#and aemond with freckles is a nice touch

[theship-thewalrus]

waking up to you

prince aemond targaryen x gender netural!reader

what mornings are like with your husband, aemond targaryen

word count: 459 words reading time: about 3 minutes warnings: n/a

The first morning rays seep into your large room shared room, sneaking past the curtains that try their very best to block out the sun. The warmth on your face lulled you awake, though the feeling was nice the light in your eyes was not. For the first time in months, there were no meetings to attend or letters to read or write. You could simply sit in bed this morning and not worry about waking up and getting things done.

Rolling over in a feeble attempt to stay asleep, to grasp onto the last bits of your dream. But the soft touch to your face as a gentle hand moves a wild strand of hair from your face. The motion caused you to crack our eyes open slightly to see who it was. On normally days your lover would leave you in the large bed alone. His spot had long since gone cold, the duties of prince keeping him from your shared bed.

Yet as you crack your eyes open you are met with the sight of Aemond. There was such a content smile on his face as he looks down at you, simply taking in your half-awake appearance. Your expression began to mirror his own, taking in his form illuminated by the morning sun. It was such a magical sight, the man looking truly like a god.

"Good morning, my love." His words were soft as to ease you out of your slepy state. White hair was smoothed back to its usual perfection, showing just truly how long he had been awake. Watching you sleep like some creep instead of your lover whom you adored. His eye held not trace of sleep as it casts over your body, taking note of how the blankets hugged you. It was not often Aemond simply got to stare at your without other noticing him do it. To simply gaze upon your beauty without the worry of someone seeing and saying something. For his mother to tell him off or his brother to make some stupid remark/

If ever asked, he would mention how his favourite time of the day is being able to lie in bed with you. Shuffling forward a little more, you rested your head on Aemoond's chest. Turning softly to hide your face in the crock of his neck, trying to block out the sun rays that have woken you.

It pulls a chuckle from him as one of his lanky arms wraps around you and pulls you closer. "Morning," Your voice was muffled but he was able to hear you loud and clear. Despite wanting nothing more than to gaze upon your face like he had been before you awoke. To simply commit all the little indents, freckles and moles to memory. He knew you needed some rest, and who was he to deny his lover of their wishes?

[whenthesnowfelloverwinterfell]

Vatic - Chapter I "Counting My Footsteps"

Series Description : The youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent grows up split between the two sides of her family. With dreams plaguing her sleep of people she does not know, and a war looming ahead of her. She will be forced to choose between the two sides of her family, between the love for her brother, and the loyalty for her sister. 

Chapter Description : As a young girl, Y/n Targaryen goes through her day, consistently taking her mother into account while making every decision.

Warnings : none in this chapter

Pairing : eventual Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader ( cannon typical targcest idk what to tell you )

Word Count : 2.4k

A girl of only eight. Silver hair long enough to reach her bottom from her mother’s refusal to have it cut by any of the septas. pale skin lightly freckled from her time out in the gardens running with her brother while their sister sat and played with bugs in the dirt. 

Her night gown had hightower embroidery on it. the sigil of the southern house on either side of ther sleeves, with two dragons facing the towers on both sides. the thread in the same cream color as the gown, blending in. 

“What dress do you wish to wear today, my dear.” 

Her mother’s voice was lost to her as she sat on the stone floor, tracing the white grout between the stones with her finger, for some reason, she could perfectly picture it stained with blood. 

She was never into the macob. Never into the deep cruelty of man, or interested in even the idea of dark events like Aegon was. And she was never much interested in the same things as her sister, Helaena. No, this was just an image that sparked itself perfectly in her mind. She could almost hear a woman’s voice layered as well. 

“Y/n, my love.” Alicent’s voice finally caught her attention this time, making her look up at her mother, a maid by her side with two different dresses draped over her arm. One a deep red shade with black embroidery, and the other a deep green dress with gold embroidery. “Did you want to pick your dress?”

The red dress had caught her eye, seeing the embroidery of a dragon on the bottom of the skirt, and the silver clasps at the neck of the dress in the shape of dragons. It was pretty, and it was the one she wanted to reach out and touch. “The green one.” Y/n spoke, knowing to expect the small smile that come across her mother’s face. 

A girl of only eight, and she knew what would make he mother the most happy. 

“Come here, darling.” Alicent held her hand out for Y/n to come join her. The young girl pushed herself off of the floor and rushed to her mother’s side as Alicent wrapped a secure arm around Y/n’s shoulders, and Y/n leaned into her touch. It was rare that Alicent was physically affectionate with her children, and it was no secret that when she was, it was frequently affection for her youngest daughter and her second son. 

“The green shall look lovely on you,” Y/n nodded in agreement as the maid set down the red and black dress, now holding the green in her arms, waiting to help the youngest princess dress herself. “Alright, get dressed.”

Alicent pulled away from Y/n, giving her a tightlipped smile before walking to the door and leaving, closing it behind her to allowed the maid to dress Y/n. 

While her mother was right that the green looked nice, Y/n was dissatisfied with it. But she only remained quiet as the maid pinned Y/n’s hair up. It was a rule her mother maid. That because of how rambunctious Y/n was, she needed to have her hair up to prevent it from getting tangles and getting leaves and sticks stuck to the silver strands. 

“Alright, Princess,” the maid started, resting her heavy calloused hands on Y/n’s shoulders, weighing them down. “You’re ready for the day, go on now.” 

A grin came to her face as she bolted to the door, opening and looking both ways down the hall, Ser Willis Fell standing outside her door, having not noticed her peaking out. Down the hall in the opposite direction, she spotted he brother.

“Aemond!” She shouted, bursting out from the doorway, running towards her older brother. hardly even a year older than herself. 

Aemond turned at the sound of his name being called, and at the sight of his sister running towards him, his face lit up. 

Y/n could hear Ser Willis following her with heavy feet on the stone, but she didn’t care that she’d left the door to her chambers open, and she didn’t care that she was grabbing the attention of everyone in the hall. It was Aemond. Other than Rhaenyra, Y/n loved him the most out of her brothers and sisters. 

As Y/n neared Aemond, he opened his arms to greet her with a hug, which she happily ran into, sending him stumbling back a bit at the sheer force. “Good morning.” He laughed. holding onto her as she rested her head on his shoulder, her own arms wrapped around the back of his neck and shoulders. 

“After we break our fast we should go to the gardens!” Y/n suggested excitedly pulling away from the hug but leaving her hands on his arms, practically buzzing like a bumble bee in the air. The youngest daughter of the Targaryen dynasty was nothing if not energetic. 

“I can’t.” Aemond suddenly seemed disappointed. “Father is making me train with Aegon and our nephews.” 

Only eight and she could sense the rivalry between her favored brother and her beloved nephews. There weren’t many children in the keep except for those whelped by Alicent and Rhaenyra. Y/n was a very social girl, she needed to be around people. And she had never once had a rivalry with Lucerys or Jacaerys. But Aemond did. Aegon, however, appeared to be friendly with the Velaryon boys. At least as friendly as a fourteen year old disaster of a teenage boy could be friendly with anyone. 

She knew that Aegon and the Velaryon boys were mean to Aemond. And as defensive of her brother as Y/n was, Aemond didn’t like when she would try. something about how it only ever made things worse for him. A little girl trying to protect him, a boy. 

“What about after?” She asked eagerly, fiddling with the velvet fabric of his tunic. 

“I do not know what Ser Criston wants us to do after training. . . You could practice your archery! Ser Criston has been asking when You’ll return to it.” 

Y/n shrugged a bit.

“Children,” A woman’s voice called from down the hall. 

Aemond’s violet eyes, and Y/n’s green darted down the hall to be met with the septa, who stood there expectantly. “Come, it is time to break your fast, everyone else is waiting”

The two children followed the septa to the dining room. Occasionally, Y/n wished that their sister and her family would join them for meals more often. But Rhaenyra hardly ever did. The three branches of Targaryens had their meals far apart from one another. Rhaenyra and her family would have their meals in their wing of the keep, while Rhaenyra’s younger siblings would have meals with one another with their parents and grandsire. Their uncle Daemon? Y/n hadn’t a clue where the man was. She had never met him. She knew of him, and that his wife, Lady Laena, was Laenor’s sister. 

The thought of her family was on her mind during the entire quiet meal. Their kingly father being content to read and make hushed one sided conversation with his wife and mother of his children, while Helaena quietly ate, making idle and curious conversation with their youngest brother, Daeron. Aegon dramatically groaned every time someone spoke too loud for his liking, holding his head as he struggled to eat the food in front of him. All the while Aemond and Y/n ate peacefully next to each other. 

And now with the young girl’s bow drawn, facing the practice dummy, her feet as far apart as Ser Criston had shown her. A silver strand of hair fallen out from its updo as she let the arrow loose, watching as it impaled the practice dummy with a ‘thunk,’ hitting the wooden pole inside the dummy. 

The voices of the four boys on the other side of the court yard caught her attention. looking at her brothers and the Velaryon boys, she could feel her blood boil with envy. Her mother would never allow her to do what the boys did. Participate in activities such as sword fighting. It was not ladylike. Archery was a solitary activity. The only risk she took whenever she nocked an arrow, was that of a bruised finger or a small cut. 

With a sigh, the young princess approached the dummy, grabbing hold of the shaft and cresting, pulling it out of the dummy, struggling for a moment as it was stuck in the wood. Alicent only allowed Y/n to practice with one arrow. And if it broke, then that meant her practice was over.

“Does your mother not consider it to be ladylike for you to swing a sword?” The familiar voice had Y/n turning around with such force she could feel her hair beginning to loosen from its hold. 

Rhaenyra stood with a small smile on her face, a red coat over her shoulders as she stood on the steps of the entry hall, her hands clasped in front of her. black beading and embroidery along the collar of her coat and gown, a strip of gold threading along her outer skirts, framing the intricate pattern of her foreskirt. 

“Sister,” She greeted with a grin. 

“You lost a tooth since I last saw you, little sister.”

Y/n nodded fervently. “Father said you lost the same one as me at my age,” Y/n opened her mouth and with her dirty index finger pointed to the vacant space in her gums where her canine tooth had fallen out over three days ago.

Rhaenyra stepped closer and leaned down a bit to get a better view. “Well. . . I suppose he may be right.” Y/n closed her mouth with a small smile and looked up at her older sister. 

With a cautious hand, Rhaenyra brushed away the stray strand of silver hair that had hung in front of Y/n’s face. “Do you truly wish to learn only archery?” She questioned. 

Only eight, and Y/n nodded because she knew her mother would not want her to wield a steel sword. 

“I see how you look at the boys, Dae.” Rhaenyra used her nickname for her little sister, cupping the little girl’s chin. Jace and Luke wouldn’t mind having you there. I’m sure Aemond wouldn’t either.” 

Y/n’s eyes looked past Rhaenyra and toward Ser Criston and the princes, practicing with their sparring swords, steel silver breastplates on as they circled and eyed one another. Aegon already had a bruise forming on his left hand. 

“Mother would mind.” Y/n looked back at her sister with a defeated look upon her face.

Sadness flashed across Rhaenyra’s face. Her spare hand that wasn’t holding Y/n’s chin reached down to grab Y/n’s hand that was holding her bow and arrow. Rhaenyra squeezed her younger sister's hand with a type of motherly affection that Y/n only ever truly got from her sister. 

“Well. . . If you must be stuck with archery, then I shall ensure we get you more arrows.” 

At that, Y/n beamed up at her sister, bouncing on her tiptoes. “Really?” She questioned, her hair continuing to loosen with every movement she made. If she had more arrows, it meant the less likelihood that her arrows would constantly break from overuse. It meant more hours of practice, and the chance to truly be proficient in the only weapon her mother would allow.

“Your mother hardly allows you into the dragonpit, has not given you the chance to bond with a dragon. You took up archery as a compromise to not follow the boys to the dragonpit. . . We can get you more arrows so it is a more worthy pursuit fit for a princess. . .” Rhaenyra went quiet, and looked over her shoulder towards Ser Criston and the princes. Y/n watched as the knight and her sister met gazes. After a moment, Rhaenyra looked back down at Y/n with a kind smile, now reaching both of her hands to hold the back of Y/n’s head to hold her gaze. “I shall speak to Ser Criston. I’m certain he knows someone who can train you with a bow like the princes train with swords.” 

That night, as Y/n walked back to her bed chambers, the maids already waiting by her opened door, her guard following five paces behind her, the clanking of his metal armor now just a background ambiance to her. But she had stopped when she had turned the corner, to see the maids waiting there, one maid going into the room with a steaming bucket of water. 

As Y/n took a step down the hall, she thought to herself, one.

She didn’t know she did. But she continued. With the next step she then thought, two. 

four

five

six

She counted until she reached fifty-seven. It took her fifty-seven steps to reach her door, and walk into the chambers where the maids were preparing her a bath. a fresh nightgown laid out over the footboard of her bed,  a wood stool next to her bath, with a metal tray atop it, jars and perfume bottles for her to choose from. 

“Elinor?” Y/n called out to the maid squatted by the fireplace poking at the small fire that had just been sparked. 

“May I use the bergamot and lemon oil tonight?” 

The dark haired maid smiled absentmindedly as she looked over at the princess and gave her a nod. “Of course, Princess.”

The bath was perfectly warm. The type of heat that Y/n welcomed. But as she sat in the tub, the maid behind her scrubbing at Y/n’s scalp with gentle fingers, Y/n couldn’t help but wonder. What was her mother going to think? 

There were many things that Alicent preferred her youngest daughter to do. She preferred when Y/n stayed inside the keep, she disliked when Y/n practiced archery, but had come to accept it. She preferred when Y/n practiced with only one arrow, Alicent preferred for Y/n to wear green, and preferred for her to speak the common tongue and not Valyrian. And Alicent preferred when Y/n smelled like peony oil. 

It was only more arrows, and a different scent. Y/n reminded herself, looking over to the wardrobe where two dresses hung. One of red silk, the other of green. They were for tomorrow. Y/n couldn’t upset her mother any further. The color green would soothe Alicent’s agitation over tomorrow. 

“Green brings out your eyes, my darling.” was what rang through the young girl’s mind as she stared at the two contrasting fabrics. Her heart longing for the red gown, but her wits telling her that the green would be the wise choice for the following day.

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