#aemond targaryen x desi!reader

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen (Part 4)

Aemond Targaryen x Desi!Reader

Summary: Following your conversation with Alicent, the Dowager Queen comes up with an idea. You celebrate Baisakhi with the Prince and his mother, but he never speaks.

Word Count: 1.6k

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“Aemond,” His mother called, her big brown eyes floating with anticipation. Her voice was confident as usual, but it held some hesitance. They had been invited to the Bharatiya camp establishment to celebrate one of their major festivals: the festival to celebrate the winter harvest. Did she not want to go?

“Yes, Mother?” Aemond replied, softening his gaze to look at her, hoping that it would help her get over the hesitance. He loved his mother dearly and would do anything to keep her happy and respected. If something made her uncomfortable, he would sort it out.

“I spoke with Princess Y/N yesterday,” She started, fidgeting with her fingers, an action not going unnoticed by her second son. “She certainly has eloquence,”

“I do think she is clever,” He agreed, seeing Alicent lose some of the tension, exhaling.

“And I have noticed you spending a better part of your days in the Bharatiya camp,” Alicent said, a suggestive smile on her face, as her brown eyes gleamed. “Has the princess piqued your interest, my child?”

“I was merely trying to understand her motive, Mother,” Aemond said, unable to fight the heat rising up his neck and ears. “Testing the waters, as they say.”

“And what did your observation conclude, my dear?” She asked, genuinely curious about his thoughts. He knew that she valued his opinions, so he didn’t hold back.

“An alliance with them will help us substantially.” He replied, leaving out the spies' words. “The people already claim Aegon as their rightful king, and with Bharat by our side we could become unstoppable. They have technology never before seen in Westeros or Essos, and some of their weapons can cleanly cut through rock.”

“Do you respect Princess Y/N?” Alicent asked, the question turning the atmosphere sombre. The corners of her eyes were filled with tears she didn’t let spill. “Can you learn to care about her?”

“I do respect the Princess, Mother.” He truthfully admitted. “I think I can learn to care, even if I don’t - I would never humiliate her.” I wouldn’t treat her like King Viserys treated you. I would fulfil my duty.

“Very well then,” Alicent said. “I think it would be ideal if I offered her your hand in marriage. Would you accept that, Aemond?”

“I am not against it,” Aemond responded, thinking back to Haelena’s prophecy. He understood that you were of significant importance in his sister’s dreams, uncertain of how this was related. “But I do have a question for you, mother. Why would you say this now?”

“Y/N said that her alliance was with Aegon, and not Westeros.” She answered. “And Haelena liked spending time with her, that would seem she is non-threatening - at least to us. Now, if you don’t have any other suitors in mind, I would like to proceed with the proposition. Okay?”

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It was the day of Baisakhi, and your whole camp was celebrating. Bands performed, people danced with their agriculture tools to celebrate the harvest back home. Prince Aemond, Dowager Queen Alicent and her shield, Ser Criston Cole, had graced the festivities with their presence, Alicent being the only one to show enjoyment. And though Prince Aemond held his usual cold face, you could see his one eye open wide, drinking in all the information that he could. A ghost of a smirk had dusted his sharp face, which you felt was equivalent to hysteria coming from him.

Alicent stood up and clapped, enjoying the performances. “Such charming festivities,” she commented. “I am grateful that you let us be a part of this, Princess.” 

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Your Highness.” You replied. Alicent was dressed in a beautiful green gown seemingly made from the silk you had presented her, and it warmed your heart to see her adorning the fabric so gracefully. Aemond had the wootz blade strapped to his hip, along with the dagger you had presented to him. It brought you joy to see him utilising your presents, and he had dressed in a dark green instead of black for a change. 

“I would appreciate it if you would accept our presents,” Alicent softly said, holding your arm. “It might not be as thoughtful as your presents to us, but I do hope that you would like it.”

She handed you a rectangular jewellery box, and you began to thank her, as you accepted the present. You could feel the burn of Aemond’s gaze as you opened the box to reveal a gold necklace with a big sapphire embedded in the central pendant, and smaller ruby pieces embedded in the others. This was a piece unlike any you had seen before - a true Westerosi fashion.

“I have never seen anything like this before, Your Highness.” You truthfully said. “It is magnificent.”

“It is only a small present,” Alicent said. “I would like to speak to you later and alone, Your Highness, once the festivities are over.”

You agreed, the back of your mind thinking of the possible reasons as to why she wanted to speak with you alone, as you kept your eyes on the celebrations. Lassi and buttermilk was offered to you and your esteemed guests as you rose to thank the Devtas for the good harvest back home and the blooming trade in Westeros. Your people recited the prayers after you and then the whole crowd burst into dancing and singing - some of them off key albeit filled with joy.

“Being here makes me forget my woes,” Alicent sighed. “Your people seem closely knit, Princess Y/N.”

“I can’t say for the entirety of Bharat, but this group is certainly close.” You said. “We spent a month journeying the sea to travel to an unknown land, that type of uncertainty and fear makes friends out of foes - and these people were already acquaintances, your highness.”

“Of course,” She politely nodded. “I would love to mingle with this crowd, Princess - with your permission, of course.”

“We can mingle,” You said, smiling at her. “You wanted to speak with me?”

You were now in your ‘home’ sitting in front of the Dowager Queen Alicent, intently taking in her impeccable appearance. Her mane of brown hair had been pinned back, and her fingers interlaced as her hands sat on her knee. 

She was silent for a long moment, gathering her thoughts before speaking up, “You said you were loyal to my son, the King.” Alicent lifted her gaze, her big brown eyes keen. “While I do trust your word - I would appreciate it if the alliance had a… pact,”

“Are you hinting at marriage, my Queen?” you prompted.

“Precisely.” She said, still as a statue. “I would love it if you agree to marry my second son, Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

“Well…” You said, rubbing your palms together. “I can’t promise anything until my parents agree. And Bharat is far away.”

“We have dragons, Princess Y/N,” Alicent had now perked up, eyes gleaming with hope. “I suppose the journey that took your ship a month on the sea would barely take a week on a dragon.”

“A week of continuous flight on a dragon's back seems a bit… irrational, your Highness.” you said. “We didn’t encounter any landmass on our way here, except a massive desert, full of hostile tribes.”

“Such a hasty wedding would not be deemed acceptable in Bharat, your Highness.” you explained. “We have very… elaborate weddings. They would only agree to…” you trailed off, thinking of the english word for roka. “I am unable to recall the exact term that you use, but it’s when you have been promised to someone but you are not married yet. We call it roka in hindi. It’s the first of many wedding ceremonies.”

“Betrothal,” Alicent supplied. “That would be great too, your Highness. As for the travel, I am sure my son Aemond would be able to plan everything.”

“I shall go with him,” You said. “There is no saying that my soldiers wouldn’t shoot a foreign dragon. And I have heard that Vhagar is the biggest dragon there is.”

“That would be apt, your Highness.” Alicent agreed. Her gaze softened and she leaned closer, “Would you be able to care for my son? Can you respect him?”

“He is a great fighter and a clever man,” You said. “How can I not respect him? As for caring about him, I care for my family even though I hate some of them… and Prince Aemond has not done anything to get such vile emotions from me.” you explained, sighing. “I think I can care for him, even if he is not my husband, I will care for him as the King’s brother, his right hand man.”

“You have a gentle heart, My Lady.” Alicent said. “None have been able to speak such kind words for my son - they can’t look past his missing eye.”

“I think it adds to his charm,” you simply said, as if stating a fact.

“You are too kind,” She repeated, holding your arm. “I do hope you will be able to join us for the feast tonight. I would like you to get acquainted with Aemond before you make your decisions.”

“I will be there,” you promised.

Your words seemingly lifted a heavy weight off her shoulders, how she had lost like five years as she eased her tense muscles. Your mind was clouded with thoughts as you absently twirled a strand of dark hair in your finger. What would a marriage with the Targaryen Prince be like? He didn’t speak much, and he was hard to read; did he hide some dark secrets? And why had this marriage proposal been ensued now? Had something changed between the night and this morning?

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Tags: (i was so tired last night, so I forgot the tags oof)

@km-ffluv @stargaryenxnx

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen, Part 6

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Aemond learns to speak Hindi, and that you have been hiding a lot more than you had let on.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Not proofread. Also this might be the last chapter in a few days because I have finals :( and i probably wouldn't be able to update. Also I don't really like how this turned out, but I'll let you know if I ever redo this.

Series Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

You had spent the better part of the week trying to teach Aemond Hindi. He had picked it up surprisingly fast with all the time he had spent in your camps - something that made you respect him even more. But his understanding of Hindi was not a problem - the problem was that his accent was too thick. It became easier to interpret the more he spoke, and he didn’t have much time to master it either. And you had barely any time to teach him the proper writing. The young man could barely even read hindi, the script totally unfamiliar to him. 

Now it was time to go talk with your father, the emperor. Alicent had been persistent, and honestly you couldn’t blame her. In this game of thrones, anything left to probability could mean major losses and/or death. It was a dangerous gamble that she played, sending her second son away; what if you were sided with the Blacks and were plotting to kill him? That would mean the loss of one of the best fighters on the Greens, something they could not take.

You looked at the young man sitting in front of you, nose stuck in the small leather bound book you had gifted him for his reading. He was in his signature black leather tunic, one leg crossed over the other on the armchair by the fireplace in the castle’s isolated library. You were dressed in a light green chikankari kurti feeling relaxed as you watched Aemond’s sharp face: he was a great fighter, and in a fair battle it would be a good challenge to subdue him, but you had no intentions of it, for he hadn’t given you a reason to yet.

“This is a legend or is it history?” Aemond asked.

“Which one are you reading?”

“The one with Bhagwan Ram went hunting Maareech,” He said.

“It depends on your belief,” You said, shrugging. “There is some evidence of the events being true, and I, for one, believe that it's based on true events, but with modification as the ages come to pass.”

“Hmm,” He acknowledged, then returned to burying his nose in the little book. You hadn’t told him yet, but you had written the pages yourself in two days and had the parchment bound by one of your best book-makers available.

While he practised Hindi, you went to explore the seemingly abandoned library. The front parts of the library seemed frequented, it was clean and arranged in order by subject. Tales of Old Valyria, How Aegon the Conqueror won Westeros, the Social Order, An Expansive History of Westeros and Essos, Maegor Targaryen: The Cruel, The Mystery of Life and Death, Aegon and Conqueror and His Sister-Wives, The Old Gods, The New Gods, Dragons: From Hatchling to Fighter…

There were many, many more. But these were the books with the most worn spines. As you further wandered into the library, you saw many old texts - some in High Valyrian, others in English. 

As you wandered, you reached a much secluded, dust covered corner of the library, your eyes wandered as you scanned the books. Liberation, one of the titles said. Curious, you touched the dusty spine of the book and pulled it out, the soft leather creased at the bottom. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in ages. 

You turned over the delicate pages, trying not to damage the old book, when you saw a mildly scandalising image drawn on the margin. It was the drawing of a beautiful naked woman, her face contorted in pleasure and her hand touching herself. You skimmed over the page, the crass descriptions of the pleasures of the flesh filled your mind. Your body heated up at your scandalous discovery, and a loud sneeze escaped you as the dust particles tickled your nose.

You skimmed over the other pages, finding far more detailed explanations of the sex acts - involving vivid descriptions of the female and the male body parts that left nothing to the imagination. The use of the mouth, the hands, and pleasure points other than the genitalia - everything was there. This chapter held the crass use of the tongue as a muscle to pleasure your partner-

The sound of your name on Aemond’s mouth snapped you out of the reverie - and every cell in your body seemed to be set on fire. You looked up at him, snapping the book shut, and sneezing once again as the dust bothered your nose.

Aemond studied you with his one eye, waiting for you to say something. You cleared your throat, trying to find the words to describe your discovery without crossing any etiquette lines, but you were unsuccessful. You had words to describe different ways to kill a man but no words for the carnal acts.

“You look like you’ve been caught doing something morbid,” He finally said at your flushed state.

“I am scandalised,” You said, clearing your throat once again. “This is…” you just handed him the book, gauging his reaction. His eyebrow furrowed as he scanned the pages quickly, a tinge of crimson appearing on the sharp planes of his face as realisation dawned on him. He too cleared his throat then put the book away.

“Let’s not dwell on it,” He said, avoiding your gaze the entire time.

“Tell me, my Prince,” you started. “How long will it take your Vhagar to fly to the green island of Essos?”

“Might take two and ten hours or so of flight,” he said, pale cheeks still tinged pink.

“Do you trust Vhagar to follow you if we were to dismount her?” You asked, forcing the embarrassment out of your nerves.

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Early next morning you said see you later to your people, left Raman in-charge during your absence, hugged Alicent, then mounted Vhagar with Aemond’s help and flew into the cool morning air with your potential husband.

Last evening, Aemond had taken you to meet Vhagar - given that the old beast didn’t attack you, you were content - and now she let you ride her, and for that you kept silently thanking her, scratching her scales that you could reach from the saddle. Your front was pressed into Aemond’s back - you were a little surprised on feeling his firm muscles. As you got used to the cold air slapping your face, you eased into it, sighing as you extended your arms and pretended to fly.

“This is so fun!” You screamed over the wind howling in your ears.

“I know!” Aemond yelled, sound the happiest that you had ever heard him.

After a while your arms tired and you got cold, the fog dampening your leather riding clothes. You rubbed your hands together in the little space between your chest and Aemond’s back, your teeth chattering.

“Are you cold, my princess?” He asked, having to scream to be heard over the wind.

“Only a little,” you managed to say, unsure of how much he heard with the howling wind and the chattering of your teeth.

“Hold on to me,” Aemond said after a moment. “It’ll give you warmth,”

You hesitated for a moment, the need for warmth overpowering the desire to maintain proper etiquette. Even with the cold, he was still warm and you supposed, the blood of the dragon is hot. With your cheek pressed against his shoulder and the smell of leather, parchment and smoke taking over you as you felt the firm muscles of his stomach, your body warmed for a different reason altogether.

Now, the sun was dipping in the horizon as you spotted your destination for the night. Aemond commanded Vhagar to land on the easternmost coast and she followed. You stretched out your tight limbs and went to relieve yourself as Aemond made sure that Vhagar was fed and comfortable. When you returned, you thanked Vhagar and scratched lightly at her massive head, and the she-beast purred, shaking the ground below you.

You and Aemond quickly made camp in a makeshift tent using the thin leather and cotton canvas you had brought along with you. You fell asleep beside Vhagar’s protection and Aemond’s warm back against yours, exhausted from the day of flying. Tomorrow morning, you would show him what it was like to ride a foreign beast, eager to get back your vritra, Mansha. You should tell Aemond beforehand about your three-headed friend, lest it scares him away.

When Aemond woke up the next morning, he missed your absence. You were knee deep in water, the two pointer fingers held up to your mouth and you whistled, the sound loud and piercing to his ears. Vhagar’s massive body rumbled at the disturbance, shaking the ground below him.

His scar itches, and he wants to take off his eye-patch, but he stops himself. He wasn’t ready for that just yet. Before he could raise his hands to scratch the itch, a massive form arose from the water. Aemond’s eye widens as three massive sea serpents come out of the water, closer to where you are standing, a crazed grin on your face. He hears you cackle like a maniac as the three serpents lurch toward you and the scream is more instinct than thought reaction.

Vhagar rises from her slumber, fangs bared and yellow eyes wide open as she sees the serpents, rises and snaps her jaw. The three serpents hiss back in return, their long forked tongues straight out of nightmares. He yells your name, demanding that you get back to safety, behind Vhagar, that he can deal with those serpents himself, when the sight before him stuns him to stillness.

“Mansha,” You call, your tone chiding. “They are friends,” you say in hindi, and he thinks you sound so different than when you speak in english. It rolls off your tongue easily, and he had spent hours thinking about your voice over and over.

“Vhagar, lykiri,” Aemond said, stroking her side. Sensing his confusion, she closes her jaw, but her yellow eyes are deeply focused on the three serpents.

“Mansha,” you call once again, and the three serpents snap their heads towards you, suddenly calm and inching closer. “I know, I missed you too,” you speak in hindi once again. As the three serpents rise out of the water, Aemond is stunned to see that it was in fact one snake, but with three heads. Its scales are pastel - light blue, mixing into green, mixing into purple. The serpent is large: each long head wide enough to be Vhagar’s tail, and he estimates it to be about thirty feet long.

Its beauty is terrifying, he thinks, much like yourself.

“Aemond,” you call, and his heart softens a little when he hears the sound of his name on your tongue, absent of any titles. He’s still wary of the serpent though. “Meet my vritra, her name is Mansha.” you said in english. “Mansha, meet Aemond and Vhagar, they are our friends.” you add in Hindi. One head is fixed on you, another is fixated on him, and the third one eyes Vhagar. The three heads have different eyes: the one on you is red, the one on him is yellow, and the one on Vhagar is black.

“What is vritra?” Aemond asked.

“Vritras are beasts, demons of the sea.” You explained with a smile on your face. “You have dragons, we have sea serpents.”

“This is the similarity you mentioned the other night,” He recalled.

“Indeed,” You said. “All of the descendants of the first emperor are free to claim their vritra once they turn twelve. I happened to claim the fastest and the most vicious of them all, the only one with three heads. Isn’t she beautiful?” you cooed at Mansha.

“She is lovely,” Aemond tried to speak in Hindi, and you flash him a proud smile at his correct pronunciations. “Now what?”

“Now we both go to my queendom, Kalinga, and we invite my father.” You said.

“What do you mean by your queendom?” Aemond asked. He knew it, deep in his gut, that you were more powerful than you had let on, but this was shocking. Apparently today was the day that the ever-observant Aemond would be left stupefied.

“My father is the emperor of Bharat.” You said. “Kalinga is the east-coast province, and I am the Queen of Kalinga.”

 “Well then, I must apologise for addressing you wrongly this whole time, My Queen.” He said, bowing. “Or would you prefer Your Grace?”

“I like the sound of My Queen,” you said, giving him a shy smile, as if you weren’t just cooing at a serpent who could kill anyone in three ways. “My prince,”

“And how exactly do we reach Kalinga?” He asked, already dreading the answer.

“We ride Mansha,” you said, the maniacal gleam returning to your face.

“And what of Vhagar?” Aemond asked, piecing together little bits of your earlier conversations.

“Vhagar follows us.” You said. “She can only rest on the coast, I don’t think I have clearings big enough to keep her.”

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Reluctantly, Aemond throws one leg over Mansha’s thick body and sits behind you, hands slipping on the serpent’s beautiful scales. The salt water was irritating his scar, and wanted nothing more than to rip the patch off. And he did. He didn’t let you see that, but he removed his eye patch and instead gathered his silver hair in the leather, tightening the strap.

“Ready?” You asked, voice cheery. He wondered if he sounded like that whenever he got to ride Vhagar.

“Yeah,” Aemond said, swallowing his fears.

“Hold on to me.” You said, voice heavy with warning. “Tightly.”

His stomach dropped as the serpent slithered into the water, barely keeping you above the surface. He was terrified, but the adrenaline was welcome, and he forced his eye to stay open and take in the massive ocean, deadly as it was beautiful. 

In some ways, it wasn’t too different from riding Vhagar, but it just didn’t give him the same thrill. You, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying yourself. Too much. But to your credit, the serpent was faster than any beast he had ever ridden, and it seemed to have covered the intimidating expanse of the ocean in just over an hour.

Just as you neared the coast and Mansha slowed down, he took the liberty of letting go of your warm body and undid his hair, placing the eyepatch back in its original place, covering his sapphire. 

Mansha had dropped you at a beautiful coast with golden sand and the warm sun shining, the warmth welcome after the ocean. 

“Mansha, go and make sure Vhagar doesn’t get lost,” you said, patting the beast’s middle head. “Bring her here, okay?”

“Welcome to Kalinga, my Prince Aemond,” you said, smiling. “I hope I will be a good host to you as you have been to me.”

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Tags:

@km-ffluv @stargaryenx @thenovelcarnival @afro-hispwriter @mynameisbaby9 @depressedperson88

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen, Part 5

Aemond Targaryen x Desi!Reader

Summary: Alicent had invited you the feast to get to know Aemond better, and you properly spoke with the Prince for the first time.

Alternatively, Aemond finds you full of surprises.

Word Count: 2.5k

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You had found yourself dressed in an elaborate Westerosi gown, the red silk soft against your skin. The corset they had put you in was… strange, having your chest and waist squeezed into place. As for the hair,  your handmaiden, Kavita, had delicately fastened your gold tiara with a complex braid and the rest of your dark hair flowing. You felt like a bride, dressed in such fine red, for red is the colour of brides and married women in your culture.

“You will be the true beauty amongst these people, rajkumari,” Kavita said, her coppery complexion gleaming in the afternoon sun. “I am certain they’d have never seen a woman as exquisite as you,” 

“I hope your words are true,” You sighed. Always being one to dress for yourself, it would be perhaps the first time you had dressed to impress. You had an audience to present yourself to - your nation’s reputation rested on your shoulders. You reminded yourself of their mannerisms and food styles, when to start eating and how to speak in their tongue. With your luck, this would be the time you’d forget all english and sit there making a fool of yourself.

“The carriage is here for you, rajkumari,” Your personal guard, Raman, said. He was a big man - tall and built of strong muscles. “The One-Eyed Prince is here for you.”

“Oh,” you said. Oh no, what am I supposed to do? I don’t think I can do this. “Tell him that I’ll be out in a few moments.”

You stood up, examining your appearance once again in the large mirror, twirling around. The boned corset was a bit uncomfortable, and the multiple layers of skirts you had put on before the bright red skirt and the bodice. The mass of this gown could rival your lehengas for your elder brother’s wedding.

Finally exhaling your nerves, you smiled at Kavita before you stepped out of your room. Your lovely handmaiden followed you, ensuring that your dress and hair remained intact, at least until you reached the carriage.

Aemond’s presence was like that of a phantom. You sensed his presence before you saw him - there was a buzz in your nerves and your heart pounded erratically at his burning gaze. And you knew, even though he was missing an eye, he saw more than everyone else. He was power, materialised. People rose from their seats or thrummed in their place, but he brought motion in everyone: they respected him and feared him - and you weren’t so different.

His powerful gaze seemed to burn your skin through the heavy gown, but you held your chin high, meeting his void gaze. You wanted to learn his art of masking his emotions well, because you weren’t too sure of your brows - they always gave you away.  

The afternoon sun reflected the planes of his face, making it appear sharper than it was. His silver hair was impeccable as usual, and his leather eyepatch added to his odd charm. Adorning a long black coat over his usual black tunic, he looked much like the apparition of death as these people claimed. But Prince Aemond was ethereal to look at. And even if your parents denied the marriage proposal, you could pretend to be his for one evening.

“Princess Y/N,” He bowed, offering you his hand. His long, thin fingers shone with a wicked promise. He had the hands of an experienced blade yielder. 

“Prince Aemond,” You curtseyed, placing your hand in his. He was surprisingly warm. Blood of the dragon had fire. A small gasp left your mouth when he gently kissed your hand, his soft lips leaving goosebumps in their wake. Even Kavita had her brows raised in shock, while Raman’s hand instantly grabbed his sword. You quickly collected yourself and motioned him to loosen up.

“I have come to take you to the Feast.” Aemond declared, his voice smooth like ghee. He hadn’t yet let go of your hand. “Your guard may accompany us on a horse. Arrangements have been made for your stay in the Red Keep, Your Highness.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, my Prince.” You said, smiling. He opened the carriage door and helped you up, Kavita assisting with the multiple skirts. The coachman closed the door, and you waved “see you later” at Kavita. 

“You look especially lovely this evening,” Aemond commented, once you were both in the privacy of the carriage. “The Westorsi clothing becomes you.”

“Thank you, my Prince.” You chuckled, heat rising up your cheeks. “It is good to know that my lovely handmaid's efforts have paid off.” Giving him a clear once over from the tip of his boots to the silky hair, you said with a shy smile, “And you look quite handsome.” Ethereal. Fallen from the Heavens.

The shadows through the windows cast a woeful charm on his beautiful face. “You mustn’t lie for my sake.” he said, looking down.

“I think you are too harsh on yourself.” You said.

“And I think you are too kind to me.” He softly muttered, looking up, straight into your soul. A shiver rose from the tip of your toes, but you forced it to stop. “The Red Keep is still far away,” he said.

“And I want to know what a prince of Westeros does to pass time,” you asked, holding his piercing gaze with equal fire. If he was trying to intimidate you, you were going to intimidate him just as fiercely. “With everyone at your command, I don’t think you need to work a day in your life.”

“Well, I like to train with the blade,” He said, raising his good brow. “And I like to read.”

“A well-read swordsman?” You prompted, smirking slightly. Aemond’s tense shoulders and eyebrow relaxed, subtly, but you had been staring too intently. His being consumed the entirety of your focus. “We seem to be more similar than I initially thought.”

“What similarity did you think we had, my Princess?” He asked, curious. 

“You’ll find out,” You said, smiling sweetly. The more you spoke, the more confident you felt. “Eventually.”

“You are a dangerous woman,” He concluded, his lilac eye gleaming with something darker and deadlier than interest.

“And you are a dangerous man.” You stated, holding his steady gaze.

A spark had ignited in the carriage as the both of you fell silent, speaking without words with the setting sun and the cabin of the carriage as your audience.  

Only when the coachman stopped at the entry to the Red Keep did Aemond finally look away, even then the bastard had a slight smirk on his face. He didn’t look at you, the absence of his lilac gaze leaving you with a strange chill. As the carriage came to a stop in front of the castle’s entrance, a servant opened the door and Aemond stepped out, holding his hand out to you. 

The strange spark dancing between the two leaves as you exit the carriage, masks sliding back into place. 

The touch of his large, calloused hand against your smaller one brought you much needed assurance as you stood upright, smoothing out your dress.

Aemond offers you his elbow, and you place your hand delicately on this long black coat, able to feel the warmth of his taut muscles. It was selfishly comforting to know that he was just as tense as you were. Your little mistakes would be easily forgiven.

The boisterous talking and music could be heard outside of the hall. King Aegon and his Queen Haelena were already there, and the lords and the ladies didn’t shy away from impressing themselves. The guards opened the gates on spotting Aemond, and the crowd fell silent as he entered with the beautiful woman in red.

All the eyes were focused on you, and the only thing you could feel was judgement and condescension from your observers. But you didn’t look at them, opting to look straight ahead at the Queen and her mother. You briefly let go of Aemond’s elbow as you curtseyed and he bowed.

“Welcome to the feast, Princess Y/N,” King Aegon said, smirking as he raised his glass. “Do take a seat, and let us entertain you.”

Two spots had been left empty at the table beside Haelena. Aemond pulled a chair out for you and then sat himself between you and his sister.

“You look lovely, the colour red becomes you,” Haelena commented. “I wished I could accompany Aemond and Mother to your festivities, but I had to take Dreamfyre out for her long flight, she was getting irksome.”

“No worries, Your Grace.” you said, smiling. “You can join us for other festivities.”

“I surely will, Mother said it was a lot of fun!” She laughed, and it was the purest sound ever. “When do you have your next festival?”

“In two months time,” you said. “Our next big festival will be Rath Yatra.”

Aemond is sat between the two of you, eye going back and forth as you speak. You explain to them the significance of the festival and how Lord Jagannath and his siblings go to their “holiday home” for about 20 days and the loud celebrations of that day. You didn’t have the temple privileges of Bharat here, but your craftsmen had made little statues of Lord Jagannath and his two siblings.

“You have a very different faith than ours.” Aemond noted. He had a slight smile on his face from hearing you talk so joyously: your cheeks were flushed with merry excitement as the food was served and the wine started to pour. The orchestra started to play upbeat music, and the conversations faded into the background. 

The former Queen’s three children presently mingled with the crowd, greeting the noble lords and ladies of their land, assessing the traitors and the faithful. While the Dowager Queen Alicent was sitting beside you, admiring your appearance.

“You are the prettiest in this gown!” She said, making heat flush your cheeks. Perhaps it was the wine, but it made you a bit more prone to blushing.

“You look beautiful as always,” You loudly spoke over the music. She was dressed in a different green gown than the morning, looking no less stunning. “Green is your colour!”

“Thank you, my dear.” She said, eyes crinkling with a smile. 

You had developed an ability of sensing his presence before he came into your vision, holding a rare, shy smile on his ethereal face. Aemond’s lilac eye gleamed with interest and you didn’t notice people going to the dance floor, your entire attention again captured by this enigmatic phantom of a prince. You felt yourself smiling at his presence, and asked, “What brings you here, my Prince?”

“May I have your first dance of the night, my Princess?” Aemond asked, bowing with his hand extended to you.

“But I don’t know this dance form,” you said, panic settling in your bones. This is how I am going to make a fool of myself aren’t I?

“I will lead you,” He promised. “You won’t fall.”

“Alright then,” you said, accepting his extended hand. He was just so warm.

Aemond’s walk was confident as he led you to the dance floor, but you had never felt so timid in your life as you did now. You quickly observed all the other pairs dancing on the floor, and their impeccable postures and how they moved gracefully with the music.

“Place your hand on my shoulder, like this,” He took your free hand and gently planted it on his shoulder. And all you could think was he had firm muscles disguised by his lean body. “And I place my hand on your waist.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, looking at his face. He was slightly flustered himself, so at odds with the stoic image of him that you had gotten used to in the few weeks he had spent visiting your camp. “You’re not used to this, are you?”

“Hmm?” Aemond asked. “Not really no, I have danced with my mother though.”

“Aren’t you just the sweetest,” You said, grinning cheekily.

“It’s not sweet, actually.” He sighed. “The ladies of the court are repulsed by me.”

“As a lady of another court, I’d like to disagree.” You boldly said, leaving him utterly speechless. His lilac eye was wide and almost searching for lies in yours, you firmly held his gaze as he wordlessly guided you through the motions of the dance. After fumbling your steps awfully for a few moments, you got the hang of it, passing decent levels. It all came down to the fact that the more you did something, the more confident you got.

It was now Aemond’s turn to be timid and shy. He avoided your gaze persistently, managing to look shy, solemn and disinterested all at the same time. If it weren’t for the pink tinge on his cheeks, you’d think he was bored.

“You never did tell me what you like to read,” you asked as a motion led you close to him. He was fairly tall, and you had to look up at him to see his face, but you were glad you did because you could clearly see the slight curve of his lips as he smiled.

“I like reading the history of Westeros and Old Valyria,” he said. “And I love philosophy, the questions of our existence and the purpose of it. Though, I am also fond of strategies and a mild sprinkle of fiction.”

You couldn’t stop the grin on your face at his response, eyes twinkling with excitement. “You were destined to be my friend, Aemond Targaryen,” you said. “Although I do prefer reading science over philosophy, I cannot deny that the subject piques my interest. Oftentimes I wonder why, but I don’t bother to search answers,” 

“Maybe that’s something I can assist you with, Y/N L/N,” he said.

You learnt an interesting bit about him, conversations with him had to be initiated for this was a man who had lived in shadows away from the attention of the crows and didn’t need to speak much. His terrifying reputation and intimidating presence did it for him - how he was a phantom and a physical force, you did not know. You only knew that his silent presence allured you as much as it terrified the others.

And you weren’t certain if that was a good thing. 

The thing about crowds is that they jump to conclusions based on the perspective of a few. Nothing the folks had told you about the prince had come to be true - but there hadn’t been much to say either way. He was a quiet man, but a fierce presence - rider of the largest dragon in the world and a great combatant. 

But he was also a timid young man afraid to scare the ladies, someone who needed a push to start talking. You didn’t think he was capable of speaking so many words before this evening, but even so his eye spoke a thousand words more than his lips ever did. Understanding this man was more about picking up on the silent hints than waiting for his words. This might mean trouble.

Yet, you thought of the deep respect he held for his mother, the duty he felt for his family - always cleaning up his brother’s messes, you had gathered.

Perhaps it was this duty that he felt that made you believe that your father wouldn’t refuse the offer right away.

.

.

.

tags:

@km-ffluv @stargaryenx @thenovelcarnival @afro-hispwriter @mynameisbaby9

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen, Part 7 (Aemond Targaryen x Desi!Reader)

Summary: Aemond is entranced by your castle and intrigued by your court, hearing things about you that he finds hard to believe.

Word Count: 2.2K

Series Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

Aemond was at a loss of words at the sights of your majestic castle - it was bright and full of windows that held natural illumination. He supposed you could do it - for Kalinga was far warmer than King’s Landing and had the breeze of the ocean. The outside walls were painted in a blinding white with golden rounded tops at the towers. It was only three stories high, but the walls were so tall he could barely make out the ceiling. His only eye pained the harder he focused.

Inside, the walls were so colourful it was a feast to his vision after the dark, dull stone walls of the Red Keep. You had personally shown him to his residence for the duration, and he had already been here for a night. He could look at the beach over the forest covering the castle from his window and he spotted a dark blot in the clear sky at a distance, assuming it was Vhagar. How could it not be?

Some servants who could speak some English were sent to serve him - they helped him with the bath and had him dressed in some traditional clothes - a soft cotton and silk hybrid suitable for the weather - they had told him. The servants spoke Hindi well, and he could understand parts of it - but they switched to a different language at times they didn’t want him to hear what they were saying. It was annoying him to no end - not having any clue what they were talking about. What if you had plotted to kill him? Not that she’d gain anything from me dying.

You visited him for breakfast, dressed in a golden garment - saree, you had said - and he thought you looked the most magnificent you ever had. An intricate golden crown glittered on your head, signifying your power. 

“I will have you meet my court today,” you told him, as he tried the spicy flat-rice you had called Poha, along with tempered buttermilk - it was so good he wanted to take barrels of it back to King’s Landing with him. “I will tell them that you do not speak Hindi, and I wish you don’t speak to the servants in Hindi.”

Aemond raised his brow, but said, “As you wish, my Queen.”

“Thank you,” You said. “One of my personal guards will come to fetch you for the court.” Then, eyeing him once again you added with a smile, “This sherwani-pyjama becomes you, if your hair was dark, you’d blend right in.”

“Your kind words flatter me, my Queen Y/N.” He said with a smile, bringing up the buttermilk glass to his mouth. “You look divine, per usual.” 

.

The throne room is immaculate, the floor a white marble with colourful mosaics on them. Unlike the Iron Throne, your throne is meant to be seated on, a large seat made of solid gold and decorated with jewels. Your face is set in a stern expression, and you look so different in your crown and throne, radiating hot power, very different from the quiet power he sensed from you in King’s Landing.

Your presence demands attention - not just the crown that does.

Aemond is seated on your left, just below the throne, a translator sits with him, translating every word being spoken. You hear pressing matters of the ruined rice crops this season, discussing with your ministers about tackling the food problem that may arise. Your council finally decides on reducing the castle supplies by a little, now that a large part of your soldiers and craftsmen were in Westeros. 

A man dressed in a dark red fully covered outfit entered. His face was covered entirely, save for his dark eyes being exposed. Aemond watched as you tensed a little at the man’s side, forcing yourself to stillness. 

“My Queen,” the man fell to the ground on one knee, sword on his upright knee and head bowed. “Long live the Queen,”

“You may rise,” You said, tension masked in easy charm. “What brings you here, spymaster?”

“My Queen,” He started, rising from the floor and standing upright with his hands behind his back. “The Emperor wishes to see your guest. He will bring guests with him - his wives and his sons.”

“Thank you spymaster,” You smiled, bringing your fingers together. “Is there anything else you would like to add?”

“No, my Queen.” The man said.

“You may leave then,” you dismissed him. Then more sternly, you said, “Minister Pattnaik, you must arrange for my father’s arrival and stay. Plan to keep them entertained until they leave. Minister Sarangi, you must have the pantry make more vegetables and meat than rice. Have them make the things so delectable, that they won’t notice the lack of rice.” 

“My Queen,” One of the women in your court rose to speak. “We have enough rice in our stock, and the rice from last year waiting to be unearthed. The people will have enough.” 

“You must understand that we cannot replenish our stocks this year, Minister Patel.” You said, seemingly holding everyone’s gaze at once. “We cannot expend freely now that we do not have crops. Also, Treasurer Gupta, I must ask you to lower the tax for the rice farmers. Will our coffers be able to take it?” 

“Some expenses will have to be cut down,” Another woman spoke, but her voice was deep and heavy like that of a man. “But I think we can do it with less taxes.”

“Good.” You said, nodding. You glance at him once, gaze telling more than words. “Now, I must introduce you to my guest - Prince Aemond Targaryen, our friend from Westeros. He is King Aegon’s brother and a skilled dragon rider and swordsman.” 

Aemond rose, looking everyone in the eyes, his lips pressed together. His lips curve slightly upwards when someone smiles at him and he notes the men and women sitting in your court - rajsabha - seeing a near equal number of men and women. It was strange for him to see so many finely dressed women taking part in decision making matters for the province, but he welcomed the change. His mother helped in running Westeros when Viserys was too ill, and now with Aegon on the throne - but Aemond knew history well enough that it wouldn’t be Alicent Hightower’s name that would go down as a king, only as the king’s wife and then the king’s mother.

“I am honoured by your introduction of me, my Queen.” He said, bowing in front of you. “Westeros and Kalinga will always be great friends.”

Aemond didn’t meddle in your court affairs much, but he did keep his ears open for any gossip that he heard, to get to know you and your motivations better. Thus far, he’d learned that you had the biggest network of spies in the empire and that you were infamous for your curious torture techniques. It was hard for him to believe that, considering your gentle manners and quiet acts back in Westeros - but as the Queen of Kalinga you were a totally different person. 

He spent a lot of time reading Hindi and learning your tongue now that he was in the castle, and would go out to the beach to see Vhagar every morning. Mansha, your sea serpent would occasionally meet him, but the three-headed beat did not seem interested in attacking him just yet. On the days the sun was mild, he would train during the afternoons, and on the hot days he would stick to sharpening his blades and tending to Vhagar’s hot scales. His old mate would frequently cool off in the sea, for her fires would be too much in the heat.

.

A couple of days had already passed when your father and his troupe arrived at your castle. You stood at the front, dressed in a heavy green lehenga, your ministers standing behind you. Aemond was a few feet off your left, looking straight ahead.

He is majestically dressed in the finest cotton blends - for it is too hot to adorn silks. Aemond is not particularly fond of the heat, but he does enjoy being able to shed some layers of clothing - he had never felt lighter in his life.

"Samrat Ravikirti is here!" The guard announced, and the crowd broke into loud cheers. Aemond looks over at you, standing still, reaching for the garland held out to you by the servant. The young servant boys and girls start showing the incoming crowd with fragrant flower petals of roses and marigolds. He had read about the cultural significance of the flowers - and the excessive grandeur your people cherished - he could see why now.

Everything there felt too colourful - the dark and sometimes suffocating walls of the Red Keep were devoid of such vibrant colours, only the Godswood came to a close comparison. With everyone dressed in their finest to impress the Emperor, it was a sight to behold. Your court painter stood above the entire crowd, immortalising this moment on his huge canvas.

Your father, the Emperor, was an imposing man - a tall man with a big moustache and a heavy gold crown on his head - there was no doubt left of him being the emperor or your father. It was obvious by the sight of him that he was your father, the similarities between the two of you being too much to be otherwise.

You gracefully bent over and touched your father’s feet, and the old man responded with something Aemond couldn’t comprehend and you rose back up, beaming with pride. “It is an honour to host you, Samrat,” you said. “Do come in, I hope you find the arrangements up to your taste.”

You and your father lead the walk back in, and the other courtiers follow behind in a neat line. He recognises some of your brothers and sisters - features similar enough to be closely related. There had been a lot of talk about the Emperor and his wives - the four daughters of the King of Kalinga that he married upon conquering the throne - all of them famed for their beauty with their magnificent dark hair and entrancing brown eyes. He was curious to see the Emperor’s Queens and wondered which one of his wives was your mother.

None of the Queens had stepped out of their palkis nor any of your brothers’ wives. The crowd dispersed and Aemond took a long route to his chambers poking around for any gossip that he could pick up. Gossip holds a pinch of truth, he’s learned from growing up in a court. Gossip could make and break people, he learned that too - albeit in a rather harsh manner. 

“I suppose these few days are going to be very taxing on the Queen,” He overhears a servant - she is dressed in other colours, probably coming along with your father’s troupe. “I bet 3 days before she snaps.

“Three is too long,” The other said. “It’s too long for her infamous wrath - the asurs would tremble in front of our spy queen. With her network of spies and informants, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had asurs on her team too.” [asur = demon]

In the couple of months that Aemond had known you, he had always seen you a calm and collected person who could be deadly if she wanted to. But here he heard things about he couldn't believe to be true.

Aemond had barely reached the relative comfort of his chambers when a servant rushed to him with a note signed by you.

Be ready for meeting my father before dinner. He might try to insult you in front of the court, try not to let yourself become a laughing stock.

.

Aemond did not let himself become a laughing stock. Your father, Samrat Ravikirti adamantly tried to pick at him for something with the one that started this all - Cerwyn Lannister acting as the translator for him. You sternly interrupted the blond bastard whenever he misspoke, and he shrunk back from your glare. Aemond was glad for your intervention, unable to mask his own fury.

“What will your marriage bring to Bharat that’s not already there?” Samrat asked. You are leaning back in your seat, looking almost bored.

“Dragons,” Aemond said. “Our children, your grandchildren will get dragons. All Targaryen children get dragons.”

“You can marry one of my other daughters for that then,” He argued. You stiffen in your seat on the Emperor’s right. “My grandchildren will get dragons either way.”

“Will that make me the King Consort?” Aemond asked with a polite smile. Seeing you lean back in your bored position, he knew he asked the right question.

Ravikirti narrowed his eyes, displeased but impressed. “You can marry my daughter then,” He reluctantly permitted. “But you’ll be handing fire breathing beasts to a woman known for her rage.”

And it was then Aemond wondered if it was worth getting tied to you - he couldn't help but be intrigued, he desperately wanted to see this rage that everyone was talking about.

Edit: I forgot to tag everyone I am so sorry it was like 2 am when I posted this </3

@km-ffluv @stargaryenx @faatxma @thenovelcarnival @afro-hispwriter @mynameisbaby9 @depressedperson88  @mrswhitethornbelikov

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen, Part 3

A/N: This does not have much Aemond in it, but we see the reader bonding with Haelena. Also this does contain Daemon slander, if you don’t like this i'd recommend you skip this over. (This is NOT proofread, so please lmk of any spelling or grammatical errors, thanks!) 

Word Count: 1.1 k

Summary: You find yourself with the beloved Queen Haelena, learning why the people loved her so dearly.

Series Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

The air was tense, everyone in the Red Keep pulled taut as a string. Word of Rhaenyra Targaryen’s husband Daemon Targaryen plotting to usurp the Iron Throne was spreading faster than a wildfire. The Rogue Prince was infamous for his bloodlust and affinity for wars, and with the brief interaction she had shared with the blacks, she had decided that she did not like him.

Crass, wild, and entitled were the words your mind thought when you had met him. Other less than insulting words also came to her head,  but you didn’t express them for the sake of court manners. Daemon Targaryen certainly had skill with his wicked sword and powerful dragons, but whatever skill he had in combat was diminished by his ability to jump to thoughtless conclusions and the less than flattering words he had expressed of you and your people.

Despite the gossip that had been filled in your ears about the Dowager Queen and her children, the Princess had found the Red Keep and its Royal residents far more welcoming than your previous hosts. Must have been your biassed mind, but thus far, all the rumours had been just that - rumours. 

Presently you were sitting with the gentle-souled Haelena, embroidering a gold jhumka on the corner of a green kerchief. It was made of the finest silk you had got from home, embroidering something for the Queen herself. Haelena sat across you, lost in her own beautiful world, embroidering flowers the princess had never seen before. Later, you were expected to accompany the Queen as she toured King’s Landing to meet her people. From what you had observed, the smallfolk loved their Queen, for she was kind and patient to anyone and everyone.

“Mighty Queen braves the storm,” Haelena’s sweet, sweet voice muttered. “The dragon blazed it down, the King can only sit and watch,” she continued, “As the enemies turn to torch.”    

“My Queen, do you see something?” You gently asked.

“Mighty Queen braves the storm,” Haelena repeated, smiling, seemingly oblivious to the ominous poem she just recited. Glancing down at the golden embroidery in her hand, the Queen said, “I find it quite lovely, the design you have sewn, what is this ring called, Princess?”

“It is a piece of Bharatiya jewellery. We wear it with our fancier clothes, or even otherwise.” You explained. “Would Your Grace like one?”

“I think Jaehara would love those.” Haelena examined the pattern, a serene smile on her face. “That looks really pretty, Princess.”

“I’ll have some personally delivered to you, Your Grace.” You said, bowing your head with a smile. “Now, pray tell, do you prefer gold or silver, My Queen?”

“Gold is like the sun - warm, ever-present, glaring.” She muttered, half to herself. “Silver is like the moon - serene, kind, gentle.” Haelena pondered for a moment and said, “I will have one of each, My Lady.”

“And I shall personally see to it, my Queen.” You smiled. No wonder the small folk loved their Queen (Queen-Consort, rather) even though they disliked the King. And there was the youngest Prince, Daeron the Daring, who was even adored by people who despised the Targaryen invaders. You were yet to make an acquaintance of the youngest prince, yet you had never heard ill of him.

Haelena thought you were nice, and brought her pet spider to see you. The creature’s wrinkly-black legs made you a bit queasy, but you had seen worse. You had even killed some of them with your slippers - you didn’t have it in your heart to break that news to the Queen. You didn’t imagine she’d be fond of you after revealing that. Either way, the spider had seemingly taken after Haelena and didn’t move anywhere from her palm, then calmly crawled back into the cage when the Queen commanded. Perhaps it knew that she was the Queen.

“Haelena-” the Dowager Queen Alicent called out to her daughter, stopping when she saw you seated beside the Queen. You promptly got up and curtseyed, then stood still with you back straight. “Princess, it’s good to see you here. I am most glad that Haelena has found a friend.” She glanced at you once over, taking in the silk saree that you had adorned for the occasion. “It is great that I found you here. I thought it would be great if you could join us for dinner tomorrow night. We will host a feast to celebrate this new alliance between Bharat and Westeros.”

“I made an alliance with your son, My Lady,” You decided to say. “I fear I am not loyal to Westeros, only to King Aegon and his family.”

“You speak dangerous words,” Alicent warned, but her big brown eyes swarmed with relief. “You might be tried for treason.”

“It is not treason if I am not betraying my land.” You simply said. “As for my words, I only speak the truth as it is. I am not a fan of coddling lies, My Lady.”

“Your boldness is refreshing and admirable, Princess Y/N” The King’s mother admitted, eyes filled with pride. “But people have been harmed for much less,”

“I must pick my company carefully then,” You smiled at the previous queen, who returned your gesture.

“Indeed,” Alicent agreed. “The hour is late, I must put my grandchildren to bed,”

The little blond twins followed their grandmother out, giggling about something. The two innocent souls seemed unaware of the war threatening to start, and you would prefer to keep it that way. These toddlers deserved to have a proper childhood, as did the thousands of others who lived. At least, you would try to push the war back until your civilians were safe back in Bharat.

“I should take my leave, Your Grace.” You said, curtseying in front of Haelena. “It was wonderful spending time with you… I will look forward to our next meeting.”

Haelena sweetly smiled at you as you turned to leave, her ominous words echoing in your mind, and the kind smile she sent your way. You didn’t want her to get caught up in the bubbling war, but there would be no way to stop it from reaching her if the war started. Such a serene woman did not have to see the horrors of war - yet, she would be the one to suffer the most - Queens and mothers see the most losses in a war, and Haelena Targaryen was both.

Had you stayed mere moments longer, you would have seen the Prince come to his sister’s chambers to fetch his nephew and niece, only to find them both gone with their grandmother and as sister with a peaceful smile on her face, admiring the golden embroidery of your jhumkas on the green silk. Lately, Haelena had always been troubled, plagued by nightmares and visions words couldn’t share.

Aemond was relieved to see her finally relax, yet his curiosity got the best of him. What could have transpired to finally calm Haelena down?

You didn’t see when Aemond held a calculating glint in his eye as his sister recited the words to him, didn’t see when his interest turned into determination, when the little embers that urged him to get to know you turned into dancing flames. For now, he stoked the fires, hiding them like he hid the sapphire in his eye socket. Fire always gives smoke, he knew that, but he had long since mastered to disguise the smoke.

“Mighty Queen braves the storm, The dragon blazed it down, the King can only sit and watch, As the enemies turn to torch.”

Tags: @km-ffluv

Do let me know if you want to be added in the tags

[biblioklept-writes]

A little teaser for the next update of "The Foreign Queen"

(little spoiler: they properly interact for the first time)

“You are a dangerous woman,” He concluded, his lilac eye gleaming with something darker and deadlier than interest.

“And you are a dangerous man.” You stated, holding his steady gaze.

I hope you enjoy the next part!

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen (Aemond Targaryen x Desi!Fem!Reader)

Summary: There is a new ship in the land, carrying riches Westeros has never seen before. The people are interesting, sharing some common and other completely different ideas. Aemond decides to deal with one claiming to be their Princess, the beautiful Y/N, and something clicks in place.

Content Warning: canon divergence (duh), i have only watched the show, might contain some spoilers, reader has black hair and brown eyes (typical of most desis) and wear kajal (kohl), reader will be good at maths and physics (i had too i need the representation), reader is hindu and will talk of hinduism, there will be “strong” jokes, I invented a whole new continent in the hotd universe, okay? Explicit language to be expected, other than that we are good i guess? No other physical description of the reader is involved

Ps: will use hindi, sanskrit and odia (translations in parentheses). Currently this is just an idea, i will write further if the motivation and plot strikes. 

Series Masterlist

It had been a rather dull autumn afternoon, the only highlight yet being the morning flight Aemond had gotten with Vhagar. Business in the council was proceeding as usual, with Aegon missing and their grandsire, Otto Hightower acting as the King Reagent in his stead while their mother, Dowager Queen Alicent Targaryen sat at the head. The lords had been discussing an upcoming tourney when a messenger came in with a flushed face, looking as though he ran from port to the Red Keep. He barely caught his breath before he started speaking.

“There is a large ship being docked in the port, Your Grace, My Lord Hand,” He breathlessly said. “Their messengers speak mostly in a foreign tongue, but they claim to be here for trade. They say their princess is with them, those strange people. They are asking for permission to enter King’s Landing.”

“Where are these people from?” Otto Hightower asked. “Did they say?”

“They said… Bharat.” The messenger added, still struggling to catch his breath. “Your Grace, My Lord Hand, you must send your word with me back, the matter requires your urgent attention. They wish to speak with His Majesty in his court.”

“I don’t think a message would be apt for this situation,” Alicent calmly said. “It is better if we send a representative of ours with you, Ser.” Her big brown eyes scanned the room once, and said, “Ser Cole, I would like you to go to the docks as Aegon’s representative, make sure that these people are not of ill intentions.”

“It would be better to send a royal to accompany Ser Cole, Your Grace.” Ser Willis Fell said, earning agreeing nods from the other lords in the council. “For if this Princess' claim is true, it wouldn't be… appropriate for a Knight to meet a lady of such stature. If My Lord Hand could go-”

“I will accompany Ser Cole,” Aemond said. He agreed, if it were indeed a princess of a foreign land, sending a non-royal to speak with her would reflect poorly on them. A foreign land meant more resources and soldiers, and they needed both of them in abundance as the war threatened to bloom in Westeros and Essos. A strong alliance for them meant a weakness for their opponent.

“Aemond-” Alicent started, but he interrupted her.

“I’ll be fine, Mother.” He said. “I really wish to see these strange people claiming to be traders.” Aemond’s gaze fixed on the messenger, who seemed to cower under his calculating stare. Of course, the eyepatch must have been a contributing factor with the reputation that he had built for himself.

Vhagar was simply too big to fly to the dock, so Aemond had to take a horse along with Ser Cole, unfortunately. It took them a bit over an hour but they managed to make it to the dock before sunset, and there he saw it: a ship in the horizon, larger than anything he had ever seen before, gleaming like liquid gold in the late afternoon sun. A red and white striped flag with a yellow swastik flew high in the oceanic winds.

Two men adorning mustard colored tunics and some white pants with black hair, white turbans and twining moustaches signalled at the ship upon his arrival, and a small boat moved toward the coastline. They were still too far away to make out clearly, but once the boat got closer, he noticed the woman sitting in the front, majestic on the waves. The man and the woman behind her rowed her quickly to the shore.

He thought her claim must be true then, for she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on with her hair blacker than midnight and her brown eyes stern yet deep. Her presence commanded attention, and she carried herself with the poise of a queen.

She was dressed in a lavender and white garment he had never seen before, her dark mane complimenting her brown, kohl-lined eyes. Her body held a certain feline grace - her steps quiet and calculated, her gaze confident and conniving. 

Aemond got off his horse as she stepped off the dock and towards the port, the messenger escorting her to him and Ser Criston, who stood behind him with his hand ready to raise his sword. “This is Princess Y/N of the Bharat,” the messenger said, unable to take his eyes off you. Everyone present on the dock stared eagerly, trying to soak up the gossip.

“And I assume you must be Prince Aemond,” She said, her voice firm but sweet. Her pronunciation held an accent, but it was fairly accurate. He was more surprised to find that she actually knew him by name and recognised him this quickly. “I hear you have a reputation for brutality,”

“Only to the people that pester my family and my brother’s kingdom.” He replied in his usual monotone voice. “I hope you aren’t here to threaten my brother’s kingdom, for I’d hate to put a blade through you.”

“Bharat reaches to you in good hopes, Prince,” She said. “We are merely here to offer trade: we have skilled workers manufacturing weapons, chariots, even defences of all sorts. We have great food and spices. You ought to give us a chance to present our goods before disregarding us.”

“Would these weapons fight against dragons, Princess?” Aemond asked.

“There’s only one way to find that out,” she said. “I hope to be able to get an audience with the King, we will do as he sees fit -  we shall leave in peace if he demands that, my Prince.”

“Mhm,” Aemond glanced over at her and her people once more. They all had a curved knife strapped to their hips, and the princess carried a two-foot long blade in a bejewelled holster, the hilt seemingly made of gold with a leather grip. He noted the big gold hoops that gleamed in her ears and the three large rings that occupied her right hands’ fingers. “Only you and one more person will be granted permission to meet the King,” He carefully said. “And… you must leave your weapons behind.”

“Going into a foriegn land with no people and no weapons seems like a fools’ errand, my Prince,” She countered. “Are your swordsmen and fighters so incapable that you are afraid of being attacked in your own palace by two foreigners?”

Aemond slowly blinked, a devious grin forming at her words. “Very well then,” he said, voice decisive. “You and your companion must be accompanied by a knight or me at all times, for we have no intent of trusting someone… unfamiliar with our home. Times like these demand such action,”

“I hope we wouldn’t bore you with our dull company,” She said, brown eyes glinting with amusement, and something dark, something he pictured in his own gaze.

“I can tell that your company will be anything but dull, Princess.” He said. “Ser Criston, please get two mighty steeds for our companions from Bharat.”

Presently, they stand in the King’s Court, the drunkard King sober for a change. Aemond supposed the foreign Princess’ commanding presence was a contributing factor to his brother’s sobriety, but he knew it was her enticing allure, her charming voice and her regal poise that appealed to him. The princess reminded him of wildflowers - magnificent, all consuming in their scent and most of the time, deadly. 

His keen eye had not missed the way the knights of the Kingsguard and the lords at the court had eyed the bejewelled sheath of her blade up and down, as if trying to see through the sheath and capture the blade.

“You talk of trade, yet you carry weapons deadly enough to cut a man,” Aegon noted, gaze eagerly fixed on the woman in front of him. The whole court was silent save for his words, all eyes and ears focused on the stunning princess. “What sort of trade requires that, pray tell me,”

“Your Majesty, the blades are to defend the supplies,” She said, voice neutral. “And to hunt animals for meat. The blades only cut through those who threaten our peace, honour and survival.”

Aegon scratched his chin, leaning forward. “What did you say your trade in?”

“Spices, fabrics, weapons, gold, skilled labourers,” She said, seemingly holding everyone’s gaze at once. “Silver, bronze, blacksmiths who can build chariots, soldiers who would kill for your cause.”

The silence that followed was ringing, one could hear everyone’s breath.

“Why do you need this trade?” Otto Hightower asked.

“My Lord Hand,” Princess Y/N started with a respectful bow. “Why do merchants sell? Why does a servant work? All of the work that we do comes down to one thing - money and power. We have skilled labourers, we have gold, we have silver, we have copper. But even gold becomes worthless when it is in excess, and the flow of trade would make both of us more powerful.”

“What would we get in exchange for our money?” Dowager Queen Alicent asked. Aemond knew from the gleam in her big brown eyes that she was curious, at least, about the goods the princess promised.

“Allow me to present to you a small gift, Your Grace,” The Princess bowed again. From the bags, her moustached companion fetched the finest of the silk Aemond had ever seen - his fingers involuntarily twitched at the sight of the sage-green fabric. A servant brought the fabric from the foreign man to his mother, who was visibly impressed by the silk. “It is the finest silk in the known land, Your Grace,”

Another sample was a thick gold chain with a tiny hourglass pendant, given to his Grandsire Otto Hightower. “My Lord Hand, this hour glass turns over itself in a period of five and forty minutes,” She said. “It is made of the most intricate designs and is sturdy enough to be worn daily.”

“For His Majesty,” The Princess said as her companion fetched a foot long box wrapped in a silver-grey cloth. “We present the blade forged by our best swordsmiths, we present a gauntlet sword - Dandpatta - made in silver reinforced with the best steel we make.”

Aegon eagerly opened his present, the silver blade almost blinding in its shine. He stood up and tested the blade, and commented, “It has great balance, Princess.”

“I am glad to impress Your Majesty,” She said. Her companion fetched another box wrapped in silver-grey cloth, this time the servant handing the box to Aemond. He opened the box, normally, as the Princess’ sweet voice said, “For those who prefer sleath over pomp, for the one known to be quiet, I present to you, Ratri, the blade of the night. It is made of the highest quality of wootz steel, and can cut silently even through the toughest of barks and scales.”

It was a wicked blade, curved slightly like a scythe, but much smaller and easily concealable. When did the princess get to study each of them? Has someone been ratting them out to people they didn’t even know existed? For such precision in giving gifts was impossible without proper prior knowledge of the receiver.

The Princess turned to Haelena and curtseyed for the first time. “For Her Majesty, I present a jewellery set fit for a Queen of her stature, it is all in steel reinforced gold - can be used as a weapon lest someone corner the beautiful Queen.” 

“Quite thoughtful of you, presenting these gifts,” Aegon said, clearly impressed by the sword he received. “I will let you trade with us, Princess.” 

Perhaps you had impressed his brother with the presents you had so thoughtfully brought, but you had imprinted yourself in his head with all the inside information you must have known to think of such gifts. Either that or you and your companions were quick judges of character, but that seemed a bit of a stretch. Your face was one he could never forget, with the intense kohl and the gleaming brown eyes and hair darker than the night, you were a sight meant to be remembered.

The only logical explanation seemed that you had spies in the Red Keep, getting updates about everyone from that source. He had to find that source, pull it off the roots, for you knew the royal family a little too well.

The court was dismissed and you were sent back to let your ship dock at the port and your people had been granted an empty warehouse to store the goods along with a clear plot of land to build the temporary housing facilities your people would need.

Alicent had generously offered you to stay in the castle walls, but you had politely declined, saying that your heart and duty lies with your people and travelling companions. Aemond respected that, his respect for you growing tenfold on learning that you spoke in four tongues and were learning a fifth. But he had so much to learn from you, and from your manners in court today, he knew it would be a big challenge for him - you had earned his respect, but he had to know how you spied on his family without them being aware of you and your peoples’ existence.

How was it that the mighty Targaryens with their dragons had never explored the unknown? How was it that a fleet of ships managed to survive the unresting sea from lands so far away that the dragonriders didn’t spot it? It was this primal hunger for answers that urged him to get closer to you, to dig out the answers he needed to sate his curiosity. Why were you promising them your soldiers? Were you one of his half-sister’s ploys to usurp the throne that was rightfully Aegon’s? Were you sent on a mission, falsely pretending to be a princess sent by Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen to wipe his family clean and leave the Iron Throne vulnerable and up for them to do as they please?

There were so many questions, but no answers in sight. Aemond doubted you were from Driftmark - you and your people were too different, with skin that glowed like gold under the sunlight and new languages he hadn’t even heard of before. Self-appointing himself as your contact person to the King’s council, he frequented your camp, not seeing any ill intent - at least for now.

But he didn’t know what to make of the Bharatiyas either. The people were welcoming and nice enough, even treated him to delicacies he never could have imagined. There were some names he was struggling to speak, but Aemond was nothing if not determined. With the eyes of a hawk and the hearing of a wolf, the dragon carefully observed the foreigners and slowly picked on your languages. 

One of them - Hindi - was simpler than the other tongues that people used. It seemed there were as many dialects as there were people, and Aemond found himself terribly lost as he tried to keep up with them. But he had vowed to himself that he would learn to understand your languages, at least. Yet, he was drawn in by the complexities and fun of their culture, how they worshipped their Gods and Goddesses; how each member of the camp contributed to the working; how the few kids there were allowed to be exposed to the Westeros languages and culture (lack thereof, he thought later).

Aemond had never expected to enjoy someone else’s customs this much. He had appointed himself on a mission, and he wouldn’t let himself be distracted. He swore that he will abstain from gazing at your intense eyes and glowing skin, from the confidence you exude and the power you command.

But each second he spent in your presence, he found himself more enraptured by you - your kohl lined eyes, your pretty mouth, your heavy gold jewellery and the delight with which you spoke. He would be damned to the seven hells and beyond with all the teasing he would get if Aegon or Daeron ever read his mind, full of thought with admiration for you.

Here it is! for all the desi!readers out there like me, I hope you enjoy this. This part mainly describes their entrance and welcome, and I will try to include more political intrigue as I write further. Do drop by some scene ideas that i can include so all the desis feel represented. It is currently 2 am for me but today is Halloween and my birthday so I am posting this as a treat for myself (yes this is another treat for me hehe) Lets hope that i can get around to finish this one. Also, if you are a team black stan who would rather stay off some anti-sort remarks, i am sorry loves but this one is not for you. Better if you scroll past than start an argument.

[biblioklept-writes]

HOTD Masterlist

The Young Mother(Alicent Hightower snippet)

Curious Toddlers (Ser Cole being dad to Baby Aemond and Baby Daeron)

The Forgeign Queen (Aemond Targaryen x desi!f!Reader)

His Goddess* (Aemond Targaryen x f!Reader)

Stargirl (Modern!Aemond x fem!Reader) Series Masterlist

Secrets and Lies - I, II (Mafia!Targaryens)

His Salvation (Ghost!Aemond x Reader)

Drabble (Ghost!Aemond)

Drabble (Aemond being vulnerable)

I Was A Fool(Modern!Aemond x Reader)

Massage (Modern!Aemond x Reader)

Ideas/Works in Progress

[biblioklept-writes]

The Foreign Queen (Part 2)

Aemond Targaryen x f!Desi!Reader

Summary: Prince Aemond spends time in your camp, curious about you proficiency in English and the people of Westeros.

Warnings: None for this part

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You knew that you were being watched, by the keen eye of Prince Aemond himself, the royal curious about your knowledge. You should have known better than presenting each of the royal present in court with gifts that they would singularly admire, for suspicions arose, from the Prince himself.

Perhaps it had been a rash decision on your part, but now you saw the Prince and his knights mingle with your people, forming acquaintances and laying foundations for friendships that would surely come. You thought back to that day around a year ago when a yellow-haired man had washed up your shore, his blue-green eyes and yellow sickly hair being a shocking revelation to everyone in Bharat, for you had never seen such a strange looking man.

Now, you sat beside an even stranger looking man, one who had a deadly scar over his eye and had covered it with a leather patch. You imagined it must not have been comfortable, for leather bites, but it might have been for healing purposes. Such nasty scars would get infected easily. His open eye, the lilac orb glowing with curiosity, has hungrily soaked up any knowledge about Bharat and the Bharatiyas.

While you still struggled with a few sounds in this unfamiliar language, it had been far easier to learn than it had been with odia. Being around more people who spoke the new language was helping your tongue adapt faster. 

“Can I be of some assistance, my Prince?” you asked the silver haired man.

“I would like to visit the marketplace with you once, my Princess,” he simply said.

“Right now?” You asked, surprised.

“Whenever you are finished,” He said, voice devoid of any emotion.

“You must give me an hour,” you politely asked.

Rapidly assigning the different demands to her team, she accompanied the young prince in his journey to the Bharat Market - as the locals had started calling it - on foot, stopping by every stall to examine the goods being sold. The crowd parted around the two royalties, giving them priority access to the items.

Prince Aemond lingered in the sandalwood stall, the scent earning a wicked interest from his one lilac eye. There was a limited collection, for the wood was bulky and it was expensive, most people only buying a sliver to experience the new commodity. You knew the effect it had on people, the calming, earthly scent was a popular fragrance agent back in Bharat and people used chandan as tikka on their foreheads and to offer it as they worshipped the Devas, Shiva and Krishna are both said to enjoy the offering of the cool, calming chandan.

“What is this wood called?” He asked in his quiet voice.

“We call it chandan,” you replied. “Or sandalwood,”

“Chandan,” Aemond tested the word, its sound endearing in his accent. It was surprising how much effort He had put in learning to speak Hindi, despite the fact most of her people were proficient in English. As she studied him with her dark gaze, she concluded that he would be a force to be reckoned with. He might have been missing an eye but his vision and mind were sharper than those who had both their eyes. He would make a formidable enemy, you thought.

Aemond moved on to the next exhibit, this one of the spices and herbs. His expression remained  neutral but his brow relaxed a bit as he took in the menagerie of aromatic smells that just teased the sensations.

“What are these used for?” He quietly enquired.

“The spices serve many purposes,” You explain. “Most for flavouring the food, but some of them have medicinal properties and have use in healing. Peppers and chilis make for good weapons - those can momentarily blind the affected.”

“I see,” He acknowledged and then stopped by the weapons exhibit. The finery of silks and cotton did not seem to appeal to the warrior prince. “These blades are magnificent,” his quiet voice said. “Your craftsmen are incredible.”

“Care for a friendly-sparring, my Prince?” You boldly asked. You had noticed the gleam in his eye as he had admired the blades you had gifted the Royal family - and the current look in his lilac eye was a copy of that. 

“Mhm,” He muttered and you reached for twin wootz blades, both yet to be named. Shashank, the blacksmith, bowed his head in respect and smiled.

A small clearing by the back of your camp seemed apt for the sword-fighting match. The soil was soft with you soldiers regularly training and practising there, and it was away from the public eye. You were dressed in a modest kurti and salwar, opting only to change your chappals for a pair of boots.

You threw up the blade and caught it, testing it and finding your balance point. Aemond did the same, admiring the wicked gleam of the blade as he tested the grip.

“Shall we begin?” You prompted.

Aemond merely nodded soundlessly and assumed a fighting stance. You followed, thinking about how your posture was the same despite living worlds apart.

The two of you moved in a circle, fleshing the other out, not yet going in for an attack. Once you returned to the point where you started, you lunged forward with your sword raised. The Targaryen Prince effectively blocked the attack by slashing his sword upwards, the two blades colliding with a loud clang. You stepped back whilst blocking his blade, the point of his sword too close to poking your beautiful eye out. 

Amusement flickered in his one eye as he slashed his blade in a wide arc, and you jumped back to dodge the point. Then you brought down your sword with a force, a loud clang reverberating as the twin blades collided, both of you a little out of breath. The rest of the play fight passed in a blur of the adrenaline and dopamine rush, your memory predominated by his pretty lilac eyes and silky silver hair. 

The end of the friendly fight was imprinted on your mind, with your legs set wide and the tip of your blade resting on his windpipe, whilst his rested right above your navel. If either of you pressed the blade deeper, it would draw blood, and with the way your heart thundered against your ribs, surely you would bleed to death in a matter of moments. His eye held you in place as you gazed into the depths of it, panting, coming down from the adrenaline high.

“It was a pleasure having this battle with you, Princess,” Aemond said, still not lowering his blade. You first took the pressure off his throat and he then followed. “I am honoured to have a skilled partner in battle.”

“I can say the same for you,” You said, now smiling. To your surprise, the stoic one-eyed prince returned you a small grin and then shook your hand. “I would be honoured to fight by your side or with you.”

“Haven’t you picked a side yet, Princess?” He asked, voice dropping to a chilly threat. “Am I allowing a Black spy in the capital? Or did I leave a potential enemy alive?” 

“I will not be your enemy if you don’t give me a reason to,” You said, slightly raising your dark brow. “As for being a Black spy, I will inform you that I am not particularly fond of your half-sister or her husband.” 

“Reputation precedes the Targaryens, then?” He asked. “Your words do not convince me of your loyalty, my Princess.”

“My Prince, then you must tell me how I can,” You said. 

“Answer a couple of my questions, truthfully, and maybe I will put in a word of good faith for you,” He offered.

“As you deem fit, my Prince.” 

“Who told you about us?” Aemond asked, not skirting about the issue.

“We had a strange man wash up on the shore, healed him, fed him.” You explained. “He spoke in an unfamiliar tongue and I had to learn from whatever he spoke. Eventually I got around to understanding his language and learned of these landmasses - Essos and Westeros - and the people, strange people who live there and how he escaped to get away from the war.”

“What did your strange man look like?” He asked.

“He had yellow hair and eerie blue eyes.” You answered. “I had never seen such a man before. Said his name was… La… n… minister?”

“Lannister?” Aemond asked, his gaze sharp and eyebrow raised. “Cerwyn Lannister?”

“Something like that,” You shrugged. “Strange man, strange language, strange name. He talks my ears off about his Kingdom of Rocks and how he missed them. Would you be so kind as to tell me more about that bastard?”

“Oh he’s a bastard alright,” Aemond said. “Gerold Lannister’s favourite bastard,”

“Bastard does mean a child born out of wedlock or an…” you thought for a moment. “Illegitimate child of either husband or the wife?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, seemingly deep in thought. His eye was toward you, the scarred side out of your vision. Aemond didn’t need to show his scar to be intimidating. The tight set of his sharp jaw and the seemingly permanent frown made him scary enough. “You can speak english fairly well,”

“I am a fast learner,” you said.

Aemond merely studied you for a long moment, then bowed. “I must leave for the Red Keep, my Princess.” He bid farewell. “If you wish to spar sometime, you are welcome in the Red Keep. I am certain I or Ser Criston would be able to make time for our esteemed guest.”

“Thank you, my Prince,” You said. This was the most talking you had ever heard him do, and you didn’t like how it unsettled you even more. His voice was nice enough, you could hear him talk for hours, yet it carried a certain threat and command to it - like a quiet predator purring after a successful hunt, like a lion roaring to scare his enemies. It was his keen eye that unsettled you the most - he paid attention to detail and made you feel bare and defenceless, like he had the power to see right through you and your head. You had always been a great liar, but lying to him was a mammoth task in itself. What if he could hear your thundering heart?

“Prince Aemond!” You ran. Aemond halted, and you caught up to him, standing with your chin held high under his sharp gaze. “We will be celebrating the onset of the harvesting season three days from now,” you told him. “We would be pleased to host you and your family, my Prince. It is an important festival for us: Baisakhi.”

“Certainly,” Aemond nodded. “Will that be all?”

You nodded at him, watching his silky silver hair dance behind him as he disappeared into the crowd by the stables.

Does anyone want me to make a taglist for this?

[biblioklept-writes]

Any desi authors or readers in this fandom?

I want to write/read a fic with desi!reader for House of the Dragon. If there are any, please please please, link them or send them to me i am begging you

If you would like to read a desi!reader please interact with this i am again begging you

[biblioklept-writes]

ahh as a desi it is so refreshing to see desi inclusive pieces!! your work is literally godsend ❤️ thank you!!

thank you for this ask! I am happy my work is reaching the intended audience ✨

[biblioklept-writes]

hi. is it possible to do an enemies to lovers between aemond x reader? the reader hates aemond for his arrogance and impulsive behaviour. aemond supposedly "hates" her and is in complete denial. however, he gets jealous when she is performing traditional dancing with one of her male friends because he doesn't know the moves and feels left out. after the dance, he chases her to the gardens after the dance while the reader is wearing her traditional costume and jewelleries. and that was when he finally notices how beautiful the reader is. if you can consider this, that would be great! thanks!

Hey anon! thank you for this prompt <3

I am going Desi!reader with this, hoping that you were desi and came to my blog from this hehe. I feel this prompt suites modern times better than hotd era and I incorporated a tinsy bit of this ask, sorry if thats not what you had in mind!

I was a fool (Modern!Aemond x Reader)

Content: just some jealous Aemond in an arranged marriage type of situation, could be considered fluff

A/N: Ravi is just an OC (if you are familiar with A Good Girl's Guide to Murder then not really)

HOTD Masterlist | Modern!Aemond Masterlist

Sometimes, being a rich heiress was tough.

You enjoyed a luxurious life thanks to your parent's jewellery making and retail, and a luxury hotel chain - they were one of the most famed in all of Westeros, having migrated from the Indian Subcontinent in their youth.

As their eldest daughter and heiress, you were introduced to the Targaryens, a strange family full of scandal, yet they were the wealthiest of the business families in all of Westeros - dealing with luxury vehicles, home decor, skin care and cosmetics line - and they owned some smaller, less expensive brands under elusive names. Surely not all of their business was legal, just like yours.

You had first met Aemond Targaryen at one of your mother's seven star hotel, right by the King's Landing Airport. It was a rather secretive place and paparazzi stayed away, courtesy of the Airport Security Force. You had become accustomed to the bright lights and the shining marble flooring and the high ceilings, non of them piquing your interest as they did when you were a child.

You had heard a lot about him, more than you were willing to admit. You had attended the same university, with him being two years your senior. He was stoic - stayed quiet save for answering the professors. Among the girls, he had a reputation of being inexpressive and condescending, even though he was a pleasure in bed. You and him never had the same crowd - not in university and never outside of it. You had heard he loved cars and partook in numerous F1 races and had a stellar reputation - almost always getting to the podium.

Reputation or not, you did not like him. He was a stuck-up and arrogant man, and you couldn't stand the thought of marrying him even for a profit to your family. Pretending to be in love with this man was tough, even with his god-like beauty.

Aemond has his permanent scowl on his face, even when you are having a very public dinner with his cousin Baela and her fiancé. You and Baela are having a light-hearted conversation on the subject of cosmetics, sharing your preferences and icks. Bonding over the fact that neither of you manage to get a foundation that matches perfectly, you pitch that maybe you should start your own cosmetic line catering to darker skins specifically.

"I'll promote you for free," Baela quips. "It's time we take matters into our own hands, isn't it?"

"That's what I am saying," You chuckle. 

Both your companions are sitting in complete silence after exchanging etiquette compelled pleasantries. They quietly pick at their plates, and you pity the Lannister man - Baela's fiancé - for being stuck with your soon to be fiancé, Aemond. You've stopped feeling anything for him quite a while ago, your date.

"Red is really your colour," Baela compliments once the quartet of you is out of the restaurant. "It's hard to keep eyes off of you,"

The two of you walk arm in arm behind your respective dates, feeling pleasant in the cool evening air. "Thank you," you say, pushing your hair away from your eyes. "You're a stunner yourself, Baela." 

She stops, and lets the men walk out of earshot before asking, "How does my cousin treat you?" She sounds concerned.

You take both her hands in yours, heart warmed by her concern. "He's fine. We barely talk. That's great," you say. "Otherwise I'd have slapped him by now."

"He's a bit of a... personality," Baela agrees. "If he does anything that bothers you, let me know. I will put a word to his mother."

You chuckle, "Sure," The only reason you've not turned your house upside down is because of this family. They have their quirks, but Baela and her twin Rhaena, Alicent, Helaena and Daeron have been very welcoming of you, making sure that you feel right at home.

As etiquette rules, Aemond waits for you by the passenger side of his Rolls Royce as you walk to it, opening the door for you then going over to the driver's side. He is quiet again, and you start scrolling through your phone, answering any messages that need urgent attention. It's always like this, you barely speak aside from exchanging pleasantries - and honestly, you didn't mind it too much.

It's not like you hadn't tried, you had always tried to make small talk, to get to know him better, but his responses never exceeded one word. How was your day? Average. How are you feeling? Good. And that was on the good days, otherwise, you've only ever heard him hum or snark in response.

He wasn't controlling of what you were doing or who you were with - one could say it was all they asked for in a rich husband who let them do whatever they want. You didn't want that though, you were the eldest daughter of ultra rich immigrant parents, you knew how to get things done your way, and you knew how to keep everyone in line without having to utter a word. But you were also the eldest daughter of immigrant parents, always having to set a pristine example for your little brother and youngest sister, be the perfect daughter, caretaker, student, dancer, performer, the best of your year, raise your siblings while your parents work and do so without any complains to anyone. Expressing your qualms meant a lecture on how ungrateful you were of everything that your parents provided for you and being unable to say something in your defence because then you 'd be talking back like an ungrateful little brat.

This to-be marriage with Aemond was something set up entirely by your mother and his. Your mother couldn't wait to rub it in everyone's face that her beautiful, perfect daughter, her heiress was about to get married to one of the most handsome, and the richest bachelor in all of the continent, who had a stellar record in academics and was an expert in finance, and had no blemishes in his portfolio.

Turning this down would earn you a lifelong worth of taunts and lectures, so arguably this was better than that. Complete silence with a stranger you can trust, but not speak with. A stranger who would soon be your fiancé and put on a show for the tabloids to gossip about to give the reporters their content.

You think he hates you - he doesn't spare you one glance from his good eye - always keeping his sapphire-eyed side to you. Aemond had lost that eye in childhood, back when you were still fascinated by the pristine marble floors of hotels. There had been some accident involving his nephews from his stepsister, and your mother had sent her condolences to Alicent with some jewels. The current sapphire that he wore was the latest gift from your mother for announcing your cold courtship.

.

It's a few evenings later and you are visiting Aemond's penthouse in the heart of King's Landing to give the paparazzi a show, to give the tabloids something to gossip about the next morning and afternoon, when you are planning to leave.

You quite enjoy the music and the open bar, hating the strong taste of vodka, but not quite getting enough of it. You definitely aren't sober anymore, moving to the fast tempo of the music that you cannot distinguish - you only know that it makes you feel powerful like a divine goddess waiting to unleash her rage.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get back from work before getting drunk?" Aemond says. His voice is deep and it makes you shiver, for you have never heard him speak more than one word. "I wonder what my mother sees in you," he grumbles. "Whatever she does, I don't."

You give him the finger, and close your eyes to get lost in the music again. You really don't care what he thinks of you, but something in his words was straight up insulting.

"No words to say now?" He snarks.

"What is it that you pride yourself in, hm?" You ask, glaring at him. 

"I graduated with the top scores in my degree, I am the best finance manager and the best Westerosi F1 driver - " he starts to say, offended. For a moment you wonder if he's drunk too, but the condescending look in his darkened violet eye has you lashing out on him in rage.

"Yeah, big deal racer-boy."  You snap your fingers in front of his face, having to look up. "I was also the top scorer in my year - across all majors, I can hack into your finance system and bring it down and you wouldn't even know what happened. I run an NGO, I manage my mother's finances and I know how to stitch, embroider and cook. I can survive if left alone - but you'll start crying for your mother the moment you are left alone with no servants or money to take care of you. If anyone gets to act like a stuck up arrogant little bitch that should be me."

"Oh please, your mother was the one pushing for this marriage because she knows you are incapable of anything,"  He snaps at you. You are nose to nose, and you want to smack him hard across the face, but you hold back that grudge.

"You know what your beloved mother told me before we started all this?" You challenge. "Do you? DO YOU?" you exhale before saying, "She said that there is no other woman who could possibly put up with this attitude of yours - that she knows you will not be able to survive on your own, you big man-child. Putting a little show on for the reporters doesn't make you a man."

You push him back and take the elevator, yelling a "Fuck you!" before the door closes and hides his comically scandalised face.

.

Trouble in paradise? It seems the most eligible bachelor in Westeros is free for taking again.

"What is this that the newspapers say," Your mother says, tone chiding. "Why would you leave in the middle of the night?" 

"I cannot stand Aemond, mother!" You complain. "I cannot stand him. If Alicent weren't so sweet, I'd never have agreed to this whole thing." 

"Sweetie, please. Think it over again." Your mother insists. 

"Consider this arrangement over if he doesn't apologise to me." You declare, glaring at your mother with untamed fury. And for once, she is rightfully terrified of your eldest daughter-rage. Your little brother supports you, making your point stronger. He can be a pain in the ass but he can also be helpful in times like these.

There is a gala event on the weekend, and your family friends from Little Kilton are invited. The Singh Family is here, as is your old friend Ravi. You hug him tightly and ask him about his girlfriend and the crimes that they uncovered together. He's giggly talking about his lovely girlfriend Pip, calling him Sarge and other cute names like that.

You want to be normal at that moment - not the daughter of diamond merchant and a luxury hotel chain owner, but a daughter of normal immigrants, with a boyfriend who can love you as Ravi loves his Sarge Pip. 

You are quite done with everything, and decide to dress in traditional clothes for the gala, opting for a rather fancy lehenga. You are going to dance tonight, flaunt your classical dancing skills with Ravi as your companion. Your outfits accidentally match with the similar shades of green and silken fabrics - Ravi clicks a selfie and sends it to his girlfriend, who instantly calls and you finally get to see her in her element. You see the way Ravi's eyes light up on seeing her, and a knife twists at your heart - because you'll never have anyone be this happy to see you.

Pip gushes about how pretty you look and how no one will notice Ravi with you in the room, and you share a good laugh at Ravi's pouty look, claiming he looked ravishing.

"Alright, we're there." Ravi says. "I'll call you when I get back, Sarge. Love you."

"Love you." Pip says before they hang up.

"You're so in love it's disgusting." You say, lips twisted in mock disgust. "Put a ring on it already." 

"That's the plan," He says with a dreamy smile. "I didn't come over just to see you, did I?"

"Ravi Singh!" You scream with your hand covering your mouth. "Oh my god, you absolute dork in love you can't be for real!"

"I hope she says yes." He sighs.

"Oh, she will." You declare. "I'll help you pick out the ring."

.

You told Ravi everything about Aemond and your situation with him, and the paparazzi didn't stop clicking pictures as your mom walked with you, with Ravi accompanying you. He's a little nervous, but he hides it well.

Once inside, you spot Alicent and Helaena, and introduce them to Ravi as your childhood friend and they are really welcoming of him. Alicent looks upset over her son's behaviour and apologises on his behalf, but you lie and tell her that's fine. Your mother can break her heart later gently if her son fails to prove himself worthy to you.

You spot Aemond's silver head in the corner of your eye as you walk away from Alicent and Helaena, and grab Ravi's wrist and have him look at your former-soon-to-be fiancé. 

"He looks like an elitist snob," Ravi comments.

"You're not wrong," you say.

"I think jealousy would do him some good," Ravi says. "Let's go get changed, I believe our performance is in an hour. Don't you need t0o much time to get changed?"

"Let's go," You say, grinning. You whisper to your mother, actively avoiding looking at Aemond, not bothering to put up any civility for him. You'll never look at him in the face again if he doesn't apologise for his condescension. 

The beat of the classical music hits your veins, and you and Ravi are dancing to the rhythm, going where the music takes you. The whole crowd is silent, entranced by your performance. It's nothing too strenuous, but you manage to impress them. You trust him enough for the couple of lifts that you have, earning a loud applause as you finish your performance with you on one knee on the right of the stage and Ravi in identical position on the left.

You are panting heavily as you get off the stage as the applause slowly quiets down, changing back into your magnificent green lehenga before going out to get some fresh air. The gardens are impeccably maintained, with trimmed bushes and perfectly shaped trees, the clean air replenishing the stale one in your lungs, making you relaxed after the costing performance.

You take a seat on a bench under a tall tree, in relative isolation as you catch your breath.

A scowl curves your beautiful face as you hear the sound of your name in Aemond's quiet, deep voice, wondering what more he could possibly have to say to you.

"What business have you got here?" You bitterly ask.

"You were amazing back there," He attempts.

"I am aware, thank you." You say, still refusing to look at him. "I had a great partner with me."

"Speaking of a partner, who is he?" Aemond asks.

"None of your business anymore," You snap.

"I just want to talk," He tries again.

"There's nothing there to talk," you stop him. "You made it pretty clear that I am not worth your time or attention."

"It was foolish of me to say that." He amends.

"Yet, that is what you thought was the truth." You say, looking ahead at the bushes in front of you.

"I'd have danced if you asked me to," He confesses, changing routes.

"You left no room for questions," You counter. "No self respecting person would ask something of you after only receiving one word or one syllable response for more than a month. And as a self respecting person I don't deem you a fit partner."

"And he is?" Aemond asks, you can hear in his voice - the anger, the strain that he has in his jaw.

"Surely," You tease, voice deadpanned. "Much better than you, definitely."

"What do you want me to do?" Aemond finally caves in, sighing.

"I don't know, maybe your top of the major brain should have the answers," You snap again. Your glare and voice have bite, but you do not give him the satisfaction of facing him. The warmth of his body comes at your side as he takes a seat beside you and lets out a long sigh.

"Look, I know it was foolish of me to say what I did," He started. "I want to ask for your forgiveness."

"You've not given me any reason to trust you," you say. “How can I forgive you if I know nothing about you?"

"We ought to change that then." Aemond decides. "Let me take you out sometime."

"You had all the time in the world to take me out, yet…" you trail off.

"I had been a fool," He sighs, rubbing his face. "A stuck up arrogant little bitch, as you'd rightfully put."

"What changed?" You ask, finally turning to look at him. Aemond's usual scowl is replaced with a soft, pleading crease in his brow. His lilac eye is uncharacteristically soft - you can swear that he has tears in both his eyes - the sapphire one and the intact one. "Please don't tell me you are doing this because your mom asked you to."

"She doesn't know what happened," Aemond confesses, his voice dropping down to a whisper. "I just needed to hear what you told me the other day."

"And?" You prompted.

"I have always thought you to be insanely beautiful," Aemond confesses with a hesitant sigh. "But today you look divine, crafted patiently by the Seven themselves."

"Hmm, go on." You say with a cheeky grin, and Aemond chuckles. This the first time you ever heard him laugh, the first time you have ever seen him smile. He has a pretty smile and his laugh is one of the most pleasing sounds to your ears.

"I was intimidated by you, to be honest." He confesses. You have never heard him sound so vulnerable, exposed, and you realise that you are rather fond of it. "You're this insanely talented, beautiful woman who has her life together with everything sorted and I don't think I have ever learned how to keep up a conversation."

“You big, foolish man,” you press your lips together, inhaling a deep breath. “That degree is of no  use, you should return it. How can you manage finance without knowing proper communication?”

“Maybe you can help me with that,” He says with a smile. He has dimples. 

“I’d like that,” You nod.

“I’ll pick you up at seven, tomorrow?” He asks.

“Why wait?” you shrug.

[biblioklept-writes]

Delicate

Part 3 to Stargirl and Daydream (Modern!Aemond x Reader)

A/N: This is the final part you guys! I might do something in-universe for this later, but for now this is it. Sorry this is a little rushed, I couldn't find words to write </3

Summary: The Targaryen siblings are in India and who is better travel company than you?

Alternatively, Aemond's siblings fully tease him for his not-so-little crush on you.

Word Count: 3.2 k

Series Masterlist | HOTD Masterlist

When Helaena informed you that she and her brothers had been planning to visit India, you were over the moon with joy. You animatedly told your mom, who offered that they could stay over the boys could crash in one room and Helaena could crash with you. Since Aegon was also coming with them, you refused, saying that they were ultra rich and maybe they wouldn’t like staying in your humble house - which was also partly true. And they were arriving today, in a couple of hours.

You dab the blush onto your cheek, getting ready for a family friend’s wedding. You asked your parents to stop by the hotel they were staying in for a short while before heading over to the wedding, and here you were trying to get your eyeliner right because how could you not be extra at a desi wedding?

Helaena had already landed by the time you left your house in a rush, not attempting to style the dupatta with the black sequined lehenga that you wore. The blouse was short, stopping a little below your boobs in a tube-top-esque fashion and long heavy matching skirt. Your jewellery was of fine white gold and long stone earrings. You even wore a silvery bun cuff on your effortlessly-messy updo.

Your parents waited for you outside of the extravagant hotel as you searched for any platinum blond hair. The silver bangles on your wrist clink as you lift your skirt a little to run to the reception, asking about Helaena. You were out-of-place here in the rich-people place, but presently you didn’t give a fuck.

The receptionist gives you a once over, but is polite enough to guide you to the second floor on the left section. Rooms 2L09-2L12. The cost of one room would be more than the rent of houses out there, you think as you step out of the lift. The floor is polished marble so smooth that you can see yourself reflected.

To your luck, you spotted Aemond first, standing on a fork to your left, and rushed your heart beating in your chest. But Helaena stepped out of the fork too, speaking with the bellboy and you called her name. The siblings turned at the sound of your voice, eyes wide as they took in your appearance. 

You run into Helaena’s open arms and squeeze her. You couldn’t believe that they were right here in the flesh. “Gods, I am so happy to see you!” you squealed. She is dressed in a comfortable yellow tee and shorts, looking very tired but happy.

“Me too!” Helaena said, stepping away. Seemingly had enough of close contact for a month. “You look…”

“Magnificent, per usual.” A smooth voice adds, making you look at the polished marble. “Hi,” he says again, the sound of your name on his tongue sickly sweet. You want to hug him too, but don’t think it would be appropriate in front of his sister.

“Hi, Aemond,” you said, finally finding the courage to look up at him. Today, he’s dressed in a black polo shirt tucked in his khaki trousers. No less formal than the turtleneck and suit you had seen him the other time. His silver hair is half up in a little ponytail. An image of rubbing yourself against him, but force it away.

“Come in,” Helaena holds your wrist and drags you into her suite. “Aemond, you can join us too, just sort that out.”

A ghost of a smile graces Aemond’s features, his one eye half closed. As you entered the magnificent suite. You repeatedly told yourself to not stare. This one suite was bigger than your whole house. And from what you could tell, this was for Helaena alone. It’s good that I didn’t invite them over. “Where are you headed to after this?” Helaena asks, not-so-discreetly eyeing you.

“Oh, a wedding.” You say. “The son of my father’s colleague is getting married.”

“You look like you’ll outshine the bride.” Helaena says.

“Not a chance,” you say. “Honey, there’s no way you can outshine a desi bride, on her own wedding of all places. If it was one of my cousins getting married, I’d have taken you. You should see at least one desi wedding.”

“I’ll be certain to attend yours,” Helaena teases with a suggestive glint in her eyes. 

“Of course,” You grin, not giving into her teasing antics. “I wouldn’t dream of getting married in your absence,”  

“Helaena, where is Aeg- ” A voice that you don’t recognise calls, stopping at the sight of you. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were expecting company.”

“Hello,” you say, looking at the young boy with the signature Targaryen silver hair and purple eyes. He holds a certain innocence and self-confidence and you want to smother him with affection like one of your little cousins. “You must be Daeron,”

“Yeah, wow.” He says, as if he is struggling to find words. “Hi. You must be Y/N.”

You smile, stifling a laugh, but Helaena full on bursts out laughing. “Not you too, Daeron. Didn’t you want to ask her about computer science?”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” Daeron shakes his head, and composes himself. “Hello Y/N, it is great to meet you. People have told me to come talk to you about Computer Science. You seem like the best one out there.”

“That is a big fat lie,” You say. “But I can try to help you with anything. Tell me, what grade are you in?”

“Eleventh Grade, starting after the holidays.” He proudly says. “I still have to fill out my forms though.”

“You can talk later about the boring stuff,” Helaena says. “Come Y/N, tell me what have you been up to? You looked so lovely in the pictures you posted last night.”

“Nothing, actually. I was at home getting bored so I dressed up.” You tell her. “Also, I am currently in a time crunch and have only fifteen minutes before my parents start getting angry at me. We have to be there early so we can leave early.”

“Oh, that’s sad.” Helaena sighs. “I thought you could stay over for tonight, with me. It would be so much fun!”

“I’ll ask my mom about that,” you say, grinning awkwardly. 

“Daeron, take some good pictures of us,” Helaena orders her littlest brother, handing out her phone. “If they are not good, I’ll beat your arse.”

Aemond is running up the stairs as fast as his long legs can to get some time to meet you. He knows you are in a rush and doesn’t want to make you wait, but you are already leaving Helaena’s room and waving her bye as he reaches the fork end. Daeron’s little head peeks out from Helaena’s suite, all shy waving at you. You flash his siblings your beautiful smile and turn, finally facing him.

An endearing blush dusts your cheeks as you spot him, smiling coyly.

“Hello again,” you say. “We didn’t get to speak at all.”

“Let me walk you out,” He offers, eager to spend any moment with you even though he is exhausted. To his eye, you are a glowing goddess, he wants to whisper sweet nothings in your ears, tell you how divine he thinks you are, but he holds back.

“What a gentleman,” you say, “Your mum would be so proud,”

“That’s the goal,” he chuckles softly. “So… you’d remember that I told you Professor Leyland assigned me Indian History as my project topic for this year, do you have any suggestions for a suitable location?”

“Well… it depends on what period of history you want to study.” You explain. “If you are more interested in the Delhi Sultanate and the Mughal Empire, Delhi and Agra would be good places to start. If you want to go back and study ancient civilisation, southern parts of India are favourable. I’d personally like you to go to Jaipur - it has a blend of both the rajput and mughal styles and a widely accessible resource base for your project work. Also, I have never been to Jaipur myself and would love to travel with you.” you winked at him towards the end, earning an endearing blush.

“Well, I must visit Jaipur then,” Aemond says, bumping into your shoulder lightly. “If such pleasant company awaits me,”

You were back at the reception now and hugged Aemond quickly before you left, smiling at him over your shoulder. He stands there, a rare blush colouring his pale cheeks crimson. She smells like the best fruits, he thought. 

“Did you have a good time?” Daeron asks, winking as Aemond returned. 

“Peachy,” Aemond quips, sitting down. He cannot stop smiling, still feeling the remnants of the hug.

“I didn’t think she’d be that beautiful.” Daeron sighs. “I forgot how to speak! Helaena, her pictures don’t do her beauty any justice.”

“Hey folks, what’s going on?” Aegon asks, leaning on the bathroom’s door frame. “I heard your little girlfriend came to see you, Aemond. You speak with her? You’re positively glowing.”

“Oh shut up, Aegon.” Aemond sighs, leaning back against the couch. “You got the pool view room now, did you not? Stop spoiling my mood.”

“The glow of a person in love!” Aegon says in a sing-song voice, swaying like a madman. Daeron joins him too, singing along with him. “The glow of love suits my brother so well. I’m in love - the beautiful, intelligent y/n - has stolen my precious heart and I cannot live without - ”

“Don’t you have anything else to do?” Aemond sighs, accepting defeat. He rubs his cold hands over his face in a weak attempt to gain some composure. “Must you torture me like this?”

“I am sure he is not in love yet,” Helaena muses, suggestively looking at them. “He’s not yet seen her play chess… Or the game that she designed.”

“She designed a chess game?!” the three brothers said simultaneously, incredulous.

“It’s a work in progress,” Helaena giggles, looking at their wide eyes. To Aemond she says, “Are you in love now, little brother?”

“I just might be,” He sighs again, falling on the couch. “My sweet Y/N.”

“The glow of a person in love,” all his three siblings repeated in that sing-song voice he loved to loathe. “Someone is falling in love,”

“I hate my life,” he muttered. I love these little shitheads, but I could also kill them.

.

It is now a good four days later that you stand in Helaena’s suite in the extravagant hotel, as she packs the last moment travel supplies - pads, tampons and a whole lot of paper towels and paper soap. You have your own bags ready for the trip - you suggested renting a car for the trip so it would be safer and easier to travel, the distance wasn’t too much and you’d be able to reach the hotel at nearly the same time. Also it was cheaper and you could carry more luggage.

You were surprised that your parents allowed you to go, but then again you were living half-way across the world most of the time, they probably trusted you.

Aemond is helping Aegon pack up, and Daeron sits on the couch outside Helaena’s bedroom, scrolling through his phone. Then in a rush all of you are ready and sitting at the reception with five minutes to spare. Aemond is doing one final check, listing items with the potential to be forgotten - chargers, earphones, phones, notebooks, pens, camera, soap, sanitizer, water bottles, map, google translate, watch, hair ties, comb, skin and hair care pouch, brushes, toothpaste and Aegon.

“You’re such a dad,” you commented, chuckling. 

His pale cheeks turn a beautiful crimson at your chuckle as his siblings also joined in with their snickers. “Well, someone has to be the responsible adult here.” He says in defence. “Daeron is too young, Helaena is probably watching bug videos on her phone, worry isn’t a good look on you and… Aegon.”

“What did I even do?” Aegon puts his hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “I don’t do anything and he still treats me like this, you see, Y/N?”

“That is the problem, Aegon,” Aemond sighs. “Anyways. Do we have everything?”

“Yes, Dad,” Daeron exasperatedly sighs. 

The drive to Jaipur was relatively peaceful, the siblings keeping their fights to a minimum. And you got to sit between Helaena and Aemond, gladly leaning in to his chest as you lazily spoke with Helaena. His large hand is on your knee, gently caressing and comforting. He’s so warm - it would be so easy to let everything go and just fall asleep on this human heater.

“Y/N!” Daeron yelled from the front seat. “Helaena told us that you are building a chess game! Tell us about it. What did you use?”

“Oh, just Unity and C#,” you say. At Aegon and Aemond’s confused expressions, you add, “Unity is a game development software. Anywho - it’s not ready to be used yet. There’s many errors and my chess proficiency seems to end there.”

“I am certain Aemond can assist you with that,” Aegon said, sitting in the back seat. “He’s quite the chess prodigy himself.”

“I have never beat him, not even when he was drunk.” Daeron adds.

“Are you?” You cock an eyebrow at Aemond looking up at the rare, easy smile on his face. “I could certainly use that skill set,”

“I’ll be glad to help you,” Aemond says. His heart thumps a little faster under your ear and you can’t help but smile. It was so easy falling into this routine.

.

They had arranged for the stay in another extravagant hotel - it had everything that you could imagine. The toiletries there were more expensive than your entire closet, you were certain of that. Even after your insistence that you get a normal room and not a suite - it cost like your monthly expenditure in King’s Landing - the Targaryen siblings booked you your own suite reassuring you that it wasn’t much. Each time you think that you understand just how filthy rich they are, they pull a tactic like this and it turns out they are even richer. Surely not all of their money was legal, was it?

You spent three days in the Pink City, visiting the Hawa Mahal, the City Palace and a one-day long trip to Amber Palace. Aemond was deeply interested in the history of each place and took down notes, asking you to translate whatever he couldn’t understand. He asked the local guides who were more than eager to explain the old tales to him - now that their pocket was full - and Aemond noted every last word that they said. You took the liberty and recorded the guide, knowing it would certainly be helpful in the future. 

And you took a lot of pictures - so many with Helaena, Aemond, Daeron and even Aegon, who was a lot nicer when not inebriated. Your gallery was full of the targaryen siblings now - most occurring of them being Aemond. You loved your bug girl to death, but the way Aemond made your mind and body react was totally different. When sharing time came, you only shared a few of the shots that you had taken - you didn’t want to seem too weird with copious amounts of pictures that you had of him.

The high walls of Amer Kila and the gorgeous ceilings on the homely interior were in stark contrast to the intimidating stone walls on the outside. You were positively exhausted by walking all day, admiring the centuries old work visiting each room that you were permitted to see. Aemond takes so many pictures - of each room, of you in there, of his siblings - and you secretly click a picture of him. You think it’s endearing how invested he is in the history of this palace, how his one keen eye wanders about the room, drinking in every detail

You think then, he would have been too perfect, so the gods took his eye. It doesn’t matter that to you he is still a divine beauty, a fallen angel - something seraphic about his lilac eye and the sapphire in the other, to the world and himself he is imperfect because he is missing an eye. 

It is way past midnight when you return to Jaipur. You bid everyone goodnight, but linger with Aemond, not giving a fuck about the cleaning lady of the corridor. You are sure that this isn’t the first late-night rendezvous she is witnessing.

Aemond’s good eye scans the hallway, gently wrapping his hand around your wrist as he pulls you to his suite and you stand there in the middle of the massive room with dimmed lights, looking at his ethereal face, admiring the way the Gods have chiselled him - you can tell they took their time crafting this fine specimen of the male species - and you don't hold yourself back as you rise to your toes. Don’t attempt to pull back as he leans down to you, don’t pull back when his warm breath hits your face.

You think he smells like the chocolate he had been sharing with you in the car as his lips are a hair’s breadth away from yours, and wonder if your mouth smells like that.

You don’t stop him when he brings his hands to the sides of your face, holding you delicately as if you are made of glass. You melt when his warm, sweet mouth collides with yours - you think you are dead and in heaven, or in a daze. Your hands grip at his narrow waist, holding him like he is the only person in the world, the only connection that you have to reality. 

You pulled back for a breath, and then a switch seemed to have snapped in place as your mouths collided again - much harsher, tongues fighting and teeth clashing as you were desperate to taste more of him - his beautiful mouth tasting of the chocolate that you had just eaten. You are standing on his feet, his hands now on your waist and yours in his silken hair, tugging at it and he lets out a moan.

Aemond is snapped off his daze by his own moan, and he rests his forehead against yours, panting. “This was the best fucking kiss of my life,” he mutters on your lips.

“Mine too,” you breathe against him. “You’re the best kiss of my life, Aemond.”

The sound of your name on his smooth tongue and breathy voice is enough to send shocks of arousal through your veins, but the both of you hold back, too exhausted from the day and too wrapped up in the feel of each other’s mouth. 

“I want to be yours,” Aemond whispers. “Will you accept me as yours?”

“Only if you take me to be yours,” you say with a smile. 

You try to kiss once more, only to be interrupted by your own giggles. “You’re the prettiest little creature I have ever met,” he confesses.

“Right back at you,” you say, smiling widely. “The prettiest among men,”

“Will you stay here tonight?” He asks, voice small, hesitant. “I just want to sleep beside you.”

“Grab your change of clothes and let’s go to my room.” you whisper-giggle. “Wouldn’t want your siblings and my best friend to think we’re up to no good,”

He doesn’t let you go as he lets out a satisfied hum, gently swaying you both.

.

.

.

Tags:

@depressedperson88 @mrswhitethornbelikov

[biblioklept-writes]

Aemond x GOTEra!Reader

reposting this again because tumblr hates me and refuses to show up in the tags

HOTD Masterlist

With the word of King Joffrey's wedding, you have been invited to the Red Keep with your husband Lord Dayne. It has been a bit over two years since you had departed from King's Landing, and you now had a beautiful son. He is the most adorable baby you have ever seen with his father's pretty brown eyes and dark curls. With another one on the way, you feel very happy with your little family.

You have been given your old rooms, which you now share with your husband and your little boy, and reminisce the old days, the days before you met your husband and your ghost companion.

As heavy as your heart was on seeing him go, it was the best for Aemond and you could not deny your friend the opportunity of finally resting with him family, his lover and his dragon.

Your husband is gone for the afternoon attending court shenanigans and you get to spend the afternoon with your baby and his two nannies. You are in the early stage of pregnancy with another bundle of joy - but right now the only thing the babe gives you is sickness. It is unreasonable, you are embarrassed when the sickness hits and you dismiss the nannies so you could be sick in peace with just your baby boy.

You hand him his toys before leaving him unattended momentarily to throw up your hearty breakfast, mentally noting to send for your husband to get you some of the spicy pancakes (sorry for my desi readers out there) that the ship had served you. Lord Dayne must love me deeply to put up with my foolish cravings, you think, chuckling.

The sound of your toddler happily babbling away fills your ears and you smile - wiping the puke off your lips and putting a sugar cube in your mouth to wash off the acidic taste - and stay by the door for a moment to watch your little boy raise his fat little arms in the air and mimic a roar. You are pleasantly surprised - perhaps your tales about the Targaryens and their might dragons was rubbing off on him.

"Our child will be just as fond of history of the world as you are my darling," Your husband gives you his infamous dimpled smile. "A walking encyclopedia about the Targaryens by the time he learns to speak. Maybe he will even get a chance to meet your friendly ghost."

You had shrugged it off then, sighing heavily. Now you aren't so sure - your fat toddler raises his arms and stands up, giggling at something. Forcing the hope into the deepest parts of your heart, you enter your room.

"Aemond!" You gasp at the glowing apparition of the only friend you had had in the Red Keep - as sad as it was, your only friend here was a ghost. "How-?"

You noticed the difference from then and now - as opposed to the encounters a bit over two years ago his apparition is glowing and his solemn eye is glowing brighter than the moon - he has also gotten the opportunity to change, apparently, for now he is dressed in combat clothes and not in his leathers, his silky hair tied in a braid. He is joyous too.

"My Lady Dayne," your sapphire-eyed friend smiles brightly at you, and you are amazed by his smile. Aemond, too, has dimples. "It's a pleasure to see you again. Your son is the most charming babe I have ever seen."

Your son giggled at the compliment, and slowly strutted to you, pulling at your skirts and you carry your toddler in your arms, as he looks between you and the ghost. "He takes from his father," you softly say, your cheeks heating.

"I'd say he gets his charm from you, My Lady," Aemond says. "I hope you are happy to see me,"

"You have no idea!" You squeal before taking a seat on your bed. Even with the early stage of your pregnancy, your feet have already started to bother you and the heavy toddler in your arms does not help. "Come, have a seat. Tell me everything! Did you get to see your family? How is your mother, your sister? How are your brothers? Please tell me you saw Vhagar..."

You abruptly stopped on realizing that you kept asking him questions without even giving a break to answer. He is floating on the mattress, just like two years ago, watching you with a secretive smile on his hauntingly beautiful face. "I have been doing very well, my Lady." He softly answers. "To answer your questions, yes I did meet everyone. Vhagar was overjoyed to see me. I even got to meet her first rider - Visenya. That old woman is quite a force to be reckoned with. Aegon is doing well now, in afterlife. It's not as scary as it seems... Mother is just happy to be able to see all her children and grandchildren again - she suffered the most, among us."

There are tears in your eyes and you don't realize that you are crying until your baby boy starts wiping away your tears, holding your cheeks in his little hands. "Do my answers upset you, sweet Lady?" Aemond politely asks.

"Oh these are happy tears, I am happy you found your peace." You confess, quickly wiping away your tears. "It's just... well..."

"You are positively glowing with the child that grows in you," Aemond remarks. "This babe will look just like you, the loveliest of all."

Your cheeks heat up again, but this time you don't look away. "Have you been watching over me, Prince Aemond?"

"Oh, here and there." He shrugs. "I keep my ears open for any word that comes about you. I heard you were going to be present for the bastard's wedding so I came by to see you."

"You can't be calling the King such names," You whisper. "Even if they are whispered to be true."

"What are they going to do?" Aemond chuckled. "Execute me?"

"Wel..." you exhale with a foolish smile. "What do you do in your ghostly free time?"

"Oh, the usual," He says. "Spending time with Mother, and Ser Cole. My nephews are still so little, Maelor is only a little older than little Lord Dayne here."

"I am sorry," You softly said, reaching for the ghost out of instinct. Again, your hand passes right through him and you retract your hand, absently playing with your toddler's Dornish black curls.

"I'll tell you a secret," Aemond is conspiratorial. "Don't stay for the wedding feast. There's a not-so-sweet surprise planned."

"What?" You ask, confused.

"You'll hear plenty about it," Aemond assures. "I don't think you should witness that - given your delicate condition."

"...Okay?" you mumble. "I have always wanted to attend a king's wedding, but I will not."

"Just trust me this once." Aemond says. "You will not regrets skipping this one."

"If you insist," You absently play with your baby boy's hair.

"I must take my leave now," Aemond says. "It was great to see you again, my sweet Lady Dayne."

"I missed you, my friendly ghost." You giggle, and your son giggles with you, looking intently at the ghost. "Did you see your lady?"

"My lady has chosen rebirth," He sighs. "Not much to do there." He can see the question in your eyes and he does not hesitate to say, "My son has chosen rebirth too, apparently."

"They could not bear your absence." You softly said. "I certainly missed you dearly."

"You are too kind, my Lady." Aemond says. "I wish the best for you and your family. May we meet again someday. Farewell."

"Farewell, Aemond."

Aemond Tags:

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