fish189

[fish189]

painter

Aemond Targaryen x fem!Painter!Reader

Summary: you are a royal painter, and Alicent wants Aemond to get his painting made after so long. But Aemond finds out you have a secret as an artist.

Notes: MDNI, kissing, teasing, arguing, tension, dirty sketches, pussy eating, handjob, almost getting caught

7.4K

NOT proofread

might make a part 2 might not idk

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A royal painting. It was a staple for the royal family, a way to show off their wealth and a way to brag about their children. And finally, it was Aemond’s turn. 

His last painting had been before his eye was carved out. Ever since then, he didn’t want to get painted. He didn’t want the world to see his disfigurement, didn’t want to see it come to life. It would feel too real, too close. But there was no way out of it this time.

He had woken up with a heavy feeling in his stomach, his head already pounding. His outfit had already been prepared and was hanging by his closet, almost laughing at his upcoming fate.

His mother had a new eyepatch made for him, for this ‘special occasion’, she’d said. The new leather had felt too rough against his skin when he tried it on, his old eyepatch already worn and soft. It had only added to his discomfort, and therefore added to the feeling of being mocked. His brother already had his made, and even though his brother was a drunk and probably indulged far too much, he looked like a proper prince in his painting. 

But Aegon didn’t have half of his face carved out.

Aemond finally sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose. Today the painter would probably need him for a couple of hours, the person sketching out his body and whatever lush surrounding his mother had picked to be around him. Aegon’s painting was of him standing close to a Targaryen banner, the rich fabric draped behind him. Aemond knew he would probably get something similar, maybe instead of a red banner it would be black, leaning into his entire ‘scary one-eyed prince’ facade he had gotten from the people. 

The night before he had ordered his servants not to bother him in the morning, needing some time to himself to prepare for the upcoming humiliation ritual. He had tried to talk his mother out of it, but she had insisted.

He stood up, walking over to his closet where his outfit was prepared. A black leather tunic, engraved with dragons on both sides. Just regular black breeches and boots, and of course his sword belt. He had, surprisingly, cleaned his sword the night before. If they wanted a polished painting, he would at least know his weapons were in order. And in a strange way, he felt comforted by that.

He took his time getting dressed, fumbling a bit with the buttons on his tunic. And for the first time in a while, he looked into the mirror to put his new eyepatch on. And he hated looking in the mirror. 

The new leather was digging into his skin, and felt far too tight around his head as well. He looked at his usual eyepatch, seeing it resting on his desk. He was tempted to put it on, but he knew his mother would look him over before the painter would start his work. 

Instead, he put it in his pocket, and exited his bedchamber.

He wore his usual impassive expression on his face when he entered the grand hall where his mother was already having her breakfast. She smiled when she saw him, standing up.

“Aemond,” Alicent breathed out, urging him closer. And as he expected, she took in his new tunic and the new leather that covered his missing eye. “How are you feeling? You look every inch the prince, my dear,” she said softly, though her words didn’t make a smile appear on his face. “It’s uncomfortable,” he said quietly, Alicent sighing. “It is just for the painting,” she murmured, cupping his face. “And you know it gets more comfortable as you wear it longer…”

Aemond pulled away from her, taking a seat at the table. He didn’t feel like talking any longer.

----------

After breakfast, Aemond was walking along with his mother towards his doom--the painter. They had chosen an empty chamber, Alicent explaining her ideas a bit to him. But he wasn't listening, not really. He was imagining his upcoming days, stuck in a dusty chamber with probably an old man who would try to hold a conversation with him. He would probably ask him about how he spends his days and--heavens be good--he would ask about Aemond’s scar.

“Here we are,” Alicent said, entering a room. Aemond just sighed, taking a deep breath before entering. 

He had been right. The chamber was dusty, a black Targaryen banner was hanging and a random stool with props was set before it. He looked up at the painter, and froze.

Alicent saw his reaction, and she walked over to him, her voice low and quiet. 

“She is the best painter,” she murmured to him, “I know it might be… unorthodox to have a female painter, but… I only wish for the best paintings. And hers stood out.”

Alicent took a step back, returning back to where the painter was. Aemond could only stare, though to you, it read as a very threatening look. You cleared your throat awkwardly, bowing before him. 

“Prince Aemond…” you started carefully. You introduced yourself, noticing that you stumbled a bit over your words. You had heard about the prince, of course, of rumours and horror stories. And seeing him now, glaring at you, it did little to ease your nerves. 

Alicent moved Aemond towards where the banner was, posing his body as if her was a mannequin. 

“A woman,” Aemond finally hissed lowly to his mother, looking at the way you were gathering your supplies. “I am being painted by a woman?”

“Be quiet,” Alicent hissed, making him hold a hand on his waist. “I will not tolerate disrespect.”

“Being painted by a woman is disrespect,” he retorted, his eye hardened. “I am a prince of the realm, so surely I deserve more than a low, female painter.”

Alicent stared back at him, her posture relaxed yet her gaze hard. 

“Aegon’s painting was made by her, as well,” she told him, “and unless you were lying when you praised the painter…” she trailed off, Aemond’s eye simply narrowing at her.

“I will pose, and have my painting made,” he finally said, “I do not see any reason te be kind.”

“Princes are civil,” Alicent replied.

“Not one-eyes ones.”

She fell silent at that, hating the way he spat out his crude alias. “She is kind,” she finally said softly. “If you do not wish to talk, then don’t.” She touched his shoulder, seeing him sigh in defeat. “Do it for me. I shall be most happy with a painting of my smart son.”

Aemond shook her off, casting his gaze down. He watched his mother return to the painter’s side, probably explaining her ideas to the other woman. And then the painter looked at him, truly looked at him, and it sent unpleasant shivers going down his spine.

Then, Alicent turned back to Aemond. “If you wish, I can stay-”

“I do not wish that,” Aemond said, a bit harsher than intended. Alicent just nodded once, before exiting the chamber.

And then they were alone. 

You were hesitating, he could tell. Aemond was good at reading people’s body language, knew it in the way they held themselves and the way they looked around. And it was clear that this painter wanted to leave. 

“I shall start with a sketch,” you suddenly said, making him stare right into your eyes. You faltered for a moment, then continued. “I might need to make a few sketches, so if you want to try a different position…” you noticed the way he grasped the hilt of his sword, “t-then that is alright, of course.” 

“Do whatever is best and quick. I do not wish to have it taken anyways.”

You paused at that, taking a breath before grabbing paper and charcoal. You started sketching him, noticing his tight posture and the glare in his eyes. Something had told you, deep inside, that perhaps the rumours and whispers surrounding the prince were not true. But seeing him now, in all of his glory, that little voice had died off completely. 

You sketched him from a few different angles, the silence becoming suffocating. Usually you conversed a bit with your subjects. His brother had been very chatty--flirty, yes, but also very chatty. But prince Aemond was standing almost as still as a statue, barely blinking. 

“So…” you started carefully, “being a Targaryen, I believe you have a dragon, too?”

You already knew the answer, but you were hoping this could be a start to a conversation, maybe a small peek into his mind. 

“I believe,” he started, his eye narrowing slightly, “you should keep silent and work faster.”

You fell silent. Maybe working in complete silence wouldn’t be too bad… but your sketches so far felt impersonal, uninspired. 

“I do not like to rush,” you tell the prince as you sketched out his figure, “I like delivering paintings I am most proud of.”

He stayed silent.

“I finished the painting of prince Aegon a few days ago. Have you seen it?”

More silence.

He had seen it, and he had been impressed by it. But that was before he knew the painting had been made by a woman. 

“I have seen it,” he said after a moment of silence. “It was… adequate.”

You suppressed a small smile. 

“Thank you, my prince,” you just replied. “Queen Alicent picked out what to put in the background. She had a creative mind.”

Even though his mother annoyed him at times, he still loved her. And the fact you spoke kindly of her, made him the tiniest bits less aggressive towards you.

“She is a smart woman,” Aemond replied, “she knows what is best for us, for the royal family.”

He spoke slowly, but controlled. You could tell that as he spoke, he was changing his posture in the slightest bits, a little less stiff and a little bit more relaxed. His hand was still on the hilt of his sword, but it was less harsh. 

You wrote down tiny notes on the paper, little reminders for yourself.

“A strong family head is most important,” you agreed with him. “A person leading everyone in the right direction and who guides the lost. 

Aemond quietly agreed. “She is smart, and strong,” and after a moment, he added; “for a woman.”

You stopped sketching for a moment, giving him your full attention now. You saw the glint in his eye, almost a clear challenge. And though he was from the royal family, you couldn’t help yourself but give in.

“For a woman?” you finally said after a moment, “does her sex have anything to do with it?”

Aemond was nearly happy you took the bait, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Of course,” he replied simply, “it has everything to do with it.”

“Please,” you said, sketching another line, “do elaborate.”

His eye turned hard again, just as harsh as it had been when he entered the chamber and saw you for the first time.

“It is a known fact women are emotional,” he started, talking as if he knew every single little thing about the opposite sex, “being emotional makes a person dangerous, unpredictable. As the head for a family, sure, they can be fine leaders. A woman’s duty is to become a mother, after all, so she should be able to take care of said family.”

You listened silently, though you were shaking your head at what he was saying. And of course, he noticed. 

“You do not agree?”

“I do not,” you said simply, noticing the way he adjusted the leather covering his eye for a moment. “A lot of people call women emotional…” you started, looking up at the prince, then back down to your sketch, “but I never understood why.”

“They are,” he said, cutting you off. “They are unpredictable, and emotional, and…”

“Every lady I have met,” you said, boldly cutting him off even as his sentence had trailed off, “has been demure, and silent, and listened. And I have painted a lot of families. The higher their rank, the more silent the woman had been. But-” Aemond looked at you, surprising you by simply listening, “But, the second I started up a conversation with them, they had the most interesting things to tell. About their hobbies and ways they raised their children in the most creative ways.” You sighed softly, grabbing a new paper and choosing a different angle. Aemond just watched you silently. “It is why I enjoy painting women, too. They are kind souls, and they are creative. They do not start arguments for fun. Or to prove me wrong.”

Aemond scoffed, knowing that you were hinting at him. But your words had given him pause. You were right, in a way. The most dramatic people he had ever met were in the small council, or lords bickering over an inch of land. The women were subdued and introverted, silenced by the men around her.

“I see,” he finally said after a moment. He wouldn’t apologise, he simply didn’t have a reason to. But the way you had spoken so boldly, yet so controlled, it made a tiny bit of respect flare up inside of him.

A silence fell after that. You found an angle you liked most, deciding to sketch it once more before putting it on the large canvas you had prepared. 

“I hadn’t expected the royal painter to be a… woman,” he said finally, making you look up again. 

Aegon had said the same thing to you, but in a far more flirty way. You smiled softly.

“Queen Alicent keeps it a secret,” you tell him, “or else I could get in trouble. But, yes, I am a woman.”

Your dress may be far simpler than his mother or sister would wear, but it was plenty enough for you. It was already covered a bit in charcoal, and once you would start using paint, the mess would only get worse. 

“Why pursue something that could get you in trouble?” he asked you, making you pause for a moment. 

“I love art,” you tell him finally, “I love creating things, putting my all into something. I have been creating since I was a young girl, and kept practicing ever since.”

You sighed, cleaning off your hands. “Only becoming a broodmare for a man I am forced to marry didn’t seem too interesting to me. I felt there simply must be more to life.”

Aemond’s eyebrow arched in surprise at your words, not expecting such crude ones about the life of a woman. But he could understand, in a way. Pursuing something that people said you would be unable to do. He himself had been told he wouldn’t be too good with his sword after he lost his eye. And in the end, he had proven them all wrong.

“You are bold,” he said finally, “but your secret is safe with me.”

You felt a bit of relief at his words. One word from the prince, and your secret would be out. You could get thrown in the dungeons, or… or perhaps even hung. A shiver went down your spine. 

“Thank you, my prince,” you said again, this time softer. And then it was silent again. 

You finished the sketch, setting down the charcoal and moving closer towards the prince to show him. He stiffened for a moment, his posture anything but welcoming.

“This is the general idea,” you told him, pointing to a few items on the sketch. You showed the pose, the angle, how you would put emphasis on the dragons carved on his tunic, and how the painting wouldn’t turn out too gloomy, even if the banner behind him was black.

“I would be honoured to hear your thoughts,” you said when he stayed quiet, only eyeing the paper. But even then, he stayed quiet for a long moment.

“I wish to change the scenery,” he said finally. He walked away from the appointed spot, over to where the window was. The view of the city was incredible, mountains reaching as far as the eye could see. An idea bubbled up inside of his mind, perhaps a mean one.

“I want to stand near the window. I want my painting to show the grandness of our realm.”

You walked closer to him, looking out of the window as well. The amount of detail and work this would take was immense. But when you saw the challenging look in his eye, you knew you couldn’t back down.

“I… see,” you said slowly, seeing the castle wall, the mountains, the bright blue sky…

Aemond smirked, turning to move the black Targaryen banner towards the window. “Yes, this is a lot better, no?”

You just nodded, your brain working a mile a minute as you tried to make this work with the sketch you had made and the change of scenery. The lighting would be different, and the draping of the banner as well, and…

“Well, was that all for today?” he asked, looking awfully pleased with himself. You swallowed, nodding. “Ah… yes, of course…”

You set your supplies down, bowing before the prince. “The day after tomorrow… we can start with the set-up of the painting.”

“Excellent,” he replied, and exited the chamber. You were left alone, staring at the new layout of the painting. And you were ready to scream.

----------

The next day was entirely spent prepping the new chamber. You had woken up early in your bed, the queen graciously having given you quite a luxurious chamber. But no matter how comfortable the bed was, you had been far too stressed to sleep well.

You had woken up early, forced a young servant boy to follow you as you walked towards the room. 

“Stand right here,” you commanded the child, the boy looking around uncomfortably as he stood there. You adjusted the banner hundreds of times, writing and sketching down how the sun was falling on the scenery at around what times. 

“Stand still,” you ordered the servant boy when he shifted his weight again.

“I can’t!” he whined, “we have been here for hours, can I leave now?”

“Of course, you are dismissed,” a deeper voice rang out, making you turn quickly. And there he was, smirk and all on his face, the prince himself.

The servant boy quickly bowed and ran out of the room, leaving you alone with the prince. You cleared your throat, storing the sketches away in your leather binder. “I thought we were meeting tomorrow?” you said evenly, not looking back at him.

Aemond walked further into the chamber, looking at the changes you had made. And though he wouldn’t admit it, the small changes you had made looked quite good. 

“I was wondering what all the commotion was,” he simply said, turning back to you. You noticed that he was wearing more laid back clothes today, the leather tunic worn and scratched up. His eyepatch, too, seemed to be a different one. And he looked far more… relaxed. More than yesterday, at least.

“There was no commotion,” you retaliated, the prince laughing drily.

“No? I’m sure I heard one of my servants nearly cry.”

You turned sharply, brows furrowed. “He was not crying,” you said, focusing back on your binder. “He simply… had to stand still. That is all.”

Aemond walked closer to you, looking into your binder. He could swear he saw a leg, before you abruptly closed it.

“I was simply making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow,” you told the prince, “I do take my job seriously.” Aemond studied you for a moment, but didn’t say anything.

“I see,” he said finally, taking a step back. “I can respect an artist who takes their work seriously. After all, this painting is most important to the royal family…”

He looked around, before walking back towards the door. “Until tomorrow,” and then he was gone.

You took a deep breath, sitting back down on the small stool. You couldn’t believe how much this prince was getting on your nerves. You looked back at your binder, seeing all the different sketches you had made. You grabbed one, looking at it with some appreciation. He might have interrupted the moment, but you had managed to get the perfect angle right before the prince had dismissed the servant. 

You sighed again, looking through your other sketches, finding the ones you had made for a different client. Being an artist was no easy task, and though the royal family paid well, it wasn’t enough to sustain your entire life. But there were always… certain people who wanted to get painted. Or wanted to get something painted. You were lucky you had to return next week, and not this week. Because you were certain this prince was going to keep you very busy.

----------

“Could you move a bit to the right, please?”

Aemond sighed deeply, before moving. You almost wanted to scold him, to say that this was his fault for wanting to be painted right next to a window, but you kept your mouth shut. He was far taller than the servant boy had been, meaning you had to figure out the lighting once again. 

You squinted your eyes, taking steps back to see the total image. 

“A tiny bit to the left- yes, yes, that’s perfect!” You felt giddy when the sun finally hit the prince at the perfect angle, making him look every inch the prince and warrior. He stood still, watching you rush to your canvas and starting the rough sketch.

You worked in silence, looking from the prince to your canvas and back. He studied you in turn, wondering if he truly was supposed to stand in utter silence for the next few hours, or if you would start a conversation with him. But you seemed too focused to start a conversation.

“Will I need to stand here for the entire painting?” he asked you finally, you looking back at him, though not stopping your work. 

“Not necessarily," you told him. “I hope today I can start blocking out a few colours, and then tomorrow start working on painting your face. Once that is done, you do not need to pose anymore.”

Aemond nodded slowly, feeling a bit of relief. “And if I choose to stand every single day until it is finished?” He was clearly teasing again, wondering if you would react the same you had just two days ago.  You hummed, nearly having finished the sketch now.

“Well, be prepared to stand here for a month, maybe even more.” His eyebrows raised at that. 

“Really?” he asked you, “a painting takes that long?”

“Well, to complete one, with details and all… and this size canvas as well… yes, probably.”

He was silent again, shifting a tiny bit to your dismay. But you stayed quiet, focusing on your work. 

“Does it never get boring?” he asked again, and you shook your head. 

“Not really, I like doing detailed, precise work.”

He thought back to yesterday, how he had seen part of a sketch with what seemed like a bare leg.

“Do you only make portraits?” he asked suddenly, which made you freeze a bit. Aemond smirked, feeling like he was about to discover something major.

“Well… mostly, yes,” you started carefully, “but I also like painting landscapes.”

“Anything else?”

You were quiet. 

“Pets and animals, too.”

Aemond’s single eye narrowed, but he stayed silent. He knew there was something you were hiding, but he didn’t know what. But he would certainly get to the bottom of it.

----------

A few more days passed, you working more on the sketch, then getting ready to paint and start blocking out the colours. And every single time, Aemond’s gaze fell on your binder. 

He knew you were hiding something, he was certain he had seen something when you were storing away your sketches. But what?

Call him foolish, but he had stayed awake just so he could sneak into the room at night.

The castle was dark and abandoned, save from a few guards at their post. They simply greeted him, before continuing their surveillance. The chamber wasn’t too far from his bedchamber. Just two stairs, a long corridor to the left, and…

He softly pushed the door open, wincing when it creaked a bit. He entered the chamber, the moonlight giving him just enough light so he could see where your supplies were. He took a moment to look at the painting you had left to dry, noticing you really were making a lot of progress. He pushed down the feeling of awe, focusing back on what he came to do. He wasn’t here to admire your work, he was here to find out more about you. He found not one, but three binders that you had left.

He took a deep breath, opening the first one. He didn’t see anything weird about this one, just a few old sketches of ladies you had painted, and some sketches of animals. This one was normal.

He opened the second one, seeing much of the same. He did find a few sketches you had made of his brother, reading the small words you had written around it. He smirked, noticing the words ‘drunk’ and ‘direct’ around them. But again, he didn’t see anything weird.

He grabbed the final one, noticing that this one was tied more firmly, as if you really didn’t want it to accidentally open.

He fidgeted a bit with the knot, before deciding to open it anyways. He had come so far already, there was no turning back. He fumbled with the knot, picking and tugging until he finally opened it. He held his breath, slowly looking through the sketches. 

And he found… normal ones. He found sketches of himself, more sketches of animals, and he wanted to groan in frustration. He was certain he had seen something weird, something different when you had put away his sketches, but where… and then he saw it.

He fell silent.

There, on the paper in grey tones, was a drawing of a man. And a woman.

He knew artists sometimes had studies of naked subjects, so they could practice anatomy, but this? This was not an anatomy study, he was certain. He looked at the small text you had written around it. 

‘Comission Olly and Nora’

He knew it. He knew you needed to do something other than simply painting commissions from wealthy families. You drew people nude; coupling. Aemond smirked at this new information. Now this… this could get you in trouble. And as a woman, no less…

He looked through different sketches, seeing a few more. More names, more positions and different people. Aemond would be lying if he said the images weren’t affecting him. He felt a flush creep up on his neck, his hands less steady than they usually were. 

You were a… great artist. And these indecent sketches certainly proved that. He slammed the binder shut, putting knots in the ropes holding it together. And then he went back to his bedchamber.

----------

“I believe I may be finished with the face after today,” you told the prince, adding details to his face. Aemond had been awfully quiet, watching you with a closer eye than normal. “As in… you do not have to pose anymore after today, probably…”

Still no reply.

It was almost unnerving, the way he was staring at you, as if he was simply waiting for the right moment to strike. You cleaned your brush, clearing your throat before continuing putting more details in his hair. 

He finally cleared his throat. “May I look?” he asked politely, and you didn't see any reason to deny him. You took a step back from the painting, making space for the prince to look.

“Hmm…” he said, looking at the canvas. It already looked great, the amount of detail in his face actually giving him pause. He looked at the rest, seeing the sketch you had made of his body, the way you had blocked out the colours of his clothing and the banner. He also saw the background slowly being formed, the view out of the window indeed showing the beauty of King’s Landing. 

“You are very talented,” he murmured after a while, glancing towards you. “The… anatomy in particular. However did you become so good at that?”

You stiffened a bit, focusing on cleaning off your brush instead. “Lessons, I suppose,” you told him, “I learned the basics of anatomy. With practice I got better.”

“What kind of practice?” He asked, cutting you off.  He laughed drily when he saw your expression, shifting his weight. “I am just curious, my lady, no need to get defensive.”

“I learned it the same way a man would,” you bit back, growing more annoyed and defensive. “You learn by drawing live models.”

Aemond hummed at that, his eye meeting yours. “I see… and you have practiced the nude form of men and women, then?”

You stared back at him, the hairs at the back of your neck standing up. There was no way he knew, you had hidden everything away. 

“Well, yes…” you started carefully, the smirk on Aemond’s face not faltering. He just nodded, looking back at the sketch you had made of him.

“I have seen work like this before,” he said after a moment, his hand rubbing his chin, “in… less polite establishments.” He studied your face, seeing a nervous flush forming on your neck.

“I do not know what you are talking about,” you said dismissively, taking a step back. But Aemond knew he was close to getting the truth from you, and he stepped closer. 

“Tell me,” he murmured lowly, “do you truly earn enough from creating these paintings? Or… do you have a secret business on the side?”

You stayed awfully quiet, your lips parted as you looked at him. 

"You must have a most... extensive set of sketches hidden away somewhere. I would be most curious to see them."

You took a shaky breath, shaking your head. “I do not know what you are implying," you whispered again, desperate for him to give up on his questioning. You took another step back, the brushes still clenched in your hand. “I earn… I earn more than enough painting lords and ladies alike. I have no need to… to have another business.”

“Oh, I think we both know that is not true…” he nearly purred, walking even closer to you. Any distance you tried to have between you two got closed immediately by the prince. 

“I want to see them,” he said finally, his eye moving to your lips for just a split second. “Show me those sketches you make… and I will consider keeping it a secret for the world.”

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head. “I cannot show them,” you whisper, finally giving in, “it is not proper.”

“I think we passed the point of propriety a while ago, my lady,” he teased, his voice smooth as he teased you. He leaned in closer, his lips next to your ear. “Show me,” he whispered again, “tonight. Or else I will make sure the entire realm knows of your… dirty artworks.”

Your eyes widened, and Aemond pulled back, a smirk on his lips. 

“Meet me here, at the hour of the owl,” he stated, “and if you don’t…” he trailed off, but the warning was clear enough for you. You watched breathlessly as the prince exited the chamber, leaving you alone with your thoughts. And you knew then that you were in trouble. 

----------

You hadn’t been able to do anything more that day. His words were ringing in your ears, and there was nothing that you could do. The hour of the owl arrived far too slowly, and after you had grabbed your hidden binder, you made your way towards the chamber where he would probably already be waiting for you. 

You moved silently, not wanting anyone to see that you were sneaking about at such ungodly hours. 

And when you finally arrived, the prince was already there. He turned when he heard the door open, a small smile on his lips. “Ah, my lady,” he greeted, immediately noticing the binder under your arms. “You came bearing gifts?”

You couldn’t even smile at his joke, too worried that you were going to get thrown in the dungeons for this. 

“You cannot tell anyone,” you whispered, setting the binder down. Aemond raised his hands, crossing one over his heart. “You have my word,” he murmured, far too eager to look at your drawings. 

You took a step back, allowing him to open the binder and go through it. Aemond started undoing the knot, feeling awfully eager.

“I do make money from this,” you breathed out, “people pay a lot for works like this. And… and I need the income.” You fidgeted with your hands nervously, Aemond opening up the binder and going through the countless sketches.

Aemond flipped through the pages of the binder, his eye widening with each turn. The sketches were... exquisite. Explicit, even. The prince felt a familiar stirring as he looked at the naked forms captured on paper. Men and women alike, posed in intimate, provocative ways. Even a few where there was a man and a woman portrayed, being awfully close.

He paused on a bold sketch, a drawing of a woman laying on a chaise, her legs spread, one of her hands brushing against her revealed breasts. Aemond took a deep breath, almost able to imagine that this was a sketch of you.

He turned back to face you, noticing the way you were staring down at the floor. “These are…” he said slowly, making your eyes snap back to him, “exquisite. Sinful.” 

You flushed.

“Tell me, sweet lady, do you watch these people when you create these? Watch them as they lose themselves in pleasure while you simply watch, and draw?”

You took a shaky breath, shaking your head. “N-no,” you whispered, “I do not watch them.”

This surprised Aemond. He could already imagine you sketching two lovers intertwined, squeezing your thighs tightly as your own arousal got pushed to the side. 

“No?” He asked, taking a step closer to you. He was holding a sketch of a man and a woman together, the man taking his lover in missionary. “Then however do you sketch this with such… detail?”

“I have a book,” you replied, barely audible. This surprised Aemond even more. “I-it is a book where… where there are different… positions…” you murmured carefully, “and then the… the couple chooses which one they want… to be immortalised.”

This was good. This was too good, Aemond thought. Here you were, the cutest and most talented painter, admitting you have a book filled with sexual positions. Does that mean you were still…

“Are you untouched?” he asked boldly, making your eyes widen. 

“W-what?” you stammered, wanting to take another step back, but the brick wall of the castle held you in place. Aemond smiled at you, caging you in. 

“Are you…” he repeated, “untouched? By others… and yourself?”

"I... I don't see how that's any of your business," you finally managed to choke out, even as a traitorous part of you ached to confess the truth. That yes, at your age, you were still a maiden. But you had touched yourself. How could you now, after all of the things you had seen in that book, after seeing the things you had created yourself. 

“I am a lady,” you whispered, shivering when you felt his lips brush against your cheek. “A lady…” he repeated, “who creates such wanton artwork.” His hands moved to your waist, his touch nearly electric. “Tell me, sweet lady, do you not wonder?” His eye searched yours, seeing the effect he was having on you. Your walls were crumbling down, he could tell. “Do you not wonder what it would be like… to be in the position of the ladies you draw so well?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, something the prince didn’t miss. 

“I… I…” you stammered, unable to even think straight anymore. 

“Show me your favourite one,” he said quietly, “your favourite sketch… and I might make that a reality for you.” His teeth grazed your earlobe, nipping gently. 

Your breath hitched, a shiver going down your spine. You tried to stay quiet, to not admit the fantasies that roamed your mind at night. But he was making it awfully difficult. His hands were roaming over your body, his fingers skipping the lines of your bodice before his hand cupped your breast. You gasped, arching into his touch as he squeezed the flesh gently. 

“Come on…” he urged you on, “tell me.” His lips grazed the delicate skin of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his breeches, your knowledge on anatomy enough for you to understand exactly what it was. 

“It’s-” you managed to whimper out, “it’s the last one you had looked at.”

Aemond paused for a moment, a smile spreading on his lips. “Ah… I see…”

He took a step back from you, walking back over to the table where your sketches were lying on. He grabbed the last one he had looked at, smiling at the scene. It was a woman, laying down on a chaise while her lover was between her spread thighs, his face buried. He let his eye roam over the scene, his heart rate speeding up. He turned the page to you, showing you the familiar lines of the scene. 

“Such a naughty girl,” he purred out, putting the sketch back down. “To sketch such a dirty scene…”

He walked back towards you, one of his hands tangling in the hair at the back of your skull. “You want me to do this to you, sweet lady?” he breathed against your lips. “You want me to spread that sweet cunny open? To devour you whole?”

You shivered again, your own hands holding onto his tunic. All you could do was nod, not trusting your own voice. 

“I have been wondering,” he murmured against your lips, “if your pussy tastes as sweet as you act.”

He dropped to his knees before you, your body leaning heavily against the stone wall. His hands tugged up your skirts, his breath halting for a moment when he saw the wet patch in your smallclothes. He smirked, leaning in to press his face against the fabric. He inhaled deeply, moaning softly.

“By the Gods, I want you,” he groaned, sounding almost like he was in pain. He managed to pull back, grabbing your hand. “Lie down for me,” he urged you on. “I cannot wait any longer.”

You allowed him to pull you along, almost in a trance. You knew this was wrong, so wrong. He was a prince, and you were still a maiden. You should say no, leave now with your virtue still intact, but the ache between your thighs was now impossible to ignore. You allowed him to lead you to the chaise, removing the cloth that was covering it. 

He grabbed your hands again, playfully nipping at your fingers. You watched him with wide eyes, your arousal now soaking through your panties. He stepped closer, holding your body close against his, and kissed you.

He kissed you deeply, his lips moving against yours before brushing his tongue against your lips. You clutched his sleeves, allowing him closer, needing him closer. His tongue slipped between your lips, moving against yours. His movements grew needier, more impatient. He pressed you harder against him, his hands at the back of your dress undoing the lacing. You could only kiss him back, try to mimic his movements as you held onto him for dear life. Your dress felt looser, and with a sharp tug, the prince pulled it down. He managed to pull back, eyeing you up and down.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed out, walking you back towards the chaise. You fell down on it,  staring up at him with that gorgeous, needy expression. He looked down at you, adjusting himself in his breeches. 

“Undress,” he ordered, “Now. Do not make me wait.”

You scrambled to take off your boots, then your stockings and your thin shift. Your movements were hurried, clumsy.

“I-I have never-”

“I know,” he cut you off, staring at your nude body. He crawled over you, pressing another deep kiss to your lips. His hands roamed over your skin, groping and squeezing and teasing. “You are a work of art,” he purred against your breast, taking a nipple into his mouth. You mewled and arched into his touch, one of your hands burying in his long hair. “And I am the first to claim you.”

He moved further down, propping himself up between your thighs. You looked down at him breathlessly, your heart pounding. And then, he attached his mouth to your cunt.

He moaned at the taste, your sweet arousal coating his tongue. He lapped eagerly, his hands holding your hips tightly into place.

“Oh!” you moaned out, your hips bucking.one of your hands moved to tangle in the prince’s hair, mewls and moans escaping you. “Oh, Gods-”

Aemond groaned against your core, moving to attach his lips to your clit. You were so soaked, so warm--you were perfect. He moved down again, fucking your tongue into your pussy while using his free hand to rub at your pearl.

You were nearly sobbing, the new, intense sensations setting every single nerve ending on fire. You felt a knot forming in your stomach, growing tighter, and tighter, and-

You sobbed his name out, bucking your hips hard into his face as your orgasm washed over you. Aemond groaned in satisfaction as he felt your release, lapping up every drop of your ambrosia, his own cock throbbing almost painfully in the confines of his breeches. He slowly let up, resting back on his heels while staring down at your panting, flushed body. He could only smile, watching the way you covered your face in exhaustion and embarrassment. He leaned down to press a final kiss to your mound, before covering your body with his. 

He kissed you softly, pulling your hand away from your face. 

“Beautiful,” he breathed out, seeing the satisfied and tired look in your eyes. He pressed another kiss to your lips, his nose nuzzling against yours. 

“That was… amazing,” you breathed out, a smile forming on the prince’s face. He palmed his aching cock through his breeches, unable to look away from you. His free hand grazed over your breast, before sliding down your arm and grabbing your hand. He guided it to his cock, a soft groan escaping him. 

“Touch me,” he murmured, guiding your hand along his clothed length, “make me feel good.” 

You whined softly, following along his movements. He throbbed under your touch.

He placed his hand over yours again, pressing you firmer against him. His hips bucked, a low moan escaping him. “Please me,” he ordered gently, “I’ll make you feel good again, too.”

He slowly undid the laces to his breeches, shoving the fabric down his thighs and taking himself in his hand. You whined softly when you saw him, and he guided his hand back towards his hard cock.”Yess-” he hissed, hips bucking, “Be a good girl and please me-”

A sudden noise outside on the hallway made both of you pause. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, pulling away and tugging his breeches back up. He peeked outside of the door, noticing which hour it was. 

“Get dressed,” he ordered, even though the thought of you covering up your gorgeous body pained him. “We must leave.”

He walked over to your binder, storing all of the sketches carefully before locking it up again. You rushed to get dressed again, putting on your dress and boots. Aemond paused for a moment, pressing a kiss to your hand.

“We’ll meet again,” he promised, not wanting to let you go yet. He handed you the binder of drawings, a small smile on his lips. “Tomorrow, to be exact.”

You took a shaky breath, a small smile forming on your lips. 

“And perhaps,” he said softly, “you can make one of those lovely sketches for me. Of your body, of course.”

You felt your skin heat up again, but you nodded regardless.

And with a final kiss, you both snuck away, back to your chambers. But you couldn’t sleep.

[fish189]

About the fic request.

The other day i had a dream where the reader and aemond are not betrothed to eachother but they are kinda flirting because the reader likes reading just like aemond.

Then one day a lannister princess comes into court and aemond starts paying more attention to her because she is pretty so the reader gets jealous.

I woke up after that and i dont have a full context because it was a dream xd but i really like your fics and your creativity so if you could bring my literal dream to reality it would be so cool!!! (Only if you want to ofc) <3

i likey this very much will work on this when im done with my current fic muahaha

[fish189]

thank you for the martin fic, he’s my man <3

yessss hes so hot,,,,im glad u liked it!!! xxx

[fish189]

closing shift

Martin Lefevre x Reader

Summary: Martin fucks you in the tiny stockroom at your job. that's it.

Content: almost no plot at all, fingering, kissing, handjob, he calls you good girl and princess, finger sucking, PiV, creampie (use protection), standing doggy, kinda public but not really

Note: this is 100% self-indulgent i just want this stupid loser

2.2K

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Just twenty minutes left. You sighed, resting your head on your hand as you looked out of the large windows of the store you worked at. You worked in a small boutique, and today you had the closing shift. It wasn’t too much work luckily, just cleaning up a bit and straightening up the store, and of course the money aspect bla bla…

You yawned again, checking the time once more. Nineteen minutes left until you could finally close up. You managed to drag yourself away from the entrance, moving towards the back to grab the vacuum. Just a bit more cleaning, and then you would be done. You cleaned the fitting rooms, a bit around the store where you could reach and until where you felt like it. 

You stored the vacuum back up again, looking at the time. Thirteen more minutes. Not too bad, you thought, just a few more minutes. You could probably close a few minutes earlier, too.

You walked over to the table where some jeans were all messed up, folding them up as a way to spend the last few minutes. When you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind, you nearly screamed.

“Woah, cool it,” you heard your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Jesus fuck-” you breathed out, turning around to look at him. “I thought you were picking me up, like, fifteen minutes after closing!”

He smiled lazily, leaning against the counter. “Eh, had some free time so I decided to come earlier.” He looked around the store, not seeing any couches or chairs. So he settled on leaning against the counter, watching you tidy up the last bits.

“Did you have a good day?” he asked, you turning around when you had finished cleaning up.

“Mm, yeah, was fine,” you hummed, walking back over to him. He was wearing his regular baggy jeans with a black hoodie, a chain dangling from his washed-out jeans. 

“You?” 

He opened his arms, beckoning you closer for a hug. He was warm and smelled good, and you just wanted to stay wrapped up in his arms. After a moment, you pulled back.

“Was fine,” he replied, not bothering to tell you any details about his boring day. “Long.”

You nodded once, checking the time again. Five more minutes.

“I’m closing in two,” you said, not wanting to wait a second longer than that. The day had been too long already, and you were ready to go home. You walked behind the counter, getting the papers for closing ready. “Did you figure dinner out yet?” You asked Martin, seeing him fidget with the strings of his hoodie. 

“Tacos,” he simply replied, making you shake your head with a soft smile. 

“Tacos,” you repeated, and he just nodded his head. 

“Yeah, baby, tacos. Got all the shit, lettuce and cheese and the shells and filling and guac.” He seemed proud of himself, clearly excited for the dinner coming up.

“Yum,” you hummed, checking the time again. Two more minutes. “I’m closing,” you murmured to yourself, walking over to the door and locking it. 

“Finally,” you huffed, Martin touching your waist as you walked past him again. You turned the lights off, tapping on the register and closing up. 

“Just need a couple minutes,” you murmured softly, Martin nodding patiently. 

Martin watched you work efficiently, locking up and shutting down the store. Once you were finished, he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest.

"All done now, baby?" he asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You hummed softly, a smile forming on your lips. “Yeah, just need to get my things…”

You walked to the back, opening it with your key. Martin slowly followed after you, his fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt as he walked along. You smiled softly at his neverending touches, finding them quite cute.

You walked into the small breakroom, grabbing your bag and jacket from the locker. 

Suddenly Martin appeared again, leaning lazily against the door opening. "Found everything you need?" he asked with a casual smirk. "I thought you said you were excited to go home, but you're taking forever back here."

“Oh, hush,” you huffed out, walking over to the small kitchen area and storing away your clean mug. “Just need my phone, and…”

He stepped closer, crowding into your personal space. His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. "Unless there's something else you need help with, hmm?"

He pressed you back against the small kitchen counter, his hands sliding up your shirt to graze along your skin. Your breath hitched, goosebumps forming wherever his fingers touched. 

“Martin…” you said softly, feeling him lean in to press kisses along your jaw. “Baby… we should do this at home…”

Even though you tried to protest, you leaned into his touch, your own hands tugging at his sweater. You felt him smirk against your skin, his long black hair brushing against your cheek. 

“Come on, baby… this place is deserted anyways.” His hands slid higher up your shirt, brushing just at the underside of your breasts. You moaned softly, your heart pounding. He pressed you harder against the small kitchen counter with his hips, and you already felt him hard in his jeans.

“Just you ‘n me, baby…” he murmured again, pressing featherlight kisses against your throat. His fingers slid underneath the fabric of your bra, your back arching a bit when his fingers brushed against your nipples. He pushed the fabric fully up, his hands cupping your mounds. 

“Fuck, I want you,” he groaned softly, pressing his hips harder against yours. “Feel that? Feel how badly I want you?”

And you could. His cock was rock-hard already, pressing against the denim of his jeans. “Just a quickie, baby, come on.”

He stared into your eyes, before leaning in and kissing you deeply. He forced his tongue between your lips, groaning when his tongue slid against yours. It was messy, sloppy. Hot. 

“I’ll be quick,” he mumbled again, his hands letting go of your breasts to grope your ass, “I promise I’ll be quick-”

He kissed you again, pushing you harder back into the cramped storage room. You moaned at his eagerness, your arms wrapping around his neck. There was barely any space to move, the boutique having the tiniest stockroom, with a small kitchen and space for barely two people to be there at the same time. 

He growled softly, pulling away from the kiss enough to look around and try to find a spot to fuck you in.

“Cramped fucking space-” he said annoyed, before tugging your shirt up just enough to expose your breasts. He moaned softly when he saw them, leaning down to take one of them eagerly into his mouth. He suckled and nibbled, making you arch and whine.

“Martin-” you gasped out, feeling a shelf prod into your back. You barely registered it, too horny to feel anything but Martin sucking on your nipple.

His hands fidgeted with the button of your jeans, popping it open and sliding the zipper down. He pushed the fabric down halfway your thighs, a hand slipping into the soft cotton panties you were wearing. 

His digits slid further into your panties, long fingers brushing through your folds. He could feel your arousal coating his digits, making him let out a shaky sigh.

"Fuck, you're so wet already," he muttered, pulling off your nipple with a soft pop. "I've barely touched you, and you're already dripping."

You scoffed at that, bucking your hips against his fingers. “You’ve touched me a lot already-” you tried to retaliate, groaning when he pressed a finger inside. He just smiled at your attitude, clearly eager for the main course. 

He circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, teasing the sensitive nub as he slipped a second finger inside your tight pussy. He pumped them slowly, curling it to hit that special spot deep inside you. His other hand fumbled with the button of his own jeans, popping it open and shoving them down just enough to pull out his hard cock.

His breathing got heavier, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Come on, princess,” he breathed out, “help me out here.”

You swallowed, moving your hand towards his cock. Martin groaned deeply when he felt your hand wrapping around his cock, his hips bucking. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl-” he rocked his hips, fucking your hand with his cock. His fingers kept moving inside of you, your wetness running down his fingers. He used his thumb to press against your clit, biting down on the soft skin of your neck. 

“Getting tighter on me-” he grunted out, “you ready, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, your heart pounding. “‘M ready, baby-” you whimpered, “please, please, I need it-”

Your boyfriend groaned softly, pulling his fingers out of your soaked pussy. “I got you, baby,” he mumbled, tugging your jeans and panties further down your legs. He looked around the tiny stockroom, his brain working overtime in trying to find a way to make this work. 

He grabbed your hips, squeezing softly. “Turn around baby,” he commanded sweetly, making another bolt of arousal course through you.

You turned around, feeling Martin kick your legs a little further apart--as far as your jeans at your ankles allowed. “Good girl,” he murmured, grabbing his cock and teasing you for a short moment with his tip. You bent further over the tiny kitchen counter, hearing him take in a sharp breath. 

And then he pressed forward. 

His fingers squeezed your hips tightly, a hiss escaping him. “Fuuuuck yes-” he moaned out, bottoming out completely. “Love this perfect fucking pussy-”

You whined out, holding on for your dear life. “Martin-” you whined, pressing your hips back against his impatiently. 

“Shhh…” he said as he leaned forwards, his lips pressing against your ear. “What if other closing stores heard you? Gotta be quiet, baby…”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, Martin loving to tease you. He slid out of you, before fucking back into you. You whimpered, doing your best to stay quiet. One of his hands moved from your waist to your breast, squeezing it and pinching your nipple.

“Fuck yes,” you panted out, moving harder back against him. You needed this so badly, needed him to make you cum right here at your shitty fucking job. 

“That’s it,” he groaned out, his hand moving down from your breast, sliding over your stomach before reaching your pussy and rubbing at your clit. He felt you clench around him, making his hips start to move faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small space. He was getting close too, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your fluttering walls.

“Wanna make you come, sweet girl,” he whispered in your ear. He rubbed harshly against your clit, making you bite your lower lip hard to keep from moaning too loud. 

“Martin-” you gasped, your boyfriend slipped two fingers into your mouth. “Shhh…” he whispered again, “just take it. Take my cock.”

You whined around his fingers, sucking on them like a good girl. Martin sped up, and you could feel the knot in your stomach growing impossibly tight. 

“Come for me, princess,” he panted, sliding his fingers out of your mouth and tilting your face back towards him, “come around my cock.”

He kissed you deeply, fucking himself one, two mote times into you, when you finally came. You moaned into his mouth, your entire body tensing and shuddering. He continued to thrust into you, fucking you through your intense orgasm and drawing it out as long as possible.

He kept praising you until he tensed up, coming deep inside of you with a soft groan. He let go of your face, resting his head against your shoulder as he slowly came down from his high with you. His hands slipped around your waist, holding you close. 

He stayed like that for a moment, just holding you as you both caught your breath. He pressed soft kisses to your jaw and neck, murmuring praise against your skin.

"Goddamn, baby," he panted softly, "that was amazing. You did so fucking good, took my cock like such a good girl."

You smiled softly, tapping his leg. He took the hint, pulling out of you with a slight wince. He tucked himself back into his jeans, you turning to face him slowly. Before you could move to pull your own jeans back up, your boyfriend cupped your face in his hands, pressing the softest kiss to your lips. You smiled softly, feeling him use the sleeves of his sweater to gently wipe away the sheen of sweat that had appeared on your brow. 

"You okay, princess?" he asked softly, his eyes searching yours with concern. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I know I got a little rough there at the end..."

He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, then another to the tip of your nose. You just smiled, shaking your head no. “You didn’t,” you told him, making him feel a bit more at ease. “I liked it.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, before bending down to help you tug up your jeans again.

“You’re the best,” he murmured, watching you button and zip up your jeans. You looked around the small stockroom again, grabbing all of your stuff. “I’m ready to go now,” you told him, Martin grinning and pulling you in for another kiss. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. You melted against him, pecking his lips a final time. “Let’s go home.”

[fish189]

Are you taking requests? cause ive been thinking about a fic with jeaulosy hehe

depends! let me hear ur thoughts!

[fish189]

I love your writhing so much. Everytime I read a fic and love it I know it was you who wrote it.

THANK U AH i'll cry thank you so much <333

[fish189]

giiiirl i just read Bug and it was amaziiinggg love love love it, can't wait for more of ur writings about wlw Helaena u kill it

thank uuuu so much! im def gonna be writing more oneshots ab her <3

[fish189]

Bug

I'm finally done!!! I can't believe it because I usually suck at finishing these kinda things but bug is done. Check it out if you want to <3

it's a friends to lovers between you and Helaena, with a side of crushing on Alicent (in the beginning)

There's smut and insects and feelings

Bug -- Helaena Targaryen x Reader - Modern AU

Helaena had been quite upset when her father Viserys passed away. This was probably also one of the main reasons that you two started to grow closer. She had shown up at school, trying to act as normal as possible, not wanting to draw any attention to herself. But you noticed. --- A story where you and Helaena go from friends to something more. Oh, but you're also into her mom. Don't let her know, though.

19.7K

[fish189]

im working on bug i promise

[fish189]

jealousy

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Summary: After Aemond sees you smiling with a cook, he gets insanely jealous. And he doesn't know how to deal with that.

Content: angst (ish?), jealousy, insecurity, Aemond being mean and not willing to listen, ignoring, PiV sex (as a way to show devotion), riding, aemond lowkey being a drama queen

Note: this lowkey feels like a word vomit so sorry for any mistakes

2K

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Aemond watched his wife from across the crowded hall, his single eye following your every move. You had only been married a few short moons, yet already you seemed to be drifting from him. Currently, you appeared deep in conversation with one of the kitchen boys, laughing loudly at something he had said. Aemond frowned, his eye narrowing. Who did this scrawny serving boy think he was, putting such a smile on his wife’s beautiful face? He rose abruptly from his seat, ignoring the questioning look from his brother nearby. Striding across the hall, Aemond took your arm in what was probably a rougher grip than intended. You turned to him in surprise.

"Husband, what-"

"We are leaving." His gruff tone booked no argument. With a polite but tight nod to the now wide-eyed kitchen boy, Aemond steered his wife swiftly from the hall. Once you had retreated to the empty corridors, you yanked your arm from his hold. "Aemond, what in seven hells has gotten into you?" Aemond scowled, unsure himself why the sight of you joking with another man had sent rage coursing through his veins. He was usually not one to show emotions easily.

He knew he should think rationally, take a moment to calm down and have a proper conversation with his wife. But he couldn’t. He felt too angry.

“What has gotten into me?” he replied angrily, his eye staring down into yours. “What has gotten into me?” he repeated, your eyes widening.

“You drift away from me any chance you get,” he said in a low voice, warning clear in his voice. 

He struggled to show tenderness, he knew this. He had married you hoping to find some companionship, and though he had found some, he knew his own social skills still needed a lot of work. But now, seeing you so easily laughing and conversing with another man--a scrawny cook, no less--made him doubt himself. Did you need more than he could give? Was your laughter simply not meant for him?

He swallowed, a bitter taste filling his mouth. He grasped your arm again, a bit more gentle than before. 

“Do I please you so little, wife?” he asked you, “So little that you are already looking for amusement elsewhere? Am I not husband enough for you? Not man enough?”

His words were rough, though there was an undercurrent of insecurity that he hoped you didn't pick up. You had started to mean more to him than he had anticipated, him growing more attached than he knew was safe for his own sanity. And he knew if he ever did lose you, he would never recover.

He searched your face for an answer, but you stayed deadly still.

Your mind was reeling. Was he serious? Your husband who prided himself in his strength, his agility, his knowledge, the dragon he rode, was jealous? 

You felt tongue tied, surprised by the raw emotions etched on his handsome face. And you took too long to answer him.

Aemond turned suddenly, storming away from you. His heart had sunk at your silence, an aching feeling almost swallowing him whole. 

He didn't know what you saw when you looked at him. What you felt. All he knew was that he was not enough. And could he blame her?

All he was, was a one-eyed prince, scarred and angry. He was good at battles, great at wielding his sword, but terrible at matters of the heart. 

And what had he expected? That a woman as passionate and lovely as you would be able to care for such a passionless man like him? He had been foolish, allowing himself to hope for something he would never be able to have.

He wouldn’t show how hurt he was, his pride didn’t allow it. So he sped up, walking out into the courtyard and getting atop of his horse.

But your silence rang in his ears, your expression burned into his memory when he asked you if he was good enough for you, cornfirming what he had believed for all those moons.

He simply was not good enough for you. 

~

He hadn’t returned to you that night, something that had made you incredibly nervous. You had asked maids and servants alike where he had gone, only to get the same answer each time. He had gone out on Vhagar, riding his dragon Gods knew where. 

You barely slept, dawn slowly cresting while you had barely gotten any sleep. He had apparently returned in the early mornings, and now he was stuck in a small council meeting.

You weren’t allowed to enter while he was inside, you knew that. But the wait was agonising.

Hours passed, you waiting in the hallway for the doors to open again. And when they finally did, you saw him again.

But he didn’t look at you. He just stepped out, brushing past you. 

~

Evening fell, and after an entire day of avoiding you, he knew he couldn’t any longer. He slowly made his way back to your bedchambers, letting out a breath of relief when he saw you weren't there yet.

He poured his wine with a slightly unsteady hand, feeling exhaustion creep up on him after not sleeping for an entire night. As he sat down and stared at the lit fire, the memories flooded back to him. What had that boy even said to you that had made you smile so carefree? And why wasn't he able to make you smile like that?

It felt like there was a knife twisting in his stomach, the feeling of inadequateness washing over him. And when you finally entered, beautiful as you always did, he felt anger and insecurity welling up inside him once more. 

You closed the door behind you softly, before walking over to him. “I..” you started, trailing off again which nearly made him burst. But he kept quiet, with a lot of effort. “I was talking to the kitchen boy, because he’s a new servant.” You explained firstly. “He told a joke, which is why I laughed.” You explained to him further, searching his lone eye.

His fist clenched as he listened to you, forcing himself to remain calm and silent.

A joke? A simple joke? His mouth twisted in a sneer, his jaw clenching. Your explanation did little to soothe him. 

He finally met your eye, seeing the pleading and almost desperate look you were giving him. And then the realisation hit him. Had you truly not realised how your actions had hurt him, hit him where he was most insecure?

He had opened up his heart to you, did everything he could to be the man you wanted, you deserved, only for you to hurt him in this way. 

“A joke,” he said finally, his voice a mocking tone. "And do you share your jokes freely with all the serving boys, wife, or only this one who so tickle your fancy? I see now how little you value the bond we share." His eye bored into her, accusation and agony mingling within its depths.

Your eyes widened at his accusation, barely believing what you were hearing. 

“Stop it,” you said harshly, moving to stand in front of him. “Stop being a jealous fool, you… you foolish man.”

Aemond paused at your tone, totally caught off guard. He stared at you in surprise, never having heard you talk in such a way to… anyone, really. 

“Foolish? He replied, his own voice raising as he stood up. “I have opened my heart up to you, and this is how you repay me? To make a mockery out of me?” His eye stared into yours, his expression half angry and half impressed by the way you were standing your ground. He wasn’t sure why he had expected submission from you, but he was silently awfully pleased at the way you were staring at him with steel in your gaze. 

A smile ghosted across his lips.

“He was barely six and ten years of age.” You hissed angrily. “He was asking if the new dish he made was appreciated by the family and after, he made a joke. You must be truly foolish if you believe such a scrawny boy has my interest when I am married to a Targaryen prince.” 

Aemond’s eye never left yours as you hissed angrily at him, not ready to back down yet. But your words did sober him up a bit.

Truly, what was a mere, skinny kitchen servant to a man like him--a prince, a dragonrider?

He regarded you for a long moment, a small seed of shame taking root in his jealousy. You were still staring at him, not backing down. You truly were a fierce one, a true dragon’s wife. 

Finally, he sighed, shifting on his feet. “I see,” he murmured. “It seems I owe you an apology for the way I acted. You have proven your innocence… this night, at least.”

You listened almost in disbelief at what he was saying, clearly still trying to push the blame on you, acting as if he still couldn't truly trust you.

So you sighed deeply, tugging at his tunic and kissing him deeply. 

Aemond was caught off guard for just a moment, his eye widening at your boldness. But he recovered, kissing you back just as eagerly. Just a day he had ignored you, and it truly had been torture.

He kissed you like a man starved, clinging onto you as if he was terrified you would disappear. He growled softly, tugging you closer against him and only pulling back from the kiss when he needed air. He rested his forehead against yours, his eye closed as he simply relished holding you close again. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” he breathed out, a shaky smile forming on his lips. You smiled back at him, your heart pounding.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, “only you. I always have and I always will, until I take my last breath.”

He growled softly, clearly not happy with the thought of you passing away. He held you closer, his hands holding you tight. 

“Let me show you,” you whispered. You slowly pushed him back towards the bed, Aemond falling backwards onto the soft mattress. You climbed on top of his lap, his dark gaze watching your every move. 

You slid your hands over his chest, untying the laces of his tunic. 

“Wife…” he said lowly as you touched his bare chest, “what are you doing?”

A soft smile formed on your lips, completely tugging his tunic off. “I’m showing you,” you whispered, before leaning in to press wet kisses against his throat.

He groaned, his large hands grabbing your hips when you started grinding down on him.

He moaned your name, his head falling back against the pillow as you continued to grind on him, his cock growing hard inside of his breeches. 

He wanted you, Gods he wanted you. But he didn’t flip you around. No, he allowed you to set the pace, to show him exactly what you wanted to show him. To please him exactly the way you wanted to.

And you did.

Riding him with a need that bordered on feverish. All he could do was grab at your hips and breasts, watching as you looked like an angel while bouncing on his cock. He came once, twice, three times when you finally collapsed exhausted on his chest, your legs giving out on you.

But you were magnificent. He pulled you close to him, your soft pants filling his ears. 

“Does this…” you panted out, “prove my devotion?”

Aemond blinked sluggishly at you, the man three seconds away from falling asleep. His mind felt foggy, his body heavy yet in heaven at the same time. 

“I love you,” he said finally, all his earlier jealousies and insecurities gone. 

You fell silent, your heart jumping. He pulled you closer, tugging a duvet over the both of you. And then he fell asleep.

“You foolish man,” you whispered softly, nuzzling closer to your husband.“My foolish man.”

[fish189]

dare i say ur my fav Helaena writer

YAY THANK U RAAAAAH

[fish189]

Lady in waiting

Helaena Targaryen x lady in waiting!Reader x Aegon Targaryen

Summary: You are Helaena's lady in waiting, and during the years, she grows closer and closer to you. Aegon notices the way his wife looks at you, and makes a bold decision.

Content warnings: this fic HEAVILY centers Helaena x reader, kissing, PiV, targcest (Helaena x Aegon), flirting, thigh riding, titty sucking, pussy rubbing, creampie, praise kink!!!!!!!!, threesome

Note: love her sm honestly. and aegon? he's there.......i guess......

3.2K

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Princess Helaena didn’t have too many ladies in waiting. She hated when people she barely knew hovered around her, making her feel like every move she made was being watched. She preferred to be alone, in her bedchamber, doing the things she loved. She would spend her day embroidering, looking at the insects she had found, and sometimes she would even paint. 

Though she liked being alone, there was one lady in waiting she liked.

You. 

From a distant House, loyal to the crown and connected to King’s Landing through distant family, you became Helaena’s lady in waiting. You were just two years older than her, being by her side as a quiet companion.

Sometimes she would speak in riddles to you, to which you listened and nodded quietly. But most times, you just silently sat in her chamber, allowing her to do her own thing. She would speak to you if she wanted to, which sometimes wasn’t at all. 

Married to her older brother Aegon at just three and ten, you also knew him quite well. Being the same age as him, he tried getting closer to you many times. But you always stayed loyal to your princess, something she quietly appreciated a lot. 

As you grew up alongside her and her brother-husband, she grew closer and closer to you. She talked more often, invited you to join her on walks, showing you the critters she had found in the garden with a bright smile. 

It was nice. It felt like she finally had a friend that accepted her for who she was. 

She would come to you after her husband had drunkenly taken her, only allowing you to wash her. And you, in turn, was the one supporting her through her two pregnancies. 

You helped her at every turn, helping her dress and bathe and getting her the cakes she was constantly craving.

And every single time her face would light up, it meant the world to you. 

You watched fondly as she ate, her free hand pressed against her swollen stomach.

“This is the final dragon, I hope,” she told you, you nodding slowly. 

“Another perfect dragon for you to adore,” you replied, one of your hands tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. You smiled softly when you saw she was wearing the earrings you had gifted her.

“It is a boy,” she told you, her confidence in the gender obvious in the way she spoke. You pressed a hand on her stomach as well. 

“You haven’t been wrong before.”

“I have not,” Helaena said to you, “I know it is a boy. Maelor.”

You just nodded again, more focused on your princess than on any future baby names. 

“A lovely name, princess,” you agreed with her, your eyes meeting hers. Helaena just nodded, glad to have your approval.

“I dreamt of him,” she explained further, “a strong boy. I believe he will be much like me.”

“I hope so,” you admitted softly, “though no one is as lovely as you, princess.”

She fell silent then, and blushed. 

-------

Six years later, Helaena didn’t have any more children. And she was quite content. She had three beautiful children she raised well, and a lady in waiting close to her that she adored so much.

In those six years, Helaena would barely be seen without you with her. If it wouldn’t be far too inappropriate, she would even prefer it if you slept by her side. Just to hold her close, of course, nothing else. Doing anything else with you… heavens forbid.

She flushed heavily, fanning herself.

You looked up at her, your head tilting a bit. “Is everything alright princess?” you asked softly, sweetly. Helaena shook her head, waving your concerns off. She mumbled something you didn’t understand, looking at the blush pink dress you were wearing. It looked lovely on you, she thought. She was lost in thought for a moment, remembering the diamond necklace she had. It would look wonderful with the dress you were wearing.

Both of you looked up when Aegon entered, her husband halting and looking around the chamber.

“Where are the children?” he asked Helaena, not seeing them playing. But Helaena stayed silent, looking back at her embroidery.

“They are outside,” you told the prince, standing up and walking over to the window. He followed, standing beside you and looking out. 

And there they were, all three, playing outside in the gardens. He wanted to complain, but he saw their maids sitting close by, and three knights clearly guarding them. So he couldn’t.

“I see,” he murmured, turning his face so he could look at you for a moment. 

“And what are you doing? Surely the day is too nice to be sitting here inside… embroidering?” he nearly purred, leaning closer. “Perhaps we could… find something else to do.”

You swallowed heavily, looking back at Helaena. “I only wish to accompany my princess,” you said softly, looking back at Aegon. 

He knew how loyal you were to his wife, always somewhere around her.

His eyes glinted as he got an idea.

“Of course,” he just said, leaning closer so his lips were next to your ear. “You are a very loyal submissive indeed.”

You felt his teeth nip your earlobe, your skin heating up. He smirked, turning to exit the chamber.

Helaena looked back at you, a confused look swimming in her purple eyes. You just shook your head. 

“Do not worry, my princess,” you said sweetly, walking to her and holding her hands. They were warm in yours, and she allowed you to hold them. 

“I believe your brother has… ideas.”

You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, before ringing the bell to have her tea refreshed. 

-----

You always arrived at your princess’ chamber when she had gotten ready for bed. You would read to her, or you would simply talk. Aegon knew this. He knew this as he rushed to Helaena’s chamber, knowing you wouldn’t be there just yet. 

He opened the door, Helaena seated in her bed and her head snapping towards the direction of the door. She slumped back down against her pillows when she realised it was Aegon and not you.

Aegon slowly closed the door behind him, stalking towards her.

“What do you want?” she asked him, not looking at him. Her hands trailed over the spine of the book you were reading to her, the texture soothing her a bit. 

“So hostile,” Aegon replied, kicking his boots off and crawling onto the bed towards her. “You are still my wife, are you not?”

He pressed his lips against hers, the feeling of her familiar and soft. He groaned softly, nipping her bottom lip. She sighed softly, Aegon tugging the blankets a bit further down.

He paused.

“What is this?” he asked her, seeing her in a lavish nightgown he had never seen before. “You wear this to bed?”

Helaena blushed, turning her head away. “I needed new ones,” she murmured, not meeting his eye.

“Needed new ones? This… extravagant?” He looked at her for a long moment, before a smile formed on her lips. 

“Did you wear this for a certain lady?” he asked lowly, Helaena’s eyes widening as she looked at him. 

“N-no-!” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I-I wouldn’t do such a thing!”

But Aegon’s smirk never faltered, the man leaning his head down and pressing sloppy kisses to her throat and collarbone.

“If you want her,” he mumbled, “then have her.”

Helaena moaned at his words, his words putting far too many images into her head. Aegon laughed at the response she gave him, his sister’s attraction to you far too obvious. 

“I’d like her too…” he murmured, slipping her nightgown down her shoulders and freeing her breasts. “Perhaps we can make a little arrangement?”

He ducked his head, pressing kisses to her breasts and sucking softly on her nipples. 

And then you entered, exactly at the same time you always did. And you froze.

A soft gasp made them both look up, you quickly turning your back towards them.

“I am sorry!” you said quickly, your entire body feeling like it was one fire. “I didn’t… I-I should have knocked-”

You wanted to leave, but Aegon’s voice commanded you to stay. 

You slowly turned, barely daring to peek at your princess in such a state of undress. 

Aegon smiled lazily, not even bothering to hide his arousal from you. 

“Yes, my prince?” you asked weakly, your eyes finding Helaena’s own wide ones. She didn’t cover up, Aegon proudly keeping her nightgown pulled down. Her hair was undone, as it always was when you came to visit her, but it was more unruly this time. Your eyes finally drifted down a bit more, taking in her exposed breasts, her pink nipples glistening a bit--probably from her husband’s attentions. 

“I can tell my wife likes you very much,” Aegon said, making your eyes snap into his direction. “And you like her too, don't you?”

You stayed silent, your voice caught in your throat. Aegon moved his hand, cupping Helaena’s bare breast more firmly. 

“It’s okay,” he said again, smiling when he noticed your eyes drifting to where he was touching Helaena, “she is quite something.”

You could only look at the way Helaena was staring at you--her eyes slightly lidded, her lips parted. You swallowed heavily again, unable to look away.

“And there is nothing I like more than not one, but two gorgeous ladies in my bed.”

You looked back at the prince, his implications hanging clear in the air. You looked at Helaena again, noticing almost a pleading look in her eyes.

You knew you couldn’t say no. Not only because the prince wasn’t asking, but commanding, but also because you knew you couldn’t let your princess down. 

And deep down you knew you could never be with her otherwise.

“If the princess wishes it…” you said softly, looking between the siblings, lingering on Helaena.

Helaena just nodded slowly, causing a bright grin to spread on Aegon’s lips. 

“Good wife,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. Then, he looked back at you, one of his hands now resting on his arousal.

“Undress,” he ordered you, watching expectantly. You did as the prince ordered, though you didn’t look at him. As you undid the laces of your gown, you only looked at your princess, who was watching intently.

The fabric loosened before sliding down your body and pooling around your feet.

Aegon purred, standing up and walking towards you. “Beautiful,” he mumbled, his hands sliding over the thin shift covering your skin, before he tugged on it.

“Undress, girl. Completely,” he ordered a bit more sternly. He walked over to a small table to the side, grabbing himself a glass of wine and downing it almost fully.

He stared as you bared yourself to the prince and princess, goosebumps rising on your skin. You looked back at Helaena, seeing her stare at you the same way she looked at her favourite butterfly.

“Princess,” you whispered softly, a moan almost escaping her. Aegon watched the both of you, finishing his wine before pouring himself another glass.

“Well?” Aegon said, “Go to your princess.”

Your legs moved before you could even register his words. You walked to the plush bed, slowly crawling towards the princess on it. “Helaena,” you whispered, your hands hovering above her waist for a moment. 

You felt conflicted. You wanted to make your princess feel good, validated, loved. But this almost felt like a perverted show for her husband. 

“Talk to me, sweet girl,” you said again, loud enough so only she could hear. Helaena looked down at your lips for a split second, something that caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“Do you want this, too?” you asked again, deciding to settle for just touching her soft hair. Helaena nodded after a moment, causing a small smile to form on your lips. You leaned closer, feeling a bit bolder.

“Do you want… me?” Helaena’s heart stuttered at your words, her lower lip now caught between her teeth. 

“I do,” she whispered, and you kissed her immediately. One of your hands tangled in her long hair, pulling her closer, the other moving towards her waist. 

She tasted sweet, innocent in a way. She almost seemed to drown in your deep kisses, overwhelmed by the affection. You helped her slide the nightgown off, pressing kisses down her sternum, moving to her stomach.

“Beautiful,” you breathed out, seeing a flush appear on her cheeks. “Did you wear this for me?”

Helaena just nodded breathlessly, your words and praises made her feel dizzy in the best way. 

“I feel honoured,” you mumbled, crawling back up her body and pressing another kiss to her lips. You lost yourself in her, feeling her impossibly soft skin, her soft hair, hearing her soft sighs and moans. You loved her. Your princess.

You both parted when you heard someone clearing their throat, both of you remembering Aegon was still here. 

You sat back on your heels, Helaena unable to even look away from you as you looked at the prince. 

“Quite a display,” he said, clearly a bit intoxicated already. He slowly sauntered over to the bed as well, kicking off his breeches and smallclothes. You watched the prince undress, feeling Helaena’s hand grasp yours. 

She wanted to kiss you again, wanted to feel your hands on her skin. And mostly, she wanted to hear you praise her more. Aegon never praised her during…

She softly whined your name, causing you and Aegon both to look at her. Aegon smiled at his wife’s eagerness, finding it quite… cute in a way. And arousing.

You moved closer to her again, Helaena whimpering until you kissed her again. Your arms slid around her, Helaena moving one of her legs astride of your thighs. 

She was so wet, you could feel it against your skin. You let out a shaky breath, your hands squeezing her waist. “My princess,” you moaned out, adjusting so she could press herself harder against you. Helaena whimpered again, slowly grinding against your thigh now.

“That’s it,” you encouraged her, “that’s a good girl.”

Aegon slowly moved closer, watching the way his wife was grinding so eagerly--so wantonly--against her precious lady in waiting. 

He settled behind her, pressing kisses along her neck and shoulderblade. Helaena mewled out, overwhelmed by the sensations. 

Aegon grabbed her waist and pulled her off of you, placing her on her back. He kissed her, a lot less gentle and sweet than you had. You squeezed her hand, a silent way to still claim her.

He grabbed the base of his cock, teasing her for just a moment before pressing inside of her. He groaned, bottoming out and pressing his face in the crook of her neck.

“Soaked,” he mumbled into her skin, you moving to lie closer to her. You tilted her face towards you, pressing a kiss to her lips. She sighed into it, gasping when you grabbed one of her breasts. 

“My princess,” you whispered again, “looking so beautiful while drowning in pleasure.” 

You pinched her nipple, sliding your tongue between her lips when she moaned again. Aegon started moving inside of her, lost in his own little world. 

“Oh-” Helaena moaned out, finally finding her voice, “I-it feels… I feel so…” you kissed her again, sliding your hand down her stomach until you found the soft thatch of white curls. 

“Tell me,” you whispered to her, your fingers sinking lower until you found her clit. 

“Ah-!” she gasped out, her back arching, Aegon groaning out when she got tighter. “I feel… I feel so-so much-”

You trailed your kisses down her throat, your own hips bucking against nothing as you grew more and more desperate yourself. 

“Please,” Helaena managed to moan out, “please… more…”

You and Aegon moved in sync, him speeding up, your fingers rubbing even tighter circles against her clit. 

“Come for me,” you said against her lips, your eyes staring right into hers. “Come for me, princess.” 

She just whimpered the knot inside of her growing tighter and tighter and…

You leaned your head down to suckle on her nipple, Helaena’s hand tightening around yours, her other hand on Aegon’s shoulder, her nails digging into his skin.

“Fuuuck-” the prince moaned, stilling deep inside of her as he came hard, his cum flooding her insides.

Helaena moaned loudly, clenching tightly around him as she came. Her back arched prettily, the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes rolling down her cheeks. 

And she looked gorgeous.

You watched intently as she came, wanting to burn the image into your eyes. Your fingers slowed on her pearl before completely withdrawing, Helaena whining and whimpering.

You held her close, muttering soothing words and praises as Aegon pulled out, the prince mumbling something before moving off the bed.

Helaena buried her face in the crook of your neck, and you held her close. 

“My beautiful princess,” you breathed out, littering kisses on the top of her head. “You did so well. Took all we gave so perfectly.”

Helaena took her time coming down from her high, breathing in your soothing scent. It frightened her, how much she needed you. How much she truly cared for you. Her own lady, her best friend. 

“Don’t leave,” she whispered finally, looking into your eyes with her own lidded gaze. “I couldn’t bear it if you left now.”

You smiled sweetly, kissing the tip of her nose. “I wouldn't dream of it,” you replied, soothing her nerves. Helaena smiled in return, nuzzling back into your arms. She knew she shouldn't feel this way about you, but she couldn't help herself. She didn't want to. It had felt so right, so perfect. 

You kissed her again, softer this time. 

“Allow me to clean you up,” you said softly, gently removing yourself from her embrace. You looked between her legs, seeing the mess Aegon had left. You quickly set a mental reminder to bring her moontea in the morning. Just in case. 

You returned after a short moment, carrying a soft cloth damp with lukewarm water. You tapped her thigh, and she parted her thighs instinctively, baring herself fully to you. She had no shame, not now, not with you. Only a profound sense of trust, of belonging.

“Good girl,” you praised her again, making her flush and smile lazily. 

“Thank you,” she murmured when you placed the cloth down after cleaning her, her arms opening up so you could cuddle her again. “For joining this eve. For… for making me feel so amazing.”

You cuddled her close, this time your princess capturing your lips. 

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” you whispered, leaning closer, “even without the prince.”

Helaena giggled, nuzzling closer when Aegon entered again. He had freshened himself up, clearly ready to sleep.

“What are you birds giggling about?” he asked, slipping underneath the bed sheets. He watched you both with lidded eyes, smiling when he heard his wife laughing so happily. It had been a long time since he had seen her this pleased.

“None of your concern, brother,” Helaena hummed, sighing contently as she buried herself in your embrace. She felt Aegon nuzzle against her back, her husband pressing a soft kiss to her shoulderblade. He was already drifting off, both of you not focused on his presence, too focused on each other. 

“Just us,” Helaena whispered to you, kissing your cheek.

“Next time just us.”

[fish189]

can u give us some tips regarding writing? do u have a routine?

owwww honestly i really dont have a routine i just kinda get an idea in my head and try to work it out the best i can in writing. and tips???? definitely a lot of practice i guess? im not saying my writing is perfect but try and write a little every day and read books and it'll get easier/you'll improve

[fish189]

any soon updates on bug?

workin on itttttt

[fish189]

dutiful evenings

Aemond Targaryen x Arryn wife!Reader

Summary: after drifting apart suddenly, you started hating your husband. now bound only by duty, he must bed you until you fall pregnant with his child. but feeling are difficult and unpredictable, and all consuming.

Warnings: arguing over nothing, PinV, unprotected sex (this is fiction, use protection), enemies to lovers (?), table sex, bathtub sex, tiddy sucking and pinching, fingering, groping, creampiessssssssss, bit of dirty talk, idk i prob missing some things

4.7K

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You and Aemond’s wedding had been grand. Married to an Arryn, a great ally and an even prettier lady. He did his duty, as expected, but he supposed your loveliness did help.

But just three weeks after the wedding, Aemond started pulling back. He would claim he was too busy for you, that training and studying and matters of state were taking up all of his time. But when you saw him sometimes just walking around the Red Keep, or sitting in the library reading a book you knew he had finished before, things started going downhill.

You had commented on it, which in turn made him defensive. 

“Why can’t you just spend one night with me?” you had complained. Aemond just shook his head, sighing as if you had said one of the stupidest things he had ever heard. 

“You married a prince of the realm,” he replied coolly, “you must realise that I am a busy man.”

Argument after argument followed, completely tearing you two apart. You moved into separate bedchambers, avoiding him for an entire week when your septa calmly reminded you of your duties.

So you found yourself face to face with your husband again, making up rules so you could become with child. You would try for a babe, in the best case scenario every single evening. During the week both of you could deny the other once, some sort of veto. 

It was crude in a way, having to make these rules together just so you could become pregnant, but it was important. He needed--wanted--an heir. And it was your duty to give him one. 

At least you didn't need to be near him afterwards.

Dinner that evening was awfully quiet again. You were both seated at the grand table, almost a comical distance between you two. You ate silently, gritting your teeth when you heard his knife scrape obnoxiously loud against his plate. You looked up to stare at him, his lone gaze focused on cutting the meat on his plate. 

“Well? You won’t even talk to me this eve?” you said annoyed, finally breaking the heavy silence between you both.

Aemond sighed deeply, glancing up at you from his meal. “What is there to discuss?” he asked drily, setting his cutlery back down. “The weather? The state of the realm? We have already exhausted all of these… pleasant topics already.” 

His words were sarcastic, more barbed than he probably intended. He was growing tired of the bickering, of having the same argument every single night. Yet he never backed down. 

You scoff, looking into your husband’s eye. “Have we already?” you replied, “Funny, I do not recall you even speaking to me today.”

There was a challenge in your eyes, a clear invitation for him to dare rebuke you. Aemond was quiet for a moment, taking a sip of his wine. He clearly needed it to steady himself.

He finally looked back at you, regarding you with his one eye. “You know my duties keep me busy during the day,” he replied, his finger tracing the rim of his cup. 

“What would you have me do? Hover over your shoulder from dawn to dusk? I think you have made your desire for space abundantly clear.”

His voice was steady, confident. Though inwards, he sometimes wondered if distance was truly what you desired. He remembered the honeymoon as if it was yesterday, remembered the way you had smiled at him.

One look at you made reality crash down on him. His marriage was proving more difficult than tactics of war, but his pride would never allow him to show any weakness in front of you. Especially now, when you were acting up again.

Your eyes had narrowed at his words, anger bubbling hot and ugly inside of you.

“Have I really?” you replied to him, your chair scraping loudly when you stood up. You walked over to where he was sitting, his eye following your every move with caution. “Because I remember it very differently,” you spoke as you walked. 

“I believe it was you who shrugged me off a mere three weeks after our wedding, avoiding me as if I were a disease.” 

You stood in front of him, glaring daggers. “Don't you dare blame me.”

Aemond met your glare boldly, even though he felt a bit of unease at the truth of your words. He had started avoiding you, your touch stirring up things in him he had never felt before, and it had shaken him to the core. He took a deep breath.

“I did what I thought best at the time,” he replied calmly, “married you out of duty instead of desire, as is the lot of our kind-”

“So you do not desire me?” you said, cutting his words off. “Is that what you are saying?”

He stared at you, his frustration mounting. “You know that is not what I meant,” he almost hissed,” I am saying that desire and duty are two different things, as you surely must know.”

His anger was bubbling just beneath the surface, his fiery gaze meeting yours.

“All I wanted to do was fulfill my duties to my house,” he started, working hard to keep his voice measured. “Yet every single word coming from you is picking me apart-- criticising my every move, acting as if everything I do is to wrong you personally.”

He stood up himself, towering over you. “Do you despise me so? Or only wish to?”

You stared up at him, seeing the fire in his one eye. “I have tried my best to be a good husband to you,” he murmured, “to understand you, to listen to you-”

You just laughed drily, shaking your head. “Understand me? You have never tried to understand me.”

You didn’t back away, jotting a finger into the leather of his tunic. “You,” you hissed, “are what ruined this union.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, grabbing your wrist tightly in his hand. His patience was coming to an end. 

“Don’t you dare…” he warned you. “From the moment we wed, you have done nothing but scorn me. Nothing is ever good for you, is it? Not even the title of princess.”

“It was never about the title for me-!” you tried to retaliate, but his voice was already raising.

“I should have known a lady like you would never be pleased. I am still your prince, and you will show me respect.”

He tightened his hold on your wrist, his face hovering inches from yours. A heavy silence fell between the both of you, only the crackling of the fire being heard. 

You swallowed heavily as you stared up at him. You wanted to stay angry, to shout more at him, but you didn’t. 

“So you wish to veto this night?” you said simply, your gaze meeting his. You saw his one eye widen almost imperceptibly, the reminder of your duties almost making the rage draining away, making space for something else. 

Beneath the anger and frustration, he still felt a spark of… attraction for his wife in name alone. He stared at you for a moment, noticing your pulse fluttering rapidly at the base of your throat.

He let go of your wrist, instead tilting your face up towards his. 

“No,” he said, “I do not. Do you, however, wish to deny me again?”

Your eyes narrow at his fighting words, him clearly trying to get a rise out of you. You almost bite, wanting to say you haven’t denied him in a week’s time. But actions speak louder than words. 

You tug him closer by his tunic, smashing your lips against his. Aemond recovered quickly, kissing you back just as fiercely. His hands grab at your waist, pressing you back against the dining table and sending dishes clattering everywhere. 

His lips move down to your throat, kissing and licking and biting. He savors your taste, your moans, his hands eagerly tugging up the seemingly hundred layers of your skirts. 

His hands found your soft thighs, grazing and squeezing the skin. He paused for a moment, taking in your dilated pupils, the way your lips were parted. 

“What?” you hissed out when he stopped for a split second, making him growl in annoyance at your bratty tone. 

He moved quicker now, lifting your skirts fully up and pressing you further down onto the table. The moment he started spreading your thighs wide for him and fumbling with his belt, the servants started scattering out of the dining hall. Both of your knights closed the heavy doors of the dining hall to give you both some privacy, looking awkwardly away as they kept hearing moans and more plates falling down. 

Aemond kissed you again, silencing any further snide comments you may wished to say. He had no more patience for arguments tonight, not when your thighs were spread for him and he could see how the fabric of your smallclothes were soaked. 

Both you and Aemond hadn’t noticed the servants fleeing the scene, both of you too focused on Aemond slipping his fingers down and pushing your underwear to the side. 

“You’re awfully wet for an angry woman, princess..” he purred, making you glare at him.

“You talk too much for a man in front of a soaked cunt, my prince-” you retaliated, making him angrily shove his breeches down. He stroked himself twice, then slid inside of your heat.

Your head fell back, the stretch making you moan and gasp. Aemond hissed when he finally bottomed out in your slick heat, his lips and teeth finding the tops of your breasts peeking out from your gown. 

He moved slowly at first, pulling out until just his tip was left inside of you, before slamming back in. Every single moan that left your lips inflated his ego, made him feel like the most powerful man in the realm. 

He grabbed tighter onto your hips, his pace speeding up until he was hammering into you. The wooden table creaked under you, the spilled wine staining the expensive fabric of your dress, but all you could focus on was him.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him down for another deep, sloppy kiss. “More,” you managed to pant out, Aemond’s lone eye boring into yours. 

He leaned in for another deep kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth and sliding it against yours. He didn't say anything, just starting to fuck harder into you. He made you suck on two of his fingers, his eye watching eagerly as your cheeks hollowed wantonly around them. 

He removed them with a pop, then slid the wet digits between your legs, rubbing harsh circles on your clit. You whined, your thighs started to shake and your hold on him tightening. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the dining room, his wet fingers against your cunt making obscene wet noises. Aemond groaned against your throat, his cock slamming into you. 

Your moans grew higher in pitch, until finally, you came with a cry of his name. Aemond groaned deeply, his hips stilling deep inside you as he came. 

You pant heavily, your eyes opening after a moment to see him already looking at you. He leaned down for a soft kiss, and you answered it slowly. It was soft, gentle, almost a glimpse into what could be, when you suddenly pulled your head back. 

“Get off,” you said, eyes no longer meeting his. Aemond rolled his eyes, pulling his member out of you and straightening out his clothing. He watched you get off the table, a slight limp in your step which filled him with pride. He watched you straighten your dress out, not bothering to help.

“I will see you tomorrow eve,” you said dismissively, “maybe.” 

And then you left the dining hall.

Aemond stared at your retreating figure, his earlier irritation flaring up again. Gods, you were insufferable. What man could endure such a wife without seeking pleasures elsewhere? Easy ones, silent ones.

He let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head as he poured himself a cup of wine. Annoying as you were, you were still his wife. And he was not his brother.

He was loyal. A dragon. And he would keep his vows, difficult as you may be.

------

More days passed like this between you. Never talking during the day, and when you did, it was the usual bickering and complaining. In the evenings you would have each other, preferably anywhere but in bed. You couldn't even remember the last time you two had slept together in bed--probably before you started drifting apart. 

It was already late, and your husband had missed dinner. You had been irritated, to say the least, but decided not to make a big deal out of it. You had a nice dinner alone, now actually having the time to enjoy the food.

Afterwards, you went to your bedchamber, undressing for the day.

“Where is he?” you asked your maid, the woman looking up. 

“In his chambers, I believe, princess,” she replied, helping you undo the tight dress.

You just hummed, undressing completely before covering your now exposed skin with a cloak.

You just nodded once to your maid, before exiting the chamber and walking towards his.

You entered without knocking, walking through his larger chamber to where he was bathing. His eye was closed, his eyepatch removed. 

“It is evening,” you said simply, the servant that had been readying his soaps nearly tripping over himself as he ran out. 

Aemond’s one eye opened as you dropped your cloak to the floor, his gaze taking in your nudity. 

“So it is,” he just murmured, watching as you stepped into the warm water, joining him. Silently he made more room for you, his hands finding your waist when you settled on top of him. 

His eye was lidded as he watched you, your skin soft underneath his fingertips. You looked at him, too, noticing the tired look in his eyes. 

You wanted to ask him about his day, about the hardships and the struggles that had seemingly made him so tired, but your voice caught in your throat.

So you just leaned in, kissing him deeply. 

He met the kiss eagerly, his arms moving to encircle your waist. He pulled you closer, feeling the greediness in your kisses, your touches. The way your hands moved over his chest made him groan, water spilling out of the bathtub with your eager movements.

He easily lifted you up, positioning you above his heavy cock before thrusting up. You moaned at the stretch, both of you sitting still in the warm water. 

He looked up at your face, a proud grin spreading on his lips when he saw the sheer bliss on your face. And then he started moving.

He slowly thrust up, reaching all sorts of spots inside of you. You mewled softly, grinding down on his cock with eager movements. 

You looked perfect like this. 

He leaned his head down, eagerly taking one of your nipples into his mouth. His teeth grazed over one, and he swore he could feel you clench around his cock. 

You rested your forehead against his, an electric feeling passing between you. 

“Aemond,” you whispered, him just responding with a deep kiss. He held you close, thrusting harder into you, his bath nearly half empty now. He lifted a hand to squeeze your breast, pinching a nipple between his forefinger and thumb.

“You get tighter when I do this,” he purred against your lips, and for once, you didn't have a sharp reply. You just moaned eagerly, starting to bounce harder on him.

“Wanna come,” you managed to pant out, and he immediately listened, moving his other hand between your legs.  

He looked right into your eyes, not wanting to miss the bliss that would soon contort your face. He loved seeing you come, the sight of your pleasure making you look even more beautiful to him. 

“Come,” he commanded against your lips, and his tone made you topple right over the edge. 

He groaned deeply when he felt your wet, velvet walls clench around his cock, his own release hitting him like a brick. He thrust a final time into you, before his thick cum coated your insides. 

“Fuck-” he gasped, your name leaving his lips like a prayer. He held you close as both of you came down from your high, the sloshing water slowly calming down around you.

And then there was a pleasant silence.

His arms wrapped back around your waist, keeping you close to him. And you rested against him, head buried in the crook of his neck. 

His fingers traced random figures on your back, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be with you like this all the time. You fitted so perfectly in his arms, your body molding against his.

There were no cutting words, no barbed insults, just… tranquility. 

You lifted your head up, your tired eyes meeting his. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a second too long. 

Your eyes closed for a moment, before you gathered yourself. You moved off of him, feeling his soft cock slip out of you. You stood up in the bathtub, wobbling a bit before finding your footing and stepping out of the now cooled down water. You grabbed your cloak, not bothering to dry off. 

“I…” you start, trying to read his expression, but unable to. “I must go. Perhaps I will… perhaps I'll see you soon.”

And then you left quickly, a knot in your stomach. 

Aemond watched you leave, in no rush himself to exit the bath just yet. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he knew something in your heart had changed. The slightest crack in your tough exterior, the walls you had put up after his misdoings. 

And he smiled.

-------

The next two days between you had been… odd, to say the least. You didn't argue as often, but that was mostly because you had started avoiding him all together. That last night between you, the soft kiss he had placed on your forehead afterwards, the way he had held you close…

It was confusing. It made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t want it to. So the next two days had been vetoed. The first time by him, and the second time by you. And then the third day arrived.

You were still deeply asleep when your bedchamber door slammed open. You sat up groggily, eyes squinting against the morning light when you watched your husband storm in. you had never seen him in your bedchamber before, both of you sleeping in separate beds, but now…

“It is a new day,” he said, and before you could even register his words, he was already kissing you deeply. 

All morning Aemond had been restless, the two days of barely seeing each other, him not even touching you once had driven him crazy. 

He knew you both usually had your ‘duties’ planned in the evenings, but he couldn't wait. Not a second longer. 

He parted from the kiss just long enough to look at you for a moment, noticing the way the slivers of sunlight that peeked behind the curtain played along your skin. The way your cheeks were still flushed and warm from sleep and the way your lips were slightly parted. You had a dazed look in your eyes, and he groaned before kissing you again, and again, and again. 

His kisses were filled with passion and need, his tongue sliding against yours and his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. When he finally parted for air, he just stared at you.

“Say it,” he growled softly as his lips moved towards your throat, “say you want me. Say you need me.”

You were only able to moan, your hands sliding over his back, nails slightly digging into his skin.

“Say it,” he repeated as he pulled back to stare down at you, “admit you want this as much as I do, every waking moment. Just us--as the Gods intended.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, his claiming words making you anxious and aroused at the same time. 

So you didn't answer. 

“Undress,” you replied instead, and luckily he listened. You watched with eager eyes as he started undressing, taking his sweet time in teasing you. Inch by inch his skin was revealed, a smirk playing on his lips at the way you stared at him. When he was finally naked, his arousal already hard and heavy, he stared hungrily at your form dressed in only a thin nightshift.

He helped you out of it, drinking in every inch of skin now revealed. 

And you were divine.

He threw the shift somewhere onto the floor, his gaze never leaving your body. He watched the way you were breathing heavily, your breasts rising and falling. He looked at your taut nipples, his hands moving on their own accord as they brushed over them. The softest mewl escaped you, making him pinch them for just a second before moving towards your abdomen.

Your skin was so soft, so warm from sleep, he had to press his lips against it. He pressed kisses around your navel, biting down on the soft flesh for a second.

“Say it,” he moaned again, moving back up your body until he was looking into your eyes. “I am yours, and yours alone.”

He pressed a kiss to your lips, one you reciprocated eagerly. Your hands slid into his long hair, making him grind his cock against your thigh. 

“Say you are mine, and nothing shall part us again.”

It all felt so different. 

Being in an actual bed, the fact that it was morning, it felt so… domestic. 

“Aemond-” you were barely able to whisper before his hands were on you again.  

He groaned at the way you moaned his name, his control slipping further and further. You would be the death of him, and he would die a happy man.

Your eyes closed as his hand slid in between your thighs, his fingers gathering your slick before pressing deep inside.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. He slid them out to wrap his hand around his own aching cock, stroking himself a few times.

“You are mine now,” he said lowly, his tip teasing your entrance. 

“Say it.”

“I’m yours!” you finally whine, your arms wrapping around his neck and your thighs around his waist. “I’m yours, only yours, please-”

Aemond just groaned at your words, sinking deep inside of you in one thrust. When he began to move, he made sure to set a slow, deep pace, wanting to savor every single little moment.

He gazed down at your face, watching the way your eyes were closing in pleasure, your lips glossy and parted from his eager kisses.

“Look at me,” he whispered again, his eye on yours when you opened them again.

He smiled, noticing the way your own lips curved up slightly as well.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, before expertly taking you over the edge with a few quick swipes of his thumb over your pearl. He groaned at the sensation, filling your womb up to the brim.

You were breathing heavily, your eyes lidded with pleasure and the lingering remnants of your sleep. You looked a mess, and he couldn’t get enough. 

He slowly pulled out, watching with a sense of pride as his cum dripped out of you.

“Mine,” he whispered, holding you close. You could feel yourself beginning to drift off again, his lips pressing against your cheek, then your forehead. 

You had never felt like this. This safe. This… loved. It was frightening. 

Sleep finally took you, your body growing heavy in his arms. He looked down fondly at you, the early morning light making you look like an angel. He felt your warmth against him, heard the gentle sound of your breathing. He had never felt the domesticity, the rightness, of having a person he cared for so much safe in his arms. 

But with you, it felt natural. It felt right. Like you were meant to be in his arms, now and always. And that thought sent a flicker of unease through him. He wasn't a man filled with tenderness, with gentleness, and yet… when he looked down at your sleeping face…

------

You wake up some hours later, alone. 

He had probably left to attend to his duties, yet you couldn't control the feeling of sadness overcoming you. You were supposed to be used to his lack of attention, should be thankful for it. But now, after what you had just shared… it felt wrong. 

After getting ready for the day with the help of your maids, you go through the same motions of your everyday life, not seeing him anywhere. Until dinner. 

He entered the dining hall after you were already seated, his gaze not meeting yours. He sat at his regular seat at the other end of the table, watching impassively as a servant filled up his wine cup. 

The memory of you clinging onto him was still fresh on his mind, but he was good at not showing it. He yearned to hold you again, to make love to you until your body grew tired and you fell asleep in his arms again. 

But things were still tense. And he didn't miss how you had struggled to say you were his, how he had to ask you time and time again just to say it.

It had been clear, he knew, that you weren’t his. Not really. 

No words were spoken during dinner. And when the last course had been eaten, he got up. His eye finally caught yours, and in that split second, he felt everything. 

He felt longing, and sadness, and love.

He nodded once, before exiting the dining hall in long strides. 

You watched him leave in silence, rooted to the chair you were sitting on. Your hands fidgeted with your cup, your lower lip caught between your teeth, until you finally decided to rush after him.

You lifted your skirts, almost running out of the grand dining hall to try and catch up with him. 

Only when you had rushed up the stairs, you saw him again. Aemond had halted when he heard light footsteps rushing towards him, turning to see you.

You were panting, clearly out of breath and something clearly bothering you.

He frowned, wondering if something had happened in the time he had left you alone, watching as you came to a halt in front of him.

Aemond reached out to touch your arm, his touch soft, sweet, gentle.

“What is it, my lady? You seem distraught.” he said gently, his brows furrowed.

“I love you,” you breathed out, your wide eyes staring into his. “I do not want rules and duties and obligations that tie our time together, I want you. I don’t want to argue, I don't want to sleep alone-”

You finally admitted the truth to him, your heart pounding. This was how you felt, the feeling overwhelming and consuming.

“I do not wish to hide it anymore. So if you truly despise me, tell me now and I shall never bother you again-”

You stared at your husband, trying to read his expression. You felt sick to your stomach, the silence stretching on and on.

Until he gently cupped your face in his warm hands, your name leaving his lips in a breathless whisper.

“You are my heart, the very blood in my veins,” he whispered against your lips, “and I could no sooner despise you than stop my own breath.” 

He leaned his forehead against yours, his single eye closing. “I am yours,” he said again, “forevermore.”

He leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to your lips. You let out a choked sob, your arms wrapping tightly around him, scared as if he may leave.

He held you even closer, pressing kisses against your temple and cheek. 

“I love you,” you whispered again. 

“And I you, more.”

[fish189]

I'm reading ur fic on ao3 of Helaena and it's amazing, ur writing is so good in it and i can't wait for the next ones!! i love wlw Helaena but unfortunately there isn't many at all especially her and on ao3 too :'(

thank you so much this honestly means a lot to me :'). i hope to get another chapter out soon and when i finish the story i'm def writing oneshots for her (only wlw) and maybe even Alicent teehee <3

[fish189]

letters

Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Summary: you are leaving for a month to visit your family. During your time away, you write letters to your husband, and he can't control his longing for you... or his need

Warnings: sappy Aemond, a bit of dirty talk I guess, nothing too bad

Note: short and filled with yearning again bevause tjat's who i am as a person ok

----------

You had been excited to see your family again. You hadn't seen them since your wedding to the prince, which had been a mere five moons ago. In that time, you had truly gotten to know Aemond, and had fallen in love with him.

But being parted from him… it would be difficult. From your part, at least. You had admitted the morning of your departure that you would miss him. He had just kissed your forehead, urging you to go. 

“You’ll see me in a moon’s time,” he’d said softly, “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“Write to me,” you begged him so sweetly, “as often as you can. Please.” 

He had nodded, pressing a final kiss to your hand before he urged you into the carriage. “I’l see you soon.”

But a moon was a long time, Aemond now realised. Only a week in and he was already missing your warmth beside him. He’d wake up, feeling the cold spot beside him in his bed. It was then and there he decided to write his first letter to you.

He got up from the far too large bed, putting on a robe and sitting down at the small writing desk tucked into the corner of the chamber. He grabbed a quill and some parchment, thinking for a moment about exactly what he would write to you. 

‘I miss you’, perhaps?

He cleared his throat. Did he miss you? Truly? Perhaps he did, but what kind of dragon prince would he be if he admitted to that?

He started writing, choosing his words carefully. 

‘My dear wife,

I apologise for not writing to you sooner. I have been quite busy, but I am sure you understand.’

He paused for a moment, imagining your face. You would forgive him, he realised. You were far too sweet for him. He imagined you using that kindness to the servants at the Keep that was your own home, and felt a flicker of jealousy. 

‘I have been keeping busy with the duties of the realm, but the hours are long and the work feels less fulfilling without you here to share a cup of wine and discuss the day's events with. I find myself wishing to hear your thoughts, your insights, your perspective on things.’

That much was true. He missed the way you would come visit him in his study at the end of the day, before dinner was served. You would offer him that sweet smile, walk closer to him and stand beside him, close enough so that he could smell your perfume. 

‘It has been but a week since your departure, and already your absence feels never-ending. I find myself missing your laughter, your smile, the way your eyes light up when you speak of things you love. I am not a man accustomed to longing, but here I am, longing for you.’

He paused for a moment, wondering if he was taking it too far, being too eager. But he was not lying. He missed you.

'In hopefully three more weeks, I get to gaze upon your smiling face again. I will be counting down the days. I hope you are enjoying your time at home, with your family. Please remember the home you have here with me, as well.

‘Your devoted husband,’

Aemond paused, looking at the word ‘devoted’. He could start over, he supposed, just write down ‘your husband’.

He looked at the letter you had sent him, reading the loving words over and over again.

No. He wouldn't rewrite the letter. He was devoted to you, and you were allowed to know. He cleared his throat again, writing the final words.

‘Aemond Targaryen. Son of the King of the Realm, Dragonprince of the Seven Kingdoms’

There. A little bragging wouldn't hurt.

He sealed the letter, barking an order at a servant boy to send it to you. 

And then he waited. 

-----

When you got the letter from your husband, you had snatched it from your maid and ran upstairs into your bedchamber. You carefully removed the seal, opened the parchment and started reading.

The biggest smile formed on your face when you read his words. Sure, his letter was a lot shorter than yours, but his words meant the world.

He was longing for you, actually longing. He had written it down himself, and you had read the letter six times already. 

He missed you, missed your thoughts and presence and very essence.

You laughed softly when you read the way he signed the letter, clearly a way of his to save face. But you knew the truth. Your husband missed you.

You quickly grabbed parchment and a quill yourself. Breakfast could wait for now.

-----

It was a few days later when Aemond got your longing reply by raven. He hated to admit it, but his heart was pounding when he got word a letter had arrived for him. He opened the seal far too eager, reading the words like a man starved.

You wrote of how you missed him too. You had used beautiful words to say how badly you missed him by your side, how you wished to sleep beside him and feel him closer.

Aemond licked his lips unconsciously, remembering the way you always looked so effortlessly gorgeous when you woke up next to him, the early morning light always making you squint your eyes as you tried to wake up. 

You were bolder in this letter, stating how you couldn’t wait to return to continue on with your lives together. And you wrote of your dreams. Dreams of the family you wanted with him, of the life you would both build together.

He finished the letter, your fervent love declaration at the bottom. He took a deep breath, and he could swear he could faintly smell your perfume.

Had you sprayed some on the parchment? Minx.

You had been bolder in this letter, but Aemond could do better than that.

You had always been so shy in voicing your wants. In voicing what you desired. He wasn’t shy.

‘My dearest wife,

You paint a lovely picture of our future, sweet lady, yet a bold one all the same.

I dream of you, too.

I dream of you beneath me, your hair splayed across the pillow, your eyes closed in bliss. I imagine you arching into my touch, your body trembling with need as my hands explore every curve and contour. I will worship every inch of you, sweet wife, my tongue tracing your skin until you are dripping and begging for me.’

Aemond paused for a moment. He needed you, Gods, he needed you. But he also knew he had to reel himself in. He couldn't be too eager, too direct. He still respected you, needed you to know his needs were not just lust, but love as well. 

‘Forgive me, my lady, but my want for you never seems to end. You have bewitched me, it seems, thoughts of you always haunting me. Memories of you beneath me, moaning my name so sweetly. 

Know that my desire for you is rooted in the love I have for you, sweet wife. I crave not just your body, but your soul, your mind, your spirit. I am consumed by the need to be one with you in every way imaginable. When I make love to you, it is an act of worship, a testament to the way you have captured my heart so completely.’

It was incredible, the way he missed you so badly. Almost two weeks had passed now, and he had two more weeks to go. If he was lucky, that is. The journey in your carriage could take longer if you were unlucky with the weather, or a broken wheel.

He groaned annoyed. Impatient. 

‘Please know that every word I write, every thought I have, is colored by the depth of my love for you. I am yours, forever.

Your husband,

Aemond Targaryen

Dragonrider’

He couldn't help himself at the end. He was simply proud of the fact. How many people could call themselves a dragonrider? Not a lot.

He sealed the letter, ordering another servant around to send it with the quickest raven they possessed. And then he waited. Again. 

----

You had never felt your face feel as warm as it did when you read your husband’s letter. How…how…shocking! Scandalous! Arousing!

You thought about teasing him in return, writing a letter filled with depraved words. A letter in which you would admit that you had touched yourself while thinking of him. How your fingers could never compare to his.

But that wouldn’t be enough.

In the end, you wrote a short, straight to the point letter. 

‘Come visit me.

Yours, 

Your aching wife’

----

Aemond had barely finished reading your letter before he was bolting out of the grand doors of the Red Keep, pretty much shoving a knight off of their horse. He rode towards where Vhagar was resting, his heart pounding and his cock hard.

“Just you wait,” he panted out to himself, “I am coming, my love.”