#a helaena x reader story for the first half of it

[pascaloverx]

BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Whoever enjoys this fanfic and wants it to continue, please engage with it. Comment and give it a like.

Warning: This chapter will contain inappropriate language and adult sexual content. Minors should not read or interact with this chapter or this fanfic.This chapter will also feature Aegon II x reader. Those who do not like it, consider yourselves warned.

FOUR

FIVE (+18)

With your hair still damp, you realize you have no idea where the dinner celebrating King Aegon II’s “great conquest” is being held. As a dutiful girl, you stand outside Prince Aemond’s chambers, waiting beside his door. You are certainly not prepared to face any of the sons of the late King Viserys, that much is certain. First and foremost, Prince Aemond likely only keeps you alive for the sake of your dragon. His opinion of you is poor, and it will not be an easy task to change that. As for King Aegon II Targaryen, he has claimed your dragon as his triumph, and it is only a matter of time before he lays claim to you as well.

After what feels like an eternity, Prince Aemond finally emerges from his chambers, his silky hair brushing past you. He walks with haste, but you could swear you glimpsed a hint of a smile on his face, amused, perhaps, by how desperately you follow him. Eventually, the two of you reach a grand room, where a large, bountiful table awaits. Seated there are several figures—among them, you can imagine Queen dowager Alicent and Queen Helaena, along with men of importance whom the King favors enough to keep near. What matters now is that you and Aemond have arrived to take your places at the table, all eyes upon you, while you remain half-hidden behind the One-eyed Prince.

"Brother, come join us. Bring the bastard whore with you; I’ve chosen a special place for the both of you." King Aegon speaks, taking long swigs of his drink, his tone almost gleeful. Prince Aemond turns back to look at you, his gaze offering some semblance of reassurance. He then walks ahead, making his way toward the two vacant seats—one directly across from the King, and the other beside it. You hesitate, uncertain of where you should sit, until Aemond takes his place across from his brother. With a sigh, still unsure of why you’ve been seated next to the King himself, you quietly take your place at Aegon II’s side. As soon as you settle, Aegon seems to revel in your presence, a sly grin playing on his lips, while Aemond’s irritation becomes palpable. Queen Helaena remains composed, though it's clear she’s discomfited by not being seated beside her husband, yet she betrays no outward sign of it. As for the Dowager Queen Alicent, her gaze upon you is filled with disdain, as though your very presence disgusts her, a look of barely concealed nausea crossing her face.

"And what have I missed whilst I was out there, risking my life so that my beloved brother might revel in yet another triumph? I trust you are basking in this small victory claimed in your name, Your Grace," Prince Aemond speaks with veiled mockery, his tone laden with provocation, clearly aiming to stir his brother. The King, however, merely chuckles in response, rising from his seat as he lifts his goblet, maintaining a steady gaze upon Aemond.

"I have a new dragon under my command, brother. Celebrate this with us and cease your sulking—no more complaints. In fact, as you bring with you two pieces of news, tell me, who is the bastard that claimed a dragon on my behalf?" King Aegon II speaks with a slurred voice, clearly intoxicated, as he takes another long swig from his cup before seating himself once more. For a fleeting moment, you feared the brothers might come to blows right before your eyes.

"She is a whore who once worked in a brothel. By chance, I learned she might be a candidate to claim a dragon in your name, Your Grace. Her name is Y/N. One might say she is here both as the rider of Cannibal and as my companion." Prince Aemond speaks with an air of possession, making it clear that you belong to him, even daring to assert this in front of his brother. The King throws his head back and laughs heartily.

"This is an outrage, Aemond. It is one thing for this bastard to be necessary for riding a dragon, but granting her liberties is quite another. She must be treated as any other servant within the Red Keep—or worse than a servant, for the nature of this woman is filthy. I trust the King will agree with this," the Dowager Queen Alicent speaks, her voice dripping with the same disdain her gaze conveyed when you entered the room. Her sons glance at her, seemingly holding back laughter or mocking expressions.

“Filthy or not, mother, this woman will be of utmost importance in ensuring our king's victory against Rhaenyra and her bastards. To treat her as a mere servant would lessen her efficiency in what truly matters, not to mention it leaves her vulnerable. If the bastard dies, we will have a wild dragon without a rider on our hands, and that is a risk we cannot afford,” Prince Aemond declares, calmly taking a bite of food as he finishes his words. Alicent appears momentarily unsettled by her son’s reasoning, her eyes shifting to Aegon, as if seeking his support.

"If my presence displeases the Dowager Queen, I shall take my leave. With your permissions, Your Graces, Your Highnesses," you finally speak, sensing the discomfort your presence has caused. Rising from your seat, you move to step away, but before you can retreat, Aegon seizes your hand with a sudden force, drawing a soft cry from your lips. The king's grip tightens, and the flash of pain seems to amuse him. His gaze locks onto yours, not just with the arrogance you'd expect but with something far more unsettling. His eyes burn with a mixture of hunger and fascination, it feels as though he sees nothing but you, the intensity of his stare sharp and invasive, as if he seeks to consume and control.

The room falls into an uneasy silence as King Aegon II holds you in his gaze, the weight of his attention making your skin prickle. You remain frozen, unsure whether to meet his eyes or look away. The tension only breaks when Aemond clears his throat, the sound harsh, cutting through the stillness. The awkwardness breaks when you hear Aemond clear his throat, the scrape loud and sharp. His expression is dark, fury simmering beneath the surface for reasons unknown.

"Gundjabo, sit down. Your king has not given you leave from the table; and as long as you remain my companion, where I go, you shall be," Prince Aemond commands, his voice calm yet laced with authority, as though he were merely stating a simple truth. Despite the firmness of his words, there’s a measured quality, as if he’s reminding you of an expectation rather than issuing a harsh order. King Aegon II shifts uncomfortably, visibly displeased that his brother spoke before him. The tension between them is palpable, but the thick scent of alcohol clinging to Aegon suggests his ability to assert himself coherently is slipping. His eyes cloud with frustration, though no sharp retort escapes his lips. The haze of drink weighs too heavily on him, making him less dangerous but no less unpredictable in his demeanor.

"Dragons are delicate creatures; to tame one, you must forsake the other. Your survival will depend on this," Queen Helaena murmurs, her hand gently gripping your arm just as you make to sit again. Her gaze is heavy with sorrow, perhaps even anguish, as though she pities you deeply. The weight of her words lingers, leaving you unsettled and confused, though you dare not disregard the queen’s cryptic warning. With a quiet nod, you gently remove her hand from your arm, your fingers brushing hers in a gesture of respect. You offer a slight bow of your head, as if signaling your understanding, though in truth, the meaning behind her words remains a mystery to you.

"My wife’s mind is clouded. She must be in need of rest," King Aegon II declares, his voice languid, as though half-expecting someone to escort the queen away. The Dowager Queen takes a sip from her goblet, her gaze cold and unreadable. With a nod of reluctant duty, she rises, helping her daughter to her feet. Together, they leave the hall. It’s clear that Alicent seized the opportunity to withdraw, no doubt irritated at having to dine in the presence of someone she deems as filthy as you. Helaena, however, seems shaken, likely still grieving the loss of her son. You cannot help but feel a twinge of empathy for her. Having lost your own mother not long ago, you understand the pain of trying to remain composed after a great loss. The weight of grief can be unbearable, and you imagine Helaena is suffering under its relentless pressure.

"We should return to our celebration," King Aegon II declares, his voice thick with drink and a trace of a grin forming on his lips. "Soon enough, we shall be feasting over the defeat of my sister, the maker of bastards." He raises his cup again, indulging in yet another long sip. You quietly take your seat, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of so many eyes. Though the room hums with voices, you can feel the unwavering gaze of Prince Aemond on you, as if his watchful eye would catch even the smallest misstep. The tension lingers, but you remain silent, unsure of what fate awaits you in this unpredictable court. The fact that you are being watched by Prince Aemond in itself is not a challenge until King Aegon II begins to run his hand under your thigh. The fabric of your dress is what separates his hand from getting dangerously close to your pussy. You bite your lip lightly as you try to hide it, as King Aegon II continues to touch you.

It is undeniably awkward, feeling the touch of the King upon you, yet a gnawing intuition suggests this was his intention from the moment he chose to seat you beside him. Stranger still, Prince Aemond seems fully aware of the King’s actions, though his silent fury is evident as he continues to eat, his movements tense with unspoken rage. Deciding to test the waters, you gently place your hand atop King Aegon II’s, running your fingers softly across his skin. His response is immediate; a faint sound of surprise escapes him, as if your touch unsettled him. However, moments later, he pulls his hand away, only to lean in closer, his breath warm against your ear. His voice, low and thick with intent, whispers, "I shall be waiting for you in my chambers." The words send a jolt through you, and you almost choke on the piece of bread in your mouth.

The remainder of the dinner passes with far less tension once King Aegon II rises to address the other guests, his attention mercifully drawn elsewhere. Seizing the opportunity, you quietly decide to slip away, hoping to escape the lingering eyes and unspoken threats. Rising from your seat, you move with practiced stealth, making your way out of the hall. A walk through the darkened corridors of the castle feels necessary—anything to clear your mind from the weight of the night's events and to gather your thoughts about what may come next. However, your solitude is cut short when, without warning, a hand grabs you and drags you into a nearby room. Another hand quickly covers your mouth, stifling your startled gasp. Panic flares briefly, but then you recognize the touch, the familiar grip.

"What business do you have with my brother?" Prince Aemond inquires, his hands firmly gripping you—one at your waist and the other covering your mouth. Despite the inappropriateness of the moment, you find yourself enjoying his evident jealousy. He impatiently waits for your response only to realize that he must remove his hand from your mouth to allow you to answer him.

"Your Highness, your brother is my sovereign. Aside from that, there exists no connection between us. Should there be any misunderstanding, permit me to clarify that I harbor no intention of causing offense to anyone." You speak with an air of feigned innocence, aware that deceiving the Prince is of utmost necessity. Otherwise, your carefully laid plans may be imperiled, and you have not endured so much only to face failure now.

"Do you presume to deceive me? Gundjabo, I trust you understand the peril of attempting to mislead me. I am well aware that he was touching you, likely suggesting a meeting later. Pray tell, what could possess His Grace to take such an interest in you?" Aemond speaks with a sadistic edge, a near diabolical laugh escaping his lips upon concluding his words. You ponder how to respond appropriately but soon realize that a different approach may prove more effective. Drawing the Prince's face closer to yours, you lean in as though to kiss him. The tension in the air is palpable, intoxicating; the scent of Aemond envelops you as you claim his lips as if they were rightfully yours. This time you are in control of the kiss, devouring Aemond's lips. His tongue is battling with yours for dominance in the kiss but when you pull his hair back a little, you see him get lost in you. His hands now dominantly holding your waist, you using your hand to massage his cock over his clothes. Even though you just relieved him a few moments ago, he already seems excited. And then you push Prince Aemond away, pushing him away abruptly.

"I trust I have alleviated your doubts, Your Highness. However, should this demonstration fail to satisfy, allow me to use words. Your brother, our beloved King, desires from me what any other might wish. Do not forget, you refer to me as gundjabo for a reason. I wish you a pleasant evening, Prince Aemond." With that, you swiftly exit the chamber. As you leave, you hear a loud noise behind you, prompting a smile to grace your lips. It is evident that you are toying with fire, yet at this moment, it is the best course of action you can take.

As you regain your composure, you begin to traverse the corridors behind the chambers of King Aegon II. The castle is vast, yet your determination drives you forward. His goal is to gain some sort of influence over King Aegon II, if screwing him is what he has to do, it will be done. It wouldn't be the first time you've given yourself to him anyway.

"Are you looking for me?" The King speaks as he leans against the door of what you assume to be his chambers. Your gaze towards him is like that of a predator seeing its prey. As if the fire within you was ignited by your previous encounter with Prince Aemond, you don't take long to attack King Aegon II's lips, kissing him. His lips are like pure alcohol, you feel like you're losing your breath but not in a sexual way. He awkwardly tries to put his arms around you, but you quickly hold him against the door to his chambers. He doesn't know where to put his hands, he needs you to have dominance.

"Your Grace, we are too exposed. Queen Helaena might be nearby, which would be an inconvenience. Don't you think it would be more prudent to keep our distance?" You speak with feigned innocence, almost bordering on naivety. You even gently place your hands on Aegon's face, like he used to love you doing the times he went to the brothel.

"I am the King. I will not keep my distance from anyone I do not want. And right now, I want you in my chambers." Aegon speaks with a certain firmness, but the goofy way he says it almost makes you laugh. You decide to pretend to take him seriously.

"I am nothing more than your servant, Your Grace. If King Aegon II wants me, I must be his." Those words leave a bitter taste in his mouth but he seems to believe you. He gives you an awkward kiss and then pushes you into his chambers. As he suddenly opened the door to his quarters, you ended up falling on top of him who was leaning against the door. He laughed out loud, while you were already getting less horny. Then his firm hand pulls your face close to his, forcing a kiss on you. The kiss is hard, he doesn't know whether to use his tongue or bite your mouth. His hands are playing with the detail of your dress, which is holding the back of it together. In the middle of the messy kiss while you're under him, he unties the detail of your dress. This causes your dress to almost fall down and reveal your naked body.

"Be mine, you bastard whore. I promise you that if you give me your wet little pussy, I will give you as many bastards as you want." King Aegon II has a habit of talking nonsense after getting drunk. You're already adapted, you were the prostitute he fucked for a few years. You kiss him to shut him up, trying to show him how to kiss in a more attractive way. You suck his tongue, slowly; while your eyes are closed. You'd be lying if you didn't say that with your eyes closed, you can imagine yourself kissing Prince Aemond. Aemond may be a greater risk to your safety but he knows how to turn someone on like no one else.

"Your Grace, I want to try to do something. I assure you that you will like it." You say, practically sitting on top of Aegon's dick. Either your kiss is really good or the drink has already taken over him, because all he does is mumble something that sounds like an authorization. Either way, you rip the hem of your dress, taking the torn piece of fabric and using it to blindfold King Aegon II.

"What are you up to, whore?" King Aegon II says as he runs his hands all over your body. You tear the dress from your body, and any other clothing you were wearing. Taking advantage from the King's vulnerable moment, you remove the pieces of King Aegon II's clothing. In reality you only remove the essentials so he can fuck you.

"I just want you to feel good, Your Majesty," you reply, almost whispering against the King's ear. You giggle lightly as you feel him drag his nails down your thigh. Before riding his cock, you kiss him. In the middle of the kiss, his hands go to your face and hold you firmly. Then you position his dick at the entrance of your pussy, going down and up his dick. He smiles, even blindfolded; for a moment you imagine what it must be like to ride Prince Aemond. Him with his eye patch, would it be like this? If you could now, you would leave Aegon only partially blindfolded to get a better idea of what it would be like. The hands of King Aegon II, hold your breasts, massaging them while it seems that he wants to be connected to you in any way possible. You still going up and down on his cock, kissing his neck while moaning his name. You start to increase the friction between your pussy and his cock when you feel he is about to cum. For a moment between the moans of both of you, you throw your head back continuing to ride the King's cock, but imagining what it would be like if you could taste his brother's cock. Your reveries are only interrupted when King Aegon II aggressively touches your nipples, trying to stimulate them. The feeling is nice so you end up moaning even more, maybe even a little too loudly. It is then that King Aegon II, groping you, pulls you closer to him and kisses you aggressively. He bites your lip, with such force that it cuts your lip, causing some blood to come out. The taste of your blood is in his mouth, which seems to excite him as he moves his waist more as if he wants to give stronger thrusts while he forces his lips against yours even with your blood being all he will taste.

"Your taste is so delicious that it should be reserved just for me . Your mother was right, you are special. You seem to have been made to be eaten by Targaryens. It's even in your blood." He speaks against your mouth while you were still kissing. Shortly after he cums inside you, while his hands are pressed against your back. You could stop fucking King Aegon II, but you were too eager to feel something. So you continued to move up and down on his cock, grinding a little. King Aegon II didn't seem to mind, especially when you stood over him, kissing his chest, then slowly moving your kisses up to his neck, biting him lightly but you wanted to bite him until you ripped off his skin. As your hands were passing close to his neck, you imagined yourself pressing your hands tightly against his throat. But you kept kissing him, from his neck to his lips. While fucking yourself using his cock, at least that's what it looked like. Finally as you kiss him, you cum under him. He also apparently managed to cum a second time.

"I must leave your chambers, Your Grace. Know that I am grateful that you have welcomed me into your chambers," you say as you climb off of King Aegon II, removing the piece of cloth from his eyes. Then you start to dress again while the King, sits on the floor, half naked; watching you.

"There's no need to be so urgent about leaving. Helaena isn't sharing quarters with me. To be honest, I haven't fucked her since Jaehaerys died." Aegon opens up to you as you finish getting yourself decently dressed. Strangely enough, he seems genuinely sad, you just don't know if it's because of his son's death or because he can't fuck with his wife.

"I am certain that, in time, Queen Helaena will return to your chambers, even if only with the purpose of granting you an heir to the throne," you say softly, seating yourself upon the floor near the King. He approaches, his touch light as his fingers graze your face.

"I do not have the luxury of waiting for Helaena to grant me another son," King Aegon declares, his tone unguarded, as though he is not concealing the gravity of his words. "We are in the midst of war. My son was my legacy, and with his death, it is only a matter of time before my claim to the throne weakens. I need a legitimate male heir to pass the crown to when the time comes." His words are spoken as if ridding himself of his wife were a mere formality, nothing more.

"Your Grace will surely find the best course to resolve this dilemma, just as you shall win this war. By the grace of the Seven, you will prevail. With your leave, I must attend to the obligations of your brother’s company." You rise to leave, but King Aegon II seizes your hand.

"Outside these chambers, you may be a dragonrider, Aemond's companion, or whatever else proves convenient, but within my quarters, you are mine. My whore. Have I made myself clear?" His words send a chill through you, the bluntness unnerving. In response, you take his hand, kneel before him, and press your lips to his in a kiss, one that you strive to make seem spontaneous and tender, masking your dread with feigned affection.

"Indeed, Your Majesty. I bid you a good night." You murmur as your lips part from King Aegon II's, maintaining an air of composure despite the tumult within. With deliberate grace, you rise and depart from his chambers, your gown partially torn, the weight of what you have set into motion pressing heavily upon you. The realization that you are treading into the dragon’s den, fully aware that you may emerge burnt or broken, settles like a shadow over your resolve. Yet, no act of vengeance is without its cost. You understand this well. You shall endure, for the memory of your mother demands retribution—even if it should be your last undertaking.

"My mother was right about you. You truly are a filthy whore. If you've finished entertaining my brother, gundjabo, I believe your dragon would greatly appreciate your company tonight." Prince Aemond's voice takes on a deeper, more menacing tone, clearly seething with irritation. He had been standing near Aegon’s chambers, likely waiting. You offer no retort, silently accepting his words as you watch him stride away, his silver hair swaying with his steps, his presence intimidating and cold. All that remains is your hope that Cannibal will be in a forgiving mood, willing to offer you refuge for the night.

  GLOSSARY

Gundjabo - Prostitute

[aldeanotes]

bisexuality behavior starts in chapter two

[earth4angels]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

jacaerys velaryon x aunt!targaryen reader ͟ ͟ ͟ friends to lovers, sexual content but no smut, incest (reader is aunt), fluff, semi angst(?), aemond being dumb, jace knows how to fight, i refuse to believe laenor never taught his kids how to defend themselves. slight switch of povs, basically the dinner fight, but added my own take, not edited.

summary: after the accident in driftmark the relationship between y/n and jacaerys became distant, when it came to the petition of the heir to driftmark, feelings came back full force. it took a bloody fight yet again to get jacaerys to act on his feelings before it was too late. but also, to unite the house of the dragon.

a/n: um? this is probably more than 1k words, i really went in. i had so much fun writing this & gosh.. do i have the guts to expand their relationship BUT ANYWAYS ENJOYYYY

somewhat based on this request. jace tag list: @jacaerysgf, @star611, @jules420, @gracexthoughts, @astrxq, @reyndaisy, @hxtd

For as long as Jacaerys can remember, he had always felt deep affection for his dearest aunt who was no more than a year older.

At first, it started with a childish admiration for how she spoke to him, how she would run her fingers through his curls when he would run towards her after sword training, read stories about the doom, or Visenya who she claimed was the best warrior to ever exist. Jacaerys admired her, she was his favorite aunt not that he had many but besides Helaena, she was his favorite. Again, it started with a childish crush. The smallfolk had a joke spread about how if anyone wanted to find Y/N, one had to look for small Jacaerys who followed closely behind her like a pup.

She never minded the talk, she loved her siblings and her nephews, it was one thing that differed her from her own brothers, who grew to despise the Velaryon boys. She loved Jacaerys, the way he always spoke of his growing bond with Vermax, the small adventures they would take to the gardens, or the adventures they took through the secret passages, and the library. She especially loved the moments he would sneak her strawberry cakes during her high valyrian studies when no one was looking. To her, Jacaerys was so dear to her heart, she dreamed childishly how it would be if they married.

She never understood why the hatred grew to the point everything that pointed toward her older sister was prohibited. Her siblings never had a close relationship with their father, but she did, she enjoyed the stories her father told her, but she mostly loved building and painting his replica of the seven kingdoms with him. Her father, King Viserys had always talked to her about protecting their own, as it was said, the House of the Dragon had to stay together to hold the realm united.

"Damn bastard," Aemond muttered under his breath as he rushed past her dusting his now muddy training gear. She narrowed her eyes at her brother, the word bringing her to wince. It was not the first time she heard it, at the age of 6, her mother had prohibited her from spending time with her half-sister and her children since the fight at Driftmark. She understood why, but she could not bring herself to be cold towards her half-family.

"Brother, enough." Y/n had her hand up to his shoulder, Aemond's one eye glared at her, "You must learn to let go of this anger, it is treason to speak of that word out loud."

Aemond scoffed, "Of course, my dear sister, protecting the bastards, you still defend them after what they did to me?" Aemond had snatched his eyepatch from his eye, showing its bright blue glow of a gem towards her.

"Brother... we were all children! Luce was only protec-" She choked as she was now slammed against the wall, a hand tight around her neck, she wildly stared at him, alarmed.

"Protecting? Dear sister, you are more than a fool. You rather protect bastards than the blood of the dragon?" Aemond chuckled in disbelief, "You, the same as father are fools."

He let go of her as she slumped against the wall, her hand clasped around her throat as she heaved, trying to get air back into her lungs. She watched teary-eyed from the loss of air the shadows of her brother grow distant with the further he went down the hall.

"Y/n?" a voice spoke from the opposite side of the hall. She looked back to meet the face of her once-best friend. "Seven hells! What happened?!"

Jacaerys rushed towards her, lifting her carefully as if she were the most fragile jewel to exist. In a sense to Jacaerys, she was.

She blinked, confused as to where he had come from. The last time she saw him, they were children, and he had promised to write her, yet after five ravens, the letters stopped, causing her to believe he had grown to hate her for what happened that night. It was then she realized why Aemond was so upset, why her mother suddenly left her and Heleana from embroidery to attend the council. Her mother avoided greeting her half-sister. Today was the petition of who was going to take over Driftmark. The house of the dragon was united once again, but not in the way she wanted to.

"Nephew?" She asked, confused again.

"Come, sit here. Let me get you some water," Jacaerys had placed her in the comfort of the shade of a tree. He had removed his cloak, placing it on the ground for her to sit as he ran to get her water. She stayed in silence beside her dry coughs that slipped once in a while. Jacaerys appeared again with a glass of water, she muttered a soft thank you before she drank till her throat was once again free from the harsh itches.

She looked toward him, finding him looking at her softly, his eyes burying themselves in the soft lilac color of her eyes. She blushed, coughing to avoid looking at him instead she focused on the grass beside her, picking at it softly.

"So... care to explain why you have a red mark on your neck?"

Y/n bit the inside of her cheek before she focused her stare on the blank blue sky, if Jacaerys was not paying attention he would have missed the soft murmur of her voice, "It was nothing."

Jacaerys opened his mouth to argue when the bells of the castle banged so hard that they echoed through the hallways.

"Don't think I won't let this go y/n," he spoke softly beside her, she only blinked in response. He shook his head as his tongue touched the roof of his mouth and he let go, making a sound that almost sounded like a click.

"You should go, my sister would probably be worried as to why you are taking so long. It is rude to keep your mother waiting."

Jacaerys rolled his eyes, before he lifted a hand towards her, a gesture for her to grab onto it. She stared at his pale hand, taking a moment to admire the changes, he was muscular now, and no more stood the boy who almost looked easy to push around. She followed the path of his hand toward his face, her breath hitching when she realized he still wore the necklace she had made him when they were children.

"You... you kept it?" Y/n stuttered, pointing to his neck. Jacaerys hummed, touching it delicately, his fingers rubbing softly at the soft shells. She had made that the day of Laena's funeral, she went and followed the path towards the beach to find seashells. She made it in hopes for him to feel better. She never thought he would keep it after all those years.

"Why wouldn't I?"

She stood up on her own avoiding his touch in fear she might want to curl into the safety of his hold.

“Go figure. You stopped writing to me.”

“What?” Jacaerys stood in front of her, stopping her from stepping another step further from him, “I never stopped? What do you mean I stopped? I sent so many ravens to you. I never heard from you after the fourth or fifth one.”

Now she was confused. “I sent you ravens too! You never sent me any back, I waited… I figured you just blamed me for what happened,” she muttered.

Jacaerys did another click with his tongue, before he reached out to her, her small hands fitting perfectly well inside his.

“Whatever happened that night, it’s forgotten. We were children, you were not even there for me to blame you. Aemond being your brother changes nothing, I still care for you just as much as I did when I was a child.”

She tightened the hold of his hands between hers before looking into his eyes, all she found was a soft gaze, not anything that was malicious, as she would find mostly in Aemond’s eye.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, she did not want to tell him how she felt for him. It was like Jacaerys had read her mind, though he was one year behind her, he always looked after her, to Jacaerys - she was everything he wanted in a wife, and he dreamed of making her as such.

“I’ve missed you, did you not?” he lifted one hand to caress her braid that was left falling off her shoulder to slowly reaching for her cheek where he held her delicately once again.

Y/n smiled, the fluttering feeling in her stomach making it hard to not release a giggle, she felt home.

“Of course I did Jace, I missed you so much.”

Ser Arryk spoke from the entrance of the garden, his armor glittering with the rays of the sun reflecting it, “Princess? The queen is expecting you in the grand hall.”

She nodded, feeling regretful of not spending more time with Jace, she had so much to tell him, to get caught up on.

“Thank you Ser Arryk, I will be there in a minute.”

She looked towards Jace again finding him still looking at her, a glint of mischief flashed, she narrowed her eyes making him smirk, “I guess you have to go aunt.”

The way he said it made her want to clench her thighs together, she cleared her throat, “I’ll see you soon my dearest nephew.”

He laughed like the word from her mouth was the biggest joke he had heard. His curls bouncing with the shake of his body, he reached down for her hand, placing a lingering kiss, “Princess.”

She watched as he turned, walking towards the grand hall passing Ser Arryk who bowed his head. Her stomach was still fluttering, all she wanted to do was jump and roll in the comfort of her bed, but she needed to meet her family and yet again witness another rift between the family.

"Her children," a long pause echoed through the grand hall, Y/n had her hands interlaced with each other, squeezing them so hard her skin was becoming white. She quickly glanced around the room, noticing her brothers smirking with anticipation, to her half-sister's family. She came across the eyes of her prince, who looked seconds from using his sharp sword to kill. She licked her lips, the anxiety building, she knew what was coming, and honestly, she was looking forward to it.

"ARE BASTARDS! And she is, a whore," Vaemond exclaimed.

Echoes of gasps and murmurs were heard, but Y/n blocked it as it all happened quickly. The blood splattered harshly like a quick burst of wind splashing her dark emerald dress. She gasped, her body being pulled back by Aegon who quickly acted to wipe off the blood off her dress and the little that landed on her face.

She would lie if she said she did not enjoy what she saw, in fact, she was glad it happened. That word being tossed around needed to be acted with a consequence, and she was proud of Daemon for warning those who followed Vaemond in speaking of her family that way.

The court ended and she was left rushed to her chambers, her ladies-in-waiting rushing to prepare a quick bath as her father requested them to have dinner together.

"You all can go," y/n spoke as she untied the laces off her dress.

"Princess-" Elydia, her closest handmaiden reached towards her to help her protested.

"Please, I need to have some moments alone, I will notify when finished."

"Princess."

She sighed, the weight on her shoulders becoming too heavy, she rolled her head side to side to relieve the pain. As she sunk into the rose-covered bath, moaning in bliss from the warmth she was sunken into, a knock was heard from her bed chamber. A familiar series of knocks, one that she missed hearing, sparking a rush of adrenaline.

She rushed to throw on a light blue gown, her hair soaking the silk material, making her breasts noticeable. Her footsteps were rushed as she reached the familiar wall by her bed, she knocked a similar tune before she pushed into it.

Jacaerys stood behind the wall, in his hands laid a wooden box with letters, her letters.

"Hi," he spoke softly, his voice sending butterflies all over her body

"Hi," she moved aside to let him enter her room, her eyes flickering quickly to the door of her room before eyeing the male before her, "What are you doing here? If my guards, see you... the scandal we could be in!"

He smirked, his plum juicy lips - she did not want to stare so much but she could not help observing him - quirked to the side, "That did not stop us when we were children."

She scoffed, "You said it yourself when we were children."

He smiled mockingly before he stopped in his tracks. He did not expect to see her so... vulnerable. The fantasies started to play out in his mind, he recalled all those moments he thought of her late at night. The fire ignited inside of him when he saw her in the garden, her hair flowing through the wind, her soft features to her soft lilac eyes.

Jacaerys wanted to propose to her mother a betrothal, to finally make y/n his, to act out all the fantasies he thought when she appeared in his mind.

"Jace?" She whispered, feeling self-conscious about the way he stared at her. He looked ready to bounce, his brown eyes scanning her up and down, she squeezed her thighs together.

"You... aunt I can see you wholly," he cleared his throat to avoid his voice sounding so raspy.

"Excuse me?" Y/n was confused until he gestured to her body, "Oh... Oh!" Her cheeks blossomed with a deep scarlet red tint; she rushed across the room to grab her robe tightly wrapping it around her body.

Jacaerys cleared his throat again, "Um... I just wanted to stop by before we saw each other at dinner again, the letters you had sent me."

Her cheeks still stained with red walked towards him, gathering the box between her hands, "So what with it?"

"I received and sent you letters y/n. I never stopped writing to you, I even made Mother annoyed with how many times I have asked her if there was ever anything sent to me."

She blinked her confusion, "Jacaerys I always wrote to you, your letters never came but I always sent you updates how things were here - "

"I know of everything, but I am giving you complete honesty on the fact that I never stopped," he stepped towards her, his hand on her cheek with his thumb rubbing soft circles calming her.

"What do you want me to do with that information? Do you know how much our families hate each other? How much Aemond goes around cursing Luce's name, your name? I shouldn't even be talking to yo-"

She stopped when he stepped closer, she felt his breath on her lips, her eyes darted down his lips to his eyes. Her breath hitched, he was so close. So close, she just wanted to taste how soft his lips truly were.

"Tell me to go, and I will. I will never bother you again, but tell me, you never want to see me, and I will."

Jacaerys hoped she never spoke of the words, as he wanted to kiss her, to tell her of the once confession he wrote in those many letters. She was just so pretty; he wanted to steal her and take her to Dragonstone where he wanted to marry her. He wanted to taste the sweetness between her legs, to have her scream, moan out his name, to fill her belly with the future heirs of Westeros.

His hand stayed on her cheek as he continued to stare, waiting for her to speak. Her breaths came out shallow and she began to shake with need.

"Don't go," she whispered, her hands reaching to grab his shoulders, pulling him closer towards her, "Please don't leave me."

"Gods," he wrapped his arms around her as he shakingly asked her, afraid she will finally reject him, but he hoped, "Can I kiss you?"

She gasped, the dazed look in her eyes fading as she began to pull away, "No... No... we can't Jacaerys! We are not betrothed, we are not promised to each other, my virtue could be quest-"

Her rambles were left to the old gods to wonder as Jacaerys placed his lips on her, "No offense, but you talk a lot."

She groaned against his lips at the jab he made but melted into the kiss, a kiss she longed for as the feelings that she did not want to admit surfaced. She only read books about the acts of kissing, yet she felt as if she knew with the way she kissed Jacaerys.

Her core suddenly felt tingly with how he was holding her, his hand deep inside her hair as the other ran down the silk of her gown to hitch a leg around his waist as he guided her down her bed.

"Jace..." she moaned, her throat begging for air as she pulled away, yet he did not stop, his lips trailing down her cheeks, prepping her with soft kisses to finally nipping at her throat. She moaned again.

"I have always wanted to do this," he whispered against her throat, "I badly want to take you, to have you sore, so fucked out of your mind that you forget your own name," he raised his head, his elbow by her head to prep himself just so he can look down at her.

She breathed heavily, "You..." she reached out, "You can't..."

"I would never dishonor you that way, but I will fight to make you, my wife. I will speak to mother, to my grandsire."

"Jace..."

He placed a kiss on her nose, smiling when she let out a giggle, "Tell me you also want me."

"I never wanted to admit it, but I do, I have always wanted you."

A knock disturbed their sweet bubble, and they both scrambled away from each other as y/n pulled her gown down. Jacaerys grabbed his cloak she did not even realize he had removed as he moved to the secret passage again.

"Princess? The queen requests your presence, dinner will start shortly."

She looked at Jacaerys as he whispered, "I will see you soon aunt." Y/n rolled her eyes but still smiled as she nodded.

The wall closed, and as if nothing happened, the room became quiet once again, she gathered her thoughts as she replied, "Almost done, please help me dress Elydia."

The entire time she was prepped for dinner she was smiling to herself. She could not wait to see her prince again. She had even requested for her hair to be loose, just two small braids creating a crown decorated her. She had wanted to look perfect for him.

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Her family was beyond divided, as she sat beside Helaena, it was too quiet, the only noises came from the cooks who were walking around to place the food on the table. She watched as Aemond sent nonstop glares towards her nephews.

She had found out through Helaena that Aemond had lost against Jacaerys during training. Jacaerys had taken his sword one minute into sparring. It finally made sense why Aemond was so upset when she came across him in the garden. Her lips tugged into a quiet snicker at the idea of her brother being put in his place.

As she drank her wine, her father spoke.

"It pains me to see our family divided. As the house of the dragon, we must be united to have the kingdom prosper in peace. All of you must leave behind your childish arguments! Do it for me, your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire. Leave behind this anger!"

As her older sister stood to make a toast in hopes of making peace with her mother, she made eye contact with Jacaerys who was already looking at her. He smiled softly at her before he looked towards his mother, his mouth turning into a smirk as he hid it behind his glass of wine. Her eyebrows furrowed, and as she was going to question her sister's voice came through.

"... It has been decided for the good of our families, and to make the future of House Targaryen stronger, that Princess Y/n, and my son, Prince Jacaerys be wed. They shall be in the future the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Alicent shot up from her chair, "What?!"

Viserys wheezed but held strong as he banged his hands onto the table preventing an argument once again, "I wholeheartedly agree to this proposal as my dearest grandson himself asked to be wed to my beautiful daughter. They are to be wed as soon as possible."

Y/n couldn't help but smile widely, "Thank you, father," she looked towards her oldest sister, "Sister."

"Har! Har! Har!" Daemon raised his glass with a mischief glint in his eyes, his mouth into a wide smirk, he enjoyed seeing Alicent and Otto Hightower's plans get ruined.

Her mother could not argue against the newest betrothal since the King had officially declared it. She also had made peace with her once close friend as they toasted to each other. However, that did not stop her brothers from having a mind of their own, their mouths ready to retaliate.

As the night passed, and her father was no longer there to hold the peace, she held her breath as she knew, no she felt the anger boiling from her family. Aegon was the first to let out jests, and with that followed Aemond who did not hold back.

Jacaerys stood, his hand slammed into his uncle's shoulders to sit him back onto his seat, "You will keep your mouth shut about my betrothed. Jest all you want about me, but my wife-to-be, you will keep shut. Understood?"

Aegon snickered, satisfied with the reaction, he lifted his hands up in surrender.

She did not want to admit how it ignited such a need for her soon-to-be husband. She has never found him any hotter than what he looked like. His curls covered his dark gaze, his veiny long hands clasped together as to hold himself back.

"Boys. Enough. Let's finish dinner without any more arguments." Rhaenyra spoke in hopes of stopping the tension that was boiling.

It was enough for a moment. As Lucerys snickered at the pig that was placed on the table, in hopes for his uncle to join in the fun, as he believed it was an innocent act of jest. The blood came and what was a peaceful dinner, turned into the dragon's war.

"I dare you to say that again," Jace spoke from beside her, his hand holding hers to calm himself.

"Are you not proud of your house, dear nephew?" Aemond mocked, Aegon snickered, as the adults surrounding them stopped their dinner to hear what was going on, "I thought you considered yourself a strong knight."

A growl-like rumble came from Jacaerys as he rushed to punch her brother over and over. She scrambled towards them, yelling for them to stop, Aemond had gotten two hits through, but Jacaerys had the upper hand as his knuckles were bloodied. The guards had come to pull her brothers and nephews apart.

"Enough! All of you, back to your chambers! Now!" Rhaenyra spoke, sending them to their rooms. Y/n felt the angry tears stream down from the exhaustion of the fights between her family.

She yelped when a hand pulled her into the shadows of pillars. With a scream stuck in her throat, she widened her eyes at Jacaerys who had his hand on her mouth to stop her from screaming.

"Come back home with me, we will marry before the old gods," he whispered.

"But if I leave, I can potentially make mother and grandsire even more mad..."

"You are already promised to me, the realm will soon learn of it, ravens are being sent as we speak. Nothing will be able to stop our union, please. Just come home with me."

She hoped she was not making a mistake, for she loved Jacaerys so much more than waiting around for her family to come between her happiness. She only hoped, this union, would unite the realm and stop any possible war that Helaena had spoken of. As she kissed Jacaerys in the shadows, the said sister smiled as she poked another thread into a gown to continue the embroidery.

"From the blood of red and green, the pain will end as the union will bring peace once again."

[vaokses]

How long this love can hold its breath

Series Masterlist / General Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: It has been years since your mother took you from King's Landing to join her in Dragonstone. Years since you and Aegon have seen one another. Years in which he has refused, time and time again, to marry, even as you tour Westeros meeting suitors in search of a husband of your choosing. That refusal can easily be undone with a few words: it was you she chose, Aegon.

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: Alicent's abuse of Aegon. Alcohol/drunkenness. Mentions of sex/prostitution. Usual Targaryen incest stuff. Arranged marriage stuff. Angst. Hurt and kind of no comfort for now.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother's claim. She rides Vermithor. As you'll figure out thorugh this one shot, she and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King's Landing. How relevant or impactful that 'thing' was depends on who of the two you ask. I've stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King's Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry.

A/N: My first work in this fandom, so i'm a bit nervous. This is a bit of a prologue/alternate PoV for a series I have in the works, but I wanted to share it as a one shot since I think it also works as one. I hope you like this!

Title is from the quote "I've hoarded your name in my mouth for months. My throat is a beehive pitched in the river. Look! Look how long this love can hold its breath." - Sierra DeMulder

It feels as if he has just rested his head on his pillow when he hears the heavy doors being pushed open, and the familiar hurried steps of his mother as she enters his apartments. 

He isn’t sure why he bothers by now in telling the guards not to let her in, since she insists on overruling his orders whenever she wishes. 

Still half-asleep, Aegon reaches for the bedsheet covering his body, wary of any attempt she might make in her anger to pull it off him. Surprisingly, his mother stops a few steps away from the foot of the bed. 

Aegon feels her piercing gaze on him, and aware the choice is between caving and chasing after her, asking her what it is she wants; or waiting for the anger at his unwillingness to follow the unspoken command -and the thrown object, or the stinging hit, that comes after said anger-; he drags his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself further and asks,  

“What is it, mother?” 

“Where in the Father’s name were you? Three days, Aegon,” He winces at the reprimand. In his defense, he truly didn’t think they’d notice. Helaena would, perhaps, but she wouldn’t seek him out either way. “You were gone for three days.” 

“I wasn’t…far. I didn’t even leave King’s Landing.” 

She starts letting out a sigh, laced with disappointment and annoyance, but stops herself short, instead turning her back to him and pacing a few steps away. 

“I know where it is you go to…to satiate your vices, caring not for the shame it brings to your name and mine, behaving most unlike your station.” 

“Then why did you ask?” 

His mother won’t turn to look at him, her back turned to him and her hands joined in front of her. 

“Your sister was here.” 

His brow furrows in confusion. 

“My sister is always here.” 

“Rhaenyra was here, Aegon.” 

“Oh. What for?” 

Alicent turns on her side, considers him with eyes widened in afront and mouth curled in disgust. The question leaves her lips slowly, a threat and a dare all at once. 

“Are you still drunk?” 

He mulls over the question for a few moments, and realizes his thoughts are entirely too calm for him to be already sober. The numb haziness of the night before remains, a comfort. 

“I think I might be,” He admits, eyes darting to the side and lingering on the pitcher of wine on a nearby table. He wonders if it is empty. “Slightly.” 

When it seems his mother is intent on merely staring at him in disappointment, he motions for her to turn away and gets dressed. 

He can’t help but feel unseemly, standing before his mother in rumpled clothes and disheveled hair, while she stands tall with not a strand of hair out of order, not a speck of dust on her dress. Then again, even at his best he hasn’t managed not to feel small, unsuited, by comparison. 

Instead of letting those thoughts linger, aided by the comfortable haze the wine from the previous night -or nights, rather- provides him with, Aegon moves to sit on a table in one of the darker parts of the room. 

Alicent follows quietly, but she doesn’t sit. 

“I come here with news. You are to be married, n-…” 

He shakes his head with a mocking laugh, the defiance as easy as breathing, after four years of holding the same stance. He might not have a say in much, but he does in this. 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Your father has approved of this union. As have I.” 

He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Then you are welcome to marry her yourselves. I shall hope for a long and happy marriage for you three.” 

Sometimes, perhaps in foolish hope, in some hollow fantasy, he thinks his impertinence amuses his mother. He might imagine it, he’s quite certain he does, but sometimes he swears she furrows her lips to hide the faintest of smiles. 

But of course, she shows no give, betrays not a flicker of amusement, of softness, of anything. Try as he might to earn any of them. 

“I did not come here to entertain insolence.” 

“Why did you come here, mother?” He asks, not able to reign in the restless movements of his hands, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the table. “My stance hasn’t changed. And it won’t.” 

The restlessness building within her is betrayed in the small movements of her hands that increase in intensity the longer she looks at him. With a sudden movement, she slams a hand on the table between them and leans closer. 

“You cannot go on like this, Aegon, shrinking your duty because of the denial of a caprice of your youth.” 

“It was the one thing I asked for. I haven’t asked for anything since, nor did I ask for anything before.” 

His mother scoffs in response, looking away. 

“And that is reason enough for your wish to be granted?” She asks, derisive, almost jeering. Alicent leans back, straightens her stance again. Not too unlike Aemond adjusting his posture to strike with his sword during training, he supposes. “You have gone through your entire life doing as you please, not considering the cost to your family, to your House, to me, and you expected to be rewarded?” 

But he has considered the cost, has had no choice but to consider it, when every choice, every action, it seems almost every thought, is heavy with the impact it might have on his name, on his family. He has considered the cost, but try as he might no choice, no action, has been enough. 

“It would have…It would have changed things. If you had said yes,” He argues, an argument repeated, in his head if not aloud, a thousand times over in these passing years. And yet restlessness builds within him regardless, and he finds himself grasping at the table to keep his hands from fidgeting. “It was the smart choice. You know father would have been for it. You could have kept Vermithor on our side, and given them no choice but to play by our rules with their daughter here. We might have won this war you want so b-…” 

“All I have wanted is to make sure your lives are not forfeit when your father dies. It is not war I want.” 

“Then why did you say no?” 

She shakes her head as she looks away again. 

“The matter is settled. Long settled.” 

“Yet you never told me why.” 

He wants to hear it. More than an apology for denying him a chance at happiness, more than an admission that beyond the feelings of any involved it was the smartest choice, more than anything, he wants to hear her tell him why. 

She didn’t even hear his reasons, she didn’t even consider proposing the union to your mother, or Viserys. She dismissed him, and denied him, without even a second thought. 

He wants to know the reason why. If it was because she knew of you something he didn’t, and was certain you would have rejected him even at the cost of your home and life as you knew it, he wants to know. If it was because she believes him so monstrous that she wished to protect even the daughter of her lifelong adversary from him, he wants to know. 

If it was because in his weakness and his failings he has made himself into something even his own mother wishes to see punished, or because there was something he did -because it had to be something he did, there cannot be so many that were supposed to love him and refuse to for it not to be something he is doing wrong, something about him that is wrong- that not only managed to make his mother’s love for him vanish, but also earned him her scorn, he wants to know. He thinks knowing that to be the truth would splinter him in a way he isn’t sure he’d be able to recover from, but he is tired, and alone, and he wants to know why. 

He searches his mother’s gaze, desperate for an answer, any answer. She looks back, and yet all that is reflected back at him is contempt, disappointment, and what he fears is disgust. 

“It has been years, Aegon. You are being senselessly stubborn, holding onto this…this grudge against me.” 

He makes a face at her words, and grabs the pitcher in the table before him only to find it empty, the only wine remaining being that still in the half-filled cup. 

“It is not a grudge, I-..”  

“Weakness, then,” She sentences, and he doesn’t bother hiding the flinch at her words. His gaze lowers to the table before him. “You’re being a fool, if you think after all this t-…” 

His eyes are set on the half-full cup of wine before him, and he doesn’t dare move his gaze as he interrupts, “I am not marrying, mother.” 

She considers him in silence, and though for a moment he thinks a hit is to come -he doesn’t usually get away with interrupting her-, followed by her footsteps leaving the room, his mother takes a deep breath and insists, 

“It is not me or your father who request this of you. It is your King who commands it.” 

“The King, or his Hand?” He retorts. He grabs at the cup and downs the remaining liquid, making a face at the taste of stale wine, and presses on, “I’m guessing a Baratheon, to earn Borros’ support? Or a Tully, to secure the Riverlands?” 

For the briefest of moments, when his mother’s lips press into a thin line, hands fidgeting where they rest joined before her, he thinks he finally got the upper hand. That he proved he isn’t as blind to their plots and their increasing panic at Rhaenyra’s influence as he may appear. That he proved her wrong, that he showed he isn’t as incompetent as they’d like to think, that he… 

“A Velaryon,” Alicent admits, and any pride, any satisfaction, die out like flames in a room without air. His lips part, he knows not for what since all that leaves them is a choked breath, the beginning of a question, of a name. Aegon searches his mother’s gaze, attempts to find any truth, any certainty, but Alicent looks away. Her next words sound as if heard from underwater. “To keep you from certain execution when your sister ascends the Iron Throne.” 

“Do not toy with me, mother,” He means for it to sound like an accusation, like a demand, like anything but a plea, and yet that is what leaves his lips. Betrayed by the waver in his voice, by the iron grip on the glass, he goes on, “She’s touring the whole of fucking Westeros in search of a husband as we speak.”  

“She has made her choice, Aegon. It was you she chose,” She promises, and her voice is low and warm and almost comforting, so why does it feel wrong? Why does it make him want to crawl out of his own skin? “As for the tour, it will continue as scheduled. Rhaenyra deserted her own tour before time was due, she knows better than to repeat her mother’s mistake.” 

Breathable air is lacking by this chair, in this room, and he stands up, wincing at the too-loud sound of the chair scraping against the ground. 

He eyes a pitcher of wine in another table, and crosses the distance with quick strides, refilling his cup and draining half of it before turning to his mother again. 

“Why tell me now? I-If the tour is to continue,” If she can still change her mind, “Why tell me now?” 

“Your grandsire and I believed you might take this opportunity to amend your behaviors,” Alicent tells him, “So you might save your future wife the embarrassment, so you might protect her honor, seeing as you do not care for ours or your own.” 

She hasn’t said your name yet, he notices.  

Neither has he, but he has forgotten when it was the last time that he said it aloud. Intentionally, that is, he doesn’t count any time he let it slip past his lips when deep in his cups or buried inside some whore with the wrong shade of silver in her hair -and the wrong eyes, and the wrong voice, and the wrong smile, and the wrong touch-. 

Aegon can’t even remember when it was that he decided he wouldn’t utter your name again, all he knows is that through the years what started out of spite, as a way to deny the wound and the absence; has become something else. It has become to him something like a secret, something to be hoarded, to be kept his alone. 

Because there’s pride, and satisfaction, and something rotten but his, in having known you in ways no other did. In remembering you how he is certain -he has to be, it is of the few things he has left- no one has known you. 

And so he doesn’t speak your name. Lest in sharing any of the warmth of a bond long gone he loses it, dying embers to a strong wind; lest in admitting old truths he is left behind also by the part of you that he keeps safe, a secret only his. 

But now in his head resonate so loudly that they drown anything else -like thunder, like the beat of Vermithor’s wings taking you far up into the sky- his mother’s words.  

It was you she chose. 

Thinking of you has always meant the resurgence of the memory of the goodbye you refused to grant him, of waking to the reverberating cry of Vermithor as he took to the skies with you on his back and flew you away to Dragonstone; or the memory of your disappointment and your sorrow as he avoided your gaze and your words when you met again in Driftmark.  

Yet now the memory that comes forth in his mind is another. 

You smiled at him, daring and entirely too proud. But how could you not be, when you both knew he would oblige? How could you not be, when he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze from your lips since you had asked him for something as simple as a kiss? And your voice was softer than he’d expected -or perhaps he remembers it softer than it was, perhaps he sees something else when desire was all there was-, warmer than it had ever been, when you whispered, I want it to be you. 

And what harm can your name do that his own mind hasn’t inflicted upon him already? What ruin can the uttering of such a familiar word bring that the memories haven’t wrought already? 

So he says your name. Willingly, rationally, for the first time in years.  

He thought the foolish refusal to utter your name aloud kept you distant, kept the memory of you, the idea of you, as something far from him, gone from him. But he realizes now, with the shape of your name parting his lips and the taste of memories staining his tongue like ash; that you have been a distant memory, a distant dream, for a very long time. 

And the knowledge that you chose him, the helpless hope that blooms somewhere in his chest, they cannot do a thing against the horrifying certainty that the future he wanted, the future he mourned, is lost to him regardless of your choices now. 

What can he give you now, that that Tyrell knight the rumors say you were so enamored with cannot? How can he not fail whatever expectations you have of him, as he has failed all others? How could you want him now, as what he has made out of himself in these years you’ve spent apart? 

It was a comfort, he realizes now, thinking you lost. The comfort of knowing he couldn’t fail you, couldn’t earn your scorn when he had merely your indifference. 

A bitter, wretched little laugh leaves his lips then, and he turns his head -to hide, perhaps, the tears brimming in his eyes, the weakness his mother so loathes to see from him- and looks out the window towards the distant skies. 

Alicent doesn’t move, merely stands taller, prouder, and presses, 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Of course, this is what he fucking wanted, but nearly four years have gone by since he asked to be allowed to marry you and was refused. Even if some part of him wants it, wants you, still, it matters not. 

It is what he wanted, before. Before everything got worse, before everything got louder, harder. Before he got worse. Before you forgot about him. 

His mother approaches him then, and though he jumps when he sees her reach for him out of the corner of his eye, she grabs onto his forearm and speaks again, forceful, determined, 

“Listen to me, Aegon. Your sister has secured her hold on the Seven Kingdoms, both through the strength of her dragons and through her eldest children’s diplomacy with the noble Houses,” His mother tells him, but he cannot hear her, not over the warring thoughts of finally, finally, finally, and too late, too late, too late. “Rhaenyra has allowed for this to happen because she wishes to extend an offer of peace, and you cannot squander this opportunity.” 

He turns to her and asks, quietly, forlorning, “Why now?” 

“What?” 

“Why now?”

Why now, that everything is worse? Why now, that he has become this? 

For a moment, a flickering moment gone in the blink of an eye, he thinks he sees sadness, sympathy, in his mother’s warm gaze. For a moment, he believes she will offer words or touch in the way she hasn’t before, in comfort or in reassurance. 

But her gaze falls from his, and her grip on his arm -too tight, almost bruising, yet wanted, needed, if it is all he can get- loosens as she lets go of him. 

“The betrothal will be announced when the tour is over. The wedding in a week’s time from then.” She tells him, detached, not unlike a messenger delivering a missive. 

And with that she leaves his apartments. The door closing echoes in his mind, and he is left behind with a loneliness he doesn’t know where to put, and a hope he doesn’t know how not to fear. 

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!

I am endlessly fascinated by the greens and their deeply weird dynamics, and I hope I did them a modicum of justice, even when changed in this AU and despite the influence of fanon in my interpretations of them.

[babyblue711]

Surrender

Aegon II Targaryen (Modern AU) x Reader Summary: Helaena invites you to the Targaryen countryside estate for a relaxing weekend away from the city where you form an unexpected connection with her older brother, Aegon. Words: 4.2K

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Aemond being uptight A/N: I just want to give a quick shout out to the authors who have the amazing ability to write well thought out, smutty one-shots and somehow magically keep it under 3K words. YOU ALL are incredibly talented and I wish I could do the same. The smut alone is over half this fic. I tried to keep it short, y'all, I really did. Anyway, this is my first time writing for Aegon. As I said in a previous post, this story is incredibly self indulgent but thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy! 🔥 Update 7/9/24: Welcome new readers! Please don't be shy and feel free to leave me a comment! I'm still around Tumblr, just taking a break from writing at the moment but love reading your comments and thoughts about the fic! xoxo 💙 Beta read by the wonderful: @myfandomprompts

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warm water pours over your head and down your back as you rinse the shampoo out of your long hair; the fragrance of your favorite soap washing away the remnants of the day’s activities. Yet, within the confines of your mind, memories unfold like scenes from a movie.

Each moment is vivid and alive; seeing him atop his grey gelding as he waits for you to mount his brother’s tall, dark bay mare; your knees almost touching with his as your horses walk side by side down the winding trail. 

You recall the admiration in his smile as he looks over at you, observing the way you sway with your horse’s long stride with ease; your mutual love for horseback riding came as a surprise to you both. The brief ride had come to a halt all too soon, as ominous storm clouds gathered on the horizon. Just a mile away from the barn, you jointly decided to turn for home. 

You can still feel the wind in your hair as you and Aegon galloped back to the barn, trying to outrace the storm as thunder clapped in the distance. Laughter spilled from your lips at the thrill of the speed of your horse and your worries seemed to melt away with each leaping stride. It had been years since you had felt so light and carefree.

Luckily, you had arrived back at the barn just as the rain began to fall, giving your horse a grateful pat while reluctantly handing him off to the attending groom; Aegon seemed exhilarated from the ride as well as the two of you began to exchange lighthearted banter about your spontaneous adventure. Among your group, only you had embraced the opportunity to ride with him, given it was your favorite childhood pastime that you rarely got to enjoy as an adult. Everyone else had decided to retire to the house to get ready for dinner. 

Amused, you watched as he bends to pet the barn cat weaving between his legs, wondering why you had never seen this side of him before. Because he is your best friend’s older brother, a small voice answered in the back of your mind. When you first met Helaena at uni, your perception of Aegon was clouded by his reputation for being frequently drunk, arrogant, and unpredictable, and you assumed that was all there was to him. However, after spending the weekend with the Targaryen siblings at their countryside estate, you began to wonder if there was more to him than met the eye. 

Standing together in the doorway of the barn, easy conversation continued as you waited out the storm and you couldn’t help but feel impressed by Aegon's charm and clever banter, more so than you'd like to admit. The rain intensified, accompanied by a cool breeze which caused you to shiver slightly. He moved closer as if to shield you from the cool air, thunder clapping overhead. Heat radiated off his skin, giving you goosebumps as an electric charge zings through the atmosphere and you’re unsure if it's caused by the lightning or his sudden proximity. Your eyes flicked up to his face.

“Cold?” Aegon had said, his full lips curling into a perfect one-sided smirk. You locked eyes with him for a heartbeat too long and suddenly you’re melting into his dark blue gaze.

Flashing back to the present, you feel a blush bloom on your cheeks as you remember what had happened next. Still in the middle of your shower routine, you close your eyes and his face materializes in front of you again. With perfect clarity, you recall his damp blonde hair tousled by the wind, his sun-kissed skin, his warm, soft lips.  

The kiss that had transpired was completely unexpected, but had felt so absolutely right in the moment. It was tender and slow and sweet. You remembered the gentle way his hand cupped your face when he pulled away, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. Your heart pounded in your chest and words eluded you in that moment, lost in the whirlwind of emotions stirred by his kiss.

The rest of the evening had passed in a blur, the storm blowing over just as quickly as it began. Dinner with the Targaryens was always an interesting affair because their personalities were so entirely opposite of one another. The youngest sibling, Daeron, had obviously decided to take a leaf out of Aegon’s book and had already plowed through several beers by the time you walked back up to the house. Helaena immediately took you to the side to show you a picture of a ladybug she had drawn while you had been out riding, and Aemond brooded silently in the corner with a book. 

Meanwhile, you and Aegon seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to mention anything to the others which suited you just fine. The kiss had been too unexpected, too private, just meant for the two of you. His siblings did not need to know about any of his extracurricular activities, especially when it involved their sister’s best friend. 

Unbidden, butterflies had formed in your stomach for the rest of the evening and you could hardly eat. What was wrong with you? This sort of reaction was something you would expect of a silly school girl and you had to remind yourself that you were a grown ass woman and could do as you please without catching feelings. Your last relationship had ended poorly and you were still trying to recover from it. The drama, the heartbreak, the endless cycles of disappointment—it was exhausting. Before today, guys like Aegon were the exact reason you had sworn off dating and relationships, choosing to fiercely embrace your freedom and independence instead. 

Yet here you sat, unable to stop thinking about the perfect shape of Aegon’s lips. When had he changed so much? Or had he been this way all along and you just hadn’t noticed? Gone was his arrogance and, in its place, a seemingly gentle and caring soul. It was the first time in a long while that you felt a genuine connection with the opposite sex. His kiss had reminded you of the excitement of a new fling, the rush of emotions, and the intoxicating feeling of being wanted, of feeling desirable. 

Wary of these feelings, you decided to prioritize your own well-being and enjoy the moment for what it was—a fleeting spark of connection—and you wouldn't let it consume you or lead you down a path you weren't ready for.

Except, you hadn’t anticipated that Aegon wouldn’t be on the same page as you. Although both of you were resolutely acting like nothing happened, subtlety, he offered to clear your plate from the dinner table and then brought you another beer unasked, surprising you with his sudden thoughtfulness. You secretly hope his attentiveness goes unnoticed by the rest of his family. 

Luckily, Daeron is immersed in his own world of revelry, acting as if he’s in competition with himself to drink the most beer, or perhaps aiming to match Aegon’s former partying ways. Helaena, more adept at picking up social cues, pretended not to notice, but Aemond’s intense stare tells you all you needed to know of his suspicions as his eyes flicked back and forth between you two. 

At last, you excused yourself for the evening to shower and go to bed, desperate to find some peace with your inner turmoil by getting away from the group and from him. 

Now, drying your hair with a towel, you finally feel relaxed from the chance to clear your head. Dressed in a loose fitting t-shirt and shorts, you emerge from your bathroom and survey the opulent bedroom, grateful for securing one of the best rooms in this expansive house. Your balcony doors are open to let in the warm summer breeze, cooled slightly from the earlier rain. Enticed by the twinkling of the stars that you never get to see in the city, you step outside onto the balcony and gaze up at the night sky, oblivious to someone approaching you from behind. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” His deep voice sends your heart into your throat as you jump and whirl to face him.

“Aegon!” you exclaim, with a mixture of annoyance and relief. “You have to stop doing that!”

“Doing what?” he asks with a wolfish grin and you roll your eyes at his feigned innocence. 

“Surprising me unexpectedly,” you almost growl in response and his grin grows wider as he gives a nonchalant shrug. 

“Oh, I think you like surprises,” he says easily, coming to lean on the railing next to you and observing the sky. 

You roll your eyes again and choose not to comment as you look out onto the dark grounds, suddenly conscious that you aren’t wearing a bra and the air is cool. Quickly crossing your arms over your chest, you contemplate what to say to him for a moment and opt to cut to the chase. 

“What do you want, Aegon?” you say with a sigh, trying to act as if you truly didn't care. His response is immediate and direct, sending a shiver down your spine. 

"You," he purrs, his deep blue eyes seem to pierce you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. There’s a darkness in his stare, a hunger, a need, a longing. Tension crackles like lightning in the air.  

Your heart jolts with delight at his words, just as conflicting thoughts invade your mind. Your breakup was still relatively fresh and you weren’t fooled by what he meant by “you”. Is that something you were ready for? 

Instantly, your doubt is questioned by an opposing voice in your head that counters with, “But you have needs too, as much as you keep denying yourself. If you wanted to have a one night stand then, why not? He was familiar at least. You deserve to have some fun. When was the last time you had sex?” 

Mentally, you think you’ve made a good argument with yourself, until the rational side of your brain reminds you delicately of your choice to swear off men and be happy to live a life free of their soul-sucking ways, remembering the toll your ex had taken on you mentally, emotionally and physically over the years. 

But it doesn’t have to be like that anymore, the opposing voice reasons irresistibly in your other ear. You hold the power. You know your worth. 

This quick mental battle between your righteous consciousness and lustful desires happens in an instant, but Aegon looks like he knows exactly what internal struggle you are having as he steps closer to you, crowding your space without asking permission, tilting your chin up with his forefinger, the glow of the moon casting a soft light on his face. 

“Let me remind you of what you’re missing,” he whispers seductively against your lips, reading you perfectly. He begins the kiss gently, his lips exploring yours before deepening the connection with his tongue. Taking a fistful of your damp hair at the back of your neck, he holds you in place against him as he continues to kiss you passionately. You're enveloped in his taste, his scent, his presence; the musky fragrance of his shampoo only serves to heighten your desire for him.

After a few moments, you feel yourself melt into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as you push your chest into his, nipples hard underneath your t-shirt. All rational thought is wiped clean from your mind as you make your decision.

Breaking the kiss, you take his hand and lead him back inside to stand next to your high, ornate bed. Not one to waste time, lest you change your mind, you grab a fistful of his shirt, pulling it over his head as yours follows suit. His dark gaze drinks in the sight of your bare breasts and he moves towards you as if in a trance, dipping his head to clamp his lips on your collarbone. You move your neck to the side and hum low in your throat as your hands explore the muscles of his broad back.

Within a few moments, you feel him tugging at your shorts, his touch deft and confident as he loosens the drawstrings. They fall to the ground, leaving you only in your thin, silk panties. His large hands slide down your hips and over your ass, and suddenly, he picks you up and throws you effortlessly onto the bed.

Before you can fully catch your breath, Aegon is on top of you again, his body pressing against yours with a delicious weight. You feel his hunger, his desire, as he devours you with an intensity that leaves you gasping for more. Every touch, every kiss, every caress, sends electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your veins. His touch intoxicates you, numbing your mind better than any drug ever could. When was the last time someone had made you feel this good? 

An ache starts to form between your legs and you rock your hips upwards, against Aegon’s erect length through his shorts. He hums while kissing his way down your body, suckling at your breasts, skimming your ribs with his teeth, biting your hip bones as he journeys downward, devouring your curves as he goes. At last, his face rests between your legs where he gently kisses the insides of your thighs. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispers fervently as he hooks his fingers into the waistline of your panties. You lift your hips and he removes your underwear, finally bearing you to him completely. 

“So wet for me already,” he murmurs as he gazes at your sex, slick with desire for him. You start to feel self conscious at the hungry way he is looking at you, closing your knees to his line of sight. His eyes flick back up to your face, now dark pools of lust as he removes his own shorts and comes to lay naked next to you on the bed. You glance down at his cock before his lips take hold of yours again and your breath catches in your chest once more. My god, you think, was it a trick of the dim light or is he really that big? 

The thought is quickly swept from your mind as he continues kissing you for several minutes, kneading your breasts and rubbing your sides and hips and you decidedly become more impatient than him, a desperate ache between your legs and you reach for his length but he grabs your wrist firmly to stop you, smiling lightly.

“You first,” he whispers and pushes you back onto the bed so that you rest on your back; his hand trails down your stomach and runs along your inner thigh. Your breasts rise and fall with each quickened breath, anticipating what's next. 

Feeling like you burst into flames from all the sexual tension, touch me already! resonates loudly inside your head. Finally, his fingertips brush over your slick folds and he gives a low moan of appreciation. You mewl pathetically and arch your back, needing more friction as he expertly rubs circles around your bud. 

“More, Aegon, please,” you aren’t even embarrassed to be begging so early on. He chuckles lightly in response and blessedly acquiesces as he slips a finger inside you, quickly followed by another. He pumps his fingers in and out for a moment and returns to kissing you deeply. Pleasure begins to overload your brain until nothing is left but him. The smell of his skin, the taste of his tongue, the stretch of your pussy as his fingers move deep inside you, so much thicker than yours, reaching so much deeper than you ever could yourself. 

With his palm set on your bud, fingers buried deep, he sets a steady rhythm, stroking that sweet spot inside you while his face is buried into your neck. You grip the back of his hair and close your eyes, gasping as pleasure builds deep from within. It doesn’t take long until your breathing picks up as the coil tightens inside, causing you to pant and lose whatever dignity remained to you as you start to mumble incoherent nonsense, willing Aegon not to stop his pace as the pleasure mounts. 

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Aegon moans into your ear and your climax crashes over you in one enormous wave as you soar to ecstasy. You clap your hand over your mouth to stifle your wail of pleasure, just in case anyone else in the house could hear you cumming loudly. Aegon grunts from beside you as your pussy clamps down onto his fingers and you think you hear him whisper “fucking hell” very softly, but you are too lost in mindnumbing bliss to pay attention. He continues his rhythm as the waves crash over you and doesn’t stop until you have to push his hand away, on the brink of overstimulation. You lay panting next to him, trying to catch your breath, realizing it has been years since the last time a man has made you cum so hard. 

Aegon rolls onto his back and begins to stroke his length, covering himself in your slick as he waits for you to regain control of your senses. Recovering slightly, you glance down and realize you didn’t just imagine it, he really was impressively large, bigger than any of your exes. You prop yourself onto your side next to him and boldly take him in hand, causing him to smirk. As if you were drunk from the ecstasy of your peak, you can’t stop the words that tumble from your lips. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” you practically slur at him and his cheshire cat grin widens.

“I think I may have heard that before,” he quips, sounding amused, while running his nose along your jawline, his breath hot against the skin of your neck, “But don’t worry, it’ll fit.” A slight moment of panic flutters in your heart, you were no virgin but you certainly had never handled that before. 

Aegon rolls on top and you cringe inwardly, not from worry about his size but rather remembering this was your ex's favorite position because it gave him a sense of power over you. Dark memories interrupt your excitement as they flash like lightning through your mind. But that worthless fool had never made you cum as hard as Aegon just had; he normally hadn’t worried if you came at all. With an enormous effort, you push the intrusive thoughts out of your mind and focus on the present moment.

Mentally, you completely let go and surrender to Aegon... it felt so good for once. To let someone else take the lead, to let go of control, to not have to think, to not have to do anything but allow him to consume you. 

You spread your legs and welcome him eagerly as his hips come to rest lightly on yours. You squirm underneath him as your nails rake along his back and down over his ass, causing him to shudder slightly as he continues to kiss along your jawline to your earlobe.

“Aegon, I’m on birth control,” you whisper in his ear as you rub your slick folds along the length of his hard, thick cock. 

“Hmm, good,” he hums into your mouth as he grinds back against you, “Because I wanna see your pussy overflow with my cum,” he inserts his tongue into your mouth for emphasis, swallowing your heady moans. 

You lift your hips as you feel Aegon guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, unable to stop your gasp as he pushes slowly inside. The intense stretch wipes everything from your mind and if you were being honest with yourself, it feels like the first time all over again, albeit more exciting now. Holy shit…holy fucking shit! is all you can think as he slides in slowly and you wonder if not having sex for a long time makes you a born-again virgin. 

Aegon, to his credit, doesn’t thrust roughly into you, rocking gently instead, getting a little deeper with each stroke as you attempt to breathe through your nose and will yourself to relax and open up for him. At last, he bottoms out inside of you and you’ve never felt so full before in your life. He rolls his hips into yours and you moan at the sensation as his thick cock dragging along your soft velvet walls. You pant and mewl underneath him, hands wrapping around his biceps that have your head caged in. After a few slow strokes, you find yourself adjusting to his size and you can’t help but beg for more.

“More, Aegon, please - harder,” you whine. 

“Impatient, are we?” he teases and picks up the pace but only a little and you know he’s savoring the moment. He pulls himself almost all of the way out before sliding back in with long, slow, deep strokes. Your hips start to rise to meet his own, willing him to go faster. On the next stroke his hips snap into yours, causing you to gasp at the pleasure that courses through your slick pussy, sending electric currents through your chest as he starts to earnestly fuck you into the bed. 

Unable to control the uninterrupted moans of pleasure, you cover your mouth again, thankful, at least, that the heavy framework of the bed is sturdy and does not make so much as a squeak despite his deep thrusts. He frowns down at you, roughly removing your hand from your mouth in displeasure, squeezing your wrist harshly, but the pain only enhances your pleasure. 

“Stop doing that. I want to hear you scream,” he says gruffly through puffs of his own heavy breathing. 

Suddenly, he pulls out and leans back on his heels, flipping you over and bringing your ass in the air. He re-enters you and grabs your hair, holding your head back as he roughly thrusts into you from behind. You're breathless at the unexpected change in position but moan lustfully as he slaps your ass hard with a large hand, releasing his grip on your hair to take hold of your hips, pistoning even faster. The sound of skin slapping together erotically fills the room as pleasure coils deep in your belly. 

“That’s it, babygirl, taking my cock so well,” he growls as his hands squeeze your ass cheeks so hard you think you’ll have bruises. 

You whine noisily at his praise while reaching your hand down to play with your bud, knowing you can cum again in this position with a little extra friction. Aegon can feel your pussy fluttering around his cock as your breathing picks up again, another climax approaching quickly. He grunts and pants as he nears his own release.

As your walls spasm around him, you cry out again, your orgasm ripping through your core, clenching down on his thick length. He groans as he rides out your peak for as long as he can, thrusting harshly into you one last time as he pours himself deep within. You can feel his thick cock pulsate inside you, milked by your clenching pussy, and find that you love the thought of him filling you with his spend. 

As he withdraws, he pulls your ass cheeks apart, admiring the mess he’s made of you, enjoying the sight of his cum leaking from your cunt. At last, you collapse onto the bed, utterly spent but entirely well-fucked, perhaps the most satiated you had ever been in your whole life. 

You lay, breathing heavily, trying to regain your strength, when strong arms come to cradle you as Aegon scoops you up and lays you gently back on the bed in a more dignified position, pulling the covers up and over you.

He slips into bed beside you and snuggles close. In comfortable silence, you both savor the intimate connection, skin to skin, listening to the rhythm of his breathing and the steady beat of your heart. Nestled securely in his embrace, your eyelids begin to droop, and just as you teeter on the edge of sleep, a gentle kiss brushes across your forehead.

Daylight filters through the balcony's glass doors, gently rousing you from sleep. It takes a moment for the vivid memories of last night to flood your mind. You find yourself still unclothed under the sheets, yet the bed is empty beside you. Letting out a soft groan, you stretch your sore muscles, contemplating how you were going to face Aegon that day. Are you both going to continue to pretend like nothing happened?

Automatically, you reach for your phone on the nightstand and see there’s a text, not from Aegon but from Aemond. Confusion swirls in your mind as you tap it open. 

[Aemond]: Look. My bedroom is right next to yours. Could you keep it down next time?

You could practically feel his irritation and you blush, mortified. Fuck, had you really been that loud? You knew the answer to that was a resounding “yes” because you hated being quiet, but you had really hoped the expansive house would have muffled some of the noise. Shit.

Feeling guilty, you start to type back an apology but then decide sex is nothing to be ashamed of and you were going to have fun teasing rigid, proper Aemond. 

[Y/N]: Join us next time, then? 😉

>>>> Part 2

A/N: It was the HOTD trailer that pushed me over the edge for Aegon, but y'all can thank these photos from TGC's IG for the inspiration for this story.

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Have you had enough?

Targaryen reader x Aemond Targaryen x Aegon Targaryen.

Your husband and brother, Aemond, have been taking everything that belonged to Aegon. You're tired of it, the drop that spilled the glass was Aegon's incident. Your brother, the one who you actually love, badly injured, that was the end of your patience.

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to, I took them from the Tumblr blogs: bbygirl-aemond / Winterswake/ tarth. Grammatical and spelling errors, I haven't watched this chapter of HOTD yet, I just needed to take the idea out of my mind so I can continue with a new chapter of the story (By fire and heart).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Everybody running and walking from one room to another, you didn't understand at first why all the scandal until you saw a group of guards carrying your brother.

Aegon and you were close, spending much time together which your mother clearly didn't see with good eyes, you loved him in the way you couldn't love your husband.

Aemond took you as a wife and treated you with respect but not love, he never loved you, he simply took you because both were single and your little brother was far away from home to save you from that terrible unhappy marriage, it was only you and him, when he heard about your little secret romance with Aegon, he made you his wife before you could dishonor yourself that was his argument, but the truth was he did it for the simple fact to not give Aegon the satisfaction to also be the owner of you, or your body, silly Aemond never thought what actually mattered it was your heart, Aegon was deep inside your heart. A thousand men could be between your legs but only one could have your heart, loyalty and devotion.

You walked behind the guards questioning what happened. None of them could answer you, once they're in the king's chambers, one of the masters asks you to not interfere and wait out of the room.

- My princess, please you have to wait and let us work. In your conditions the least you need is stress.

You're going to respond when you see Aemond walking inside, he doesn't even stop to see you, you're sure he didn't listen to what the master told you, he walks directly to Aegon's bed. You walk and stay behind him, your tears falling as soon as you see your beloved brother, his precious face now half burned as much as the rest of his body, you're sure Aemond was behind all that, you left the room looking for Ser Criston, you found him on the way to your mother's chambers.

- What happened?

- My princess, I don't know, everything was fast, I just saw the king and his dragon falling.

- Don't dare to lie to me. Did my husband have something to do with this?

He doesn't talk but silently nod at you. Your body is burning with rage, you're furious you would love to burn your husband alive. His thirst for... power? Revenge for the traumas of childhood? Whatever it was, has taken it too far. Your nephews death and now your brother fighting for his life, Rhaenyra claiming the throne, dealing with a war and the pain of her newborn and Lucerys deaths, the poor Helaena trying to accept her son's death too and now carrying with a husband who probably will end as your father ended, in that bed looking the days and nights go until the gods have mercy and let him die.

You've been avoiding Aemond since they arrived, you spent much of your time with Aegon, Helaena doesn't complain, she's okay with it, she always knew your feelings for her husband, she's glad you're taking care of him and occasionally visit the king's chambers to help you or at least to talk with you. Even your mother visited Aegon, but there were no signs of Aemond.

Until one evening, you were holding Aegon's hand, whispering something close enough to him hoping he somehow could listen to what you were sharing with him, when the doors of his room opened, you did not see him but you were sure it was Aemond for the sound of his boots on the floor, you know his way to walk by heart.

- Ao spend olvie jēda kesīr (you spend much time here)

- Se ao spend olvie jēda sitting va zȳhon dēmalion (And you spend much time sitting on his throne)

You don't Even look at him, you're still holding Aegon's hand, contemplating what once was his face.

- Perhaps my wife could support me as much as she's supporting our brother. Your devotion to him is admirable, but it's what I'm expecting you to give me, not to him.

- Why would I support you? All the atrocities you've been causing and you expect me to congratulate you, to love you?

- Are you accusing me of something, wife?

His jaw tensed, his eye looks at you full of anger.

- Don't pretend you're innocent, I know you. You always wanted to take Aegon's place. You always take what is not yours, tell me husband, have you had enough? What else do you want?

Before he can argue again, Aegon opens his eyes, with the few strength he still has, he squeezes your hand.

Aemond notices it and pushes you aside, he starts to talk with Aegon, asking him what he remembers, he insists it wasn't his dragon who attacked him. Aegon simply says he doesn't remember anything, but you know he's lying, Aegon always has been good to keep himself safe, his facility to preserve his own survival and right now his only chance to survive it was to pretend he did not remember what happened.

Aemond was not going to leave the discussion in the air. He left but you're sure he will be back to try to make you regret your accusations.

Just as you predicted, At the hour of the owl, he appeared in your chambers, you were awake, looking through your window, you know how much he hates your indifference against him.

- So, what else will you take from our brother this time?

You say without any worry. Aemond walks until he's right behind you, you can feel his jaw against your head.

- What he expected to claim too. You.

He whispered while placing his hands around your waist, you couldn't contain your laughing, Aemond confusion made it harder to keep. You laughed loudly on his face, you are now face to face with your husband, he has never seen that look, your eyes darkened and your smile was full of evil, giving him a small kiss on the lips, murmuring almost whispering.

- Oh Aemond, do you seriously think I was still a pure untouched little princess?

He stepped back, his face doesn't show any emotion but you can feel his blood boiling.

- I am pregnant.

- Liar. I made everything to be sure he would not put a finger on you.

- Ask the master, I'm waiting for my first child.

Seeing his body tensed and full of anger brings you a new kind of feeling, it's an addictive pleasure you didn't know could exist.

-You know what makes it funnier? Even if one day I have your child, he will be just like you.

- What do you mean?

- A Second son who will not inherit anything. Or even better you will never have a child with me because I will prefer to be burned alive before giving birth to your children.

He quickly takes you by the neck and slams you against the wall, pressing his body against yours, even with the lack of air in your lungs, the pleasure of seeing him frustrated makes you feel alive, excited. He released you and left the room without saying more.

Once you take some air, you smile to yourself, your husband and his poor try to keep you away from Aegon, expecting to have you all for himself, but not even your body belongs to Aemond, he never thought he would be so frustrated about such a little thing like that, not having your love or your respect was the last thing he thought he would care about, the last thing he would desire to have more than anything else.

[pinkykats-place]

Aegon Ⅱ Targaryen x Reader Insert Fics

Tumblr HotD Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories below are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Reader tends to be female.

Gif not mine.

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author by liking, commenting & reblogging the original fic!

*************************************

Someone. Anyone.

Aegon x Reader

SUMMARY: Aegon has waited his entire life for someone to care.

the summer islands

Aegon Ⅱ x fem!Reader

Summary: In a failed attempt of escaping, Aegon accidentally arrives in an unknown island where a lovely and lonely girl lives.

Safe In Your Arms

Aegon Ⅱ Targaryen x fem!Reader

Summary:  There is only one person whom the Prince can find comfort with.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬

aegon targaryen ii x fem!reader

summary: aegon seeks comfort from you

You’re Mine

Aegon Ⅱ Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary: On Aegon's name day, you spent time dancing with everyone. But there is someone who is always watching you.

healing sessions

Aegon x sister!Reader

summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit

Aegon The Burnt

Aegon x sister!Reader

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

part 1

aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader

COMFORT ME, STAY WITH ME

part 2

helaena targaryen x targaryen! reader, aegon targaryen x targaryen! reader

the ones we love (will destroy us)

aegon ii targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

You Can Do It

Aegon Ⅱ Targaryen x sister-in-law!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra)

Summary: The twins are born. Aemond isn't by your side, but Aegon is.

The Heavenly Ivory Touch of Your Hand 

aegon ii targaryen x aemond's wife!reader

Summary: The news of your husband's infidelity had driven you into Aegon's arms, your growing companionship tethering on the edge of decency.

Aegon The Burnt

Aegon ii Targaryen x sister!Reader

warnings: infidelity (reader is Aemond's wife), incest, spoilers of s2ep5

𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

Aegon x half-sister!Reader

Summary: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘝𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘙𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘺𝘳𝘢'𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

Lose Control

Aegon Ⅱ x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aegon knew it would never work. But did he care? Of course not. You were one of few members of his family who didn't look at him like he was a failure. Was it love? He didn't know. But he never felt whole without you.

Survival is Victory

Aegon x niece!reader

Summary: As Rhaenyra's only daughter, you were married to Aegon to secure peace after the Dance. You soon realized that in order to insure your survival and that of your younger brothers, you would need to win the king's affection.      

The Rats 

Aegon ii Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader 

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

The Albatross 

Aegon x Velaryon/Strong!Reader

Summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child, and his entire world changes. 

Marry Me

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon (Strong)!Fem!Reader

Summary : Rhaenyra’s daughter is off limits, but Aegon won’t allow her to marry anyone else.

My heart is yours, as yours is mine

Aegon Targaryen x Hightower!Fem!Reader

Gevie

Aegon x betrothed!Reader

summary: you finally agree to go for a ride on sunfyre and your betrothed certainly makes it worth your while

Taste of You.

Aegon x wife!Reader

Warnings - mdni, lactation kink, PRAISE, p in v sex, breeding. Aegon is so in love

I Won't Allow It

Aegon x fem!pregnant wife!Reader

Summary: Aegon knows the risks of childbirth and is thrilled when (Y/n) sails through labour. But when she takes a bad turn, he doesn't know how to cope. He won't live without her.

Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Summary: The days following Rooks Rest were spent by Aegon’s side and no where else.

Midway

Aegon x wife!Reader 

Summary: You did not choose to be Aegon's wife, and yet you seem to be the only one choosing to be there for him during his recovery.

Reward (nsfw)

Aegon x wife!Reader

Summary: riding a needy aegon and he looks at you with tears in his eyes and keeps mumbling praises against your skin

Midway

Aegon x wife!Reader

Summary: You did not choose to be Aegon's wife, and yet you seem to be the only one choosing to be there for him during his recovery.

My King

Aegon x wife!Reader

Take What You Need

Sub!Aegon x wife!Reader

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇, 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄.

aegon ii targaryen x wife!reader

SYNOPSIS: in the wake of his burning, aegon’s recovery is marked by rage and insecurities. he pushes you away, but it is your comforting embrace that he desires above all else.

Shield for a Heart

King Aegon x wife reader

Summary: As your husband Aegon ascends the throne, you can no longer bear his indifference and beseech him to consummate your fruitless union. His self-loathing makes the freshly crowned king crumble in your arms.

Firstborn

Aegon x wife!Reader

Summary: Yours was an arranged marriage, and Aegon meets his daughter for the first time.

Appetite

Chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader

Pretty Boy

Aegon Targaryen x wife!Reader

From hate to love… or something like that 

Aegon II Targaryen x fem! reader

Soft NSFW sub!aegon

Aegon Targaryen x Reader Masterlist

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Could I request Aemond x a civilian reader that’s more or less been adopted into Rhaenyra’s family? Like she originally grew up on a farm of some sorts so she still has a lot to learn, a quick talker and often somethings blurting out things that she should think about before saying.

She’s with Jace and Luke when the family comes back for the lil “family reunion,” and ends up seeing Aemond for the first time during his training. She’s already been made aware of who he is, but she certainly isn’t expecting a hot blonde. Which prompts her to blurt out “you didn’t tell me your uncle was hot” during that tense little stare down. Everyone is mortified, but instead of being irrated, Aemond finds her boldness amusing, and her innocent oblivious quite cute. And having there own little dance alongside Hal and Jace during that rare moment of peace.

I just think Aemond deserves some love

The farm princess and the rough sapphire

Aemond x civilian reader warning : fluff, kiss, comfort, dysfunctional family, no use of Y/n Summary : In the entire Targaryen dynasty history, there has only been one record of an adoption from outside the family, a former civilian child now grown into the mockingly named Farm Princess finds herself with her adoptive sibling at the royal court and is not ashamed to admit her admiration and especially feelings for a certain one-eyed prince...where will this lead?

info : I'm so sorry that you had to wait so long dear anon i hope you like the story, it was really really fun to write and others too have fun reading and thank you for the request :)

ps : Aemond deserves every love and Jace+Hel were so cute

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The dnyaste of the dragonrider family of the house of targaren was no millennia old, starting with Daenerys the dreamer, the woman who would change a whole continent in the future with their reign and the dragons the family brought with her.

From the initial three conquerors, the battles began within their own family and continued for more or less a century after Ageon's conquest until the reign of King Viserys, the first of his name, and his second wife Alicent.

Slowly they began to fporm themselves there, but this was a matter for the future, whereas his daughter, the jewel of the realm, had problems of her own in love and at court. The former friendship long forgotten, her kind heart had found feelings and emotions in motherhood when she gave birth to her first son Jacaerys, only a few years younger than his uncle Aegon, her half-brother.

But shortly thereafter, as the princess established her own lineage, uprisings began outside King's Landing, uprisings of renegades of savages ravaging the inhabitants, matters the crown would settle with common soldiers, except that they were not common people.

Wild dragons ravaged the land, and village after village came to claim their people, ,,We want compensation! Someone must do something!" cried the crowds of commoners and for the first time in history, the king was stricken by his illness, Rhaenyra turned away from her former friend, now queen, and her stepmother, the Targayren princess and heiress to the throne won the hearts of all as she flew to the burning remains on her golden dragon Syrax and took from them the one survivor.

Her adopted daughter, the third princess of the realm after Helaena, the farm princess, was given the title of a girl of the same young age as her son, but a child who had had different beginnings.

A girl who had looked at her with wide eyes and had given orders to Syrax to give to the dragon and Rhaenyra couldn't help but laugh, ,,You are quite a dragon" she is said to have said when she had put the child on her dragon and had gnawed the streets of King's Landing.

The people loved her new princess and treated her not only with love but also with hope for better times...but all this was a long time ago seconds, days, months and years turned into another decade and after a long time the naughty child grew into a pretty but not quite noble young woman.

,,Who needs dragons when you have the people and a pitchfork?" she had once said as she watched her brothers tame Vermax and Arrax and Aegon and Helaena also got their dragons, her mother had Syrax and her uncle had Caraxes even the princess Rhaenys had Meylys and her adoptive father had Seasmoke only she didn't have a dragon but somehow she didn't want one either.

She didn't have dragon blood, she wasn't even a bastard child she was adopted through her body so she knew the blood flowed from farmers who had been there for generations and were in the service of the crown she was the highest of the people on the streets but a dragon no.

,,Remember brothers, one should never underestimate the population like the ravens and the grain" she had said to Jace and Luce who were training the komandos with their dragons in Valyrian which she understood but hardly cared about how? She realized that she loved her family above all and was grateful to them.

Rhaenyra had saved her life, but politically or even family-wise she was worthless, ,,You are my daughter, my flame, my pretty dragon, don't you dare think otherwise" her mother always instructed her and gave her small gifts in the form of dragon or flame embroidered clothes and as much as she wore them for her family she also accepted the simpler clothes or those on which grain, wagons and other simple things were embroidered.

But as much as this life was beautiful, it was different when they went back to the city that had been the greatest for her since she could remember, ,,King's Landing! A disgusting city but my home!" she exclaimed as she clung to Rhaenyra's back as she flew towards the city with her mother she usually rode with the heiress to the throne her mother wanted to make her feel like a dragon at least and she enjoyed this with cheers and thankful hugs.

,,There's our home," Rhaenyra murmured and had to smile slightly when they flew over the dragon pit a few months later and landed there, but this was also quickly resolved and before the Targayren could pay attention to her daughter, the young woman had already disappeared on a horse she had been given as compensation for a dragon.

,,I'm in the inner courtyard, mother, don't worry!" she had shouted before the black horse had left and Rhaenyra could only shake her head slightly and face her family while her daughter searched for her brothers Jace and Luce.

It took a few minutes to get from the dragon pit to the inner courtyard, but on the way she was recognized by some of the inhabitants, who greeted her and enjoyed a little of the city's interior. It was really good to see familiar simplicity again and not always just Dragonstone, the castle of "her" ancestors, at least the ancestors who made everything possible for her.

With a grateful thought to her loving mother, however, she reached the courtyard and stopped her horse which was taken from her by a stable boy, but looking around she soon saw the crowd gathered around someone and she caught sight of two dark heads of hair, ,,Dragon tamer brothers! I've missed you!" she shouted stormily.

She hurried to the weapons display where she embraced her brothers, they had all grown older since the days of toys and wooden swords, they each carried real steel and she also preferred to have at least one bread knife hidden in her pencil, an old habit.

,,How nice that you're here, dear sister," Jace said and Lucerys nodded in agreement, the girl was thrilled to have someone else here, an adopted princess and three bastard children was a daring combination but they had somehow managed to keep the rumors at bay so far.

Just as she was about to vent about Jace's hair, she heard the clapping and tense murmuring and turned to the crowd standing around the two fighting, ,,Say, who's fighting there? " she asked and pointed with her finger, which was immediately taken down by Jace who tried to make them all look good, ,,Ser Criston Cole from the Kingsguard and our uncle Aemond" Luce said, who must have been watching the situation closely while his older brother was still at arms.

,,Aemond, you say," she murmured to her thoughts, vaguely remembering the quiet boy with whom she had spoken and played from time to time until they chased each other with earthworms and other crawling things and Alicent the queen stopped them because a peasant daughter should not play with a prince, but she did not stop her from going up and watching with her brothers. And what she saw amazed her.

Gone was the little boy, a young man stood there with long straight Targaryen light hair, a dark eye patch that hid the injury he had received from his brother. Fine sharp features and a lean but muscular body she could frame where the fabric allowed.

He was a god in her eyes, ,,You didn't tell me your uncle was hot," she simply spoke her thoughts openly as Aemond twirled the sword around as she was commanded to do so but his gaze, the gaze of his violet eyes was clear on her and the smile seemed almost pleased and amused at the same time.

A few of the crowd snapped indignantly at such vulgarity while Jace made himself small and Luce tried to hide slightly under his coat. So much for not doing anything.

But this seemed to be just the beginning when they were invited to a family dinner a few hours after the "incident" in the courtyard. Everyone was supposed to be on their best behavior, a time of peace in what was probably the last few months for her adoptive grandfather, her king, whom she never called her grandfather even though he had always insisted on it.

Viserys always had a smile for her, no matter when she told him about simple farm things or excitedly about armor, he liked his adoptive princess and did not despise her, ,,I am glad to see my family, my whole family here, living and happy like this, an old man who cares a lot," he finished his speech and even if he seemed to be in pain, it was something that made her smile, she was glad that Viserys thought he appreciated it and she held out a goblet to her king for the symbolic toast, which Aegon answered with an almost mocking laugh.

The prince had probably already poured too much into the cup anyway, she smelled his alcoholic fumes at several hundred meters and her comment, ,,Maybe you should be in a barrel instead of just the cup" only seemed to have pissed him off more and he gave her a warning look and tried her other family members instead.

While she had initially chatted with Baela and Rhaena about fishing and ships, she had given Lucerys courage as they drank and Jace had teased her about his hairstyle, she barely noticed the looks from the Queen, the Hand and Aegon. Looks of distaste, looks of no acceptance, ,,A truly exceptional round, Lord Husband," the brown-haired woman muttered, earning a warning look from Rhaenyra, who was about to stand up for her daughter when Jace slammed on the table over Aegon's comment.

The circle seemed to fall silent and again they didn't quite know what was going to happen next, ,,A round of peasant blood," Aegon muttered into his goblet, rolling his eyes and looking a lot more like his mother.

However, only seconds later he choked on it as the said farm princess threw a piece of bread at him and he looked like he was about to walk over to her when Aemond stood in his way and pushed his brother aside to get closer to the princess. She gave Aegon one last scowl of surprise before looking to Aemond in wonder, ,,Would my dear princesses dance with me?" he asked, seeming to want to join his sister and her nephews who were dancing.

Accepting his offer with a nod, ,,I'd love to, Aemond," she smiled at him dnakably and let herself be pulled out onto the open floor, about to start something wilder when she suddenly felt his other hand on her hip, paused, looked at him a little uncertainly and leaned towards him, ,,I can't do the Targaryen dance" she whispered and heard him smirk a little, seeing that he was no longer wearing an eye cap the darkness of his sapphire eye fascinated her and only made him look even more beautiful ,,Don't worry let me be your leading chariot" he said with a nod and seemed at least relieved that she didn't find him ugly like other ladies-in-waiting at the castle.

Relaxing, he began to move slightly, his own steps a veritable dragon dance as she guided the fire that seemed to be the sword he gently wielded around her, her dress making the movements look more fluid. ,,The sapphire suits you, Aemond," she murmured softly, feeling the brief twitch of his hand, his eye glancing briefly to the ground and lingering briefly on her lips before he thanked her as he spun her around and the two of them attempted a little dragon dance of their own, somewhat like Jace and Helaena.

Aemond with his polite dragon dance and she with her wild twirls and wide arm movements as they all danced together at the village festivals it was funny and their laughter could be heard over and over again as they touched hands and completely ignored the looks of the others that went from fascination to pride until the piece was over.

They both found each other one last time and held each other as the music became a little quieter again and they looked at each other, Aemond bowed and placed a kiss on the back of her hand, a gesture that made her heart beat faster and she stifled a giggle.

Before she simply responded, ,,Thank you my rough sapphire," she whispered and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before sitting back down and taking a large sip from her goblet to calm her nerves but at least she had behaved in her own way.

And who knows, maybe the farm princess would end up with a dragon after all, a rough dragon from Saphier who appreciated her wares and together they could form a kingdom of outsiders together in love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Cozened Indigo - Part Three

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of murder, dark themes, smut, dubious consent, allusions to no consent. Dead dove; do not eat. Dear god, please mind the tags. Word count: ~9.6k

Summary: The article goes live and a verdict is delivered. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I have put my journalism degree to use here, to ensure as much accuracy as possible. However, as Westeros is a fictional place, I have warped certain laws and regulations regarding court reporting for the purpose of the story. Please suspend your disbelief for the sake of a fictional tale. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Rhaenyra has gotten wind of the fact that Aemond has spoken to the press, so now she’s doing an interview too – with White Knight Magazine.”

Larys’ words play on a loop in her mind as she sits heavily in her office chair, dread forming a pit in her stomach as anxiety flutters unbridled within her chest. Her interviews with Aegon and Helaena are set for tomorrow, she still has to do her background research on them both, alongside transcribing all of her interviews with Aemond. With just two weeks to do it all, and with Rhaenyra’s pending interview looming over it, it feels too huge an obstacle to overcome. She is being set up for failure, made all the more humiliating by the fact that the feature from the opposing side is to be featured in the publication that effectively put an end to her career. It has to be deliberate, there is no way it's a coincidence.

It’s not until she sees the droplet of moisture splatter upon her desk that she realises she’s crying. Burying her face in her hands, she draws in a shuddering breath, attempting to pull herself together.

Not here. Not in the office,

“Everything okay?”

Startled, her head snaps up to look at Royce, his features pinching into a look of concern as she sniffles and hurriedly wipes at her eyes.

“Doesn’t everyone cry at their desk occasionally?” She jokes, attempting to play it off with a watery laugh.

“Let’s step into my office,” he responds softly, not giving her a chance to reply as he turns and walks away.

She sighs, tipping her head back and uttering a quiet “fuck” before following him.

“Want to tell me what’s really going on?” Royce says, perching on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, as she closes the door behind her.

The weariness that has weighed upon her since her discovery of the upcoming Targaryen trial settles over her with a heavy finality, as she meets his gaze with exhausted resignation. 

“I can’t do this, Royce. Put me back on the Flea Bottom curfew piece.”

“What? Why?!” He narrows his eyes, leaning forward slightly.

“Rhaenyra - Aemond’s half sister - is doing an interview of her own.”

“So?”

“With White Knight Magazine.”

“Ah.”

“The deadline is too tight, I’ll never be finished in time.” She sags against the office door, wrapping her arms around herself.

“What’s the hold up?”

Exasperatedly, she drags a hand through her hair. “I have all of my interviews with Aemond to transcribe still, and that’s before I even begin writing the piece. On top of that, I now have to interview Aegon and Helaena, and I–”

“Woah”, Royce interrupts, “the brother and sister have agreed to be interviewed by you?”

“Yes, tomorrow, and I haven’t even started my background research on them yet. What am I going to do?!”

Royce reaches behind him, lifting the box of Kleenex from his desk. He gently tosses it towards her and she catches it, smiling gratefully as she plucks one out to dab at her eyes and nose.

“You’re going to go home, and do your background research, and prepare for your interviews tomorrow. You can leave your transcription with me. I’ll do it for you.”

“You?” She looks at him wide eyed with incredulity, balling the tissue up in her fist. “You didn’t even want me working on this story in the first place, why would you want to help me?”

“It’s not entirely selfless”, he says with a shrug, “this feature will be huge for The Gazette, it’s in my best interests to make sure you get it done.”

“Makes sense,” she admits with a nod. “Thank you.”

“Send me your audio files,” he instructs, pushing himself back into a standing position, “and then go home and get to work. Your runny mascara is bad for office morale.”

Face given a thorough clean with a wet wipe, a few hours later she sits curled up on her sofa, her gaze fixed intently on her laptop. Royce offering to do her transcription for her has shifted some of the burden from her, and she feels lighter as she clicks through each of the articles she finds regarding Helaena and Aegon Targaryen.

Helaena seems like an anomaly within the family, a blinding white beacon of joy within an ocean of misery. She is heavily involved in environmental conservation, an activist for animal rights and has received several awards for her charitable work. If she has anything at all positive to say about her younger brother, then it would be a huge help to the article.

Aegon, on the other hand, is not quite so impressive. There is little to no evidence that she can find which alludes to his morality or personality, though if the photographs splashed across trashy tabloids of him drunkenly falling out of nightclubs, and parading down the street with an ever changing array of women on his arm are anything to go by, then it’s not good. There’s a small article regarding his brief stint in a rehab facility, which offers a glimmer of hope, but only the interview itself will tell for certain.

As her taxi drives slowly up the expansive and seemingly never ending driveway of the Targaryen-Hightower mansion the following morning, she is momentarily stunned by the grandiosity of it all. She had known the family was rich, but this seems obscene. The property is located on a hill in the centre of King’s Landing, which overlooks the city, serving as an unnecessary physical reminder of how far above everyone else the family is, or at least considers themselves to be.

Her driver had been buzzed through the main gate via an intercom on the drive up to the house, so she is surprised to find no one is waiting for her once she steps out of the car. Standing in front of the large, forest green front door she lifts the ring pull of the bronze dragon head knocker and raps it against the wood three times.

She shuffles from foot to foot, anxiously waiting. A full minute passes and she is about to knock again, when the door swings open. A mop of disheveled, wavy, silver blonde hair and tired blue eyes greet her as she looks into the face of Aegon Targaryen.

As her gaze travels downwards she sees he is dressed in only a pair of low riding grey jogging bottoms and a dark green robe, which isn’t tied. She falters, blinking rapidly and clearing her throat, as she looks back at his face. The lazy smirk painted across his features is unnerving.

“Mr. Targaryen?”

“Aegon,” he corrects her. “You the reporter?”

She nods, shifting her bag to the opposite shoulder. “Right…Aegon. Am I too early? Larys said 11am.”

He gives a slight shrug. “I must have gotten carried away with my beauty sleep. Guess you’d better come in.”

Aegon leaves the door open, padding on bare feet through the foyer. She follows him, eyes wide as she takes in the opulence of the high ceilings and expensive art that adorns the walls.

He leads her through to the kitchen, opening the double doors of a large silver refrigerator.

“Get you a beer?” He asks, pulling a bottle out before biting the cap off with his teeth.

She winces. “Not for me, thanks, bit early.”

He takes a drink, nodding as he mulls over her response. “I’d offer you a bloody mary, but we’re out of tomato juice.”

She is about to laugh, until she sees that he’s sincere, so bites back the urge. “Honestly, I’m fine. Got a water bottle in my bag.”

“Fair enough,” he utters, leaning forward on his elbows on the kitchen island as he sets the bottle down. “So, how does this work?”

“I just want to ask a few questions about your brother, Aemond. Have you got a place you’d like to go to do that?”

“Why not right here?”

She raises her eyebrows slightly, taken aback by the informality, before nodding. He watches her intently as she rummages in her bag, taking out her dictaphone and placing it on the granite surface that separates them. “Will we not be interrupted?”

“Nah, mum’s gone with grandad to visit Aemond. That’s why Larys set up the interview for today. They’re pissed off that he’s spoken to the press, so better for you to be here when they aren’t.”

She purses her lips, pushing down her unease, before nodding towards the dictaphone. “I need to record this. That okay?”

His gaze rests upon the recording device for a moment, before he takes another long swig of his beer. “Yeah,” he finally says.

She pulls out a wooden bar stool, sitting upon it before she presses record. “We’ll start with your childhood. What was Aemond like growing up?”

“A twat,” Aegon shoots back quickly, causing the corners of her mouth to turn up into the faintest of smiles.

“Can you elaborate?”

Aegon sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He just…took everything really seriously. He never had a sense of humour about anything.”

“So, you didn’t like him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying?”

“He’s my brother, I love him, we’re just very different.”

“Different how?”

“Aemond is ambitious, he’s hard working. I’m not, I just want…”

She raises an eyebrow as he trails off. “You just want..?”

“To be happy,” he mutters.

“And are you?”

He scoffs. “I thought this interview was about my brother?”

“Do you think your brother was ever happy growing up?”

“He had his eye carved out of his skull when he was ten, of course he wasn’t!”

“By your nephew, Lucerys?”

Aegon’s brow furrows with anger, his tone dark and clipped. “Little shit got what was coming to him.”

Her breath catches in her throat, her blood turning icy in her veins as she stares at him, wide eyed. Slowly, with a shaky hand she reaches forward to press the stop button on the dictaphone. 

Aegon drains the remnants of his beer, heavily setting the bottle back down and lowering his gaze as he grips the edge of the kitchen island.

When she eventually finds her voice, it comes out as a strained whisper. “Do you think Aemond killed him on purpose?”

His mouth quirks, eyes obscured slightly by the hair that has fallen into his face as he looks slowly back up at her. The air feels thick, and she realises she’s holding her breath as she waits for him to respond.

“Is this the lady that’s here to interview us?” A quiet voice comes from behind her.

She jumps, turning on her stool to look at the woman that hovers in the kitchen entryway, dressed in a white vest top and powder blue harem pants. Her hair falls in soft, loose, silver blonde waves almost to her waist, her eyes hold a faraway, dreamy quality. This must be Helaena.

Aegon nods. “Yeah, she was just interviewing me.”

“Oh…” Helaena deflates slightly, clasping her hands in front of. “I’ve interrupted.”

Her brother shakes his head, pushing away from the counter and walking from the kitchen. “No. No, you didn’t. We’d just finished, all yours.”

She watches him retreat, before turning her focus to his sister.

Well, that’s the end of that then.

“Hi,” Helaena says with a soft smile, extending her hand as she steps forward. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

She takes her hand, feeling the Targaryan woman noticeably flinch at the contact, giving it the briefest of shakes before letting go. “You must be Helaena.”

“I am,” she says nodding, clutching her hands in front of her once more. “Sorry about Aegon, he just has a hangover…he always has a hangover.”

Her gaze turns sad and she looks away. For a few seconds it seems as if she’s not even there anymore, and she wonders where she’s gone, before Helaena returns to the present and smiles once more.

“Shall we go up to my room?”

She trails after her up the stairs, looking at the antiquities that decorate the vast amount of space that makes up the house, until they reach Helaena’s bedroom. Stepping inside she is taken aback by the brightness of it, it feels like she has entered another universe separate from the darkened surrounds of the rest of the mansion.

Floral wallpaper adorns the walls, with a variation of frames containing pin mounted insects and butterflies. She turns to a shelving unit, picking up an expensive looking crystal beetle to examine it as it sparkles in the sunlight.

“This is beautiful,” she muses more to herself than Helaena.

“You like it?” She asks, causing her to look up, suddenly embarrassed at having handled a stranger’s belongings without asking.

“Sorry,” she replies, flustered, placing the beetle back on its shelf. “Never seen anything like it.”

“You can have it if you want,” Helaena quips with an easy shrug.

She blinks rapidly, unsure if she has heard her correctly. “Pardon?”

“If you like it, you should have it,” she tells her, sitting on the edge of her bed.

It’s a sweet gesture that comes from a place of childlike innocence, but is also indicative of how shockingly out of touch wealth makes people. Of course she doesn’t mind if she gives away something so expensive, not when the resource is there to easily replace it.

“That’s very kind, but I couldn’t,” she says, taking out her recorder. “I don’t want to intrude upon too much of your day. Shall we get started?”

Helaena is easier to interview than Aegon had been. She speaks kindly of Aemond, and as she listens she finds herself feeling more and more sad, not just for Aemond but for the entire family. Helaena had always wanted a sisterly relationship with Rhaenyra, but with a seventeen year age gap and Rhaenyra’s apparent resentment at no longer being an only child, it never happened. Where Aegon had often made fun of her, Aemond had been good to Helaena when they were growing up, patient and understanding of her tendency to daydream and fascination with insects.

“I don’t want my brother to go to prison,” she says sadly, “I just want us to be a family.”

“Do you think that that’s what Aemond wants too?”

“I don’t know what my brother wants anymore. I don’t think he knows himself.”

As her taxi drives her back towards home, dread settles in her stomach like a heavy stone. She can’t help but wonder what Aegon would have said if Helaena hadn’t interrupted them. There is no denying that the Targaryens are a family that are steeped in tragedy, but amidst it all something unseen and sinister lurks, looming with the sense that by the time she stumbles upon it, she’ll be too far in to back out.

“For you,” Royce says the following morning, depositing a USB drive onto her desk.

“Are those the transcriptions?” She asks, looking up at him with wide eyed wonder. “That was quick work.”

“It’s a tight deadline”, he replies with a smirk. “How did your interviews go yesterday?”

Little shit got what was coming to him.

She draws in a breath, unsure of what guides her actions. “I only interviewed Helaena in the end. Aegon was too hungover.”

“A shame, but one interview is better than nothing. Send me the audio and I’ll transcribe that for you too, so you can crack on with the writing.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”

“I know,” Royce says with a wink, before walking away.

She picks up her dictaphone, hovering over the audio file for Aegon’s interview.

Little shit got what was coming to him.

There is no way she can allow Royce to hear that, though she cannot put her finger on why. Before she has a chance to dwell on it further, she erases the recording and gets to work uploading Helaena’s to her computer, then emails it to Royce.

Over the following week, she works hard on the feature, painting a picture of the enigma that is Aemond Targaryen in his own words, as well as his sister’s. It’s a heart wrenching piece, a tale of a misfit little boy, maimed at the age of ten and left to live with the consequences of it. However, instead of collapsing into despair or falling back on a comfortable lifestyle, funded by his family’s fortune, he had studied hard and was an accomplished solicitor within his grandfather’s law firm. He had overcome his disability to train in athletic pursuits such as mixed martial arts and long distance running, and is knowledgeable in the fields of both history and philosophy. There is no denying that Aemond Targaryen is impressive, even without having to navigate the difficulties of losing an eye.

Once the article has been thoroughly vetted by Royce, it goes to print, landing on newsstands the exact same day as Rhaenyra’s interview in White Knight Magazine. Aemond cuts an imposing figure in the photograph used in the double page spread, a sinister presence in direct opposition with the content of the article. And still there is something that niggles at the back of her mind, a stone she has left unturned. Was she right to omit Aegon’s interview? She supposes it is of little consequence, it’s too late now. 

White Knight is a larger publication, so occupies a more prominent shelf space than the Duskendale Gazette. However, upon news spreading that a feature with the elusive Targaryen second son is contained within its pages, it sells out quickly, with an urgent extra print run needing to be made to supply the demand for more copies, despite additional copies having been printed in the first place, in anticipation of the article’s popularity. But they hadn’t anticipated just how popular the feature would be.

As she stands in the newsagents, looking at both publications on the shelf, she is struck by the thought that this presents itself as forcing the public to choose a side, despite neither article making mention of the murder or impending trial.

She reads Rhaenyra’s feature, and cannot help but feel sympathy for her. A young woman whose world was rocked when her best friend had married her father after her mother had died, and then made to feel displaced by the children that that relationship had produced. Already having to deal with the animosity that divides the family in the wake of her father’s death, she now must cope with the grief of losing her son.

Whose side should she choose? She wishes more than anything that Aegon had answered her question, it would doubtless make for an easier decision.

Her phone buzzing in her pocket pulls her out of her reverie and she huffs an irritated sigh as she sees Larys’ name flashing on her screen. She had assumed her dealings with him would be over once the article went to print. It appears she was wrong.

“Nice work,” he drawls into the receiver once she’s answered. “You’ve painted quite the picture.”

“Has he seen it?”

“Aemond? Yes, I ensured he received a copy this morning. He’s pleased with how it’s turned out. That’s why I’m calling, actually.”

“The article’s published, what more is there to say?”

Larys clicks his tongue, his tone dripping with condescension. “Now, now, we did you a favour in letting you run this feature. You’ll have every publication in Westeros beating down your door to commission you after today. Don’t you think a little gratitude is in order?”

“Gratitude?!” She snipes back. “Isn't it enough that I’ve painted a rosy picture of a…”

Murderer.

She can’t bring herself to say the word, there is still a seed of doubt in her mind, yet Larys knows what she means regardless.

“Alleged,” he corrects her. “All Aemond wants to do is say thank you, surely a phone call couldn’t hurt?”

“Do not give him my phone number,” she seethes.

“Very well. But you’ll be at the trial?”

“It’s a closed courtroom.”

“It is. Selected press only, to avoid it becoming a media circus, but I can get you on the list.”

“I’m not supposed to be covering the trial.”

“And you won’t be, don’t worry, I can still get you in.”

“You’ve come this far. May as well see it through to the end.”

Aemond’s words echo in her mind, and she relents with a sigh. It’s not as if she isn’t curious. “Alright, fine.”

“Excellent. See you then.”

The line goes dead.

The trial is to last three days. A day for the prosecution to deliver their testimonies, a day for the defense to present their case, and a day for the jury to deliberate and then pass their verdict, with subsequent sentencing from the judge. Rhaenyra is pushing for a murder sentence, while the other side of the family argue it was an accident.

The tightly wound knots of dread that have made their home inside of her over the last month are prominent as ever as she arrives at the courthouse on the first day. She is ushered in after giving her name, though not towards the sparsely populated press seats as she had assumed she would be.

Bile rises acridly in her throat, her eyes widening in horror as she realises she is being led towards the public gallery to sit with Aemond’s side of the family. Despite wanting to remain neutral, she is being given a side, without the option to choose, though deep down she knows she had subconsciously made her choice the moment she decided to interview Aemond. The idea makes her feel nauseated.

The entire family is tense as she takes a seat next to them. Aegon side eyes her uncomfortably, while Helaena, though she forces a smile, is fidgety and withdrawn. It’s clear she would rather be anywhere but here. Otto bristles at the sight of her, rising slightly from his seat, before Alicent places a hand on his forearm, urging him back down again.

“Aemond wants her here,” she whispers, patting her father’s hand as he sighs and turns his gaze ahead.

Despite defending her presence, the Hightower matriarch doesn’t acknowledge her, keeping her eyes fixed upon her nails, which look red raw around the edges.

An eerie silence falls over the courtroom as Aemond is led out towards the dock, accompanied by a prison officer. He is stony raised as he is seated, keeping his attention fixed on a far point towards the back of the room, though she is certain that for just a second she sees his eye flicker to her, the briefest of smirks tugging at the corners of his mouth. Her stomach somersaults and she forces herself to look away. When she looks back, he’s staring towards the back of the courtroom once more.

“All rise for the honourable Judge Wylde,” a member of staff calls out, and she stands with everyone else, watching as the judge sweeps into the courtroom, taking a seat at the bench, before they are all instructed to sit once more.

Rhaenyra’s solicitor, Erryk Cargyll, delivers the opening statement for the prosecution’s case, claiming that his client has grounds to believe that the death of her son was deliberate and premeditated.

The hours feel as though they drag by as statements are delivered by Rhaenyra, her sons, Jacaerys and Joffrey, and her husband, Laenor. Though all are clearly emotional, and still reeling from the death of Lucerys, none of them actually saw what happened. The evidence is all purely circumstantial, with nothing concrete. Rhaenyra appears visibly distressed, and her heart aches for her knowing that Larys is likely to tear her apart during his questioning.

She isn’t wrong. Larys’ questions hinge upon the fact that her dislike for her half siblings is what guides her judgements and he repeatedly asks if she saw what happened. She appears flustered, stumbling over her words, growing more emotional as the questioning grows more pointed.

Looking over at Alicent, she sees a harrowed look in her eyes, her expression solemn as she stares wide eyed at her former friend from the public gallery, gripping her father’s hand tightly. It is awful to watch, and she is desperate to leave.

Unsurprisingly, Aemond is calm and collected as he is questioned by both Larys and Erryk, keeping his answers clipped and simple. Saying that he had been eager to get away from the family gathering, and had not seen Lucerys as he’d struck him in his haste to drive off. He never falters, even under the heated cross examination from Erryk, asking if he’d been motivated by the injury sustained as a child in his killing of Lucerys. Aemond replies with a simple “no, it was an accident”,

By the time the court is adjourned for the day, she is exhausted both mentally and emotionally. She feels for Rhaenyra, it is clear to see how much she loves her son, and she just wants justice for him. Yet her case is flimsy, and she knows that Aemond’s defense will deal the killing blow tomorrow. On the other hand, Aemond could be telling the truth, in which case, horrible as it is, is it fair that he should be hauled over the coals for an accident? He’ll serve a prison sentence either way.

Despite her tiredness, sleep does not come easy for her that night, knowing she will have to do this all again tomorrow.

The following day, as she’d expected, the defence tears apart Rhaenyra’s case, especially when they call Dr. Orwyle to the witness stand. He is apparently the doctor that had treated Aemond when he initially lost his eye, and had helped him with pain management and rehabilitation in the years that followed.

The doctor’s statement deduces that Aemond’s lack of depth perception means it is not advisable for him to drive at night, due to reduced visibility, so it is entirely plausible he would not have seen Lucerys at all as he’d driven away.

Larys’ closing statement underscores it all; “so, you see your honour, my client was in such emotional distress that evening that he felt he had no choice but to leave. It was an honest accident. Is Aemond Targaryen careless? Yes. But a killer? No.”

“Fucking liar!” Rhaenyra cries out, jumping to her feet, her voice fraught with emotion.

“Order!” Judge Wylde shouts across the courtroom.

She bows her head, drawing in a withering sigh. The trial is over, it’s just the verdict and sentencing to go now.

When she looks back up, a shiver runs the length of her spine; Aemond is staring directly at her. He’s smiling.

She allows her curiosity to get the better of her, once the court is adjourned for the day, catching up to Aegon as he walks from the courtroom. He whips around as she gently grabs his arm, his brows knitting together in confusion as he looks at her.

“I’ll never hear the end of it from Mum, if she sees me talking to you,” he mutters, attempting to pull away.

“I know,” she says, stepping in front of him to block his path, “but I’ll be quick. I just need to know, when I asked you the other day if you thought Aemond had killed Luceys on purpose, what would you have said if Helaena hadn’t interrupted us?”

Aegon sighs, rolling his eyes as he steps around her. “I think you already knew the answer to that when you omitted my interview. It doesn’t matter really though, does it?” He says to her, as he begins walking away. “He’s going to prison either way.”

His words bring her little comfort, and she stands, watching with unease, as he descends the steps at the front of the building. In a sense, he is right, it doesn’t matter now, and her article is already published. She hates herself for it.

She feels sick with nerves the following day, as the final closing statements are read out, and she’s unsure why. Aemond is nothing to her, and yet she feels that she has played a part in this all the same, will somehow be responsible for whatever verdict is reached, whether it’s the right one or not.

 The faces of Rhaenyra, Laenor and Jacaerys are sullen and angry on one side of the courtroom, while Alicent and Helaena look fraught with worry. Otto and Aegon sit stony faced and impassive.

It takes the jury just one hour to reach their verdict.

The clerk of the court calls out, “Will the foreman of the jury please stand? Have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed?”

When the foreman answers in the affirmative, the clerk continues. “On the first count in the indictment, murder in the first degree, do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?”

“Not guilty.”

Rhaenyra collapses into Laenor’s arms with a sob, as Jacaerys jumps to his feet, shouting obscenities. It’s not until Judge Wylde threatens to have him removed that order is restored in the court, and the verdict can continue.

She looks to Aemond, sitting in the dock, his gaze lowered, the silver strands of his hair obscuring his face, so she’s unable to see his reaction, but she can tell from the movement of his wrists that he’s fiddling with his fingers. Is he nervous? He has been so stoic throughout this entire process, to see him falter is unnerving. She finds herself unable to look away as the final verdict is read out.

“On the second count in the indictment, manslaughter, do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty.”

Aemond looks to his mother as the verdict is read out, her brown eyes doleful and filled with tears as she gazes back at him. Rhaenyra storms from the courtroom, the heavy wooden double doors flinging wide open as she departs, quickly followed by Laenor and Jacaerys.

“He’s going to prison,” Helaena whispers sadly.

“That was always going to happen,” Aegon retorts with a heavy sigh.

When the judge passes a sentence of ten years, Alicent buries her face in her hands and sobs.

“He’ll be out in five, if he behaves himself”, Otto says quietly, in an attempt to reassure her.

“But our family is torn apart forever,” she whispers tearfully.

She has seen all she needs to see, and cannot stomach watching or hearing anymore. Rising from her seat, she hurries from the courtroom and outside to the top of the steps, sucking in steadying breaths to help calm the rising panic within her.

Her obligation to Aemond is complete, so she doesn’t understand why this has affected her the way it has. Likely the result of being trapped in such a toxic setting for the last three days, which makes her all the more determined to get away.

Pulling out her phone, she is about to open the taxi app, when Larys calls to her from the entryway of the courthouse. “He’d like to see you.”

“What?!” She asks incredulously, turning to look at him with a scowl. “What for?!”

“To say thank you, and goodbye. You rejected the offer of a phone call, perhaps you can give Aemond a few moments of your time to say his piece in person?”

“I’ve just given three days of my life watching a grieving mother be made a mockery of for his benefit, don’t you think he’s had enough from me already?”

“I can get you into the holding room for a few minutes, before his family go to see him, ahead of him being transferred back to Dragonstone. Just a few minutes, and then all of this is behind you. He has asked to see you specifically.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”

Aemond would look handsome in the all black, expensively tailored suit he’d worn for court, were it not for the handcuffs that bind his wrists together, reminding her that he’s a convicted criminal.

“Speak then,” she says, as she sits down opposite him.

“I just wanted to say thank you, truly, for the article you wrote. You really are a talented writer, and I’m sure great things are in store for you.”

She purses her lips, humming in acknowledgement, uncomfortable with the compliment. “That’s quite alright.”

“I really enjoyed our chats together. I’m going to miss them.”

She frowns, not at the words themselves, but the fact that they are sincere. He means what he’s saying. “It was for a professional purpose,” she insists.

He shakes his head, leaning forward against the table. “I know you enjoyed them too.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Well, they’re over now.”

“They don’t have to be,” he says with a shrug, “ten years is a long time, plenty of time for us to chat.”

She leans back, away from him, the familiar weight of dread settling over her once more. “Aemond, I don’t think that’s a–”

He lurches forward across the table, grabbing her forearm, almost painfully so, his tone desperate and pleading. “Say you’ll come to visit me!”

She is unsure of whether it’s because there’s a part of her that secretly wants to, because she can’t bear to see the look of anguish in his eye any longer, or if she just wants him to let go of her so she can leave, but she finds herself whispering back in a trembling voice “okay, I will”.

It is not a promise she keeps.

Larys had been right, her article about Aemond is the spark that reignites her career. In the weeks following the publication of the feature, her email inbox had been inundated with offers of work from editors across a variety of different media outlets.

She had spent a long time chained to a desk at “The Wall” of the Duskendale Gazette, she did not much fancy swapping one static position for another. Eager to spread her wings, she had handed in her notice, despite Royce’s offer of a promotion. She craved freedom, and with her pick of what publications to write for, she made a successful career of freelancing. Over the next few years she had articles published in broadsheet newspapers and glossy, high end magazines alike, covering current events and interviewing high profile public figures. She made a comfortable living, until eventually she accepted the job of commissioning editor at Gold Cloak, a fashion and lifestyle magazine with a huge circulation and an even larger salary. She is almost able to put to the back of her mind the person who put her there in the first place. Almost.

In the months following Aemond’s sentencing, she had received several calls from an unknown number. On the one occasion she had picked up, it had begun with the automated message “an inmate from Dragonstone Prison is trying to reach you…” She had hung up immediately, her heart lurching, remembering she had said she would visit him, but knowing full well she couldn't. Not because of the morality of the situation, but because of how strong her desire to go actually was. That was a part of her she was eager to suppress. As the calls had continued, she had eventually opted to change her number, and after that they had stopped.

Aemond Targaryen is no more than a meager itch at the back of her mind now. It has been five years since she last spoke to him.

The sunshine warms her skin through the glass of the café window as she sits at the rounded wooden table, leaning back in her chair as her eyes scan over the article she has just had emailed to her. Deadline day is approaching for Gold Cloak, as they gear up to go to print with their next issue, and the last few stragglers are finally submitting their copy. It’s an odd sensation to be appraising the words of others, instead of writing her own, but she’s worked hard to get to this point, and it’s satisfying to be in a position where she is considered senior enough to dictate the contents of a major publication, not just contribute towards it.

Making the most of a work from home day, she has elected to visit her local coffee shop, watching the world pass by on a busy side street of King’s Landing, while the spicy aroma of her chai latte comforts her as she works.

She frowns when the sunlight she had been enjoying morphs into muted darkness. Her breath hitches, and she lets out a frightened gasp as she looks up to see Aemond standing over her.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says softly, “I saw you as I was passing and I wanted to say hello.”

His words do little to comfort her, and her eyes desperately scan the coffee shop. It’s relatively busy, with lots of people, witnesses. Good.

He smirks. “I’m not here to hurt you, don’t worry.”

She swallows thickly, shifting to sit fully upright in her seat. “What are you–”

“I only served half my sentence, I was let out on good behaviour. I’m not an escapee, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“Right, right…” she mutters, attempting to get her thoughts in order as her heart feels like it’s set upon hammering its way out of her chest.

“Mind if I sit?” Aemond says, gesturing to the empty seat opposite hers. “Might make you feel better if I’m not looming over you.”

What can she say? She looks around the café again, deciding she doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Yeah, sure.”

He pulls out the chair, sitting opposite her. Aemond is not quite as intimidating as she remembers him, though she supposes the only time she’d ever seen him before was in prison sweats or dressed for court. Today, as the sun dapples across his pale skin, he looks softer somehow, not nearly as scary as she’d once thought. His long silver blonde hair is pulled up into a low bun, and he’s dressed casually in a black leather jacket, a dark green henley and black slacks tucked into black Doc Martens.

She closes her laptop, perching her elbows on the edge of the table and resting her chin on her hands as she looks at him.

“I’m sorry I never–”

“So what are you–”

They both pause, smiling awkwardly as they begin to talk over each other, before Aemond gestures towards her. “You first.”

She nods, leaning back again, drumming her fingers softly on the table. “I never did come to visit you. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs out of his jacket, letting it drape across the back of the chair. “It was wrong of me to ask you, to be honest,” he admits, “I’d just never opened up to anyone like that before, and though I knew the consequences of the accident, none of it really felt like it was happening until it did. I panicked.”

The accident.

She finds it odd that he refers to in such a way, but he seems so different now, less tense, and she feels herself beginning to relax. Perhaps it really was an accident?

Wrapping her hands around her cup in a bid to ground herself, she nods. “So how long have you been out?”

“A few weeks,” he tells her, his hands coming to rest upon the table as he turns a stray sugar packet around in his fingers. “It’s been a bit of an adjustment.”

“You’re looking well through,” she blurts, before she has time to stop herself.

He smirks and she feels her skin grow hot as he retorts “I could say the same about you.”

She clears her throat, eager to switch gears in the conversation. “So, are you gonna grab a coffee, or are you just passing through?”

“Well, actually, since I’ve run into you, I wondered if perhaps you’d like to join me for something stronger?”

She raises her eyebrows. She knows it’s a bad idea, the trouble is the voice telling her that is not as loud as the one screaming at her to say yes.

“What are you having?” Aemond asks as they stand at the bar of Maegor’s Holdfast.

“Glass of Rioja, please.”

Aemond nods, turning to the bartender. “Bottle of Rioja and two glasses, please.”

“A whole bottle?!” She hisses, as the bartender moves away to fetch their order.

Aemond gives an easy shrug. “We’re both having the same thing, it makes more sense to share a bottle, than two separate glasses.”

“So, what are you doing with yourself these days?” Aemond asks, as they sit in a cosy corner of the pub, sipping their wine.

“Working, mostly,” she tells him, “I’m commissioning editor for Gold Cloak Magazine.”

“Impressive,” he says, raising his glass to her. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“Thanks to you,” she replies quietly, a heated feeling of shame feeling as though it envelopes her. She’s keen to change the subject. “So, what’s going on with you?”

“I can’t return to Red Keep Legal, I’m no longer allowed to practice law. I figured I’d study in another field, maybe history or philosophy, see where that takes me. I’m living back with my mother until I get back on my feet.”

“How’s the family?”

“Mother is okay. Fussing over me far too much now that I’m back. Grandfather has retired, he’s gone back to Oldtown, got himself a nice little cottage. It’s fairly quiet at the house, feels empty.”

“Are Helaena and Aegon not there anymore?”

Aemond shakes his head, taking a long sip of wine before speaking again. “Helaena’s currently overseas in Qarth, doing a conservation study on some sort of beetle. Aegon’s gone to Braavos, he’s decided a life by the sea suits him better now that he’s sober.”

“Aegon’s sober?!”

“Yeah, it surprised me too. Apparently his drinking got quite a lot worse after I was put away. Mother finally had enough and forced him back to rehab. It stuck this time.”

“Good for him. I’m pleased.”

“Hmm. Enough about my family, I want to know all about your new job. Tell me everything.”

Over the next few hours, they fall into effortless conversation, and as one bottle of wine turns into two, it’s easy to forget the nature of their unusual relationship, it feels as though she’s chatting with an old friend.

She tells him all about the freelance work she’s undertaken over the last few years, as well as how she found herself with a job offer from Gold Cloak. They chat about music, films, share jokes and anecdotes, though always careful to avoid mention of Aemond’s incarceration or anything related to it. Aemond is witty, oddly charming and fiercely intelligent, if she hadn't interviewed him in the wake of his nephew’s murder then she could definitely see him as someone she’d be attracted to.

As she drains her final glass of wine, the second empty bottle calling out like a beacon that it’s time to go home, she feels fuzzy headed, her eyes and limbs heavy.

Oh shit, I’m drunk.

She stumbles as she rises from her seat, and Aemond places a steadying hand on her arm, the warmth she sees in his smile as he looks down at her taking her breath away. He looks nothing like a killer, just an ordinary man.

“Come on,” he says, offering her his arm, “I’ll walk you home.”

It doesn’t occur to her to ask how he knows where she lives as he walks her back to her block of flats. Her mind feeling thick from the effects of the wine, she doesn’t resist when he leans down, his lips pressing against hers as he steps her backwards over the threshold of her front door.

He dominates the kiss, the taste of red wine upon his lips potent and sweet. He holds her tight against him, his mouth devouring hers. Their movements are needy and desperate as her hands help to push his jacket from his shoulders and it drops to the floor, along with her laptop bag, with a soft thump. It’s enough to temporarily break her out of her passionate haze and she pulls back reluctantly, her voice a shaky whisper.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Hmmm, and yet it’s happening anyway,” he replies huskily, his hand coming to rest at the back of her neck as he kisses her hungrily once more, his tongue licking greedily at hers.

Every part of her mind that is screaming at her to stop is silenced by his lips, all sense and inhibitions dulled by alcohol. Having been career focused for so long, her love life has taken a backseat, she can’t remember the last time anyone touched her like this. It’s exhilarating to feel wanted, desired, and so she loses herself in the sensation, her mouth moving against his with equal enthusiasm as they stumble back towards the sofa.

He presses her into the plushness of the cushions, the pair of them hastily kicking off their shoes, before he settles on top of her. He trails hot, open mouthed kisses over her jaw and neck, before bringing a hand to the front of her blouse, a quick flick of his wrist tears it open, sending buttons clattering onto the glass top surface of the nearby coffee table.

Before she is able to protest, she is silenced once more by the feel of his mouth upon her, lavishing attention to the swell of her breasts, visible over the tops of the cups of her bra. How is he able to do that, to obliterate all of her thoughts through mere touch alone? It’s dizzying, and her breaths quicken, turning to soft pants as his path continues downwards, leaving a blazing trail in its wake as he shifts his lips to her stomach. His hands roughly tug down her leggings, as he pulls away, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder once they’re all the way off.

As he rests on his haunches over her, she is painfully aware of the imbalance; he kneels before her, fully dressed, while she is beneath him in just her underwear. She squirms slightly in embarrassment, feeling her skin grow heated.

It’s as if he’s able to read her mind, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smirk as his seeing eye stares her down, darkened with arousal. Grabbing the hem of his shirt he tugs it up over his head, allowing it to follow the same path her leggings had.

She feels her core throb with want as her gaze travels down his bare torso. Lean, lithe hardened muscle defines his chest and abdomen in a way that she has only ever seen before in Grecian statues. He descends upon her again, not giving her the opportunity to admire him for long, covering her body with his own as he captures her lips again, his teeth nipping delicately at her bottom lip.

His knee nudges its way between her legs, pushing against her through the lace of her knickers, and she whines into the kiss, her mind immediately racing back to all the times his knee had bumped hers during their interviews. Is this what he’d wanted all along? The idea makes her pulse thrum and her blood run hot. It’s sick and twisted, but she can’t find herself to care, not when the friction of his actions feels so agonisingly addictive. 

His lips pull away from hers, and his hand snakes between their bodies, taking up the space his knee had occupied until just a moment ago. He cups her mound through the fabric of her underwear, humming in satisfaction as she bucks her hips against his palm, chasing the pressure his knee had given her.

“Eager little thing,” he whispers darkly, hooking a finger into the elastic of her gusset and tugging it to one side.

It isn’t until the coolness of the air hits her bare flesh that she realises just how wet she is, and she’d feel ashamed were it not for the fact she can see Aemond’s pupil dilate at the sight of it.

He teases the pads of his fingers through her folds, spreading the stickiness of her arousal from her sensitive bud to her opening and back again. Her breath hitches at the sensation, every nerve ending in her body feeling as though it’s aflame.

“You’re soaking,” he murmurs, eye flickering up to meet hers.

She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can get the words out, he’s bringing his fingers away from her core and pushing them past her lips and into her mouth. She mewls around his digits at the tart taste of herself upon her tongue, and as he takes her hand, bringing it forward to cup the hardness of him through his trousers, she finds herself sucking on them, palming at him eagerly simultaneously.

He groans quietly, pressing himself against her touch. “Good girl.”

Withdrawing his fingers from her mouth and swatting her hand away gently, he unbuckles his belt, leaning back over her as he unbuttons and unzips his trousers, pushing them down along with his boxers just enough to free his erection.

She cannot see it, but the feel of it, heavy and leaking, pressing against her entrance is enough to have her walls clenching, eager to take him inside. The initial stretch to accommodate him as he presses forward causes them both to sigh softly in unison, his brows furrowing with exertion as he pushes all the way in to the hilt. The fullness of it makes her ache, and she rolls her hips impatiently, desperate for him to move.

“So needy,” he chastises quietly.

“Please,” is all she’s able to whimper in response.

His hand moves to the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and gripping it tightly. He holds her in place, so she has no choice but to look at him as he drags his hips back before snapping them forward again.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

She should stop this, they’ve gone too far already, but the buzz of the wine is still coursing its way through her, and with every brush of the head of his cock against the sensitive spot deep inside of her, the urge to put an end to what’s happening rapidly fades.

Her legs tangle with his, as she meets him thrust for thrust. He is slow to withdraw, but quick to slam forward again, driving him impossibly deep into her. His grip on her hair and the forced eye contact make it almost too much to bear. The intensity with which he looks at her, studies the contortions of pleasure her features morph into, is torturous, yet she never wants it to end.

Clinging to him tightly, her fingernails dig crescent moons into the flesh of his shoulder blades, his jaw beginning to slacken as with every push forward she feels him pulsate. He’s getting close, and she is too, the tell tale tensing of her thighs and quivering inside of her letting her know she’s edging closer to her peak.

She is desperate to turn her face away, not wanting to be staring directly into his eye as she falls apart, but Aemond’s grip on her hair is iron clad, she cannot move her head. With one last push forward, she tightens and spasms around him, a broken cry escaping her as she stares at him, eyes wide and brows knitted together as warm waves of pleasure ripple through her.

Something akin to a growl rumbles in Aemond’s throat, and she feels him still, knowing he’s about to reach his own end. Not wanting her own ecstasy to be short lived by him pulling out, she is quick to reassure him in a breathy whisper.

“I’m on the pill.”

“I know,” he groans, before letting go, spilling himself inside of her with a grunt. He lets go of her hair, burying his face into the crook of her neck as his body shudders, his length twitching and pulsing within her sensitive heat.

They remain tangled together for a few moments, both breathing heavily as they attempt to recover and slowly come back down to earth. As the blissful fog begins to lift, she is struck by a realisation.

I know.

“How do you know I’m on the pill?” She asks, her voice quiet and hoarse.

Aemond lays quiet for a moment, his breaths warm and moist against the flesh of her neck as they calm. When he eventually pulls back and looks at her, there’s something different in the way he looks at her. His stare is cold, almost crazed, similar to what she had seen the day they’d first met in the visitors room of Dragonstone Prison.

“I know everything about you,” he says with a soft smile, that doesn’t play upon the rest of his features.

Her heart lurches in her chest, fear turning her blood icy, the effects of the wine disappearing entirely as she’s left starkly sobered.

“What do you mean?” She asks quietly.

He hums thoughtfully, brushing her hair away from her face in a gesture that could be considered affectionate, were it not for the sudden change in atmosphere.

“I suppose there’s no point in keeping secrets, not now we know each other so…intimately,” he muses. “I enjoyed our talks together, I wanted them to continue, but when it became clear to me that that wasn’t reciprocated, I needed a way to continue to keep in touch. So I had you watched, followed, everything you did was reported back to me. It’s made the last five years more bearable still having a connection to you. It’s been better still being able to keep tabs myself over the last few weeks.”

Tears prickle her eyes, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. “You’re sick!”

“Am I?” He asks, cocking his head as he strokes her hair absentmindedly. “Or is that you? Because for me, our little tryst seems perfectly normal, an inevitability, considering my interest in you. However, for you, you barely know me. I’m someone you interviewed half a decade ago, and you opened your legs for me the very same day I happened to make you aware I was back in your life. I’d say that makes you a whore.”

“Get off!” She cries, squirming beneath him, attempting to push him off. The thought that his softening member is still nestled within her has her reeling with disgust. He is stronger than she is though, and refuses to budge, keeping her right where she is, as he grips her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him.

“Behave,” he hisses, “you’ve seen what happens to people who anger me. You sat through an entire trial for it.”

“That was manslaughter,” she says in a trembling voice, a tear trickling down her cheek.

“That’s what I was sentenced for, yes, but I’ll tell you a secret…I saw Lucerys, and I drove my car towards him anyway.”

He laughs softly, as he gazes down at her, her eyes widened in horror, as her chest heaves. “His expression was rather similar to yours, actually, when he realised what was about to happen.”

“You’re a murderer,” she sobs, frantically trying to push him off of her.

“Oh, darling,” he soothes mockingly, “but you did such a wonderful job of portraying me as otherwise.”

“What are you going to do to me?!” She asks, panic fluttering acridly up from her chest and into her throat.

“Nothing at all, if you don’t overreact. Don’t get any funny ideas about going to the police either.”

“What?!”

“I don’t think your career could withstand such an enormous blunder, not a second time anyway. Imagine how that would look, the second time you’ve painted a criminal as a saint, and not only that but this time you’ve slept with him. That would be quite the fall from grace.”

He pins her wrists above her head, though all the fight has left her, she sags beneath him, hot tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I can’t believe this…”

“Believe it,” he hisses. “You’ve built your career on the back of me, and I think it’s about time you repay the favour. For five years you’ve enjoyed success, all thanks to me, while I rotted in prison. You owe me.”

“What do you want from me?” She asks weakly.

“Nothing I haven’t had already,” he tells her, leaning down to run the tip of her nose against her cheek. “Be sweet to me, and I’ll be sweet to you, because if you try to take me down over this, I can guarantee you have much more to lose than I do.”

Her stomach turns, her eyes closing in defeat. There is no escape from this, she simply has to accept her fate or endure mutually assured destruction.

Aemond’s expression has softened when she opens her eyes again. His hands move from her wrists to her hands, entwining their fingers. “There she is,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “No more tears now, you’ll spoil all the fun we’re going to have together.”

This is a nightmare, This is a nightmare. Wake up.

As she feels him harden inside of her once more, the heartbreaking realisation that she’s not dreaming settles over her. This is a waking nightmare, and it’s only just beginning.

[eroselless]

────────────── sommer house // 1

series summary: After starting a new job at a prestigious museum in London, you form a close friendship with Helaena Targaryen. You're surprised when she invites you to stay at her family's estate for the summer holidays. [1.7k]

[aegon targaryen x reader, modern!HOTD AU ]

masterlist

warnings: talk and description of bugs. if there's any I missed, let me know!

note: hello friends! I’m sure some of you might be a little confused seeing this coming up again. after much contemplating and many many re-reads, I decided I would rewrite what I had of moth to a flame now that I had more inspiration and motivation. for this first chapter, it’s not much different from my first draft but I removed and added a few things that I thought made the story begin flowing a lot better. thank you for the support and happy reading <3

Dashing through the rain, your coat pulled tightly around you, you navigate the bustling streets of London. The sky opened up as you were leaving the train station, drenching you instantly. You’re breathless when you reach the entrance of the museum, soaked to the bone with hair sticking to your forehead. Pausing briefly under the awning, you try to catch your breath, shaking off as much rain as you could before hurrying inside, the patter of rainfall fading behind you. 

The familiar warmth and silence of the museum envelop you, offering a stark contrast to the chaotic weather outside. The lights are dim and if you listen closely, you could swear you can hear soft music permeating the air. 

You make your way to the back of the museum, passing through employee doors and to the entomology department, where you knew Helaena would be waiting. Rounding a corner, you see you. She stands at the entrance of your shared office, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. She leans against the doorframe, her free hand fiddling with the key card that hangs around her neck. It’s 5 past 9, you're not that late and her casual demeanour only makes for a comforting sight.

“Rough morning?” she asks, a grin on her lips as she entends the cup of coffee towards you. 

“Don’t even get me started,” you reply, taking the cup and making your way past her into the room. “The tube was a nightmare. Some sort of signal failure. I’m surprised I made it at all.”

Helaena laughs, “You wouldn’t have to deal with the tube if you drove,” she teases, raising her eyebrows. Following you to your desk, she stands in front as you set your things down. You roll your eyes at her, making a face, to which she responds with a half-smirk.

You met Helaena three months ago when you first started working at the museum. After a seemingly endless job search, you happened upon one that just happened to be in a country halfway across the world. Seeing as how you fit all of the requirements, you pushed fear aside, taking a leap. You packed up what you could and made your way to London. The idea of working in another country had always captivated you, but the reality of moving hadn’t fully sunk in until you stepped off the plane. Everything felt surreal—the accents, the bustling streets, the historical buildings whispering stories of the past.

Working in the entomology department with Helaena, you spent countless hours cataloging and preserving the museum’s vast insect collection. The late nights became routine, often the two of you working late into the night, at times at each other's homes. Her companionship made the hours more bearable. Helaena quickly became more than just a colleague; she became a friend, someone you could rely on and share with. 

Clapping her hands, a wide smile now on her face, Helaena turns to you from a large cluster of boxes: "Well, you're here now, and just in time; we've got a ton to do today."

Settling into your desks, surrounded by cabinets filled with specimens and shelves lined with books and equipment, the morning passes quickly.

You take turns pulling out cases from the large boxes, a new shipment from South America, examining and cataloging each specimen. Each one is carefully inspected, labeled and documented. The vibrant colors and intricate patterns never cease to amaze you, each telling a different tale. 

As the afternoon rolls around, you find yourself leading a group of young school children through an interactive exhibit, one you spent the last week preparing with Helaena, explaining the life cycles of different insects and answering their curious questions. Their eyes widen as you show them the cases of insects, pointing out each of their intricate and unique features. Together, you carefully examine drawers of pinned needles, getting lost in the details of their iridescent shells.

The children nod as you explain different insects, jotting down notes in their small notebooks to bring back to school. Their laughter and curiosity makes the rest of the day pass quickly, their enthusiasm making even the most mundane tasks feel rewarding. 

The day winds down from there, the absence of the children making you realize how tired you’d gotten. You put the exhibits back into their boxes, making sure everything is in its place for the groups coming in tomorrow and the day after that. From the corner of your eye you can see Helaena making her way to you, rolling a cart identical to yours. There’s a thoughtful expression on her face. 

"So, any plans for the summer holidays? They're not gonna need us at all during these renovations they're doing," she inquired, pursing her lips at you.

You shake your head as you continue placing boxes onto your cart. “I would but I can’t afford to go home right now. I’ll probably just stay in London and explore the city or something.”

Helaena’s face lights up. “Why don’t you come with me to my family’s country estate? We’re having a big party for my dad’s retirement. It’ll be a nice change of pace and you can officially meet my family. They’ll adore you.”

Your lips part as you stare at her wordlessly. “Are you sure?” you asked, searching her eyes, 

Helaena waves you off, “Of course!” she exclaims, shaking her head. “"It'll be fun. Besides, it would be nice to have another girl there so I don’t have to deal with my brothers all on my own. Say you’ll come," she pleads.

The thought of spending the holidays with Helaena, surrounded by the English countryside and her family’s hospitality, race through your mind. It sent a shiver of nerves through you. You knew very little about her family, only hearing of her brothers in passing. You’d seen them in pictures she had littered around her apartment and on her facebook. You met her mother, if you can call speaking to her briefly over the phone, one night that you spent the night at Helaena’s. Her older sister and her father were a complete mystery to you, both of them a subject she didn’t ever really talk about. 

She bats her eyes at you, gently wrapping her arms around yours. You let out a sigh, breaking out in a smile. “Alright, I’ll come.” you laugh, and she throws her arms around your shoulders. 

:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's a few days later you find yourself tossing clothes at Helaena. The afternoon sunlight streams through the window behind her. Her hair is loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. It looks as if it were glowing. She sits on your bed, gingerly folding different shirts and pants into your bag. Rejected piles of clothes are strewn across your bed, shoes littering the floor and small packing cubes full of toiletries and makeup sit next to your gradually filling case. 

“What about this?” you ask. Swaying slightly, you hold a dress up to your chest. It’s red and covered in polka dots with a large white bow cinching the middle. Her face stays in a slight grimace, shaking her head and laughing.

"We need to get you some new dresses; these look like they belong in a history museum," she says with a playful smile. You laugh, shoving her shoulder as you tuck the dress back into the wardrobe. She pulls a knitted sweater from the edge of your bed and tucks it tightly into your bag.

Once your outfits are sufficiently coordinated and your essentials pulled into packing cubes, Helaena helps you pack them into your suitcase, ensuring you have enough of everything you need for your stay. She speaks up when you struggle with the zipper. 

“So, I know you’ve sort of met Mum and you’ll be meeting everyone else while we're there.  My sister is even coming with her children. A fair warning, though having everyone there can be a bit … intense but they’re good people.”

You note her hesitation. “Intense how?”

Helana shrugs, trying to downplay her words. “It can get a little overwhelming, is all. But you’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

You nod an ok at her, climbing on and bouncing on your suitcase to press it shut with your knees. She joins you, twisting with you as you begin to pull on the zipper. 

"The place’s been in my family for generations. There’s lots of history there, places you could get lost in. You’ll really love it.”

You struggle for a little bit, pulling the zip a little more to fully close the case before sitting on it, breathless. 

"What was it like, growing up in a place like that?" you ask, looking up at her as she takes her spot back on the edge of your bed. 

Helaena smiles, a distant look in her eyes. It's a smile that has a drop of sadness behind it. "It was magical. There are all these secret passages and hidden rooms. We used to play hide and seek for hours.” 

She traces a pattern on your quilt as she continues speaking. “We each got puppies at some point and when we’d pretend we were princes and princesses, my brothers would pretend they were dragons.” 

There's a bittersweet expression on her face as she recounts the memory. It's not an expression you're used to seeing on her face but it’s one she seems to fall back to every time she speaks of home. You can’t help but to be curious about it but you always stop before prying or saying anything. You smile, reaching out a hand and placing it on her knee. It pulls her out of her momentary daze and she flashes a smile at you. A mixture of nerves and anticipation fill you again. "I can’t wait," you say with a soft sigh.

Helaena looks at you, her eyes sparkling. "You're going to love it. It’s like stepping back in time. Just be prepared for a bit of drama; there’s always something happening when we're all together."

"Drama?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, you know, family stuff. Arguments, misunderstandings, that sort of thing. But it’s all part of the charm," she says with a wink.

You laugh, feeling a bit more at ease. "Well, I’m ready for anything."

With the suitcase finally zipped, you both collapse onto the bed, giggling. Helaena turns to you, her expression softening. "I’m really glad you’re coming. It’s going to be a summer to remember."

If you want to support my writing you can buy me a coffee over on Ko-Fi <3

[nyrasbloodyclover]

a hot welcome (modern!aegon targaryen x reader)

cw: smut, p in v, fingering, reader is a virgin, aegon targaryen is a perv, daeron bff,

a/n: i am not really satisfied with this, but i had to finish it. anyway, i am logging out for some time. see you soon!

"I need you to help me pack, Daeron."

"No you don't, do it yourself. In case you forgot, I have to pack too."

Since you two became friends in freshman year, you were inseparable. You helped each other study, you hung out all the time and now he asked you to accompany him on his trip to visit his family, since they lived across the country.

"I thought you were finished! We have to leave in an hour!"

"This is why you don't have any friends. You think anyone would want to put up with this?"

"And this is why you don't have a girlfriend!"

You could've gone for hours like that, but it was really time to go.

Thirty minutes later, you were finished, and on your way.

The flight was pretty short, and you felt the nerves kicking in. The main reason Daeron asked you to come with him was that he didn't really like his family. Especially his brothers.

And from the stories you heard, you weren't a fan of them either.

Aegon was a drunk and a pervert (not Daeron's exact words, but your conclusion) and Aemond was cold and distant, emotionally unavailable probably.

Helaena was fine, she even visited a couple of times. Daeron rarely came home and his mother was very worried. She made him promise that he'd come once the school year was over.

You really had no other friends. You were glad you met him, but other people tend to be loud and too much work. You hated that.

Alicent picked you up from the airport, visibly on edge, because she wasn't very present during Daeron's childhood, but he never mentioned it. Not once. He was asking about his siblings and their pets and Alicent's new potential boyfriends. He was really nice and you loved him because of that. You tried to join their conversation, but failed so you kept quiet until you came home.

Once you got into the house Helaena was the one who greeted you, with a smile and a spider crawling up her arm.

"Oh my god! Wait, you have—" I tried to brush the little creature off, but she just laughed.

"That's my new pet. Wanna hold him?"

"Uh... Yeah, sure." She was kind and you really liked Helaena, you'd also like to get to know her better.

"Stop bothering her, sister. She just got here." It was an unfamiliar male voice and he was walking down the stairs.

Unkept shoulder length hair, dirty mouth and half closed eyes? Yes, that was Aegon.

"Why? So that you could bother her? Leave us alone."

You recognized him from Daeron's stories and he wasn't exaggerating, everything was on point. You could practically feel, not the mockery, but the perverse part of him coming to the surface.

"Hi. Aegon, right?"

His smile was twisted. "And for how long will this pretty thing be staying with us, Daeron?" He was walking over to the kitchen and your friend frowned at his brother.

"Aegon, don't."

"What?" He laughed, "It was merely a question."

Later that day, Daeron showed you your room, it was a guest room, larger than the apartment you shared with Daeron. His family was pretty wealthy.

If you'd only looked at Aegon, you could never tell.

While you were unpacking, you sensed someone's presence behind you, but before you could turn around, he was already sitting on your bed, looking like a very happy puppy. Who might do things to you if you let him.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, at least I think so. If you cooperate."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No," he giggled, he actually giggled.

"Would you please get out?"

Aegon got up and instead of leaving the room, he closed the door. You two were alone in your temporary bedroom.

"Aegon. Please get out, I don't want anything to do with you." But that was a lie. A big, fat, lie.

You wanted him to ruin you to your core, until there is nothing left for him to take. You never even had your first kiss.

It was the attention. Nobody gave you this much attention in your life, at least not in that way.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire..."

"You are so drunk. Isn't it almost dinner time? Are you going out?"

"No. Just came here...For you."

He stepped closer towards you and the back of your knees hit the bed. If he decides to come any closer, you'll have to crawl over your bed which you don't plan on doing.

Aegon could practically smell the innocence on you. It made him go mad. It made him go into his room and drink the whole bottle of wine in a heartbeat, only to be brought into your room, while you were bending over that bed, unpacking.

Daeron warned him, but he didn't give a shit. He's going to have you, one way or another.

Now you were all flushed, waiting for his next move and he didn't plan on wasting any more moments.

His hands were in your hair and in a second he was pulling you in and kissing you, devouring you and Aegon tried to slip his tongue inside your mouth, but you were still too stubborn.

You pulled away, pressing a hand over your mouth, like you've done something sinful. He loved the taste of you, and he wanted more of it.

"You..." You couldn't even look at him. How he wanted to spread you on that very bed until you can't walk.

He was ready to continue, but there was a knock on the door. Daeron.

"Dinner is ready. Mother already called, but I wasn't sure if you heard..."

"Coming!" You managed to get out, but your voice was shaky. Your face was burning.

During the dinner everyone ate silently, and at some point you could feel Aegon's knee brush against yours while he watched you from across the table. You tried to remain calm but your face grew hotter every second. You crossed your legs and he didn't fail to miss it.

His drunken eyes wandered over you, especially your cleavage in a shirt that was a bit more revealing. You forgot about it, but then cursed yourself for wearing it in such a moment.

It was thankfully over soon and you got to shower, finally! You were just finishing washing your hair when you heard the door open.

Aegon couldn't see anything, but you were paralyzed.

He took off his shirt and you had to admit, you wanted to be able to see somehow. You had no idea what his deal was, but it made your knees tremble.

"Aegon, what is it?"

"Nothing." You could see the outline of his body, he was completely naked now and he was walking towards you.

"Stop. I'm getting out. Give me a towel."

To your surprise, he obeyed and tossed you a large towel to wrap around your body. When you slid the door open his naked body flashed you, but you prepared mentally, so you didn't react, and certainly did not look anywhere besides his face and the smug expression he was giving you.

Despite your best efforts, you saw black ink of his tattoos and that was the last straw, you bolted from the bathroom.

It wasn't until you were in your room that you remembered you left your clean clothes there.

You cursed yourself, but took a spare shirt you had and used it as a pajama.

You peeked from your room to see if the bathroom was empty, and when you saw the light was out, you ran to get your things, but what took you by surprise is that the clothes were still there, all except for your underwear. Which was at the top of the pile.

Maybe you left them in your room, you didn't know, but you were too tired to care, anyway, so you got under the covers and took some time to read your book. You were so close to drifting away, but a strange noise awoke you. Like someone was in pain. It was the room beside yours.

No, not in pain, you realized, embarrassed. It was male moaning and occasional whimpering. And it was Aegon.

Was it possible that you got the room that was so close to his? You knew that he was doing that on purpose, touching himself, just to make you even more flustered.

You had trouble sleeping that night, refusing to acknowledge the pain and wetness between your legs. You woke up around four in the morning and decided to drink some cold water and try to calm down. Your heart was hammering against your chest, remembering the sounds of pleasure Aegon was making.

You opened your door, but before you could go down the stairs, you felt someone's hand on your mouth, pulling you backwards, until you were in another room. You didn't even get to panic properly. But of course, when you turned, it was Aegon who was smiling at you. It was almost dark in his room.

"What the fuck?" You whispered.

He didn't answer, but he did pull you towards him and start kissing you, no, swallowing your face would be more appropriate. It caught you off guard, but you weren't mad. You wanted him to take control, you were desperate for it.

"Ever been fucked?" He mumbled in between kissing.

"N...No," you breathed out, every part of your rationality leaving, there was just him, only him. He grinned and seemed quite satisfied with your answer. He wanted to be the one who is going to destroy you.

Just in your shirt, it was easy for him to start touching you immediately, not having to remove any clothing. You gasped at the feeling of his fingertips.

You ended up on his bed, not being able to see clearly, dizzy from the sight of him.

His fingers pulled your underwear to the side and slowly touched your clit, using your wetness to prepare you for him after slipping one finger inside of you.

"We are just getting started. Relax," he whispered the last word in your ear as his finger slid in and out. Aegon kissed your neck and collarbones, just to soothe you before slipping in another finger. He did his best to stretch your walls before entering you.

"Aegon," you covered your mouth with your hand, remembering where you were and who might hear you.

He looked at you like you were a piece of meat he was ready to butcher.

Telling you nothing more, you suddenly felt him rubbing himself against your folds. Teasing you at your entrance, making you squirm beneath him.

"I was going to wait. I really was." He grunted, but continued, "I couldn't do it, it was a perfect opportunity and this is how you're going to spend every night in this house."

Your hips moved, needing him to touch you, bury himself deep inside you. And that's precisely what he did.

He went slow. Just the tip, and then he went deeper and deeper, the pain growing, but it was quickly switched with pleasure.

He slammed his dick inside you, making you cry out in pain, not yet accustomed to him. "You're going to ride me so well, I know it." Aegon's fingers dig deep into your hips.

He even forgot to take off your panties, it was stretched to the side while he kept going in and out, without mercy.

You dragged your nails against his bare back, leaving red marks behind. You realized he probably slept just in his underwear.

He pulled himself out of you, making you gasp at the sudden emptiness.

"Shh, it's okay, come here," he gestured towards himself. Aegon was now laying down and you supposed you knew what he wanted. You were scared.

"But I've never— I don't know how—"

"Nonsense." He guided your hips towards his cock and pulled you down on him, again, very slowly and then started moving you in the rhythm that was good enough for both of you.

You continued as he showed you, his hands were on your ass, squeezing until it hurt.

You felt him deep, throwing your head back, but keeping your mouth shut.

Aegon grunted, but then a moan escaped his mouth, "Do it faster." And you tried to listen to him, you gave him your best and he seemed satisfied enough.

When you reached your peak, you stopped moving completely, letting yourself squeeze him, your thighs trembling. Aegon held your hips in place and then pulled out, but continued to rub himself on your still sensitive clit.

Your moans were what set him off and he came all over his and your stomach, gasping for air once you both fell on the bed beside each other.

"I am going to teach you so many things."

You just hoped nobody finds out. And when you turned your head you saw your missing underwear, sitting on top of Aegon's nightstand still wet.

[irenadel]

And if the devil... 1/10

Making a banner for this finally for the grand finale coming soon. Excuse to rb. Credit for the Aemond screencap goes to the wonderful Liv @barbieaemond Eventual smut, Aemond Targaryen x Maid!Reader

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

“And if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent.”

- Farouk Gouida

He’d had nothing but contempt for you the first time he’d seen you: a too tall, mannish girl mopping up baby vomit for Helaena with less tact and grace than a stable boy. He had seen the blotchy red and white of your hands and face and had thought you one of Aegon’s cruel jests for a sister-wife he did not deserve: a freakish chambermaid for a mad princess.

And far too familiar with a lady who was in every way your better.

He told himself it was not jealousy that burnt in the pit of his stomach, brighter and wilder than Vhagar’s fire. No. It was distaste and a healthy amount of distrust, he’d felt when he’d come to visit Helaena and found you rocking her gently in your arms. You’d been in drab servant red, hair escaping your work bonnet, so strangely pale that it had made Aemond squint in immediate suspicion. Whatever it was, you were no noble companion or even one of the prettier handmaidens, just a scullery girl, dress still stained from floor scrubbing, holding a Targaryen princess and gently brushing her hair out of the way.

He’d had to control the urge to snatch her from your arms and snarl at you to leave if you wanted to keep your head… It would not have been becoming. Helaena would no doubt have found it distressing. But most of all, he feared what he would do to you the moment he’d had your pale, sickly hand in his grip. Because you had robbed him of a thing which he had not known belonged to him. His right to his sister’s pain, always so far and yet so close, because he feared the things he could say if his affection were ever to escape him. And here you were, like a thief in the night, snatching his chance before he’d even known it existed.

You’d had the common sense to leave quickly with your bucket of slops, and your eyes fixed determinedly on the floor. As if you’d known your transgression.

Helaena was not half as wise as you. Her tears had been all but gone, not there for a brother to wipe away or avenge. No forthcoming confession about Aegon that he could use as an excuse to stalk his brother’s steps and pick a fight. Just her tongue loosened by the joy of Aemond’s sudden gentleness, brought on by unwarranted competition.

You’d been recently assigned to her quarters, she’d told him and you were very good at putting the children to sleep. You weren’t squeamish like the ladies of the court, would look at Helaena’s insects without problem and think nothing of her muttering under her breath, however strange her words might be. When the children were quiet, when Helaena herself hadn’t known what else to say, you had talked to her about the great locusts of the plains of Essos, told her stories of swarms of them, climbing atop the little babes, eating the grass so thoroughly no horse or cattle could survive on what was left.

But more so, you were kind and strong and willing to put the princess to bed when her head hurt so bad she could barely think. You stayed up with her when her dreams were more a punishment than reprieve from her reality, asleep in her bed besides her or waking up for her to tend to the babies. Not a wet nurse, but you had a good head on your shoulders for fussing and crying. She had come to depend on you really. 

He had not liked it at all.

He’d blamed himself for being too engrossed in weapons training and Vhagar to have noticed your creeping, insidious influence on his sister. He’d questioned his mother and had found only her relief that at least Aegon left you alone, probably less out of kindness than out of distaste. You may have been coarse and rude and perhaps unfit to deal with anything but the lower floors of a castle, but the queen had had enough problems to deal with and at least you had a strong back and a mean glare that kept even princes away.

Not Aemond though.

He’d kept his good eye on you, and a new man-at-arms he trusted always at his sister’s side. Had even thought to corner you and put the fear of the gods in you lest you had thought Helaena alone and vulnerable. Had not even considered replacing your presence with his own, uneasy with how much the prospect thrilled him. 

You’d looked up only once: a lightning quick glare for the One-Eyed Prince before the subservient mask was firmly back in place. And Aemond had been struck strangely silent by your odd red eyes and let you scurry away. Your coarse yellow hair had been escaping its thin bonnet and he’d known immediately.

Not Valyrian blood, not a misplaced bastard, not some political trick as he had suspected…

Albino.

Oh but Helaena did have quite a fondness for broken, repellent things.

He’d been less wary then, but no less watchful. He’d stopped to stare when he saw you carrying the princess’s tray or even one of her children up and down a corridor, infallible technique for getting them to sleep at last. He’d haunted his sister’s rooms, lurking in doorways, listening in to your accent (not Flea Bottom, but not court either, no one had taught you how to speak to your betters or even how to speak well at all, it seemed…) as you told Princess Helaena about having eleven cousins and wrestling them all into bed, about taking in laundry because you couldn’t take in sewing, about a crotchety old uncle who had broken his hip out at sea and needed minding now. An uncle who resented the minding and the niece and wife that kept him and his children fed. An uncle who sounded to Aemond’s hungry, savage loneliness a lot like a father and a king.

He does not hear the other talk, even if allowed to be present for it he would not consider it. He would have dismissed it as women talk, gossip, having seldom let himself dwell on kindness instead of grievance, succor instead of retaliation. He does not hear a beloved sister tell you to stay one step ahead of the dragon, as far away as you can manage, because dragons bring nothing but fire even if they love you, warm enough until it becomes death. She should know.

It does nothing to keep Aemond from following behind you. When you took the children and their mother down to the kitchens for hot milk with honey. When any of them were achy or colicky or cranky and you would put a shawl over them, babies or mother. When you insisted the princess and her children could do with a stroll and some sun, and Aemond found his heart aching with hideous envy because he could hear his sister laughing at your snappish kitchen talk, speaking softly and intimately to you, as hungry to give the attention as to receive it. (Even as his sorry, wicked heart screams out, it was mine, all this was meant for me, how dare you, how dare you take what I didn’t know I needed!) When you sang Helaena’s babies or Helaena herself to sleep and Aemond found he had to cover his  ears against your strange, foreign crooning, that didn’t sound like King’s Landing but sounded treacherously like home. He’d had to flee to the training grounds and take out this all-consuming anger on something, drown out your husky, kind voice with the din of his sword against a shield. Hitting the wood over and over again until he tore it to splinters and Ser Criston had to hold him into stillness, knowing there was no comforting a dragon without getting burned.

“My prince.”

You would say when you fled a staircase he cornered you into.

“My prince.”

When you’d courtesy, clumsily, still too sour-faced and suspicious to do it gracefully, when he managed to catch you on your way out of Helaena’s room.

“My prince.”

The day he had decided that yes, your prince, was exactly what he’d be to you, what you’d say to him, in whatever way he’d manage to tear it from your throat, in spite of Aegon’s taunting and the visceral fear at his own woeful lack of knowledge in matters of the flesh.

Because he had decided if you had no problem taking from him, he would have no problem taking from you.

Because you’d said it to him on your way out of the washing court, bonnet gone and coarse yellow hair sticking out of your pinned braid like a frightful halo, a bright purple bruise already forming on your cheekbone, as you’d glared directly at him, challenge in your head held high, and the water splashed all across your linen apron, sticking to your skin so closely that Aemond should have had you right then and there.

Because you’d said it with a curt nod, like Ser Criston when he approved of a particularly good move Aemond had just learned in the training yard, like a general to a soldier, “My prince.”

Because he’d just seen you swing a chamber pot directly into a stable boy’s face after hearing him call Princess Helaena “daft,” bringing it swinging back to the other side of his face, contents and all, just to take a step back to bring a fist into the stable boy’s friend. Aemond had been too transfixed by the sight of your heaving chest and the splotchy red of your cheeks to intervene after you’d taken a half-hearted punch to the face, returned it in kind and thrown the now empty chamber pot at the whimpering serving boys at your feet.

“And clean up your bloody mess!” You’d said before washing your hands in the fountain and strolling out of the courtyard, about as triumphant and vicious as Prince Aemond himself had ever felt when defeating knight after knight, telling himself he was better, stronger, a more fit ruler than any of them would ever be.

“My prince,” you’d said with your curt, martial nod, with your ruby-red eyes and the split knuckles of your hand, wounds taken in the defense of Aemond’s sister, wounds that should have by right belonged to him.

He’d taken your wrist in his hand, grip monstrously strong, and watched you realize the mistake you had made in the proud tilt of your head. You had forgotten for a second that pride wasn’t for your class of people, less so when confronted by a prince of the realm. He’d watched you realize your danger and how you didn’t care, that if there was a price to pay for pride you might as well pay it… and had realized himself that he didn’t care much either. Because Aemond had decided in that moment that he liked the defiance and stubborn anger in your ruby-red gaze, just as much as he had liked the ringing din of the chamber pot breaking something in that stable boy’s face. The prince had smiled at you then, his hunting cat smile, the one men all over the Seven Kingdoms would learn to fear, as he let you pass. Your prince, you would call him again, he decided as he let you go. Your prince, he would hear you call him, on your knees, on your back and beneath him, anyway he could get you. Because he wanted it. Because he had known himself to be spoiling for a fight and would be spoiling for a fight his whole life, the moment he had gone looking for Vhagar, the largest living dragon in the world, and won her. As he would win you. On your knees, your back or beneath him, as you called him your prince, because you wanted to, not ripped out of you by fear and hope for profit but because you wanted him. He would teach you that. That there were none like him, Targaryen or otherwise. That he was your prince and more than. He would teach you this, just as he had begun to teach the world.

[cdragons]

Warmth & Stories - Aemond Targaryen x Wildling!Reader

Next Part

Summary: Love can bloom in the most unusual ways. The love between a stoic prince from the South and a wildling storyteller will be written in history as one of the strangest but truest of loves.

Author's Notes: To my very lovely and wonderful friend and beta reader Bel, aka @valeskafics, I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's! This is the first part of this fic gift I wanted to give you, and I promise the next part will have smut! I hope you like this fic and can feel my love and appreciation for you. Bel, you are one of my favorite writers of all time and a huge reason I began posting fanfics and writing in the first place. I am so grateful that you opened a whole new world for me, and I hope this year gives you lots of happiness.

Warning(s): Slight cursing, Reader's parents were killed, Daemon's an ass, Viserys is a negligent father, Westeros is Westeros, dysfunctional family shenanigans

Prince Aemond Targaryen was known to be many things. Proud. Serious. Studious. All things one should be proud of in a young man’s position. Every single one of his teachers and wet nurses sung praises of the young prince since he began to toddle. And although it might seem cruel to admit it, the second prince was the apple of the Queen’s eye and the clear favorite of her four children.

Her sweet Aemond was a mild, studious young boy who practiced his faith in the Seven despite his blood lineage belonging to the Old Gods of Valryia. Besides Aegon, he had always been respectful to his siblings–especially to his elder sister, Helaena. Aemond would often humor his sister’s strange ramblings and gift her with little creatures he found as he wandered the ancient walls of the Red Keep. Helanea, despite all her reclusiveness, only seemed comfortable enough to be touched with her younger brother and often offered comfort whenever he complained about how unfair it was that he still had no dragon. His sister was as fond of her younger brother as he was of her and would usually humor his requests.

Except now.

“Please?” Aemond had been pleading for over an hour, reaching a point where most would pity him.

“No,” replied his sister sternly, “I’ve already told you my answer won’t change.”

“But why?” he pathetically asked as his voice cracked. It was good that Aegon was still in his room, too drunk to start the day. Aemond would never have lived it down without allowing his brother to see him like this. “I won’t ask for anything else from you, I swear it.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“But why?” demanded Aemond. “I would never harm (Y/N). Name one person in the Seven Kingdoms who would treat her better than I?”

Too upset by his sister’s refusal, the prince stormed out of the room in a near-blind rage.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) was no noblewoman or someone with any particularly wealthy connections or background. You weren’t even someone born within the Walls in the North.

No, you were from a tribe of wildings that hailed outside the Wall and were brought within the borders after your parents were caught stealing. The Starks decided to spare when they realized their daughter was just a tiny child with an incredible talent for storytelling. Within a year, the tales that Y/N wove with her tongue had reached the ears of Aemond’s father, King Viserys of House Targaryen. The King was fascinated by the young girl beyond the Wall, who spun tales of giants and spirits from the Land of Always Winter. He spared no expense in bringing you to King’s Landing.

Aemond could remember the day so clearly, as you arrived very shortly after his bastard nephew took his eye in Driftmark, and his father did nothing but protect his whore of a half-sister. When brought into the keep, you could hardly present yourself to a room full of nobles, let alone the King. You stood before his father and family barefoot and filthy. Your clothes looked closer to rags and torn cloth, and your (h/c) mane was wild with a few braids and feathers. But that hardly mattered. As soon as you opened your mouth, it was as if everyone in the Great Hall had been transported to another world.

The story you told started with a young princess given a toy soldier named the “Nussknacker.” The young princess loved her little toy soldier so much that her sweet Nussknacker came to life one night. He told the princess a prince to a winter wonderland full of fairies, sugar plums, and magic. His home had been overtaken by a maniacal Rattenkönig, and he turned the prince into his current form. The soldier and princess had to face many trials, but they were successful in defeating the evil Rattenkönig and saving the prince’s kingdom. The Nussknacker turned back into the handsome prince he had always been, and he and the princess married to lead his kingdom into prosperity.

By the time you finished telling your story, the Royal court went ablaze with applause. Your pretty words and skillful tongue enraptured every noble. They longed to hear more of your stories and were starved for entertainment. His father was in an especially jolly mood after hearing your tale. He immediately appointed you as the troubadour of the Royal Court held in protection under the Royal Targaryen House. A proclamation that horrified both the king’s Hand and the Queen, to say the least. It was no secret that Aemond’s mother and grandfather did not look favorably on you. More than once, he heard his mother seethe in anger at the attention her husband gave to you as you sat beside him during his father’s pain flares. In her eyes, you were a savage hellion who likely spread her legs up from the Wall in the North to the Great Hall of the Red Keep in the South.

But in Aemond’s eyes, you were an angel. It was not only his father’s pain you soothed with your stories, but also his own. He tried his best to keep his distance from you, but it wasn’t long until you gained his sister’s favor. From then on, whenever he spotted Helaena, you were by her side. The tall and icy walls he tried to maintain around you came crashing down before he knew it. His mother so loved him because he always did as she instructed, including to remain far away from the new child from beyond the North.

But one night, the scar on his eye had been so painful that he gained a fever that lasted for nearly a week. The maesters weren’t sure if he would survive the sickness, as it was a result of his lost eye being inflamed. His mother had resigned herself to crying by his bedside while his sister would sit with him and talk about her day. But one night, when he was delirious with pain, you somehow managed to sneak in from one of the secret tunnels within the keep’s walls. He couldn’t see you, but he recognized your voice. He wanted to scream for you to leave his room, threatening that he would call over the guards standing outside. But then you spoke, and it seemed as if his world of pain had just washed away. You spoke to him about the history of Old Valyria and the beautiful tales of dragons and knights that were lost in time. This continued on every night during his ailment.

“Do you miss your parents?” Aemond asked you one night. But he immediately regretted his question when he saw how your shoulders tensed.

“Sometimes,” you replied after a few moments of silence, “I understand that they are in a better place, wherever they are. But sometimes I wish they were here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

“But you have Helaena to be with you. Even my father adores your company.”

You only scoffed in response.

“Helaena is wonderful,” you bitterly continued, “I am glad to have a friend as sweet and kind as her in this poisonous hellhole you call home. But your father-” you paused a moment to lick your lips to figure out how to phrase your thoughts – “all he sees me as is a toy. A commodity. A funny little object that he bought to entertain him. He never mistreated me but does not respect me as a person, let alone as a subject.”

The tears in your eyes welled to the point where they almost spilled, and you immediately stopped talking to prevent further incriminating yourself.

“You have no idea what it’s like-” you let out a bitter laugh before continuing to cry – “to have your family taken away from you. To watch your parents be executed before your eyes when you were only a small child. And for what? Stealing a loaf of stale bread? What should that matter to the Starks? They have their pretty castle with warm fires and fur blankets. My mother and father worked for everything they had in order to care for me. Now here I am, away from the silver winter I called home and stuck in the shit-odor that covers precious South.”

“However much you hate your family, at least you still have them. I have no one. No one to share my culture and past with, no one to understand your customs and way of life. Call my parents whatever you want. Savages. Thieves. Scum. But they loved me. However little it was, they taught me to be proud of myself. They were my whole life, and now they’re gone.”

You ran out of his chambers and back into the wall. Aemond didn’t see you for several days, even after his fever broke and the maesters told his mother he would live. Two weeks passed, and Aemond felt as if he were going mad. When he finally spotted you in one of the more secluded areas of the library, he grabbed your arm before you could scurry off.

“Tell me,” he told you. “Tell me everything about your parents, your home. Tell me about how the air was clean and clear. Tell me about how everywhere you looked, you saw white snow and clear ice. Tell me how much you loved your family, pets, friends – if you had any. I don’t care what it is. Tell me everything.”

At first, you only stared. He couldn’t tell if you were furious or in shock. But soon, your eyes lit up as if you had been given five hundred gold dragons.

“Where do you want me to start?” you asked him, eyes wide with joy and a heart finally learning to trust.

Lo and behold, he found his heart beginning to feel the same.

“Wherever you want.”

The smile you gave him was worth more than all the money locked within the Royal Treasury.

So many nights since that day, you would sit by his bedside, speaking so prettily that even the most brutal of their acts and customs fascinated Aemond. You would burn the midnight oil, telling him about the adventures and raids of the Free People beyond the Wall. That’s how you referred to yourself as a “free woman.” While you despised the title “savage,” you did not mind being labeled as “wilding.” You claimed that since you were born outside the Wall, the laws of Westeros did not apply to you. You have been seen as wild, but you knew in your heart that you were born free. And what was more impressive to Aemond was how you honestly and sincerely believed that you were born as a free woman.

He saw it in the way you would make little shadow puppets shows to bring a smile from Daeron after it was announced that he would leave for Oldtown.

He heard it in how you got the cooks to spit on your name after stealing bread from kitchens and then giving it to the small folk children living in impoverished areas of Flea Bottom.

He smelt it in how your hair would always smell like the wind in the Godswood to ride his horse when you were supposed to be learning your letters with the Head Septa.

He tasted it when you let him take a sip of that rotten ale you made in secret when you went through one of your horrible bouts of homesickness.

He felt it in how you raced to his chambers to hug him after he woke up from another nightmare of the memory of that night when he lost his right eye.

You were the strangest mystery Aemond had ever and will ever know. No matter how long he spent searching for answers in his favorite corner of the library, Aemond could never understand how someone with a heart as warm as (Y/N) could come from the frozen wasteland she loved to call home.

With a single but powerful stroke of his blade, Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s upper jaw fell as the rest of his body dropped to the floor. Visenya’s Dark Sister had once more bathed in its victim’s blood. Gasps and shrieks filled the Great Hall at the sight of dark blood oozing from his corpse. The members of the Royal members all had varying reactions. From his mother’s side, Helaena immediately covered her eyes and turned away – utterly horrified by the swift mutilation. Aegon grimaced but was otherwise unaffected. Not surprising. He’d seen similar carnage from the illegal fight rings run in Flea Bottom. Aemond took a slight step back in shock as he gaped at the now-deceased lord in mild admiration.

He had no idea tongues were so long.

Prince Daemon Targaryen stood before his ailing brother, tall and proud. There was not a twinge of remorse or regret on his youthful visage as he towered over the spilled blood soaking his boots. Undoubtedly, this man carried the blood and fire of the proud dragons that graced their house.

“He can keep his tongue.”

Brutish as Daemon was known to be, Aemond respected his uncle’s instinct to remove objects that voiced slander against his wife. However much of a whore his half-sister may be, she was still of royal blood and their father’s firstborn.

However, he wasn’t sure how much that last fact mattered, considering how she spread her legs to swill only to produce bastards as her heirs.

His grandfather ordered the Kingsguards to disarm his uncle, but Daemon only scoffed as he wiped the blood off his ancient blade with an old rag. Moments later, Aemond’s decaying father collapsed on the Iron Throne in exhaustion after over-exerting himself. His mother immediately rushed over to aid him when she heard his pained groans.

“Call the Maesters!” she shouted before reaching him. And when his father fell into her arms, that was the first time Aemond saw you throughout this entire proceeding.

You stood close to the walls, remaining present but unseen. It was not until his father called for you by his side that he removed you from your hiding place. You and an apprentice Maester took Viserys to his chambers, leaving behind his wife, children, grandchildren, and every member of the Royal Court. As Aemond watched you carry his hobbling sire to his chambers – likely to recite to him a passage of the History of Old Valyria or one of the many tales surrounding Queen Visenya’s practice of the dark arts – his blood froze as he noticed Daemon’s gaze was focused not on his brother, but on you.

An hour had passed since Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s unfortunate passing, and Aemond was still no closer to finding you. He felt as if he was going mad in desperation. He checked everywhere. The kitchens, catching you sneak bites of freshly baked honey cakes. The stables, to find you feeding the mares and stallions carrots and apples. Your chambers, spying through the keyhole as you sat at your desk writing new stories. He even went so far as to ride to the dragonpit, hoping that you were reading to Vhagar again. He was close to announcing an order to search for you to the closest Kingsguard when he spotted you standing underneath the Heartstree. When another figure approached you, the one-eyed prince was about to call out your name.

Daemon. And judging by the way his violet eyes leered at your womanly form, it was clear to Aemond that this meeting was no coincidence. Aemond stepped out of view and pressed himself close to the garden’s entrance. The silver-tressed prince cursed himself for not publicly claiming you so everyone knew you were his and his alone. Differences in stations mattered little when you grew up so beautifully.

A fact he was sure that did not go unnoticed by his uncle despite meeting you for the first time.

Not for the first time did Aemond find himself cursing the gods for creating perfection in a single woman. Time had been unkind to many but seemed to spare you of any misfortune. While you were far from the polished and perfect image of a proper lady, you slowly but surely assimilated yourself to life in the South of the Wall. You traded your hides and furs for dresses and trousers. Your wild (h/c) mane became untangled by his sister’s ladies-in-waiting frequent brushings. Regular meals and proper care took a starving child with sharp, bony jabs to a woman with soft, feminine curves and beauty rivaling the Maiden herself.

“How have you found your time so far from the wall, little wilding?”

“I spent every waking second soaked and flushed from sweat and heat. To make it worse, I can’t escape the shit and piss that stains and bathes your pretty keep. Tell me, does that answer your question, my prince?”

Daemon barked a short laugh, amused that his brother took in someone so clearly different from the court’s usual vultures.

“When I heard my brother had taken in a little girl from outside the wall as his little entertainer, I was expecting a hobbled cripple caked in dirt with no sign of grooming. But here you stand, appearing more like a proper lady than a savage wildling.”

“You can take the girl from the North, but you can never take the North from the girl.”

No truer words had ever been spoken.

Aemond smiled at your quick wit and tongue. You were still every bit of the girl dragged before his father when he was only ten name-days old, even if you changed a little bit.

You still styled your hair with the little braids commonly worn in the North, but sometimes, he would catch Helaena tucking feathers in your locks.

You still carried your father’s old hunting knife on your person, but you also kept the Valyrian steel dagger Aemond gave you on Yuletide Eve from three years past.

You still made frequent trips to pass the bread to the small folk in Flea Bottom; you always made sure to help lead Aegon back to his bed after he drank himself stupidly.

It was a challenge, but you’ve adapted and made a life here with the Royal Family, whether you liked it or not.

“Do you ever plan on coming out from behind the wall, my prince? Or do you plan on renouncing your title and becoming Master of Whispers on your father’s small council?”

Realizing that his cover has been blown, Aemond brought himself in view to face the wildling girl who had stolen his heart almost eight years ago. He was relieved that his uncle had left the gardens, probably to inseminate his half-sister once more. It was as if she needed more children to convince all of King’s Landing that her claim on his brother’s throne was legitimate and valid. It did not matter that the evidence of her whorish nature was growing before their eyes.

“Careful, my lady,” replied Aemond, “one might think your words as treason towards the prince.”

“Please,” you scoffed, “the only people who continue to insist on taming my tongue are your mother and grandfather. And we both know my opinions of both parties.” Your cheeks began to flush, and your demeanor grew shy as you whispered your following words. “Besides, why would I need to be afraid of anything when I have you?”

Oh, how his cold, bitter heart grew ten times warmer with your sweet words. He removed his black riding gloves, reached for your hands, and was taken aback by how cold your skin felt against his own.

As if afraid of his voice, he cradled your hands softly as if he were the hunter and you were a little snow rabbit on the edge of running away. Your unblinking observation persisted as you silently watched your silver-haired prince raised both of your hands to his pink lips. He took in a deep breath before exhaling out. The heat of his breath against your fingers sent chills down your back. His mouth was opened just enough for you to see his tongue, bringing a deep sense of shame to wash over you as you dreamed of how good it would feel to have his tongue feast on your cunt.

“What possessed you to come outside without a cloak?” The low timbres of his voice broke you from your lust as you just now realized that you brought yourself into his trap. “It is already winter (Y/n). You could grow sick if you are not careful.”

“You forget yourself, Aemond,” you replied, tearing your hands from his grip. You almost wept at how profoundly you felt the loss of his warmth. When did his hands become so rough and big? “I have the true North in my veins. Such meek and pitiful clouds and winds could never get me ill.”

“Why were you outside at all?” Aemond had hoped to find you in one of the rooms with a fire roaring inside. Even if you were not alone, you would have been warm.

“Thinking about home, I suppose. I was tiny, but I would help gather whatever wood was available and put it in a big pile. We would put on our ceremonial furs and robes, along with masks we painted from the skulls of our kills. After that, the adults would drink themselves stupid on ale and heated yak’s milk as they and the children would gather around the wood pile and then burn it. I remember dancing with my parents around the fire as we sang praises for the old gods and yelled out prayers for the sun. A few boys would probably try to sneak some kisses from the girls with mistletoe.”

The silence that followed only added to the tension.

“I think I would have been stolen by now.”

“Stolen?”

“Your Southerners version of ‘marriage,’ I suppose,” you stated as you lightly shrugged, “at my age, if you weren’t stolen, it meant that something was wrong with you. If I remained with my tribe, some man would have stolen me by now and pumped me full of his babies.”

Aemond saw red. He clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles further paled to an almost translucent view of his veins as he imagined some savage, wildling man forcing himself on you. He wanted to ride Vhaghar beyond the North, if only reaching beyond the Wall and burning it all to the ground. No man other than him was allowed to touch you. He had only touched your hand and already decided that the rest of you belonged to him and him alone.

Taking a few steps closer to you, he removed his leather patch and lifted your chin between his fingers to force your focus on him. His ears caught a slight intake of breath when you saw his sapphire eye as he was so close that he could practically feel your heart racing in anticipation. He preened in satisfaction when he caught your perfect (e/c) irises dart down to his lips before resting his face again. Aemond didn’t need to look down to know that you were clenching your thighs in an attempt to stop your arousal from leaking.

His sister’s approval be damned.

If your traditions dictated that you must be ‘stolen’ to be a wife, then he would be the one to steal you.

“Sweet (Y/n), you’ve grown so cold.”

Do you wish to go back?

His face was so close to yours that you could feel breaths mix with your own. You could smell the fine leather of his tunic, and the fragrance of spices from his silvery locks wrapped you in a blanket of comfort. His violet eye’s gaze showed a vulnerability lost since that night in Driftmark. The night when he gained a dragon at the cost of becoming a cripple. If Aemond was to risk everything he’s worked for, he had to know.

Would you, a Free Woman, let yourself be called as his?

“No, my Aemond” - you took his hands in yours to tenderly kiss his knuckles- “not anymore.”

I am right where I belong.

And he believed you.

Tagging: @valeskafics, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @lady-ashfade , @faesspace, @its-actually-minicika, @aphroditesmoon, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @leavemeoutofitlay

[mllemarianne]

Striving

Aemond Targaryen x F!Strong!Reader

Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving

Summary: When you are summoned to King’s Landing to discuss the future of the Kingdom, Aemond is confronted by the ghosts of his past. Unfortunately, with grudges like these, it only takes a moment for one’s life to be turned upside down. It is why, on that frightful night, the people of the court gather in the throne room to hear the sad news. After all, any day the stranger comes to claim a life is a sad day… but whose life is it?

Word count: 18k 

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut (5k words of it!) Emotional hurt/comfort. Mentions of grief, neglect, absent parent. English is my second language.

N/A: Buckle up guys, you are in for a ride. This is the third and last part of their story. This part is a little different. A lot of Aemond POV (including the smut!) Aemond has come a long way, yet he still holds grudges... This time, it really feels like the ending Aemond deserves.

AO3 | Masterlist

AEMOND

Aemond stood on top of the castle walls, trembling in his icy drenched clothes. His wavy silvery hair flew in the faint wind, a sharp contrast with the storm that broke over the whole east coast of Westeros in the past few hours. The sun pierced the clouds and engulfed the region in a warm orange light, another sharp contrast with the dire predicament Aemond found himself in.

For a second time, he had to fly through atrocious weather on Vaghar above the Stormlands. The first time was indisputably unpleasant. It happened a few moons back. Seven to be precise. The pouring rain forced him to take shelter for a night in a grubbly inn. A night where he shared a bed with you. A night that changed everything.

This time, however… it had been truly horrific. For various and obvious reasons.

A few hours had gone by since he came back to the Red Keep. He could not spare a single minute to change, but at that point, he did not care. Too much had happened in such a short period of time and damp clothes were the least of his concerns.

Quietly crying, he glanced down at the people of the court walking through the yard to enter the castle. He observed your brother, followed by other knights, rushing to the entrance, shoving men and women aside. Mayhaps it was time for Aemond to get back inside too. Afterall, the announcement would be made in the throne room any minute.

Walking slowly, Aemond joined his brothers and sister on the dais where stood the Iron Throne. He instinctively wedged himself between the Queen and Helaena, seeking comfort. Dangling somewhere between numbness and sorrow, he dropped his head so no one could see his eye glisten in the dim lighting.

He did not have his eyepatch on and could not bear the stares. Not this time. 

Helaena hooked her arm through his. He appreciated the gesture since he knew of her disinclination towards physical contact. She had tears in her eyes too, her lips pressed in a thin line. He sneaked a peek at the rest of the royal family, gathered on the other side of the Throne. Jacaerys stood with his younger brother Joffrey, Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena and Prince Daemon. While some quietly exchanged words with each other, they all had something in common.

They had their eyes locked on Aemond.

They knew. 

Aemond glanced down at his feet again, his expression tortured, avoiding any and all of their stares. Prince Daemon, especially, appeared on the verge of slaughtering half the people in the room until Aemond’s older sister, Rhaenyra, came to stand before him and took his hand in hers. She did not look at Aemond for one second. 

Lords and ladies as well as knights flooded the throne room, all impatiently waiting to hear the news that had them cutting short their dinner. They knew one thing for sure. Three people were missing from the royal dais.

Maester Mellos asked both sides of the family for permission to proceed, then walked to the front and cleared his throat. “Even though it is almost the hour of the bat, we are gathered here in great sadness, for any day the stranger comes to claim a life is a sad day.”

Aemond was half listening. The old maester’s words almost felt like distant noises. He looked around the room now dark and gloomy since the sun had set. He noted your father and brother’s absence. They probably rushed to your chambers, to see for themselves…

To say that Aemond’s whole life changed in the span of a few hours was certainly… an understatement.

5 days before

AEMOND

"My lady, my lord. A raven from King’s Landing," a voice resounded through your chamber’s door.

You sighed, shoving your face in your pillow. Aemond groaned, his nose still buried in your sweaty neck. His front was pressed to your back, the pad of his fingers softly grazed the silky skin of your thighs, soothing the flesh he held onto so tightly until then.

It was definitely too early for ravens.

“No, stay,” he murmured in your ear when he felt you moved slightly. He wrapped his arms around your bust and belly, one of his hands cupping your tender breast. You mewled when he left a trail of kisses on your neck, setting your nerves ablaze again. You were basking in the afterglow of your joining still. He literally spent the last hour worshiping you thoroughly.

He only wished to breathe in your blissful scent, to savor your heavenly taste and to revel in the singular feeling of your warm velvety walls pulsing around his cock for a few moments more. You had yet to catch your breath, shivering all over whenever he dared move an inch.

Nuzzling the soft skin behind your ear, the corners of his mouth curled in a blissful smile. He liked the scent of you in the morning. Your very skin and hair smelled of honeysuckle and lush gardens— oils and flowers you bathed in every night to soothe the pains of carrying his heir these past seven moons. However, in the morning, usually after you shared your body with him, you smelled of love too. It was the only way Aemond could describe it.

When sweat veiled your skin after he had your heart beating fast. When you soaked his thighs, riding him into oblivion. When your hair stuck to your forehead while he trapped you under him and pounded into you mercilessly. When tears dried on your cheeks after he went on and on, faster and deeper, without relenting.

Aemond could not get enough. You were glowing with love and life. Mayhaps it was because of the little dragon growing in your womb, but it appeared you could not get enough of him as well. So he obliged you. Vigorously. Granted he did not need much convincing, even when the occasion did not call for it.

He smirked as he recalled you dismissing the lords during a council meeting just so he could fuck you senseless on the large wooden table. It was the least he could do since you were the one carrying his child.

That morning was no exception. The sun was high in the sky, which meant you were still sharing a bed when you should have been sharing duties of Lady and Lord of Harrenhal. That being said, leaving your side was not amongst Aemond’s utmost priorities. He grumbled his displeasure loudly as Maester Sylvan knocked once more.

"It is an urgent matter, I’m afraid," he stated, the chains he wore clanking against the wooden door of your chambers.

READER

You chuckled, while Aemond fumed. Since you were lady and lord of Harrenhal, you noticed how every raven was "a matter of most urgency". Although, you could understand why the poor Maester insisted.

You recalled how one day, Aemond had enough of the trivial messages delivered at dawn.

The news came that Lord Luthor Tyrell— your “betrothed for a day”—  got engaged to a daughter of House Baratheon of Storm’s End. Aemond all but crumpled the message and threw it in the fire angrily, asking the Maester why the news was deemed urgent.

You had shared with Aemond the last words you exchanged with Luthor, at your engagement feast of all places. Except you did not mention the “Enjoy being a cripple’s whore” comment, fearing Aemond would have left to go burn the entirety of Highgarden with Vaghar and possibly start a war with The Reach. Fearing for his life as well, the Maester excused himself and ran before you could say anything.

Aemond rubbed his marred cheek, looking desperate.

“Maester Sylvan insists on relaying any message immediately because the last time he didn’t, my mother gave birth to me and died before my father could reach her,” you revealed with a gentle tone.

A pink hue tinted Aemond’s cheeks. His shoulder sagged briefly before he straightened, crossed his arms behind his back and looked at you with contrition. He apologized sincerely.

“It’s alright, you did not know. Maester Sylvan all but raised me alongside my father until I was ten of age and moved to King’s Landing,” you explained, remembering how he used to secretly nick raspberry tarts from the kitchens to goad you into learning more houses of the realm as well as their sigils. “Besides, you don’t see me losing my mind at the mere mention of Lord Boros’ daughters. Weren’t you supposed to marry Ellyn?”

You heard a faint “hm” as an answer. 

After that, Aemond never complained about the early morning ravens again. You were used to his temper anyway. It was improving, at least.

Lost in your thoughts of urgent messages and raspberry tarts, you startled as Aemond kissed your shoulder and detangled himself from you. You winced as he left both your body and your bed, a cold draft hitting your behind as he lifted the sheets. He dressed quickly, opened the door and thanked the Maester for his diligence. He ordered the maids to draw you a bath and came back to you, half sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What does it say?” you asked his face all but drained of its colors.

“To Lady Y/n Strong and her husband Prince Aemond Targaryen, Lady and Lord of Harrenhal. You are hereby summoned to King’s Landing in order to celebrate the union of two great houses. Lady Helaena Targaryen, second daughter of King Viserys I, and Jacaerys Targaryen, crowned Prince and first born son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and the late Lord Lenor Velaryon, are to be wed. The King wishes for both families to meet in three days time to discuss the future of the Kingdom,” read aloud Aemond. “It is signed with your father the Hand’s seal.”

“Well… this is indeed an urgent matter. We have to make plans now,” you noted, already thinking of the burden of flying in your condition. Then you noticed Aemond was silent, reading the message over and over again. “Speak, but I know what you are thinking.”

“My father wants my sister to wed Jacaerys,” he groused, frowning horribly.

You took his hand and traced figures on his calloused palm. “…It was a matter of time. You saw them dance together at our wedding… You have to admit they are well matched… mayhaps it is a first step towards reconciliation.”

“We are past reconciliation,” he snarled, standing again to throw the message in the fire. “Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys made my life a living hell. For years. And my father never said a thing. Aegon is the only one who apologized since. Vaghar scares him to death,” he specified, looking at the scroll slowly turning into ashes. “But my nephews never showed a single glimpse of remorse. Not for the laughs, not for the fucking pig with wings and certainly not for ganging up on me and taking my eye. They probably still think it was justice well served for ‘stealing’ Vaghar.”

You did not push him any further. Even though almost ten years had passed, it still pained him. However nice it had been at Harrenhal, you knew resentment lurked under his skin irregardless. You felt it every time the crowned Princes or his father were mentioned. Aemond was all about strength, will and power. On the outside, at least. You knew him as a passionate and caring man too. He was complex, hiding a very vulnerable side still hurting from years of mistreatment and neglect.

In spite of it all, not once have you seen him actually cry. Even when you confessed your love in each other's arms during your adventures in the Stormlands. Even when he realized you had dragged him to a Valyrian wedding. His eye was bright with unshed tears but his determination to look strong always won in the end. When you were younger, whenever he spent time with his nephews, he always came back to you looking pitiful but never tearful. That is when you began going to the library every night with him. You wanted Aemond to know that he had a friend in the Red Keep. The rest was history.

Aemond buttoned his tunic, put on his boots and hung his sword to his leather belt before he left to sort out your departure. The guards had to leave on foot now while you would join them in two days time on dragonback. You got up as well, both hands on your round belly, and went to bathe in floral oils and herbs like Maester Sylvan recommended. It did soothe the pain in your lower back and the nausea that burdened you lately. Sitting in your bath and closing your eyes, you realized how things changed during the last seven moons since you wed and moved to Harrenhal.

These days, you took baths and enjoyed leisurely walks in the meadows— that is, when your lower back allowed you— instead of training in the morning. When Maester Sylvan confirmed you were with child, Aemond all but denied you entry to your training yard. You were outraged.

He was anything but a fool. He waited for you at the entrance the next morning to make sure you turned right back around. He outright refused to even unsheathe his sword in your presence. Unsurprisingly, not a single knight dared offer sparring with their expecting lady either. Especially when your Prince was there to stare them down. You ultimately yielded, agreeing to simply observe— ogle really— Aemond in his training gear.

Your husband started to embrace his appearance too. For so long it hurt to see the frightened look on people’s faces… even if he drew satisfaction from scaring away the knights who got too friendly with you or the lords who wanted a dance during feasts.

Yet after a while, he started showing up to the training yard without his eyepatch. Then at the council meetings. In the end, he even attended dinners and feasts without it. The people grew accustomed to his beautiful glowing sapphire eye. He even seemed to forget about the gem, only to be reminded of it when he spied blue specks of lights dancing on someone’s face when the sun was out.

His appetite also changed. You thought he was insatiable before, but it was nothing compared to the beast he had become since you had your own little kingdom. Once upon a time, you had a little game where he kissed you when no one was looking. The game somehow changed a little since. Harrenhal was full of dark corners and secret passages. Lately, you found yourself, more often than not, pressed up against a stone wall or lying down on a window seat with your Prince driving in and out of you, swallowing your cries with a kiss.

“I enjoy the sight of you walking around with me dripping down your thighs,” he shamelessly confided in you once, letting down the hem of your dress after he ruined you in an alcove before a council meeting. His filthy words got to you every time.

It was no secret that he thrived now that he got out of King’s Landing. At Harrenhal, he took part in the running of the Riverlands as head of the council, by your side. He oversaw the army training and battle strategy. He taught swordplay and hand-to-hand combat to new recruits. He had access to a thousand new books thanks to your ancestors' love for academics. And since you were eager to learn, Aemond taught you High Valyrian too.

It was like after years of aimlessly roaming the halls of the Red Keep, he found a purpose. Seeing him like that, content and untroubled, filled you with so much joy you thought you would burst. 

That is why going back to King’s Landing made you so nervous.

2 days before

READER

Aemond had a special saddle made for Vaghar so you could ride comfortably in front of him without squashing the child. It had so many ropes and chains that you scoffed as he gently tied you to it.

“There may be bad weather. I’m not watching you fall off this dragon,” he justified patiently.

Unfortunately, the flight gave you a crippling nausea. When you landed on the beach of King’s Landing two hours later, you were white as a sheet and wished for nothing but rest. He fussed when you climbed down the net on Vaghar’s side as well.

Aemond took great care of you, and you were grateful by all means, but sometimes you liked to remind him you were not a delicate flower and if not for your belly, you could knock him to the ground in a training yard. Each time he smirked and kissed your cheek as an apology. He knew you had a temper too.

You climbed all the steps to the Red Keep and met Queen Alicent and Princess Halaena at the top. The Queen went to her son immediately, wrapping her arms around him in a warm loving hug. She embraced you as well, overjoyed. “Blessed be The Mother, a child so soon,” she teared up, pressing a hand on the side of your belly. “Come. The King will join us shortly. The rest of the family is in the great hall.” 

Aemond stayed with his mother, but it was not by choice. She held onto him so tight he glanced at you for help at one point. But who were you to deny a Queen the presence of her own beloved son?

You walked alongside Halaena who seemed positively radiant. You knew she was happy about her betrothal. You saw how Jacaerys asked her for a dance at your wedding and how they treasured each other’s company for the rest of the night. 

You kept that information to yourself, but a part of you felt like you should reach out to Aemond’s nephews… well, your nephews too it seemed. You hoped it was finally the beginning of a new era, where both families put their differences aside and started working together toward a better future for the Kingdom. Except you knew without a doubt that the heart of the problem resided in one dreadful night in Driftmark when a child was armed and no justice was served. 

The whole royal family was indeed in the great hall, discussing with the people of the court. You stared back at your Prince immediately.

He tensed before the crowd. He reached into his pocket and fished out his eyepatch. You did not even know he took it with him. It saddened you when he put it on quickly before he joined his brothers, Prince Aegon and Prince Daeron.

You did not see any familiar faces yet. Your father was with the King of course, and your brother would not mingle with the royal family in these circumstances anyway. So you followed Princess Helaena who joined Prince Jacaerys, and his siblings.

“Your graces, ladies.” You bowed to the Princes and greeted Lady Baela and Rhaena. They greeted you back, but it was Prince Lucerys who stepped forward and spoke directly to you.

“We know you know. Sir Harwin told us,” he hushed.

On the day of your wedding, you questioned your brother once and for all and demanded the truth. He confirmed he was indeed the father of the three crowned Princes. He apparently had an arrangement with Prince Daemon who did not resent him nor Princess Rhaenera, but wished to keep Harwin at Dragonstone. For the Princes’ sakes.

That is when Harwin abdicated his title of heir of Harrenhal. It was his wedding present to you and Aemond, in a way. The biggest castle in Westeros— even if some of it melted a bit long ago—, vast green lands with rivers and lakes, a large army… It still felt surreal to have all that to yourself. You were a second born as well, and second born usually get nothing. Also, you were a woman. Your father never treated you any differently for it, but he warned you that it would not be the case with every other lord you would cross paths with.

“Oh, I see. Of course he would,” you answered hesitantly. “As a matter of fact… I wish we could know each other better, your grace.”

“You are part of the family now. In more than one way,” he said in hushed tones, referring to you technically being their aunt. “You can drop the formal titles.”

Aemond and Helaena were the only ones you dared address without a title. Never had you dreamed of doing the same with the crowned Princes. “Old habits die hard” but you would try.

“I’m obviously in no condition to train with you in the morning, but perhaps you would join me for a tea later today? All of you. Baela and Rhaena too.”

“Will he be there?” bluntly inquired Baela before her sister Rhaena subtly elbowed her in the ribs. Knowing who “he” was, you glanced at the other side of the hall to find Aemond already looking at you with fire in his eye. You realized you were still standing quite close to Princ— to Lucerys. You took two steps back hastily and addressed Baela’s question with the truth.

“I don’t believe he would join us, no. I wish we could discuss this as well. It is my desire that we find a way to… ease tensions at the very least.”

“Say that to him. We never had a problem with you. He is the one staring like he is about to murder us,” muttered Baela. You did not need to turn your head around to know exactly what Aemond looked like that very moment. Surprisingly, it was Rhaena who stepped forward and spoke to you.

“I’ve come to peace with my mother’s dragon being claimed by Aemond a long time ago. I have Morning now and I love her so very dearly. We could indeed put all this behind us,” she spoke serenely. “I’m ready… but is he?”

“It’s me he resents, not you,” Lucerys intervened. “I’m not ashamed I defended my brother during the brawl, but I regret hurting Aemond. Truly.”

You knew it would not be that simple. Not when Aemond just came back to this wretched place, as he often called it. Not as he was forced to put his eyepatch back on. And obviously not while he shared that space with the very people who changed his life in one night with one knife.

Aemond’s whole being was tainted by the events occurring on that dreadful night he claimed Vaghar. Even if Lucerys came forward and begged for forgiveness, you were not sure Aemond would ever feel inclined to offer it to him.

You discussed some more, mainly about how life was respectively at Harrenhal, Dragonstone and Driftmark. When it was announced that the King would join you in the Throne room, you went back to Aemond who wasted no time asking what in the seven hells you were doing. He asked calmly but firmly, reaching for your hand.

“I’m establishing a peaceful relationship with the crowned Princes now that I am part of this family and Lady of Harrenhal,” you affirmed, lacing your fingers to his.

“They don’t deserve this kindness,” he stated, glaring at them on the other side of the hall.

“They are my family as well,” you replied, lowering your voice. “I’m not doing this to vex you, Aemond. And for all we know, mayhaps our child will marry one of theirs one day. I’m merely saying that… We want to build a better future. If not for us then for our child. It does not mean I forget.”

Aemond frowned at your answer as his father walked through the doors. King Viserys seemed overwhelmed as he welcomed each member of his family. Clutching at his chest, he gazed upon all the familiar faces reunited in one room for the first time in a long time. When he got to you, he rejoiced as he saw your round belly. “Lady Strong, what a wonderful sight!”

“Your grace,” you bowed slightly, as gracefully as your lower back pain allowed you. Aemond instantly circled an arm around your waist to support you.

“Father.” Aemond respectfully bowed his head as well.

“My son, I’m so very glad to see you,” beamed the King, a sincere smile on his lips. A smile that Aemond, unfortunately, did not return. The King went on to greet his youngest son Daeron.

You felt bad for your Prince. You knew what he thought of his father. Neglectful. Absent. Unjust. Aemond rarely spoke of his childhood for many reasons. The King being one. You met him when you were both ten of age, and for the ten years that had gone by, you barely recalled a handful of times you saw them interacting. They did not have the kind of warm relationship you had with your father, the Hand.

In all sincerity, you felt bad for the King as well. He seemed genuinely happy to see Aemond again. The Queen followed him around closely, holding his arm throughout the very short moment he was actually in the hall. 

Aemond long debated whether to accompany you to tea with his nephews and nieces or not. He did not want to attend but leaving your side bothered him as well. In the end, he joined his mother and siblings instead.

Although, Vaghar flew above your heads at one point during your meal in the gardens. Her roar had your table and teacups shake, spilling tea in the saucers. Servants grabbed plates of pastries so they would not fall on the ground. You were not impressed Aemond wanted to taunt them while you actively fought for peace. 

“I thought he was handsome,” Rhaena admitted, slightly blushing.

“I beg your pardon?” Lucerys half spit his tea all over his lemon cakes, surprised at his bethroted’s words.

“Luthor Tyrell is a pompous arsehole of inordinate proportions,” you asserted unashamedly.

“I like her,” Baela smirked, turning to her sister Rhaena.

Jacaerys then cleared his throat and addressed the most delicate and obvious of all subjects. “How is Prince Aemond? Obviously, he did not want to join us. We understand why, but—”

“I’m surprised he even let you come here alone,” cut Baela under her breath.

“Baela!” admonished Rhaena. “It is unbecoming.”

“Don’t fret,” you reassured, raising a hand in reassurance. “You are right, Jacaerys. Aemond did not want to have tea with us today, especially since he did not know that I was planning on it for a while. Of course I wish for both families to mend their bridges. I will not speak for him however. He can do it in his own time.” You turned to Baela. “Lastly, if you are under the impression that Aemond Targaryen controls my every move, you are sorely mistaken.”

“Hm.”

You froze in place as you recognized the sound all too well. No one looked at you anymore. “He is right behind me, isn’t he?” you asked in a low voice. Jacaerys nodded as you felt Aemond’s hand on your shoulder. His long fingers brushed against your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear. “I was fetching you for a walk, my love.”

“Oh,” you managed to articulate, your whole being distracted by his hand skimming the nape of your neck and plunging down the back in your dress. “Yes, of course.”

“Nephews. Nieces,” he added, acknowledging their presence at last. They nodded politely in return. You thanked them for their company and asserted your wish to do it again soon.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Aemond inquired politely when you were at a safe distance, extending his arm so you could grab it.

You chose your words carefully since he was visibly grumpy.

“Well, if you wish to remain in my good graces, you will stop flying Vaghar above our heads when we’re having tea in the garden. You almost had our entire tray of apricot tarts fall in the dirt. Wars have been waged for less.”

The corners of his mouth curled into a smirk. He was proud of his little stunt. You were not surprised. Unimpressed, but not surprised.

He stayed silent, so you continued tentatively. “They changed, Aemond. And for what it’s worth, Lucerys regrets what he did and I truly believe he would like to formally apologize. Baela is feisty and protective of her sister, but Rhaena is at peace with what happened.”

“Apologies do not magically absolve you of anything,” he retorted, pulling on your arm so you left the marked path and went through a line of shrubs. “The other person may never forgive you and you have to live with that possibility. I will never forgive them, and they have to accept that.”

Your walk was short since you experienced small contractions. Maester Sylvan told you it was normal to have some from time to time during the three last moons. The womb was preparing itself for the birth. 

You went to your favorite secret spot far away in the gardens to lay down in the tall grass under your favorite willow tree. You reached for his eyepatch and took it off.

“Sȳrkta,” you whispered. Better.

You kissed his marred cheek and he smiled. Your High Valyrian was improving, but you understood it more than you spoke it. You held him tight in your arms and watched the clouds as he mindlessly brushed your long hair with his fingers. When your belly moved on his own, he pressed his hand to it to feel the little dragon inside.

Thoroughly exhausted, you slowly drifted off, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the nearby coast…

“Nyke jaelagon īlin rȳ lenton,” you heard before you fell asleep in his arms. I wish we were at home.

AEMOND

Came the moment you left Harrenhal for. Aemond wished you could attend the council meeting but you were indisposed. When you woke up from your nap in the gardens, you were a little cranky. The pain in your back was killing you and the nausea was horrible since you got to King’s Landing.

The city stank, you were too hot, your dresses were too tight and just looking at the multiple flights of stairs gave you hives. He knew everything bothered you ten times more because of your condition, so your maid Maeva escorted you back to your chambers to bathe while Aemond went alone to the council chamber.

He dreaded that moment ever since he got the raven two days before. You were not fit to travel for extended periods of time on dragonback. You had much to do at Harrenhal like supervising the rebuild of the east tower for your new chambers and nursery. He had new recruits to train too.

As he sat at the large table, Aemond could not imagine why the entire family had to gather in King’s Landing for. He looked at his father who seemed happy to be in the presence of his entire family, for once. Strangely, there was something he could not decipher in his eyes. Then again, Aemond did not know him enough to guess what it could possibly be.

 “Shouldn’t we be addressing the Baratheons of Storm’s End and the Tyrells of Highgarden forming an alliance through marriage behind our backs?” suggested Daemon who sat nonchalantly at the other end of the table.

“Yes, brother. But for now, I wish to speak of the line of succession,” dismissed the King in one breath.

“What about it?” queried Daemon suspiciously, a warning somewhere in his tone. He exchanged a quick glance with Rheanyra.

It did seem positively pointless. Jacaerys was to marry Helaena and he would sit on the Iron Throne eventually, end of the story. Nothing more could be said on the subject. 

“Rhaenyra, you are heir to the iron throne, with Daemon at your side. Nothing will ever change that. I purely wish to make sure no one is overlooked,” reassured the King, clearing his throat.

Well. That was unexpected.

“Before the moon turns, Jacaerys and Haelena will be man and wife. They will be heir to the iron throne after you, Rhaenyra. Which means Dragonstone will be vacant. Joffrey, and his betrothed Baela, shall be heir to Dragonstone. Lucerys, as the second oldest son of the late Leanor Valaryon, will be heir to Driftmark with his betrothed, Lady Rhaena.”

His nephews and nieces looked ecstatic, understandably. Aemond fought not to roll his eye.

“My firstborn son, Aegon, shall inherit the Hightower family seat in Oldtown with its lands, army and fleet,” the King announced before he turned to Aemond. “My second born son Aemond is settled at Harrenhal already, thanks to his union with Lady Y/n Strong, heir to its castle, lands and army. Then comes young Daeron who is betrothed to Lady Amyra of Winterfell…”

Aemond’s eye narrowed in confusion. The King went on speaking of the lands he gifted to his grandchildren Viserys, Aegon and even the unborn child in Rhaenyra’s womb… until Aemond was not listening anymore.

Nothing?

His father bestowed islands, gold, castles and lands on every child and grandchild… except him? 

Anger simmered under his skin. He tried to keep his temper under control but he snapped when members of the council applauded at the end of his father’s speech.

“What happened to you making sure nobody was overlooked?” he spoke fiercely. “Forgive me father, but I find it hard to sit back and applaud when even unborn children get lands when I get absolutely nothing.”

“You are Lord of Harrenhal, nephew,” drawled Daemon. “Men would kill to get this small kingdom, sit down.”

“Daemon, please.” Viserys lifted a hand to silence his brother. “Now is not the time to bicker.”

Aemond knew he was most fortunate, having Harrenhal and the whole of the Riverlands in his grasp. Ever since he was born, he was destined to be a war commander at most, but got lucky when his wife became heir. Hells, he did not give a single fuck about Dragonstone or the Hightower family seat. He did not wish for a second castle. He just wanted… something. Was he not worthy of anything? His father showered everyone else in gifts and gold while he was ignored. Again.

He was always the overlooked son. The second son. The crippled second son. Suddenly his scar itched awfully. His hands stimmed on the handle of his knife as he fought the urge to rip his eyepatch off.

The King stood up slowly and a heavy silence fell upon the room. Aemond saw his mother’s nervous stare in the corner of his eye as he did not sit back down while his father spoke.

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around this table. The faces most dear to me in all the world. You’ve grown so distant from each other in years past. The crown cannot stand strong while the House of the Dragon remains divided,” condemned the King in a ragged breath. “I merely gave to those who needed receiving… So tonight, I ask for one thing… as your father, your brother, your husband, your grandsire… I asked that you set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man, who loves you all so dearly.”

Still standing, Aemond looked his father in the eyes and said the words he waited all his life to say out loud.

“You never were a father to me.”

The silence was even louder. You could hear the fire crackling in the hearth, but it was nothing on the fire that burned in Aemond’s chest— the fire of a thousand dragons. His father looked down, his hand trembling on the pommel of his sword.

“I taught myself High Valyrian,” Aemond continued, his stare hard and unfaltering. “I learned how to ride a dragon alone. I trained, studied and explored the realm all on my own. I lost an eye and not even then did you carry some sort of justice. Your own son was attacked and you did not care in the least. My wife was more of a family member than you ever were. So forgive me if I don’t stand back and watch when, again, I’m reminded that I’m nothing to you.”

“Aemond!” he heard his mother cry out as he stormed off. “Aemond, come back!”

He briefly glanced back when he turned left in the hallway. He saw his father crashing in his seat, shattered at his son’s words, a hand over his heart, his mother rushing to his side.

Walking fast, Aemond first wanted to get back to you and to lose himself in your embrace until you made him see stars…

But you were probably still bathing. Besides, he could not bear to see the worry in your eyes as you learned that he, once again, lost his temper. In front of the whole family this time.

He grabbed a hood in his old chambers, went straight to the beach and flew on Vaghar in the night sky like he did that first time he claimed the beast. He wanted to leave the castle. He needed to think. He needed clarity.

READER

When you thought Aemond came back to your chambers that evening, you were surprised to see your father slipping through your door instead. He explained what happened at the council meeting and how Aemond just… left. 

He climbed on Vaghar and left.

You knew he would never abandon you. He was probably blowing off some steam and, of course, he did not want to burden you. It saddened you to see Aemond losing all the assurance and serenity he found at Harrenhal these past few months. Now resentment and frustration consumed him again. You felt the heartbreak even down in your belly and pressed your hands on either side.

Your father’s company soothed you for a while. With Aemond’s absence, you came to realize that… you have no one except for him. Even your brother was busy with his duties. You tried to ease tensions with the Princes, but they were never close to you— namely because of how close to Aemond you always were.

Helaena came later to comfort you. She brought with her a large book depicting the many insects of Westeros and one of the castle’s cats. “They both bring me comfort when I’m alone,” she prompted as you petted the little purring creature.

Hours passed. The room was dark and the fire had died long before when the sound of your door jolted you awake. You saw a glimpse of long silvery white hair and immediately tried to stand up.

"No, don’t get up. Don’t move," Aemond whispered hurriedly.

He only had his white shift and leather trousers on. He carried the rest in his arm and threw it all on the ground beside your bed. His hair was damp and wavy. 

"Are you alright?" you asked in a husky voice.

"Yes,” he answered, taking off the rest of his clothing. He flipped his hair and his delicious sandalwood and amber scent hit you at once. He bathed before he came to your chambers. And now he was gloriously naked before you, one of his hands reaching for your hip. “I just need you right now… Is that alright?"

“Always. Come here.” You lifted the sheets behind you. He climbed in your bed and he wrapped his arms around your body, one circling your neck, immediately plunging his hand in your collar to grab your plump breasts. The other rumpled the hem of your nightgown until he bared your bottom half to him. He caressed your swollen belly while he peppered your neck with kisses. His breath was ragged. As if he was desperate.

“You are so good to me, Y/n…” he purred in your ear, making your whole body shiver.

AEMOND

For a second, Aemond forgot everything. He forgot about his father who all but confirmed he could not care less about him. He forgot about the snarks and gossip following him literally anywhere in the Red Keep. He forgot about the damn eyepatch itching his skin again, having him on edge all day. And he forgot about his nephews and nieces who were rewarded and all looked at him like he was the problem.

At least he had you.

He had you and he did not need anybody else. Having you in his arms was worth a thousand castles, gold coins and books combined. After the evening he had, he only wished to be with the only person who treated him right, who looked at him without flinching, who loved him for all that he was.

You arched your back against him when he eagerly caressed every inch of your soft skin. Especially your swollen belly. 

Only three moons after your wedding did he notice a small bump appearing. If Maester Sylvan was right, it was entirely possible that the child was conceived before the wedding. Your father had moon tea delivered nightly to your chambers but you never cared to take it. Aemond never would have pressured you, but you were eager to start a family. 

You moaned softly when his fingers delicately parted your legs and cupped your cunt, looking for that sensitive little bud. He hovered, skimmed and teased without putting any real pressure with the hands you loved so much. He knew exactly how to unravel you, even when you were half awake. He grinded his hard cock against you, the head brushing the wetness between your thighs.

“You can talk to me, my love,” you breathed, but Aemond did not feel like it. 

“For now, I just want to feel you…” he confessed, biting your ear.

You yelped.

“…I want to fuck you until you are clenching down on my cock so hard that I can’t remember my name,” he growled, the tip of his manhood slowly brushing against your center. "Can you do that for me, love?” 

“Ye- yes,” you stuttered. He smirked, liking the power his filthy words had on you. 

Eyes closed, still sleepy, you lazily moved your hips as his fingers dipped in and out of you now. You sighed and he kissed the crook of your neck. He kept the pace until your breaths were short and you writhed against him. You quickly soaked his hand and mewled in your pillow as he kept circling your clit with his thumb.

You filled his hands so deliciously lately. Not only had your belly swollen, your breasts were definitely more full, nearly spilling from your dresses every time you took a breath. He found himself side-eyeing them constantly, trying to be subtle about it. Your behind felt more round too, your thighs soft and squishy. Aemond could barely keep his hands to himself, even now, one of them caressed your full breasts while the other expertly rubbed the most intimate part of you. 

You were glowing, brimming with life, even in that stinking nightmare of a city. He could always count on you to turn on the light even in the darkest of places. You were a beacon calling to him, his port in a storm, his moon in a starless sky. 

He pressed his front to your back even more, pulled one of your legs up and pressed his cock to your core. Your hand reached back for his neck, desperate to touch him.

Usually, he would have you come on his hand at least once before he buried himself into you, but not tonight. He needed you. And he knew you could take it. 

Inch by inch, he entered you and you exhaled loudly. With a few strong thrust, he seated himself fully and grunted in your neck, inhaling your sweet honeysuckle and flowers scent.

Warm. So warm. And tight. 

His strong hand held you in place by your hip while you whined at the stretch, your walls strangling his cock as you struggled to take all of him. His fingers digging in your smooth skin, he gently rolled his hips to bury himself all the way. The exquisite feeling had him lose himself almost instantly. Then he really moved.

He filled you again. And again. And again. Harder. Deeper. Faster.

De drew all sorts of sounds out of you and loved every second of it. Nothing brought him more satisfaction than hearing you panting— or better still, screaming— his name when you fell apart under his ministrations. That at least, he knew he was doing right. Oh how he liked to see you lose your mind. All because of him. All because of how good he was to you. 

He knew you by heart, so when you rewarded him with a few yelps, he picked up the pace until the obscene sound of your joining echoed on the stone walls of your chambers.

He angled your hips and reached deeper even, pleasure building quickly and almost painfully at the base of his spine. You felt so good around his cock, he feared he might find his pleasure before you found yours.

And that, he could not allow.

Not once had you left his bed unsatisfied, and that day was no exception. He needed you to come. Now.

He let down your leg and you both groaned at the tightness. You cursed when his finger teased your clit. The hand holding your belly went to your neck instead and he squeezed gently. You gasped, your legs beginning to shake. 

“You like when I hold you tight, hm?” he asked in a ragged breath. You nodded.

When he had you silent, he knew he was doing good.

“You like it when I do all these things to you? When you have no choice but to take it?”

“Uhum” you nodded.

“Uhum?” he smugly echoed you, and you cried out, trashing against him.

He knew you liked to believe you were a lady in charge. It amused him when he heard you tell his nephews and nieces that you were the one holding the reins.

“I may not control you outside these walls… you may be Lady of Harrenhal… but in our bed, I’m your King,” he sneered in your ear, emphasizing the last word with a sharp thrust. You shuddered and clenched down on his cock so tight he groaned against your ear.

Pleasure wracked through you instantly. Aemond held you while your whole body shivered against his. Your walls strangled him so tight, it felt like a vice. Your head fell back against his shoulder, your jaw hanging open, forming a perfect O shape.

“You look exquisite when you fall apart, my love,” he breathed against your cheek, nearing his peak as well. “You are so good to me.” You whimpered helplessly, your nails digging in his forearms. “Only me.” For a moment, he believed he had you forget about the pain in your back. No discomfort, nothing. Just pleasure. Overwhelming, mind numbing, soul shattering pleasure. “Mine.”

And he fucked you through your orgasm. Your whimpers turned to wails as he went in and out, keeping his torturous pace. You groaned his name, your hands frantically reaching back for him, but he held you tight. You cursed profusely yet praised how good he made you feel. He snapped his hips a few more times, until you reached yet another release. 

“Aemond!” you screamed and just like that, he was gone, hit by a shattering climax. For a moment, he lost his vision. His mind went absolutely blank and air left his lungs. His whole body spasmed, head buried in your long hair, roaring his pleasure and spilling himself deep within you. 

He shivered, feeling your walls rippling around his sensitive cock.

He panted in your neck, nuzzling your sweaty flesh.

He inhaled deeply, close to being drunk on your scent.

He loved the smell of you in the morning. You smelled of love.

He kissed your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your hair.

He felt you trembling in his arms, squirming to detangle yourself from him.

He tightened his embrace.

“I’m not done,” he growled in your ear. 

You cried out as an answer, writhing against him as if you were trying to get away but he held you firmly. He knew you liked it.

He caught his breath for a moment, kissing your temple as you moaned in anticipation. He knew he could carry on. He wanted to carry on. He did not want it to be over yet.

Throbbing against your pulsing walls, he resumed his pounding while you desperately clawed at his arms. It only made him hold you tighter, his fingers circling your swollen clit as well.

He coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were an absolute mess. Even when he feared he was too intense, you surprised him by begging for more.

You were truly perfect.

The high pitch sounds you made were a symphony to his ears, like a reward for going through such a wretched day.

When your cries turned into sobs, he knew you had enough. He buried himself to the hilt and exploded, filling you again with his seed, sinking his teeth in your neck to muffle his own cry of pleasure.

You both needed a moment to recover. You startled when he wiped away the tears that fell on your cheeks. Even the slightest touch had you flinching. You liked it when he unleashed himself fully but seeing you almost broken afterwards worried him sometimes. You were quick to reassure him as your trembling hands reached for his and you kissed his fingers one by one.

Then his hand found its way back to your belly. He shifted but kept you impaled on his manhood, still not ready to lose the intimacy, unable to let go of you yet.

“Please, you have to let me rest, my love” you begged, shivers going down your spine as he twitched inside you.

"But you are so warm," he pleaded sleepily in your ear. 

"You want to sleep like this!?” you yelped, mildly shocked. He felt your slight panic as you tried to stay still, unequivocally overstimulated.

"I’d spend my life buried in that cunt," he answered truthfully, leaving open mouth kisses on your jaw. His fingers grazed your sensitive skin and you shivered terribly. 

"Sounds exhausting," you jested.

"Sounds like the last seven months,” he quipped. You laughed and he gripped your waist harshly, groaning at the sudden tightness when your muscles clenched on his softening cock. "Shhh sleep. ‘Tis almost morning anyway.”

Neither of you did, in fact, sleep.

Not even ten minutes had gone by that you lost every bit of the sanity left in you. Your walls pulsed at the cruel pressure and you started grinding on him shamelessly. So he resumed his sweet torture until the sun was up.

Until you were soaked with both your cum.

Until the feathered bed was definitely ruined.

Until you almost lost consciousness.

Until he truly lost himself in you.

1 day before

READER

At midday, the Queen fetched you. You did not show up to break fast with the rest of the family, nor did you join her for tea later on. You stayed in late, making up for the hours of sleep and energy Aemond robbed from you when he came back at dusk.

Queen Alicent implored her son to get up at once and go to his father to apologize for his behavior. Aemond downright refused. She acknowledged his struggle, but assured him that his father meant well. It was years late, but the King wanted to make amends now.

“Then why are you here instead of him?” Aemond asked, putting on his tunic carelessly.

“He… he is not as young as he used to be. Please, go to him. He loves you, Aemond. He loves you and he is proud of you. Just apologize for your outburst.”

“No.”

Then he stormed off and ordered the maids to draw you a bath. Even when his patience was tested, he thought of you. You saw sorrow in The Queen’s eyes and you promised you would try to speak to him about it, but that you would not insist if he refused again.

“You are the only person he listens to,” she said with a faint smile before she left.

If only that were true. Aemond was awfully headstrong, and visibly struggled to be back in the capital. You let him fuck you senseless until the sun was up because you wanted to, yes, but also because you felt like he needed it. He needed you. He loved to give you pleasure and get praised in return. That you noticed early on when you got intimate.

Your bodies joined for what felt like hours, leaving you the good kind of sore. However, when pleasure completely ebbed out from your every limb, you were immediately reminded of the downsides of carrying his heir. You should be grateful to the Mother for such a precious gift, but could not fathom doing it for two moons more.

Aemond called from the water chamber. He sat beside the tub and rubbed your neck while the oils and flowers worked their magic. He whispered sweet nothings in High Valyrian, his hands soothing your tensed back as you spoke back in the best of your capabilities.

He wanted to be with you. Alone with you. He wanted comfort and for years, you were the only one who provided him with it.

In the afternoon, Aemond spent time with his siblings as you sat in the gardens with your family. Your father and brother wished to speak of how you ran Harrenhal.

You learned that Master Sylvan sent reports by ravens every week. Turns out you did an outstanding job at training new boys and girls from the court. Well, not you. Aemond did. He reinforced the military strategy as well. As for you, you established great relations with the houses of the Riverlands and the people. You eased decades old tensions between some families and helped build a lasting peace in the land. You both ruled fairly, wisely and you inspired respect. Everything your father knew you would achieve.

Your heart burst with pride… yet something lingered in your mind. As good as you were at resolving conflicts between the people at Harrenhal, you wished you could do something about the strife at the very heart of this castle.

When it was time to attend Jacaerys and Helena’s engagement feast, you did not know how to brush the subject with Aemond. You waited all night, sitting by his side, thinking how you could sneak the subject in your conversations. Aemond never liked feasts to begin with. In King’s Landing, at least. But he had a good day so far… It was worth a try. Yet when you finally found the courage to talk to him, you saw the King leave the hall with your father and some knights in tow. 

Then you swore you saw the King leaned on your father for support as the door closed behind them. “My love… I think you need to speak with your father,” you spoke privately in his ear. “Now.”

He kissed your hand, but calmly replied: “I won’t. I only wished for one peaceful evening before we leave for Harrenhal in the morrow.” You nodded, but worried nonetheless when the Queen left as well.

At least, the feast was a success. Halaena was elated to dance with Jacaerys all night. Aegon was a little tipsy but pleased to have his brother by his side again. Daeron was relatively quiet but invited a dozen young ladies to dance with him. Very daring, you thought.

You dared to dance too. Harwin fetched you and you leaned on him while he unhurriedly swayed you around. Aemond even stayed for a few more cups of wine, strangely enjoying himself for once.

He persuaded Aegon to stop pursuing a married lady of the court when his gaze fell upon you… You were dancing with his nephew. Well, your nephew as well. Lucerys asked for a dance and you agreed.

“The King wants for us to make peace,” you reminded him kindly.

“Yes. It is easier said than done… Is this whole situation salvageable to begin with? Even if I formally apologize to Aemond, he will never recognize he has to apologize as well,” explained Lucerys who danced slowly to accommodate you.

“Lucerys… A dragon cannot be claimed out of legacy. You know that. Rhaena knows. Baela knows. Jacaerys knows. Dragons are not slaves. They choose their rider. Vaghar chose him. He didn’t do anything wrong,” you stressed, hoping he would understand.

“Rhaena never had the time to try!”

“She had ample time, nephew,” rebuked Aemond, appearing behind you and grabbing your hand resting on Lucery’s shoulder. “I won’t apologize for claiming a riderless dragon. Now please, leave my wife alone before you decide to carve one of her eyes out as well.” 

“Uncle Aemond—” began Lucerys, but Aemond stole you away already.

“Please don’t provoke them, nothing good will come of it,” you cautioned. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m merely wishing for you to live without grudges eating away at you.”

“I know you feel the need to resolve this particular conflict because of your devotion to me, but do you hear yourself?” he spitted back startling you. “You are taking their side!”

“I’m on your side, Aemond. Always. You know that”, you huffed, pained he would ever think otherwise. “Now please excuse me, I’ll retire for the evening, I ache all over.”

AEMOND

Aemond stayed for one more cup of wine, silently seething in a corner. He knew you meant well, but years of resentment will do that to a man. When he cooled down an hour later, he went back to your chambers.

When he did not find you in your bed, he feared he angered you more than he thought. Then he heard noises coming from the adjacent water chamber. If she is still bathing at this hour, her back must be killing her, he thought.

Eye wide, he walked in on you shuddering, head thrown back against the edge of the tub, back arched with a hand between your legs, water threatening to spill everywhere.

It was a sight.

He instantly felt strained in his trousers, looking at you positively flushed and wanton.

Knowing he had nothing to do with your state of dishevelment, he made his displeasure known.

READER

“My love.”

“Seven hells!” you jumped. Water splashed everywhere on the floor and you stopped your movements at once.

"If I’m somehow lacking in this aspect of our marriage— which I know I’m not because you are obviously carrying my heir so soon after our union— I would very much like you to tell me," he teased, removing his tunic and the cotton shift he wore underneath.

"Pleasure eases the pain. You stayed late at dinner. A wife has to make do," you justified, making it sound like a reproach, but with a faint smile on your lips.

"You vowed to the old gods and the new that you are mine. That includes your pleasure," he clarified, kneeling beside the bath and plunging a hand underwater. His hand skimmed your leg, going higher and higher until he reached your cunt and picked up where you left off.

"You mean to tell me—” you gasped mid-sentence when his fingers parted your lips and found your clit. “—that not once you have pleasured yourself with your hand since you claimed me?"

"I have not,” he said, his fingers moving in and out of you, his thumb expertly teasing you. His lips grazed your cheek, his hot breath fanning your face. Your lips parted and you fought to keep your eyes open. 

“...I’m impressed, actually,” you quipped, between pants. “From what I’ve read, men usually d…” you did not finish your sentence. Aemond even stopped his ministrations, leaving you free falling as you were so close to the edge.

“...What on earth have you been reading?” he pressed curiously, resuming his movements in an agonizingly slow pace that had you lose your mind.

“Nothing,” you replied a little too quickly, now panting desperately. He looked at you incredulously. “...Well I may have stumbled upon Maester Merandys’ book on pleasure and martial duty once…”

"Have you, now?” he queried, curling his finger so he rubbed that spot deeper inside you, harder and faster. “I have also read it, as a matter of fact.”

Of course he did. You knew it the moment you read the words on the page. You thanked the gods that Aemond was an exemplary scholar and husband. Every book he read he mastered the subject. So when a Maester wrote a whole chapter on how pleasuring women effectively lead to a happier marriage, he read avidly… and never left your bed without making absolutely sure you reached your peak three times. At the very least.

He bent down until his hair dipped in the water. He swallowed your cries as your release barreled through you with ferocity, hitting you like lightning yet lingering long after, enough to have you shamefully moaning. Your cries echoed on the stone walls. Water splashed on the floor as you writhed horribly, gripping his arm as he fucked you through it with his fingers still. 

Aemond was very thorough and it was a curse as well as a blessing.

After a moment, he delicately pulled his hand, caressed your belly and kissed your forehead. “Come.” He helped you stand, gripping you firmly as you got out of the tub, knowing he had your legs feel like jelly.

He dried your hair with a cloth, your curls already forming. When you reached the bed, he kissed you tenderly. “I apologize for earlier. I know you mean well,” he spoke in a mumble.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you answered while he walked you backwards until the back of your legs bumped on the bed.

“Do you want my fingers again?” he murmured, brushing your inner thigh with his hand. “My mouth, mayhaps?” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Or my cock?” He pressed his body to yours and you felt his manhood, hard and ready in the confines of his trousers.

You were on fire, your body humming with need.

“You know what I want,” you crooned, laying down on the edge of the bed, your legs parted and hanging down the side. As much as you loved the child in your womb, some positions became quite tedious as your belly grew. You wished you could feel all of him on top of you but that would be for another time.

He propped your hips up with a cushion and gave you exactly what you wanted. Your breasts bounced with each thrust and his gaze kept darting from them to your face. His hands held your thighs, your hips, your breasts, your belly, any part of your body he could reach. You stiffen, your toes curling,  your hands fisting the sheets and your head so far back he could only see the column of your neck. 

Aemond fucked like he fought. With fiery passion, taking no prisoners.

He had you come multiple times. Again.

Enough to scramble your brain. Again.

He almost made you forget you were cross with him. Almost.

Your head rested on his arm. He traced figures on your shoulder, the pads of his fingers always lingering on the small scars scattered here and there from years of sword training with him. Oh how you missed your morning routine.

He talked of his mother. He spoke of how she tried to reason with him over tea during the afternoon, saying that even she made peace with the King's decisions. The crowned Princes are Targaryens, their dragon eggs hatched, and this and that.

After a moment, he fell silent. You chose your words carefully.

“People wouldn’t say a word if your sister were a man. Her children have as much Targaryen blood as you, Aemond… I don’t think this is about the line of succession… You are still angry about your eye. Punishing your father or Lucerys will never bring it back… it only brings you anger and frustrations. I love you, but I beseech you… Stop fighting, my love.” 

“Seeing you defend them so vehemently makes me want to burn this castle. You are supposed to be on my side. You are my wife,” he protested again, stopping his caresses. You felt his temper rising, but could not bring yourself to calm him down as you usually did.

“I am your wife. I am on your side. But there cannot be sides for this. Your father wants the family to put their differences aside. You are my husband, but he is my King. I have to do as he commands,” you explained. “Do you see the position you put me in?”

He sighed, rubbing his scarred cheek with desperate hands. “Your King was more of a father to them than he ever was to me. They get away with everything. And now? They have the crown! The Throne, Dragonstone, Driftmark… They are glorified, praised even, everything is handed to them on a silver platter while I have nothing.”

It felt like plunging in an icy lake.

Your breath shallowed as his words sinked in. For a moment a vice squeezed your heart in your chest. You felt the ache all the way to your belly, as if the child felt it too.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Tears pricked your eyes, your stomach turned and you tasted acid in your mouth. You tried to keep your calm but your nerves got the better of you. 

“You have the Riverlands,” you retorted in a surprisingly calm voice as resentment simmered in your veins. “…You have Harrenhal… a court that respects you, vast green lands to roam as you please… You have an army and knights who look up to you… You have a dragon, ‘the largest in the world’ as you remind us all so often…” Your voice started shaking and his expression changed. Color drained from his face as he realized what you meant. “You have me,” you bemoaned, a sob catching in your throat. “So what you are saying is that… all this means nothing to you?”

Choking back tears, you stood up and went to sit in front of your looking glass.

“That is not what I meant—”

 “I would like to sleep alone tonight,” you said in a cold voice. You avoided his stare, brushing carelessly the ends of your tangled curly hair. He stood behind you for a few seconds. You waited for his excuses. You were expecting explanations, reassurance, something, anything.

Nothing could have prepared you for the pain you felt when he kept silent and left. Your heart broke in a million pieces as the wooden door closed behind him with a bang.

For the first time since your adventures in the Stormlands, Aemond did not share your bed.

10 hours before

READER

Your maid woke you up early. You were exhausted and your heart ached as much as your back. You spent the night tossing and turning, no longer used to sleeping alone. You did not have time to bathe either for the whole family was called to the throne room. Now you were cranky, stressed and frustrated as well. 

“An urgent meeting, my lady,” clarified Maeva, emerging from your dressing room holding your favorite blue silk gown with elaborate silver embroideries on the skirt and clasps shaped like flowers. Her eyes darted around the room, surprised to find you alone. You sighed. 

Not long after, you stood beside Helaena as the lords and ladies of the court gathered around the throne. You felt Aemond approaching, his amber and sandalwood scent always giving him away. He was by your side but refrained from holding your hand as he usually did. You were no longer cross, but appreciated he respected your boundaries after the words you spoke.

“We received a raven from Storm’s End,” announced the King. “Lord Boros of House Baratheon heard of Jacaerys and Helaena’s betrothal and feels it is a betrayal, citing past unfruitful negotiations with him. It was once understood that our houses were to join with Prince Aemond marrying one of his daughters.” The whole family turned around to look at your Prince. You grabbed his hand instantly, knowing he hated when that many people stared. “Furthermore, Lord Boros now has an alliance with the Reach since his daughter Maris married Luthor Tyrell of Highgarden.” At the mention of your former betrothed, Aemond laced his fingers to yours, soothingly stroking your skin with his thumb. 

“There is more,” declared your father the Hand, “Lord Boros claims he could stop merchant boats from sailing to King’s Landing if the crown does not offer him some sort of compensation. He seems to believe he could convince the Reach to stop supplying King’s Landing with their grain, meat and fresh food as well.”

“This is preposterous,” thundered Lord Corlys. A brouhaha erupted over your father’s word. People afraid of a siege, knights speaking of doubling the guards at every gates and Prince Daemon snarling he could take down the lord before dinner if he left now with Caraxes and a few gold cloaks.

“Your grace, I propose we send a son from each house to speak to Lord Boros at once. We need to present a united front,” your father suggested wisely.

“I’ll go,” declared Jacaerys in a solemn tone.

“You can’t,” replied Princess Rhaenyra. “You are heir to the Iron Throne after me. We can’t risk it.”

“Prince Lucerys will go,” suggested Prince Daemon. “He is a crowned Prince too, and heir to the Driftwood throne. We need to remind Lord Boros that if he ever plans to rise against the King, he is also rising against Old Town, Harrenhal, Dragonstone, Driftmark and the North as well.” 

They all turned to Aegon who stumbled upon his own feet, eyes wide. He was apparently fetched from an obscure establishment on the street of silk at dawn.

“I drank too much, I can’t go. I’ll fall off Sunfyre.”

“I’ll go,” Aemond volunteered. He looked passive, but you had a bad feeling. He avoided your intense stare as the brouhaha resumed. He kissed your hand and went to his brother before you could say a single word.

AEMOND

Aegon looked at Aemond, both sporting a grave face. “I believe it’s time…” Aemond uttered, resolute but somehow still wishing for his older brother’s approval. “I might…”

“Yes,” Aegon acquiesced, sobering up almost instantly. “Do it. Don’t hesitate.”

Aemond nodded then went back to you. He spent the previous night wallowing in despair, alone, in his old chambers. His father’s carelessness and his nephew's arrogance clouded his judgment. That and the damn eyepatch had him in a tizzy. He used words that were too strong, he expressed himself badly and he hurt you. Again. Sometimes, he wondered if he was better off when he kept silent more.

He reached for your hand once more and apologized sincerely.

“I did not mean you were nothing,” he explained. “You are, in fact, everything.”

Your traits soften as he spoke. A colossal weight lifted from his shoulder when you forgave him and said that you knew he did not mean it. You apologized too and blamed the little dragon growing in you for giving you the temper of one. Even now, your fingers tightened on your belly while the child kept kicking you, testing your limits. 

READER

You lined up on the beach, bidding the Princes a safe journey. They could very well prevent a war today. You tried to smile as you gave your husband a few words of encouragement and requested he be careful since the weather is always unpredictable in the Stormlands.

“Don’t I know it,” he answered, a hand on your cheek. He kissed you passionately and you fought to keep a straight face.

“Just… please, don’t do anything rash,” you implored.

They took flight together and you prayed for an uneventful encounter with Lord Boros. When they were far enough, you finally let your mask fall and clanged to your maid as if she was a crutch.

“Maeva…would you escort me to my room and fetch the maester?” you groaned, the pains getting stronger.

It was two moons too early, but your child was definitely coming.

As you got away, you heard the commotion behind you. You first heard a loud thud. Then Queen Alicent screamed for help. Prince Daemon shoved guards aside to get through. Princess Rhaenyra followed closely behind. You heard the distinct clanking of the gold armor of every guard as they rushed to their King…

6 hours before

AEMOND

Did the weather ever relent in the Stormlands, Aemond wondered as he once again flew in atrocious conditions, rain battering at his face. After a few hours of flight, he found himself in Lord Boros’s gloomy throne room with Lucerys at his side. He put his personal feelings aside as they both tried to reason with the stubborn Lord. 

“You were supposed to marry my Ellyn,” Lord Boros barked at Aemond, pointing at one of his frightened daughters standing beside him. He sat on his throne like he was a King.

Ludicrous.

“I simply found alliances elsewhere,” added Boros.

“Threatening the crown with rebellion is not wise, my lord,” threatened Lucerys.

Aemond looked at his nephew, unreservedly horrified. Threats? Seriously? Menacing Lord Boros was not very wise as well. What was he thinking? Had he not studied basic conversational skills?

Pathetic.

“We solely ask for a temporary truce between…”

And there was the heir to Driftmark. Threatening Boros, then almost begging him to stop his impending siege on King’s Landing.

Ridiculous. 

Aemond was the eloquent one. It was he who studied philosophy, history, warfare and politics. He was Lord of Harrenhal and he was good at it.

“So what do you have to offer? You will marry one of my daughters, boy?” asked Boros, laughing outrageously. “You are so young, you probably still suck at your mother’s tit—”

“If I may, my Lord,” interjected Aemond. Lord Boros' eyes went from Lucerys to Aemond, disdain clear on his face. Even if Aemond did not bear any sentiment toward his sister Rhaenyra, he would not have a lesser lord speak of a Targaryen in that manner. Not to mention that Lucerys’s ineptitude was about to start a damn war. “My brother Aegon, the King’s first born son is looking for a bride. If you were to agree to this union with one of your daughters, they would be heir to the Hightower family seat in Oldtown. They would have vast fertile lands, an army, a fleet, a dragon and dragon eggs for all children that the union may produce. They would also have the King’s ear.”

Lord Boros seemed reluctant, but keened at the mention of dragon eggs and proximity to the King. Aemond spoke and Lord Boros listened. Lucerys stayed silent for the rest of the negotiations. He even looked at Aemond with… was it admiration? Aemond was not sure.

5 hours before

AEMOND

They both exited the castle in silence. Aemond, however, was burning inside. He was outraged that Lucerys almost threw them into a war for his lack of political skills. He suddenly imagined you giving birth while fire rained on the castle during a siege and fury coursed through his veins. Lucerys was the future heir of Driftmark and could not simply hold a conversation with a lord.

Disgraceful. 

“All hail the lord of Driftmark. Trying to have us killed when we were supposed to be negotiating for peace,” drawled Aemond loudly as they reached Vaghar and Arrax on the other side of the castle.

“I’m not as experienced as you, uncle. I feel no shame in admitting it,” answered his nephew who adjusted his hood in the pouring rain. 

“You almost started a war, you inarticulate idiot!” Aemond shouted, fiddling with the pommel of his sword. “I should have known, you are usually the one stupidly starting conflicts.” The eyepatch dug in the ridges of his scar and it put him even more on edge.

“I’m not fighting with you, uncle,” argued Lucerys. “I promised my mother I wouldn’t do anything foolish.” 

“You already took my eye. I would call that foolish enough,” scowled Aemond, giving into his anger. 

Lucerys turned to go to Arrax but stopped when he heard a loud clang of metal on the rocks behind him. Aemond had thrown a knife at his feet. 

“One on one,” Aemond dared him, taking out another knife. “Much more even than four against one, don’t you agree?”

“I’m not fighting with you,” repeated Lucerys, suddenly frightened. He climbed on his dragon and flew away in the blink of an eye.

Aemond scrambled for his knife and mounted Vaghar as fast as he could. “Jikagon tolī zirȳla”. Chase him.

He flew high, knowing Lucerys was close beneath. He hid in the dark clouds and got closer, rain soaking him to the bones. Out of thin air, Vaghar soared and almost devoured Arrax, sending both the small dragon and its rider in a panic. The little dragon plunged down with its rider and flew through cliffs and ravines bordering the coast of the Stormlands in order to hide from the monstrous beast that was Vaghar.

Aemond had to admit it… It felt good. He laughed almost maniacally, closing his eye and letting the rain fall on his face as Vaghar observed the coast. “Jemēla gēlȳni enkā, Taobus!” You owe a dept, boy! 

He could barely see anything in the downpour. He surveyed the beach but there was no sign of them whatsoever. Suddenly, Arrax came from above and spewed fire on Vaghar, missing Aemond by a thread.

“Daor, Arrax! Yne dohaerās!” No, Arrax! Serve me!

But it was too late. Defending her rider, Vaghar roared loud enough to crumble the nearby cliffs and started chasing the smaller dragon. She did not listen to Aemond either when he panicked, pulled on the reins and shouted at her to stop the chase at once.

Vaghar speeded and snapped her mighty jaw so close to Arrax’s tail that the little dragon jerked and threw his rider off his saddle. 

Arrax flew away while Lucerys fell in the raging sea.

Eye wide, Aemond frantically scoured the waters of Shipbreaker Bay. The rain was heavy and made it almost impossible to locate the Prince… if there was something left to locate. Now that Vaghar had calmed down, he circled the area. Utterly mortified.

He realized he was presented with a choice. Revenge was technically in his grasp. Help the crowned Prince or… let him drown. He could even blame it on the weather.

Years of anger coursing through his veins.

Years of living in the shadow of his older sister with no justice served for his eye.

Years of enduring the snarks, the laughter and the wary looks.

Years of pining for the woman he loved when he could have had her all along.

Years of telling everyone his scar just felt numb when sometimes he woke in the middle of the night with lancing pain so strong it made him want to die…

The pain made him say things… do things… It was better now that he rarely wore his eyepatch. They all thought he naturally had a nasty temper, and he played along. It was better than having everyone’s pity on top of their disgust when they looked at him.

Then he thought of you and how terribly empathetic you were. If you knew about the pain… it would kill you. He decided a long time ago that he would spare you that.

Then Aemond spotted Lucerys.

His nephew was alive, not far from the coast, desperately trying to swim through the crashing waves.

It felt like an eternity when in truth, Aemond’s pondering lasted a few seconds. Deep down, Aemond was not the scary monster the court made him out to be. He was not a cold blooded killer. He remembered who he was with you. He remembered his life at Harrenhal. He remembered how happy he was these past moons… He was a scholar. He was a soldier. He was a lover. He was a lemon cake stealer, even. He was going to be a father…

But he was not a murderer.

If the Prince died in these waters today, there would be war. No doubt that Rhaenyra and Daemon would swoop down Harrenhal and melt what was left of the castle with their dragons.

Aemond ordered Vaghar to land in the water. He instructed her to extend a wing so Lucerys could cling onto it until they reached the coast.

The crowned Prince kneeled in the sand, retching and catching his breath. Aemond climbed down the net on the side of Vaghar and slowly walked to him. Lucerys looked up, unsure of his faith but he spoke anyway.

“You had no… no reason to save me… but I’m grateful that you did,” he managed to say.

“Hm…” simply replied Aemond, looking at the horizon. The sun started to pierce the heavy clouds. Lucerys sought to stand but was exhausted. Aemond observed him as he abdicated and sat in the sand.

“…I’m sorry for your eye, Aemond,” Lucerys admitted sincerely. “If I could give it back to you, I would. With time, it became more and more difficult to mend our differences. I cannot imagine what life has been like for you, but know that I think about what I did everyday and how I caused our two families to split. You are right, we are strong boys. But we are Rhaenyra Targaryen’s boys as well. We are your wife’s nephews too.”

Aemond remembered your words. How women were held by questionable standards when men could sire tens of bastards without anyone batting an eyelash. How the knights always underestimated you when you came to train with the sword. How Luthor Tyrell all but treated you like a prized broodmare  when you were destined to be one of the grandest ladies of the realm.

Aemond did not even hate his sister Rhaenyra… but he hated how his father only seemed to care about her and excused all her mistakes. The crowned Princes were indeed Targaryens. That, Aemond accepted by now. But no justice after he was unfairly attacked? No consequences whatsoever for his assailant? That was what hurt Aemond the most.

“I defended my brother, that I will never grieve over. I thought you would kill him. But we were children. Stupid children, might I even say. I wished we could leave the past in the past and work on the future instead. You at Harrenhal. Aeg—”

“Y/n at Harrenhal,” immediately corrected Aemond. “I’m her lord consort.”

“You rule as equal, though,” Lucerys pointed out. “Y/n and you at Harrenhal. Aegon at Oldtown. Me at Driftmark. Joffrey at Dragonstone. Daeron at Winterfell, and Jacaerys and Halaena in King’s Landing. …Think of what we could achieve together.”

True to himself, Aemond was silent.

“Do you forgive me?” Lucerys ultimately asked.

The raging storm started to clear and the noise from the rain eased. Arrax appeared and landed at the other end of the beach, as far as possible from Vaghar. Aemond exhaled… and extended his hand to help Lucerys get up on his feet.

“…I’m tired of being angry all the time,” Aemond answered, taking off his damn itching eyepatch and throwing it as far as he could in Shipbreaker Bay.

Surprisingly, Lucerys looked at his eye instead of the sapphire when he spoke once more.

“…but do you forgive me?”

“I’m not ready to say the words, but I’m done fighting,” Aemond sighed.

2 hours before

AEMOND

Aemond got back to King’s landing first, Lucerys not far behind. Arrax was a small dragon, and not as fast and powerful as Vaghar afterall. His own guards from Harrenhal waited for him at the gates. One of the knights he trained with daily stepped forward.

“My lord, please go to Lady Strong at once. The child is coming.”

Aemond cursed every single step and hallway that separated him from you. Your chambers were so far from the mud gate, it gave him enough time to start panicking again.

It was too soon.

You had two moons left before the child was supposed to be born. He had read everything he could get his hands on about birth. You thought he was overly fussing with you, but he read absolute horrors in those books. Women disregarded and butchered to save the child’s life; labor lasting days with them wailing in agony; mothers appearing absolutely fine then having convulsions and excruciating headaches before they stopped breathing altogether. You even confided in him how your own mother died giving birth alone.

He tried to calm himself down but the day took its toll on him. He nearly killed Lucerys in his wrath. He accused his nephew of almost starting a war then went on to do the same by chasing him with Vaghar. He went close to proving to the realm that he was indeed the monster they thought he was. And now you were giving birth alone while he acted like a complete fool.

Never again.

Aemond nearly broke down the door to your chambers. When his eye fell on your bed, what he found truly horrified him. Blood. Blood everywhere. On your bed. On your nightgown. On your legs. Smothered on your arms as well. Your arms that… held onto a small bundle of cloth, rocking slightly from side to side as you hummed tenderly.

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” he bellowed, eye shining with unshed tears.

“Shhh Aemond, seven hells. She just fell asleep!” you chided him in a low voice.

Aemond let out a gasp of relief. He looked down for a moment, fighting the tears that threatened to fall on his cheeks, then rushed to your side. Usually, when you swore like a bravosi sealord, you were all right. “She?”

“She, yes. She is small but healthy,” you murmured, looking at him with loving eyes.

“How long ago?” he asked, as if it mattered now that everything was over.

“Two hours maybe. It went very fast. She just stopped screaming,” you turned to the little bundle of joy in your arms. “You have your father’s temper, don’t you?”

Aemond winced at your playful jab at his temper. He looked at his beautiful baby girl, chasing away any thoughts of what happened in the Stormlands.

Lucerys was unarmed. No war was on the way. You were alive and so was his little girl.

He could not possibly be raising her like this, with fire burning inside. He wanted to teach her High Valyrian. He wanted to fly around the realm on dragonback with her. He wanted her to learn swordplay and combat strategy. 

He stripped from his knife, sword and boots. He climbed in the bed beside you and sat against the headboard, knees propped up to cradle the baby on his legs. He took one small hand in his, looking for missing fingernails or something. But the child was perfect. He brushed the hair on her head. A head of silvery white locks. “She has your curls.”

You chuckled. “Yours as well,” you quipped, your hand pulling on a strand of his hair wavy from the rain. You loved his wavy hair.

He turned his face to you. “Were you alone? Where is everyone?”

“I don’t know. I had the maids and Maester Orwyle with me. I was okay,” you swore.

Where was Maester Mellos? Orwyle was only an Archmaester. He was only in the capital if something happened to old Mellos. Where was your father? You brother? Hells, even Helaena would have come to your bedside too.

“Do you need anything?” he wondered. “I’m fairly good at nicking lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

“I want to bathe and sleep, to be honest,” you confessed with half-lidded eyes. Your maid Maeva approached you, but Aemond insisted on doing it himself. She changed the sheets instead. 

Aemond handed your sleeping daughter to your wet nurse and walked you to the bath. He washed your hair, massaged your back and kissed the top of your head. You enjoyed his loving touch as he helped you to your nightgown, brushed your hair and tucked you into bed. He did it all in silence, but he knew you felt the love and devotion emanating from his every pore.

“How did it go with Lord Boros?” you promptly asked, reminding him of his eventful day.

“It went… Well there will be no war,” he confirmed, but he saw the curiosity in your eyes. “I’ll tell you in the morning. Now rest. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Ēdrugon isse īlva bed bisa bantis,” you said sleepily, grabbing his hand. Sleep in our bed tonight.

“Yes, my love. Emā ñuha bantior, daor nārhēdegon.” You claimed my nights, remember.

1 hour before

AEMOND

Now that he knew you were well, Aemond had only one thing in mind: getting rid of his wet clothes. He had to be presentable before he spoke to his father, the hand and Aegon at the very least… and to brave whatever may come to him when Lucerys would tell Rhaenyra and Daemon what transpired in the Stormlands. He should be back by now.

Although, when he got out of your chambers, Aegon waited for him in the corridor. Strangely sober. Before Aemond could ask what he was doing there, Aegon waved a hand, an invitation to follow him.

“Come. It’s father.”

When they entered the royal chambers, Aemond found his mother praying in front of the giant seven pointed star she had installed near the bed. As soon as she saw him, she hugged him with a strength he did not know her. “It’s his heart,” she cried. “It beats too faintly. It’s been like that for a week now, we had to move fast to discuss the line of succession and… oh please go to him, Aemond. Speak with him before it’s too late, I beg you.”

Unsure, Aemond joined the others. His siblings were all sitting around the bed, including Rhaenyra. Daemon was there, Aemond’s nephews and nieces as well. Lucerys stood beside his brothers, completely drenched too. Aemond stared at him briefly, assessing the situation. Lucerys shook his head. 

They don’t know yet.

When he met Aegon’s stare again, Aemond nodded slightly. Aegon nodded back, confirming he understood his fate was sealed in Storm’s End.

Aemond came to his father’s side, still shook at the news that he was dying and kept it a secret. He was conscious, but his ragged breath was alarming.

“Aemond, my son,” he wheezed. Aemond spoke as an emissary would.

“Father, we negotiated an allianc—” 

“He,” corrected Lucerys. “He negotiated an alliance.”

Aemond looked at him attentively. Lucerys nodded, urging him to continue. “…I negotiated an alliance with Lord Boros to make the kingdom stronger. Aegon’s future is secured in Old Town with Ellyn Baratheon at his side. There will be no war, no siege on King’s Landing and no blockade in the Narrow Sea.”

There was a collective sigh of relief. “That is… w…wonderful news, Aemond,” the King whispered. “I knew you were… the best man for the job. You’ve become… a … fine young lord.”

Aemond was silent, eye wide, unsure if he heard correctly.

“Out of all my children… you were the diligent one. Always studying… always learning… eager to prove himself a true Targaryen… And now, you saved us from a war… I’m so proud of what you have become.”

Aemond looked at his mother in disbelief, shocked at the words he heard. She had a faint smile.

“You were right… I have been a poor father to you… I only wished I had more time to… make things right… To apologize properly… meanwhile, I… I have something for you.”

The King gestured to his bedside table. Aemond gazed around but did not see what he could possibly be looking for. Daemon approached and grabbed the long sword leaning on the wall.

He unsheathed it and the Valyrian steel glimmered in the faint light from the sunset. Aemond took the precious sword in his hand and admired the handiwork.

“I give you Blackfyre, Aemond… a fine sword for a fine lord and warrior… you are definitely worthy of this sword… know that I never wanted you… to feel like you did not matter…”

Aemond’s vision started to blur. He blinked quickly, trying to gain some composure while listening to his father’s harsh breath. 

He was a father too now. He read countless books on the subject. He was bound to make mistakes as well. He will probably lose his mind when little lords will try to woo his daughter with lemon cakes, mainly because that was what he did. He knew he could not go forth if he still clung on grudges like these. Then and there, Aemond made the silent promise of being everything his little girl needed him to be.

And it began with forgiveness.

“I accept your apology, father,” Aemond breathed faintly. He heard his mother sob somewhere behind him. “I forgive you… and you are the first to know that my wife just gave birth to a healthy baby girl.”

“Oh… a granddaughter… I am… delighted…”

And with these few words, a faint smile curling his lips, the King drew his last breath. On the third day of the third moon of 129 AC, King Viserys, first of his name, died in his bed. His heart stopped beating, leaving his entire family, and the realm, in grief.

And here he was...

Standing between his mother and sister beside an empty Throne as Grand Maester Mellos announced the death of his father to the people of the court. For a second, he envied you. He instructed the guards to let you sleep. You needed rest, not to climb up so many stairs.

Lucerys joined his brothers amidst the announcement. He hurried to his chambers to change from his wet clothes. Wise.

Aemond’s mother went to the other side of the throne, to Rhaenyra. They both embraced and cried in each other’s arms. Jacaerys also changed sides to go to Helaena. He offered her his hand. She took it and let him kiss her cheek. 

Suddenly, both sides of the family blurred into one. Aegon and Jacaerys shook hands. Daeron went to Joffrey and Baela. Rhaena came to Aemond, bowed her head and extended her hand to him. He took it and they silently ended their quarrel.

In a way, it was sad that it took the death of the King to unite both sides of the family at last. They all comforted each other until Daemon approached Rhaenyra, holding in his hand his brother’s golden crown.

Aemond’s sister went to sit on the Iron Throne and Daemon crowned her Queen Rhaenyra, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Daemon kneeled first, and the people of the court bent the knee subsequently, pledging fealty and allegiance to their new Queen.

While the people celebrated, the tall doors opened once more.

READER

Holding your baby girl in your arms, your brother helped you walk up to the royal family.

“Aemond,” you breathed as you reached him and hugged him with one arm, your daughter peacefully cooing in the other. “Seriously, my love? ‘Let her sleep’?” 

“You need rest,” he explained, eye glistening.

“Your father and my King died. I’ll rest after. I’m a strong lady, you know that.”

“All too well, I’m afraid,” he abdicated, stroking the white locks on his little girl’s head.

“Well, we are strong as well, but not as strong as you y/n. You should indeed rest,” jested Jacaerys, impressed that you would climb all those steps to join them.

Aemond’s mother found the energy to come and congratulate you. She wanted to hold her first grandchild and you let her. She went to Prin— Queen Rhaenyra and they both admired the deep purple of her eyes. With your arms free, you hugged Aemond properly. He inhaled the scent of your hair and tightened his embrace around your tender waist. You were uncomfortable, but holding him was more important to you. Especially when you felt his tears dampening your silk shift.

He only let you go only when Lucerys approached to have a word. For a minute, you thought you were dreaming when Aemond thanked him for not telling Rhaenyra and Daemon about the chase in the stormlands. 

A chase? What chase?

“I told them you went ahead while Arrax struggled in the weather. They are angry because you came back without me and they imagined all sorts of things… I told them that you would never harm me.”

“When it came to it… I couldn’t.”

What?!, you thought, eyebrows raised to your hairline.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I apologize. For everything,” reiterated the crowned Prince.

“...I accept your apology, nephew,” absolved Aemond.

You had never been so confused in your entire life.

AEMOND

Aemond was unsure how he felt about losing his father, especially after the kind words he spoke in the end, but he knew that the time came to leave the past behind. He needed to make the future a better place. For everyone.

Lucerys bowed his head and took his leave.

“What happened in the Stormlands?” you inquired, worrying.

“I’ll tell you later, let’s get back to your chambers,” replied Aemond, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“No, I want to know now,” you insisted.

“There was a storm, you see. We had to take shelter at an inn, with only one bed—”

“Aemond!” you chastised, refusing to move until he answered.

“What a temper, you have, my lady Strong. I’m afraid I’m a terrible influence,” he teased, kissing you before you could curse at him.

When you went to fetch your daughter, the rest of the royal family offered their congratulations. You went to bend the knee to your Queen but she immediately grabbed you, saying you did not need to in your condition. You always liked Queen Rhaenyra, even if you never spent much time with her when you were younger.

As you looked at the entire family, you smiled knowing the bridges had been mended.

12 moons later

READER

You stood on top of the castle walls, shivering… but not because of the cold. In fact, a warm wind blew in your curly hair as you glanced down at the people of the court walking in the inner yard and entering Harrenhal. While they could only see their Lady surveying the castle grounds from that angle, no one could in fact imagine that your Prince was on his knees, wedged between the wall and you.

“Aemond, please,” you pleaded, closing your eyes as if it would give you strength, one of your hands messing his not-so-perfect hair now.

“Hm?” you heard, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine, making you gasp out loud.

Of course he chose this moment to keep silent. You could only pray you were perched high enough so the lord and ladies could not see the faces you made as Aemond thoroughly ravaged you with his tongue and fingers.

“We have to join the p—people,” you shuddered, the pace of his fingers quickening. “...they are wa— wa—waitin—oh gods!” you stammered, out of breath as immense pleasure hit you all at once. You collapsed on the low wall, muffling your cries in the sleeve of your dress as your orgasm ripped through you, destroying in its wake every last ounce of control you futilely clinged onto.

Aemond could not care less that you crushed him against the stone wall. He held you tight and kept stroking you with his fingers at an excruciating pace, making sure you lost every bit of your sanity as well. Your whole body shivering, your first orgasm quickly blended into a second one.

A bigger one, looming in like a tidal wave. One you could feel coming, long and slow, thoroughly engulfing you until you had no choice but to weigh it out. It crashed into you hard. It was devastating. Your jaw hanging, you could no longer produce any sound. You felt it in your whole body this time… and it kept going, and going, and going. It was like you were stuck in an unending cycle of pleasure.

If it were not for his strong embrace, you would have collapsed on the rampart. You felt light headed and started to lose consciousness. Only then did Aemond slowed down his assault on your cunt and peppered your thighs with kisses and small bites. 

“If you ever do this again… no, when, when you do this again… please do it in our bed. I can’t be fainting in front of our people,” you whimpered.

He did not answer but he pulled on your hands to have you sit on his lap instead, your dress pooling around the both of you.

“Please, my love, we have to go inside, they will look for us!”

“One more. Give me one more,” he insisted, sitting against the wall, rummaging through the many layers of your skirt to free his manhood from his trousers. “I want to see your face.” He notched his cock between your legs and pushed your thighs down until you swallowed him whole, hard and fast.

He groaned as you cried out. He wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you arched and flush against his chest. He pumped up into your core and you luxuriated in every second of it.

“Aemond!”, a strangled cry.

“Take it,” he growled.

Fully impaled on him, you felt your orgasm build deep and fast. Your fingers dug into his shoulders and your head tipped back on a low moan. His lips brushed your shoulder and kissed the little scars you had here and there. In return, you kissed his scarred cheek like your life depended on it. Your arms went around his shoulder as you sinked into each other, both chasing your releases. 

You tightened around his cock and he whimpered.

“Come.” His thrusting got faster and you wailed in his ear.

“Come, my love.” Your vision blurred, tears springing to your eyes.

“Come now.” He forced you to look at him as you screamed.

The coil in your stomach snapped abruptly, your orgasm having you practically convulsing. You collapsed against him. He let go of your head and you shoved your face in his long silvery hair, sobbing against his shoulder. He slammed up with his hips, fucking you mercilessly through it, your face twisted in pleasurable agony gave him the final push he needed. He buried himself to the hilt and cried out his own release. His warm cum filled you, dripping out and down on his thighs.

Your knees were ruined. You felt the pain more and more as pleasure left your trembling core. You whined in his arms when he slipped out of you. He cupped your face with both hands to keep you on his lap a little longer. “Look at me again.”

So you did. The midday sun hit his sapphire and hundreds of little blue lights danced around you. He had so much love in his eye it made you smile.

He pressed his lips to yours one last time. Afterall, Aemond and you had to get back inside the castle. The festivities would begin shortly. 

Aemond helped you stand up and you walked to the great hall. You avoided certain hallways for you feared he would drag you into one of his favorite dark alcoves to make an even bigger mess out of you. After nearly two years of marriage, he was as insatiable as the first day he had you.

A few hours had gone by since you summoned the lords and ladies to the great hall. Your brother and other knights arrived, followed by the entirety of the royal family. Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon lead the way. 

Aemond joined his brothers and sister. Aegon smirked at the state of Aemond’s hair but did not comment on it. The Queen Mother, however, came quickly to brush it with her fingers, scolding her son for his impropriety.

Now that was your fault. You have been a terrible influence for years now.

Dangling somewhere between pride and elation, Aemond held his head high. Without his eyepatch on, he did not hear laughs and jeers for once. Even if he did, nothing could put a damper on this day. 

In the end, he did confide in you that his scar hurt sometimes. You were pained at the revelation but urged him to try the same oils and flowers you used when you carried your first child.

So he did. And it worked.

He was a changed man. What you thought was a bad temper was him being on edge every time his scar hurt. Now that he discarded his eyepatch once and for all, he found himself nearly free of pain and able to enjoy life as he should.

You hooked an arm through his and sneaked a peek at the rest of the royal family, gathered on the other side of the room. Queen Rhaenyra stood beside Prince Daemon who held in his arms their latest daughter Princess Visenya. The Dowager Queen Alicent had your daughter perched on her hip, wishing to introduce her to her baby cousin. 

To your surprise, Prince Aegon and Ellyn Baratheon fell in love. Just like Aemond, Aegon’s life changed for the better when he left King’s Landing to live in Old Town with his wife. He sobered up and Ellyn gave birth not three moons before to twin sons. 

Prince Jacaerys laughed with his wife, Princess Helaena, who was expecting their first child in less than a moon. His younger brothers, Prince Lucerys and Joffrey, stood beside their betrothed Lady Baela and Rhaena. They will marry in the upcoming year. While some quietly exchanged some words with each other, they all had something in common…

…they had their eyes set on Aemond and you.

Though, it was no surprise why. Lords and ladies as well as knights flooded the throne room. You invited them all to celebrate your daughter’s first name day. But that was not all…

Maester Sylvan walked to the front of the dais and cleared his throat. “Even though it is Lady Alaena Targaryen’s first name day, we are gathered here today in great delight, for any day the Mother is blessing us with a life is a joyful day.” Aemond’s mother rushed to your side, firmly holding your laughing daughter in her arms. She stared at you both with anticipation. “Lady Y/n Strong and Prince Aemond are expecting their second child and heir in six moons from this day!” the Maester announced and the hall erupted in cheers.

Still, you were half listening. Maester Sylvan’s words almost felt like distant noises. You had one of those moments where you realized how far you had come and how wonderfully happy you were.

After the birth of your daughter— and as a sign of good will— Princess Rhaenyra gifted you a dragon egg. It hatched three months after it was placed in the cradle. Since then, Vaghar presented you with a fresh clutch of eggs too. Enough for your second child and Aegon’s twins.

Aemond had another special saddle made for Vaghar so he could securely take you and your daughter on adventures in the neighboring lands. He took Lady Rhaena for a flight too, wishing for her to fly one last time on her late mother’s dragon. 

He trained with his nephews again when they visited Harrenhal or when they invited you to Dragonstone and Driftmark. They were eager to spend time with you as well.

The Dowager Queen Alicent stayed in King’s Landing and found comfort in scriptures, her children, grandchildren and her friendship with Queen Rhaenyra. 

Lastly, when Luthor Tyrell held a tournament in the honor of his firstborn son, Aemond insisted you go. This time, he took part in the tournament. You cheered when he won both the sword fight— cutting poor Luthor’s sword in half with Blackfyre— and the joust— knocking him off his horse, his armor getting caught in the horse’s reins, dragging his insufferable arse back to the stables where it belonged. That night, you made love to Aemond not once, not twice, but thrice, knowing you made the right choice when you fought for him.

Needless to say, when you approached this sad little dragon-less boy who read alone in the library 11 years before… you did not imagine he would be the one bringing you so much joy today. And knowing you were the one brightening his days always had you emotional. Because he was everything to you.

Your friend. Your Prince. Your husband. Your love.

To say that Aemond’s whole life changed in the span of a few moons was certainly an understatement. He now had everything he had ever wished for and more. 

At long last, Aemond Targaryen found peace. All thanks to you.

Thank you for reading!

I wanted to give Aemond a happy ending. I also realized I could in fact give a happy ending to everybody and a relatively nice death to Viserys. I don’t know about you, but I read the book and it felt really good to write this fix-it. Sorry if I toyed with your emotions throughout the story. I couldn't possibly unalive the reader during childbirth, come on. I promised you a HEA.

I was in a 12 year writing slump before I wrote Deserving, Indulging and Striving. I will write more about Aemond. Probably some smutty drabbles, imagines and one shots. This fictional man has me in a chokehold.

[hezikas]

You Are The Right One | Chapter 1

Dad!Aegon II Targaryen x Nanny!Reader (modern au)

Summary: Following a devastating event involving his ex-girlfriend, Aegon is now a full-time single father to his daughter. However, with a jam-packed schedule due to his ongoing tour, he's struggling to balance his parenting duties with his high-profile career as a musician. To ease the burden, Aegon heeds his sister Helaena's advice and hires a stay-in nanny. But what he doesn't realize is that this decision will have unexpected consequences that will turn his life on its head.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of any characters from House of the Dragon, as they are the intellectual property of George R.R. Martin. Furthermore, I must acknowledge that this story is heavily influenced by the book 'The Nanny' written by Lana Ferguson.

Just a heads up I did not proofread this and english is not my first language.

Taglist: @julieeba  @delilah1990 @fan-goddess @shit-posts420​ @watercolorskyy​ 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As you sit staring at your inbox, you hardly expect to hear back from A. Targaryen so soon after sending your email. And yet, her eagerness to meet you catches you off guard. The surprise only grows when she suggests the meeting take place at Red Keep, one of the most extravagant restaurants in all of King's Landing.

"Red Keep, huh," you murmured, a hint of disbelief creeping into your voice. "Is this how rich people hold interviews?"

You are aware that dining at Red Keep would be an extravagant expense, potentially amounting to half of your savings from your two months of hard work at the local pediatric clinic, a job that you held dear in your heart and still harbor resentment towards being fired from.

You push the thought aside and head to your small closet to pick out the most formal clothing you can find which is the black dress that you had worn to your college graduation. You hope that it will suit the occasion and not make you look out of place in such a lavish setting. Furthermore, since you are under the suspicion that the family you will be working for as a nanny is even more affluent than you initially believed. 

You recalled your experience of assisting children at the clinic, thinking that it had prepared you well for this new job. 

"This should be a piece of cake," you told yourself as you made your way to the Red Keep restaurant. 

However, deep down, you couldn't shake off the nervousness that came with starting a new job. You held on to the hope that this job would be as fulfilling as your previous one, and that the kid you would be taking care of would appreciate your efforts, just as the ones at the clinic did.

As you step inside the restaurant, you are greeted by a stunning hostess exuding an air of sophistication. She wears a perfectly tailored skirt and blouse that match the upscale decor of the place. Her sleek, polished appearance is completed by a pair of heels. The way she carries herself speaks volumes about the high standards of the establishment.

"Good evening, ma'am. Do you have a reservation?" she asked, pasting on a fake smile and emphasizing the word ‘reservation’ as if knowing you couldn't afford a single thing in the restaurant, not even their appetizers.

"Yes, under A. Targaryen," you replied confidently, determined to show her that you belonged in such a high-class establishment. The hostess's body suddenly changed after hearing the name you had mentioned. 

"Ah, right this way, Mr. Targaryen will be with you shortly" she said, leading you to a private table at the back of the restaurant. 

Mr. Targaryen? Did I hear her right? Maybe I misheard her. you thought to yourself.

As you marveled at the opulence of the restaurant's decor, a waiter approached you to inquire if you would like to begin with any appetizers. You decided to forego the appetizers and instead ordered a water, realizing that the unfriendly hostess was right about you not being able to afford the extravagant menu items. While waiting for your future boss, you occupied yourself by scrolling through your phone.

“Excuse me,” someone says.

The unexpected sound made you choke on your water, causing some to dribble down your chin. Embarrassed, you quickly wiped it away with a napkin. As you finished cleaning up, a face came into your view.

Motherf–

Your mind struggled to comprehend the sight before you. The man standing in front of you possessed a captivating appearance, with sharp, chiseled facial features and a prominent jawline. His eyes were a pale shade of purple, reminiscent of delicate lilacs in full bloom, and seemed to emit an otherworldly aura. His platinum blond hair was styled back, accentuating the angles of his face, and appeared to shimmer in the light, giving it an almost supernatural quality. He was a breathtakingly beautiful sight, resembling a creature from a dream.

In short, the man before you was none other than Aegon Targaryen, the world-renowned singer whose soulful voice had captivated millions.

"Excuse me, are you Y/N?" he asked, his voice like a melody that could soothe any troubled soul.

As your eyes remained transfixed on the ethereal man, his lips moved, and you suddenly snapped out of your reverie. Realizing that he had posed a question, you struggled to gather your composure before finally managing to respond, "Y-Yes, I am. Nice to meet you, Mr. Targaryen."

Aegon flashed you a charming smile that could easily disarm even the most composed individuals. "Please, call me Aegon. Mr. Targaryen makes me feel old," he remarked, his tone tinged with a touch of playfulness.

As he spoke, you couldn't help but question his age. He certainly appeared older than you, though not excessively so. There was an air of maturity about him, but he retained a youthful essence. Still, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from him, entranced by his presence.

"Right," you stammered. 

"I'm Y/N. Y/N L/N," you introduced yourself, trying to regain your composure in the midst of his charismatic presence. As you pushed away from the table, he extended his hand at the same moment you were about to do the same. The result? A clumsy collision of palms and fingers, turning the handshake into a tangled mess reminiscent of a chaotic game of Twister.

Both of you were taken aback by the unexpected jumble of hands. Your face flushed a deep shade of crimson, and Aegon let out a nervous chuckle, attempting to diffuse the awkwardness that hung in the air.

"I apologize for asking you to meet me here. With my busy schedule leading up to my tour, I've been trying my best to fit everything in. I thought it would be convenient to have our interview while I have a meeting later at 8:45 pm, so I hope we can wrap up quickly."

"It's not a problem. I initially thought it was customary to conduct such meetings over dinner, especially at a place like this, but I figured..." The realization dawns on you, and you can't help but feel a tinge of embarrassment as you cover your eyes, trying to hide your flushed face.

"Oh my God. This wasn't a dinner interview. You wanted to talk to me before your upcoming meeting."

"I should have... been clearer in my email."

"I can't believe it. I wore this silly dress, and..."

"It's actually a very nice dress," he interjects, a touch of amusement in his voice as he finds your little outburst endearing.

"I must seem completely ridiculous..."

"Really, you don't," he assures you.

"I can be so oblivious sometimes. I apologize."

He continues to look amused, finding your moment of self-doubt and realization rather cute.

"You're welcome to order something," he suggests. "If you feel like it. I don't mind." 

"Thank you, but I think I have to excuse myself now. Perhaps it's best if I just leave, don't you think? This situation is already spiraling into a disaster." 

"Wait, no," he interjects, reaching out his hand as you try to make your escape.

"Please don't do that." You halt in your tracks, uncertain if he still intends to proceed with the interview. Perhaps he's having second thoughts as well. You speculate.

"Are you still interested in interviewing me?"

"To be frank," he sighed, his voice laced with genuine surprise, "no other applicant even comes close to your credentials. CPR training, First Aid certification, and experience working at a prestigious pediatric clinic. The references I checked couldn't stop raving about you. It seemed they were truly saddened to see you go."

"Yes, it was disheartening when circumstances forced me to leave," you admitted, a tinge of nostalgia in your voice. "Funding issues plagued the clinic. I cherished every moment there."

"Well," he chuckled softly, "it appears their loss may be my gain. Your résumé astounded me when it landed in my inbox."

"But now that you've met me, I imagine you're starting to doubt its authenticity," you remarked, a trace of self-deprecation evident in your words.

Aegon's laughter escaped, a restrained mirth accompanied by a gentle downturn of his gaze, as if he didn't want to appear disrespectful. Given the awkwardness of this initial encounter, such caution was understandable.

"No," he reassured, his voice warm. "I have no doubts about its authenticity. Although I must admit, I am curious. With your remarkable background, why seek a nanny position?"

The air held a moment of anticipation as you contemplated his question, the unspoken desires and motivations that brought you to this point.

You released a heavy sigh, leaning in closer over the table, gathering the courage to share your truth. "Can I speak honestly with you?"

Aegon leaned forward, his eyes displaying genuine interest. "I would prefer nothing less," he replied, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

Taking a moment to compose your thoughts, you began, "I'm currently in my final year of a graduate program. As I mentioned in my email, I lost my job due to downsizing. Rent in this city has become exorbitant, and to be completely frank, I'm in need of financial stability. Moreover, the offer of free room and board is an opportunity I can't dismiss. It would alleviate a significant burden on top of everything else."

A furrow formed on his forehead, suggesting that a concern had surfaced, and you braced yourself for the rejection you feared was imminent. "Regarding that," he began, his tone serious, "I feel compelled to inform you that it's a live-in position, but I want to be entirely transparent. It's just me and my daughter. Rest assured, you would have your own room, practically an entire floor to yourself, complete privacy. However, I understand if this arrangement might make you uncomfortable."

In all your years of existence, it seemed rather extraordinary that your first encounter of living with a strikingly attractive man would unfold within the realm of a fully immersive fictional scenario. Though a part of you longed to inquire about the other parent in this situation, if only to quell your inner turmoil, your rational mind vehemently warned against such a misstep.

With practiced precision, you adorned your face with a professional smile, masking the whirlwind of thoughts swirling within. "I don't anticipate any issues on my end. However, in the spirit of complete transparency... I'm currently enrolled in a hybrid program at KL's."

Curiosity flickered in Aegon's eyes as he sought clarification. "What does that mean?"

A faint chuckle escaped your lips as you unraveled the intricacies of your schedule. "Essentially, it means that the majority of my coursework is conducted online, affording me the flexibility to manage it during the evenings after work. However, two weekends every month, I'm required to attend on-campus classes. And most of the jobs I've applied for have struggled to accommodate my schedule, rendering it somewhat of a deal breaker." A wistful smile accompanied your admission.

Aegon pondered your words, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze. "Well, it appears that I might be the sole individual who recognizes the true value of your impressive credentials."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Note: I apologize for the delay in releasing Chapter 1. Unfortunately, I unexpectedly fell ill with a viral infection shortly after posting the sneak peek. Despite that, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please understand that some parts may not be as well-written as I had initially intended, as I wrote them while I was still unwell. That’s all. Thank you for reading.

[happilyhertale]

Could you write something where the reader is Aemond’s wife (she can be a sister wife, Nyra’s daughter, or have an unspecified mother, whatever you’d like) and she is nearing the end of her first pregnancy. Everyone: the maids, maesters, her mom, Healana are all telling her birth stories and they are telling basically 24/7 and eventually she can’t take it anymore and gets so scared (as many stories of horrific). She never was scared before, nervous sure, but this fear of giving birth is basically drowning her. Aemond knows something is wrong with his wife, cause she is acting strange and isn’t sleeping, but he can’t pin point what is plaguing her. Until one family dinner, someone mentions a relative who died during birth in a conversation and the reader (rather harshly) excuses her self from the table. Aemond follows suit and she breaks down in his arms and he comforts her.

Bonus points if you add the birth, you don’t have to if you don’t think it would fit. But basically a happy ending with comfort.

💚

Battlefield of women - Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Author’s note: Hey you (:

Another little story requested by a wonderful Anon! I hope you like it (:

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 2.4 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"I swear!" shouts-whispers the lady sitting with you in the garden.

"No way...", sounds another lady.

You just look back and forth between the ladies. With a mixture of fear and disgust.

"Yes, you can trust me!"

The lady just shakes her head, "It's not possible for a child to be torn apart at birth and then live on!"

"Lyana! I swear that I saw the child! At the market! The mother had it in her arms!"

You can't join in the conversation. Your pale skin is even paler than usual and a nausea overcomes you. Slowly you stroke your big baby bump. You were never afraid of the birth... a certain nervousness perhaps, who wouldn't be nervous? But this story somehow changed your attitude. The two ladies continued to talk about the halved child the mother was holding in her arms. But you tried not to listen and turned your attention to the cup in your hand.

When you get back to your chambers that evening, you have no appetite. Aemond stands irritated in front of you, you don't want to accompany him to the hall to have dinner with the family. Dinner has become your ritual, where he tells you about his day. The time of day when you finally have time for each other. But he only nods slightly at you and gently kisses your forehead before leaving your chambers to have dinner with his family.

You have always looked forward to becoming a mother. And when you finally received the news that you were pregnant, it was the most beautiful moment you had ever experienced. Aemond, your lord husband, happened to be present when you received the news and was also overjoyed. When the maester left your chambers again, Aemond held you in his arms and showered you with kisses. He is a loving husband who reads your every wish from your lips. And nothing changed during your pregnancy, only increasing his care and affection.

But your positive attitude towards your pregnancy and birth diminished as you heard more and more stories of complicated births.

The story of the lady who saw the "half child" on the market was followed by a story of Helaena. You sat together in the garden and let the midday sun warm you. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera sat in front of you in the grass and played. Smiling, you watched the two of them giggling. Slowly your hand wandered gently over your belly. When Helaena spoke to you about the birth.

"Are you afraid of giving birth?" she smiled at you.

You shook your head, "No... I don't think it will be too bad. Aemond will be by my side the whole time too," you smiled at her.

"Oh Aemond is just great!" she claps her hands together, "Aegon wasn't by my side... Only my mother... But that was probably better," she looks dreamily into the distance.

"Because it actually felt like I was being torn apart!", she giggles, "But that was only because they were both trying to push their way out at the same time", the smile didn't leave her lips.

Your breath caught and you just looked startled at the twins. Inside you were screaming and hoping that there was only one child inside you and that it wouldn't tear you apart.

From then on you were plagued by the thought, what if you do have twins inside you?

But the maesters you went to see assured you that your belly was too small for twins. You were not reassured by the fact that one of the maesters added that you could, of course, also have two small children inside you, which would not make your belly as big as it usually is for twins.

Exhausted, you return to your chambers. Aemond also comes into your chambers shortly afterwards. He was very much looking forward to seeing you, but is worried when he finally sees you. You lie on your bed, seemingly powerless. He sits down on the bed with you and gently strokes your arm.

"My love...", he whispers.

You smile slightly at him.

"Are you coming to dinner?" he asks almost shyly.

You nod to him.

You eat a little, but not enough. Again and again, the fear that you might have twins inside you drills into your thoughts.

As you lie in bed at night, you cannot sleep. Aemond holds you securely in his arms and you listen to his soft breathing. But still you cannot close your eyes. Every time you close them, images immediately pop into your head of lying on a bloody bed and twins tearing you apart.

When the first rays of sunlight reach your window, you look over, startled. You haven't slept all night. Aemond moves slightly beside you and pulls you closer. He slowly opens his eye and sees you simply looking at the ceiling.

"My love..." he whispers in his sleepy, raspy voice.

You turn to face him. He smiles gently and you kiss his lips. But he notices the large, dark circles that adorn your eyes. His gaze becomes concerned.

"You didn't sleep...?" he asks gently.

You just shake your head.

"What's bothering you?", his arms pull you even closer to him.

You press your face into the crook of his neck, "Nothing my dragon... It's... just the pregnancy"

He lets his hand wander gently through your hair.

You don't want to annoy him with your silly thoughts. Your seemingly suddenly irrational fear of childbirth... He has more important things to do.

In the afternoon you sit with the ladies again. You are drinking tea together when you hear the next story. A lady tells you that her child had to be taken out with forceps. Her child simply refused to come out on its own. And so the maesters had to fetch the forceps. Now her child has a deformed skull... But, what can she do, she still loves her child and thanks to her high position, the child will be married off anyway. Your hands tremble as you bring your teacup to your mouth.

You love that little thing inside you. Your love seems endless. But in the meantime, your fear seems just as great. That you have two children inside you who want to go out at the same time. That your child will tear you apart... or that the forceps will have to be fetched and you will be blamed for your child being deformed. Will Aemond hate you for it then?

But Aemond would never hate you. Lately, he's just worried about you. You rarely eat anymore. Sleep is also a stranger to you lately. And it's not unusual for him to find you with red, puffy eyes. He immediately notices that you must have been crying. He can only watch worriedly as you leave for walks alone because you don't want to tell him what's bothering you. Somehow it seems to him that you avoid his presence. He is not used to that. You have always spent your free time together, exchanged caresses. Now you were no longer reachable for him. And that makes him insecure. He can't live without your love, your affection.

Even in the evening, when you are lying in bed and you usually snuggle up to him and he holds you safely, you turn away.

He lies on his side and looks in your direction, but he only sees your back, which is turned towards him. The warmth that usually emanates from you seems replaced by a quiet coldness.

Nevertheless, he snuggles up to you from behind, holds you, inhales your scent. Anything to numb the feeling that you might be estranged from him.

What Aemond doesn't know is that you're not doing this on purpose. You are merely caught up in your thoughts. And these thoughts cannot be stopped. The thoughts of whether you can be there for your child, be a loving mother. Whether you leave Aemond behind...

The next evening, Aemond persuades you to join him for dinner in the hall. He kneels before you, holds your hands and seeks the warmth in your gaze. He is very worried and wants you to eat with the family that night. He is not greeted by your natural warmth in your eyes, but you smile at him and lightly kiss his lips.

Together you go into the hall. As you sit together at the table, Aemond holds your hand the whole time. Again and again his thumb gently wanders over your skin. Tonight your appetite also seems to be present.

Aegon has already drunk a lot of wine and is in the best of moods. You look up in shock when even here, at dinner, the subject of birth comes up.

You try not to listen. You clasp Aemond's hand and try to concentrate on the way his beautiful fingers grip your hand and bring the fork to your mouth. But you can hardly ignore Aegon when he is literally shouting across half the table.

"I tell you, when I entered the back rooms of the noble house, I saw the whore in the midst of childbirth."

Alicent looks at Aegon, "Do you think that is adequate dinner conversation?"

Aegon just nods.

You close your eyes and don't notice the fork wobbling with your entire hand. Aemond notices and looks at you with concern. But your eyes remain closed, you try to breathe calmly.

"My love, are you all right?" Aemond whispers in your ear.

You just nod, but don't dare look at him.

Aegon suddenly chuckles and looks into his cup before taking a big gulp of wine.

"It literally tore her apart! There was blood and faeces everywhere! And then she died.", he wipes his mouth with his backhand.

"Aegon! That's disgusting!", Helaena replies to him, startled. Alicent only admonishes Aegon.

"What? A birth is something natural! And it didn't happen to you, it's all good..." he looks annoyed at his plate.

"It's not natural if the mother dies in the process! A mother should live, take care of the child..." Helaena counters him, " and besides, I didn't have an easy birth... Pushing two children out is not a pleasure... But you would know that if you had been there," she murmurs.

You stiffen. Your breath stops.

Aegon looks at Helaena, "Yes… But it's going well... The kid is alive and handing out drinks in Flea Bottom... in my favourite brothel"

You can't listen to any more of it. "Excuse me," but before you have uttered your words, you are already on your way out of the hall.

Aemond looks first at his hand, which was holding yours seconds ago, and then up. Immediately he gets up from the table and walks after you.

He runs after you and catches up with you relatively quickly, as you are not so fast because of your big belly. He holds you by the arm and turns you towards him. When you look into his eye, you can't hold it back any longer. Tears spring to your eyes. You slump down sobbing, Aemond catches you. He doesn't know what's going on and tries desperately to hold you, to calm you down somehow.

"My love... please talk to me... what is troubling you?"

But you only sob. He continues to hold you, gently stroking your back and holding your head in the crook of his neck. Eventually you manage to speak between your sobs, "I'm going to die! Our child will serve drinks in a cheap brothel!! Because I will die during childbirth!!"

He looks at you, startled, "What? My love? Why should you die??"

You gasp, "Like the whore! In Flea Bottom!!"

Now Aemond realizes it... Aegon's story.

"No. My love. You will not die. With you will be maesters and midwives! You will not die!"

But your sobs grow louder and Aemond literally absorbs your panic.

"My love... please... are you in pain?"

You shake your head slightly and the tears flow continuously, "Then our child will be torn apart! Or taken out with forceps... It will be deformed... We have to force a wedding because the skull will be deformed! You will hate me..."

You tremble and sob. When Aemond has processed your words, he takes your face in his hands, "Listen to me, my love. Listen to me."

Your breath catches, but you look at him. Your eyes are red and swollen.

"Nothing will happen to you. Do you hear me? I don't know why you think soemthing like that, but nothing is going to happen to you."

You just nod slightly.

"I mean it. Nothing will happen to you. You're not going to die. Our child will not die and will not be deformed. And never could I hate you... I love you."

You look into his purple eye.

"I will be with you all the time. I won't let anything happen to you."

You slowly calm down and nod slightly again. He spreads gentle kisses on your face while there are still scattered sobs from you.

"Nothing. Will. Happen. To. You." each word is followed by a soft kiss on your lips. You have to smile slightly.

"I promise you," he whispers against your lips.

"One more push, love!!!"

Aemond has been sitting next to you for hours after your contractions started at night. He holds your hand, kisses your face and dabs the sweat from your forehead. You almost managed to push your child out of you.

You scream with all your might and suddenly you are drowned out by baby cries. Your tear-streaked face is covered with a smile. Exhausted, you fall backwards into the pillow. Aemond smiles too and kisses your hand gently again and again. As the maester approaches you and hands you your child, "Princess... It's a healthy boy," you smile and take your son. Gently you let your lips glide over your son's bright, silver hair. He is still crying, but he is healthy. He did not have to be pulled out with forceps. He is not deformed. Neither you nor your son have been torn apart.

You press him close to you and inhale his scent. Gently you kiss his head. Aemond has his arms around you and soflty kisses your cheek, "What should his name be?" he whispers to you.

"What do you think of Baelor?" you smile at Aemond.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list

@aemonds-wifey @hoshi-miharu-blog @arryn-nyx @aemond-targaryenx