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house-strong · 1 year

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— DRAGONS BANE, chapter six ʾ ⋆

CHAPTER SIX – old quarrels not forgotten

index ; chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter seven. chapter eight. chapter nine.

summary ; newfound feelings are uncovered but the past remains a constant reminder to aemond. rhaenyra targaryen and her family return to court to discuss the succession of driftmark, should corlys velaryon pass. king viserys makes his last plea for his family to settle their differences and become just that; a family. truths and long-held grudges come out to play, and feelings are hurt.

pairings ; aemond targaryen x reader, slight!jacaerys velaryon x reader

notes / warnings ; rhaena and luke are still betrothed, but jace and baela aren’t. mentions of vaemond’s beheading, general plot line of ‘lord of the tides’ from hotd. arguing, words said out of anger, punches thrown. canon divergence: viserys doesn’t die in this chapter.

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after the heartfelt experience you shared with aemond, you two seemed to be avoiding each other like the plague. whether it was intentional or not, one thing was for certain; you were starting to miss the one-eyed prince and his occasional, discontent hum of vocality.

it was weird, without a doubt, to be wanting the company of someone who had oftentimes made you the recipient end of a jest. the memory still replays in your mind, vibrant and fresh like it was just yesterday you experienced it. this aemond was gentle and kind, drastically different from the stoic nature he bore and sneers that often left his lips.

it was nice though, nice to see the weight of being the second son of the king be lifted off his shoulders – like it was a burden too heavy to carry by himself.

you’re running a brush through your hair, detangling the clumps that stuck together, when a knock pushes away your empty thoughts. you noted that you wouldn’t try sleeping with a bun and wet hair again.

you grumble quietly to yourself, rising from your seat with your comb in hand, sauntering to the door. you slug it open and your eyes are met with a blue one.

your mouth is slightly slack; how convenient, “aemond.”

“little flower,” he greets, as if he hasn’t spent the past days ignoring your existence. you look down; he’s carrying something in his hand, wrapped with cloth that you assume is keeping its moisture. he moves past you, the breeze that follows carrying a scent that almost makes you sigh at its smell; faint pepper and wood – it’s pleasant and undeniably aemond. you almost object to him coming in, but it’s already too late.

once he’s in the safety of your room and you had closed the door behind him, he turns around, holding the wrapped item up to you as if it were a prize.

“what’s this?” you ask, moving closer. aemond’s fingers deftly uncover the item and reveals it with a little flourish that’s almost boyish; a peach cake. your lips curve into a smile and you look at him through your lashes, a short laugh of disbelief escaping you, “it’s too early for cakes, aemond. what’s it for?”

the outline of his shoulders move into a slight shrug, almost dejected, and he rewraps the cake, “a peace offering.”

“for?” you inquire deeper, watching him place the now covered peach cake on to a nearby table. you watch as he takes a gander about the room, eyeing each and every valuable that adorns the walls and shelves. he hums in content, almost happy that it’s decorated this way.

“no reason.” his hand reaches for a stone figurine, pulling it closer to his vision. a small smile creeps upon his mouth as he realizes what it is; a dragon with wings outstretched. he turns it, admiring the craftsmanship. then, he puts it back.

you assume the gift was some sort of wordless apology for his extended absence.

you eye the abandoned cake, silently cursing yourself when you move forward and grab it. your father would be far from happy if he found out this is how you broke your fast. you tear small, bite sized pieces off, wiping your index and thumb on the cloth to rid of the crumbs.

“what brings the pleasure of your presence, aemond?” you ask once your mouth is cleared. he turns to you as if his trance was broken, eyeing you carefully.

he licks his teeth, unsure and uncertain, “i don’t know.”

the response brings astonishment and confusion; he came here for.. nothing? how quaint.

he knows deep down why he came to your room. ever since he took you on your adventure through the streets of kings landing, there was confusion burrowing it’s way deep underneath his skin. he didn’t enjoy the way he was bare before you, confessing the fate of his eye, but he did enjoy the opulence you brought. the absence of disgust was something he enjoyed; he didn’t feel like a mangled, pitiful boy anymore, but a man who could bear his misfortune without fear or repercussion. he assumed that this was some cruel longing designed by the gods, the desire to be around you and feel your comfort wrap around him like the tentacles of a squid to its prey.

his feet carry him closer to you, the gap quickly dissipating with each long stride of his. he’s close now, dangerously so, his breath fanning your face and mixing with yours. the same feeling from the nightly adventure came, strong and burning with a fire that wasn’t going to be put out.

this aemond was definitely not the same as the first time you met him.

“did you truly mean it?” he asks, voice low and reverberating. it’s enough to take your breath and send a dangerous tickle to your stomach. “did you mean it, when you said you thought i could be good?”

ah, that is why he came.

you nod your head, hands finding his arms to gently hold them, “i know you can be. i meant every word.”

his eye is searching yours, searching for any signs of malice or pretend – he so desperately wants this to be real, to be set in stone that he isn’t a man set on the brutalizing path of vengeance; that he can be something other than the boy who lost his eye.

he licks his lips, eye slowly trailing down to your own. he sucks on his bottom lip and gnaws at it with uncertainty. he doesn’t like this; the way his stomach bubbles with nervousness. he’s usually strong-willed and knowing of his next move, but this, this is something he’s unsure about. he’s only ever read it in books – poetry books, matter of fact.

but this was real and not some short tale depicted in a rhythmic sequence.

feeling his conflict, you slowly creep forward to make his decision for him. it’s one that comes easily to your mind; it wouldn’t hurt, would it? your eyes flutter shut as you place a soft kiss on his lips. it’s less than a kiss actually, just your lips touching his own, unmoving ones. you’re almost self conscious at this point, but then, it’s as if something within him awakens and nudges him into action.

he releases an exhale through his nose and relaxes into your touch, one of his hands moving to fit the shape of your body. the other finds your face and cups your jaw, his long fingers cradling your head. his thumb gently strokes your cheekbone and that’s when his mouth moves against yours.

he’s less stiff now, his lips moving against your own in a slow, easy to follow rhythm; his top lip is more dominate, his bottom one supporting. it’s slow at first, lips testing the waters. it slowly morphs into something more, more passionate and wanting. his lips are increasingly rough, driven by the passion that slowly starts to build. he’s pulling you closer, hands starting to become greedy and unbecoming of a prince.

he reckons he likes this; the innocent desire to be wanted. to be wanted as he wanted, and to kiss the way he wanted. this was drastically different than the night he spent in a brothel with his brother, there, they didn’t kiss, they just —

you’re the first to pull apart, inhaling sharply to quell the dull ache that’s beginning to stir in your lungs. aemond mindlessly follows you, eye closed and lips still puckered, waiting for contact. his eye flits open and he draws in a breath. you’re both staring at each other, faces flushed and lips swollen.

“i– ” he breathes, hands dropping to his sides at realization of what had just happened. he pulls at his clothes and feels himself grow hot with every second.

you smile, a soft laugh of disbelief spewing from your lips. there’s a softness to aemond’s face; one that is unusual and gives him a boyish glow.

there’s a knock at the door that forces you two apart; aemond is practically leaping to the other side of the room whilst you take a few steps away. you watch as the former expression melts away, his stoic nature once again appearing.

you clear your throat, “come in!”

the door swings open and the appearance of a kingsguard takes up the frame. he enters and behind him, the queen alicent walks into the room. her brows shoot in at the sight of you and aemond in the room, though she makes no audible comment.

“lady tyrell,” she sings within a breath, eyes observing the distance between you and aemond, “would you be willing to accompany me on a walk?”

your head turns to aemond. he gives you a look, but turns away towards the door. he mutters a quiet ‘mother’ and abandons you with the queen. great.

“of course, your grace.”

without another word, you and the queen exit your room, accompanied by the silent kingsguard. you two begin to walk, without exchanged words, and seemingly, without a destination. your hands are joined behind your back and queen alicent’s are in front of her, neatly folded.

your mind is whirling with thoughts, thoughts about aemond and the kiss that was shared. your lips are still tingling, almost puckering at the thought of him. what did this mean? was it just a kiss because of the moment? did he like it – did he want more?

questions are flooding your mind, clouding your vision on where queen alicent is taking you. you two pass the apartments, the open roofed courtyard, then the godswood until words are spoken by queen alicent.

“princess rhaenyra is in kings landing.” her words are matter of fact. you blink away the troubles of your mind, turning your head to glance at her.

“is that so?”

“along with her family and her consort, prince daemon.”

your brows shoot up in mock interest, humming along as if it was condescending to the notion of princess rhaenyra and her family. with the time you were spending so close to queen alicent, you were noting of her interests and dislikes, and one of them, was a keen disinterest in princess rhaenyra. you’ve learned to play it by ear, often agreeing her with things you normally wouldn’t agree about.

the way she spoke her was as if she was a spurned lover, mourning over the lost of her dear beloved, then unburdening herself with pain at each and every jab spoken about the princess. it was somewhat poetic, you thought.

“she’s coming on the notion that her son, lucerys, must inherit driftmark. vaemond velaryon, wants to see an end to the inheritance,” she continues. why was she telling you this? was this her way of parading the princess rhaenyra’s family in your face – as a way to tell you that they weren’t coming for your rescue? “the crown is going to back vaemond velaryons claim.”

it’s almost as if the sentence was supposed to be a test, for she gives you a side eye look that you could see from your peripheral.

maintaining your composure, you turn to her, “a wise decision.”

you two continue to walk. her arm slips into yours, linking your arms together. you look down at the conjuction, raising your head to smile at the queen.

“there’s also another matter, my dear.” she says, her other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. to her dismay, it doesn’t stay. “you’re going to join our feast, as a guest of honor.”

your brows shoot up and your eyes widen. you open your mouth to protest, but the queen shushes you gently.

she shakes her head, waving her other hand in dismissal, “don’t fret, little one. you will be perfect, i assure you.”

“you honor me, your grace.” words finally come out of your gaping mouth and she smiles. she unlinks her arm from yours, moving to stand in front of you rather than beside you. you both stop walking.

“run along and get dressed – don’t forget helaena!”

you curtsy at the leave and nod your head in response to her words. you excuse yourself, moving past the kingsguard. your feet carry you back to your room, steps quick and light. you smile at the lords and ladies you pass, hands bunching up the ends of your dress to allow more room to move.

you soon reach your room and stop in your tracks once you enter. steps away is the same spot you and aemond had just kissed. it feels like it happened forever ago and it’s faint within your memory. you sigh, smiling at the abandoned wrapper of the peach cake you were eating – the peach cake he brought.

you move towards your wardrobe, rummaging through the dresses that were hung. your thoughts wander to rhaenyra and her family. if what queen alicent had said was true, then that means jacaerys would be among the members of her family that would be at court during the hearing.

you smile to yourself once more, sucking on your bottom lip.

once the dress you picked out is chosen, your hands fly to the strings of your dress. you pick at them, doing your best to loosen each strand so you could shed the layer. you shrug the fabric off, chemise slightly loose against your skin. you pull your chosen dress out, pulling it on. you tie the strings as best as you can, adjusting yourself so the dress fits just a bit better.

looking in the mirror, you fix the flyaways and try to tame the wildness that appears after your dress change.

when you’re finished with that, you smooth out the fabric and pick out new shoes and jewelry.

you walk out of your room and make the journey to princess helaena’s room. once you reach it, you are met with a kingsguard who eyes you curiously. you tip your head, giving him a small smile in which he returns. he turns, knocking on the door then announcing your arrival.

he opens the door once helaena wishes it and allows you to walk past him. you enter the room, your smile widening at the sight of princess helaena. she’s lovely in her golden gown, with hair strung up and out of her face in an intricate manner that you’re sure you want to copy sometime later. you curtsy then approach, kissing her on the cheek.

“helaena, you look lovely.”

she blushes, shaking her head, “thank you, my friend. you look as beautiful yourself.”

you wave away her compliment, reaching for her hand. you exchange pleasantries, talking about your mornings and the events you were up to. you lead her out of her room, escorted by the kingsguard to the throne room.

in the throne room, there’s rows of lords and ladies chatting with one another. some members of the royal family, queen alicent, ser otto, and aemond are standing the nearest to the throne. you lead helaena towards her family, smiling at her and staying silent while her grandsire acknowledges her. you settle between them and aemond, casting him a side eye glance which he returns.

the doors open once more and the crowd stands at attention to the arrival of princess rhaenyra and her family. prince daemon is by her side, with jacaerys and lucerys trailing after them, the former with his head held high and chin jutted out. the other looks unsure, as if he wants to sink into the floor and never come out. you watch as jacaerys surveys the room, his eyes locking with yours.

he dips his head at you, a smile parting his lips. you do the same in return, maintaining eye contact while his family settles on the other side. it’s broken when you hear the whisper of alicent beside you.

“where is your brother?”

you look in your peripheral, brow raising slightly as aemond shrugs carelessly.

“i don’t have the faintest clue.”

queen alicent huffs and it’s as if the gods willed it, for aegon struts in from one of the side doors. he settles on the other side of aegon and there’s a distinct, perfumed smell that follows him. you wrinkle your nose at the scent that wafts over.

the crowd quiets down as ser otto moves toward the throne. he greets them and announces the reasoning for their gathering: to settle the line of succession for driftmark. your mind wanders as they begin to converse.

you didn’t particularly care to listen in; by lawful rights, driftmark was to pass to lucerys velaryon.

it’s vaemond’s turn to speak, his voice demanding reason and clarity. he makes jabs at the parentage of princess rhaenyra’s children by ser laenor, his words laced with discontent. they battle with words, and soon, it’s rhaenyra’s turn to defend her son.

her words are short lived, for the arrival of the king interrupts the hearing.

“king viserys of house targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, the rhoynar, and the first men, lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm.”

his name is announced by the voice of ser erryk and all turn their heads to face their king. one by one, each row bows their head as their king passes, his steps slow and heavy. ser otto arises from the throne, taking steps down so that king viserys may sit.

the room is hushed as king viserys is aided by his brother, prince daemon, and the hearing proceeds as normal. king viserys notes that he thought the succession was settled years ago.

vaemond and rhaenyra continue to battle, word for word. worse comes to worse, and rhaenyra is renounced as a whore.

gasps fill the room and one leaves you as well. vaemond is continuing to levy insults to the princess, then his words are cut short by the pronounced slice of his head. the cut is true and vaemond’s head leaves his body with a sickening squelch.

your eyes widen in horror and you turn, screwing your eyes shut as aemond’s body next to you, moves in front. he’s holding his arm out in front of you and helaena, observing the body with his mouth hung open in almost astonishment.

“he can keep his tongue.”

“disarm him!”

“no need.”

your eyes peek open as lucerys is reaffirmed as the successor of driftmark. queen alicent, beside you, scoffs. aemond turns around, his arms corralling you and helaena away from the body. blood is pooling around vaemond and you can’t help but feel sick to the stomach.

“don’t look,” he whispers, gently pushing you away from the scene. a plethora of feelings mingle in your stomach, pushing you towards queasiness and nausea.

together, you, helaena, and aemond leave the throne room, the beheading of vaemond velaryon left behind. aemond escorts you and helaena to a nearby, private room to catch your bearings. helaena is obviously distraught and aemond is doing his best to quell her anxiety. you exhale slowly, raising a hand to rub at your temple; the events of today were starting to blur together.

“and yet, we still have to stomach a feast,” you grumble, shooting a look to the prince and princess. aemond scoffs, shaking his head and rubbing helaena’s shoulder.

“do they all sound like that?” helaena’s voice is weak, rattled by the events that just taken place. aemond frowns, nodding his head.

“‘fraid so, sweet sister,” he soothes. “best not to think of it.”

helaena nods her head at her brothers words, her hand coming to rest upon her forehead. she sighs and moves to sit down on a sofa nearby. you join her, your hand finding her free one and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“at least we can celebrate that your nephew hasn’t been undermined, right, aemond?” you say, your words directed towards helaena. you shoot aemond a look. you don’t like the way his face has twisted into a grimace at your words, but when helaena peeks up at him, he nods his head and the expression melts away.

there’s some time that passes before the three of you are collected by a kingsguard. he escorts you to a dining hall, where there’s a great table surrounded by chairs on even sides. there’s silverware and platters parallel to each chair.

it seems as if it’s on cue when everyone enters, slowly picking their place amongst the chairs. you’re unsure, but soon, there’s a chair in between helaena and aemond that’s empty. you move forward to take it and a servant helps you scoot in your chair when you take a seat.

you all settle, then arise at the presence of the king. he’s carried in by targaryen men on a portable chair. you grimace at his appearance; disheveled and clearly taken with sickness.

queen alicent leads the prayer and you bow your head in respect. king viserys begins his tribute to his family, imploring them to return affections and quell the hatred that was growing.

you take a look around the room once he starts talking, suddenly feeling out of place when the topic of family is brought up. beside you, aemond surprises you by settling his hand near yours. his pinky twitches closer to touch you and you swear it’s almost his way of including you into the fold. your heart flips and you bite back the smile that’s surely making itself known.

princess rhaenyra toasts queen alicent, and the latter remarks the princess that she would make a fine queen.

aegon, seated a chair away beside helaena, gets up and pours himself another cup of wine. he’s near baela, remarking how if she ever needed to know what satisfaction was, to ask him. together, you and baela make a face. jacaerys slams his hands on the table and stands right up, his jaw set.

beside you, aemond silently rises to his feet to meet his nephew. you turn your head to look, gaze flickering between the two. jacaerys and aemond stare at each other, unwavering and challenging. jace raises his cup instead and makes a toast towards his uncles, landing a delicate punch on aegons shoulder.

“to prince aegon and prince aemond, we have not seen each other in years, but i have fond memories of our shared youth. and as men, i hope we may yet be friends and allies. to you and your family’s health, dear uncles.”

“to you as well.”

everyone raises their cup to sip at the contents and both princes settle back in their seats. aemond is more hesitant and slow to the action, his stare hard on the eldest velaryon. aemond licks his teeth and sucks his cheeks in before he sits down, casting a side eye towards you.

helaena’s cryptic words follow, but it’s hushed and too quiet to hear over the ruckus of silverware clattering. the princess then toasts to baela and rhaena, remarking that they will be married soon. scattered laughs arise at the end of her toast, causing the princess to bashfully sit back down. you frown at the end, gently toying your silverware.

“let us have some music.”

the feast begins and the table is ignited by family members speaking to each other, a song playing to even out the sound in the room. you and aemond, side by side, are silent and onlooking to the other members of the table. your eyes find jacaerys, who is already looking at you. you smile and raise the cup of wine in front of you, and he does the same.

he moves to get up, excusing himself from his side of the family before making his way to you and helaena. he reaches for both your hands and you laugh.

“are you sure you can handle both of us, my prince?” you ask, taking his hand and rising from your seat. he gives you a toothy grin before pulling you and helaena towards the empty space that he would use as a dance floor.

“i’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, my lady.”

aemond and aegon give each other a look, the hardness settling in both their jaws. aemond watches as you, helaena, and jace dance, somehow making the triage look more graceful than it should’ve been. the three of you are laughing and exchanging words that he can’t hear. aemond picks up his knife, twirling it in his grasp before using his other hand to sip at his wine.

“you drink like a braavosi seahorse, aegon.” aemond comments quietly, eyeing his brother as he had finished his fourth cup since the dinner started.

aegon rolls his eyes, waving off aemond’s comment, “you drink too little, brother.”

“i drink enough,” aemond retorts. he licks his lips, leaning in closer to aegon with a scowl on his face, “even with the noose tied so tight, they expect us to break bread.”

aegon murmurs in agreement.

the king is riddled with sickness and then escorted out of the room by the guards. everyone arises and the three of you stop dancing out of respect. your laughter dies down, soft gasps of air heaving in your chest. there’s a platter of smoked pig that enters the room and you follow mindlessly, your appetite beginning to growl with life at the mere smell. if it tastes as it smells, then it would be delicious.

jace reaches out for your hand, stopping you in your tracks. you turn around and look at him.

“my lady, hopefully our family’s come to an agreement and we are betrothed. it’s something i would like, very much, if you would.” his tone is sincere, his hand warm despite the clothing that served as a barrier. you smile at him and nod your head; he then releases you from his hold.

you return to the table, smoothing out your dress and moving it so you could sit.

stifled laughter comes from across the table draws your attention and you locate the source: lucerys velaryon. you watch aemond give him a look, the edges of his mouth turning downward and his brow furrowing into anger.

“aemond,” you whisper, already sensing the incoming retaliation that was surely beginning to arise. the snicker, the sly comment from jacaerys about betrothal paired with his toast – it was all becoming too much for aemond. it was disrespectful and tasteless.

despite the quiet plea that danced off your tongue, aemond’s fist plummets into the table. the music cuts off and the sound of silverware rattling fills the silence. aemond rises to his feet and grabs his cup in one fluid motion.

“final tribute,” aemond says, shrugging off the touch that you placed on his arm. “to the health of my nephews: jace, luke, and joffrey. each of them handsome, wise..”

his words trail off, as if he’s envisioning the chaos that would no doubt follow, “strong.”

“aemond–”

“come,” aemond interrupts; everyone at the table casts each other uneasy stares. jace is squared, facing aemond with a twisted expression, and luke is watching with his brows knitted together. “let us drain our cups to these three, strong boys.”

“i dare you to say that again.” you turn your head to see jace, defiantly raising his head to aemond.

aemond puts his arm around you to move you out of his way, “why? ‘twas only a compliment. do you not think yourself strong?”

the gap between them rapidly closes as they approach each other and jace’s enclosed hand flies to aemond’s jaw. aemond’s face sharply turns at the contact and luke rises from his seat to try and take aegon, who was going to aemond’s rescue. aegon, instead, slams little luke’s head into the table. the younger, smaller boy struggles against aegon’s hold.

“jace!”

you take a step back as aemond faces jace, using one arm to push his nephew. whether it’s from aemond’s strength or jace’s poor footing, the latter falls to the ground. with an angry growl, jace gets up but is intervened by a targaryen guard.

despite the severity of what he caused, aemond laughs and turns back toward the table – it’s devoid of true happiness, like he’s laughing just to laugh. he locks eyes with you, but he’s intercepted by alicent, who tries to pull him aside. you can still hear her question him.

“i was merely expressing how proud i am of my family mother, hm,” he turns his attention back to his nephews and pulls his arm sharply out of his mothers grasp, “though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

prince daemon stops the assault jacaerys was about to put on aemond and instead, stands in front of his family. you scoff audibly, pushing your chair in with disappointment before escaping the escalated tension of the room. before aemond can react to daemon, he hums in disapproval then saunters after you with slow steps.

you’re only able to get down the hallway and round one corner before you hear your name being shouted by aemond. you shake your head and ignore his cries. his steps turn into a jog and he grabs your hand, turning you to face him.

“are you so hellbent on depriving the happiness of everyone around you?” you question, brows furrowing as you snatch your arm out of his hold. there’s a fire in your eye, one that he had not seen in some time – not since the day he told you that he wouldn’t be friends with you. look at you two now; quarreling like lovers.

his own brows knit together and he shifts his weight on his feet. he was unapologetic; they needed to be reminded of their place, just as luke callously reminded himself of his former treatment.

aemond scoffs, “you expect me to silently break bread while they parade my darkest memories in front of me? while they laugh at the ruin they caused?”

“they are your family.”

“they’re bastards,” he snarls with a newfound hatred. his eye is a dark blue; wide, wild, and clouded with vexation, “the bastards who stole my eye and made me who i am.”

some part of you wants to understand, to reach out and soothe the burden of desolation he carried, but the cruel callousness was something too much for you. it was too hateful and spiteful; it almost scared you to see it on aemond.

you shake your head in denial, taking a step back, “this isn’t who you are, aemond. this isn’t the same aemond that took me to a festival, simply because it made me happy, or the same aemond that was in my room, hours ago.”

his jaw becomes hard, his fists clenching at his sides; the knuckles burn white hot on the skin. he feels like he’s at war with himself; at war between two aemond’s that are fighting for control. one is forever bitter and grows with resentment, and the other is the same boy he was before his eye was taken out – the boy who wants to find clarity and peace. he wants desperately to be rid of this pain, but he felt like one couldn’t exist without the other.

“this is who i am.”

his words are spat like poison, dripping from his fangs as if he were a snake levying it’s primal defense against you. you’re upset; bordering heartbreak as the feelings, the memories you’ve created with him are turned to ash, turning the buds of your mouth sour.

was it all a lie? some little game he fabricated to pass the time?

you are staring at him, defiant yet saddened by his choice of words. his beady eye finally blinks at you, his stare still cold to the feeling.

you scoff and turn on your heel to leave him in the hallway.

despite your best thoughts, what were you really expecting? some happy ending, spurned friends turned romantic lovers? did you think he would easily forget the torment he suffered?

whatever it was, it was disappointing to see and hear the truth.

aemond targaryen would not change his hatefulness, not even for the pretty words you sang to him earlier. he liked them – without a doubt, but there was something that clung on to him, a wickedness he felt the need to feed.

he would not change, not now; not while the memory lives fresh in his mind.

#dragons bane #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen series #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #my writing

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houseofhyde · 1 year

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❜ 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄’𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐏𝐒, aka the fics currently occupying my drafts and fighting for my﹙limited﹚attention in the hopes of getting posted first. feel free to send asks about these fics, or even encourage me to write whichever you like the sound of most ! these are all x fem!reader

aegon tagaryen, false idol.

“aemond, i’m out shopping...”

synopsis. but you’re underneath aegon, and he’s not stopping. main warnings. fuckbuddy!aegon, smut, a dash of angst. word count. unknown.

aemond targaryen, kinslayer.

our hollow vows.

synopsis. first, lucerys velaryon took his eye. then, he took his pride. now, he's taken the woman he wished to take as his bride. ten years have passed since that fateful night on driftmark and now the blacks have returned to king's landing, but aemond targaryen has his eye set on one of them: you. with your rumoured betrothal to his attacker and the lingering feelings between your childhood selves, this is bound to be a family reunion for the history books. main warnings. niece!reader﹙ bastard daughter of rhaenyra and daemon born before jace﹚, targcest, angst, fluff, smut. word count. unknown, 5 part series.

all these things that i have done.

synopsis. the prince learns the hard way that bravery on the battlefield amounts to nothing if he can't be honest with his feelings for you. main warnings. canon divergence ﹙aegon usurps the throne, no dance of the dragons happens﹚, purity culture, jealous!aemond, aegon being a little shit, aemond lacking the concept of communication, violence, descriptions of injuries, angst, fluff, sexual tension. word count. 8k+ ﹙predicted﹚

another man’s pleasure.

synopsis. a pregnancy, a nameday and a drunken evening make for a dangerous concoction between the one-eyed dragon and the royal wolf. main warnings. stark!reader, infedility, angst, smut. word count. unknown.

daemon targaryen, lord fleabottom.

& the sun came crashing down.

synopsis. every great fairytale needs a deadly dragon, a brave prince and a damsel in distress. but when roles are reversed in a world where the dragon becomes an ally, the prince is a patient and the damsel must play the part of the hero, can happily ever after truly exist?- or, where a girl stumbles upon a fallen dragon and it's injured rider and makes it her mission to nurse them back to health. main warnings. memory loss, ooc!daemon ﹙makes sense with the plot﹚, angst, fluff, smut. word count. 50k+ ﹙predicted﹚, 5 part series.

but only for tonight.

synopsis. to most, the rogue prince is an untamable beast, with the fury of a thousand men and a mind more stubborn than a mule. to you, he’s a nuisance in expensive clothing, prone to run away with his tail between his legs each time you reassure him you’re still not interested in entertaining his company. until disaster strikes and the only corner of the keep your legs seem to carry you to are his chamber doors. requested by @nyctophilic0vitnir

main warnings. smut.

word count. 5k+ ﹙predicted﹚

#𓄹 nav.#aemond targaryen smut #daemom targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen oneshot #daemon targaryen oneshot #aemond targaryen series #daemon targaryen series

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gibsonsgirl · 1 year

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minasvalentine · 7 months

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same person , different font

#aemond targaryen #loki laufeyson #same person different font #game of thrones #house of the dragon #marvel #Thor #loki #smut #realtalk #series #aemond targaryen x reader #loki laufeyson x reader

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merlot-and-chardonnay · 1 month

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What Could Have Been and What Will Be

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aegon II Targaryen

A very long drabble based on the works of @maidragoste and her series The Queen and Her Husbands.

I love this series and I asked the account who gave me permission to write a one-shot for the reader and her husbands Aemond and Aegon. If you like this story, or if you don't, but still want to read the series, I encourage you all to go do so and to support the writer's content.

Summary: Aemond and Aegon spend the morning in bed with you, their wife who is six moons pregnant with Aegon's child; Aegon wakes to see Aemond relishing in your condition and a conversation ensues as a result.

Mostly fluff, though brief elusions to the Blood and Cheese event (spoilers from Fire and Blood and possibly HotD season 2), and maybe some implications of suggestive content along the way.

The sun was just starting to rise by the time Aemond was roused from deep sleep. The prince made a deep sigh and nuzzled his wife's neck, relishing in your warmth as you slept.

Aemond wrapped an arm around you, going stiff for a brief moment when he felt another hand wrapped you. He opened his eye to see his brother snuggled next to you on the other side, his face nuzzled against your breasts, a content smile on his face.

Admittedly this used to bother Aemond at first, when you insisted your share a bed with the men you love, being your husbands that is. Now the prince didn't mind as much; if anything, Aemond found the bed was actually colder without Aegon to cuddle with the both of you at nights. This was certainly something Aemond never imagined he would've ever enjoyed doing with his brother of all things.

Such feelings have only intensified when the maesters had made the official announcement to confirm that you were with child...Aegon's child.

Even though the maesters and Alicent had done their best to assure the nobles at court that Aegon was indeed the father, there was still speculation that you had been spending nights with Aemond; therefore, no one could know for certain if Aegon even was the father of your next child. In truth, you had been visiting Aemond at nights, via the secret tunnels in the Holdfast, when you were supposedly sharing a bed with Aegon, though the two of you were careful in making sure there was no intercourse when you and Aemond pleasured one another in bed.

Now that the pregnancy was confirmed- now that it was made certain you were carrying the king's child- there was no longer any need to sneak around, and you could share a bed with both of your husbands, paying no heed to how this would look to anyone else at court (Alicent had certainly thrown a fit at first, saying it was not decent, but she has made her peace and learned to accept that this is the way things are to be with her surviving children).

Neither brother was overly ecstatic about sleeping in the same bed at first, but if it made you happy, they were more than willing to at least tolerate each other and compromise for the sake of your happiness.

So here you were now, secure in your husbands warmth as you continued to sleep.

Aemond moved his own hand away from Aegon's finding he was pressing it against your bump that was six moons along with your pregnancy. Your second pregnancy ever...but your very first one with Aegon. In the early stages, Aemond had imagined he wasn't going to be this invested in your condition; in fact, the prince had expected on some level he was going to resent it all, the fact that his wife was with child again but he was not father.

However, as you had grown further along, as your baby bump became more visible, Aemond began to realize he relished in seeing you begin to glow with motherhood, enjoy it even. It was moments such as these were Aemond was most at peace, giving him hope for their future together, for the realm, and for their family and its continuing legacy. This was a symbol of hope for the remaining Targaryens and the realm that they could heal from the past war and move forward to a brighter future.

Being lost in thought, mindlessly rubbing your bump, Aemond didn't notice his brother begin to stir from sleep as well; he didn't see it coming when he felt Aegon's hand lightly brush over his. The prince looked to see his brother had his own hand placed against your bump as well. He looked up to see Aegon's eyes were open, albeit sleepily, indicating he was still waking up.

The king had a indecipherable smile on his face the moment he made eye contact with his brother.

"Oh, look at you, brother," Aegon spoke, voice still rugged from sleep, "I never would've expected this from you of all people." "Expect what?" Aemond frowned a bit. "This," Aegon gestures with his head in a lazy manner, "you being...soft. I never would have expected something like that from you."

Aemond felt his face heat up a little from this observation. Sure, the prince may come off as standoff-ish, especially where the court was concerned, but the prince did have his soft moments in private, especially where the women in his life were concerned, his mother, his late sister, his young niece, and now his wife.

Rather than get defensive about it, Aemond grumbled a little and hid his face against your neck, something Aegon lightly chuckled at.

Aegon continued to rub your bump in a loving manner, and it didn't go unnoticed in the way Aemond was repeated those actions, as both brothers kept an eye on their sleeping wife in case you were to wake; they hoped you would continue to get as much rest as you could with your present condition.

"...Does it bother you?" Aegon decides to ask, seemingly to no one, but Aemond knew he was the one that question was directed at. "Does what bother me?" "This?" Aegon gestures to your bump, "her being with child. That child...being mine? Does it bother you. You don't have to answer, I was just curious."

Aemond had to think about it for a moment. It wasn't as simple as answering yes or no. But Aemond remembered the agreement he and Aegon had made with you earlier in this relationship, that there wouldn't be any secrets from one another, that you and them would be transparent in your feelings to one another, to this relationship, and to speak up if one was feeling left out in this marriage.

"...it did bother me at first," Aemond admits, "but now, I find myself actually liking it." "Oh?" "I...I didn't get to do this before," Aemond continues, surprised he could have confess something so vulnerable to his brother, "when (y/n) was pregnant with Aemon and Baelon. I wasn't there for her during the war, during....my time in Harrenhal. I didn't get to see her grow with our sons, I didn't get to feel the babes kick in her belly I...I missed out all these little moments with the twins. Now that she is with child again, I feel as if I have been given a second chance, to be with her this time around."

Aemond waited for Aegon to say something, though he wasn't sure what to expect. In the past, he would have expected his brother to say something crude or mock him in some way. Now, he wasn't so sure how Aegon was going to respond to something so emotionally raw.

"If it makes you feel better, I saw (y/n) being pregnant with your sons as my second chance," Aegon admitted, which took Aemond by surprise. "What do you mean?" "...I wasn't there for Helaena when she was pregnant with our children," Aegon admits, "I...I was not the best husband to her. I may not have loved her in that way, the way I love (y/n), but I still could have been there for her in this fragile state. I wasn't there for Helaena when I should have. But I was there for (y/n), it gave me the chance to be there for someone in our family who needed that kind of support."

This confession definitely perplexed Aemond to a certain degree. He knew damn well how Aegon handled Helaena's pregnancies, he was there to see how it went. Hells, Aemond was the one who was there for his sister when Aegon wasn't, and it did anger him that Aegon couldn't have been bothered. He didn't, however, realize up until now this was something Aegon had come to regret.

"A son will be expected you know," Aemond informs his brother, rubbing your baby bump, "at least that is what mother says." "I'm not sure I want a son," Aegon admits, mimicking his brother's actions, "I want it to be another daughter, like Jaehaera." Aemond frowned a bit at that confession, which didn't go unnoticed by Aegon, "Part of me worries that what happened to Jaehaerys...and also to Maelor, I worry that a similar fate will befall this little one should it be a boy."

Aemond felt he understood. It made him realize how much the Blood and Cheese tragedy effected his brother. He knew how it affected Helaena on an intrinsic level, but it didn't occur to him how much Aegon would have been grieving over the loss of his son...both of his sons. It was, after all, why Aegon had Rhaenyra executed in the first place, to avenge his oldest son. It was part of why Aemond confronted Daemon over the God's Eye to avenge the death of his nephew.

Aemond then placed his own hand over Aegon's, right over the spot he was rubbing on your swollen baby, "We'll make sure that will never happen," he assures, "never again. We'll all make certain this child will be safe and grow into the future king or queen they are meant to be. We'll make certain this child is loved and cared for. We won't make the mistakes we made in the past, nor will we repeat the mistakes our own parents made."

Aegon nods, a silent acceptance of this vow. They will be there for this child, and for the rest of their surviving children as well.

Right then, both brothers felt the babes' kick against your belly, taking them both by surprise. Aegon couldn't help but smile at that, "it appears this little one has been listening in on our conversation." "Must appear to agree," Aemond smiles back as Aegon presses a kiss where the babe kicked.

The babe kicked once again at that.

Right at that moment, you began to stir from sleep. You rub your swollen belly, right where the babe had kicked. You open your eyes to see both your husbands were already awake.

"Good morning, dear husbands," you say as you stretch and stifle a yawn. "Good morning," Aegon says, "Did we wake you?" "Not at all," you assure moving to lay on your back, attempting to sit up, but having some trouble. Aemond gave a helping hand there. "If anything, this little one was the one to decide when my rest was over."

Both your husbands chuckled at that statement. You have been noticing lately since they both started sharing a bed with you, they've been agreeing on lot more things, which included your attempts at humor.

"Have the two of you been up for long?" "Not too long," Aemond assures. "Just enough to have a conversation," Aegon adds. "What kind of conversation?" you asks.

Aegon and Aemond just exchange a knowing look before Aemond made the answer, "we have decided we are both excited for this little one to come into this world soon." "They will be loved and well cared for...and protected by those who would wish them harm," Aegon adds, placing a hand on your bump. You place a hand over his, which was then covered by Aemond's hand.

"Yes..." you speak, "they will be loved and protected...they are the future of this family."

The three of you laid there for a little while longer enjoying the silence, you unaware of what was spoken between your husbands earlier when you were asleep.

That it had reached an unspoken conclusion that for better or for worse, they were all in this together...they would be together to raise whatever children you will have with them, no matter who the father was.

#hotd #aemond targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen #the queen and her husbands #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #I really did ask permission to write this piece for another person's series I swear #I hope I did it justice #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader

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sapphire-writes · 7 months

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Ch. 3: Aemond Sees A Ghost

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

summary ~ Aemond tells you everything.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: NSFW/MDNI ~ dubcon (possession), kissing, grinding, spooky stuff, thunderstorms, mentions of death, themes of loss

note: I'd say we're halfway through our spooky adventure! smh I can't believe it! I hope you enjoy loves!

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

“I want to know everything.”

The kettle whistles noisily before you remove it from the burner. Aemond sits in his usual spot clad in checkered pajama pants and a gray cotton t-shirt. You wonder how he isn’t cold, your bare arms are covered in goosebumps and you wish you’d grabbed a sweatshirt before leading him down to the kitchen.

There’s a constant unearthly chill in this house. You set the tea in front of him, his fingers brushing against yours as you sit beside him.

“Harrenhal,” he says softly, as a floorboard creaks overhead. You both glance up at the ceiling, watching as the chandelier trembles, the crystals reflecting the dim kitchen light.

You’ve seen it happen before when people walk upstairs; when little Jaehaera runs down the hall, when workers are moving down the hallways. The hour is late now, the workers have gone home, and little Jaehaera is tucked safely in her bed.

The floorboards above creak, regardless of the truth.

“We’re not the only ones here,” you slowly begin, eyes falling back to Aemond’s face, “We’re not the only ones in Harrenhal. Are we?”

Aemond is silent for a moment.

“No,” he says softly, “We aren’t.”

Tea turns to coffee as the sky lightens.

And Aemond tells you everything.

“Ghosts,” you breathe, “But…that’s not possible.”

“It is,” Aemond insists, “There is something here. Some energy….the locals are right when they call this place cursed. Tragedy befalls anyone who holds it.”

Your skill prickles with goosebumps. Aemond holds it. What tragedy will befall him? You think of Alys, of the sudden death of his wife.

Perhaps his tragedy has already unfolded.

“It was Harren, last night,” Aemond tells you, “And his sons, I presume. The original manor was burnt to the bare bones after they created it. With him and his sons inside of it. A terrible fire.”

A chill runs through you at the memory.

“I’ve encountered them before. They’re rather harmless,” Aemond continues, “Simply walking the halls throughout the night. Others are not as pleasant, but…harmless. For the most part.” He pauses, glancing up at you.

The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention.

“What others?” you ask, though you’re unsure if you want the answer.

“The ones I’ve encountered throughout my time here,” Aemond sighs, rubbing his eyes. The ring on his hand catches your eye; stamped with the Targaryen crest.

You’d see another just like it. Daemon’s face flashes across your mind.

“Your uncle was here,” you tell him, watching as his spine straightens, his shoulders tense, “He knows about them too I presume? He said some things---I’m sorry….it was when you were away, I nearly forgot-”

“What did he want?” Aemond interrupts, staring at you with a renewed fire in his eye.

“He just wanted to speak with you,” you tell him.

“Did he bother you? Was he inappropriate?”

“He was a bit flirtatious, that’s all,” you assure him, cheeks warming at the memory.

Aemond bristles at that, his hand clenching into a fist. Your stomach flips with embarrassment, the burning sensation on your cheeks spreading down your neck.

“I apologize for that,” he says cooly, “He’s a vile creature.”

You place your hand on top of his fist, “It’s alright.”

Aemond’s gaze softens, and he places his opposite hand on top of yours. You lose yourself in the sensation of his hand on yours for a moment, a pleasant swooping sensation in your lower stomach. You hold his gaze, desire burning hot in your belly. It’s you who looks away first, feeling embarrassed about the intense longing you feel for your employer. You shouldn’t be thinking like this.

“Who was screaming?” you ask, bringing the conversation back to the ghosts.

You can almost hear it still, the sound of screaming echoing in your mind. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to forget, even when Harrenhal is simply a memory. Aemond only stares.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, “I’m not…sure.”

You don’t know which answer you’d hoped for but find that the one Aemond gives brings you no comfort.

Jaehaera hates thunderstorms.

This is mostly due to the fact that the nursery has a balcony with French doors overlooking the God’s Eye and backyard. When it is sunny, warm rays light the room making it appear bathed in gold. But when it rains, water is hurled violently against the glass echoing throughout the room.

The nursery also has a closet on the opposite side of the room; the doors are made of mirrors. The room was once used as a dance studio, you could tell the moment you’d stepped inside. The wood floors are scuffed from years of use. You can’t help but wonder who danced there.

This is exactly why Jaehaera insisted on a sleepover in the main living room that night. She suggested it during dinner when thunderclouds were just starting to roll in and turn the sky an eerie gray color.

“I like it,” Helaena spoke, surprising you, “Let’s have a proper campout.”

So you found yourselves dragging blankets and pillows down the stairs into the living room, assembling a blanket fort with Aemond’s help, and sitting inside of it. The small space was rather cramped with the three of you inside; baby Maelor was already sound asleep in his bassinet.

Helaena was quiet the majority of the time, besides when she was quietly humming to herself. She seemed happy though from what you could tell. As happy as Helaena could be. She always had an air of melancholia around her.

“I have a story,” Helaena says.

It is the first time she’s spoken that evening. Jaehaera stands behind Aemond braiding his hair as she often does. She glances at her mother, giving her a toothy grin.

“A long time ago,” Helaena begins, her eyes looking somewhere far off, “There was a girl dressed in green locked away in a castle.”

“I like castles,” Jaehaera comments, continuing to braid Aemond’s hair.

“She was young and beautiful, and very, very sad,” Helaena continued, “She wed the king, and became a queen. It was everything a girl should want. But she didn’t want it at all.”

You watch Helaena as she taps her nails against the cup of tea she holds. They’re painted silver; Jaehaera’s doing. The paint is chipped around her thumbs already. A nervous habit you’d noticed.

“Why not?” Jaehaera asks, her nose scrunched as she pouts, “I’d like to be a queen.”

“She was in love with the princess, you see, and never wanted the old king. But he took her anyway because that is what men in power do. They take pretty little girls and keep them locked away.”

“Did she have children?” Jaehaera asks.

“She did. Many. She loved them all dearly. Beautiful children they were, and they were all taken from her. She outlived them all,” Helaena continues, “Mad with grief, the queen locked herself away this time.”

Helaena sips from her cup, a smile twitching on her lips.

“I never understood Daisy before having a child,” she muses, switching away from her story, “Before having a girl. I hope she’ll be a fool.”

A shiver rolls down your spine as Helaena locks eyes with you.

“That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world. A beautiful little fool,” she says softly, eyes flickering toward her brother, “Mũna said the same thing once, didn’t she Aem?”

Aemond holds his sister’s gaze, “I don’t remember.”

“I’m sure of it,” she says, mouth stretching open into a yawn, “You’d read aloud and Mũna would stroke your hair. You always liked that book.”

“I like a lot of books,” Aemond says, the top of his cheeks turning pink as he reaches behind him and lifts a giggling Jaehaera into the air as he stands, “It’s late, zaldrīzītsos. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Jaehaera insists, though she echoes her mother’s yawn.

You all exit the fort, Helaena retiring to the couch. She lays on her back, stretching like a cat.

“Mhmm,” Aemond says, depositing her into Helaena’s arms on the couch.

He tucks them both in, turning the remainder of the lights off before joining you on the makeshift mattresses on the floor. You can only see the outline of him in the darkness; the curve of his nose, the twinkling of his eye.

“Is Helaena alright?” you whisper, and he presses a finger to your lips.

“Yes,” he breathes, thumb tracing your lower lip, “Thank you, for doing this.”

“Of course,” you whisper, barely breathing as his finger traces down your chin, “Are you tired?”

“No,” he says softly, his hand sliding down the curve of your neck, “I’m a bit of an insomniac.”

Your breathing becomes labored as his thumb strokes your collarbone. You wish you’d worn something else, not the ratty old band t-shirt you’d chosen paired with some sleep shorts.

“Oh,” you say, unsure of how else to answer him.

Your thoughts scramble when he touches you, as though his touch short circuits the wiring in your brain. He says your name then, so softly you almost miss it. He’s close enough to kiss, all you need to do is lean forward and his nose will bump against your own.

His hand falls from you. Eyes adjusted to the dark, you watch as his tongue darts out wetting his lower lip.

“Aemond,” you say softly, and he reaches for you again, this time lacing his fingers through yours, “Will we be alright down here?”

His eye flickers around your face, his fingers tightening in your grip.

“I won’t let anything happen,” he assures, “To any of us.”

You choose to believe him. He sounds so certain, he truly believes it. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect Helaena. Jaehaera. Maelor.

You.

You rub your thumb against the smooth skin of the back of his hand and soon your eyes grow heavy as sleep overtakes you.

You wake in the middle of the night, closer to morning than to midnight. The sky is still black as ink, the sounds of rain splattering against the many windows. There is no room for stars, the entire night sky is blacked out by rain clouds.

Jaehara snores contentedly next to you, wrapped up in her mother’s embrace. Helaena’s sleeping form curls into her daughter, holding her in a cocoon of warmth. Mother and daughter look incredibly alike; both share the same nose and soft pout, their fair brows relaxed in sleep. The bassinet next to them holds a sleeping Maelor, his tiny nose scrunched as he dreams.

You sit up from your spot on the floor, looking around the dark room. It’s hard to see anything before the room is illuminated by a flash of lightning. Aemond is no longer beside you. The room descends into darkness once more, and goosebumps rise on your arms as a chill enters the room. Helaena stirs in her sleep, pulling Jaehaera closer. A mother’s unconscious need to keep her daughter close.

Lightning flashes and the room is lit once more, a shadow dancing near the stairs.

“Aemond?” you half whisper, as thunder booms through the sky.

The thunder is not as loud as it was earlier that night; the storm must be moving out. You rise from the floor, letting the blankets fall to a pile at your feet. It’s cold, much colder now that you’re in your sleep shorts and T-shirt. You move toward the staircase, around the corner, and down toward the kitchen. Perhaps he’s making tea.

When you enter the kitchen, it’s empty. No kettle whistling, no lamp, and no Aemond. A noise behind you causes you to turn.

There’s that shadow again.

“Aemond?” you call, louder this time. A small smile appears on your face.

Could he be playing a trick on you? Nervousness stirs in your belly, and you decide to follow, exiting the kitchen. You walk up the stairs, watching as the shadow dips down the left hallway, towards his study.

Warmth floods through you, desire lodging in your stomach. It spreads through your limbs thick like honey, like you’re floating down the hall instead of walking. Your head buzzes, thoughts fuzzy as you reach for the handle of the door, opening it.

Aemond looks up from his papers, a surprised look on his face as you close the door, pressing your back up against it. You’ve never been here before. The room is cozy. Warm. How can it be so warm when the rest of the house is so cold?

“You were gone,” you tell him, though it's phrased more like a question.

“I told you, I’m an insomniac,” he says, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile, “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re away,” you tell him, surprised at the words that leave your mouth, the raw honesty behind them.

Aemond’s lips part, and his lashes flutter at your confession. You walk deeper into the room, letting your hand trail across the spine of the many books that decorate his shelves.

“You’re always away,” you tell him, tingling with anticipation, “I never see you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, as you turn to face him.

“This room,” you muse, “It’s like the heart of the house. Warm…tucked away.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused on your face rather than the generous amount of thigh you’re showing. You glance down at your chest, watching your breasts rise and fall as you breathe then bring your eyes back to him.

You walk towards him, still tracing the spines of the books that line his shelves. Your hand drops as you round the corner of his desk. Aemond has pushed himself from behind his desk, still seated in the large leather chair, his legs spread wide. His lips are parted, watching you in awe.

“I just want you close,” you admit, stepping forward between his legs.

Aemond tenses as you place your knees on either side of his waist and straddle his lap. He groans as you sit, resting your weight against him.

“Y/N….” Aemond says, holding his hands up in surrender; he won’t meet your eyes.

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, lacing your fingers together.

“Don’t you want me?” you whisper, tendrils of your hair tickling his sharp cheekbones.

Aemond looks up then, eyes meeting yours and you watch his resolve crumble. He lowers his hands to your waist, before letting them rest at the junction of your hip and thighs. The air between you is heavy, your ears are ringing as you connect his mouth to yours.

Fire burns brightly in your chest, warming your whole body as he kisses you. He tastes just like you’d dreamed he would; spearmint and tea, and something else that is entirely him. Rolling your hips against him you grind against the hardness forming between his legs. Gods he feels big.

You moan into his mouth, your mind happily buzzing as he squeezes the swell of your ass. His kiss is like a drug, like pure heaven racing through your veins. Your limbs are heavy, thoughts scattered and hazy.

That’s it. “Fuck me,” you whisper, nails digging into his scalp, nipping at his lower lip before sucking it between your own.

It’s bold, it’s lewd.

It’s not you.

Aemond groans, lifting you from his lap as he stands, and places you on his desk. You continue to kiss him, to tear at his button-down like a marionette on a string. Something is wrong. Nothing is wrong, just like that.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathes, and you want to scream, to tell him to wait, not like this.

Not when it's not you. Not when your body is here, but your mind is not. It feels good though, yes? The puppetmaster continues plucking your strings, making you smile coyly at him.

“My Aemond,” you whisper, hands dipping below the waistline of his pants.

Aemond freezes, pulling back from you. You tilt your head to the side as he cups your cheeks, looking deeply into your eyes. His eyes are searching, no longer clouded with lust. Your nails scrape against the smooth flesh of his lower abdomen, legs still locked behind his waist.

“Why’d you stop?” your lips form the words, but it’s not you.

Aemond’s face hardens, and he wets his lips as he releases your face. He brings his hands to your calves, unlocking them from around his waist. Gently, he places his hands on your wrists, removing them from his pants.

“Alys, we’ve talked about this,” he says softly, taking a step back.

Suddenly, the feelings of sleep are greater, and your eyelids are heavy yet they remain open. You’re aware you’re still talking, still moving, but someone else is controlling it. It’s as though you’re hearing the conversation from a different room like you’ve stepped out of yourself for a moment.

Alys. Shhhh. Alys Rivers. It’s alright. Aemond’s….Aemond’s Alys.

“But she’s perfect, Aemond,” your voice says, “And you like her, I know you do. I see the way you look at her. Touch her.”

“Let her go,” he says, voice almost a whisper, “Alys….please.”

She reaches for him, using your arms. It’s like you’re moving through molasses, though you can sense her desperation, her need for him.

“We can have a baby now,” she insists, your voice breaking as she speaks, “One of our very own.”

“You have little Jaehaera-”

“I want my own, Aemond, you promised me!”

“That was before, Alys. Now you’re…” he lets the sentence trail off, “Things are different now.”

She brings your hand to cup your breast, and you watch Aemond’s eye flicker toward the movement.

“She’s perfect,” she tells him, “And she’s so sweet, so wet for you, my love. You should feel how much she wants you.”

“Stop,” Aemond says, clenching his hands into fists.

“She aches for you. Not just physically,” Alys insists, “I can feel it all, here in her head.”

“I said enough!” Aemond yells, followed by a clap of thunder.

Alys doesn’t flinch, you can feel her unyielding strength inside of you. She tilts your chin higher, hand dropping from your breast.

“She’s different than the other one,” Alys insists, “You didn’t even like that girl-”

“You’d no right to do that to Floris,” Aemond says, running a hand through his hair, “She was a sweet girl--”

“Sweet,” Alys scoffs, “Weak. You’ve gone soft, haven’t you?” She cocks your head to the side. “Do you not love me anymore?” she asks, her voice cold as ice.

“You know that isn’t true--”

“I don’t mind sharing--”

“You’re dead, Alys.”

She’s silent then, and your chest tightens with the agony she feels at his words. Aemond’s gaze is pained, his seeing-eye glassy with tears.

“Release her-”

“I miss you,” she says, reaching for him, “That’s all. Is that so hard to believe?” She chuckles bitterly. “I just want our baby.”

“It’s not how it is supposed to be, Alys,” he says, taking the hand she offers, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re always sorry,” she says, her voice trembling, “Just give me what I want.”

“I can’t do that,” Aemond says, “Let her go.”

Alys holds his hand a moment more. You feel a tear roll down your cheek leaving a hot stream behind. Then your limbs go rigid before all the tension in your body releases. Your head drops forward, limbs sagging into Aemond’s arms.

“It’s alright,” he says, lifting you into his arms bridal style, “I’ve got you.”

The feeling of sleep is different now; you’re groggy as though you’d just woken from a nap. Leaning into his chest, you press your face against his shoulder. Spearmint, aftershave, and tea. He smells so good. Your eyelids are heavy as he walks down the hallway. You can’t hear the rain anymore. Has it stopped?

“Aem-”

“Shh don’t speak,” he says, placing you in bed.

You’re in your room. Here already? That was fast.

“What happened?” you ask, throat raw, mouth dry.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, laying his hand against your forehead.

You welcome the heat. You’re so cold.

“The heart….” you murmur.

“What?”

“The heart of the house,” you mumble, “It’s cold…”

Aemond pulls your blankets around you, tucking you in tightly sitting beside you on the bed.

“What was that?” you ask, as Aemond’s hand strokes your cheek.

“It was just Alys,” he assures you.

You sit up then, the sleepiness leaving your body rather quickly as though someone had poured ice water down your back. The sheets fall around your waist and Aemond sighs disapprovingly as your eyebrows knit together. His hand falls from your cheek, resting on your bent leg.

“Alys,” you repeat, “Your wife.”

“Yes.”

“She made me….” your cheeks warm, “Did…did we…?”

“No,” Aemond assures, shaking his head, “No we only kissed.”

You can feel him still, the ache returning between your thighs. His violet eye watches you closely as does the sightless milky one. He’s reading every microexpression on your face like the pages of a book.

“I’m sorry-”

“Whatever are you sorry for, dōna hāedar?” he says, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“That we…that when we kissed…” you murmur, looking down, cheeks blazing with embarrassment, “That it….that it wasn’t me.”

Aemond rubs circles on your knee, watching the movement. The room is silent for a moment apart from your steady breathing. There is an ache between your eyes, deep in your skull that you’ll no doubt need to sleep off.

“We should rectify that,” Aemond says softly, “If you’d like.”

Your lips part as you meet his eyes again. He’s watching you so carefully, as though you may run from the grounds at any moment never to be seen again.

But you’d made your choice. And you intended to stick to it.

“Yes,” you breathe, leaning forward, “I’d like to.”

“Then it’s settled,” he murmurs, leaning forward. Your eyes flutter shut as his nose bumps against yours causing you to gasp softly, lips parting even more, “It’s only right.”

You can feel his lips against yours as he speaks; just brushing slightly.

“I agree,” you say breathlessly, and he closes the gap, pressing his lips firmly against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck.

Your hand fists his shirt as you kiss him, his mouth hot and greedy against yours. His lips, his perfect lips fit against yours so perfectly, and he turns his head slipping his tongue into your waiting mouth.

Gods you want him. You want him so badly you’re trembling with need. Aemond leans forward then, pressing you back against the bed, kissing you all the while. Your hands claw at him until his hands lace through yours, pressing them back against the mattress. He murmurs your name, lips trailing down the side of your throat. Yes, yes, yes.

“Aemond!” you gasp, pushing at him suddenly.

He tears his lips from yours, standing immediately as you gasp for breath. The pair of you stare at each other wide-eyed, trying to catch your bearings.

“She’s here,” Aemond says, voice hoarse.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “It felt like she may…come back.”

“Fuck,” Aemond growls, “Fuck!”

You wet your lips, wanting nothing more than to hold him. Aemond leans against the bedpost, lost in thought.

“We have to be careful,” he says, “On the grounds. She’ll try…she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” You can hear the love he holds for her in his voice, even now. “She just wanted a baby.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, “We’ll be careful. We won’t….” your sentence trails off.

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, “Not long now. The house will go quickly once it’s on the market. Summerhal house is waiting for us.”

You force a small smile.

“No ghosts?” you ask.

Aemond’s returning smile mirrors your own.

“No promises,” he says softly, “Get some sleep.”

“What about Helaena? And the children…”

“I’ll go to them,” he says, walking forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “You rest.”

“Goodnight Aemond,” you call as he exits your room.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, the door clicking shut behind him.

You lay on the bed, your body trembling. The rain begins once more, the sound of thunder returning. It may be the rain, you’re not sure, but as you drift off to sleep you swear you hear the soft sounds of a woman crying somewhere in Harrenhal.

note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them).

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