dernieredanse21 - Tumblr blog

dernieredanse21 · 3 months ago

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Omg I’m giggling and kicking… I am a strong independent woman in 9/10 but that 1/10🥹🥹🥹 will always be a clingy little girl like the reader

Impatient and Desperate

Aemond Targaryen x Clingy Lannister Reader

Synopsis: How you and your husband fare at court when both of you were constantly impatient and desperate for one another.

Warnings: Clingy/Spoiled Reader, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Oral Sex (f receiving), Mature, 18+, Semi-Public Relations, Slight Degradation, Aemond being a simp for his wife, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 6,207

A/N: (1) Based on a request sent by @serenity-ren-bliss, they wanted a reader who "loves being doted on." (2) I may or may not have been faded while I wrote this, so...

Prince Aemond was an overly impatient man. One could never know what would set him off and be the reason for his rage. His impatience knows no bounds. His sudden bouts of rage could come from him no longer being able to tolerate the cruel teases of his older brother, or it could be as simple as a courtier walking too slowly in front of him. Either way, whatever the circumstances may be, you would never want to be in the same room with the prince when his patience wears thin. However, as impatient as he was with everyone around him, that could not be said when you were in his presence. You, his loving wife, were the only person that could never wear out the One-Eyed Prince’s patience, no matter how hard you tried. And believe me, you’ve tried.

As a daughter of House Lannister, you were doted upon and spoiled by your lord father all your life. Whatever you wanted, it was given to you with haste. May it be new gowns, jewelry, or attention— all were handed to you with a smile. And you would take it gratefully, but a new request would already be leaving your lips.

That you were well loved was unquestionable. But whatever love and attention given to you never seemed to be enough. Growing up, you always needed constant affection and reassurance that those you loved loved you as well. You were clingy. Plain and simple. As a girl, you would always accompany your lord father wherever he went. Whether it was during meetings with lords, hunting in the woods, or even important business dealings in the capitol, you were always by his side. And your father had naught but a choice to take you for he could not bear his only daughter to be sad and doubtful of his affection.

You were seven when your father first brought you to Kingslanding. He was there on business and was to meet with his brother, Ser Tyland Lannister. You were not set to join your father. He had already been bribing you with new dresses, toys, and even a pet cat so you would be more open to the idea. However, with just a few pearl tears and a sniffle when your father tried to explain that you were not to come with him, the lord quickly conceded as he could not bear you in such a state.

Your first day in the Red Keep was also the first time you met Prince Aemond. He was a few years older than you, and when you first laid your eyes on him, what was most notable besides his silver hair and lack of another eye was the deep scowl on his face. You had no intention of approaching him, but your newly given pet cat that was by your side suddenly ran towards the scowling prince.

To say he was mean during your first encounter would be an understatement. He was the cruelest person you have ever met. This doesn’t really say much since you’ve never really encountered cruelty as all your life you were doted upon, but still, he was harsh and callous. He made you cry that day. You forget what exactly brought you to tears, but all you remember is picking your pet up in your arms and running back to your father to tell him about the mean prince you met in the gardens.

That was the first time Aemond had made anyone cry and the first time he genuinely felt sympathetic. Throughout your stay, you had avoided the prince, but Aemond had sought you out to undo your first encounter. And through that was how your relationship with Prince Aemond began and bloomed. You two would exchange letters when you were in Casterly Rock, and he would eagerly wait for business to bring your father back to the capitol, knowing that you would, of course, be accompanying him.

Throughout the years, what both of you believed to be just a friendship bloomed into more. It was during your fourteenth name day when you realized that perhaps there was more than friendship between you two, as he had snuck out of the Red Keep, disregarding his duty, and rode on dragon-back to Lannisport just to reach the feast to celebrate your birth. Needless to say, you were besotted with him and his gesture, not to mention the sapphire pendant he gifted, which made you completely enthralled and saw him in a new, love-struck gaze.

Aemond had never thought he could find patience as great as the patience he bestowed upon you. In truth, if he met another person alike yourself— spoiled, clingy, and in want of constant affection and attention, he would have struck that person down. But with you… he could not even bear to complain in his head because no one would be in that want of his attention and affection. It was only you, and you were the only one for him.

He patiently waited and courted you for three years before he finally gained your father’s approval. He was reluctant to give your hand away to anyone less deserving. You, his daughter, had many extingencies, and he feared that the men that vied for your hand could never measure up in the way you brought up, doted upon, and spoiled out of your wits. He could not stomach the thought that your husband would not be able to do the same.

But Prince Aemond proved himself tenfold. He would often send you gifts that were certainly not cheap and would have cost the crown a pretty penny, and the prince would venture to Casterly Rock at a moment’s notice just because you called for him. You often did that, always wanting Prince Aemond to be in your presence, and he never grew tired of journeying endlessly just to see you and make you happy. Your father was, of course, impressed, and in time, as he realized this treatment of the prince was not just for show or to gain further your favor, he approved of the marriage.

Your two were married in the Red Keep with haste— just as soon as the grand wedding you had always dreamed of was delivered. It was two moons of preparations, and as always, Aemond was growing impatient. “Must it truly be that grand?” He asked as he sat with you in the gardens, your hand in between both of his and your pet cat seated on your lap. “Yes. Father had already paid for all of the decorations and the feast! It’ll be a shame to waste it,” You say, your other hand twiddling with the flower your betrothed picked for you just moments before.

“But—“ Aemond paused and pursed his lips as the incessant noise of children playing and running along the gardens were proving to be a great nuisance to him. You watched as your betrothed’s soft gaze that was only reserved for you turned harsh as he turned to the group of children and did not hesitate to chastise them. You watched in concern as they rushed out of the gardens, running away from the prince, and you would wager that a tear or two were shed from the innocent, wide eyes of the children.

“Aemond,” You called, feeling a tad guilty as the childish, glee-filled giggles ceased. “They were a nuisance; I can barely hear you, my heart.” He muttered and took a strand of your hair in between his fingers to twirl and distract him. “But they are children— their noise is understandable… what are you to do if it were our children?” You question and glance behind you as you hear footsteps. Some courtiers were venturing towards the gardens to have a breath of fresh air, but as they saw the prince and his steely gaze, they quickly turned around and let the two of you be.

“Believe me, my heart, our children would not be as insufferable as them.” Aemond scoffed, and you shook your head. “My love, you’re scaring them.” You sighed, but a smirk came to the prince’s lips. “Good.” He muttered and leaned forward to plant a kiss on your lips, taking advantage of the absence of passersby to have a taste of your lips.

“Not here, my love… someone could see us,” You say consciously, a pretty blush coming to your cheeks and your eyes wide in scandal, but that only served your betrothed to be further amused. He let out a breath, his hand reaching for your cheek to feel the softness and warmness of your skin. “Gods, what have I done to deserve such a beautiful betrothed,” Aemond complimented, biting back a smirk as he knew all too well how to make you yield. Just an ounce more of his attention and perhaps a compliment or two, and you’ll be putty in his hands. Having you unable to deny any requests that came from Aemond.

He watched you further reddened at his words, and Aemond took advantage of the moment and sealed your lips with a kiss, one that you did not deny him off as your heart and mind were muddled by the words he uttered.

In truth, it should concern him how easy you were to yield to words and mere attention. It took him years to come to terms with the fact that there might be some bastard out there who was more determined than he was and would steal you away from him, and you would leave Aemond heartbroken. Jealousy is a lesser and pitiful emotion, but he could not help but feel as such as men were determined to shower you with affection and attention the minute Aemond was not by your side. He knew that your father believed that the reason he would often venture to Catserly Rock was because you called for him. That was true, but another agenda was to scare off the other men that always seem to flock and line up before you.

Luckily, he slowly started to realize that even if you were quick to yield to words and attention, you only did it for him. The moment he confessed his love and devotion to you, you no longer entertained your wall of suitors. No spare glance was given, any gift bestowed was returned, and all your attention was placed on Aemond, just as he had preferred it.

When the day of your wedding came, Aemond was restless in excitement. Finally, after waiting for years to have you, when the sun set that day, you would be forever bound to him by the eyes and laws of gods and men.

Your excitement, on the other hand, was being dampened by your father, who had been questioning you throughout the whole day. “Are you truly certain, my darling? I… Disregard the feast and the preparations made. If you have any reservations, you must tell me immediately. I can handle any contempt if—“ You sighed heavily, a smile gracing your face as you stepped closer to your father, who was responsible for how you were. He was the one to spoil and indulge you ever since you were born, and you understood that he only wished to make certain that you will not be married off to a man who would have no plans to continue that lavishness and customs you were raised in.

“Father, I am certain. I love him. And I had hoped that throughout the years, he has proven himself worthy.” You say softly, taking hold of your father’s hand. Lord Lannister sighed. Of course, the prince had proven himself worthy. It was only just that the lord had now come to realize that you will no longer be under his care. He had trouble grasping the concept that you would no longer reside in Casterly Rock but instead live in Kingslanding and bear the name Targaryen.

“Father, as you know, my dear husband-to-be is quite impatient and sometimes irrational… but Aemond waited for me. He courted me for three years just because you would not let us marry any sooner. I do not hold that against you, father. In truth, I greatly appreciate it because it made me see that he truly does love me. And for that, I am certain that he is the one I wish to marry.” You said softly, trying hard to convince your father of this union. They often say that the day of a wedding could cause doubts and cold feet; you just expected it to come from you or Aemond, not your father.

“Very well. But you must tell me or your uncle immediately the moment the prince treats you any less than what you deserve.” He said, and you nodded with a beaming smile, linking your arms as the ceremonies were to take place and your father was to walk you down the aisle.

“You look enchanting, my heart.” Aemond lowly whispered as you sat next to him at the feast to celebrate your union. “Thank you, husband,” You say with a wide smile, watching as Aemond’s lilac eye grow darker as you called him by his new title. “Say that again,” He said darkly, the pressing need he had for you only growing, and he feared he could truly no longer restrain himself.

He had desired to have all of you for years. To taste and feel every inch of you, but he had hindered himself. Though both of you knew that in the end, you two would be husband and wife, and the wedding was only a formality, Aemond still placed control upon himself from claiming every part of you. Though you, his little wife, was a flirt. Who often indulges him with teases and suggestive notions, you were still a lady who had guarded her virtue until her marriage. There was nothing shared but chaste and secret kisses between you two, and neither of you could wait any longer to discover the pleasures that marriage life had to offer.

“Say what again, husband?” You teased and smirked, but it was quickly wiped off as your husband quickly stood and whisked you out of the hall for the bedding ceremony to begin. A ceremony that rang through the halls as your cries of pleasure could be heard from the highest tower of the keep and into the lowlies of dungeons. Safe to say that no one debated your union afterwords for a dragon had found a lion to be its life long companion.

“Where are you going?” You mewled as you felt your husband release his hold on you and leave your warm, marital bed. The two of you had been married for more than two years now, but you still acted as if your ceremonies were made just yesterday. You were always eager to be by your husband’s side.

“I have a meeting with the small council, my heart. Go back to sleep… I shall return again when you wake so we can break our fast together.” Aemond murmured, sitting by the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through your hair as an effort to lull you back to sleep because he could not grow distracted by your insistence of him staying because he knew all too well that he would yield at your request.

“But that is not until first light… the sun has not even replaced the moon. Come now, my love, do not leave your wife.” You yawned as you tugged at your husband’s arm, missing the feeling of his frame against yours.

“I still have to train,” Aemond reasoned, trying not to cave in even though your voice and insistence pulled him in. “You could train later… and I could watch and cheer you on. Please, my love, come back to bed.” You say, further peeling your eyes open to plead with your husband. You knew he would give in. He still hadn’t placed his eye-patch, and that often signified that he was not yet ready to start his day. There was still room for you to convince him not to leave the warmth and comfort of your marital bed and your arms.

“Aemond, come now, my love. You would not want to upset your beloved wife so early in the morning, do you?” You asked, a sly threat on your lips. Though you were quite clingy and dependent on your husband, there were times that you prospered when he was not in your presence. It had only happened thrice where you and Aemond grew cross with one another, and Aemond, a man who never apologizes, who never surrenders, would always be the first to yield and amend things even if your disagreement was not his fault. An excellent fleet of his patience.

He could not bear it when you were cross with him. He could not stomach to see you be out of his reach. He always wondered how you could be so indifferent and avoidant during arguments when usually you were stuck permanently by his side. It was as if you were not yourself. And Aemond could not bear it to see you place your attention on other people whilst ignoring him. Somehow, you had turned his aloof and stoic demeanor to one that mirrored your needy and dependent self.

Aemond sighed and cupped your cheek. “Very well, but soon as the first cock crows, I must leave.” He said and waited for your agreement, but you were reluctant to give it. “Why can't you just skip today’s meeting? You are overworking yourself— you have barely any time for yourself— let alone me.” You pouted, and Aemond let out an amused breath and placed a chaste kiss on your pouted lips. “I am their king, my light. I must be there to oversee the happenings in the kingdom.” Aemond said in amusement.

Aye, Aemond was now king, and his way to the throne was paved by bloodshed and war. Just a few moons after your marriage, King Viserys was taken by his multitude of maladies, and a war for the Iron Throne broke out. Those were the darkest of days, and neither you nor Aemond wished to recall them anymore because that was the most trying time of your marriage.

You nearly went crazed when you woke up one day to a cold, empty bed and a pathetic letter from your husband saying that he had to fight in the Riverlands. Aemond knew it was cowardly to leave and sneak out in the dead of night instead of explaining to you the magnitude and urgency of the situation. But he could not do it because he knew you would put up a fight and insist that he bring you along. Aemond could not make any such risks.

You had only gone one day without your husband by your side before you too sneaked out of the castle with your guards who you had generously bribed and rode to Harrenhal. To say that Aemond was furious was an understatement. He, however, could not help but feel touched and endeared as you had once again proven to him how desperate you were to be by his side. And ever since then, the longest time apart between you and your husband ever since marriage was just a mere three days. You were still bitter about that fact, and Aemond could only happily try and stir your mind away from that unfortunate occurrence.

“Do you love me?” You suddenly questioned as Aemond was still only sitting on the edge of your bed instead of lying down next to you with his arms wrapped tightly around your frame. “My heart, what a question. I love you more than anything in this world. You were the reason I came to understand what love meant.” Aemond answered, leaning closer to you as he tried to smooth away the furrow between your brows.

“Very well then. If you love me, why are you so insistent on leaving our bed and my presence?” You asked, and Aemond paused for a moment before a smile broke on his lips at your expecting, frowning face. “Oh, my heart.” Was all Aemond could say before conceding and laying his head next to yours. You were quick to invade his space, practically sprawling yourself atop his frame and making him wrap his arms around you. “You’re quite needy, you know that, yes?” Aemond questioned as he once again ran his fingers through your hair. You were practically purring as he continued to do such actions. “I know. But I as well know that that is what made you love me.” You smiled slyly and burrowed your head on his chest to smell him further because his scent always managed to bring you calm.

Aemond sighed in marital bliss and placed a lingering kiss atop your head as you began to slowly drift into slumber in his arms. He turned to the balcony of your chambers as dawn was approaching, and he would have to leave you to oversee his duties. He savored each moment that he had you in his arms because he knew it would be long, torterous hours before he’d be in your presence again.

When the first cock crowed, Aemond let out a grevious sigh as he tried to stir you to your side of the bed but you, of course, resisted. “No.” You muttered in your deep sleep. “Please, my heart. Must we do this each and every morning?” Aemond questioned, exercising his patience with you. “That is precisely the point. We do this every morning, and you leave me every morning. Why can it not be my turn? Why can’t you just stay?” You asked and waited for your husband’s answer, but he only peppered kisses on your face, an effort to distract you. It did.

“Go back to sleep, and I promise that when you wake up, we shall break our fast together,” Aemond whispered and quickly kissed your lips to muddle your mind, and all you could do was nod. Aemond placed a kiss on your lips again, a kiss that further made you lightheaded by with how his tongue would tease yours and how your husband’s hand would linger ever so lightly on your bosom.

You barely had time to process it before Aemond pulled away and quickly dressed while you were still intoxicated by your kiss so he could slip out of your chambers without any more qualms leaving your plush lips. When you hear the door shut lightly, your trance dissolves, and you huff in frustration before curling up in your bed once more and waiting for your husband to return.

Aemond hurried through the halls of the castle to reach you in the garden before your patience wears thin. He had dismissed the small council for the morning and decided that they shall meet once again that afternoon when you were usually distracted by court. “You’re late. The food and tea had grown cold.” You said as you feel your husband's presence.

Aemond sighed heavily and moved to kiss you, but you moved away in annoyance. “You should have eaten earlier, my heart,” Aemond said and sat across from you. He hurriedly placed items of various colorful dishes on your plate, but you could only glower at your husband. He had made you wait a whole half hour before joining you in the gardens!

“I have no appetite.” You gritted, and Aemond pursed his lips as he made your tea to your liking, the liquid now tepid and would not be appealing to consume. “Apoligies, my heart. It is just the small council—“ You rolled your eyes as whatever reason he offered from one ear and out the other. Aemond narrowed his eye as he watched you roll your eyes at him. He must admit, now he was growing annoyed as well.

“You’re acting quite spoiled. I have already apologized; it was beyond my control.” Aemond muttered under his breath as a rare occurrence of his patience of you wore thin. However, Aemond quickly regretted his words as he saw your eye twitch in annoyance, and you quickly stood. “Let us go, Ser Adam.” You say coldly, now greatly frustrated at your husband because not only did he neglect you that morning, he had also offended you.

Aemond called for you as he watched your departing form with your knight. He sighed heavily and shook his head as he saw you walk closer to your knight as the both of you disappeared from the gardens, a pang of jealousy coursing through him.

The moment Aemond was made king, he assigned to you the most capable and skilled knight in the kingdom. He, unfortunately, was also the most comely knight at their disposal, making unfavorable emotions arise in Aemond. It was bad enough that the knight was constantly by your side, assisting you throughout the day, and his job being quite literally placing all his attention towards you— and for him to be comely and agreeable? That was simply adding insult to injury. It was safe to say that your closeness with your knight was the biggest threat Aemond could think of. Even greater than the actual threats that come with him having the conqueror’s crown upon his brow.

Because of the unfortunate occurrences during the morning, Aemond was distracted by the thought of you the entire day. Aemond had only begun the second session of the small council before he abruptly ended it after just two measly matters. He was wrapped in jealousy, uncertainty, and guilt, as he could not even bear for you to be out of sorts for just a few moments.

He walked through the halls of the keep once more, knowing at this hour you would be with the majority of the court to watch the jesters perform. He saw you in the great hall gathered with your ladies, made and gleefully laughing at the performance. Aemond stood by the door for a moment, admiring the way your eyes would crinkle and how a smile beamed on your lips. However, as he saw you leaning closer to your knight who stood by your side and motioned for him to lower so you could whisper something in his ear, Aemond was quick to grow enraged, especially as a smirk found its way to your knight’s lips.

Aemond quickly made his way to his proper place, which was by your side. The courtiers were surprised to see the presence of their dutiful king but still gave him respect. You sighed as the entertainment you watched ceased, and the court jesters bowed to their king. You did not even give your husband a sparing glance as you were still quite hurt at what he had called you earlier.

Aemond took his seat next to you as the performance began once more. He could feel you ever so slyly move away, and that frustrated him further. “Let go of me.” You said quietly as your husband had enough of your antics and simply just moved you to make him sit on his lap. He was quite swift that you had no time to react or possibly forsee his actions. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Us in each other’s company. I am simply giving you what you wish for— like always.” Aemond said, without a care with how the court were no longer watching the performance but rather eyed their king and queen. “We are before other people.” You gritted as you once again stirred on his lap, mortified as you were never one for public displays of affection, which Aemond found curious because when behind closed doors, not a whole army could pry you off him.

“I do not care.” He whispered in your ear, and you placed a tight smile on your lips as you realized that the court was starting to take notice of your reluctance to be in your husband’s presence. Heaven forbid they start to whisper about your marriage. You huffed and had naught a choice but to rest on your husband’s lap until the performance ended.

“You smell quite lovely, little wife… is that the perfume I gifted you on your seventeenth name day?” Aemond murmured against your skin, his nose nuzzled in your neck as you tried your best efforts to ignore him. Aemond smirked and placed light kisses on your neck as he knew that just the right touch or the correct compliment would have you melting in his hands.

You stayed silent, trying to remember the offense your husband had just committed moments earlier. However, it was growing harder to remind yourself as his kisses on your skin burned you with desire and his hold on your waist was inching higher towards your bossom, your peaks already hardening with just the thought of his cold, calloused hands growing near.

“You are aware that it is treason to ignore your king, my heart,” Aemond whispered and nipped the lobe of your neck, the court’s gaze no longer upon you two as just one glare from their king had made them quickly focus all their attention on the jesters and leave you two be.

“How can I be ignoring the king when I am quite literally on his lap?” You gritted and once again struggled to get out of his hold. You, however, froze a deep, silent groan left Aemond’s lips, a sound that was for your ears only. “Why had you ceased? You were burrowing into me so perfectly, my heart.” Your cheeks bloomed with color as you felt his desire poking against your bum.

“Have you no restraint, husband?” You asked, half in mortification and half with desire. “None when it comes to you, my heart. I would think you would have known that by now.” Aemond smriked as he saw how gooseflesh rose to your skin as his breath fanned your neck. “Aemond,” You gritted, taking a firm hold on his hand that was wrapped around your waist.

Your breathing starts to heave, and your heart starts stuttering. “Just say the word, dear wife. And I shall whisk you off to our chambers. Or perhaps… make them all disappear so I could hear your cries of pleasure echo around these great halls.”

“Say what you wish for, my heart and I shall always give it to you,” Aemond swore, and at his words, your eyes practically rolled back as just his voice was able to place damp between your thighs. “Make them go away,” You whispered, and Aemond smirked as he quickly barked the orders for everyone to leave you two and no one should enter the halls until he says otherwise.

When the doors shut, you wasted no time in turning around to straddle your husband and smash both of your lips together. You ground your hips against his in a futile attempt to find friction, but whatever you feel through both of your clothed bodies is not enough. “This does not mean you are forgiven,” You moaned as Aemond sucked on teh sensitive part of your neck as his fingers moved to undo the ribbons of your bodice.

“Whatever you say, my heart,” Aemond panted and quickly sought your lips as he could not have enough of the taste of you. “Oh gods— take it off already!” You said in frustration as Aemond fiddled with your gown, not fully taking it off, but you were already so desperate to feel his touch upon your skin. “So impatient you are, my heart,” Aemond hummed in tea, knowing full well that his own impatience had rubbed off on you, just as how your clingyness had rubbed off on him.

You did not respond but only smashed your lips together once more and successfully removed his leather dublet. Your hands caressed his smooth, chiseled chest, your touch teasingly going lower, making your husband growl against your lips and him playfully nipping your lower lip.

You were finally rid of your dress as Aemond made you stand just for you to take his place on his seat. You sat comfortably as Aemond stood before you, taking off his trousers. Your finger went to your lips as you bit your nails when a wicked thought of spreading your legs crossed your mind, and you quickly decided to do it. Aemond breathed heavily as you displayed for him your pretty cunny. Glistening and calling for his sole, undivided attention.

“What do you want, my wife? Word it out already so I may give it to you,” Aemond said, on the verge of begging for you to let him taste your cunt. “I want you to kneel.” You whispered. “Kneel before your queen and feast on her cunt like a man starve and until there are tears streaming down her face.” You stated, settling further in your seat as a new wave of desire overtook you when you saw the way your husband’s lilac eye darkened.

Aemond was quick to oblige your order and kneeled before you and burrowed his face into your cunt. He was lapping at your folds, the vulgar noises echoing into teh room and your moans only accompanied them as he sucked so heavenly at the pearl of your cunt.

“Gods— you do that so well, Aemond.” You moaned, gripping at his hair to feel more of him. Your eyes rolled back and a wonton sound left your lips as his tongue darted in and out of your whole and teh bridge of his nose burrowed at your nubbin.

Aemond smirked at the sound of your moans and the feel of your thighs wrapped around him. You were quick to come undone, and your husband could only greedily lick your essence, wasting not a drop of you. “Still as sweet as ever, my heart.” He murmered as his lips retruend to your skin and trailed upwards your body to take one of your heaving tits into the hot cavern of his mouth, toungue teasing the taut bud until teeth placed a quick nibble on the sensitive skin.

Aemond took your still dazed body into his arms as he once again switched places and made you return to straddle him. Even through your haze, you had no trouble in sinking down his cock that slipped easily between your folds.

Aemond let out a deep, sensual humm of approval as he felt your walls clench around him and the tip of his cock made contact with the spot in your cunt that made you see stars as well as make you a dazed, moaning, cock drunk mess.

“Gods look at you— I might have married a whore by how well you bounce on my cock.” Aemond gritted as he placed his hand in between you two so his fingers could pay attention to your cunt’s pearl.

You could only moan a response, focusing on chasing your next high even if you had not truly recovered from the previous one. “Ae… Aemond—“ You called, panting, and your husband already knew what you meant to say. He quickly dipped his head to place a lasting nip on your tit before switching your positions for a third time as you could never really stay on top for long. It was too tiring and, quite frankly, distracting as you tried to search for your release.

Luckily, your husband had no problem in doing most of the laborous work whilst you just layed before him and watched through lust fille eyes as he pounded into you so hard that it made your tits bounce so delictably for him.

Aemond thrusted and thrusted upon your cunny, watching as how you gripped him so well. He caught the way as your hands found home on your breasts as you palmed the mounds to find further pleasure and to stable yourself as the orgasm you were chasing was quickly arriving, ready to wash over you and turn you into a blushing, mess of a whore for your husband; just as he often likes to remind you.

“Aw, does my little wife wish to come? Is that you want, my heart?” Aemond taunted as he himself was close to his release, and you desperately nodded before him, unable to form words as you were completely overwhelmed. “Words, sweetheart, words. Just say it, and it shall be yours.”

You moaned and tried your best to take hold of your mind and control your tongue. “Yes! I— I want you to make me come— husband— please,” You all but yelled and with just a deep, stroke of his cock, you came undone with a loud moan that all the eavsdropper outside the hall heard.

They could only blush and turn to the ground as it had been a reoccurring occurrence that their king and queen would be spontaneously get caught in the midst of passion anywhere, everywhere, and anytime, everytime in the walls of the Red Keep. But who could blame either of you, for everyone in the kingdom could see plainly that their queen and king were both quite impatient and desperate for one another.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen

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dernieredanse21 · 4 months ago

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Young Aelys Velaryon

“At thirteen, the beauty of Princess Aelys Velaryon was already the subject of whispered awe.

While Rhaenyra’s three brown-haired sons circled under a swarm of rumours, constant, inescapable and unpredictable, like bees ever threatening to stir storm and scandal throughout court and kingdom, Princess Aelys was different.

Her birth, too, had once been tangled in whispers, a quiet scandal born of that unspeakable night Rhaenyra spent in the company of the Rogue Prince. Yet as the young princess grew, her violet eyes and silver hair shone brighter with each passing day, until she became the very epitome of the ancient and ethereal beauty of Old Valyria.

Some said Princess Aelys was as fair as Queen Rhaenys the Conqueror herself. Others dared claim she was fairer still. And when she came into the first bloom of her maidenhood, the proud daughters of the realm would lower their gaze, however slightly, upon beholding her. As for the sons of lords, there were those whose cheeks would flush at the mere sight of her.”

- A Kingdom of Ash and Fury

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #hotd #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #jace velaryon #daemon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader

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dernieredanse21 · 4 months ago

Text

A Kingdom of Ash and Fury

Summary:

Aelys Targaryen was a ruler, but power is a lonely thing. One love was a promise never kept, the other a storm never meant to break-yet neither will stand between her and the throne that was stolen.

"You were never going to be their pawn, Aelys. I made sure of it."

"You are cruel. Aelys." A statement, not insult, not judgement. "No, I am necessary."

A House of the Dragon | Aemond Targaryen fanfiction

Chapter 2 The Swordsman and the Sword

Word count: 4.3 k

It was morning in the Red Keep, and sunlight streamed through the high windows, gilding the stone floors in gold. The air smelled faintly of parchment and beeswax candles, though none were lit—there was no need, not with the day so bright.

The lesson chamber was quiet but for the rustle of pages and the occasional scratch of Maester Orwyle’s quill. A peaceful morning, the kind that seemed untouched by war or whispers of it. A picture of order and order calm.

“Now, tell me, when King Aenys died, the realm had two claimants: grandson of Aegon the Conqueror, Prince Jaehaerys, and Maegor the Cruel, his warrior half-brother. Tell me,” maester Orwyle paused, “Prince Aegon?”

“What?” The eldest prince yawned and turned his head back to the maester from the silver lock of his niece, Princess Aelys, whose gaze rested on the cover of the history volume, her mind seeming to have quietly travelled to a mysterious realm beyond the knowledge of men.

“Why was Jaehaerys The Conciliator the rightful heir to the Iron Throne? ” Questioned the maester.

“Because he was King Aenys’ trueborn son…”Answered Aegon impatiently before turning his head back to reach the silver beads braided on the princess, “And Maegor was an usurper.’

The maester sighed. It was the first question on a moon that Prince Aegon had been able to come up with a correct answer. Though his reluctance to answer obvious, at least, he had something positive to report to the queen.

“What could have been done to prevent Maegor’s reign?” The princess, who had been uncharacteristically silent, asked, “I wonder what Aegon The Conqueror would have done if he had knowledge of the events after his death. ”

Maester Orwyle’s eyes flickered wider.

“What would you have done?” Aemond injected.

Aelys cast her gaze on him and thought momentarily before tilting her head, as if expecting more.

“What would you have done, Aelys,” the younger prince breathed and repeated his question, his tone more carefully crafted in his usual elegant and perfect etiquette, “What would you have done, if you had been Aegon The Conqueror?”

Aelys chuckled, “King Aegon only had two sons—one weak and indecisive, the other violent and impulsive. You ask him for a successor, but it is as if the world had the choice stripped from him, even if he had conquered Westeros with fire and blood. Even conquerors cannot control what happens after they die…”

“How many hours did your poor lady-in-waiting spend on this?”

“OW!!”

The gracefully composed Princess Aelys Velayon – heir of the heir – poised and willful, was gone.

In her place was a spoiled, furious thirteen-year old girl who smacked Aegon on the head,

Aegon yelped, rubbing the spot as he grinned, pleased with himself.

Aegon grinned, “I was simply testing Aelys’ handmaid’s skills in braiding. Appearance is important for a future queen, isn’t it?”

Aelys growled, reaching her book this time.

“Your Grace-” Orwyle spluttered in disbelief, his old hands clenching the parchment of his teachings.

Aelys tilted her head, her lips curving into a smile far to be sincere. “Disrespect,” she muttered, her voice smooth as honey, “deserves an iron fist.”

Just as Aegon was ready to retaliate by launching an attack on the sapphire pin on her hair, Aemond looked at him coldly, “Are you quite done?”

Aegon froze and rolled his eyes, “You are always no fun. No wonder our mad sister is the only being who acknowledges you.”

Aelys threw a glare, “Right. Helaena speaks to Aemond, while you mostly speak to wine. And he is the unfortunate one?”

Aemond did not laugh, nor did he join in the banter. But for a moment—just a moment—a small, barely noticeable smile ghosted his lips.

She had not dismissed him this time. Aelys and Aegon carried on as they always did, their words sharp, playful, a game only they understood. But Aemond was not part of that game. He never was.

Not like Aegon.

Aegon, who never had to earn her attention.

Aegon, who took her barbs and threw them back like they were a shared secret.

The chamber had been filled with laughter moments ago. Aelys, still poised to launch her book at Aegon, froze mid-motion. The banter died in an instant, the shift so abrupt it was suffocating.

Aemond had spoken quietly, but the words settled over them like a blade pressing against flesh.

"I would kill him."

The silence was deafening.

Aegon turned his head slowly, his smirk faltering. Aelys lowered her book, her violet eyes narrowing—not in shock, but in calculation.

“I would kill him.”

Aemond repeated, his voice almost melodic, almost elegant.

The air was still warm with sunlight, but the peace in the chamber shattered as if a cold wind had cut through it.

"If I were the Conqueror, having seen the seed of sins he would have committed against the realm, I would have killed him with my own hands."

Maester Orwyle stiffened. His aged fingers gripped the parchment before him, knuckles turning white.

"My Prince," the maester rasped, "you are speaking of kinslaying—the greatest of all sins."

Aelys, still carrying the remnants of annoyance from earlier, perked in surprise. Her eyes found Aemond's, curiosity cutting through her early irritation. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she should be wary or impressed.

Aegon let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he leaned back lazily against the chair.

"And they call me reckless," he muttered. "You’d kill your own blood before they even committed a crime?"

Aemond did not look at Aegon. His gaze remained steady and unreadable, locked on the maester.

“A sin prevented is a sin erased.”

Orwyle’s face paled further.

Aelys, however, had not yet spoken. She was watching Aemond closely, head tilted just slightly, considering.

She leaned forward and spoke again, carrying a smile as if the subject was some court gossip, "And where does it end, then? If one executes a man for what he might do, would the world not be left leaderless?"

Aemond turned to her at last, "Would you have left Maegor alive, then?"

The question was a trap, and they both knew it. She did not answer immediately.

Aegon, of course, would not take this as seriously as Aelys.

He snorted, shaking his head, "Gods, you’re both insufferable."

He turned to Aelys.

"If my brother ever tries to steal your throne, do me a favor and kill him first, would you?"

Aelys ignored him. Aemond did not even blink.

The air was still thick with the weight of Aemond’s words. Even Aegon, who often laughed off the seriousness, had not yet made another joke.

FInally, Aelys winked, “ Maester, The ruler shall be the protector of the realm, but the Hand should be his sword. Perhaps, when I am queen, I will make Aemond my Hand."

For the second time that afternoon, silence followed. But this time, it was a different kind of silence.

Aegon blinked, then let out a sharp laugh, grinning as he slung an arm lazily over his chair.

"Would he have to braid your hair as well?"

Aelys tilted her head and smirked, "If he does it as well as he strategizes, I might allow it."

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. But beneath it, a flicker of something that was not quite irritation or amusement.

"That does make sense. He already stares at you like a dutiful knight waiting for orders,” Aegon teased.

Aemond did not react, but Aelys turned toward Aegon with a raised brow.

"Aegon, if you paid half as much attention in your lessons as you do to my hair, perhaps I would consider you for Hand instead."

Aegon feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart, “What a cruel thing to say to your future King Consort.”

A shade of pink crept on Aelys cheeks before she protested the betrothal was mere rumours and that she would rather die dragonless than marry an idiot like him.

Orwyle, still pale from Aemond’s earlier statement, seemed almost relieved by the change in conversation.

Almost.

He watched as Aelys subtly redirected the conversation, drawing attention away from the weight of kinslaying and back toward courtly wit.

But he had not missed Aemond’s expression, nor the slight shift in his posture. He had not missed the way Aemond had studied Aelys’ words—not as a jest, but as something else. Something dangerous.

"We will end the lesson here for today," Orwyle finally said, closing the book before him.

Aegon cheered, stretching his arms dramatically. Aelys leaned back in her chair, satisfied. Aemond said nothing at all.

The lesson ended, and they left the solar behind.

Aegon was already complaining about something, and Aemond was as silent as ever, but Aelys barely listened. The sun was high now, its heat warming the flagstones as they walked.

The path to the dragonpit was one she knew well by now, part ritual, part performance. She had walked it many times. Jace and Aegon were the only ones taking instructions from the dragon keepers. Arrax was too small to be ridden. And she and Aemond, well, their eggs weren’t hatched.

It never troubled her, watching the boys with their dragons. Jace all determined focus, Luke still too small to ride but beaming anyway. Even Aegon, who was smug enough about it for all of them.

Her dragon would come, not as a gift, nor as a birthright. She would not wait for an egg to hatch. She was waiting for the right moment to take one. And really, under her grandsire’s gentle reign, what need was there for dragonfire. A queen had other ways to rule.

But still, as they crossed the threshold into the dragonpit, and the hot breath of beasts curled in the air, she found her pulse quicken.

One day, when it mattered.

It did not take long before Jace and Luke found her.

Jace walked ahead, purposeful, his excitement barely contained. Luke, smaller and still growing into his limbs, practically bounded up to Aelys with the unshaken enthusiasm of a younger brother who had been waiting all morning for his sister,

“Aelys, mother said I improved much in High Valyrian,” Luke beamed, his small figure hugging into her

She ruffled his brown curls despite his weak protest, wrapping an arm briefly around his shoulders, “As a Targaryen prince should. Perhaps Jace should learn one thing or two from you.

Luke giggled, his face bright.

Ahead of them, Jace stiffened—he’d clearly heard.

Aelys raised her voice, just enough to carry.

“After all, it’s dracarys, not drasharys, dear brother.”

She let the syllables fall with exaggerated precision, her tone all silken mockery.

Jace turned his head, scowling over his shoulder.

“That was one time.”

Luke laughed outright, his delight echoing in the open air.

Amidst the banter, Aemond followed a step behind. He always did.

Aelys spoke to Jace with the sharpness of competition, but to Luke, she was different. She was gentle. Protective.

It was no doubt Aelys loved her brothers. It wasn’t the first time.

Aemond remembered her, several years past, standing with all the self-importance of a Velaryon princess at Luke’s first nameday feast when Lady Lannister’s little daughter had whispered something sharp about their hair, “brown like a common boy.”

Aelys had turned toward her with an expression so polite it was almost kind, “My brother’s hair shines like polished bronze,” she said softly. “And that makes him rarer than all the dull gold in Casterly Rock.”

And the Lannister girl had said nothing else for the rest of the afternoon.

Aegon was another story.

He walked beside Aelys, their steps in easy rhythm. They spoke in half-finished thoughts, their laughter low and private.

They didn’t need anyone else.

They never had.

The eldest prince.

The heir of the heir.

Their marriage was all but decided in the eyes of the court.

Ahead of him, Aegon brushed his fingers against Aelys’ braid—casual, familiar. She didn’t pull away.

Aemond’s jaw tightened.

He followed, silent, his pace measured.

But his hands curled once at his sides before he forced them still.

Aemond was outside of it.

He had always been outside of it.

And when they reached the foot of the Dragonpit, and the smell of sulfur grew thicker in the air, Aemond took a step closer.

And then, quietly—just enough for her to hear—Aemond spoke.

"The Hand should be the sword, you said."

Aelys turned her head, momentarily thrown off by his words. The restraint in his face only made his words cut cleaner.

"Would you still say that if the Hand was the one holding the true power?"

Aelys had not answered him directly, but she had answered him all the same.

She had turned her head, her silver hair catching the light, her violet eyes shimmering like polished amethysts.

She had smiled. Bright. As if it cost her nothing. The smile of a girl who had never wanted for anything.

"If the swordsman cannot wield the sword, it shouldn't have been in his possession in the first place."

She had blinked, unshaken and regal.

So utterly privileged in her belief that power would always be hers to command and to bestow.

Aemond felt something sharp curl in his chest.

She is a princess, the eldest princess of the Heir to the Iron Throne, who has never had to fight for her place.

She speaks of power as if it is something natural—something she will inherit, something the world will bow to without question.

Even now, she walks toward the Dragonpit like it is a place of entertainment. A place to watch her brothers soar, as if their dragons are an extension of her own future reign.

She had no dragon.

And yet, she is not restless.

She is not desperate. Not like him.

Because she does not need one. Not yet.

Aemond should have dismissed her comment as childish—but he couldn’t.

Because despite the silk and the untroubled grace of a girl raised to rule… her words had not been naïve.

She had not called the swordsman a servant.

She had not dismissed the sword as nothing.

She had not said the sword should obey the hand.

"If the swordsman cannot wield the sword, it shouldn't have been in his possession in the first place."

And Aemond understood what she meant.

If the crown could not control its blade—then perhaps the blade should decide for itself.

He had always known Aelys was clever, but he had never thought of her calculating.

Perhaps he had been wrong.

She was still a princess, a girl born into privilege, raised with the certainty that the realm would always bend to her, but she was not blind.

And she had just reminded him of his place.

A sword, Aemond. That is what you are to her.

Something to be wielded. Something useful.

Something that is only as valuable as the one who holds it.

Aemond inhaled slowly, steadying himself.

Then let us hope the swordsman never grows weak.

The heat of the Dragonpit settled over them like a heavy cloak, thick with the scent of sulfur and charred flesh. The ground beneath their feet was cracked from centuries of dragonfire, and the air carried the weight of an ancient power.

The keepers led out Vermax, his scales glinting a deep green under the torchlight. The young dragon was hot-tempered, restless, his wings twitching as if already longing for flight.

Aemond stood still, watching.

Jacaerys took a step forward, shoulders squared, the weight of command sitting uneasily on him. He raised a hand—hesitant, uncertain, yet eager.

"Dracarys."

Flames burst forth.

The poor sheep barely had time to scream before it was engulfed in fire, its body curling into ash and ruin. The stench of burning flesh filled the pit.

Aemond did not flinch. He barely blinked.

It must be a strange feeling.

To command a beast capable of death and destruction.

To know that a single word from your lips could reduce flesh to cinders.

Aemond’s grip tightened at his side.

The thrill of power.

Aemond saw it—the moment of hesitation, the glimmer of fear in Jacaerys’ eyes before Vermax obeyed.

He saw the way his hands trembled, the way his breath hitched in awe and uncertainty.

He is afraid of his own power.

And yet, he holds it all the same.

Power should not be held by those who fear it.

Aemond’s head snapped toward the roar of Sunfyre followed by his brother’s laughter, his thoughts interrupted.

There they stood—Aegon and Aelys.

The golden dragon, larger, older, magnificent in its youthful excitement, had nudged its great snout against her hand.

And then, Aemond saw them.

Aegon’s hand, covering hers, enveloping hers, guiding her touch against the warm golden scales of his dragon.

Aelys did not pull away.

She let him hold her hand, let him guide it along Sunfyre’s gleaming hide as if it were a natural thing.

He tore his gaze away, but the feeling did not fade. It would not fade. It only dug deeper, sharp and unyielding, carving something bitter into his ribs.

Aemond felt his breath slow, controlled, carefully measured.

Consumed by his thoughts, Aemond did not notice Aegon silently sneaking to little Luke’ side while Aelys was caught up trying to speak High Valyrian to Sunfyre, and whispered something mischievous in his ears. Then, a glance, a knowing smirk exchanged between Jacaerys and Luke, a spark of something unspoken but understood.

Aemond exhaled slowly, already bracing himself.

Before he could step away, Aegon was at his side, an arm slung lazily over his shoulders, his grin that of a cat toying with a trapped mouse.

“So, we’ve been wondering.”

Aemond said nothing.

“You are the only one among us without a dragon.”

The words were spoken lightly, as if it were an offhand observation, but Aemond knew better. Everything Aegon said was deliberate.

“Ah yes, Aelys—she flies with me,” Aegon blinked, feigning innocence.

The muscles in Aemond’s jaw tightened. He understood the reference immediately.

He remembered that day.

The day Aegon had taken Aelys on a reckless flight over Blackwater Bay, the day they had nearly drowned themselves after a miscalculated dive into the waves. The day Alicent had struck Aegon across the face.

Aelys would never have agreed to it, yet, she had gone.

Aemond inhaled. He would not react.

Aegon only smiled wider.

“So,” he continued smoothly, “we’ve decided to find you a dragon.”

Aemond turned to him, raising a brow. His voice, when it came, was calm, steady. Measured.

“A dragon?”

“How?” He raised his brows, concealing his interest.

Aegon’s grin stretched,“You will see.”

Aemond followed his gaze, eyes tracking the movement from the dark mouth of the Dragonpit.

Luke stepped forward, guiding something into the light, his face barely hiding his amusement.

The shape was small, ridiculous. Not a dragon.

A pig.

It was plump, pink, with wings made of cloth haphazardly tied to its back.

"The Pink Dread!"

The laughter rang through the Dragonpit, bouncing off the stone walls, loud and unrelenting.

Aemond stood rigid, his hands curled into fists, his breath slow, too slow. It was the kind of forced control that came before the breaking point.

The pig—The Pink Dread—snorted and fidgeted, its ridiculous cloth wings fluttering as it shuffled in the dirt.

Jace and Luke were grinning, proud of their little trick. Aegon stood at the center of it all, smug, triumphant, waiting to see just how long it would take before Aemond snapped.

“Seven hells, Aegon, are you really this stupid?”

Aelys’ voice cut through the laughter, exasperated. She stepped forward, pushing past Jace and Luke, her silver hair catching the torchlight as she glared at Aegon.

“I don’t have a dragon either, or did you forget? What, are you trying to insult your future queen?”

Aegon’s grin flickered—just for a moment—before he scoffed.

“Oh, come on, Aelys, it’s not the same—”

“Even having the most beautiful dragon cannot make up for your stupidity,” Aelys snapped, colder than usual.

For once, Aegon had nothing to say. His grin slipped, and he looked at her with a flicker of something she didn’t have the patience to name.

But she was no longer looking at Aegon.

Her gaze found Aemond in the half-light beyond them, where he stood apart from the others—as he often did, though she rarely thought to question it.

He hadn’t moved. His hands hung loose at his sides, his posture straight and composed, but there was a stillness to him that caught her attention in a way it shouldn’t have.

There was nothing remarkable about it.

She took a step toward him before she realized she meant to. Not out of pity. She told herself it wasn’t that. It was something else. Something she did not understand.

He held himself tightly, as if he had been carved from stone, every line of his body measured and precise.

She recognized the weight in his shoulders.

It was the weight of standing alone. She had forgotten the first time she had felt it. It was the weight of standing alone. She had forgotten the first time she had felt it.

Perhaps it was in those early years, when she stood at her mother’s side in court, naïve, or pretending to be, speaking with all the certainty of a girl who knew no fear.

Perhaps it was when she defended her mother’s claim with a sharpness that was dismissed as youthful pride, her words too smooth, too carefully chosen to be anything but rehearsed.

Or perhaps it was when she smiled sweetly while countering whispers about her brothers’ heritage, wielding innocence like a blade honed in secret.

All the while watching Alicent from across the hall, feigning courtesy as she struck at her in ways too subtle to be named for what they were.

The quiet weight of watching others laugh when you cannot.

She had not expected to see it on him.

Aelys let out a slow breath and smoothed her hand down the front of her skirts, a motion meant to settle herself more than anything.

She didn’t speak to him. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t sound hollow.

But before she turned away, she inclined her head ever so slightly. A gesture so small it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else.

But not by him.

And not by her.

Her attention snapped to Jace, who was still trying to smother his laughter.

“You are supposed to be the responsible one,” she said, arching a brow. “I see little evidence of it.”

Luke froze, blinking up at her.

She let out an exaggerated sigh and patted his head like he was a small, innocent child.

“Not your fault, Luke. You’re still young, easily misled.”

Jace’s amusement dimmed slightly.

“It was just a joke,” he muttered.

“Right.” She scoffed and glared at both Aegon and Jace. “A joke that needed a six-year-old to carry out. Next time, if you want to make a fool of someone, try handling it yourself.”

The laughter died completely. Aegon let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes as if she had just ruined his fun.

Jace shrugged, suddenly less sure of himself.

Luke fidgeted, his enthusiasm drained.

And Aemond—

Aemond stood silent, watching her. He was used to standing alone, to swallowing his rage and letting it fester in silence. He had not expected anyone to speak for him.

And yet, Aelys had.

She did not laugh. She did not ignore me. She spoke.

But was it because she believed in fairness? Or because she would not let them embarrass her along with him?

Does she see me?

Or does she just not want to be associated with someone being mocked?

The thought made his fingers twitch.

He did not know which answer would be worse.

The Dragonpit was quieter now.

The laughter had died. The joke had passed. But the air still felt charged, like the embers of a fire waiting to catch.

Aelys had turned away, stepping lightly toward Sunfyre, already moving past the spectacle as if it were beneath her concern.

Aegon exhaled through his nose, unamused but unwilling to argue.

Jace and Luke, once so triumphant in their prank, now shuffled awkwardly, their excitement drained.

And Aemond—

Aemond had not moved.

His hands had relaxed at his sides, his posture straight, his expression composed, but his mind was not still.

"If you want somebody to do your dirty work, choose better than a child."

He had heard the words. He had seen the way Aegon had taken them, the way Jace had looked down, the way Luke had wilted slightly under her gaze.

Aelys had control.

She had not raised her voice. She had not fought. She had spoken, and they had listened.

Aegon, for all his power, for all his arrogance—had been made to look like a fool.

Not with fire, not with steel, but with words.

And that, Aemond realized, was what made her… dangerous.

A swordsman could be disarmed. A swordsman could be killed.

But the one who wields the sword? The one who chooses where to cut, when to strike?

They are the true power.

Aemond tilted his head slightly, watching her.

She had dismissed the insult, dismissed the game, but she had not dismissed the system that allowed it to happen.

Because in the world Aelys envisioned, she was always the hand that wielded the blade.

She spoke the commands, she decided who won and who lost, and the world would always bow to that.

But the sword itself—the thing she wielded, the thing she needed, the thing she used to carve her future?

It was not him.

Not yet.

The air was thick with smoke, with the heavy scent of dragons, but all Aemond could taste was iron.

It was a slow, curling decision, one that settled deep into his ribs like something inevitable.

He would not wait for a blade to be placed in his hand.

He would take one.

Not for Aelys. Not for the court. Not for anyone but himself.

That night, as the others slept, Aemond would return to the Dragonpit alone.

And by sunrise, the world would know:

A swordsman without a sword was nothing.

But a swordsman who seized his own? That was something to fear.

Authors note:

As much as we grew hotd season 2 was a disaster in many aspects… I LOVED LOVED their characterization of Aemond and all my predictions from S1 were validated… This chapter put a lot of analysis on how Aemond thought when he was young and I know u might have a lot fo questions like ‘why does he even care about Aelys and Aegon?’ ‘Why is he jealous… is it just bcz this is a fmc X Aemond fic?’ These questions will be answered in the followed chapters. I hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what u think! Your comments mean the world to me as a uni student struggling to find time to write :))))

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond x oc

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