love, devotion, and respect you show my sister - and for that, I give both gratitude and thanks." He paused to look at Aegon, who looked sour at the show of responsibility and educated-tongue. "And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your families good health, dear uncles. Or, should I say, dear uncle, and brother," he smiled at you after, seeing you return it with all-teeth.

But when Aemond's hand tightened on your waist in anger, you whispered again with urgency, "Please, let it go."

Behind you, Jace had gripped Aegon's shoulder, giving a tight squeeze, before another friendly fist pound - making the Prince reply tightly, "To you as well."

"A moment," you called, making Aemond pause in his descent to his chair, and prayed you could cause reason to smile again, "because I'd like to toast my good and loving husband." He offered you a solemn smile, but cocked his head in confusion. "And... I'd like to take this moment, before our families, to share the good news..."

"Love," Aemond whispered in shock, Alicent perking up as Otto did. "You speak what I think you do?"

You nodded, glancing at the table, but telling Aemond, "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby, the Seven's heard us at last, my Prince."

There was a round of cheers and applause as Aemond breathed in relief and pulled you in, letting both his hands caress your cheeks as he kissed you tenderly. "Truly?" He muttered, making tears brim your waterline.

"Yes," you confirmed, feeling one of his hands drop to press against you gently swelling womb. "Just a bit over three months in."

He laughed and pulled you in for a proper hug, the table sending their congratulations to you both - and you foolishly thought you were successful in distracting Aemond enough. You took your seats again, him fully turned to keep his arms around you, as the family all muttered in good tidings.

But above them, you could hear Helaena mutter, "Beware the beast beneath the boards."

You didn't get to question it because you were leaning over to give Otto's hand a squeeze - thanking him for his good tidings. Your mother caught your eye after, giving you a bright and happy grin; silently toasting to you, making you return the motion and take a sip.

Thinking you had ended the toasts for the evening, imagine the surprise when Helaena, a usually quiet girl, stood from her seat as if it burned her. Aemond and you both paused to look up, listening as she spoke, "I would like to toast Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. 'Tisn't so bad," she assured sincerely. "Mostly, he just ignores you..." Then, a thought came to her, "Except sometimes when he's drunk."

You honestly didn't mean to, but you laughed a little - eyes widening as you look at Aemond with your hand over your mouth. But he chuckled, too; and dare you say it, but you swore Otto let out a singular chuckle to his granddaughter's words. In fact, you knew he did, when Helaena found her seat again and he nodded at her, muttering, "Good."

"Let us have some music," Viserys spoke, and a moment later, the live musicians struck a tune. Curiosity burned in your gut when Jace stood from his seat, muttered to his fiancé, and then stepped around the table to approach Helaena with an offered hand.

"Jace," You warned your brother when he halted beside you; watching as Aegon could not tear his sights away from his wife as she accepted, and let the Prince lead her to a small clearing for a dance.

Aegon turned and shared a hardened look with his brother. Aemond let his chair push back some to give him a proper view of his surroundings, taking your hand, and encouraging you closer. You sighed with mild worry, muttering, "Won't you eat something, my love? Please?"

He hummed, tearing his gaze back to you. "No, sweet girl, you go on. Eating for two now, aren't you?"

You sighed lightly, "W-Was this alright?"

"What?"

"Telling you here?" You wondered, genuine fear flooding your chest.

Aemond sighed and leaned forward to crowd into you again, despite the head of the table posing with natural privacy. "My love... This is," he sighed lightly and took your hands in his, meeting your gaze, "The best news you could've given me - in any way. But in front of our families? That is special, indeed," he smirked some, leaning in to press a linger kiss to your forehead. "Worry not, sweet wife, for this is joyous news. I am just..."

"Uneasy?" You filled in with a frown. "I know this family likes to push buttons but please do not say or do anything - not with the King here, my love."

"I know," he assured softly, "I made you a promise, I will not break it."

You nodded in response, letting his lips meet yours for a slow kiss, his nose nuzzling against yours before he leaned back in his chair - nodding at your plate to silently encourage you to take another bite.

Some minutes passed and after laughing with Otto over something silly, you caught your husband's gaze again. You offered him a small look before leaning in, making him sit up and bow his head to hear your words, "You're staring again."

He chuckled, "Perhaps I am enjoying the view."

"Oh, of me eating, is it?"

"Of my beautiful wife, yes," he smirked, leaning back again, and leaving you to get sucked back into whatever was being spoken of now. You did not notice how the King gazed fondly at you all, taking note of his gathered family, until he was wincing and moaning in pain.

Slowing your chewing, you watched silently as Alicent called for the guards, and Viserys was then being pulled away, and carried away from the table. You stood with respect as he was dismissed, Aemond's hands smoothing over your waist to guide you back into your seat - a moment before he did the same.

Aemond sat at an angle, not eating, and leaving place at the table before him for the servants to raise and set a roasted pig before him. You eyed it wearily, knowing of the torment your brothers and Aegon put Aemond through for being dragonless in his youth, and tried not to think further of it. You reached to lay your hand on Aemond's knee in comfort, just placing your next bite to your mouth as Luke's snickering amusement enraged Aemond.

"Don't," you gasped after you swallowed when you noted the way his entire body turned to regard your younger brother; sighing in defeat when Aemond's fist rapidly pounded into the table's top as he climbed to his feet and swiftly picked up his goblet.

"Final tribute," Aemond proposed, ignoring the way you sighed and remained still in your seat. When the hall quieted and turned their attention to him, Aemond continued, "To the health of my nephews: Jace," he looked to the boy still-standing, "Luke," his sights turned to your brother that slashed his eye from its socket, "and Joffrey. Each of them handsome," your eyes met Alicent's, as if anticipating his words, "wise..." He paused, the tension brewing to a new height.

"Love, please," you whispered, watching him nod silently, and then finish,

"Strong."

"Aemond," his mother tried, but was ignored.

"Come!" Aemond barked as you slowly stood to your feet out of worry; his arm extending to wrap around you and settle you on his other side - as if to protect you. "With my sweet wife, let us drain our cups to these three..." Aegon rose his goblet with enthusiasm, ever the one to hide behind his brother's brute, words, and strength, "Strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again," Jace barked.

"Why?" Aemond instigated as his head snapped to look at your brother, you sharing a look of unease with Alicent. "'Twas only a compliment." He let go of you as Jace started forward, turning instantly to meet him. "Do you not think yourself Strong?"

Luke stood in anger as Aegon met him, Jace launching his fist into Aemond's jaw - making you wince slightly upon the impact, and making you call your brother's name in protest. You felt Otto raise to his feet and pull you back from the fray, as Aegon smashed Luke's head to the table. "THAT IS ENOUGH!" Alicent raged.

Seemingly unfazed by the fist to his face, Aemond smirked at Jace before pushing the younger boy back off his feet. He sprung up with a growl - making two guards lunge forward to restrain him - as your husband turned with a broad grin and his goblet, still in hand.

Jace and Luke were both restrained as you freed yourself from Otto's grasp to reach for your husband, who sat his goblet down in order to hold onto you. "What was that? Huh? You lost your mind finally?" You demanded in disappointment, hearing your brothers still growling and grunting with effort to free themselves.

Alicent descended upon you two, demanding in a lowered tone, "Why would you say such a thing before these people!?"

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother," Aemond rounded on her, one arm still tight around your waist. "Mm," he considered, raising his voice as he let go of you to turn, "though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

Jace broke free and charged forward as Daemon barked, "Wait, wait!" With a silent finger held, he stalked between the two Princes; easing Jace backwards without uttering a word. When the boy was back by his brother and both of their betrothed, your mother was demanding of them, "Go to your quarters. All of you go, now."

Daemon turned and settled his sights on Aemond, making the hair on your neck stand on end with worry as you held your husband's hand tightly - as if it would keep him at bay. Your step-father came to a halt and sighed, still staring at Aemond, and you knew that just because your husband was unhinged, didn't mean you were, and Daemon genuinely made you nervous. He was undefeated and rumor of his win in the Stepstones was told to you directly by your father, who bore witness to the Rogue Prince taking the entire beach by himself.

Daemon was not someone you were eager to cross, but your husband loved a good challenge - and by the look in both man's eye, you knew they had met their matches.

Aemond sized Daemon up for a moment before your hand tightened in his, begging quietly, "Can we go, please?"

He hummed in response and tightened his hand in yours, leading you past your mother and step-father, but pausing when Rhaenyra spoke your name. Your mother reached for you, smiling, "Congratulations, my sweet girl. You'll make a beautiful mother."

"Thank you," you whispered to her, leaning in to kiss her cheek, and whisper, "I'm so sorry."

She winked at you in return, letting Aemond take your hand again and lead you onward into the torch-lined hallway. You sighed when you pushed from the room, leading in the other direction of the guest rooms, meaning, you did not have to worry about running into your brothers.

"You're angry," he mentioned in observation after a few moments.

"No," you answered quietly, leading up to your chamber door. "Just uneasy."

"Over me?"

"Over all of this," you admitted softly, entering first and hearing him follow. When the door closed, you continued, "It pains me to feel and see the divide in the family. And I walk both lines of it..."

"'S not easy," he agreed.

"No, it's not," you sighed, pulling your jewelry off. "And now isn't the time for petty games, my love. We've a child on the way, the time for grudges has passed - though I will not tell you to let this go." You turned to look at him in the firelight. "I know the pain caused, and I know what was taken from you..." He lowered his gaze, making you slowly approach him and reach for either hand. "But I need my husband with me, and not lost to some vendetta. We're having a baby, Aemond, and I'd like for them to know their uncles."

He sighed, nodding as he wrapped his arms up your waist. "Aye... I'd want that, too. But they can't call me brother, please, my love - "

You chuckled, "I will make sure they understand. We do not have to see them often, but the times we do, I'd like for some semblance of peace and normalcy."

He nodded with understanding, "Aye. For you, my love, I can do that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," He sighed.

"Then please - no more Strong comments," you begged quietly. "They're leaving soon, please, do not instigate this further. You do not have to see them again, but I'd like to see my siblings off."

He nodded, "Whatever you want, my sweet."

"Well, I want my brothers and husband to get along but that's not happening, is it?"

"Not likely," he teased. "But I will do my best to restrain myself."

"I only ask that you try," you agreed, pecking his lips. "Now, are you gonna run off anymore or do I have my husband for the night?"

He smirked, "You have me, my love. I am here with you."

"Good," you smirked, letting a hand snake along the back of his neck to pull him down; searing a heated kiss to his lips.

•

[ in chronological order: When Pride Married Prejudice // WPMP part two // Petitions // Distraction // The Inky Green Council // Bearer of Bad News ]

Petitions

[ series masterlist at end ]

prompt: your family returns to Kings Landing to hear petitions regarding your brother's legitimacy.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: (this got away from me at) 11.3k+

note: i tweaked the timeline in the show a bit to match my own timeline. also it's long, but i need time to plan the next part(s). i hope this suffices!

warnings: spoilers, cursing, (poorly written) smut. basically when Aemond's in the training yard and the court scene. potentially too detailed but that's intentionally for the readers who don't watch the show. descriptions of violence, just a bit more background - marking this as fluff? it's pure filler? again, not edited, canon-level incest, dialogue. ❗️major season one, episode eight spoilers

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞 ❌ all taglists are discontinued

His gaze followed you around your shared room, smirking at your nervous, jerking movements. "You know we've maids for this kind of thing, my love. And you've cleaned three times this night already, I do believe it is as spotless as it will get, sweet girl."

"Okay, well, it's just not right, yet," you rushed, sighing to yourself as you rearranged the pillows on your bed again. "'S just not right, not right, 's gotta be right," you muttered to yourself under your breath.

"Why's that, pet?"

"It's just not, Aemond, please - stop questioning me!"

His hands rose in mock defense from his place in the carved, wooden chair beside the table and before the hearth, watching you for a few more minutes as you moved like a tornado. You picked things up and rearranged them somewhere new. When your busy body moved towards the table he sat at with a pile of books in your hand, he reached out swiftly and wrapped both arms around you - making you briefly panic. He pulled you to his lap, leaving little room for you to wiggle free.

"Aemond - "

"Ease yourself, my sweet wife," he spoke smoothly, loosening his hold to let you turn comfortably on his lap. "The room is absolutely spotless, you need not worry for a thing. And you've been barking at the servants all week to clean the other chambers, I promise, things are where they need to be."

You sighed and leaned over to set the books to the table, picking up his goblet when your hand was free, and leaning your back to his chest. "I do not bark, and you'd stand well not to mock me," you muttered softly, taking a sip of sweet wine.

"I do not mean to," he sighed, nuzzling the skin in front of your ear as you sat somewhat sideways on him. "You are worrying for nought, my sweet love. Please, ease yourself, my busy bee."

"My mother's coming to the Red Keep, Aemond," you refused, head shaking to swirl tresses of silver-white hair. "And it will be the first time in years I've seen her. Please, I only want her to see that we can keep house and feel as if she's raised a proper lady - who knows how to be a wife."

"You do realize it is not our responsibility, sweets, for this is not technically our house," he muttered against your temple, placing a kiss there as you drained his goblet. "It's my mother's house to keep, and she does, so you do not need to worry yourself. Besides, they are not going to stay in our chambers."

"I know," you sighed, finally deflating against his chest. "I just want things in place. I feel in place when things are proper and away."

"They are," he assured softly, letting you lean back into him with a snuggly arm around you. He reached for your goblet and extended his arm to set it to the table's top. "Are you going to meet them?"

"Yes, of course," you assured, reaching up to gently pet his jaw as you pressed your forehead to his neck. "You are to train, are you not?"

He sighed softly, "This morn, pet, yes."

"Will you join us after?" You pouted lightly. "Before we are to hear Lord Vaemond?"

"Perhaps it is not wise for us to visit with your mother before the proceedings," Aemond admitted before he pondered a moment and decided to adjust his answer. "Or at least... It is not wise for me."

"We shall see," you sighed softly, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw as you understood why the meeting would make him uncomfortable. "But you are excused, my love, if that's what you are looking for."

He chuckled, "Hmm, all right. Thank you, my sweet girl. You will find me after, won't you?"

"Oh! Do not tell me it is time to rise already? I have only just sat."

"'Tis time to depart, actually, yes," he mused, leaned in to kiss your lips. You whined lightly, keeping hold of his cheek as your lips adjusted against his; his breathing deepening when his hands tightened their hold on your hips; readjusting your hips so that both legs laid over his lap in a straddle.

"Aemond," you warned half-heartedly when he began to ease you back and forth over his lap, rocking you over his growing bulge.

He sighed, "What if we did not leave this room? Hmm? For the day?"

"We have to, because we are responsible and lead by example," you chuckled lightly, letting your tongue lick over his bottom lip.

"You're not making a valid case, pet," he returned your laughter, tightening his hands so they jolted into your ribs. You lurched forward with laughter, incidentally grinding over on his lap; the both of your breaths catching when he pressed you downward.

"Aemond," you now moaned softly, brows furrowed in concentration as your hands held his jaw and neck for balance. "You know we're needed in the courtyards."

"I think we've a moment or two," he muttered against your lips, breathing the same breath as he lead you back and forth, back and forth, back and forth over his lap. His hips stiffened to raise slightly, fighting back his moan when his cock rode up into your weeping hole. "You vex me, woman," he chuckled breathily, letting his tongue dart out to flex over your neck. "How the Gods have blessed me."

"We will be late, my love," you giggled lightly. "Your mother already blames me for your new late attendance record."

He smirked at you, letting your manicured hand caress his jaw; reveling in the warmth from your fingers, "But you are the reason for our late arrivals, pet. You're irresistible."

"Maybe you're just insatiable."

"Hmm," Aemond considered with a smirk, letting your lips pucker to pepper kisses around his jaw and chin. "Are you trying to distract me, my love? I hate to admit it might be working."

"Perhaps I'd only like to savor another moment with my husband before duty holds our obligations the rest of the day."

He nodded and let his hands fall to the meat of your arse, "Fair point... Should we go back to bed then, my sweet wife?"

"Do not tempt me with a good time," you mocked him, making him laugh and lean forward to peck your lips. "Come," you finally sighed sadly.

"Yeah, all right, c'mon. Mother needs one of her children to be responsible," he agreed, letting you raise off his lap to move around the table so he had room to stand. After taking time to finish getting ready, you both laced on your boots and moved out the door. Like a gentleman, Aemond escorted you to the front landing-courtyard, where you would wait for your mother's envoy; and after a kiss to your lips and a muttered, "I love you," your husband was leaving you there to head for his training session with Ser Criston Cole, Queen's Guard.

In truth, the knight was always polite to you, but you saw his glare when he thought he was concealed. Funny how people think themselves invisible, but in reality, they are glaringly obvious. Your mother had once told you the truth behind the drama she and Cole found themselves in from years ago, and while it wasn't your place to offer judgement, it was obvious now that Cole had never forgiven your mother. Being her daughter, you were the next best thing to take his anger out on. Yet he favored your husband and his obvious skill, so, you were merely endured.

You waited only a few moments before the front gates opened and your mother's carriage was lead into the courtyard, making you perk up; straighten up; hands clasping in front of you as your shoulders straightened. You wanted to show her that she had raised you right and she need not worry - because you were a proper Targaryen lady whilst under the Hightower's heel.

One of the stationed guards called in announcement, "All hail Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne."

"Mother," you sighed to yourself with sweet relief.

"And her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen!"

"Princess," a maid approached you with hurried steps and a flustered face, "you're needed - "

"Not now," you insisted, wanting to see your mother and nothing more. Even a glance - a simple glimpse of her would suffice right now. You had missed her gravely.

"Please, it is Kasta, Princess - she grows restless and aggressive," the servant rushed in worry. You sighed, nodding at her; taking the skirts of your dress in hand. "Thank you, Princess, thank you - you're the only one who can calm her."

"All right," you tisked, turning from the courtyard and following the young maid away just as your mother's carriage had opened, and she stepped out - catching a simple glimpse of your hurried back and recognizing the tense posture. "What is the matter?" You asked the maid, dodging around different personnel.

"She's refusing anything brought to eat," she explained quietly, "and she grows aggressive as time passes. We do not know what to do anymore, I am sorry for bothering you, Princess."

You huffed, "She's just restless I'd wager, I've not taken her out in a spell. Come, she'll want beef more than venison."

The maid nodded, and together, scurried off with you towards the Dragon Pit. She broke off to consult a local farmer, Mr. Drox, who provided livestock for the royal dragons, and when you reached the Pit, all guards were gathered outside in fear.

"Princess!" They breathed in relief.

"She's all right," you assured, spying the maid leading a fully grown steer closer. "Is she below?"

"No, she's refusing to go down," a guard explained, making you nod.

"Come," you gestured the maid forward. Taking the lead rope, you directed the frightened cow inward; soon spying your emerald dragon as she bellowed in distain. Sand and pebbles fell from the ceiling. "Kasta, easy, easy. What is it, my girl?" You spoke in High Valyrian. "Easy, my sweet girl. Hey, hey, hey," you sassed when she growled at you, "what's all that for, hmm? I know you want to go out, my girl, but soon. I promise, you've got to mind your manners til then, sweetness," you had to pause to turn and heave the steer forward until you could latch the lead rope to the post driven into the sand.

Kasta sniffed the air, cocking her head in curiosity when she understood your offering. Her head swung over to look at you, chittering lightly, and you smiled.

"Yeah," you sighed, "that's all and only for you, sweet girl. Kasta, you need to go down, my girl. Hey? If I offer this steer, will you go down? I will be back in the next few days to take you out. Yes? Is that fair?"

She huffed lightly, shaking her neck and head out before huffing two nostrils of smoke.

"Yeah, that's my good girl," you praised, stepping back to a safe distance. Nodding, you gave her the command to set the horned-cow on fire, listening to it wail in pain for only a few moments before dragon fire engulfed it whole - killing it over.

You watched as your terrible beasty tore the cow apart, listening to the crunch of bone and slurping of flesh before there was nothing but a charred mark in the sand where the cow once stood. You nodded in pride, approaching Kasta's shoulder.

"Good girl," you boasted to her brightly, patting her hide. "Was that enough of an offering? Could you go down now? For me?"

She huffed, and you swore, if dragons could talk, she'd be grumbling to herself like a sassy teenager. You praised the great dragon the entire walk down under the Pit, leaving her in the Dragon Caves so she could curl up in her alcove begrudgingly. "Oh, I know. That's my very good and patient girl," you assured, scratching the scales of her head. "I will be back, and we will stretch your wings, my love. Soon, I swear it." She sighed sadly, a light stream of smoke billowing out. "I know, but today is very important... My brother's lineage is in question, and I must be present for the proceedings."

Her head lifted to tilt at you as if in question.

"I know," you assured with a patient hand. "It's been very stressful. I'll come back and tell you all about it, my sweet. How's that sound?"

Kasta let out a long huff and laid her head down, making you grin with acceptance and give her head a quick hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Patting her scales once more, you bid her a safe night before heading out and discovering the guards still gathered. Still trembling. Still scared out of their minds.

"She's all right," you informed the men with a sigh. "She's under the Pit in the Caves and she will not come out without me. She'll have an attitude, but she's doing well. Leave her be for now."

"Yes, Princess - thank you, Princess."

You nodded in response, wiping your hands on a spare cloth as you moved away from the Pit with a deep sigh; navigating through the city. By position in the sky, you wagered you had spent quite a bit of time there, and when you returned to the Keep, there was a commotion in the training yard that caught your attention.

Slowing your gait while you aimlessly wiped your hands still, you saw your husband in the middle of the commotion - but it was Ser Cole that was posing the challenger. You paused at your vantage point in the causeway to watch, not wincing like you used to as Cole took fatal swings because Aemond was truly a gifted warrior. You used to worry, but there was no use now.

Aemond was just too good.

At the end, your husband had flipped his sword in hand to position at Cole's thick, pale neck - signaling the end of the match. This earned a round of applause from the lingering bystanders, and for the Queen's sworn sword to compliment, "Well done, my Prince. You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

As you descended the stairs leading into the yard, you heard Aemond respond, "I don't give a shit about tourneys. My wife is all the prize I need. Nephews," he directed, sword hilt twirling effortlessly in his hand as his eye shifted over to the crowd, "have you come to train?"

But luck served its purpose, and a guard was shouting, "Open the gate!"

You sighed as you reached the crowd, passing a few drooling Ladies of the court to stalk up to your husband. Approaching his flank, you reached for his elbow first; his head snapping over but relaxing when he took in your face.

"My love," he greeted calmly, smirking gently, "I did not think to see you so soon. Did you catch the show?"

"I did," you nodded, smiling up at him. "You did well, my Prince. It was very impressive, indeed." You leaned up a bit to speak in his ear, "But you'll do well not to challenge my brothers like that again, yes?"

He nodded to you, "As you wish, pretty girl. Have you been to see your mother?"

"Not yet," you sighed, "I was called away to the Pit, Kasta was restless and the guards grew fearful."

"Hmm," he nodded once, easing his arm around your waist tightly as the gates had been wrenched open and your Uncle Vaemond's entourage entered into the Red Keep - waving the blue Velaryon banners. You sighed as Aemond took up a shield, his attention turned to the marching procession and unable to fight off his taunting smirk.

"Aemond," you sighed, jabbing his ribs with your elbow.

"What?" He asked innocently, another smirk in place.

"Behave yourself, please," you sighed, seeing Cole readying for a new fight. Leaning in, you held his waist to peck his lips, "Good luck, my Prince."

"Thank you, sweet girl," he whispered, smirking down at you before stealing his own kiss, and pulling away as he readied his sword. "My wins are in your name, of course."

"And your losses?" You teased him as you backed away a few paces, hearing him chuckle.

"I have none, Princess," he assured with a curt nod, which you understood was more of a wink for him. At least, between the two of you, that's what you understood.

Aemond relied on mostly nonverbal communication and after being married for a few years now, you could read him like you did Valyrian.

You sighed to yourself with a small grin as you approached your brothers, greeting, "Oh, who are these handsome lads? Surely not my wee brothers? All but scrawny last I saw them!" They turned swiftly and grinned at you, breathing your name as they both surged forward to latch onto you in greeting. One set of arms around your neck and the other around your waist. You laughed as you hugged them back, "Oh, my sweet boys! How good it is to see you, hold you again. Ah!"

"It is good to see you, too, sister," Jace beamed; you could hear it in his voice. The two pulled back to face you in full, and your hand reached to caress your younger brother's nervous face.

"Yes, I am glad you're here, too," Luke nodded after, glancing at his brother.

"Oh, worry not, my boy," you sighed, your thumb rubbing the skin of his chin, "for we all know you are the rightful heir to Driftmark, but because Lord Corlys does not have an obvious heir right now, this is just protocol. Though, because grandfather already settled this, I'd not worry at all, Lucerys," you reached for his shoulder then, giving it a squeeze. "You are not standing alone, and you know if it would help and come down to it, I will stand for you."

"You will?" he whispered, small tears gathering in his eyes. "I could not ask that of you..."

"I would never let you stand alone, Luke," you smiled. "Or you, Jace, ever. You both will always have me on your side," you nodded at your other brother. "Though people like to whisper, we share the same blood, and to our mother, the Heir to the Throne, and grandsire, current King, you are her true born sons. That is all that matters, my loves," you spoke with reassurance. "Now, might you want to sneak into the kitchens this me? I hear they're making lemon cakes..."

"Oh! Let's go," Jace beamed, nudging his brother into action. Either boy took your hand, and felt your husband's eye on your retreating form. For the following hours, you and your brothers pursued around the Red Keep with lemon cakes, meeting with your cousins, the Ladies Rhaena and Baela; all reminiscing on shared memories and fond moments from your childhood.

They asked how your life was in the Red Keep, and while you assure all four that you were okay, you smiled sadly as you told them that you missed them all dearly. They filled you in on what your mother was up to, how your step father, Daemon, faired; what they were learning, and how life was treating them as of late.

Rhaena still did not yet have a dragon, but you knew it could not be long before she had one to claim.

Baela was doing well, all things considered.

And outside of this legitimacy fiasco, your brothers were well, too.

When the time for the court proceedings drew nearer, Aemond found you in the Godswood with the other four. "Love," he called, stalking towards you stiffly.

"Oh, Aemond," you smiled.

"Though I hate to interrupt, we're needed, love," he nodded at you with meaning, and you understood.

Again, you knew how to read your husband incredibly well.

"Right," you nodded at him, letting his hand take yours as you turned to your brothers and cousins slash step-sisters. "I will see you lot in the throne room, yes?"

"We'll be there," Jace nodded, glancing at Aemond - who only watched you. "Thank you for the hospitality, sister."

"It is always a pleasure to host you, my siblings," you spoke softly, winking at them with a smile before letting Aemond lead you away. When you exited the Godwood with your dress' skirts in hand to save you from tripping, you asked, "I imagine the Queen has summoned us?"

"She wants a word before the court proceedings begin, yes," Aemond nodded, sighing sadly. "How are your brothers, my dear?"

"Good, thank you for asking," you whispered, smiling up at him. "It is good to see them. And my step-sisters are doing well, too."

"That is good news. It is good to see you so happy," he nodded, readjusting his hold on your hand so you stepped closer all the slightly. "Mother will want us to change before court."

"Saw that coming," you teased. "Wanna match?"

"Hm, what color are you thinking, love?"

"Black," you smirked, making him paused before his mother's chambers to chuckle. "You look very handsome in black."

"Deal," he winked, pecking your forehead as he knocked at the door. When it opened, Ser Cole was on the other side, and let you pass through the open doors.

"The Prince Aemond and Princess Y/N, Your Grace," he announced to your step-mother, who paced in front of the fireplace.

"Thank you, Ser Criston," she thanked, dismissing him, and leaving you three alone. "Would you like to sit?" She offered softly, gesturing to the seating before the fire.

Like you always did, you let Aemond take the reins when talking to his mother. "No, thank you, Mother. We are going to change before the trials, after this meeting."

"'Tis not a trial, Aemond, but only accounts we are hearing. Petitions," Alicent Hightower nodded to herself. "Speaking of, my Lady, might I ask which position you intend to take?"

Knowing now was the time, you assured the King's wife, "The same position I plan to always take, Your Grace. That of my husband."

She nodded once, "Good. That is good to hear."

"Though, should I need to, I am prepared to come to my brother's defense," you spoke strongly, feeling Aemond stiffen slightly. "I do not intend for it, but should my Uncle Vaemond want to drawl me into his petition, trying to cite me, again, as absurd evidence, then I am prepared to support the Prince Lucerys' claim."

Alicent offered a solemn smile, "I would expect little else, dear girl. Very well, then..."

"If it's any peace of mind, Your Grace, I do not intend to stray from my husband's side. It is only if I am forced to, that I am prepared to defend my brother. And I only expect my Uncle Vaemond to do such, my mother nor brother would never."

"I understand," Alicent offered a smile. "Thank you for your honesty."

"Of course, Your Grace," you nodded, bowing to her after.

"If question of my wife's loyalties was all, Mother, we're going to take our leave to change before hearing these... Petitions," Aemond spoke with a hardened tick he rarely took with his mother, cocking his head slightly at the end.

"All right, yes, go on," she dismissed, waving you both out as she turned to resume her nervous pacing. You would've asked if she was all right, but decided against it.

"Everything all right, my love?" You asked when the door shut behind you and Aemond - him tugging you towards your rooms. "Hey, hey, hey, hang on a bit, my legs don't move as fast as yours, love!"

He slowed his gait, sighing lightly, "Sorry, sweet girl. Forget how fast I move sometimes."

"Yeah, 's all right, love, but are you all right?" You asked again. "Got a bit lippy with your Mum, didn't you?"

"Well, she does this often enough," he seethed slightly. "Questions your loyalties even after all these years. It's fucking ridiculous."

"She questioned my mother, she'll question me," you sighed, not wanting to stir him up. "I do not wish to say it is okay, but in a strange way, I do understand it."

"Shouldn't have to," he grumbled, arriving at your chamber doors and pushing them open.

"Well, it's our reality," you rebutdtaled as you moved past him to enter your rooms. "Is that truly what plagues you, husband?" You wondered gently after he shut the door, hands to your hips.

"For now," he sighed. "How was your mother?"

"I told you, I haven't been able to see her yet," you admitted. "I was gathered before I could see her to deal with Kasta."

"Yes... What was wrong, again?" He wondered softly, moving to select something more appropriate for your time in court.

"She is annoyed with me," you chuckled, stripping from your dress to favor the new black gown you chose to wear. "She wants to fly but I have not had time as of late."

"Hmm."

"I will take her out soon," you promised your husband as your had your dragon. "There's more on my mind currently."

He nodded, fixing a new tunic and jerkin on over his pale torso. "Things like your brother's standing as Lord of the Tides?"

You huffed before snapping, "He's the rightful heir, I do not know why this is suddenly back in bloody question. I'm sure mother's been overwhelmed with this, and I have not been there to aid her."

"Why would she be stressed?"

"How would you feel if your children's birth was called into question around every fucking corner?" You sent him a hardened look, pausing your ministrations to stare at him with malcontent. Your eyes dared him to argue with you.

"Well... When you look like you, and they look like them... Love," he sighed, pleading for you to see his reason.

"You act as if our familial traits cannot do funny things through bloodlines and time," you snipped, crossing your arms. "The Gods favored me only by allowing me white hair and the paler complexion of my father - and the boys were not so lucky. That does not make them any less Targaryen, Aemond, and I will not have this argument with you again!"

Aemond sighed and wanting to placate your ebbing and waning anger, agreed, "You are right, my love. I'm sorry for pushing."

"It's all right," you sighed, shaking your head as you went back to work, "it's not like I'm stupid or blind. I know we look different, but it does not mean that we do not share the same blood."

"No," he nodded, reaching for you to help lace up your gown. "But for now, they will plead their petitions - "

"Uncle Vaemond is the only one with a fucking petition because Luke is the rightful heir," you corrected.

"Right," he nodded in agreement, patting your waist when he was done lacing you in. "Ready, pet?"

"In a moment, yes," you sighed, reaching for a new, extravagant jewelry set - one Aemond had gifted you on your name day, the first one you shared together after you took his last name as your own.

When you were in your new gown and boots and your jewels attached properly, and your husband was changed into a new tunic, jerkin, and trousers with boots; you laced your hands together, and out the door you went. There was a growing crowd outside the courtroom, and as you drew nearer, the procession was halted to allow you passage first.

Your husband's name was announced first, and then your own; letting the two of you descend into the courtroom together. Behind you, other patrons were allowed entrance after you were a distance inside. You saw your mother and brothers standing there, smiling at her before taking your place at Aemond's side behind his family. You saw your name form on your mother's lips before she was returning your smile, only looking away when Otto Hightower, your step-grandsire and Hand of the King, took his place in front of the Iron Throne.

How wrong it looked to spy a Hightower at the legendary Throne, but you knew he was only exercising his common occupancy of being a placeholder. With the thought in mind, you let your hand press to Aemond's stomach as his hand curled around your waist; turning your attention, obediently, towards the front of the courtroom. Aegon, Helaena, and Alicent stood in front of you both, but neither you nor Aemond seemed to mind; as the second row provided optimal viewing.

Otto's voice boomed over all as he started the proceedings, "Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." He turned slightly to guide himself to the edge of the Throne's seat. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

"Oh, Gods, here we go," you whispered, your husband smirking and tightening his arm as your great-uncle stepped forward to the attention of the courts.

"Shh," Aemond shushed quietly with a smirk stretching across his lips to assure you he was entirely entertained by the events.

"My Queen," Vaemond greeted Alicent first with a respectful nod of his head. "My Lord Hand," he addressed Otto. "The history of our noble Houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our Houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name..." His voice raised to address the whole of the court, and Aemond's hand curled and pet over your waist in an effort to soothe you. "I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys' closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

You wanted to protest, but your mother, ever the protective Mama Bear, spoke first with interjection, "As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your House's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition."

Without missing a single beat, Queen Alicent was calling, "You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

You lifted your chin with a clenched jaw, watching your mother's head turn from Alicent to stare forward again, as Vaemond's smug face turned to stare her down. "What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess, outside of your only daughter?" He sneered, making Aemond's arm constrict to pulled you a step closer so you were nearly standing on top of his feet. This was what he feared, you being pulled in, but you remained silent with a hand pressed flat to your husband's chest. "I could cut our veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it." Your mother nodded, as if making a mental note of the insults he projected - not missing the veiled threat to you. "This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours."

You let out a soft huff when you could see Luke's face full of fear, looking down to your feet for a moment to recenter yourself; Aemond's thumb rubbing with reassurance - something that Daemon, your step father, clocked from his position across the way. Your hand briefly pet down his chest to then rest against his stomach again, an effort to remain close... To remain safe.

Your Uncle Vaemond turned from glowering smugly at your mother and her family, to then face the front of the room again, addressing, "My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition." You missed the way your brothers glared at your husband, who stared back with unnerve, because your own violet eyes glared at your father's uncle. "I place the continuation of the survival of my House and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor... The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

You sighed through your nose as Otto called, "Thank you, Ser Vaemond." There was a sickly pause as Vaemond nodded, your mother looking like she was visibly trembling; and your brother-by-law looked far too pleased and amused by the proceedings. Aemond kept his usual mask of neutrality, but his arm was heavy around you as your feet shifted your weight. "Princess Rhaenyra," Otto called, "you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

You smiled softly as your mother stepped up in a gorgeous black gown that had red and gold embroidery around the hemlines; coming to a halt in the middle of the courtroom to be presented. Her hands discreetly caressed the front of her pregnant belly.

"Never have I witnessed a man threaten a Princess so boldly and get away with it," she spat towards Vaemond, "and if you ever speak of my daughter again, I will ensure it be the last time you speak. Now..." She faced the front again. "If I am to grace this farce with some answer," she spat again, as she could not hold back her temper from Otto or Alicent, "I will start by reminding the court," but behind her, the throne room's door opened with a heavy clang, "that nearly 20 years ago, in this very cour - " She cut herself off, turning with shock to spy who had entered the room during an official hearing, but never did anyone imagine the late arriving newcomer.

Two guards opened the doors, and two more entered first, with only one announcing, "King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name," your mother's head snapped over to catch your eyes, both of you sharing a look of utter shock, "King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men." Otto rose from his seat on the Iron Throne slowly, staring with disbelief as your mother's father, your husband's father, your grandsire used a cane to help him hobble into the room. "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

The entire courtroom bowed in respect as nobody could believe their eyes; having the impression that King Viserys, the Peaceful, was not soon for the world. Yet here he was, dressed in his robes, golden face mask in place to his the injuries his illness has left, and with a decades-old, ancestral crown sat on his balding head, limping into the throne room. Yes, he limped severely, and yes, he required a cane, but by the Gods, this was something akin to a miracle.

You felt tears of pride swelling in your eyes, knowing the babe you grew in your womb would wreck havoc on your emotions, and in an effort to not give anyone reason to question your tears, willed them away. But it was a powerful moment to watch your grandsire, and technically, father-by-law, show the court that he is not yet done with this world, and what an entrance to make.

You knew that with Viserys present, there was no real need for Rhaenyra to give her petition. However, your eyes clocked the way Vaemond looked from the Queen to the Hand with distraught, disbelieving confusion. Your eyes cut over and met that of your step-father, your single brow perking in conversation; and he subtly gave a nod of his head before turning back to watching Viserys.

But it was obvious both you and Daemon had noticed the same motions and figured it meant Vaemond had struck some deal with the Hightowers prior to the current court hearing.

How interesting, indeed.

With worry, you asked quietly to Aemond, "Should one of us help him?"

"No, sweet girl, 's all right," he assured in your ear. "Father's a proud man," he let his forehead rest against your temple; finding your kindness a breath of fresh air in the otherwise tangibly tense room.

Aemond eventually took both of your hands in your own as if to keep you anchored at his side, but your body had turned to watch the King; and as his sunken, dried, deadened eye turned, your grandsire caught sight of your encouraging smile amongst a sea of envious Green - who all provided unsure looks of shock.

A few steps later, and he saw the relieved look on his beloved daughter's face - and Viserys knew, he made the right choice in coming today.

When he leveled with Otto, the King breathed through a wheeze, "I will sit the Throne today."

You had to hold your breath to resist the scream of laughter and excitement you wanted to give. What a moment - what a fucking moment to bear witness to. And by the small smirk on your husband's lips when his gaze darted down to meet your eyes, he was feeling something akin to pride. Aemond let loose a small snort of air out of amusement, patting your hip before gripping it once more.

"Your Grace," Otto agreed, stepping away as the King tried to make it up the stairs by himself and his cane.

The whole hall echoed the the thumps of his cane and groans, moans, and grunts of determination - as well as unfiltered pain. When his guards tried to help, King Viserys refused help, and only made it a few shuffles on his feet before the crown on his thinning head clattered to the stone floor.

But tears sprung to your eyes involuntarily when Daemon stepped up beside his brother and picked up his ancestral, golden crown.

Viserys, again, tried to refuse aid, but when he saw his brother's patient face and heard his whispered encouragement, the King allowed his brother to help him. Such a moment you were feeling privileged to witness, because what a moment it was - to see Daemon, the once scorned, reckless Prince of the City, who had been disinherited as Viserys' heir in favor of your mother, Rhaenyra, helping his weakened, sickly brother up to take his seat on the Iron Throne. He then placed the golden crown to his head, taking a moment to absorb his brother's very being, and then turn to head off the Throne's pedestal.

Daemon returned to your mother's side on the court's floor; both taking their posts around their children as your hand slid into Aemond's to hold in a vice. Viserys readjusted in his seat as your husband didn't care for your positioning, pulling you closer by your waist and settling there.

Through panting breath, Viserys called to the court, "I must... Admit... My confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. Only one present... Who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys' wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

All eyes, including yours, turned to look at your grandmother - who stood with her ward, Rhaena, who was Daemon and your aunt, Laena Velyaron's, daughter. Baela, their other daughter, had chose to remain, it seems, with her father and step-mother.

Princess Rhaenys is married to Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, where the two shared two children - you aunt Laena, and your father, Laenor; both of whom were deceased. Now, with Lord Coryls' severe wounds, it seems only his wife can provide proper insight to what his wishes are following his death.

Gods forbid it came to that...

Inclining her head, your grandmother, who was years ago passed over to succeed the Iron Throne in favor of your grandsire, Viserys, agreed, "Indeed, Your Grace." With a solemn look to her brother-by-law, Vaemond, she moved for the center of the court. When she came to a halt, she kept her voice even and diplomatic, "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor, to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him." You noticed her words drew the attention of the Greens, remaining silent. "As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena." You noted the looks your brothers offered your mother, smirking gently. "A proposal to which I heartily agree."

Your stepmother shook her head in displeasure, and you realized, while Vaemond had sought the Queen and Hand's council, your mother had alined herself with Princess Rhaenys - and it was checkmate.

Your mother had the upper hand, and now with the Princess' words, you knew she had solidified her son's position. Well played, Mother...

"Well... The matter is settled," Viserys decided. "Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon," heads turned to look at the boy, "as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

Hearing Viserys wheeze in punctuation, Rhaenys turned from her place, sending a small smirk to Rhaenyra, and moved back towards her granddaughter, your cousin and step-sister, Rhaena.

But the matter was far from settled.

"You break law..." Vaemond seethed, stepping up to the King's attention, "and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... Who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon... No... I will not allow it," he hissed in anger.

"'Allow it'?" Viserys repeated. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

You flinched gently when Vaemond turned to point an accusatory finger at your younger brother, "THAT is no true Velaryon," he turned back to the King, "and certainly no nephew of mine."

"Go to your chambers," you mother demanded of your brothers. To Vaemond, she directed, "You have said enough."

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson," Viserys reiterated. "And you... Are no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"You... May run your House as you see fit... But you will not decide the future of mine. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides!" He growled. His head whipped around to glare at Rhaenyra. "And Gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this - " He took a breath to finish his sentence but pursed his lips, reminding him that he was in the presence of the King. He held his tongue.

Across the way, you saw your step-father challenge under his breath, "Say it."

Your spine straightened as Aemond's hand rubbed deftly up and down in assurance, everyone waiting for Vaemond's next words. Even Viserys cocked his head as he waited with a pant to his lungs.

"Her children," Vaemond started quietly - but all still heard him, "are BASTARDS!"

"Hey, hey," Aemond whispered, both arms around you when you shifted in place - wanting to throw some punches, but your husband restrained you.

Anger shifted around your family, both boys doing little to hide their disrespect; you doing little to hide your acute anger. Daemon caught your eye and you saw him raise a silent finger, sighing, and relaxing into Aemond's chest. He even breathed a sigh of relief when you did, pressing a quick peck to your temple as if to thank you for backing down - saving him from a fight.

"And she..." Vaemond turned forward to tell the King, "Is... A whore."

The crowd gasped, Aemond smirked, and his arms tightened around you - despite your frozen shock. Truth of the matter was that both Laenor and Daemon had taken time to train you themselves on Dragonstone with a sword, so, you felt as if your odds at taking on the older Velaryon were better than most.

But your attention turned towards the King as he hobbled from his Throne with a hefty glare. "I..." He breathed, yanking his dagger free from his belt, but your eyes watched Daemon as he moved stoically, almost invisible to the court as they were all waiting for Viserys' judgement; the King panting, "Will have your tongue for that!"

Before you could yell not to, your step-father had unsheathed his sword and expertly cleaved Dark Sister to slice clean through Vaemond's head. You flinched some and Aemond turned his body to turn you away from the sight, blood splattering across the floor. Helaena and Alicent turned away, too, Aemond seemingly unable to look away, as Aegon only turned his head to the side with disgust.

When the dead body hit the floor with a squelch, you could see that Daemon had sliced clean through the man's skull - and only his jaw and tongue were attached - the latter flopping to the side uselessly. Standing above the body, Daemon glared down at him with Dark Sister planted to the ground, his hands folded over the hilt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon leered.

"DISARM HIM!" Otto snapped back into his senses from shock, hollering to the King's Guard; making a chorus of unsheathing swords sing.

"No need," Daemon brushed off casually, catching your eye to drop a quick, reassuring wink as he lifted his blade to wipe it clean while he moved back for his wife's side - ever the protective husband.

But you seemingly heard him first, and caught sight of Viserys' strength failing him, "Alicent - the King," you rushed to tell her.

Her head snapped around as Viserys collapsed, moaning in discomfort. "Call the Maesters!" She cried, a hand briefly squeezing your forearm in thanks before rushing up the stairs to catch her husband's failing figure.

"Father?" Rhaenyra stepped up, and while you wanted to rush for her, the King was the most pressing matter, and you paused at Aemond's side. Though the King never truly showed his sons love, you knew in some twisted way that he did; and so did Aemond in that moment, for his face showed concern while you felt his body tense.

You turned to press into his side, under his tight arm, and with your hand flat to his chest, muttered, "'S all right, love. He's got help."

He nodded mutely at you, trying to relax as a guard took Viserys under his arm - the Maester racing to the scene, and together, they helped the groaning King down from his Throne. You pet over your husband's chest as the King was escorted away, leaving Queen Alicent before the Throne, and Rhaenyra at the base of the pedestal.

How odd to see... Alicent standing above Rhaenyra. Green above Black. Hightower above the mighty Dragon.

The turn of the tide was soon to crash over the House of the Dragon, and from the image before you, you worried the Hightowers would topple the structure of your beloved family. Aemond sighed heavily, his head tilted towards your ear. "C'mon, my love. Please."

You sighed and let his hand tangle with yours, waiting for dismissal - but after the King leaves, there is little need to linger. You could not yet speak to your mother, step-father, brothers, or cousins, but you managed to catch your mother's eyes - nodding once, to which she returned the motion, and then Aemond was striding out of the hall with you in tow. His siblings might've followed, you're unsure, because your feet had to jog to catch up with your husband's elongated strides.

When you got to your chambers, he ushered you inside and shut the door before locking it. "Aemond?" You asked in a breath.

"What was that?" He asked, starting to pace the length of your room. "What the bloody hell was that? Huh!?"

"Aemond, calm yourself a moment to explain to me what you're on about."

"That!" He roared, hand held up in gesture.

"Sadly, that was just Daemon being Daemon. He's rash, my love, and has always operated by his own want, merit, and doing. He cares very little for political politeness. Even when he was heir after Viserys, before my mother, he was ruthless. He's calmed down considerably, but he is still brash. Do not let Daemon startle you - "

"I am not startled."

"Then what is this?" You asked, sighing with a gesture towards him.

"It is strange, is it not? That he can behave in such a manner?"

"He's the King's brother," you shrugged a bit.

"I am the King's son," he snapped, "and yet when his grandsons attack me, he favored them over me. Even after I was disfigured! What am I doing wrong? Hey? His brother is allowed to openly murder a man, yet I lose an eye without consequence, and for what?"

"Vaemond Velaryon offered deep, troubling, public insult to the crown heir of this kingdom," you snapped. "Nevermind he also seemed to have threatened your wife, my dear husband! Mind your fucking manners for that is still my mother and our future Queen you speak of. Vaemond decided to raise ill word to her, insulting her seed, insulting the King's seed, threatening to make me bleed, and Daemon does not handle disrespect well." You were enraged, but your heart also shattered in your chest for your husband. You stepped up so you could take his hands in your own, "But I am so sorry for what happened years ago, Aemond, I truly am, my sweet love." His hands tore from yours in favor of squeezing your waist closer to him. "It is not fair and justice was never served for your injuries, but I implore you to see that this jealousy will not get you anywhere. You forget, my young brother is heir after my mother, and my brother after is heir to Driftmark. But I, my sweet, am heir to Dragonstone. When the time is right, you and I can be away from this political foolishness and have our own homestead to rule over. You will not always endure being a second son, because you will be Lord of Dragonstone. Hmm? We will not always have reason to play by everyone else's rules."

He sighed, chuckling lightly after, "Aye, you know how to soothe me, don't you?"

"I'd be a pretty terrible wife if I did not," you teased softly. "Vaemond made a mistake, my love, and while I will not justify Daemon, I cannot say I am surprised. He is not named the Rogue Prince for nought. But I do know there will be no consequences to his actions."

"And how fair does that seem, wife?"

"It is not, husband," you sighed, "but there is little to be done."

"Like there was little to be done when I lost my eye?"

You frowned, caressing his cheek softly before reaching for both his eye patch and hair clip; releasing his silver locks first. His eye closed and his head bowed some to then let you lift the leather patch from his face. "Would you look at me? Please?" You asked softly, caressing his cheek again to let your thumb run over the under side of his scar softly. When his violet eye met your amethyst orbs, he shuddered a small breath. "The loss of your eye is truly unfortunate, and I cannot extend my deepest sympathies for it. But it does not take away from you," you let your eyes rake over the injury, the sapphire he liked to put in his bare socket almost winking at you in the torchlight. "I find you incredibly beautiful, my sweet husband." Your eyes moved to his, "And nothing is going to change my love for you. Eye or no eye... So long as your love remains mine, I do not wish for anything else. You are all I need in a husband, in a partner," his hands tightened to a bruising strength, pressing you against his front - and growing bulge, "and I love you exactly the way you are."

Aemond, a man of little words, surged forward to lock your lips in a searing kiss; earning a high-pitched whine from you. His arms locked around you, your hands gripping his neck as if he was the only thing keeping you upright. Aemond felt emotion swell in his chest and started to back you up towards the bed; leaning you down to sit on the bed, hands locked in your hair.

He smirked when your teeth pulled over his bottom lip, letting it snap back into place. "Lay back," he ordered quietly, aiding you by means of guiding your legs up to help you push back on the bed. His smirk didn't falter as he unlaced your boots and then pulled them off, caressing your bare feet after pulling your stockings off. His hands then moved up your calves, pushing the skirts of your dress up as he went. With your feet planted, he pushed your knees apart and let your skirts fall up your hips.

He let his gaze rake over you, his nose exhaling a deep sigh.

Your head cocked slightly, asking as you reached for him, "What's wrong, love?"

"Nothing," he assured swiftly, pausing to start unlacing his leather jerkin. "Just appreciating the view of my stunning wife."

You pulled yourself up onto your elbows, smiling at him, "You know this view well, do you not?"

"I will not tire of it," he nodded, finally ridding his upper half naked, much to your appreciation. "I do swear you get more beautiful as time passes. How blessed I am."

Sliding yourself to sit up, you let your hair tumble around one shoulder as you watched him. When he moved towards you again, you held a hand in pause to him, making him halt in wonder as you explained, "The pants, too, my Lord."

He smirked, "You do not wish to dispose of them yourself?"

"I want to watch you," your voice lowered, standing from the bed only to pull all your under clothes off from underneath your skirts. Dropping them at his feet, you looked him up and down as prey did predator before moving for the spare table. Pouring yourself a goblet of wine, you moved back for the bed to sit, cross your bare legs, and take a hefty sip as your brows perked. With your eyes watching your husband, you prompted, "Well? Do you mean to disobey your wife? I did not think I'd have to ask twice."

His fingers slowly, tauntingly, yanked at the leather strings of his trousers; never once breaking eye contact with you as you took another gulp. In the effort to finish your cup before he was done, you took another drawl as Aemond yanked the hips of his britches open; then shucking them from his hips.

Your head cocked with a tease, swallowing another mouthful of sweet wine as he tugged the leather trousers down his muscular thighs, and then finally, down around his calves.

"Keep going," you whispered, his hands pulling his boots free, tossing them to the side; and then finishing by freeing his legs, tossing his leather pants away. They landed near his boots, but still, his eye did not break free from yours. You finished your wine.

Slowly, your tongue licked between the seam of your lips, tasting the sweet Dornish wine Aemond preferred. You hummed lightly, smirking at your husband, making him prompt, "And now, my Princess?" He took confident steps forward, making your legs uncross to spread and welcome him. "What would you have of me, wife?"

"On your knees," you whispered when his face hovered over yours. He took the goblet from your hands and let it clatter to the floor.

"Hmm. On your back first, love," he purred in response, making you smile when his hands swiftly bunched your skirts up to your waist, lowering himself as he went until he was perfectly level with your bare cunt. He breathed across your lower wetted lips, taking a tasting lick. He hummed, "Just as I thought you could not be more perfect. Gods, you taste delectable, my sweet girl."

Before you could speak his name in reprimand, he opened his mouth, and dove tongue first into your weeping heat. All that fell from your lips were breathless moans and his name chanted like a prayer; legs spreading wider to accommodate his broad shoulders while your head tipped back in pleasure.

With desperate fingers, you pulled at your dress to free your arms and wrangle from the garment; his hand instantly shooting up your body to palm your breast with near relief, kneading it with fervor. His mouth engulfed the whole of your cunt, moving both tongue and jaw to lap at the juices you secreted from arousal.

He hummed against your clit, tongue messily wagging back and forth; hand tight on your tit, the other holding your hip in place. "Aemond," you begged shrilly, without breath; mind lost to his ministrations. Your hand tightened in his free flowing locks. "Wait, wait, wait," you panted, over come by the feeling he provided you. But he bore down, keeping you in place, and the hand that had once twisted your nipple dropped to sweep against your weeping hole.

With a wanton cry from you, his fingers pushed in, and the combined pressure of his fingers pumping in and out of you relentlessly with his lips sucking on your puckered clit sent you to heaven.

A warm flushed your body, and your blood began to sing as you were overwhelmed with the adrenaline rush - gasping for Aemond, hands fisting his hair, and keeping him close to your cunt; resulting in you releasing over his mouth, chin, and fingers.

"Ah, that's it," he praised, not relenting his finger's motions to only glance up at you, "keep going, my sweet girl, that's it. Good girl, yes," he gazed back at your cunt, speeding his fingers up when your back arched, and a moment later, a second wave crashed and Aemond was laughing as you squirted over him - again.

"Ae-Aemond," you pleaded brokenly, nearly wriggling with pleasure.

"One more, one more, one more," he grunted, one arm now holding your hips down as the other rapidly spurred into you to prod at that spongy-good spot within your walls. His drool dripped onto your puffy clit before he descended to suck his lips over you. "Yes, yes, yes, good girl, that's it, fucking soak me, go on, yes, that's my girl, one more, one more," he praised in a chant, holding you down as your hips bucked and for a final time, spewed over your husband's chin and chest.

"Oh, my Gods," you panted, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes involuntarily; chest heaving as your legs felt limp, yet simultaneously alight with a buzz. "N-No more, please. Gods..."

"Yeah? You all right, precious girl?" He chuckled, crawling up your body. He paused for a moment to finally yank your dress off you; raising your hips to help him before crashing back to the bed.

"Yeah," you panted still. "Gods, where did that come from, hey?"

"You're surprised?" he chuckled, laying beside you a moment; letting his head dip down to kiss your neck.

"No," you admitted, chuckling a bit. "Just not used to it, yet."

"Your body sings for me, pet," he whispered, letting his tongue rake up sweaty skin. After biting at your throat gently, he wondered, "Got another in you?"

"Anything for you, my Prince," you whispered, petting his cheek to raise his lips to yours. He groaned when your teeth bit his lip, making him press harder into you; bare, throbbing cock pressing into your hip. "Aemond," you begged, reaching for his twitching member; hearing his breath sharpen and stagger.

"On your stomach, sweetheart," he smirked, petting down your waist. When you felt his hand purposefully skate across your lower stomach, you worried he felt the change in your body.

"Maybe not," you pouted some.

"What's wrong?" He asked instantly.

Your hand laid over his, curling around it to hold. "Well, I'm soon to start my cycle and I believe the fish the other night wasn't good. I just feel bloated, not myself."

He hummed, "Do you feel unwell?"

"No."

"Then it is of no concern to me because you know you're perfect in my eyes," he chuckled a bit, leaning in to kiss you fully. "Let me fuck you, pretty girl."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever my Lord husband wants," you playfully rolled your eyes at him, easing from under his body to plant your feet on the ground but lay your stomach on the bed, giving your hips a quick wiggle. "Hmm?"

"Good girl," he growled, wasting no time in leaping off the bed after you; planting his feet between yours, and after giving a single sweep of his cock up your slick, he pushed his hips forward until fully sheathed inside you. The both of you moaned, and while you thought your husband often insatiable, you would not get used to his size nor girth; often craving it.

You panted beneath him, feeling his hands move from your hips to waist to your back and then your hair and to your shoulders then to waist, again. All the while, as if energized by something you could not see, his hips hammered into the back of yours; making your hands fist your sheets in tune to his low, growling grunts.

You begged his name as if for relief, but it fell on deaf ears.

Aemond was chasing his orgasm now (that had built all day), letting his fingers find your clit to rapidly toy with it; feeling your knees buckle into the side of the mattress. You let your face screw up slightly as your orgasm was damn-near blinding, nearly collapsing into the bed as Aemond's hands seized your hips to hump all the hard, all the faster.

"FUCK!" You shouted from a twinge of pain, feeling him stretching you - prodding into spots deep within your walls, and feeling your pleasure mount to new heights. Your hands once held the sheets now shot back to grab at his forearms, trying to alleviate the pressure you felt, but he did not falter - nor slow - his hammering hips.

"That's it, I know you can fucking take it, like a good fucking girl," Aemond snarled, one hand holding your hips as the other reached out to wrap in your hair and yank back. Your back bowed and your chest rose; a guttural moan ripping from your throat with near pain from the pull to your scalp. But when you were close enough, his arm helped adjust you; one hand in your hair as the other wrapped around your chest. His hips did not falter in their movements, that now pounded into you upwards. "That's my girl," his lips spoke in your ear, wetting the shell of it before giving a scrape of his teeth. "Always so fucking good for me, so wet and willing. Just sucking me in, Seven fucking Hells."

"Aemond," you whimpered now, almost delirious as one of your hands drifted down your body to finger your clit while the other helped you keep your position.

"Get there, my love," he encouraged, licking at your neck. "C'mon, pretty girl. Get there, I feel you squeezing me - lemme fucking feel you gush all over me."

It did not take long, and within a few strokes, you were tumbling over the cliffside; Aemond following only a few moments after to paint your inner walls with his hot ropes of cum. You both let yourselves fall forward to the bed, and your husband did his best to hold his balance off of you. But his chest rose and fell with trepidation, making you reach back to pet over his cheek.

His hair was damp from sweat, your own no real different.

Aemond heaved for breath as he pulled his softening cock from your cunt, shoving himself up the bed before reaching for you, and yanking you up by grabbing under your arms. You whined, naturally, but settled when he had laid you against his chest; pausing only to readjust comfortably against him, one leg hitching over his hips. "Please tell me we are done for the day?" You sighed against his flushed chest, manicured nail tracing patterns over his breast. "We're not needed elsewhere, right?"

"I believe we're done for the day, yes, my love," he sighed softly, kissing your forehead.

"Hmm," you nodded, playfully nipping at his pebbled nipple.

"Hey, now. Do not tempt me, I will take you again right now."

You grinned up at him when his arm tightened. But before you could say anything, there was a (dreaded) knock at your door. "Prince Aemond?" A servant called through the wood, making your head fall to his chest with a defeated sigh.

Your husband huffed and grumbled a curse while sitting up to yank a blanket from the bottom of your bed; swiftly covering both of your lower halves with your chest pressed to his side for protection.

"Come in," he lazily demanded, laying back to the headboard with an arm behind his head, and looking to the opening door. His other hand lazily drug calloused fingertips over the plain of your bare back, sending a legion of goose flesh over your flesh and for a shiver to shoot down your spine. "What is it?" He asked stoically of the servant.

"M-My Prince, Princess," the servant nervously stuttered, bowing with respect, "my apologies for the intrusion, but the Hand has called for a dinner later in the evening."

"I'm sorry?" Aemond snipped, making your hand thump against his chest in silent reprimand. He adjusted his tone when he asked, "What's that to mean?"

"The K-King, my Prince, has called for a dinner. The Hand is tasked with delivering the message and ensuring the royal family attends."

You sighed and whispered, "'S fine, love. Dinner sounds nice."

Aemond nodded, waving the servant out, "There a time?"

"Sundown, my Prince."

"That will be all," he dismissed with finality.

"Thank you!" You called, hearing the door shut right after. You chuckled, "You could stand to be a bit nicer, you know. It will not kill you, my love, I promise."

"They're lucky they knocked when they did. Should they have arrived minutes prior, I might've had to knock around a skull or two," he grumbled.

You chuckled slightly, "Perhaps you'd fancy a trip to the training yard, my love? Work out your frustrations with a sword?"

"Usually you offer yourself," he teased.

"I need to be able to walk if we are to have dinner with the King tonight," you covered, leaning up to peck his lips. "But I can feel your tension, just thought you'd want to hack your sword into something."

"Have another uncle I could dice up?" He teased.

"Oh, you're so bloody funny, ha-ha," you teased, feeling his lips spread in a grin across your forehead. With a sigh, you let yourself relish in the few moments more you had with your husband - before he would rise, dress, and depart, and you'd be left alone to figure out what the hell to wear that evening. You've already worn most of your dresses that concealed your swelling-belly, wondering what else was left in your wardrobe to use.

After another few moments to stretch in bed, you called for your handmaiden, Amira, and rose to tie a dressing robe over your bare figure. While you waited for her arrival, you chose proper undergarments and in an effort to save yourself embarrassment, dressed quickly before retying your robe - where moments later, Amira knocked, and began the process that would ensure you wore the perfect gown for dinner.

Something proper that would not give away the shape of your belly, and therefore, uncover your secret.

•

[ in chronological order: When Pride Married Prejudice // WPMP part two // Petitions // Distraction // The Inky Green Council // Bearer of Bad News ]

When Pride Married Prejudice

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist at the end ]

prompt: in the beginning, your mother delivers disturbing news, but perhaps, not all is as it seems.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, small angst, 150% filler, small background, author breaks the fourth wall once but go with it - i promise it works. author is also given free rein of her imagination and this came out...hmm... ❗️major season one, episode seven spoilers

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞 ❌ all taglists are discontinued

"What?" You asked begged over the sounds of the crashing waves on the cliffside your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, had lead you out to stand on. She had just delivered devastating news with a sympathetic gaze, making you beg her again, "Say it's not true, Mother, please, no, no. Th-This isn't... Mum, how could this happen?"

"I am truly sorry, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra sighed, nodding at you as her hands caressed both your cheeks to sweep stray tears as they fell. Her forehead met yours, making her whisper, "But while I could not stop the entire proposal, I was able to bargain for leeway."

"What does that mean?" You pulled back to look into her lavender eyes. They were full of sadness and regret.

"You will remain at Dragonstone with your family, so I might continue to teach you - and so you do not have to interrupt your other studies. But..." She sighed deeply, blinking a few times to clear her thoughts.

"But?"

"They want you married before you turn ten-and-eight."

"No," you blanched, shaking your head in refusal to free yourself of her comforting hold, "they cannot make me marry him. Mother, please, do not let this happen."

"I could only barter for us a few years yet, my love."

"This is the payment they demand?"

"Better this, my sweet dove, then that of blinding your brother," she countered with a frown. "The Queen was unwilling to barter at first, but the King thought it a rightful proposal."

"And who, might I ask, offered my hand to Aemond Targaryen for payment over a childish squabble - that, yes, did maim the boy, but that's not... It's not like... Oh, Gods, yes, okay, when I say it out loud, I suppose I can understand the reasoning. Then why does this still feel so wrong, Mother?"

She frowned and reached for you, pulling you in closer to hold. You clung to her in fright, allowing yourself a moment of rare vulnerability as you stood alone; the only sounds around you, that, of the temperamental sea. She spoke softly in your ear, "I am truly so very sorry, my sweet girl. I am." Her hand pet the back of your head, but her grip remained strong. "But there is honor in fulfilling one's duty. I wanted very different things for you, but fate is funny at times."

You tightened your hold on her. "Tell me the truth, Mother, what's happened?"

She sighed and laid a long, solemn kiss to the top of your head. "You are of an age now that you will understand." She gave a soft pinch to your chin, "And have always been much too mature for your age."

You chuckled softly, "I often think there's much you don't know about me. I am not the perfect child you've tried to mold me into."

"Oh, I know everything, my girl," she grinned, making you feel heated from embarrassment. "You were truly restless as a child, it was hard to keep you within the castle walls. But might I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"Ser Harwin was always looking after you," she chuckled. "He would take extra shifts in the night to patrol the city just to ensure you were safe. But what he reported back always made my heart swell with genuine pride."

"Might I tell you a secret?" She nodded and let one hand hold your upper arm and the other to caress an unruly strand of hair back behind your ear. "I always wondered if one day, you would name me your heir... So, when I could not sleep, I liked to linger around the city. I liked knowing the people, thinking, if I were to ever govern them, I'd better know them best."

"See?" She nodded. "Always far too mature for your age. Yet the matter of succession with us has differed..." You braced yourself. "You are my eldest child, and my only girl," she spoke fondly. "And when my Father named me his heir, going against decades of tradition, I always promised myself that I would not do the same to my daughter unless I had no choice. I would never make her endure what I was forced to. Yet, you were still young when Jace was born, and your Father and I had a conversation. Should the matter come up publicly, you were always to be heir to Dragonstone, and that was the end of the matter. When Luke was born... Things shifted again, but only just. You were still my heir to our home, but now, Jace is to be my heir after I take the Throne, and then Luke is to succeed his father's birthright to Driftmark."

"And now? With Joffrey?"

"Much will be discussed later," she promised. "But I have declared to the King that you are to inherit our home on Dragonstone, and there is no change in that. He approved, but..."

"But what?"

"He also approved of your hand being offered," she swallowed thickly.

"You would tell me in truth what has happened?" You nodded, holding onto her waist to keep yourselves anchored. She nodded, sighing deeply before starting her tale.

And yet, Dear Reader, to fully understand, we need to go back.

• // •

Your hand was held tightly in your father's ever since he received news of his beloved sister, Laena Velaryon, passing away due to complications from childbirth. In an effort to avoid being sliced open and bleeding out to death, Laena had risen from her bloody birthing bed, and hobbled outside to beg her dragon, Vhagar, to let her meet her end through dragon fire.

Neither your Mother, nor Father, the Lord Laenor, knew you had snuck into the study and read the scroll sent to them by your Great Uncle Daemon - who gave an honest recount of events.

Now, he and his two twin daughters, your cousins, Rhaena and Baela, were flying from across the Narrow Sea to lay the charred bones of Laena to rest on her ancestral home. And because Laena was a Velaryon before she took the name Targaryen, she was to be launched into the sea by means of an intricately carved coffin.

She'd rest with other Velaryon's at the bottom of the raging waters.

Laenor stood stoically as his Uncle Vaemond spoke in High Valyrian, proceeding over the funeral service as your entire family - both Velaryon and Targaryen - had gathered to pay their respects. Laena's coffin, which was carved to encapsulate her ethereal beauty, was set to a launching-cliff, and ropes were thread around to push and plunge her into the crashing waves beneath.

However, as Vaemond spoke clearly above them all, he was offering dirty, hardened looks to your Mother as she held your younger brothers around the shoulders. For a moment, you thought it looked as if they were shielding their mother, and you, who had inherited the Velaryon-Targaryen trademark features, stood between them and your father; creating a visual divide, unknowingly.

But you didn't think that way.

Your only concern right now was being there for your sweet, honorable Father, as he grieved silently with tears sliding down his cheeks. His hand was tight, and you knew he drew strength from your presence.

Daemon stood across the way, somewhat beside Vaemond, and could observe those around him as he stood with his hands crossed in front of him. Vaemond's words were veiled with threat, head turning to stare directly at your mother, "Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true." King Viserys even recognized the tone; sparing a look to his daughter, who pulled her sons closer. "And ours must never run thin."

And then, oddly, Daemon started to chuckle.

Oh, one could chalk it up to hysteria of a grieving husband, but you knew better. You were a sponge in the courts and listened to everything said; forming your own opinions and often needing to sort through what you'd heard to form something of a mixed-truth.

You knew of the rumors surrounding your Great Uncle and his niece, your Mother, Rhaenyra... And this moment, where he literally giggled to himself, was in an effort to get the attention off of your Mother - and shift those beady eyes who offered her judgement onto himself.

You knew half-truths, mostly content to observe and just listen. It served you well enough - now, a perfect moment to see through Daemon's hysteria. He was offered nothing but silent, dirty glares - most of which came from your grandparents, the Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen; who stood, comforting Daemon's children while still grieving their own lost daughter.

Two young girls who had lost their mother and were watching her about to be laid to rest... And their Father laughs?

While Velaryon blood ran thick with salt, Targaryen blood was hot with fire - and the devastating need to protect one another. In those moments, Daemon felt the burning, pressing need to protect Rhaenyra over comforting his own daughters - something you'd come to grow used to.

The ropes were tightened, and your Father's arm wrapped around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug; something you returned with tight arms. He needed you, and you were there for him.

Salt was thrown over the coffin as it was edged over the cliff and Vaemond gave the final words of service. Just before Laena was plunged over the edge, he spoke, "From the sea we came. To the sea, we shall return."

•

The day had passed sluggishly and after a meal, you found yourself still with your father - but watching him sadly wade in the waters lapping at the rocky shoreline of the island. Dragons flew above you all, and once or twice, you saw your great emerald beast circling the island; playfully soaring around other (smaller) dragons.

"Daddy?" You called from the shoreline, feeling your nerves spike the longer you stood there. The sun was moving into position to sink and knew the hours grew later. "Daddy? Maybe we should go in now? 'S getting a bit cold - the waters are freezing! Daddy! Come in, please!"

He did not respond, he just stood there; waist-deep in the tide with you watching on the shoreline. Your fingers twisted together in nervousness, feet shifting in the weighty sand.

"Father! Please, come inside with me?" You tried again, but to no avail. He had waded out there after the funeral's dinner, and while everyone gathered on the stone courtyard for drinks and mingling, your father had fancied a walk. For an hour now, he's been standing in the water.

Your head looked up towards where you knew the courtyard was, and caught sight of your grandsire glaring down at your father. He frowned when he caught your eye, then nodded, waving for you to come up. You nodded in return, looking to your father once more.

"Daddy, I have to go in, it's getting late," you tried. "I do not wish to leave you, come with me, please."

"Go on, my sweet darling," Laenor finally croaked - but did not turn.

You sighed with defeat and turned for the archway, hustling up the stone stairs, and just as you reached the top, Ser Qarl was rushing towards you. "Princess," he muttered with a nod, making you smile.

"He will not come in, even for me," you spoke softly, "good luck. Might have to force him out."

"Of course, thank you, Princess," He nodded and darted past you, letting you enter the courtyard finally. There were respectful nods from those who attended the funeral; most offering words of condolences before you caught the eye of the King.

Approaching the two men, you bowed with respect and laid a hand to your Uncle Daemon's arm. "I mean no intrusion, Your Grace, my Prince," you nodded to them both, "and apologize for the interruption I pose, I only mean to extend my condolences to you, Uncle. How sorry I am for your Lady wife, and for this loss you feel."

He nodded, letting his free hand pat over your own. "Thank you, my gentle niece."

"My Prince," you nodded, "Your Grace."

As you took your leave, you heard Viserys offering Daemon to return to King's Landing - to court, or other. You did not hear the rest, finding your mother in the crowd and making a beeline for her through a slew of distant family and members of court offering their words of sorrow.

"Sweet girl," she sighed when she embraced you. "Are you all right? Where is your Father?"

"I could not get him to come in with me," you admitted with shame. "He prefers to stand in the waters, I think it makes him feel close to Laena... Like they're both together again, if only in the tide."

She sighed, petting over your head, "You shoulder too much of your Father's grief, my sweet girl."

"It is never more than I can handle, Mother," you assured. "My skin has grown thick and there is little else to be whispered that can faze me now. My Father needs me, and I am happy to fulfill that duty."

Truth was, once upon a time when you lived in King's Landing, your older cousin, Aegon, started to publicly tease you for being a "Daddy's Girl," and let that come churn-up negative connotations. Rumors grew and festered because of your complexion, where your skin was shades lighter than Laenor's and had bright white hair - while your brothers were pasty-skinned with dark hair.

Aegon liked to tease you for your close relationship and others joined in, thinking it got under your skin. Thinking it was something to laugh about when your Father started to train you beyond what others thought "acceptable". He was your biggest supporter, and helped you push yourself to new limits with horse riding, sword fighting, archery, even just a bit of spear throwing. Laenor and Coryls even once took you on an adventure at sea, where you learned the 'ropes' of sailing and how to fish "properly". You never let the snide comments and vile words taint your view of your "Daddy" because you knew the truth.

Plus, you could just say to Aegon, "You wouldn't know a Father's love even if it slapped you in the face." That shut him up every time.

Rhaenyra smiled at you and gently caressed your cheek, but movement behind your shoulder caught her attention. When you turned to stand at her side with her arm around your waist, you noticed your Uncle Daemon surging past everyone - but stopped when Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, who had a public distaste for the Rogue Prince, stopped him to mutter something. You imagine it was condolences, but you were too far to hear it.

When Daemon managed some comment and then escaped down stone stairs, you mother looked around cautiously. "Mother," you warned through the corner of your mouth. "I would not, now is not the time."

"Hush now, my girl, come with me," she sighed, taking your hand, and leading you towards your brothers. When you reached them, she stooped to speak to them, "Your sister is in charge, do as she says, but I want you all to go to bed."

"But, Mother - "

She cut Jace off, "Go to bed."

With a meaningful look to you, you understood and gave her a reassuring nod with a squeeze to her hand; often thinking your minds were connected by some string - making nonverbal communication essential between you. You often found that was what you searched for in a person, first. How their body spoke, despite the words their mouths form.

"Come on, let's say goodnight," you coaxed your brothers, turning to your grandmother and cousins first. You knelt before them, offering, "My sweet cousins, I cannot say how sorry I truly am for this loss. But should you need it, I am here for whatever you need."

"Thank you, cousin," Rhaena whispered, leaning forward to hug you.

"I'm only a few doors down," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. You bid Baela a goodnight as well, letting your brothers step up as you helped your grandmother to her feet. She smiled at you and pet over a lock of hair. "We're going to bed, Grandmother, I will see you in the morning, yes?"

She nodded, sparing a glance to the kids before taking you a few steps from them. She sighed, "How's Laenor?"

You frowned, "He would not come in from the sea, Grandmother. Not even for me..."

"He always had a soft spot for you," she sighed, "surely, if you can't get him in, he'll have to be moved."

You nodded, "I did try."

"You did incredible," she praised, taking both cheeks in hand. "I have heard nothing but songs of how you have been the support your father needs. Thank you for being there."

"It is the least I can do after all he's done for me," you whispered. "I only wish I could take his pain. It is a weight that I fear he is buckling under slowly."

Rhaenys sighed and nodded. "I fear for it, too, my sweet. All right, well," she sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "You get some sleep, some well-deserved rest. You've had a day."

"We all have," you whispered, taking her hands in yours, "and Grandmother? I-I want to tell you that I am sorry for you loss. No parent should ever have to bury their child."

She sighed and nodded, squeezing your hands. "You have always been the sweetest girl - and I am so proud to be your Grandmother. I love you, thank you for your words."

Your eyes shut and let her lean in to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too," you promised, smiling at her when your eyes opened to her softened gaze. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she nodded, letting go of you so you could take your little brothers under your arms.

"Grandfather," you spoke to Corlys as you approached. "I hate to interrupt, but we are off to bed and wish to say goodnight."

He gave you all a smile and gentle hugs, speaking softly, "Goodnight, my dears. I'll see you in the morning." Finding no other family members that you cared enough to speak to, you lead your brothers into the Driftmark castle.

You nodded to those you passed, easily navigating the boys to their rooms and did not leave until they were changed and in bed properly.

"Sister?" Luke whimpered.

"Yes, my sweet?" You paused to turn back to him, single candle in your hand and one on his bedside table.

"I-Is Ser Harwin truly gone?"

You sighed, pausing to sit on his bed and pet some hair off his forehead. "I'm afraid so, sweet boy. But Mother speaks true, the Strongs are not our kin and we are needed here. But that does not mean you cannot mourn him, Luke. He was a gallant knight and truly felt part of our family - though he was not our blood."

He nodded, "Could we say prayers for him?"

"Of course," you agreed. "I'll say one for him tonight, too, all right?"

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you lean in to peck his forehead.

"I love you," you promised, letting a finger push the button of his nose.

"I love you, too," he nodded, snuggling into the blankets. "Good night."

"Good night, sweet boy," You whispered, blowing out his bedside candle and parting ways with your own single candle in a holder. You shut their door and moved for your own room, but just before you could prepare yourself for bed, you heard a strangled roar from your opened windows.

It could've been any dragon, but something felt familiar about this sound.

Something felt wrong and you were quick to change into a pair of trousers, a tunic, and boots; rushing off from your room with the intention of checking on your dear, sweet Kasta. She wasn't by any means the largest around but she showed no sign to stop growing - making her rival a few older dragons already. You worried she was being challenged, and easily snuck from the castle walls.

However, you gasped when you rounded a cliffside and almost ran straight into someone.

"You!"

"Aemond! Gods!" You hissed, glancing around and pushing him towards a small alcove of the cliffs in case of any patrolling guards. "What're you doing out at this hour? You should be in bed!"

"What're you doing out? You should be in bed, too," He retorted quickly.

You narrowed your eyes, "I have reason - "

"Maybe I do, too."

You hummed, eyeing him a moment. "What if we agreed to go about our business - never seeing each other, hey?"

He considered it before nodding. "Deal. I didn't see you, you didn't see me."

"Exactly," you chuckled to your 'uncle', though you were 18 months older than him. It was strange, indeed. "Whatever you're doing, just be careful, Aemond."

He nodded, "Yeah. You, too, Y/N."

You both snuck away in opposite directions - where you made for the mouth of the Dragon Pit, and Aemond, in the direction of open sand dunes. You were curious and considered following him, but you were distracted by wanting to check on Kasta more.

After sneaking beneath the Pit, you could not locate your great beast and didn't know if you felt relief or not. So, you spent the better part of an hour searching for the emerald green beast, sighing with relief when she was located at last. Only after you had to scale a fucking cliff, but she was worth it.

"Kasta," you panted in High Valyrian upon approach, the lazy dragon lifting her head from the sandy nest she'd made. "What're you doing, my girl? Hey?" You chuckled lightly, hearing her whine lowly. You sat at her head, giving it a loving stroke. "It is warm in there?" She lipped at your hands, making you wonder, "You okay? I heard something and worried it was you - that you might've been in trouble?"

She growled lightly, lifting her head in interest when the distinct beating of wings was heard - along with a voice shouting in exhilaration. You lifted your head to spy Vhagar circling the island, curiosity peaking; but also assuring you that it was not your dragon that you heard before.

"I thought Vhagar had no rider?" You questioned Kasta, but the dragon lifted her head to stare into your eyes - giving a knowing look. "I see," you whispered.

There was a shuddering quake to the ground, and you knew somewhere nearby, a dragon landed. When your own dragon gave a soft snarl, you felt something on the back of your neck stand on end. She left her head fall back down as you stood.

Unknown to you, your siblings and cousins had searched for you in your rooms before deciding to confront Vhagar's newest rider by themselves. Yet, unknown to them, you were expertly scaling down the cliffside to rush for the Dragon Pit.

Yet, you were still too late.

Aemond had Luke by the throat - all the kids bloodied and bruised to some capacity - and with a large, jagged rock in a raised hand above his head, Aemond was threatening, "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards!"

"Aemond! NO!" You raged, rushing to the scene out of pure panic from seeing your younger siblings, cousins, and uncle all bearing marks of a fight.

"My father's still alive!" Luke struggled in Aemond's grip, sobbing.

"So, he doesn't know, does he, Lord Strong?" Aemond snipped at Jace with a sneer, and to your shock, Jace then brandished a dagger.

"NO!" You finally made it to them; first yanking the two girls further back for safety, but it left time for your brothers to attack. "JACE!" You screamed with Baela, trying to keep them back as the boys were so intertwined in a fight, you could not intercede them. And with a dagger in play, you did not risk being an accidental casualty.

Aemond had thrown back Luke and wacked Jace in the head with the rock - knocking both to the floor in whimpering pain.

"All right, that's enough, hey, hey, no more - no fucking more," you stepped in, hands held in peace. "No, you've all made your points - Aemond, please," you begged when your uncle rose the rock above his hand again, smirking in taunt, with the intention of bashing Jace's head in. "Aemond - think for a moment, do not do this," you tried to reach for him, but it was too late. Jace threw a handful of sand to Aemond's face, blinding him a moment, and leaving time for Luke to pick up the forgotten dagger. "NO, LUKE, DON'T!"

But it was far too late.

Luke swung his brother's dagger upward and sliced through Aemond's face - both boys screaming. One in exhilaration and the other in unfiltered pain.

"NO!" You screamed again, reaching Luke first and making him drop the dagger by wrangling his wrist in your hand; your adrenaline pumping so harshly that you didn't realize when the blade sliced through the skin of your palm. You turned quickly, only vaguely hearing the Knight's Guards arriving. "Aemond, Aemond," you begged, taking hold of the moaning and groaning Prince. "Oh, let me see, let me see, c'mon, lad, 's all right, let me have a look," you hushed, huddling over him for privacy and coaxing his hand away. "Gods be good," you hissed, snapping his hand back in place and using your own to add pressure. Both of your hands bloodied within seconds. "Hold pressure, hold the pressure," you told him softly, looking up to see the White Cloaks. "L-Lord Commander, the Prince Aemond needs a Maester at once."

"Let me see," he knelt.

"No, no, it needs pressure for the bleeding," you told him, keeping firm hold on your distant uncle. "Come, help me get him to his feet."

"What happened?" He demanded, doing as you bid.

"I do not know, I arrived too late," You covered, helping Aemond but turning to walk at his back to keep hold over his hand, over the sliced eye he was basically holding in socket.

It was pure chaos from then on, and once you were all gathered in the throne room, the Maester took over.

"Y/N!? Aemond!? Oh, my Gods! What has happened!?" Alicent demanded as she rushed into the room; Viserys limping with his cane in hand not far behind her.

"In a moment, Your Grace," you pleaded, the boy sitting with your hands still holding in injury.

"I need to see the wound, Princess," the Maester frowned.

"All right," you agreed with him, and then looked to your uncle. "Easy, easy, easy, it's gonna gush a little," you whispered, your bloodied hand peeling Aemond's with your own to give sight to the full injury.

You could've thrown up from the sight, but only stepped away as more members of court arrived on scene and the Maester was swooping in.

Turning to Alicent, you explained, "In truth, Your Grace, I do not know much - other than the boy has been maimed. I read it's important to hold pressure to injury before a professional can take over, so, I only helped the Prince do that," you showed your bloodied hands.

"Dear girl," Viserys took your one hand, "you're bleeding on your own, I can see the cut."

"Oh, i-it's just a small cut, Your Grace," you nodded swiftly.

"How did you come by it?" Viserys demanded. His voice then lowered as he bowed his head to tell you privately, "You alone have always told your Grandfather the truth, do not let that change now."

You gulped but held your head up to tell him quietly, his withered hand still holding your wrist, "When I disarmed Lucerys, Your Grace."

"Why were you not in bed?" Alicent asked.

"In truth, I heard a dragon roar, and it sounded so familiar, I worried it was my dragon, Kasta. She's larger than some and still grows, I worried she was being challenged and then feared she was hurt. I was only out of bed, Your Grace, to check on Kasta, I swear it."

Viserys' eyes flashed to gaze heatedly over the others gathered from after the fight - but otherwise, just sighed. He nodded at you, "You're not at fault for worrying. Go on. Clean your hands, dear girl, let someone bind them."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you whispered, nodding with a small smile, "Grandfather."

He smiled briefly in return and patted your shoulder as you turned with dismissal, a handmaiden stepping up to help you wash your hands of blood in a basin and then examine the 'wound'. "It is shallow, Princess," she informed with a nod of her head. "It will heal, but I will bind it to help protect it. Perhaps avoid a sword in this time."

You smiled mutely and nodded, letting her work as the room was stewing in anger and tension as more and more members of the court showed up.

You waited patiently for your mother, letting your anxiety fester to new heights as you began to understand, as the eldest present to the scuffle, you'd be expected to recount events. But you didn't know all of the situation, only what the children had tried to tell you in a jumbled rush on your way there. But they didn't get far as the guards couldn't stand their squabbling, telling them to silence themselves until the King asked for explanation.

As the Maester worked, Viserys was demanding answers of the Lord Commander Westerling, and his Guards; who were not watching the Princes, and therefore, assumed fault for letting everything get to this point. By extension, as second in command with the Queen's Guard, Ser Criston Cole stood under interrogation, as well.

And the King was beyond angry; making you gently flinch when his voice turned hateful towards his guards.

Your hands were wrapped, and you moved along the edge of the crowd to then take a seat on the stone stairs that lead to the throne room to take a moment and think about what you witnessed. You needed time to absorb it all, to just think; to digest.

From beside the light of the hearth, Alicent, watching the Maester work on stitching Aemond's wound closed, asked, "It will heal, will it not, Maester?"

He paused a moment, the room turning towards the Maester and Prince for the answer; and your head lifted to listen. Your brothers stood beside one another without any cleaning to their wounds - simply because they were still on trial for this entire ordeal.

The Maester answered, "The flesh will heal, I'd wager because the Princess Y/N acted quickly to hold pressure." Eyes turned to you as you felt tears of embarrassment and anxiety fill your eyes, bowing your head to avoid their gazes. "But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

Both of Aemond's parents looked genuinely distraught as you finally stood to near your brothers; taking each of them under your arms. They noted the bandages on your hand, but did not get to comment as the Queen was rounding on her eldest son, Aegon, to demand, "Where were you?"

"Me?" Aegon asked, gasping when his mother's hand clapped against his cheek to whip his head to the side. "Ow!" He yelped, "What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!" Alicent hissed, teeth bared; her anger tangible.

The doors above you clanged open, and Corlys charged through them, demanding, "What is the meaning of this!?"

"Baela? Rhaena!" Rhaenys gasped, following her husband down the stairs. "What happened? What happened?" She asked, taking the girls instantly into her arms.

Corlys looked around with a fierce gaze, standing before you lot as you tightened your hold on the boys. Not a moment later, your mother was finally opening the doors - looking spooked by the news she received. "Jace?" She looked around - and when she located you three, she was shouting, "Luke!"

You stepped back to let your mother kneel before the boys; and felt a hand smooth around your shoulders. Looking up, Corlys brought you into his side for a tight hug. Your bandaged hand laid on his stomach, making him take it up and examine it with a tight jaw.

"Show me, show me," your mother rushed to your little brother, pulling Luke's hands from his face and revealing his own injury. "Who did this?"

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted from his seat.

"He attacked Baela!" Jace shouted back.

"He broke Luke's nose!" Baela shouted, and then, the over-lapping voices were too great and many to make out. Yet, bits and parts met your ears as Uncle Daemon arrived on scene, and chose to lean on the door with crossed arms instead of rush for his injured daughters. You did not speak, Corlys and you stood silently and listened.

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"Enough," Viserys demanded, but the children still shrilly argued.

"He was going to kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Enough!" Viserys tried again.

"It should be my son telling the tale!" Alicent joined the efforts.

"He called us - "

But Viserys roared over everyone, cutting Jace off, "SILENCE!"

The room echoed with the aftermath of ringing voices; everyone shying into themselves, and making your father's father tighten his hold around your shoulders. Behind you, your brother whispered to your mother, "He called us bastards."

Rhaenyra stood in thought and kept the bloody boys behind her, sharing a small look with you as her eyes skated over your bandage. But nothing could be said as her hands came to wring together as Viserys called, "Aemond..." His cane struck the stone with each step he took, "I will have the truth of what happened... Now."

"What else is there to hear?" Alicent interjected. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident," Rhaenyra swiftly defended - but even she sounded shaken.

"Accident," Alicent repeated, Corlys pulling you back a step to let your mother be seen. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

You wanted to correct her that it was Jace's dagger and Luke only picked it up when her son meant to bash in Jace's head - but now wasn't the time, because your mother was snarling in defense, "It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves." You nodded in agreement, and Viserys saw the motion. "Vile insults were levied against them."

"What insults?" Viserys questioned.

It was silent before Rhaenyra responded, "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."

"What?" The King asked.

"He called us bastards," Jace spoke up, making the room go still. This was the confrontation everyone was waiting on...

"Y/N?" Viserys asked, making you tense up.

"What?" Rhaenyra turned to you. "You were involved?"

"I only arrived at the end," you shook your head. "I do not know what was said or done in full," you begged to the King to understand through your words, and it seemed, your other Grandfather did by how he shifted slightly in front of you. "Though, yes, the word 'bastard' was hurled as insult, Your Grace..."

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," your mother swept back in, making you shudder a breath. "This is the highest of treasons..." Her words settled over everyone. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

Aemond had turned in his seat to glare at your mother, his older sister; making the King look down at him. But it was the Queen who asked the Princess, "Over an insult? My son has lost an eye - possibly his life, should your daughter not of been there!"

Viserys looked again to Aemond, asking, "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"

"The insult was training yard bluster," Alicent tried to save. "The lot of boys. It was nothing."

"Aemond..." Viserys prodded. "I asked you a question."

To save her son from answering, Alicent asked, "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

"Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?" Viserys agreed, eyes looking to your mother.

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... Could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk," You mother answered.

"Entertaining his younger squires, I would venture," the Queen snipped, making some in the court smirk and snicker as the insult registered.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," you pushed away from Corlys to face Alicent and the King, but your gaze was set on the redheaded woman, "because I understand you are distraught from your son's injury, but do not mistake that for giving you leave to openly insult my father, or add fuel to such allegations. This is not the training yard, Your Grace, leaving no room for bluster. Mind your manners."

"Come here, girl, and hush yourself," Corlys sighed, pulling you back to his side. He sighed as Viserys chose to ignore your comment, which made the Queen stiffen her spine and avoid your heated gaze.

"Aemond... Look at me," Viserys directed to his son, making the One-Eyed Prince meet his father's angered, hardened eyes. "Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

You didn't see the Prince's eyes cut over to his mother, but saw the King straighten his spine to look at his wife - and knew.

It was as if a collective breath was held as the King was then told by his son, "It was Aegon."

"Me?" Aegon repeated quietly, looking truly shell-shocked to be thrown into the mix. You sighed gently.

The King now turned his sights on his eldest son, growling, "And you, boy?" He stalked up to the taller kid. "Where did you hear such calumnies?" But when his son did not answer, nor meet his gaze, the King shouted, "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"

With a tremble to his tone, Aegon spoke, "We know, Father." He met his father's gaze, "Everyone knows... Just look at them," his lip curled, "and then look at her. She is true-born, that cannot be disputed."

Your chin lifted as your glare turned deadly, daring anyone to say more as the King was silently surveying the room. But he chose not to pursue this further, and snapped, "This interminable infighting must cease!" His cane punctuated his words. "All of you! We are family!" He only glanced at Aemond, perhaps finding the injury too gnarly to look at longer; turning his gaze to the room again. "Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

But nobody spoke as the King's words did not feel truly fair. Perhaps, the others were going to wait for him to leave to 'handle' this situation, but before he could, Alicent was speaking, "That is insufficient." The King turned to hear her words. "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken!" Alicent refused her husband's words.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys growled.

"There is a debt to be paid," she decided, and the room went still. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."

Heads turned to look at your mother and brothers, and you broke away to then stand at your mother's side and kept Lucerys behind you. The crowd muttered with discomfort as the King approached the Queen, "My dear wife..."

"He is your son, Viserys," She begged through her tears. "Your blood."

"Do not," Viserys warned, "allow your temper to guide your judgement."

That was supposed to be that, but chaos still rained. She spoke defiantly, "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

"Mother!" Luke gasped, and she kept him back and between you.

"Alicent," Viserys tried.

"He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son," Alicent sneered.

"You will do not such thing," Rhaenyra defended and your hands tightened on your brother.

"Stay your hand," Viserys demanded.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent refused with a shout, making it known she was desperate for action. And eyes turned for Cole, knowing he was nothing better than her leashed dog.

"As your Protector, my Queen," Cole refused - a smart decision.

"Alicent, this matter... Is finished," The King leered fiercely. "Do you understand?" It was quiet as the woman did not respond, everyone watching as Viserys turned from the room; but paused to address, "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons," he then directed at Alicent, sneering, "should have it removed."

"Thank you, Father," Your mother spoke softly from her place, something making the hair on your neck stand on end. You did not turn as your mother did, lowering herself to speak to her sons - you watched the Queen.

And thankfully, you did.

You watched her stride for Viserys and yank a dagger from his belt and turn. "Mother!" You gasped, stepping in front of her protectively as the Queen charged.

"Alicent!" Viserys screamed.

"Stay with the King!" Westerling demanded of Cole as he followed Alicent. "HOLD YOUR APPROACH!"

"My girl!" Rhaenyra pushed you out of the way in time to step forward and take hold of either of Alicent's wrists. It was chaos as they engaged; everyone trying to space out and move from the way as the King's Guards were tangled amongst each other.

Luke screamed shrilly in fear as your mother took on Alicent. You wanted to turn for the boys and huddle them close, but Corlys was back at your side, and together, you both stood as pillars in front of them while Princess and Queen struggled against one another.

"Stay your hand, Cole!" Westerling demanded of the disobedient knight; making Daemon push off his post to intercept the man.

"You've gone too far!" Your mother struggled with Alicent.

"I?" The Queen repeated breathlessly. "What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law! While you flout all to do as you please!"

"Alicent! Let her go!" Viserys demanded.

"Mother!" You worried, wondering if you should step in. Would you be reprimanded for cutting down the Queen? You eyed the sword at your Grandsire's hip - leaving it open for you to take.

Yet, you dare not.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?" Alicent spoke tearfully still. "It's trampled under your pretty foot, again!"

"Release the blade, Alicent!" Otto, the Queen's father, called from the end of the hall.

"And now you take my son's eye," she told your mother, "and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Your mother countered. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness." She whispered, "But now they see you as you are."

Alicent shouted in anger; the women pushing away from each other and blade sliced through flesh. Corlys and you both caught your mother when she was flung back, but the sounds of trickling blood pattering onto the floor drew your attention.

"Mum," you worried when her wrist was sliced open to let blood drip freely down her hand, through her fingers; pooling to the stone floor beneath you. "Gods," you whispered, looking up in shock, muttering for those who did not see, "you cut her."

"Darling," your mother hushed, but you were grabbing at her wrist to try to hold pressure - like you were trained to do.

It was silent besides that as everyone waited for the next move to be made. Nobody did until Prince Aemond stepped into the circle; earning the attention of those lingering.

"Do not mourn me, Mother," the Prince spoke softly, looking at Alicent. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... But I gained a dragon."

Vhagar had a new rider.

"This proceeding is at an end," Viserys decided, giving everyone a stern look. Cole wrangled free and Daemon stalked forward to crowd you closer to your mother; Luke coming up to hold your waist as you were holding the wound as tight as possible.

Aemond moved to hug his mother in comfort, something you were doing in your own way. Jace took the rear, and stood with Daemon and Corlys, giving Alicent a first look at the family that would bring ruin to her own. But your mother, too, got a good look at the family who would bring your own doom.

"Could we please see to this?" You asked, nodding at the blood that seeped, again, from between your fingers.

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed. "Perhaps in our rooms."

"Let's go," you pleaded, offering the Hightower Queen one more glare before turning with your mother to keep the pressure on her wound.

• // •

"I sought an audience early this morning," your mother explained softly, "before the King and Queen were to depart for King's Landing. And I know it is feeling unfair, my girl, and I do not want to see you go, but the tension can not fester beyond this. Vengeance is a powerful weapon, and I would not see my family harmed for something as petty as this. My hope is that with Viserys around, they will warm up to you, and you will be safe."

"So, after you sent Jace, Luke, and I away this morning, you and Father discussed, what? Selling me off?"

"I know it hurts," she relented, but you sighed.

"No, no, I am only being jealous."

"Of what, sweet girl?"

"Perhaps of not having a cock of my own, so that I might have some say in these matters. Or maybe I am merely jealous of the idea of leaving you while the boys stay. Yet, at least, I will have some time with you yet before I am to marry - not many Ladies can say they have that luxury."

She took a sobering breath, "I knew you'd understand. But for all it can be worth, I am sorry."

You nodded, sighing, "For our family's honor, and for Luke's full vision, I will marry Prince Aemond when the time comes..."

"My girl," she breathed with relief, bringing you in for a bone-crushing hug. After a moment, she pulled back to sniffle; and just over your heads, three of the royal dragons took flight - with Vhagar swooping low to the waters before following the King's ship.

You both paused to stare after them.

"Do you trust them, Mother?"

Rhaenyra sighed, "I trust my father, but the Hightower claws are dug deep." You both breathed for a moment. "You will be a single spot of Targaryen Black in a sea of Hightower Green, my love. Our House words must not be forgotten..."

Your chin lifted, knowing in heart, you would always be a Targaryen Dragon more than a Velaryon Sea Horse - telling her gently, "Fire and Blood..."

"When the time comes," Rhaenyra sighed, "I can only pray I leave you with dragon scales instead of skin - so that their green flames do not burn you, my sweet girl."

You smirked gently at her, "Mother, fire - whether Green or not, cannot kill a dragon. Though I know I've salt in my veins, too, it is the blood of Old Valyria, and fire will be my ally."

Rhaenyra sighed and turned to pull you in closer with a kiss to your head. "I know it is sudden news, but we still have years with each other. Much will change, but I will never leave you feeling unprepared." Movement, again, caught her eye over your shoulder; making her sniffle and sober up. "Go on, go now. Find your brothers for me, please."

You agreed, and after a kiss to her cheek, left her be; passing your silent Great Uncle Daemon along the way with only a head nod of acknowledgement.

•

Time on Dragonstone was never the same. Days after laying your Aunt Laena to rest, you lost your own father, Lord Laenor, to a petty quarrel he had with his lover, Qarl. The lad was never found, apparently somewhere lost to the Stepstones, but the anger never dissipated. Your mother had welcomed the Knight into the family, and he turned blade on your father?

In Laenor's father's hall?

The devastating blow was hardest on you, who could not grieve far enough. You internalized a lot of it, but your brother's tried to help you shoulder it all - yet this was a path you walked alone. Seemingly only days after that, on your ancestral home, your mother then married her Uncle Daemon, and your cousins Baela and Rhaena were now your step-sisters.

They lived with you all on Dragonstone and your mother took your education very seriously. Professors came into port to be guests of the castle, dedicating hours upon hours a day to tutor you in a broad arrangement of subjects.

History, philosophy, reading, philanthropy, writing, specialized tutors to broaden your Valyrian, a whole class on just diction - forcing you to learn new words; first-aid training, and even drawing.

Your step-father also took up your training after your beloved father had passed. Daemon recommended you work your anger and grief out through the training yard, and you took that advice to heart. He posed as a challenger in damn-near everything, and by the Gods, you tried not to feel competitive, but it sharpened your wit and instincts. Daemon knew what he was doing, and yet, never showed an ounce of 'loving warmth', only stoic respect.

Your mother taught you what she could about being both Lady and wife - taking meals privately with you to go into more expressive details. Questions you had, she answered; and as you grew older, you wondered deeper - and she often answered with red, flushed cheeks. Yet your mother kept her promise and would not let you go off to King's Landing unprepared.

You read books. Wrote letters, kept journals. Learned from experience, learned from reading; did what you could to understand as much as possible, never quenching your thirst for knowledge.

Perhaps, subconsciously, you wondered if this would create more distance between now and your marriage - but your 18th nameday was creeping up, and you were out of options.

Three months before, your summons arrived.

Your mother tried to deliver the news softly, but tears broke her waterline; and you understood that she meant to say goodbye. Apparently, by Queen Alicent's hand-written letter, you were to marry the Prince before the week's end, and it was already midweek.

Aemond did not wish for a big wedding, but your family insisted on something. Viserys had called upon the royal dressers, and all festivities would be covered. All you had to do was show up, and yet, it felt like that was the hardest chore. Your mother had sniffled as she pet your hair off your shoulders, nodding, "It's time, my girl."

Daemon opted not to attend the wedding and after a bit of persuasion, your mother and brothers decided to stay on Dragonstone with him. You were to travel alone because you were to hit the ground running, and you were beyond nervous.

Your mother helped pack your things - sending servants and maids away to let you two have moments of privacy. She gave you last second advice, promising that when you need it, she was always there for you. Dragonstone wasn't far by dragonback and there were always ravens to send - but she warned you about the Hightowers more than likely intercepting letters.

She advised you to write in code.

Promised she loved you.

Swore to you that marriage wasn't always all so bad; and before you knew it, you were standing with Kasta's packed saddle - facing your family for the final time.

"Well," you breathed, nodding at them all, "I wish to say that I will miss you all, and thank you for the incredible years."

"Good luck, sister," Jace nodded.

The night before, the boys had snuck into your room for the last time and let you hold them; tears of sadness weeping into their dark brown locks. You smiled at him, "Thank you, brother. I will send a raven when I am settled, and... Well, you know."

"When you're married," Luke teased, giggling lightly.

"Hush," you mother chided gently, but smiled at the boy, glancing at you. "Go hug your sister goodbye, love."

Luke frowned deeply and rushed for your waist - though, no longer being a small child, he was still a young lad; and you could wrap your arms around him tightly. You kissed the top of his head and sighed, "I'll miss you with my heart, Luke. I promise to write you, you can practice writing me back if you want."

"But, sister," he worried, pulling back only so to hush, "what if the nightmares come back?"

You smiled at him, "I left you a present on your bed. I hope that helps you through the nights. Let it be a comfort." It was a red and black stuffed dragon toy, something you prayed would comfort him in your absence.

He nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. "Do not go," he begged gently, holding your skirts.

"I'd stay if I could, but this is for the best," you assured, never having the heart to tell him that your marriage arrangement was made some years ago, and now, as you were a woman, it was time to 'pay up' to save him from being blinded. He didn't need to know the truth.

Jace pulled Luke back but instantly stepped up in his place, instead. He sighed into your neck; much taller than the last time you remembered, and letting yourself loose a few tears. "Do not let them change you, sister. Please, be safe," Jace rushed in your ear, tightening his hug.

"I will," you cried, giving him a squeeze. "Be there for Mother... She'll need you now."

"I won't disappoint you," he promised, pulling away.

"Be good," you chuckled at him, patting his shoulder as he moved back. Baela and Rhaena stepped up to hug you goodbye, having grown fond of their older 'sister' during the time you had together. You kissed their foreheads, bid them well, and again, promised you were only a raven away.

Daemon was next, and he did offer a hug (shockingly). You squeezed into his embrace, and when you pulled back, he wished, "Good luck in the city, niece. Remember the leech will feed, even when fat. My brother's blinded by..." He sighed. "Nevermind. It's not your responsibility. Just do not let him forget his family loves him."

"I'll be sure to be there for him, Uncle."

He nodded, "Then - good luck. Marriage is mostly political, so, play your part with caution in mind."

"Your advice has always been appreciated," you nodded. "And thank you - for all the lessons you gave these past years."

"What a student I had," he smirked, giving you a final nod as you moved on to your mother.

She took a long, shuddering breath. "You'll write, won't you?" Her hands reached, as they always did, to pet over the silver locks that spilled down your shoulders.

"Of course," you promised softly. "You will not be rid of me so easily."

"I should hope not," she chuckled, but held her tears at bay.

"Say it now, Mum, and I will stay," you promised in a whisper. "You need me, and I will stay - "

"No," she sighed, moving to hold your cheeks. "You are no longer responsible for me. I would not let you go if I thought it was feeding you to the wolves... Though I wish for you to stay, there is a duty to be performed, my sweet girl."

You nodded, letting a few tears fall down your cheeks. "I'll just miss you terribly. Who will I go to for advice?"

"You'll understand who to trust, but keep in mind that you might write in a journal. Let it act as if it's me, and write, my girl. Hide it away, burn it even, but do not let yourself feel so isolated."

"A Black Dragon in an Emerald Mine," you snickered softly, making her grin. "I will not disappoint you, Mother."

"You never do," she promised. "Be careful, and do not trust anyone. You're in the snake's garden now, and their bite is fierce."

You nodded, hands over hers to hold your cheeks. "I wish you'd be there."

"I do, too," she promised. "But you are my strongest girl, you will endure this with grace."

You nodded, leaning in to hug her one last time. She sniffled into your neck, but after a moment, you had to giggle, "Mum, you've got to let me go. Mumma, c'mon, now."

She groaned and released you, "All right, fine. Go on. I love you - so much. Do not forget that."

You climbed onto Kasta's mighty back; needing something of a rope ladder to get on her properly. With another wave, your family called their love and luck; hearing Kasta roar in departure before surging forward, spreading her wings, and then leaping off the cliffside. You held on tightly as she cut through the air, your family all watching as Kasta roared once more but otherwise, did not turn back.

You cried during the whole flight; truly afraid of what you were to encounter when you landed. Alicent and the Hightowers knew of your arrival, and you wondered why she insisted on such a swift wedding.

Last you knew, your fiancé had both concurred the largest dragon in the world but also lost his left eye.

Perhaps there was a rush so you could not back out. But you had honor, and if your hand in marriage is what it took to heal the rift between your families, to soothe the wound Lucerys inflicted, then so be it. There was honor in completing one's duty.

You prayed, through tears, it was enough.

•

[ part two ]

[ in chronological order: When Pride Married Prejudice // WPMP part two // Petitions // Distraction // The Inky Green Council // Bearer of Bad News ]

love spiral

summary: a turn in conversation has you asking uncomfortable questions that aemond can’t help but answer.

warnings: ‘teach me how to kiss trope’, best friends to lovers, light smut

the leaves of the trees rustled above you as you lay with your head in aemond’s lap, your eyes closed as you listened to him read from some history book. the godswood was empty, peaceful - just how you liked it.

these moments the two of you had were sacred, buried away in the deepest chamber of your heart, a place so overwhelmingly filled with aemond targaryen. he was your childhood best friend, the person you’d grew up with through everything. you’d bickered and fought, played and learned together - you thought at times that he knew you better than you knew yourself.

Keep reading

Unexpected (Part I)

Aemond Targaryen X Betrothed Baratheon reader

Aemond Targaryen is sent to Storm's End to secure a marriage pact to gain the Baratheon's alliance in the war. And yet, when he discovers Y/N Baratheon, the black sheep of her family, hidden away at his arrival, he knows that fate has predestined their meeting. He has to have her.

Warning: long chapters, swearing, eventual mature content (18 +)

Part I

Part II

“Prince Aemond Targaryen”

My name was announced as I entered the dark and macabre hall of Storm’s End. My eye quickly flickered to the round and dark-featured male sitting upon his chaise, watching me as I moved towards him.

The room was silent besides the pattering of rain against the stone walls and the click of my heels against the floors.

“Prince Aemond” Ser Borros Baratheon greeted, his head dipping in respect, though he did not stand from his chair.

I didn’t particularly care for the impertinence, but my boredom at this tedious affair was pushing me to end this quickly and fly home.

“Lord Baratheon, thank you for extending your welcome to me. You have a fine home.” The words were still and passive as I stood before the man. He observed me, eyes weary at the eye patch adorning my face and the various daggers and swords strapped across my body.

They were not for him, I reminded myself, trying to ease my posture to not be honed for violence and battle.

“It is an honour to have you here Prince Aemond” Borros replied, his deep voice echoing in the large space. “The raven your mother previously sent was persuasive indeed, a rather beneficial alliance for my house should we choose to ally with your brother instead of Princess Rhaenyra.”

He chose his words carefully- brother, not King and Princess, not Queen.

“I don’t see any downfalls to joining our cause, Ser” I raised my brow, scrutiny across my tight face. “King Aegon has the allyship of majority houses and their men, and should you too ally with us not only will you be on the winning side of this war but your grandchildren will be both of Targaryen and Baratheon blood.”

The idea slithered across me in disgust, the prospect of marriage and children one that brought a scowl to my face.

Though I did not show it, I would do my duty to my family and marry.

But that did not mean I had to do so with a smile on my face.

Lord Baratheon considered, his large chest rising in a deep exhale as he nodded in agreement.

“Right you are Prince Aemond.” He said, and I nodded my head in thanks, victory filling me at the notch in our belt against my whore sister and her bastard children.

“Bring in my girls” Borros called, his dark eyes shifting to the left doorway, a mixture of pride and uneasiness etched across his face. My lips thinned and I hide my gloom as four ladies strode in, each beautiful, tall and thin with dark hair and eyes and lovely gilded skin.

I wouldn’t pretend that they were unpleasant, but as my eyes ran down the line, ignoring the hopeful and pleasing smiles etched onto each girl's face, I frowned.

“I was told that you had five daughters, Lord Baratheon.” The room shifted at my words, Borros tensing as each girl's smile faltered. “There are only four here.”

“Indeed Prince” He rustled out, rubbing at his beard with annoyance. “My youngest daughter is… not suitable for this arrangement.” The words came out in a hesitant, strained tone.

“Her age?” I asked my brow-raising, curiosity filling me.

How unsuitable could she be that her father would deny her the chance to marry a Prince?

“Ten and eight,” He said frowning “But that is not the issue at hand. There are four of my very beautiful and endearing daughters before you, you may choose between them.”

My eyes narrowed at that command and Borros stiffened as I stepped closer, the light above cascading over my severe expression.

“What is wrong with her exactly?” I demanded, my voice slipping into that calm storm that had most men shaking, and though Borros contained himself, fear flashed in his eyes.

“She is not particularly trained for the challenges of marriage, My Prince” One of his daughters, the girl in the middle stated, her eyes bright and lip quirked as she beheld me. “ We consider her a bit… simple and strange in our family.”

The other girls giggled, hands covering their mouths delicately as she spoke and my eyes tapered, silencing their teasing.

“I will choose my betrothed upon seeing all of your daughters, Lord Baratheon, as is my right” I mandate stoically, eyes falling back to the rage and ire that shines on the Lord’s face. He looks as if he will protest and even the young women beside him look outraged, but no one disagrees.

“Mary” Lord Baratheon calls to the Lady-in-waiting standing by the door, his voice a sharp slice “Call for... “

“No need for the trouble Lord, I will follow Mary to the young ladies' chambers and return with my answer. The walk will allow me some needed time to think, I’m sure.” I tried not to show my distaste at the girls before me, but still, they seemed stiff with indignation.

I didn’t wait for the Lord’s reply before strolling over to Mary, and her face flushed and auburn hair fell to shield her face as she bowed to me in greeting. I nodded, tilting my lips in what I hoped was not an intimidating greeting and she calmed marginally before turning on her heel to lead me through the doors.

To the unwanted daughter that lay beyond.

***

“Gods, I am going to throttle Floris for touching my things. She never puts them back where they belong” I mutter, growling in anger as I grabbed my discarded book off a completely random shelf, a place it had not been before.

The doors of my chambers click open, and with eyes firmly on the novel in my hands, I turn “Mary, tell me, which of my miserable sisters did the Dragon choose as his prey” I tease, chuckling.

“The Dragon is yet to decide which prey suits him.” An amused and deep voice rasped.

I gasped, my book clattering to the floor as my eyes beheld the silver-haired, one-eyed Prince before me. “Shit!” I whispered and then winced at the profanity as I ducked to grip the book back into my shaking hands.

The Prince watched me with a wide and surprised eye, his lips twitched slightly at the corner as he observed my rattled form and obscenity.

“My Prince” I bowed quickly, discarding my book and attempting to recall how the Septa would scream at me to bend my knees lower and straighten my back. “I express regret, I had not been expecting your presence in my chambers-“

His eye glosses over the room at my words, taking in the books littered carelessly across the floor and tables, the clothes scattered in a heap at the corner of the room and I close my eyes in humiliation as his eye finally falls to my white and fitted nightdress.

The one I had adamantly not wanted to change out of.

I fiddled with my fingers, nerves wrecking through my body as I beheld his scrutinising watch, his face tensed with contemplation as he looked at me. His face revealed nothing of what he thought though, that angled and strong face a wall of impassivity.

My gaze flickered over him, having never seen him before. I took in the tight and form-fitting leathers that clung to the toned body beneath obscured by his long coat, the assortment of weapons strapped to him before tracing over the thin line of his pursed lips, the smooth texture across his severe face.

And that eye patch.

He hardened as my gaze fell upon it, as if in expectance, as if in interest at my reaction. Though when I merely cocked my head, curiosity and gentleness filling my eyes at the soft scar and brown leather, he seemed to relax, huffing quietly.

“It would seem that you were neglected from the introductions today, Lady –“ His brow raised in expectance and I stepped forward, arms folding over my body to hide from him.

“Y/n, Lady Y/N” I replied quietly and he nodded softly in acknowledgement.

“I was told that you were not suitable for this arrangement Lady Y/N, despite being of age and your sisters implied that you were not appropriated with the requirements for marriage.” He drawled, observing my reaction as he spoke.

“Let me guess” I muttered, biting back the bitterness in my tone “They described me as simple and odd, a cordial way of calling me a freak and unparalleled to them as a Lady and woman.” I scoffed out a laugh at that tired dialogue, and the Prince's eyes seemed to light in response, his body now leaning against the chest of draws at his side.

“Indeed” He hummed, curiosity and intrigue beaming in that sole eye.

***

The girl before me was not what I had been expecting.

I suspected that the fifth daughter had some kind of abnormality, a deformation that had marred her as unpleasant or made her act out.

And yet, as I stared at the blushing girl before me, it didn’t quite make any sense.

She was lovely, not like her sisters but unique from them.

Her chocolate brown eyes were wide and doe-like, intently watching me as I considered. She had thick and flowing straight mousy hair that was untamed as it fell down her back and shoulders, laying across the nightgown she had clearly not cared to remove.

It told him that either she had not been expecting company, or she did not care to impress said company.

His lips quirked at that, amusement filling him at, indeed, the strangeness of her character.

His gaze trailed lower, grazing over the supple breasts prominent below the white gown and then over her soft and curved hips and the stomach that sat out against the cotton material.

Unlike her sisters, she was much shorter and curvaceous, her body shaped with flesh and softness that went from the roundness of her blushed cheeks, to her breasts and ass, and I imagined filled at her hips, stomach and thighs.

She flushed slightly at my wondering eye, her hands clasping and unclasping before her, her restless feet rocking back and forth, as if desperate for me to either speak or leave.

She didn’t appear frightened of me though, besides the initial shock that had her jumping and swearing at my entrance, she hadn’t so much as stuttered as we talked.

“What do you think Lady?” I asked suddenly, my arms folding over my chest. She quirked a brow at me, surprised that I was asking for her opinion.

I imagined that very few cared to hear her thoughts in this place.

“I-“ She paused, swallowing as she looked down for a moment “I understand their sentiment, I have never been one for embroidery or etiquette classes, not particularly amenable. Especially not for a Prince. My sisters have excelled in that department and they are better suited to marry into the Targaryen family and bring honour to the Baratheon name.”

The words were quieter and tamed in comparison to the girl I first found when entering the room. I bit back my ire at that shining insecurity, that familiar ache of understanding running through me at the displacement she felt.

“Tell me about yourself” I demanded and she balked at that. I chuckled, low and throaty and she bit her lip in weariness. “Tell me more about what you like Lady- if not etiquette and embroidery then what?”

She contemplated for a moment, her hands rubbing against her thighs as she still gnawed on that plump lip. I begrudgingly dragged my attention away from her lips as she spoke.

“Reading,” She said nodding, her eyes lighting as she looked at the endless books scattered across the room. “I enjoy reading. And being outside; in the garden, the neighbouring villages… I used to train with my father as a little girl, wooden swords and then eventually a bow and arrow.”

I quirked my brow at that knowledge “Not many young ladies find interest in weaponry and fighting.” I say, though my words hold no judgement and she smiles slightly in appreciation at that.

“No, they don’t. And, such in my case, even if they do the unspoken laws of society deem it inappropriate” She rolled her eyes with ire and I hummed in response. “ But still when I can, when no one is watching and I have the time, I will practice archery and occasionally mimic what my father does with a dagger or sword.”

Her words held purpose, that shine of passion and delight flashing across her eyes as if in memory.

I don’t know why I did it, what came over me but before she could begin speaking again, I tore my dagger from its sheath and with imperceptible swiftness chucked it toward her.

Most women and some men would have recoiled, and rushed out of the way in instinct.

And yet, she caught it.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle, slightly off-kilter, knuckles white as she panted, her eyes wide in disbelief.

I smirked slightly, nodding to myself as I stood up straighter. My arms linked behind my back as she gaped at me, her large eyes flickering from me to the shining dagger in her right hand.

“What if I hadn’t caught it?” She demanded, a trace of anger lacing her words.

“But you did,” I replied simply, and her eyes narrowed down at that nonchalance lacing my tone.

Gone was that shy girl.

Good.

My face fell back into neutrality as I began to stalk toward her. She stiffened at my approach, her hand still holding that dagger before her as she watched me with weariness. I stopped an inch in front of her, that dagger's edge pressing into the leather at my rib.

She exhaled sharply as her uncertain and anxiety-riddled eyes observed me and she audibly inhaled, her hand shaking as I grazed my thumb against her palm, the dagger falling into my awaiting hand.

Y/N remained silent as I sheathed the dagger back in my belt, her breath a hot and shaky caress over my chin, her eyes looking up at me with perplexion.

“Lady Y/N,” I said calmly, my lips tilting at the corner in a lazy smile “ Please pack a small overnight bag with some clothes and necessities.”

She froze, lip pulling into her teeth as she hissed.

“Why?” She whispered back, hoarsely.

“Because you will be returning to Kings Landing with me.” I said, a low and carnal rumble “as my betrothed.”

***

I gaped, my mouth falling open in utter shock.

As my betrothed.

My heart was hammering in my chest so loud that it was all I could hear, all I could comprehend as I stared dumbly at the Prince before me.

“What?” I spat, noticing his eye spark in humour at the lack of formality and propriety behind my baffled tone.

“Pack whatever you wish, the rest can be brought over in the coming weeks.” He ignored my horror and trembling body as he stood back, his gaze shifting towards my door with veiled boredom. “I should go and inform your father and sisters of my choice.”

My sisters.

Oh, gods. My sisters.

I had just stolen their chance with the Prince, unwittingly yes, but they won’t see it like that.

“You worry about their reaction?” He asks, his jaw clenched, and I can’t form the words, so I merely nod in reply. He scowls, lips curling back from his teeth, “Not even the Gods could deny me what I want my Lady, your father and sisters stand little chance.”

My heart stuttered at the cruel and downright possessive tone and before I can even respond, the Prince is turning on his heel and coolly walked through my room and out the door.

Oh, dear Gods.

My hand was clutching my chest as I panted, desperately trying to gather myself when my eyes lifted to Mary, my lady-in-waiting, standing hesitantly by the door.

“The Prince chose me” I whisper, shock and horror present in my stiff body and wide eyes.

“I know” She nods, her face grave and she rushes towards me with a shaky sigh. “It is ok, Lady. You must breathe… here, sit” She pulls me over to a chair and my body collapses against it with a thud.

“Ok?” I choke, my voice and alarm rising “I am not suited to marry anyone, never mind a Prince of the Targaryen family!” I spread my hands over the cold wood of the table, digging my nails into the roughness to draw myself out of the hysteria.

I gasp, chest heaving up and down, up and down as I begin to hyperventilate. Mary rushes to kneel beside me, her golden eyes bright with worry as she rubs soothingly at my back.

“Y/N” she calls and snaps her fingers before my eyes to bring my attention back to her. “Do your list, tell me… tell me what are the pros and cons of this marriage” She beseeches with a straight and calm face.

Pros and cons.

My mind focuses, pushing out the blur and begins to flick through them, beginning with cons per usual.

“He’s said to be a very terrifying and ruthless man, I’ve heard some terrible tales about Prince Aemond.” I shudder, but she ushers me to continue “His family is in the middle of a civil war, I could get caught up in that nonsense and knowing me I’d probably get killed.” I whimper.

“And the pros?” She urges, nodding to me.

“He didn’t… he seemed normal, a little icy but not cruel or scary like I had thought he would be.” I say, nodding along tentatively as Mary does, a small smile gracing her lips “And… I suppose that Kings Landing would be rather beautiful, full of culture and experience. The opposite of Storms End.” I feel that clenching pressure in my chest begins to ease as more and more positives start to outweigh the negatives.

“One more.” She stresses, smiling encouragingly as my breathing evens out.

“And my sisters are going to cry with fury when they realise that their freakish, unpleasant little sister has snagged the Prince that they were desperately fighting each other for. They didn’t even consider me a contender, had bad-mouthed me, and yet it is I who will become a Princess.” I snorted, a giggle escaping me at the thought and its absurdity and as Mary chuckles along, I can’t help the endless and overwhelming bellowing of laughter that rushed out of me.

I bellow, clutching my chest, tears leaking from my eyes and Mary reciprocates, her slightly more mature skin, creasing.

“What is the meaning of this?” A stern female voice demanded.

The laughter cuts off abruptly at the sight of my mother’s fury in the doorway, her blue eyes glaring harshly at the two of us. Mary stood apologies falling from her lips, but my mother didn’t even glance her way.

“It seems that Prince Aemond has chosen you as his betrothed, Y/N,” She said coming towards me, her eyes softening as she beheld my apprehension. “You must fulfil your duty to our family, this alliance, this marriage will secure our place for centuries to come.”

“But mother, I didn’t intend-“

“It matters not what you did or did not intend, Prince Aemond had chosen you as his Lady wife, quite adamantly, and you will leave with him today.” Her sharp eyes snapped to Mary. “Begin packing her things, only necessary garments, only her best and some fine jewellery too.”

Mary bowed and rushed off, moving swiftly around my room to pack and organise for me to leave.

Leave my family.

Leave my home.

“Come” Mother called, her hand gripping mine and helping me up before pulling me along and sitting me before my vanity. She was wordless as she began brushing through my long hair, careful as she yanked out the knots in them.

She had not done this for me since I was a little girl.

My heart clenched and throat tightened as I beheld her frown, not at the wildness of my hair, but as she looked at me, knowing that I would soon be departing.

No one expected that this would be my last day at home.

I sat silently, my eyes taking in every feature, every touch, every smell of her as she pulled back the silken locks, pinning and half braiding the hair to fall in an extravagant fish-tail plait against my back. Her soft hands tugged at the front pieces loosening them, and the dark coffee strands framed my face.

I begrudgingly allowed her to rub a pink-rose petal extract against my cheeks and lips to bring some colour to them and even while flinching, I allowed her to adorn my eyes with the black kohl. I turned to her, my hands fidgeting relentlessly as she gazed at me.

“Beautiful” She whispered softly and I nearly sobbed at that pained tone, at that word that rarely had ever left my mother’s lips when regarding me.

I focused on my breathing as I was stripped, rubbed, cleaned and then oiled with jasmine and lavender before a few more servants came to help dress me.

Unlike my usual loose and unrestricted garments, my mother chose a dark green and cream embroidered gown, the neck low and laced as it went straight across my shoulders and back, revealing the bare skin there and my collarbones. The pearls adorning the clasps at my breasts revealed slight peeks of the flesh underneath, as scandalous as my mother could allow.

The dress fit tight against my chest and waist, hugging the stomach that was not at all flat. My mother frowned as she ordered the dress tightened, and I gasped in pain, my hands flying to the wall to hold myself up as the servant pulled the laces at the back, more and more.

By the time she was done, breathing felt like inhaling glass, but indeed, my waist and stomach were snatched in and looked much smaller than it truly was. I levelled out my breath as I beheld the way the dress flared out at my wide and fleshy hips, unchanged in shape, before cascading down in soft open waves around my simple flats.

I looked pretty, delicate yet womanly, and more polished than I’d ever been.

But I looked nothing like myself.

And The Prince seemed to notice that immediately.

I followed wordlessly behind my mother as we entered the Great Hall and as my eyes locked onto Prince Aemond’s, he frowned, his eyes falling over my hair, and face and then resting on the waist that was too small.

I blanched at his stare but quickly was saved from any further scrutiny as my Father came to stand before me.

“Father” I whispered tenderly and his eyes melted as he beheld me.

“My little girl, all grown up.” He said quietly enough that only I could hear. I choked, tears now welling in my eyes, and I did not care who was around as I threw my arms around his neck and buried my head in his chest with a sob.

He sighed dejectedly, his large body engulfing mine in a hug that was too much yet not enough. I shook slightly as he rubbed my back and pacified me, and after a few moments, he pulled back, sadness in his now-red eyes.

I wiped at my face, not caring at how the cosmetic had smudged there as I regained my composure and evened my breathing. He nodded gravely at me and as he kissed my palm with a father's love, it took everything in me to not begin sobbing again.

I sniffed, my hands clasped against my stomach in pain as he moved from my path and I beheld my four sisters.

And suddenly, crying felt bizarre to do.

They glared at me, accusation and bewilderment in their brown eyes, even as they beheld how I looked. I could see that writhing jealousy a mile away. I sighed wretchedly and bowed my head slightly with a frown in goodbye.

They seemed to pause, their faces faltering as they glanced at one another. I turned to move away and before I knew it, I felt several arms wrap around me at once.

“Oh, you absolute pest, how can you leave us” Cassandra scolded against my neck, even as a gasp of a cry escaped her.

I laughed in surprise as my sisters hugged me fiercely, and was even more surprised by the small cries and wet tears that I felt against me from them all. “Take care of yourself Y/N, don’t forget ‘Ours is the Fury’,” Floris said, tears shining in her beautiful eyes as she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheeks.

I nodded back firmly, no longer crying, yet dumbfounded and unable to speak. They all stepped back from me, retreating to the side again as I closed my eyes and braced myself before turning to walk over to Prince Aemond.

He was frowning uneasily as he watched me, his arms behind his back and his body straight but his face did not hold any cruelty, any mocking as he beheld my tears.

My breath caught in my throat as his hand lifted, steady and sure and so very gently wiped away a tear that fell down my cheek. I bit my lip, my hands clenching as he watched me and my body grew hot under that neutral look.

“Prince Aemond, perhaps you should consider your journey, the sky seems to be darkening.” My father roughly cut in, a harsh and protective glare thrown at the Prince. He looked at my father, irritation lighting his face but he simply nodded, looking once at me in confirmation and then walking towards the front doors.

I followed behind with shaking hands and trembling feet but I tried to maintain my control as we stepped out into the courtyard.

Where a Dragon the size of a castle stood, baring its teeth and growling in all its glory and horror.

“Vhagar” I gasped in amazement and Prince Aemond’s eyes locked with mine, his lips parting.

“You know of my dragon?” He questions in intrigue.

“Of course,” I say, my eyes returning back to the beast in complete awe “She’s the largest in the world, Visenya rode her during Aegon’s conquest- well their conquest, I suppose. ”

Silence followed and my eyes moved back to the Prince, but he was already watching me, an expression of respect playing on his strong face.

“Well, considering you already know so much about her, riding her shall be little difficulty then.”

“What?” I snapped but then cringed in apology at the horrified look my mother threw my way. He snorted quietly before walking forward towards Vhagar and I trailed, my stomach twisting into knots.

Never mind dying in the war, I’d probably get eaten by the thing before I even left my home.

“Don’t worry my Lady” He said, noting my paleness “ Vhagar will not harm you, not when she sees you with me and you won’t fall, because I won’t let you.” His stare held conviction, utter conviction, and I merely nodded reluctantly in reply.

“I suppose that dying while riding a Dragon is quite a worthy death” I joked, and despite my family's indignation and sighs, Prince Aemond merely huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. He held out his right hand as he stopped beside the ladder descending down Vhagar’s back, patiently waiting for me to take it.

I exhaled harshly as I neared the obscenely large and terrifying creature, the low growls and snarls reverberating across the ground and into my body. I nodded to my sisters and then to my father and mother in a final farewell.

I look away quickly at the bitter sadness that seems to suffocate the air, my eyes already burning. Instead, I place my shaky hands in the strength and solidity of the Prince’s and I’m glad for the reassurance in his sapphire blue eye.

He takes my hand and places it against Vhagar’s rough skin, and I shudder at the scale and indents of hundreds of years’ worth of life as the beast groans but doesn’t falter. I nod once and Prince Aemond hoists me up, my hands coming to grip the ropes and lift my gown so that I won’t trip.

My chest aches in fear but as I glance down, Prince Aemond is already right beside me.

“You won’t fall, I won’t let you.” His eye seems to say in a reminder as he watched me.

I inhale and exhale deeply and without too much thought, I begin my climb up the side of the beast. It takes some time and exertion, my weariness and gown obstructing me and a few times, I would slip a step and cry out, only for a hand to instantly be at my ankle or shin, guiding me back to the step.

I pant as I eventually reach the top of Vhagar, my fingers digging into the seat placed there and I use that hold to drag myself up and onto the very top. I rasp as I take in the view, so much higher, far more surreal atop the writhing beast than it was through the window of a tower.

“Well done, My Lady,” Prince Aemond rasps beside my ear and I blush as I notice how close his body is to mine as he kneels beside me. He didn’t look nearly as winded, in fact, his body seemed to calm and breathing evened from the familiarity of his dragon.

He takes my hand and helps me onto the front of the seat, his hands fixing my skirt so that my legs could hold against the sides without issue. I shiver as his nimble fingers lift the material and he caresses my legs up to my knee, readjusting and strapping a tie around the sides.

 I don’t speak, nor does he, as he ties another around my waist, the rope attaching to the seat.

“In case you lose yourself in the air, the rope will ensure that you don’t fly off of Vhagar,” He says, noticing my stare, but when I blanche, he adds “ But I will already be there to ensure that none of that happens.”

“Thank you,” I say softly as he finishes securing me in place and then with swift and easy movements, the Prince moves behind me and mounts the seat.

I hiss in harshly at the feeling of his chest pressed to my back, though he doesn’t comment, instead his long and toned arms reach around my waist with efficiency, securing a tie all the way around the both of us before hooking it into place.

I tremble against the heat of his body, his chest and thighs like fire as it presses against my thin clothes and I bite my lip as the cool caress of air brushes my right cheek as he speaks lowly to me.

His hands fall to my waist as he says “ My sight is limited as you know, I rely on my right to steer Vhagar” He shifts my body to his left side where the eye patch is and rests my back against his chest there so his head is peaking over my right shoulder without any obstruction.

I nod absently, my body still tense and stiff at the foreign feeling of him and his hands that are grazing across my waist and hips, and perhaps unwittingly, but the sides of my breasts too.

“Should you feel you need the extra support, for fear or whatever else, you can grab onto these handles here, they will keep you firmly rooted in place.” He says seriously as if it were a crash course in Dragon safety.

“What about you?” I ask quietly and his eye glances over my shoulder to my weary face “If something happens… have you ridden with someone else on your dragon before?” I question and he shakes his head slowly, but his hands grip my waist in reassurance.

“Vhagar has never acted out without provocation and I do not expect that we will find any in the skies as we fly back home. I will be fine, as will you.” He reaffirms and I nod gently, my body relaxing against him slightly.

Once we were completely strapped in, I gazed down towards my family, much smaller as they stood at the doors of our home- no, their home now. I felt my chest constrict and tears burn my eyes as I lifted a tremoring hand and waved, their answering waves back a dagger to my heart.

Prince Aemond frowned at my teary sight but did not say anything as his hands snaked around my waist and he clasped onto the ropes there.

“Vhagar! sīmonagon se ivestragī īlva sōvegon” Prince Aemond bellowed out, and I crooned in wonder at that authoritative and accented tone, even more surprise filling me as that wild beast, listened and purred in response, stretching out its endlessly long wings.

“Ready, My Lady?” Prince Aemond whispered with a grin beside my ear and I couldn’t contain the thrill that wrecked through me as I gripped the handles before me.

“I’m ready, My Prince.”

He huffed, a hot breath beside my ear before he commanded “Sōvegon!”

And we were shooting up to the sky.