#dark!aemond targaryen x OC

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

Warnings - Family trouble, violence, father issues, general suffering, teenagers getting their ass beat by said individuals over 18, not proof read.

Author's note ● Essentially part two of the previous chapter, get ready for some major mischief next chapter.

Word Count ~ 5.4k+

Tags - @mamawiggers1980

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi ● vii● viii ● ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

ix - 'The Last Supper'

The supper had gone on in relative peace, a quiet contempt lingering in the background but mostly, it seemed the Blacks and Greens of House Targaryen stuck to their relative side when it came to conversation. A few passing crude comments from Aegon had won the glares of Visenya and her siblings, especially when they were targeted towards Jace and Baela’s betrothal, but a scattering of toasts, seemingly made in good will seemed to draw attention away from the brewing tension.

There were a few moments, Visenya might wonder if such contempt would erupt into something larger, however it seemed to be kept at bay by the King’s presence, most specifically after his speech which although seemed to harbour some kind of effect upon both the Queen and Rhaenyra – his words of familial love landed upon death ears of the younger members of House Targaryen. There was little love to rekindle, if there ever any to begin with – and the wounds that had been made had festered for so long that they had rotted into their very bones. There would be no reconciliation between the two Green Prince’s and the Black siblings. Of course, Princess Helaena being the odd one out in which no one seemed to have any bone to pick with her. It was that in which sparked Prince Jacaerys to offer the lonesome princess a dance. Most specifically after Helaena had made a toast, mentioning her brother-husband Aegon’s neglect.

Visenya had noticed the exchange between her two uncles as they watched their sister dance freely, with her brother. She’d never seen Heleana smile or laugh brightly; it was rather heartwarming in truth.

But such a scene had a dark shadow casted upon it, as Prince Aemond turned his body to face his sister, and Prince Jacaerys – his jaw hardened by the sight of one his half-sister's bastard spawn daring to make such a brazen gesture. However, Aemond’s glare would be brought to a halt, as in his illness, King Viserys grew weary, spawning all eyes to draw upon him as his wife, Alicent called for the old man to be taken back to bed to rest.

As Visenya gazed with a glimmer of sorrow within her eyes upon her withering Grandsire, she noticed the servants pass, holding what seemed to be but a rather large pig, stuffed with an apple in her mouth. The princess had always thought such a sight was particularly gruesome – even more gruesome than any bloodshed she had witnessed earlier that day.

It was a rather cruel gesture, to slaughter something then display it’s cooked corpse with little but an apple shoved into it's mouth. It hardly seemed appetising at all, it seemed brutal. She had supposed it was what she had liked so much about dragons, despite such chaos one could unleash, they were not brutal in the way men were. They do not require their meals be presented so prettily as to draw attention from the fact they had slayed a creature to feed. Death by dragonfire was quick, easy. No apple required.

Visenya’s thoughts were soon brought back to the supper as the small snicker of Lucerys was heard beside her. She followed his gaze as he looked upon the pig, then up to Aemond. One thought in her mind.

The Pink Dread.

The young prince Lucerys giggled again, and his eyes gleamed with mischief. He thought longingly to the prank he had pulled upon his uncle, it seemed after all these years he had forgotten the mischief that had been made in the name of poking fun at his uncle’s lack of a dragon in their youth.

Visenya’s face dropped for a moment, both in amusement and apprehension – as she noted the one eyed stare from across the table. Oh, he knew…

It was clear, Aemond was once again being mocked so subliminally – so underhandly that none else upon the table had noticed the smarmy flicker of Luke’s eyes, nor the raised brow of his harlot sister. The one-eyed Prince had grown rather adapt to people’s expressions, having become suspicious of them for most of his life from the troubles in his youth. The fact that the bastards before him have gotten away with so freely tormenting him, so openly maiming and disregarding him, made Aemond’s blood boil beyond the point of consolation. No, there would be no reassuring, he cannot just break bread and forgive the suffering he has endured. He would not stand for a bastard born of a whore Princess and her lesser House lover to continue to show him no respect. He would not dare to take the mocking of the boy who stole his eye, who was weak and craven. Born of lesser blood, lesser nobility – illegitimacy. Born of his mother’s constant whoring, and the lecherous men who indulged in it.  

Nor would he tolerate the half-brained Targaryen bastard beside him snickering in Aemond’s wake either. Another product of the degeneracy of his Uncle Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra. Another abomination to the House Targaryen name. Regardless of how fare Visenya’s face or big her tits – it was all artifice to cover the rotting wench beneath. All sorcery to distract men from the fact she was conceived in a brothel by way of sin, then pawned off as another man’s child. Though, at least she was a bastard of royal blood. At least she had Prince Daemon as a father and not some brute of the Riverlands. That saved her in some regard from Aemond’s ire – but it was not necessarily for anything other than his own envy. Visenya, unlike her brothers was less craven, she had not bothered to pretend to settle any dust between them. Not played into any idea they were capable of making amends. And the only one who had ever bothered to show him some level of acknowledgement, once.

Though he had tried to keep it at bay, he did oft think of his niece in their youth, the time she had found him crying in the Dragonpits. How she did, to some degree attempt to console his humiliation. He had also remembered how she once defended him against Aegon’s torment, how he had not returned the favour – yet… she for some reason unbeknownst to him, went out of her way to punish Aegon.

As he glared across from Visenya, his gaze still hard and temper still soaring, Aemond found himself grow more angered by this. Angered because it had amounted to nothing, amounted to him being pushed back into the dirt by her. Betrayed.

He felt a swarming sense of disgust, he was but a boy and she tricked him. Made him feel the beginnings of kinship or trust. Bewitched him into believing she thought him anything more than pathetic and weak. It was all an elaborate jest, all another way to mock him.

But when it finally came down to it, when she could have proven herself not a traitorous slut, more devoted to her Strong bastard half-brothers, then a Prince born of her House… Visenya had turned away. She had looked away as her snickering little brother ripped Aemond’s very eye from its socket. Looked away when Aemond had coiled upon the ground in pain, blood pooling from his face and she protected the boy. She protected Luke knowing what he had done. Knowing that she could have stopped her foul siblings from beating and maiming Aemond. And for that reason, all traces of the seeds of kinship and affection were lost between them.

She could rise above her bastardy, become a great Targaryen as I, or as her father. But she indulges in her own depravity as they all do.

Aemond’s eye then narrowed upon Luke who still had a vile smile upon his young face, he noted how the boy had let out a harsh snicker as he noticed Aemond’s rising irritation. His mind went from wrathful to blackened.

The bastard mocks me, yet he thinks me the same boy who shall swallow his pride and conceal his temper. They all mock me, yet they think I shall turn the other cheek by virtue of breaking bread and kinship of blood… all know what they are, Strong bastards. They are not of my blood. They do not look like my blood nor behave like my blood. They are stains, lesser bred stains, who mock me to conceal the fact it is they who are outsiders, they who do not belong at a dragon’s table, nor their voices being heard by the realm. They are rats spoiling our line. They are the defect that spoils Targaryen blood. What irony they are 'Strong' when their legitimacy as royals is so weak.

Before Aemond could prevent himself, his temper had made his fist fly upon the table sending him to stand swiftly. He raised his goblet and then,

“Final tribute. To the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise...” His soft voice silencing all idle chatter, all music swiftly stopping and the dancing Helaena and Jacaerys, too, stopped in their tracks.

Aemond watched with satisfaction as the heads upon the table had turned, he relished in their wide eyes, their bated breath. “Hm..” His eye widened, like a shark upon smelling blood, his softened his voice further, “…Strong.”

Visenya took a breath out, at that word. He must think himself terribly clever. She was already exasperated by the scene before her, she couldn’t even be angry at this point for it was only a matter of time before the pretence would be done away with. She sat back, noting the way her little brother’s face had dropped. The princess let her hand fall to Luke’s wrist, as he placed his goblet down, preventing him from exacerbating the situation.

As a bitter silence fell over the table, Queen Alicent brought her hands to her face in concern, her tone low, warning, “Aemond.”

But all warnings were lost upon the prince, as he smiled with satisfaction, gazing at Jace before raising his goblet further, his tone mockingly jovial, “Come… let us drain our cups to these three…Strong boys.”

Below him, Prince Aegon joined his brother in the false toast, his goblet raised as he looked glibly upon Luke and Jace.

To which both dark haired prince’s found themselves beyond the point of anger, and Jace in his rashness found his fists clenched tightly, his voice a dignified bark, “I dare you to say that again.”

Aemond turned his head swiftly, “Why? ‘Twas only a compliment.” Slowly, he stalked towards his nephew, “Do you not think yourself Strong?”

Prince Jacaerys had found himself already moving towards his silver haired uncle, and before he could stop himself, the young prince had slammed his fist against Aemond’s face. Before Visenya had even noticed, Luke escaped her grip sauntering towards Prince Aegon who had gleefully joined the brawl.

Aegon grabbed Luke swiftly, forcing his head into the table, sending herself and her sisters to their feet. “Luke-” Visenya barked.

Her brow furrowed in anger as once again, as she went to charge at Aegon, but she was met with her father’s hand suddenly grabbing at her wrist.

She looked into Daemon's eyes, and the rage that brewed within her fell away as she eased. She could not indulge; she could not get involved once again in such disputes. Not after what had happened last time.

In the corner, Rhaena was forcing her sister Baela back, as the young Lady had watched as her betrothed, Jacaerys was forced to the ground by a snickering Aemond.

“That is enough!” Queen Alicent had shouted harshly at her son.

The one eyed Prince, whom had barely so much as winced after being punched, chuckled gleefully, as he turned away from his fallen nephew. He had pushed Jace with such ease, it was not worth much more of a fight to Aemond, for he would easily beat them, and he took little pleasure in an unworthy opponent. It was no challenge.

Before any could comprehend, the guards had seized the two dark haired princes, pulling them away as now, all members of the table had risen. Daemon had let go of Visenya as they flocked to the detained Lucerys and Jacaerys, who still in their anger struggled to accost their uncles once more.

As Visenya had finally reached her younger brothers, she suddenly gripped at the hand of one of the guards who being particularly rough with Jace, her tone fierce, “OFF!” The princess pulled his thick hand free from her brother, and she gripped his arm.

Jace’s brown eyes seemed red with a dire fury, she gripped his wrist harder her expression giving a fair warning to temper his nerve. Their mother was now at their side, holding her belly as she looked upon her children with a slight despair.

Visenya turned her head and noticed the auburn hair of Alicent whipping around the table as she swiftly pulled Prince Aemond close, reprimanding him slightly out of ear shot.

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?” Alicent’s eyes were wide and unsettled as she gazed upon the sharp, satisfied features of her son.

She had always known there was something particularly strange about Aemond, strange of how easily such impulse for inciting such disharmony came to him and how he seemed to be unable to resist all desire to act upon whatever rage dwelled within him.

The prince narrowed his eye upon his mother, her hand gripping at his wrist tightly. He crooned and spoke again, his tone incendiary, “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother.” Aemond tilted his head, ready to spark a greater fire, “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

With that he had ripped his hand straight from his mother’s grasp with ease, turning sharply as he approached his nephews and Visenya. His eye landing on Princess as she had gripped the arm of Luke too now, putting them both behind her.

Though it was little use, because Jace was far stronger than she and forced his way from her grasp, leading him to charge once more at Aemond as Lucerys had once again been held back.

The sudden sound of her father’s voice, made all come to a stop. “Wait! Wait…”

Daemon raised his finger, stepping in between Jace and Aemond. He gave Jace a look of warning as the dark haired boy slowly retreated and Princess Visenya now gripped Jace again forcing him further back.

“Go to your quarters. All of you go, now.” Rhaenyra spoke sternly, her eyes scanning the flock of young Targaryen’s before her. Visenya had felt Jacaerys force himself from her grip as her siblings moved away. Her eyes came to her mother and father who both gazed upon her and she felt a sudden disturbance fill her.

Visenya then shot a glare at Aemond, who stood with his shoulders peaked – his eye all but narrowing upon the Princess and she stepped forward. She couldn’t believe him, couldn’t believe the arrogance, the foolishness, she had almost wished she had let her brothers loose upon the cunt.

They both stood there for a moment, Prince Daemon separating the two as they glared with all the hatred in the world upon each other. The two knowing of what had transpired in the past, the truth of it, the failure of reconciliation and betrayal that went beyond just what their family’s knew of. The quiet moments between them in which were yes, strained but undoubtedly flickering sparks of trust or understanding. Visenya felt disgust coil upon her face as she looked into Aemond’s lonesome eye, thought it would be hard to say a sense of guilt didn’t follow such feelings.

A hard hand meeting her shoulder forced her from such thoughts, she looked up to meet Daemon’s eyes, her fathers’ eyes and her head bowed slightly as she backed away.

 Aemond tilted his own as he watched the princess concede to her father, he almost wanted to laugh, to shout in righteousness. To see her narrowed eyes weaken before Daemon, stirred Prince Aemond in a manner which he didn’t quite understand. He had only ever seen such utter surrender of Visenya to her father, and that was what pleased him the most… she had to pretend such surrender was merely respect of her mother’s husband. She had to restrain the urge to behave as a daughter would to her father, to concede and resist revolting against him. His eye followed Visenya as she walked after her siblings.

The one eyed prince soon found his body stiffening as felt his uncle turning to face him, a small almost glib sigh leaving Daemon’s mouth. An odd tension brewed, a strange comradery he thought. Aemond felt himself buzz, itching to indulge in more of his anger, to show them exactly what he was capable of. What he was so eager to do so and when he looked into the eyes of his uncle, he could’ve sworn he saw the same in Daemon, a match, an equalised opponent. It took the Rogue Prince having to step in to stop me from beating those bastards to a pulp. It took Daemon himself to recognise that I was just a greater threat as any.

Visenya had paused for a moment as she walked, briefly glancing at the interaction of between her father and uncle. The odd tension that brewed thickly between them, her gaze lingered upon Daemon and as she turned away. She recognised the look her father had given Aemond. One of amusement, just as he had given her countless times. That gleam of condescension driven by superiority. As if he were watching a child attempt to yield of sword… a pitiful endearment.

●

The princess hadn’t bothered to wait for her mother or father, she simply returned to her chamber swiftly. Slamming the doors as she soon found herself laying upon her bed and shutting her eyes.

Less than an hour had gone by before the creek of her chamber door filled her room, she sighed, it was likely her mother ready and willing to wag her finger. Visenya muttered, “How come no matter what transpires I am always the one to be lectured, mother?”

“It’s me, sister.” A small voice mumbled.

Visenya sat up and turned her head, her gaze softening at the sight of familiar dark eyes and shaggy black hair.

Lucerys.

The princess tilted her head and waved him over, to which he slowly approached her, sitting upon her bed. As she laid back down, neither of the siblings said anything, she merely watched as Luke hung his head low and sulked.

Visenya sighed and then, tapped his back with her boot, forcing him to turn his head.

“Come.” She said expectantly, rolling her eyes. She sat up, gesturing for him to come lay beside her.

He let out a small breath and mumbled, “I am nearly a man grown. I ought not be coddled.” Luke pouted.

Visenya scoffed, and raised her brow, “So why have you come?”

Then, a small but obvious moment passed between the two siblings, Luke looked down and sighed. She was right, why else would he have come? He was weak, he was not like his elder brother who brimmed with such confidence and self-assurance. Try as Lucerys might, he couldn’t suppress his anguish, his anxiety.  He knew he must now, he was to be married to Baela, would then be a father soon after and then named Lord of Driftmark. How could he dare assume such roles if he still needed to be assured his world was not crumbling before him? That he was deserving of his titles and of his position as a man? His mother and sister would not be there forever, and he knew no wife would surely tolerate a weak husband. Especially not a woman as fierce and formidable as Rhaena. She deserved a man who would be the one to soothe her woes, to ease her worries.

Though mayhap, tonight was not the night to try and call upon that man he wished be.

Visenya slowly made her way to the end of the bed, sitting beside him. She gazed upon her young brother, noting the flickering uncertainty within his eyes. She couldn’t help but feel her eyes soften upon him, suddenly struck with how young he was, how he still looked like a boy straining desperately to be a man. Her hand came to his head and gently, she brought him to her shoulder, noticing the bruise upon his forehead from where Aegon had attacked him. Her fingers gently grazing it making him wince.

"You must see a maester." Visenya said, her gaze flickering upon the discolored skin.

Lucerys shook his head, and a moment of silence settled between them before finally, he gained the courage to speak, “I keep making this worse for mother.” He whispered.

She sighed, bringing him closer as she rested her chin about his scalp, “It was no fault of yours, brother.” The princess spoke softly as her fingers grazed his hair.

“Yes it was. I laughed at him, didn’t I? I thought myself clever when I should have looked the other way. I caused trouble and now… now I whine like a babe about it.” Luke suddenly pulled his head from her shoulder, stifling down tears of both sorrow and wrath. “A man takes accountability. A boy cower in his sister’s arms.” His voice firm.

The princess gazed upon the side of Luke’s face, scanning his boyish features. She raised an eyebrow and suddenly a laugh escaped her.

The young prince turned his head in shock, his voice stuttering, “Do… do not laugh.”

Visenya continued regardless, she rolled her eyes and leaned back upon her elbow, forcing Luke to turn his head.

“Brother I laugh because you are boy. I laugh because I cannot tell you how many times I have watched our brother, or my father… or even our un-” She stopped herself, “Even other boys, do the same as you are now. Fighting themselves so foolishly over what is a condition of having a heart, not the weakness of a man.” Visenya rose to sit up once more, taking his hand.

“You took accountability just before, no?” She beckoned.

Luke nodded.

“Well then, you have done what a man would do... recognise you made an error at laughing at our uncle, who himself, made an even greater error by throwing a most bitter tantrum! Precisely after our Grandsire was not there to witness such a thing.” Her voice firm as she ranted.

Lucerys raised his brow as he took in her words, his mind churning, “Yet I doubt Aemond is scuttling off into the arms of his sister.”

“No, he likely to craven to even admit such weakness to his own kin, but one never knows what other methods of comfort he seeks. My point is that it is he who acts more boyishly then you. Aemond who relishes in such causing scenes! Yes you laughed, so bloody what? You are the one who is truly but a boy still. Aemond is but a man grown, he ought have a stronger spine.” The princess lowered her tone, shaking her head as she scoffed with contempt.

As Prince Lucerys looked upon his sister, he felt tears beckon in his eyes his heart aching as he realised how terribly he wished to be long gone from this place, how he wished things could be as they were in their youth at Dragonstone. Yet a sense of doom befell him, that things had changed now.

Slowly his head came back to her shoulder, and Visenya could do nothing but look upon her younger brother with an affection like no other. She brought her hand up to his hair, stroking it and she felt droplets of tears fall upon the fabric of her gown.

“I shall never be like you… or Jace… or even mother. I shall always be afraid.” He whispered.

“Sweet brother. We are all afraid. Fear does not make you weak...and it took me many years to see that neither does the revelation of vulnerability.” Visenya’s voice dropped to a soft, cooing tone. Her hand still gliding upon the mop of his black curls.

Luke shook his head, protesting her words. His voice strained, “You are not vulnerable as I am.”

“Yes… I am. I am, Lucerys... but I feel I must stay strong. I cannot falter as I once did, not when mother depends on me so. Not when you and Jace… and, and Joffrey are in such danger. I did not understand it when I was young, did not see how everything I did reinforced the slander against mother and therefore put you three in greater danger. You are not weak for leaning upon me, it was I who was weak because I resisted being leaned upon.” The princess looked out upon the soft glow of the candles which flickered. She felt her gaze and voice become low. A whirlwind of regret and emotions pooling through her.

“But I must be strong too.” He muttered.

“You are.” She whispered back, the moment paused, which led to the both of them realising what was said, and they let out small snickers. It was nice, to acknowledge the truth.

 Luke raised his head, his face turned to his elder sister. In this moment he found his gaze weakening, he needed her strength, he needed her honesty, “Ser Leanor is not my father, is he?”

A soft breath left the princess, her mind was in no state of conflict as she spoke. Her eyes still looking out, “No brother. Nor is he mine.”

And there it was, the clear truth. She had had this moment with Jace once before, and now she would have it with Luke. Slowly, Visenya turned her head, gazing into his simpering eyes, her hand coming to his cheek, “Then at least… now I know that I can be brave. For Ser Harwin was. He cared for Jace and Joffrey… and me. Protected us, even though it put him in danger.” The young prince’s voice beaming with reverence.

Visenya pouted softly and nodded. She felt her eyes weaken and tears beckon as she slowly pulled his head to her heart. Luke’s arms wrapped around his elder sister, and in that moment he realised how much like their mother she truly was. How much he was willing to give to prove himself worthy of his name.

The princess gazed out longingly, tears falling but she did not acknowledge them. She felt a slight pang of jealously but also gratitude. For Ser Harwin despite the world being against him, did not abandon his boys, did everything he could to protect them and see to his mother. She even remembered how he would treat Visenya like his own and would call her fierce like Rhaenyra. She remembered the man who harboured dark curls like her brothers, his sweet kind words and fatherly affection.

As the princess spoke, she found her voice failing her, “You are lucky, brother. To have had such a father… and even luckier to inherit such a good heart. He was but a good man… and I have little doubt you shall be too.”

Luke looked up and furrowed his brow, “You have a good heart too sister.”

“If I have been gifted any goodness… it comes from mother. I feel, as I grow older… more estranged from Daemon. More attune to his ways.” Visenya crumbled, her heart sinking as her voice was no more than a whisper.

“His ways?” The prince asked.

Visenya's gaze drew distant as she muttered, “Coming and going…”

“He married mother. Does that not prove you and her are where his heart truly lies? If as you say… all of us have vulnerability, would you not be one of them?” Lucerys scrunched his nose, contemplating his own words. Even he were not too sure if they were accurate, for it was true Prince Daemon was indeed, an enigma.

“He is impossible to understand. He was not like Ser Harwin, he abandoned me...would barely acknowledge me in public. There was never a moment when he would dare guide or teach me before the eyes of others. Everything was done in the shadows; everything was done where none could see, and it was so rarely he might as well have been just an uncle. Most of the brief moments we shared were him reprimanding me for being a strain upon my mother, and then he would leave again, barely reaching out. Setting out to Pentos to spend the rest of his days when he had little reason not to come to Dragonstone. There were times when... when I could see it in his eyes, that I was something he regrets.” She found herself simpering, looking down. In that moment she felt like a girl again and all she could do was lean in to such heartache.

“Perhaps not. Perhaps he just… kept away because… because he could not risk what may happen to you if he didn’t. Though, I am grateful for Ser Harwin’s affection… it made things all the worse did it not? Many people still think you to be Ser Leanor’s.” Luke mumbled, a quiet wisdom falling unknowingly from him.

Visenya shook her head, bringing her hand to her face as she spoke, “Yes but that is because I-” Her eyes suddenly met Luke’s and they both knew what she was to say. She appears Valyrian.

Lucerys nodded and another quiet moment passed before he found his way into her arms. The two siblings finding a sense of understanding and comfort, just as she did with Jacaerys all those years ago. Mayhap one day even she will have to do the same with Joffrey.

There was then, a small exchange of fumbling and bickering that echoed outside her door, Luke pulled away and raised his brow,

“Just go inside!” One rang.

“What if she with a suitor? I heard another?” A softer responded.

The first scoffed, “Too bloody bad, Luke is missing, and we must leave.”

“Jace!” A third winced.

The sudden opening of her chamber door meant for Visenya to shake her head.

“Sister… I shall give you a moment to, ready yourself… and also any other who may be present.” The awkward voice of Jacaerys bellowed.

“You’ll have to give them all a moment brother.” The princess mocked, waiting for the foolishness to end.

His eyes widened suddenly, and face coiled in horror as he awaited what he thought would be a flock of men, “Them all? How.. how many- “

“Jacaerys just come in!” She snapped slightly, winning a snicker from Luke.

As Jace made his way in, he approached the corner where her bed was. Cautiously his eyes readying to shut before he found himself grimacing in embarrassment as he saw the likes of his two siblings. The prince scoffed and gestured to his younger brother, “Why would you not say you were with him?”

Visenya raised her brow, giving him a “Why would you not knock if you thought me apprehended?” A small laugh escaping her as she watched Jace’s face turn over itself, he raised his brow and nodded.

Soon, the shutting of her door warranted the arrival of Baela and Rhaena.

Baela having huffed and gently nudged at Jace, “Sorry, sister.” She said softly, tilting her head and giving a gentle look to her elder upon the bed. Visenya returned the gesture. “We were merely worried because, Luke had disappeared, and we weren’t so certain if he were with you or…” Baela trailed off.

“Why were you looking for me?” Lucerys turned his head.

Jace stepped forward, “Mother says we are to leave tonight.”

“Tonight…why? When?” Visenya raised her brow.

“After what happened at supper she thinks it best we return to Dragonstone. They are preparing a ship still; we have some time but.. you best be ready.”

The eldest Targaryen shook her head, her voice beaming with frustration “But I came on dragonback?”

“Oh… yes I think Rhaenyra mentioned something of the sorts of having Silverwing readied.” Baela assured.

Visenya rose to her feet, straightening her gown as she collected her trunk, “Hm. Very well, I shall… be ready then. How much time is left?”

“Mayhap… an hour or two?” Rhaena shrugged, “Rhaenyra had just said for us to be ready to leave as hastily as possible, so…” The youngest girl continued.

Visenya nodded, and began to collect her things upon the vanity, swiftly bringing them into her trunk. As she did so, Lucerys had joined his brother as they bid each other farewell.

However, there was but one thing on the mind of the Princess as she hastily shoved her things into her trunk: Blood of Old.

○x○

[whereismymindnow]

I'm awful with photoshop, but it doesn't mean I'll stop trying.

I've had this written up for a while, figured I'd upload it and see if it sparks a bit more than a few sentences of inspiration.

Dark!Aemond x OFC x Dark!Aegon

"No, father." Aemyra quickly grabbed Daemon's hand as he immediately moved to release Dark Sister from his scabbard. "Stop." His lip curled as she stood on front of him, guarding the one-eyed prince and Cole from his wrath. "Let them play their games." Aemyra whispered softly. At the sound of her exhausted voice, Daemon looked down at his daughter's face and sighed.

Aemyra was known for her pale skin, the peasants whispered that she had been carved from the moon itself, but she was almost ghostly in complexion now that he saw her in the light. She had holed herself up in her quarters over the last few days and Daemon was certain that she had shrunk. Her once bright eyes were reddened from fatigue. The last thing that Daemon wanted to do was leave his daughter alone with the Hightower cunts, but the King's order stopped him from taking her back to Dragonstone. "Look at mama."

Daemon glanced at Rhaenyra, his heavily pregnant wife ushered the rest of the children on to the ship, a hand resting on her back as the weight of the babe strained her. The stress of the Driftmark hearing and the disastrous dinner had taken its toll and his wife had been insistent on taking her children back to the safety of their home. "I will not abandon you."

"You have no choice, father." Her soft hand cupped his cheek and she stepped forward to rest her head against his chest. "You must protect them. They need you."

"And what of you? You cannot fight against all of them by yourself." Daemon inhaled as his drunken nephew stumbled down the steps to stand beside his brother with a grin. He whispered into Aemond's ear causing the corner of his brother's mouth to lift. "Tell me... tell me what they've done to you." Aemyra avoided his gaze and shook her head.

"I cannot. I cannot say it."

Aemond’s hand wrapped around her throat, the feeling of his cold rings made her flinch. “Shhhh.” His tone was gentle as he held her tightly against his chest with one arm. “Keep looking.” Her eyes locked onto their reflection in the mirror. She felt naked as she was dressed only in her thin nightgown having just finished her evening bath.

“You smell delicious.” Aegon stood beside them, quite enjoying how she was kept captive by his brother as he drank from his goblet. “Good enough to eat…” He slowly dropped to his knees and gripped the end of her gown in his hands. His grin was predatory as he pushed the material upwards until it was over her hipbones. Aemyra tried to look away as she was bared to them both but Aemond tightened his grip around her throat in warning.

“Don’t. You’ve played so well thus far.” He took the material from his brother so that Aegon could have full access to their niece’s body.

“Imagine if Daemon could see this.”

“What would your mother think?”

Aemyra would not admit to her father that her uncles had destroyed her behind closed doors. "Just know that I will continue to fight. I won't let them win. I shall be waiting for your return." She gently pressed a kiss to his cheek and tucked her arm under his, steering him to the ship where her mother stood waiting for him.

"Sweet girl..." Rhaenyra shook her head and exhaled a shaky breath. "I am so sorry. I did not wish this for you."

"Do not worry, mama. I shall see you again soon and you can present my beautiful sister to me." Aemyra painted a teary smile on her face and embraced her mother. "Have a safe journey. I shall look after grandfather until you return." 

“Remember what I taught you.”

"You need only send word and your father will bring you to me. Stay safe, daughter." Daemon held out his arm for his wife to take, and despite neither Targaryen wishing to leave their daughter at the mercy of the Greens, assisted her to board the ship. 

Aemyra waited for the ship to leave port before allowing her tears to fall. Oh, how she wished she could join them. She wished that she could go back to her Dragonstone where she felt protected and happy... but she couldn't. Her grandfather's ruling that she would marry Aemond stopped her from escaping. She would never forget the look on her father's face; the murderous rage that filled his eyes as he listened to his brother's words. Despite being kept apart for years, her father was her greatest advocate. She may be the product of a lust-filled night in a brothel, but she was his and he despised anyone that tried to take her away. Aemyra only hoped that Viserys would live long enough to see the error of his ways and dismantle the betrothal. If she could get some time with him, then perhaps she could change his mind. She had her father's silver tongue, after all.

Once the ship was nothing but a tiny dot in the distance, Aemyra wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. She could still feel the presence of her uncles a few feet away and she was determined to keep fighting against them, no matter how much they took from her. They could mark and stain her body as much as they wished, but she was a true Targaryen, and her fire burned hot. She would continue to charge into battle, even if she may not win the war. It was not in her blood to submit.

"Ah, niece... all alone." Aegon drawled from behind her. "Rhaenyra must prefer her brown-haired bastards to you. She didn't even look back."

[ladylaviniya]

The Bronze Dragoness

Chapter 8 || Masterlist || Chapter 10

Chapter Summary: The King finds out his Lamb of the Vale has more teeth of the Dragon in her than he gave credit for. Do not back a Dragon into a corner.

Pairing: Aemond Targayren X (OFC) Laviniya Targayren

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, Physical Abuse, Sadism, Coercion, Violence, Blood.

Word Count: (4K+)

Author Notes: I hope you enjoy the Valyrian Lessons.

Inspiring Song: "The Dog Days Are Over" by Florence & The Machine

★★★

“How do you say ‘husband’?” Aemond repeated, his gaze fixed on her.

Laviniya replied, “Valzȳrys.” Husband

Aemond smiled approvingly as Laviniya correctly pronounced the High Valyrian words he had taught her. He handed her an apple slice as a reward, and she happily munched on the treat.

Pleased with her progress, he posed another question, “And the word for wife?”

Laviniya repeated the word, “Ābrazȳrys,” Wife, her pronunciation clear and confident.

They found themselves inside the a room of the Ivy Inn situated along the road. The name was fitting, as the outside of the inn was completely overrun by a tangled web of green tendrils and the exterior wood had been painted a dark shade of green.

The inn room was small, but clean and cosy. A small window allowed light in, illuminating the simple furnishings that filled the room. A bed, made up with neat sheets and a blanket, dominated the room. There was also a small table with two chairs, a chest of drawers and a washbasin. The room had a warm, intimate feeling, suggesting it was a space reserved for two people who were married.

Laviniya and Aemond Targayren were still unmarried. But to travel under the guise of mystery, Aemond wore his travelling hood inside and made Laviniya shut her eyes as they entered the inn. Inside the privacy of the room however, they could be as themselves. They played cyvasse and ordered the innkeeper to bring them a roast chicken.

She had removed her gable hood and shed the first layer of her thick gown.

Aemond’s guard, Ser Raynard stood outside their door while Laviniya’s guard, Ser Gilbar took his rest in the room nextdoor, a kindness, rented out by the king for the weary knight. In fact, all the other rooms of the inn had been booked out by the king for the men who had not slept during the day, travelling the king’s captive woman.

Aemond, chewing a slice of freshly-cut apple, asked, “What is the word for apple?”

The king, seated on the edge of the bed at a higher level, looked down at her with a mixture of affection and interest, waiting for her response.

Laviniya, sitting at the small table, met his gaze with a serious expression. She thought for a moment before saying, “Avero?...” Grape, She bit her inner cheek before her purple orbs flew wide and she corrected herself, “Wait no, prūbres!” Apple

Aemond chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice, “Well done my dear Hāedar,” Cousin, he said, lazily waving his knife around before tapping its tip against his chin. Curiously, he fixed his gaze on her, “Can you say a whole sentence in Valyrian for me?”

Her lips pursed in frustration as she wracked her brain for a sentence she could say in Valyrian, something that utilized the words he had taught her in the past hour. But her knowledge of the language was limited, and she didn’t know the grammar and structure. After a moment, however, she managed to recall a phrase, albeit muttered under her breath.

“Avy jorrāelan, Lēkia,” Cousin, She mumbled, the Valyrian phrase slipping out between her pursed lips. Be that it may, she did not know what horrible things it meant, what insult it was, surely she would not be scolded as in the moment she did not think of insulting his majesty.

He chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Well, isn’t that just delightful? Here I was, under the impression that I had posed quite the intellectual challenge, and yet, you effortlessly countered with a simple yet eloquent phrase.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, appreciating both her wit and her ability to meet his verbal sparring with panache. “It seems I underestimated your linguistic prowess, my dear. Well played.”

The corners of her lips curled into a small yet defiant grin, acknowledging the clever tactics of her king. She knew that this game of lessons was but a ploy to divert her thoughts from the unfortunate situation she found herself in, to create a sense of comfort amidst the looming prospect of a forced marriage. Despite his well-intentioned efforts, Laviniya found the charade to be as much a kindness as it was a cruelty, leaving her caught in a web of conflicting emotions.

The king unfolded himself from his position on the bed, abandoning his small blade and apple core. His movements were slow and deliberate as he approached the fair lady as if he feared she would spook like a silly little lamb. His fingers carefully extended towards her, reaching out to make gentle contact with her soft cheek.

 “You,” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate murmur, “Will make a fine Valyrian queen.” His touch, though tender, sent a chill through her spine.

Her smile faded from her face. Unconsciously, her brow creased, and a frown tugged at the corners of her mouth, betraying her displeasure.

The king observed the lady’s changes carefully, taking note of her expression. He let out a sigh, his voice a gentle rebuke as he spoke, “You are aware, are you not, that countless ladies would be deeply honoured to have a king desire their hand in marriage? Yet, here you stand, indifferent and ungracious towards such a potentially advantageous union.” He tenderly traced his thumb over her pouting lips as he spoke, his touch both soothing and reproachful in equal measure.

Laviniya recoiled from his touch, rising to her feet with a fierce look.

His words struck a nerve, igniting a growing heat within her. She clenched her fists, her voice shaking slightly as she retorted, “I did not ask for this. I did not want this. I never dreamed of being a queen, and I do not fathom any benefit in it. Truly, one with reasonable wisdom would avoid such a thing when gazing upon the historical fates of Targaryen queen consorts. There has been a rather common pattern throughout the years and they have all been rather unpleasant.” She took a step back, her eyes locking with his in a challenging gaze.

Though her head was still tilted slightly up to meet his eye, it was an improvement over her previous position, which had her nearly eye level with his navel. Her chin lifted, her shoulders squared, she glared up at him with a mixture of determination and defiance, refusing to be cowed by his regal presence.

Laviniya sneered, shaking her head in disgust. “You can’t seriously expect me to feel gratitude towards a man who took pleasure in massacring innocent women and children, just because their husbands and fathers refused to submit to you? Your callous disregard for human life is truly despicable.”

Laviniya pressed on, revealing her own courage alongside her accusations. “You spin these tales of your gallantry, of defending Princess Jaehaera. Yet what of the tragic fate of the little northern girls, like the daughters of Hallis Hornwood? And let us not forget the young brides of the Boltons?” She sneered, jabbing a finger at his chest with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “Allow me to remind you once again, Your Majesty. You killed my own sister, Baella, and my own father, Daemon, in battle. And you expect me to come to you with gratitude after you stole me from the only place I considered safe and forced me into a marriage that I never asked for? Your arrogance truly knows no bounds.”

Aemond’s hand rose to her face, and for a moment, she braced herself, anticipating a blow. The courage of all her Royce ancestors steeled her, preventing her from flinching as the King of the Dragons hovered over her. Tears welled in her eyes, yet no strike came. Instead, his finger tenderly brushed a strand of her hair away from her face, the unexpected gentleness catching her off guard.

“You speak truth Lady Laviniya, but I do have to wonder which was it? The slaughter of your father or the destruction of the northern rebels that made you return the kiss inside the carriage? Which made your cunt warm and wet for me? Do you blush as prettily down there as you do on your own face?”

Her eyes blazed with fury once more, and she quickly hacked up a viscous glob of spit, preparing to hurl it at his good eye. However, his hand – the one that had been tenderly caressing her cheek and moving hair from her eyes just a moment ago – slammed viciously over her lips, effectively muffling her rebellious spitting. His other hand with a vipers strike, wrapped around her throat, grounding her with his thumb threatening to press closer.

Aemond’s voice grew dark as he chuckled lowly, “Oh no, no my lady, you’ll swallow that spittle,” he grit his teeth and seethed at the edge of a growl, “It’s quite the fitting practice for the heirs you’ll take down your throat and into your belly once we are married.”

His cock in his trousers was stirring. She was arousing a wicked curiosity in him. He imagined how she would look, on her knees before him, hungrily devouring the cock down her mouth, slurping at the salts and being covered in his white sauce. The mere thought set his pulse racing, and he was sure the reality would be even more exquisite.

She made a noise, one of alarm mixed with anger. ‘How dare he speak to me and touch me like this?’ He was strong. She stared at his arms and wrists that held her in her place.

Despite his own apparent agitation and her own defiant fury, Aemond’s actions were surprisingly restrained. In the depths of her fear, an unconscious part of her mind noticed his firm hold on her, realizing that it was nowhere near strong enough to truly harm her. Her hands rested on his wrist, not trying to pry but to make sure to prepare if he would tighten his fingers around her neck.

“Look at me, Laviniya,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for disobedience.

Her eyes shot up, and she found herself gazing into the depths of his singular piercing blue stare. In that moment, she swallowed, her throat covered in the sliding goop.

A tense silence fell between them as he continued to stare into her eyes, his hand firmly grasping her neck, a constant reminder of his power and dominance over her in that moment. She had always felt weak in his presence, but now it was crystal clear – she was completely at his mercy, unable to move or speak without his permission. It was obvious that he meant to impress upon her the reality of her helplessness, but the realization only heightened her sense of vulnerability and fear.

Aemond’s fingers moved higher, closing around her nostrils, cutting off her precious breath all together. Her eyes widened, and an unfamiliar thrill coursed through her, a strange mix of intimacy and danger that left her conflicted. But no, she chastised herself, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel it. It was a strange and unwelcome sensation, one she refused to acknowledge. It was hot and starved. She fiercely fought against the forbidden flicker within her, drowning it out with an incessant inner mantra of – ‘No. No. Not for him. I will not feel this for him.’ She had lost so much already; she couldn’t let him have this too.

“When I release you, I expect you to apologise,” he stated, his grip on her neck and her face unwavering. His thumb pressed into her throat. Feeling the soft choke under his hands made the King smirk, his expression chilling. “Otherwise, we’ll find out just how long you can hold your breath,” he pressed his lips to her ear and added, his with a poisonous chuckle, “And I must confess, I do have high expectations.”

After what felt like nearly an eternity, her released her with a slight shove. She flung back toward the bed, sending her stumbling and crashing onto the soft mattress. Her body folded and bent over the bed as she desperately gasped for air, struggling to catch her breath. As she lay sprawled there, she could feel his gaze roaming shamelessly over her, his eyes wandering greedily over her backside. He paused, seeming to savour the sight, though he maintained a stoic facade.

As Lady Laviniya’s hazy mind slowly cleared and her sense of awareness returned, she braced herself to offer a spew of lying apologies to pacify the volatile King Aemond. But as she braced, her eyes then fell upon the apple core and blade lying innocuously beside her hand on the bed. Its silver edge was seen in the dim light.

It would be her only chance...

In the span of a single moment, her mind raced and her heart hammered in her chest. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, Her fingers flexed involuntarily, the instinct to reach for it undeniable. With a rapid motion filled with a million and one emotions, Lady Laviniya tore her hand from the bedcovers, lashing out with blazing speed. The king was forced to stumble backwards caught off guard, knocking backwards into the small table with a guttural grunt and hiss of surprise. She held the knife in front of her, her eyes wide with shock, not quite comprehending what had just happened.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Laviniya froze in disbelief, unable to move or even to think clearly. Her gaze fixated on the sight of the dark red liquid staining his sleeve, the stain growing larger and more vivid by the second. As the reality of her action sank in, her eyes travelled up to meet his face, and her heart skipped a beat as she saw the surprising smile forming on his lips.

She had just cut the Targaryen King. She had coaxed blood out from him, Aemond the conqueror.

“Oh, my sweet, darling, Laviniya,” he chuckled, his breathless voice barely masking the edge of amusement. Slowly, he raised his bleeding palm up before him, his unscathed hand encircling his wrist. With a thoughtful expression, he studied the wound for a moment before lifting his gaze to meet hers. His wide eye locked onto her watery ones as he spoke, a hint of surprise and admiration in his tone. “I must confess, I did not expect that from you.”

Aemond's smile expanded further, reaching new levels of smug satisfaction. It struck her then that it was the first authentic smile she had seen on his lips since she learned he was not a knight of House Hightower but King Aemond himself. Just then, the doorway to her left was filled with the imposing figure of Ser Raynard, his eyes a chilling shade of pale ice, framed by raven black hair.

Ser Raynard, having overheard the commotion or simply been on guard outside, stepped into the room, his eyes darting between the two as he took in the scene. Aemond’s smile remained fixed on his face, his presence calm despite the tense atmosphere and bleeding wound on his palm.

Ser Raynard’s hand closed around the handle of his sword, ready to intervene, but at Aemond’s shake of his head, he halted in his tracks. With a mere jerk of his chin, the king signaled for his guard to withdraw from the room, his eyes never leaving Laviniya’s. Though pain flickered in his gaze, it was challenged by both amusement and a silent rage. His breathing was steady as he exhaled through parted lips that formed a smile, though the strain of his injury was clear in the tightness of his jaw.

His gaze flicked down to the wound, studying the deep gash with an almost detached curiosity. Blood continued to trickle out, staining his fingers and the fabric of his sleeve, even though he clutched his wrist firmly and held it higher. Despite the pain, his breath still came in slightly laboured gasps, but his smile remained fixed on his lips. “You shall face consequences for this, Laviniya,” he stated, his voice tight with a mixture of pain and anger. “I assure you, the punishment will be quite severe.” He licked his lips and said breathily, “Avy jorrāelan, Laviniya.”

With a brief glance towards the doorway, Laviniya weighed her chances of making a hasty escape past Ser Raynard and out into the inn without being stopped. Her heart raced like a wild thing, pounding against her ribcage with a dizzying mix of fear and adrenaline. The king Aemond’s gaze was fixed on her, his smile remaining intact, but his good eye was wildly wide, his pupil had become tiny like a black pinpoints. It was the sight of a hungry beast that starved for blood. She watched as his lips twitched, his excitement was obvious now, despite the circumstances.

“Enlighten me, my dear, what you intend will come of this,” he mused. “Did you not think this through?” He laughed, “No, surely not. Because well, let us suppose you did manage to slay me – then what, pray tell?” His eyebrow raised, and he continued in a low, almost gleeful whisper, “Oh, my sweet Lavender Lamb, my men will cut you down if they don’t rape you bloody first.”

Her stomach churned, and the bitter taste of bile filled her mouth as she muttered, “I don’t want to kill you.”

Aemond regarded her intently, his expression thoughtful and measured. A tear coursed down her cheek, she shivered. A thrill of power surged through her veins, she could feel her inner flames blaze high from the pit of her belly to the top of her chest.

“Then place the knife down, now,” he commanded in a voice deceptively soft and gentle.

She shook her head, she couldn’t, she couldn’t let him win so easily. If she put the blade down, he would easily kill her. Harming the king was treason, punishable by death. She was not a total idiot not to know that much.

Just then, Ser Raynard reappeared in the room, but Aemond waved him away once more with a simple shake of his head.

“Go and find me a maester, Raynard,” he ordered. “I believe I’ll have need of his services.”

“But, sire-” The knight hesitated.

Aemond’s voice was firm as he snapped abruptly at his guard. “Now, Ser Raynard,” he barked, “Do as I command!”

Ser Raynard, understanding the severity of the situation, quickly turned and left the room.

Then, adding as an afterthought, Aemond called out, “And awaken Ser Gilbar!”

Aemond’s gaze shifted back to Laviniya, and he swung his head back, the movement causing his silvery locks to cascade away from his forehead and eye patch. He ran his tongue along the inside of his upper lip, a contemplative gesture, but his complexion had taken on a silckly pale hue, betraying his blood loss and pain.

With another low, drawn-out exhale, he said, “This little game has provided some entertainment, not as enjoyable as cyvasse, I must admit...” He paused, his eyes tracing every inch of her form from head to toe before continuing, “but it’s high time we bring it to a close.”

Laviniya’s voice was barely more than a murmur as she pleaded, her lower lip trembling slightly. Her brow furrowed tight with emotion as she shook her head. “Please,” she implored, her soft voice breaking halfway through. “Just let me return to Runestone in peace. That’s all I-...all I ask!”

“Surely not home, I have told you what would occur. I will burn it all and fuck you in the beds of their ashes. So why cause unnecessary war and death? Besides, it has already been quite the adventure on this journey, hasn’t it, Laviniya?” Aemond chuckled, and his voice dripped with sarcasm, “You have even managed to leave your mark on a king... How impressive.”

Still oozing blood, he held his injured hand up, his unbroken hand clenched tightly around his wrist. Despite the severity of the gash, his expression began to strengthen, as if to show no signs of pain or discomfort. Like the cut was no longer there.

“Release me, and let me return to my home in Runestone,” Laviniya repeated her plea, her voice firmer this time as she punctuated her words by pointing the knife at him. Her throat bobbed slightly.

“Now, now, Laviniya,” Aemond patronised her with a mocking click of his tongue and belittled her as if she were a naughty child, cooing, “We both know that simply is no longer an option. Put down the knife and let’s discuss this like reasonable adults.”

A tense silence hung in the air as Laviniya remained mute, her only response a slow blink. Aemond took a step towards her, and she automatically retreated, causing him to stop in his tracks. She made a halfhearted swing with the blade, creating a sense of caution. For a moment, he paused, contemplating his next move. Then, he deliberately stepped back, his body always angled towards her, maneuvering until the table separated them.

As soon as he sidestepped, Laviniya lunged for the door, attempting to dart out of the room. With impressive quickness, Aemond shifted his position, moving just enough to block her path. He let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the game of cat and mouse. She retreated around the side of the table, her eyes flitting between him and the door. His gaze never wavered, fixated solely on her.

“What’s your plan, Laviniya?” he inquired, “Just how far do you think you’ll make it?” Aemond tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “Why not make it interesting and place a friendly wager? We do love our games, let us make this not our last, yes?”

For a moment, she cast aside the manners and propriety expected of a lady, she recalled the crude and foul language of men she had heard growing up, words never spoken by fair ladies like her. “Fuck you!” she yelled, disgust and rage seeping out from her lips as she jabbed the knife towards him once more.

The intensity in his single eye grew dark, and his voice was a low, almost menacing rumble. “I’m going to enjoy you, Laviniya. Avy jorrāelan.” Just then, a creaking sound in the hallway drew their attention. Aemond turned his head, listening intently to the disturbance.

In a desperate bid for freedom, she made a mad dash towards the door, trying to slip past him. But Aemond was too quick. He snatched her by the arm, yanking her back, stopping her escape. Laviniya reacted instinctively, lashing out with the knife. His quick reflexes caught her wrist, but before she could react, he delivered a forceful backhand blow. The impact knocked the air from her lungs, momentarily stunning her.

Without missing a beat, he grabbed her ankle, and with a violent jerk of her ankle, forcibly pulled her legs out from under her. She hit the hard ground with a thud, a gasp burned from her lungs, a scream ripped from her as she felt her wound break open beneath the bandage again.

Laviniya through her anguished sobbing threw up her free hand, and tried to land a nasty blow on him. Alas, the difference between their physical sizes was too great, and her punches were insufficient to loosen his iron grip on her.

Fuelled by desperation, she reached up and clawed at his face with her sharp nails, digging in as hard as she could to inflict as much pain and damage as possible. In the process, she managed to tear away the eyepatch and the blue sapphire gem from his eye socket, eliciting a low grunt of pain from him as his grip on her knife-wielding hand slackened.

She managed to kick free from his grip, but he quickly recovered, latching onto her ankles once more. However, his hands, slick with a fresh flow of his own blood, slipped momentarily. He grunted in pain as he lost his hold on her. Taking advantage of the momentary respite, she tried to scramble away. However, Aemond managed to hold down her ankles again, determined to keep her from escaping.

His fingers found purchase in the flimsy material of her slippers, his firm grip pulling it off with a single tug, leaving her barefooted and free. She leaped through their rooms open door. With a burst of speed, she bolted away, darting around corners and weaving through winding passages until she finally reached the inn’s main entrance door.

Breathing heavily, heartbeat racing, she charged through the open front door into the humid night.

From the window-sill of their shared room, Aemond’s voice called after her. She looked over her shoulder and saw him crazily leaning out of the window, waving to her, mocking her.

“Don’t go into the forest, Laviniya!” His snarky warning echoed through the night air, “There are wolves, bears, and lions lurking in there!”

Aemond’s booming laughter echoed through the open window behind her, but she barely registered it above the pounding of her own heart and the rush of blood in her ears. Her body racked with nausea, she stumbled to a halt, retching and then wiped her mouth on the back of her trembling wrist. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she glanced down and saw the dagger still clutched in her hand. With a grim determination, she took off in a sprint, heading toward the dense forest. Beasts be damned, as they’re were nothing fearsome to that of King Aemond.

Even when a chilling sound that cut through her senses – the distant barking of dogs and the galloping of a steed.

 ★★★

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

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[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Pearl of The Realm

Aemond x wife!reader | HOTD Big Bang!

Summary: Duty meant a lot of things to Aemond. But he had hoped that it would not mean marriage. And when the day comes for him to confront it, he finds with his new wife, small, naiive and innocent, that there is some pleasure to be found there also.

Word Count: 9,240 (oops) | Warnings below the cut~

A/N: My fic for the HOTD Big Bang! Thank you to the lovely @solisarium for the artwork! 🥰 Please also support all the other lovely writers/artists over @hotd-bigbang, and thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organising this event ❤

Warnings: arranged marriage, virginity loss, p in v sex, domination, corruption kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, canon typical sexism, aemond has a breeding kink (obvi), dark!aemond (ish)

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

To the realm. His title. But most of all, his family.

As a Prince of the Realm, he had many duties.

For most of his adult life he had trained relentlessly with the sword, striving to become better than his own teacher.

He had buried his nose in books, absorbing  information from them, willing them to stick to the insides of his head to obtain intelligence unmatched by any other member of his family.

And, most of all, he had upheld his faithful relationship with his mother, whom he cherished dearly, and his sister equally.

He'd always felt close to the women in his life. But his mother had a special place in his heart. She had been through such hardships, such sacrifice.

And when she'd exploded that night in Driftmark, as inexcusable as she seemed the behaviour to be, he had felt such utter devotion towards her that she would be so angry on his behalf. At a time when he had felt so vulnerable, and felt that his own voice as well as hers had been ignored by the man in their lives.

A man who had so repeatedly, let them down.

He would never admit it out loud, but a part of him sought pleasure in the fact his father was largely bed-bound these days. Even more so that his own father had lost an eye as a result of his worsening condition.

It felt like the Gods were looking down on him and validating him.

But there was one duty he had yet to perform.

Taking a wife.

Unfortunately for him, that time was upon him, and he had no interest in it whatsoever.

As much as Alicent tried, and she really did try, she could not get her second son interested in courting the ladies at the Keep.

As soon as Aemond clapped an eye on the opposite sex, he would retreat in the opposite direction. Not even bothering to engage in conversation, surmising perhaps that he had little in common with them.

He'd never met a lady before who shared the same interests, why start actively seeking them out now?

Alicent's son was in his prime, rooted in adulthood, and she knew it was time, like it or not, that he was wed.

Aemond stood stock still, hands behind his back curled into fists, biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to show his mother the annoyance on his face. Her words were those of truth. He knew that he would eventually have to marry someone, but it did little to take the sting away from it. Often, while his mother talked at him, he looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from his right, to his left, and to his right, again, batting little thoughts in his head.

What his mother didn’t know is what those ladies at court said about him while they supposed his back was turned.

That he was of a violent disposition with a quarrelsome temper, one wrong movement or something as simple as a word spoken out of turn and he would dare not speak to the person in question for however long he deemed fit. That women thought of him as incapable of feeling something as beautiful as love, or even affection, given the sullen look he always wore, with barely-contained anger lurking beneath and an unexpressed pride in his position.

Aemond would never show that such words would have any effect on him with earnest. Sometimes it is better to not say anything at all, he concluded. This method had so often proven successful, it seemed little use to him to stray from it now.

He merely hoped that this woman his mother spoke of with such respect, was not one of the ladies at court.

And mercifully, Aemond sighed with relief that she was not.

Something struck deep within his chest. His mother spoke of her so wonderfully, as if she were a star plucked from the sky, and Aemond pondered if such attributes could be proven correct by simply meeting her once, as Alicent had. What woman, and of what standing, deserved such praise, after only meeting for a short time?

What would she look like? Her mannerisms, her stature, her smile? He found himself haunted by these thoughts without even knowing the woman’s name. Much less, her appearance.

He feared that she might share the same sentiments as the other ladies at court once they were due to meet, chaperoned by her ladies and tainted by their company. Perhaps they had their own opinions that they instilled on her also. She might be afraid of him, he thought. Maybe it is not so bad if she feared him, he allowed himself to think.

Aemond could not find it in his heart to expose himself so willingly to a stranger he was due to wed, and so when word reached the Keep that she had arrived and made her pleasantries, he thought to have mercy on the poor thing, stay clear and not dim her supposed ethereal presence with the darkness that followed at his back since the day he lost his eye.

There was some power in not allowing her to see him until their wedding day.

While a small part of him felt empathetic to the poor girl, that her betrothed chose not to greet her on arrival, another part of him was somewhat self-assured that he had made the right decision. It was the little power he felt he had.

When one thinks of a wedding, they might imagine the Sept beaming with joy, crammed with people all eager to feast their eyes on the new royal couple. But as Aemond stood before the Septon, with the extended feeling of nervousness at the fact she had yet to arrive, he could hear nothing.The Sept was dead silent. The people, the lords and ladies, as well as his family, were in attendance, watching with wide, curious eyes, too terrified to make a sound.

His hands were rigid behind his back, dressed in his finery, feeling the tightness of his clothes against his chest where his heart was hammering underneath.

For duty. For family.

He did not see her at first, as she was on his blind side, but once she’d well and truly stepped beside him, he spared a glance at her and felt his mouth go utterly dry.

Her dress, which he presumed were her house colours, was a light pastel, almost dream-like when combined with the translucent silky fabric graced atop it. He watched with curiosity as she let go of her father’s hand. Her gaze and almost undetectable smile was warm and inviting, as if the space around her was simply alight with her presence. Her father peeled the cloak from her shoulders, and it reminded him that he had the cloak with the Targaryen colours fisted in his grip.

Her hair was pinned up in a series of braids, all varying in size, and he was ashamed to admit that the first thought that came to mind was not that she looked beautiful with them, but that they must be uncomfortable. He was allowed to have his hair loose around his shoulders, whereas this woman, and he supposed others like her, were prodded and poked to look their best to the detriment of their comfort.

Aemond found it impossible to stare ahead and listen to the Septon, and he could’ve let a heavy breath loose when he was asked to cloak her. He swallowed over the lump in his throat that had formed and lifted his gaze to look down at her. Her bright, warm eyes looked up at him, revealing nothing about what she was really thinking, and her lips were full and looked soft, forcing him to think what they would feel like when they would sign their marriage with a kiss later.

He took a breath and placed the cloak on her shoulders, half thinking that such a heavy, large thing would swallow her whole, for her form was smaller than his, and therefore more delicate. Placing his hands on her, but not directly, still felt somewhat intimate, especially in a room of so many people watching. But something stirred deep within when he stepped back and observed that the colours complimented her, like she was meant to be his and belong to him.

They faced each other as the Septon spoke.

Aemond watched every micro-movement. The fluttering of her eyelashes, the deep intakes of breath through her nose and her thumb brushing over her hand, in what he could only assume was nerves, though she was hiding it well on her face.

It was only here that he noticed she wore a dainty pearl necklace, not at all gaudy in size, but small and delicate, like he perceived her to be.

A feeling he didn’t know hummed in his blood. And it showed when both of them were asked to conclude the ceremony with a kiss.

“With this kiss I pledge my love.”

Aemond had to be the one to lean down to meet her in the middle, and he felt his blood thrum when their lips met, excited to find that her lips were as soft as he had imagined. He could not help the lewd thought that passed through his mind, and wondered if the rest of her was as supple and luxurious.

Curse the wedding feast, he wanted to find out right after the ceremony.

He was not overzealous with the kiss, not wanting to frighten her. But he was equally delighted when they parted to the applause of the lords and ladies, to find that her cheeks were faintly bloomed with warmth. His lips pulled into an indistinct smile at the idea that he was the first man that would have made her feel that way, and it pulled a possessive string in Aemond’s body towards her.

He took her hand in his and led her away from the Septon, through the line of people, and relished in the fact that she was now his. Aemond felt somewhat ashamed when his manhood began to harden within his breeches at the mere touch of her hand, and wondered what hers would look like wrapped around it. If her fingers could barely encircle it, and if she would be good and pliant, do as she’s told, and please him.

The wine during the feast surprisingly did nothing to quell the hardness between his legs. He yearned so desperately for her, sat right next to him, posture straight and proper like a good lady wife, with her hands clasped so delicately in her lap. She had yet to say a word to him and he thought she must have been raised very strict, not speaking to her betters without being spoken to first, and now that person was her husband.

It was difficult not to look unimpressed when the various lords and ladies all queued up to provide their congratulations to the intimate little table he and his wife were seated at during the feast.

He watched his mother beam with joy, though he and his wife had not spoken. Aegon had snickered, clearly thinking something inappropriate. And Otto had bowed, offering congratulations as if he had not been involved in the match behind the scenes along with Alicent the entire time. Did he think he was stupid?

Not even his father had managed to pull himself from his bed to offer his congratulations. But, Aemond thought then, he was glad he didn't have to see his face.

At times he could suppress his sheer boredom and impatience, he wanted them all to leave him alone so he could fuck his wife and see what pretty sounds she could make. With the absence of her voice, it only made him more impatient to find out.

Surely, the girl might not have been afraid of him? He thought.

Aemond almost regretted hoping she was afraid of him, but there was some dull excitement in thinking she was, even now, with how beautiful she looked. When he takes her maidenhead, as he was sure she was entirely pure, would her soft eyes look up at him in fear, or in pleasure, or both?

He found his gaze wandering over her for several quiet moments, watching her profile as she scanned the hall, observing everyone else enjoying themselves. Whilst he appeared somewhat indifferent to her to anyone else’s untrained eye, he was otherwise calm and collected. Her lips glistened against the warm amber glow of the candles adorning the table, and he could not hide his delight in seeing how she swallowed nervously. She must have felt his gaze on her, he thought. And as he watched her throat bob, he was drawn to her chest, where the pearls lay, and watched as her breathing pushed her breasts somewhat over the bust of her dress.

He imagined those pearls dancing while he fucked her, her breasts moving with the rhythm of driving his cock into her sweet wetness. Her lips parted with hurried breaths as she struggled to gain it while she appeased him with the sound of her soft moans.

“Are the celebrations to your liking, wife?”

He smirked, testing the title on his tongue.

The insides of him glimmered in excitement when she turned, her posture still perfect and straight. Her wide, innocent eyes met his with curiosity, and also fright that he had spoken to her in such a way. She almost seemed to flinch at the new title he’d referred to her as.

She gave an almost indistinguishable nod, her grip tightening on her hands, “Yes, husband, thank you.” She replied with a wavering voice.

She studied him for a moment, watching as he gave a lopsided smirk, adoring the way she seemed so nervous in his presence, and speaking to her husband. He drank slowly, continuing to watch her squirm under his gaze. Her breathing had hastened, evident by the way she struggled under the tight confines of her boned dress.

Her voice was smooth, like the sweetest honey, and he couldn’t wait to hear how it would translate, echoing throughout their marital chambers, with his flesh pressed against hers.

He never imagined merely envisioning power over something so delicate could be so exhilarating.

Aemond had to hide how elated he was when their leave was announced. He stood, and therefore she did as well, like a delayed little shadow.

She was an obedient little thing, he surmised, as she followed quietly, willfully ignorant to the leering glances and smirks of the lords and ladies who parted a path for them. Every single one of them was curious, as to how such a quiet, soft girl could tame someone so fearsome and chaotic as a dragon prince, who could not be caged in as mere mortal men could.

The chambers seemed too grand, too clunky, to house such a perfect thing as her, he thought. She stood stock still in the middle of his chambers, which he would now share with her, and watched amused as she looked around and took in her surroundings as if she were in some kind of danger. Her pupils flitted about the darkened room, lit only in a warm glow from various candlesticks placed most deliberately.

Her pale dress cast a glow against the grey of the room, as well as her aura, which seemed to lift all the tension from his body and direct it to the place he had needed her the most since he laid his eye on her.

The glass decanter clinked as he poured himself a cup of wine, his back to her.

Aemond turned and extended the decanter only slightly, asking wordlessly if she would like one as well.

But she simply wringed her hands and shook her head, her body wracked with nerves.

Aemond only chuckled, cup of wine in hand and looked upon her, standing so diligently, where he’d left her.

“Wine might dull your nerves, my lady wife.” He mused, watching the way she looked down in embarrassment at being able to see inside her head so clearly.

Every now and then, she would peek over at the well made bed, like it was an inevitability, and not a place where she would share her most intimate and passionate moments with her new husband.

There was a dark red blanket held taught atop the pale sheets.

A warning.

There were never such dark, stark colours atop her bed sheets at home, and she wondered silently why they would choose such a menacing colour to adorn a place where you may lay your head to rest.

A peaceful night’s sleep. A moment’s passion. The birth of a child.

She thought, beds are where we are born, where we sleep, where marriages are made, where women give birth, which is often their last. And where we die. Not necessarily in that order.

Her husband may have thought a bed a peaceful thing.

But to her, many dangerous things may take place in a bed. And she had heard the stories of a dragon’s temper. Of lords, not necessarily of royal standing, taking their wives on their wedding night, whether their wives were willing or not. And this, is what she feared.

“You need not be so afraid.”

He tore her from her thoughts. And she blushed and felt warm all over realising he had caught her staring at the bed, her body betraying how nervous she felt.

When he looked at her, he felt his manhood throb. He wondered if the blood would rush to her cunny the same way it rushed to her cheeks, and how her flesh would cover her delicious curves beneath the softness of her gown.

He felt excited when she opened her mouth, forcing the air into her lungs like it took all her effort.

“May I ask for your assistance with my gown, husband?” She asked sweetly, with her eyes downcast.

Husband.

He felt his cock become impossibly harder.

He poked his cheek with his tongue in amusement, pushing himself off what he was leaning on and made towards her, watching the way she shrunk the closer he got. She turned slowly, showing him her back, where the laces of her dress were tied so tightly, he was surprised she had not asked him sooner.

While he worked on them, loosening the fabric around her middle, his breath hitched when he saw the shift underneath. She moved her hands to her hair, pulling several pins from it where the braids had been twisted together. She visibly shivered under his touch when the laces were undone and he pushed the stiff fabric apart across her back.

Her hair fell to her shoulders, and she used the sharpened tip of the pins to undo the braids into delicate wavy strands, all while unaware how her new husband marvelled at her out of sight.

She walked away from him for a moment to the vanity, never meeting the looking glass with her eyes, but simply placing the pins in a trinket bowl. With the gown loosened around her shoulders, the fabric lifted when she reached up to unclasp the necklace.

“Leave that on.”

She met his gaze in the mirror, questioning. Her cheeks alight with what he was suggesting.

But he didn’t say anything else.

So instead, she cleared her throat quietly, and pulled the heavy dress from her shoulders, folding it lengthways and draping it over an armchair. Her fingers clasped and unclasped, anxious. Aemond merely watched, his doublet feeling tight and hot against his chest. He could make out the silhouette of her form beneath the thin cotton, the candlelight illuminating her, as if her body was the soft and gentle morning sun, peeking over the horizon to set the day alight.

He heard her shuddered breath and allowed himself to think about what it would feel like against his neck while he rutted into her. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling him closer to her, to sink deeper into her hot insides.

“I do hope that…I please you…with my appearance.” She murmured, turning with her body to face him from a distance. She sounded embarrassed, and shy.

Aemond furrowed his brows.

“Why do you say such a thing?” He asked, colder than he had meant to sound. And it’s clear that the tone of it made her shudder more, which he didn’t intend.

“I only meant that…I hope I am pleasing to the eye…and that I shall be obedient and supportive, as a good wife should be.”

He fought the urge to smile, not wanting to embarrass her further. His silence towards her had clearly given her the wrong impression. That he didn’t approve of her, and perhaps she thought that she wasn’t suitable for him because of his reaction.

“Come here.”

She did as he asked, albeit slowly, until she stood right in front of him.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Does my appearance scare you, he thought with curiosity, and panic.

Does my ailment make you uneasy, as it does the other ladies?

She shook her head softly, “No.” She answered quietly, “It’s just… my Septa said…that the night of consummation would be…” she trailed off, speaking too quietly for him to hear.

“It is alright. Speak again, without fear.”

She swallowed as she looked at him, having to crane her neck.

“She said…the night of consummation would be painful…and that it must be endured. As wives are to be submissive and obedient to their husbands.”

She spoke as if she were speaking from a line in a book. And Aemond thought she must have had this idea stamped into her brain from a very young age. It both concerned and irritated him to think that a young child, forming into a young woman, would be forced into being so terrified of such intimacy by a caregiver who ultimately knew little about marriage.

“There will be some pain.” He replied simply, watching the way she flinched at his words, “But I do not wish for you to endure it simply because you have been told to.”

His fingers came to the tresses of hair that hung on her shoulders, threading his fingers through them and revelling in their softness. Her eyelashes fluttered and her lips parted, absorbing his words, and he could see behind them that he was challenging everything she had ever been told.

“If there is pain, you must tell me.”

She inhaled slowly, gathering her nerves, and nodded simply.

“Come. Lay on the bed.”

Though he spoke softer, there was still a coldness to the way he gave his demands. But nonetheless, she did as he said, and stared up to the canopy of the bed, feeling her heart going so fast she was sure it would burst from her chest.

All she heard was the rustling of leather, the unlooping of his belt, and the clinking of his silver clasps.

She felt the mattress dip at the end of the bed and saw her new husband, without his doublet, but with his breeches only untied halfway, so she could not see a thing. But even so, the sight of a man naked on his torso had her heart still in her chest, and warmth crawl up to her cheeks. Aemond chuckled slightly, not wishing to embarrass her.

“Have you seen a man bare before, little one?” He asked, laying down beside her. She tried with the utmost effort to not stare at him, fearing that in some way she would anger him. His chest was well-muscled and pale, shimmering in the low light of the chambers and littered with many tiny scars that had silvered with time. His hair ran like milk over his shoulders, so silky it seemed to stick to his smooth skin.

She shook her head, and mouthed ‘no’. His manhood throbbed in his breeches at the thought that she had not even seen a man beneath his clothes before, and that he would be the first.

“It is alright, there is no need to be embarrassed.” He gave her a soft smile, trying his best to appear comforting.

But it could not be ignored that they were strangers, and it was his fault that he had not gone to see her before marriage and get to know her better. And on top of that, she was afraid, not of him, but that he might hurt her and that it would define her expectations for the rest of the marriage.

She flinched noticeably in shock, not out of fear, but at not having been touched so intimately, when his palm ran softly up her leg, taking her shift with it.

“Relax.”

She tried to do as he said.

She was so jumpy and nervous, Aemond wondered for a brief, funny moment, if she had even spoken to a man before today.

So he asked a question which he thought was almost silly to ask.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

His question was answered immediately when she flushed and her face went all warm, and suddenly she was unable to meet his gaze. She shook her head softly. And instead of feeling bad for her, a devilish grin split across his face, all the blood going south.

She was so pious, and so devoted to the Seven, that she had saved any part of her inner desires for her husband to be.

He would be the first to give her pleasure of any kind.

To touch her intimately.

To make her feel as beautiful as he thought she was.

“It is alright. I shall show you.” He added softly, his voice like the purr of a cat.

She dared to look back at him as his hand trailed higher, dipping beneath the hem of her shift to touch her smooth skin beneath, “How will it feel?...”

“It may feel strange at first,” He answered honestly, “But after that, it should be pleasurable.”

She seemed to accept his answer, but her legs were pressed together almost instinctively, like her body was telling her it needed to appear smaller. His sharp nose pressed into her hair, inhaling her pleasant, female scent. His breath against the shell of her ear, hot puffs of air landing against her neck, where he began to place one, and then two open-mouthed kisses.

His eye wandered over her from this angle. Looking down her body, he could see the shadow of what lay beneath her shift in between her breasts as they moved with her breathing, which was slow and calculated. He could see how her hands held the bedsheets below her in her palm, not tightly, but prepared to pull on them if she needed.

She shivered with a shuddered breath when he kissed her, trailing his lips lower to her collarbone, past her string of delicate pearls, and he could see that beneath the cotton, her nipples had reacted to the chill of the room, but he liked to imagine that it was because of the way he was touching her so lovingly.

His hand completely slipped past where her hip met her leg, not touching her womanhood just yet, but close enough to feel its warmth. He felt the gooseflesh on her tummy as he trailed upwards, the shift bunched against his arm when his palm slid over her breast. She gasped softly as he squeezed tenderly, testing the weight of it in his palm and kneading it, and when he looked up to her briefly, she had closed her eyes.

He would tell her to open them later, after he did what he planned.

Her hips moved towards the mattress when his deft fingers dipped between her legs, the tips parting her folds to her entrance first, where Aemond began to feel the slick, as little as there was, gathered around it.

She was beginning to feel aroused even if she didn't know it.

She whimpered, pressing her lips together when she felt his fingers in such a strange, forbidden place. Her eyebrows furrowed in discomfort.

"Shh…" He cooed, the air brushing against her cheek, "Relax, dear wife."

She swallowed thick, and relaxed her thighs so that they weren't pushed together as much. The title he'd given her making her head feel as if it were full of air and nothing else.

A part of her felt bad. For she was supposed to be an obedient, pliant little wife, and he was taking care of her so diligently and she was still afraid.

"I apologise-"

"Do not apologise." He replied quickly, and her eyes opened, glistening with a new expression of understanding, "Only feel."

Her breath quickened.

Feel?

"Feel how I touch you here -"

He drew his fingers from her entrance to her pearl, drawing little soft circles using her arousal for ease. Her mouth dropped open, her eyes glued to him, a near-indistinguishable gasp falling from her lips. She began to feel a sort of ache, deep in her stomach that felt strange. And her hips began to move in micro-movements.

"This is where you feel the most pleasure." He whispered, his fingers moving sometimes directly and then indirectly over her pearl. At others, the anticipation of them being close to it had her hips searching for the touch.

"How does it feel?" He asked.

She struggled to think of a word, having never felt this dull and yet pleasurable rush to her core.

"Strange…pleasantly so."

He continued to move slowly, not making a direct effort to make her peak like this, just allowing her to feel what the touch of a man, the touch of her husband, could feel like.

"I will prepare you like this, so that there will be as little pain as possible."

Maintaining eye contact while he said things like that, while he did things to her like this, felt so intimate and so painfully domestic. As if nobody had bothered to care for her so much in her life. Her eyes curiously flitted between his seeing one and his eyepatch, not in fear, but wondering what he might be hiding beneath it.

It would not be removed this night. Or perhaps many to come.

Aemond's fingers moved over her womanhood with ease, more slick began to pool there and lubricate her puffy folds, swollen with arousal. She was wet, but he thought not prepared enough for his cock just yet.

He shifted his body down, his cheek grazing over her still clothed form, as if he was teasing himself. He could easily have asked her to be naked for him. But there was still trust to be gained.

Her eyes were questioning where he might be going. And she truly had no idea.

Using his knee, he settled between her legs, seeing the gooseflesh still there. His hands rucked up her shift, just pausing at the point where it would reveal her womanhood, all slick and ready for him. Her cheeks bloomed as she looked down at him, but didn't have the courage to question.

"Keep your eyes on me." He whispered lowly, his fingers pushing the fabric up so that he could see her cunt, so close to his face. And he was hit right then with the invigorating scent of her, like the sweetest perfume. He felt ashamed that even the scent of her aroused little cunny made his cock weep with arousal.

She looked more embarrassed than anything to have her new husband's face so close to her intimate area she had been taught to keep hidden. And it was hard for her to keep her legs apart. But she couldn't close them for fear of clamping on his head, and his hands were tenderly keeping them spread, his fingers only slightly indented in her supple flesh.

He looked down upon her, his thumb grazing her pearl again and watching with delight as her hips moved again, accompanied with a breath. It was simply too tempting, the idea of tasting her and the sweet nectar that leaked from within.

Holding her thighs, he leaned forward and flattened his tongue against her womanhood, and something primal was awoken inside when he finally tasted his new, little wife. He moved around her folds, and whenever he had to take a breath he placed an open-mouth kiss to it. He spared a glance up at her, and he hadn’t even heard her hurried breathing or tiny whispers of moans, so engrossed in tasting her for the first time.

Her cheeks were alight, her eyes torn between settling on his gaze and what he was doing to her. He had already told her to keep her eyes on him, and Aemond felt pleased that despite how embarrassed she was, she was obeying him.

Aemond redoubled his efforts, using his tongue to part her folds and nuzzling deeper against her, his nose rubbing gently against her pearl and using his wet muscle to dip against her entrance. It’s here that she gave some semblance of a proper moan, slipping shakily out of her throat, her hands tightening on the bed sheets.

He all but moaned against her cunt, delving into the deepest parts of her and dragging his tongue against the top of her velvety walls, trying to find out why she was the way she was. What made her feel the best. How he could make more of those pretty sounds tumble past her lips. He thought he could have spent all his life between her thighs, lapping at her arousal, and he would die a happy man.

In his grip, her thighs began to shake, and her brows furrowed like she didn’t understand what this feeling coursing through her veins was, this fire ablaze in her blood. Pride flooded his head, and he dragged his tongue from the inside of her to her pearl, where he drew circles over it. She jolted in his hold, as if he’d scared her, but he knew that it was because of the overwhelming feeling that was beginning to crest over her, and the uncertainty of it.

With his attention and efforts on her bud alone and she was suitably wet, he looked up at her when he touched her entrance with the pad of his finger. He heard her gasp when he slowly sank one digit inside her, he himself struggling to keep his composure once he realised just how tight she was around his finger alone. And he could barely think straight thinking about how she would feel wrapped around his cock.

He could forgive for the time being that her eyes were closed and brows furrowed, for the new sensation must have been strange for her. Something akin to a strangled whine rumbled from her chest when he was sank all the way inside, curling upwards. And when he brushed against that spot at the top of her walls, gently caressing the slick ridges, her back arched slightly off the mattress, and he smiled against her womanhood.

It appears his little wife was becoming emboldened in her movements by what he was doing to her.

As he continued to please his wife in two separate ways, almost instinctively, her hand came to his bare shoulder. To pull him close? To push him away? She wasn’t entirely sure herself.

He could tell she was on the precipice of something she was unable to comprehend, and was embarrassed to show herself in such an open way.

 “What is it, sweet wife?” he asked, drawing his lips from her, now covered entirely in her arousal when he licked at it.

Through her loud pants, she regained her breath as he continued to tease that deep spot inside of her, “What is…” She breathed, her grip closing around his shoulders. Her nails dug into his flesh, not meaning to, which made him smirk.

“Shh, it’s alright.” He cooed, pulling out slightly to slide a second finger inside, using the girth of his fingers to stretch her cunt around him, “I am just making sure you are ready for me.”

He began to pump his fingers inside her like he would fuck her, curling them up to focus his attention and pressure against the sweet spot at the end of her. She was so tight around him, already trying to suck him further inside and clenching hard. He felt his skin stretch around her grip on his shoulder, like she didn’t realise how hard she was holding him.

“ - Aemond - I’m - ”

Aemond.

The way she called him by his name.

There was no shame now in how hard it made him, and he felt as if he would spill right in his breeches and not inside her if she was going to say things like that.

A breathy whine made its way from her mouth, her eyes tightly shut as her face twisted in pleasure, feeling all the pressure leak into her limbs in bliss while Aemond kept pleasuring her, loving how her body was uncontrollably trembling with the force of her peak. He could feel the rush of slick coat his fingers and hand, so he slowed down the pace of his movements, allowing his sweet wife to savour the feeling she’d experienced here for the first time.

“That was your peak, little one.”

Her eyes opened to focus on him, feeling her body erupt in shivers as he pulled his digits from her and smeared her wetness over her thighs, thinking that as erotic and lewd the action was, that is excited her at the place where her husband had just been caressing with his fingers and tongue.

Her pupils were dilated only a bit larger than before, and Aemond felt pride in being the first to make her feel such things, awakening a part of her that had remained dormant for a long time. And while she had been emboldened by what he’d done to please her, her cheeks still bloomed with a faint embarrassment that he found endearing.

His hands traced her sides, taking her shift with it, and her breath hitched at the idea she would be entirely bare before her new husband, who had just given her the first experience of female pleasure. But alongside the trepidation, there was excitement.

Once he pulled her shift over her head and raked his gaze over every inch of her body.

It was a fucking crime that she’d been hiding herself under that gown all evening, he thought.

He thought she was perfection, with her soft and supple curves, and he hadn’t even realised his calloused hands had been kneading her breast until she let out a breathy sound. But she didn’t protest. She just appeared somewhat uncomfortable, as this was the first time she had shown herself so openly to the opposite sex.

“You are beautiful.”

She seemed to calm at least when he said that, relieved her husband found her attractive.

He saw her eyes flit from his one seeing eye to the eyepatch covered one, curious. But she simply swallowed thickly and didn’t say or ask anything. And he too was relieved that she hadn’t asked him to remove it.

He was not sure if he would be ready for that, for some time.

She still wore the little pearls around her neck, and now with her entirely naked with the exception of that, it felt erotic and arousing.

They were the same.

She wore the necklace, he wore the eyepatch, keeping a tiny piece of themself while they joined in matrimonial bliss.

He unlaced the rest of his breeches, watching her breasts move up and down as she breathed in anticipation of what was going to happen and the irreversible fact that she would never be the same afterwards.

“Remember what I said?” he asked, pulling his breeches over his hips. His achingly hard cock sprang free, standing proud and aroused against his stomach.

She took a moment to reply, trying not to stare too much at his member as he stroked himself slowly, the ruddy tip, weeping with arousal, poked out of his fist with every languid movement. She’d never seen one before. But all she knew was that she wondered how on earth it would fit inside her, he looked so thick and long, slightly curved to one side. Was there empty space inside of her she didn’t know about where he would place himself?

Her eyes met his, all glazed over, and she nodded.

“If there is pain, I must tell you.” She repeated what he’d said earlier. Her skin bloomed, for that moment was here right before them.

She tried to relax her body, numb from the force of her very first peak, as the mattress dipped either side of her where he’d leaned on his forearms, his knee brushing the inside of her legs as he nudged them apart so he could place himself there.

“Yes, you must.” He added tenderly, “It is not my intention to hurt you.”

The affection in his words made her stomach roll.

“You are my wife.”

She confirmed with delight that she was. And she nodded, not knowing what to say in response to his statement, but Aemond could see the subtle glimmer in her eyes.

He saw her glance at his manhood with something akin to a mix of fear and curiosity, and she took a sharp breath in as Aemond leaned forward, not pressing his weight on her, and placed several open-mouthed kisses to her jaw, neck and collarbone, teasing her with his teeth, while his cock kissed her puffy folds.

She felt his breath at her skin, her grip loosening on the sheets as he made her feel a little more relaxed.

When he leant forward, parting her folds easily with the aid of her slick, the first thought she had was that it felt strange, but nothing else in particular. It was only when his cockhead had disappeard inside her and he speared her upon his length that she began to tense up, her stomach tightening somewhat unpleasantly. Her hand came automatically to his chest, to try and push him away and make him stop.

He raised his head from her neck, his eye hooded down in concern. He felt her soft, almost-hummingbird-like touch on his chest and felt something fluttering inside of him at the tenderness of it. She was in some pain, not dramatically so, and yet her touch was so gentle.

Nothing was said, and only the utmost patience was offered. And it was difficult to do so for Aemond, with the way her core was holding him so tightly, to stay still and not move an inch. But for the sake of making her feel safe, he did it.

After a moment, she made an effort to relax her muscles for him. Her hand trailed over his muscled chest, as if taking this small window of opportunity to do so. Her fingers ran over the scars he’d gained on his lithe form, wanting to commit every ridge, every little piece of him to her memory as if it was the last time she’d ever see him.

Her eyes shifted to him once he sheathed himself inside her all the way, bottoming out with a low groan. He felt her walls fluttering around him, stretching her to accommodate this size, having not felt anything like this before. Her lips parted to let a soft pained sound past her lips, but that was all, and she felt the worst was behind her.

It felt only slightly uncomfortable, but she was willing to do it for this marriage. To please him.

It was intimate, looking right at her while he was deep inside her, and she gave the faintest of nods, telling him without words that she was alright. She thought she'd never felt more full in her life, nor more connected to someone as she was right at this moment.

It hurt at first, yes, but he had prepared her, waited for her and cherished her like she was precious. And the pain, the sting of losing her maidenhead, was a small price to pay for how full her heart felt, by giving a piece of her to him.

Closing his eye, as if to concentrate, Aemond moved almost entirely out of her to push back in as she gasped below him, the same feeling the second time had a spark licking at her insides that didn’t stop as he began his slow and careful pace. He wanted to tear his gaze off her, desperately, but couldn’t.

It was just as he imagined. With every soft thrust inside her, the pearls at her neck danced, and her cheeks were flushed, eyes shimmering. It wasn’t as animalistically lustful as he envisioned. Before he imagined an innocent thing like her, bending to his will, corrupting her in any way he saw fit.

But now more than anything as he listened to the gentle moans come out of her, he wanted to protect her, to nurture and watch her flourish. The pearls clicked against each other at her neck, her breasts moved, nipples pebbled with arousal, and she’d raised her legs only slightly to wrap around his waist, blinking slowly up at him.

The whore Aegon had gotten him to fuck on his thirteenth nameday was overzealous, large-breasted and older, perhaps more experienced. She had bounced on top of him, her loud moans bouncing off every surface in the room, her hands planted on his chest as she moved her hips up and down on him with loud slaps. He remembered feeling horrified that this is what intimacy was. That this is what men would desire so relentlessly.

It didn’t feel good. And he remembered feeling sick.

But here, with her, looking so lovingly up at him. No hysterical moaning, no pathetic whines to boost his male ego. Just unapologetically everything she was feeling, she was giving to him.

It felt like a gift. To experience real intimacy. And with the person he was due to spend the remainder of his days with.

As if realising he was daydreaming, his hips still moving against her with wet slaps of skin, her hand cupped his face, on the unmarred side, and her thumb stroked over his cheekbone. She touched him so softly he could have wept.

She had seen some kind of thoughtfulness on his face, and in the throes of consummation, was supporting him.

“Aemond.”

When she said his name with such sincerity and care, he blinked slowly and reached his hand up to hers, encircling his fingers around her small wrist, and turned his face into her palm, to kiss the inside tenderly. One kiss to her palm, and one to her wrist. And it felt more intimate than kissing on the lips, which he only now realised with shame, that he’d not done for her yet.

“I am alright.”

He looked at her when she said that. It was as if she could see all of his inner thoughts, and had been able to all evening.

She saw that he had been holding back.

He had been afraid of frightening her, and yet she was allowing him what he wanted.

Her breath caught in her chest with a kind of excitement as his fingers wrapped around her wrist and forced it down to the bed beside her head, his other hand joining her other to keep her pinned tightly under him to the mattress. Her eyes glimmered as she looked up at him, watching his expression change to something more possessive.

“Put your legs around me.”

She did as he asked and raised her legs around his waist, causing his length to brush that same spot inside her that he’d pleasured just moments before. And with an iron grip on her wrists and easier access to her, he dipped his head into her neck, her scent swirling around him and fucked her as he had wanted to the entire evening.

Skin slapped against one another with the moisture of her slick on his pelvis, his stones hitting against her repeatedly with every rough thrust into her wet cunt.

"Does my innocent little wife like to be properly fucked, hm?" He grunts, watching how she blushes and turns her head away out of embarrassment.

"I think you will continue to surprise me, little pearl."

She felt her insides clench at the name he gave her.

Little pearl.

Aemond smirked, increasing the intensity of his driving into her, constantly spearing her open onto his cock, and watching at the way he disappeared into her.

"I can feel you tightening around my cock. Did you like that? Little pearl?"

Her breath was sucked from her with each devastating thrust, and that same pressure was beginning to build in her belly, from when he'd pleasured her before.

"Answer me.”

"Yes - yes, husband - " She replied, breathlessly and gulping for air, throwing her head back against the bed sheets.

He smirked, leaning back and watching how his cock was being covered in her slick everytime he pulled out of her.

He pulled her hips onto his lap, and the angle had his cockhead bullying her tender and sensitive place deep inside of her. Her eyebrows furrowed with pleasure, feeling utterly at his mercy.

Feeling proud of the reactions he was getting, his hand slipped from her hip to her bud. Her pearl. A grin splitting across his face at the lewd thoughts he was having. He circled her sensitive bud tenderly, applying just enough pressure that she clenched around him again.

If she wasn't careful, he would cum right there and then.

"Does that feel good, little one?" He teased her in a low tone, not ceasing his endless pace, pushing himself as far inside her as he could.

"Do you like it when I touch you here?"

She couldn't deny she liked it. The way her back arched, being pleasures in two ways. It was nearly overwhelming. And it took her voice from her.

"Perhaps we should name you Pearl of the Realm." He smirked, increasing both his pace and pressure, "Prim, proper…a good little obedient wife to her lord and husband."

He leaned over, changing the angle yet again.

"But in here, with me, it is this pearl I shall be paying special attention to, dear wife."

His words made her tighten around him, coupled with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving her. She felt her entire body get hot, the pressure in her belly set to explode at any moment.

His delicate and careful ministrations to her bundle of nerves was almost too much, and her hips began to move forward towards his in rhythm with his cock stretching her open, meeting him halfway.

She didn't imagine such lewd words would have an effect on her.

"Husband - "

"I think I will keep you like this. All night if I have to. Paying special attention to this precious pearl you have been neglecting for so long." He mused, his words were strained, as if set to explode himself.

"I will give you my seed. Over and over. Until I am done with you." He breathed through heavy pants, his eye slipping shut, "I will watch you swell with my child. Would you like that?"

She could only whimper in response, fisting the bed sheets as she had nothing else to hold onto, her mouth dropping open as her climax began to crest.

"I would like that. To see these perfect tits all round and full."

The idea of bearing his children was only a fantasy that appeared right at that moment.

"Gods - you are so tight - such a perfect little cunt - fuck - "

She fell apart around him, her entire body filled with such eternal feeling bliss that she felt as if she were floating, her husband's deft fingers still pleasuring her bud.

Her limbs felt numb, her blood like fire under her skin and her lips dropped apart so that a shattered moan could escape her, the only proof that her peak was decimating every nerve in her body with blinding, white hot pleasure.

She tightened impossibly around him, and the pistoning of his cock into her sex was only stilled when he slammed inside her one last time. His length throbbed within her, his spend warming her core at the end and filling her, completing this sacred, intimate ceremony.

They both gulped down air desperately and when Aemond had caught a moment to himself, he spared a look down at his sweet wife, her delicate skin covered in a soft sheen of sweat, eyes shut, breasts shifting erratically with her breathing.

She must have felt his gaze on her, because she turned her head to look up at him. In her once innocent and naive gaze he once saw fear and trepidation. And now her pupils were blown wide and glimmered with lust and a kind of pride that she'd pleased him, and they'd done this together.

Aemond still had a grip on her hips, noticing the red marks where his fingers had been. Her body was littered with them, where he'd been too tempted to nibble at her, to make sure she bore the marks of his passion for her.

He looked down where they were joined, pulling out of her and watching with a lustful curiosity at his spend that leaked from her entrance. It was instinctual, the way two fingers scooped up what had come out, and he gently plunged it back into her as far as he would go.

Overstimulated and tired, she winced, bucking her hips slightly.

Aemond only smiled down at her.

"I can hardly wait to make you a mother, little one."

She laughed a little, exhausted, "You speak of children. We have only lay together once."

Aemond took her reply and smirked, pulling her thighs close to him again.

"In that case - might we try again? I dare say I have already forgotten the first time."

His little pearl smiled tenderly up at him. A safe smile. One of utter adoration. It was like he was being seen, truly seen, for the first time in his life. She had been so good to him in the short time he'd known her, and cared enough to let him see her as well.

He felt fulfilled in a way he never had before. Something exciting ran through his blood, like how he felt whenever he trained. As if a new challenge were upon him.

Challenging the notion that had been placed upon him his entire life, that marriage was about ownership. As a wife should belong entirely to her husband.

And while he felt that sheer possessiveness before he really knew her. Knew her properly.

Now, he questioned if marriage was more about respect than anything else.

The fabric covering his eye now felt so heavy. And one day, he thought, he hoped to be able to show himself so openly to her, as she had done for him.

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

And he would pay his little pearl all the attention she so deserved.

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[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (1/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: the angst, kidnapping and imprisonment, abuse of power, violence, panic attack ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It took him a long time to bring her to the Red Keep. Too long, to his frustration – while Aegon on his throne preferred to loudly announce to his subjects things he could not provide for them, he acted in silence, trying to ensure that he was always one step ahead of their sister-whore.

When Larys Strong's spies reported to them that Rhaenyra was seeking dragon seed among the bastards in King's Landing his brother laughed, but he, their mother and all the lords were horrified.

This meant that the slight advantage Vhagar had given them was going to be in vain, as she stood no chance in a confrontation with so many dragons.

Helaena was riding Dreamfyre, but at his words to move into battle with him she covered her ears and turned her head away, saying she would never burn anyone. Daeron's dragon was still too small, so that left him and Aegon, who was the King and could not die, on the battlefield.

That was not enough.

And then it dawned on him.

Rhea Royce must have been devastated after learning that her hated husband's seed had taken root in her womb. The whole kingdom knew that she and his uncle loathed each other sincerely, and while he stayed in King's Landing, she remained in Runestone.

He thought she certainly felt satisfaction when she gave him a daughter, although the Rough Prince wanted a son.

According to rumour, she was born accompanied by her mother's loud groans a few months apart after his own birth, and was supposed to be the reason Daemon waited with murdering her mother: he did not want the burden of caring for a newborn child to fall on him.

Though he would never admit it out loud, of the many lords or bastards born of dragon seed, his choice was guided not only by her close kinship to their family, but also by the fact that having her by his side could be a humiliation to his uncle, a show of his strength, prudence and sheer malice.

Of how dangerous he was not only because of Vhagar.

He had prepared an ambush for her with reverence, through Strong's spy network weaving servants close to her into his plan.

He had no idea what kind of woman she was, whether or not she resisted, whether or not she could wield a sword like her mother, but he received a letter weeks later that they had succeeded, and Daemon's daughter was heading for King's Landing against her will.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his fingertips at the thought of what he would be able to do with her: if he found her pretty and humble enough, if indeed she succeeded in taming a dragon, he could try to invalidate his betrothal to the Baratheon whore and allow her to receive the honour of bearing his heirs instead.

His own dragon inheritance.

When she finally arrived, she was, much to his mother's displeasure, placed in a dungeon – he wanted her to understand that her situation was serious and that any answer from her that did not satisfy him would end in one way.

Her death.

He went down to the underground with the guards and dismissed them when he stopped under her cell with the torch in his hand, its light exposed her face to him.

She was sitting on the ground with her knees tucked under her chin, her head raised towards him, the look of her eyes frustrated and grim, her dark brows arched in displeasure.

She was not afraid.

For now.

He looked at her figure from top to bottom, finding that he had imagined her differently: he had hoped to see any Targaryen features in her. However, her long hair was dark, her eyelashes long and black, like a fan surrounding her brown eyes, which were as big as those of a doe.

Clearly it was her mother's blood that prevailed, he thought with disappointment, however his face remained stony.

"Do you know who I am, woman?" He asked coldly, the corner of her mouth twitching, her gaze softening as if his words amused her, making him feel uneasy.

"It's hard not to guess." She replied without any pleasantries.

He licked his lower lip in a gesture of frustration, recognising that he would not allow himself to be verbally dominated by her.

He had to knock her off her guard.

"Do you understand why you're here?"

She sighed heavily, looking down at her fingers, suddenly tired and small, like a child who wanted to go to sleep already.

"Because of my father, I guess. You are wasting your time. I don't represent any value to him. He will not pact with you for my sake." She said, and he snorted, grinning broadly – she looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"You are mistaken. We need your blood."

She shook her head, shocked by his words, raising her shoulders in a gesture as if trying to defend herself against what she just heard.

He liked the look of terror on her face, no doubt at the thought that they were about to cut her wrists open and drain her of blood like an animal.

"We will find one of the wild dragons hidden in the mountain caves and you will try to claim it. You will die, or you will succeed and join the war on our side." He said coldly, and she burst out laughing, as if she hadn't heard a greater foolishness in a long time, causing his jaw to clench in fury.

Stupid cunt.

"I know nothing about dragons or their riders and have no desire to learn about them. This, I think, is something that is destined for those endowed by the gods with white hair. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for your family. Behead me or burn me, but spare me this farce." She sneered, looking away, as if she thought she could get away with such impudent words.

She picked herself up and took a few steps back as he unlocked her cell and a moment later he was beside her, dropping the torch to the stone floor, grabbing her by the neck, her body and head hitting the wall hard.

He stared at her for a moment, listening to her heavy breath as if she was choking, panic in her big, brown eyes.

Fear suited her.

"Do you think I'm asking you for your opinion? You will serve me, and you will serve me well, or I will burn not you, but all of the fucking Vale. Only dust and ashes will be left of the people you knew. Is that what you want, my Lady?" He scoffed, and she shook her head quickly, her lower lip quivering all over, her small, soft hands clenched on his wrist.

He leaned over her, digging his fingers deeper into her delicate skin as if he wanted to break her neck.

"So we have an agreement, as I understand it?" He whispered, as if asking her a secret, something only he should hear.

Her eyebrows arched in pain, her plump lips parted in a deep, shuddering breath as she nodded, her warm gaze filled with pain and regret at the same time.

Was she now begging in her mind for her father to save her?

For him to come to her rescue?

The thought made him want to laugh.

"Mmm." He hummed, looking at her red eyes and full lips, feeling a strange kind of intimacy now that he could feel her veins, her blood, dragon's blood, pulsing under her bare skin.

Their shared heritage.

His seed was stronger than Daemon's, he thought with a confidence bordering on vanity.

Their children would have his white hair.

He felt arousal at that thought, his length pulsed softly in his breeches.

He let go of her, and she took a deep breath, sliding to the ground, clutching at her neck where he'd driven his fingers.

"You will be moved to one of the chambers. You will not lack anything. Serve me well and no more harm will befall you." He said in an offhand manner and simply left, satisfied with how childishly simple it was.

The women and their soft hearts, their despair at the thought that someone else might lose their life because of them, their eternal pondering and tenderness that made them so weak.

"I have heard of your success, brother. I was told we had a visitor in the Keep." Said Aegon, glancing at him, seated at the other end of the table, while his hand played with the marble green orb lying before him.

"Yes. She will obey us. I will personally prepare her." He said, resting his elbows on the table top.

The King laughed.

"You, brother? What does your beloved betrothed in Storm's End would say about it?" He sneered, glancing at the lords around them as if asking if his joke was in fact funny.

He grinned, trying to contain his anger and that familiar, unpleasant feeling of humiliation rippling through his chest.

"Who else would do this? You, with your superior knowledge of the language of Old Valyria will teach her commands and behaviour towards a wild dragon?" He asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother grew pale and swallowed hard, tense, feeling that he had lost this battle.

"Bring her in." He ordered.

Soon the door to the room opened, and she walked in, accompanied by the guards: she was wearing one of his mother's old brown gowns, its red sleeves reaching to the ground. Her hair was loose but not in disarray, falling gently down her back, as if she had not let any servant touch it and combed it herself.

"Come closer, cousin." Said Aegon with a smile, raising his hand and nodding, clearly wanting to encourage her.

She reluctantly took a few steps closer, looking around the assembled people anxiously, finally meeting his gaze – she stopped for a moment at his face, as if she was thinking hard about something, and then turned her head away, suddenly tired and resigned.

Good, he thought.

There was no need for her to stand up to him.

"We are overjoyed by your presence, even though you were brought here under not very pleasant circumstances. I hope you will quickly forget about these… discomforts and support us in our cause. My brother is extremely eager to prepare you for this." Aegon said, her lips twitching in a grimace that he didn't like when he mentioned him, but no words left her mouth.

"Are you not glad to face your father? Did he not forget you and abandon you for so many years?" Continued Aegon, their mother looked at him and shook her head, wanting him to stop.

She lifted her gaze to his brother-king and looked at him for a moment, her expression gentle and calm.

"I have nothing to say to you, cousin. Do with me what you wish."

A heavy, uncomfortable silence fell around them – he feared what Aegon would do with this insult – the fact that she had humiliated him by simply calling him her cousin, speaking to him without proper etiquette or manners.

Aegon pressed his lips together and leaned forward, as if thinking hard about something.

"Our family has forgotten you. Left you the fuck knows where, motherless and fatherless. And I am deeply sorry for it."

He looked at him shocked, not believing that he had said such a thing, apologised to her even though it was she who had offended him, and then looked at her face – her eyes turned red, her lips parted slightly, as if he had stuck a needle straight into her heart.

What was he doing?

Aegon spread himself comfortably in his chair with a loud creak of wood, smiling with satisfaction.

"You may leave."

He did not know why he had been furious all evening, why, bent over the maps of Westeros, planning his fucking war, he had been unable to focus or calm himself.

He knew why his brother had done it: he wanted to bond with her, to show him that he was the one she would obey, that he was in control of the situation, that he was the King.

"Bring our prisoner." He ordered loudly so that the servant who was just taking the tray from his table heard it.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

When she walked into his chamber she stopped immediately behind the door, which closed behind her with a loud clatter. He glanced up at her dispassionately and looked again at the books he had taken from his shelves, which he had often browsed through as a child.

This was his legacy, not hers.

But he had to do it.

"Come here. Sit down." He said dryly and after a moment he heard the rustling of her gown.

As she sat in the chair beside him he smelled her, some kind of oil that scented of field flowers, chamomile or daisies, and he thought that she had taken a bath.

Something in that thought, in the idea of her bare, soft body sunk in the warm water, made his manhood throb pleasantly, tingling heat spreading through his lower abdomen.

He moved one of the books towards her, open to the page on which was written what he wanted to discuss with her.

"Can you read?" He asked coldly, and she threw him a look from which he felt like grabbing her cheeks and shaking that little head of hers.

She didn't answer, which frustrated him even more, clutching the volume in her hands and leaning over it, following the text with her eyes.

So she could read, he thought mockingly.

"The dragons understand the language of Old Valyria, and this is how the dragon riders communicate with them. You have to learn to speak the commands properly." He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling tired and discouraged.

"Dohaerās means serve. Rȳbās means listen. These are the most important words, right next to Lykirī, which commands a dragon to remain calm." He said, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. "Repeat."

Silence.

He pressed his lips together, opening his eyes, thinking he was about to kill her with his own hands.

He looked at her, wanting to hiss to her that he was going to slam her head against the table until she dutifully recited each of the words he was ordering her to repeat but his voice stuck in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

He had the impression that although she froze in stillness, her whole body was quivering, as if she was cold.

Her eyes were open wide in fear, and even though her lips were pressed into a thin line she was breathing heavily, as if she were suffocating, her fingers clenched on the back of the book.

Was it possible that she had heard these words before, had read a book similar to this?

Did Daemon try to teach her the language of Old Valyria when she was a child?

He didn't know what he should do, feeling that if he touched her she would just fall apart, so he merely looked at her, wondering how such a person was supposed to tame a dragon.

He rose from his seat as if burned, snapped out of his reverie when her eyes rolled back and she simply fainted, her body, numb and heavy slid to the floor beneath their feet.

He circled the table and knelt beside her, slapping his palm against her cheek in an attempt to revive her, but she did not wake up.

"Bring the Maester, quickly!" He called out and cursed loudly, restraining himself from screaming with rage.

"What have you done to her?" His mother hissed quietly, so that only he could hear it while the Maester examined her.

He turned his face away and shook his head, wondering if everyone in this damned fortress was against him.

After all, he was doing this for them.

For their family.

"Nothing. She was only supposed to read a few words. I didn't even touch her." He growled, his hands intertwined behind his back clenched into a fist.

Why didn't she trust him?

Why was she looking at him like this, as if she didn't recognise him?

Hadn't he always been faithful to her?

"What words? What did you say to her?"

"Words in Old Valyrian, nothing more. She must learn it if she is not to burn in the dragon fire, and our efforts are not to be in vain." He scoffed impatiently.

"We do not know what Daemon did to her. Whether she saw her mother die."

"I don't care what he did to her or what she saw." He said, throwing her a look from which she froze. "We have an agreement and she knows what will happen if she doesn't fulfill it."

"What will happen? You'll burn the Vale?" Alicent asked with a sneer, and he pressed his lips together, feeling a terrible, piercing shame.

"She will stay in my care tonight. Don't go near her until she recovers." She told him and stepped around him.

He felt as if she had slapped him in the face so he left, not wanting anyone to see the burning tears of disappointment that had gathered under his eyelids.

He didn't let them flow.

He was not weak.

He was not like her.

He was not like Aegon.

He was not like his father.

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (VIII)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,115

CW: MDI 18+, SMUT, p in v, loss of virginity, oral (f and m receving), fingering, possesivness, corruption kink, praise kink (use of good girl) toxic relationship, manipulation, mommy issues, co-dependancy issues, not proofread!

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my Original characters

a/n sorry it took so long to update...but heres the wedding night!, next chapter will be a time skip!

(go to the divider by @zaldritzosrose, to skip the smut)

The feast passed over in the blink of an eye and before she knew it her and Aemond stood in his, or now their shared chambers.

Her belongings had been moved over during the ceremony, though they all seemed slightly out of place amongst his things.

Before, in the rare times she was in Aemond’s room, everything was always neat, nothing out of its designated spot, though his rooms lacked anything too personal, with no tapestries or rugs, nothing to permanent too show they were his.

Though it was no surprised that he seemed to have been own personal library in his rooms, with a whole wall dedicated to his collection.

Now the rooms seemed warmer, with his bookcase draped in her tapestries, the floor covered in her rugs. And his bed filled with her mountains for pillows and blankets. His room was bigger than hers, and it allowed everything, even her seemingly endless wardrobe to fit in effortlessly.  Though apart of it still felt strange. Perhaps it was how the furniture was so different from hers. Where her bed was carved with sea horses and dragons, his was bare, bar the one carving at the centre of his bed, a dragon, Vaghar.

Her vanity had been brought in, all her belongings placed perfectly, her new chemise placed carefully on the bed.

Her maid, Jeyne, had accompanied her. Taking of her dress and her jewels.

She already missed her gown, hating that she only got to where it for a few hours and would never be worn again.

“Would you like to keep it?” Jeyne asked softly, as she brushed through Aemma’s hair.

“yes” she nodded, it was such a beautiful dress, weeks and weeks had gone into the design alone. With its ivory coloured, laced with gold designs of dragons. The way the were sewn in away that they almost looked as if they were dancing, some beaded with emeralds, some with sapphires and the others beaded with black opal gems. “its too beautiful to be discarded off, may haps we could have the dress made into another gown.”

Jeyne smiled softly, “of course, princess”.

The door opened then, and Aemond entered.

Jeyne stepped back, curtsying before leaving the room.

They were alone, truly alone. It was different than all the times before, this time she stood before him, in a sheer chemise, that left almost nothing to the imagination.

“Aemond” she whispered as he stepped into the room.

He wore a rich red robe, where he had changed you did not know, but the sight of his bare chest peaking out from his robe, caused all thoughts to cease.

“Aemma,” he moved towards you, smiling, his eyes filled with something akin to a predator watching its prey. “you look stunning” he hummed, his hands coming up to play with the straps of your chemise.

You gave him a shy smile, “i-I so are you?” she said, nervously.

He hummed again, moving her strap to fall of her shoulders, “are you nervous?”                                

“yes”

He hummed, his hand reaching up to grab her breast, she gasped. “good” he whispered, “it will hurt, but only the first time, and then…then my sweet Aemma you will feel nothing but pleasure” he vowed, moving up to take her lips in his.

She moaned into his mouth, her feet stumbling backward until she landed on the bed. She gasped softly as she did. He leaned over her once they had reached the bed, his hand gasping her chin as he pulled her into another kiss, before pulling back and standing between her legs.

He kissed his thumb as he moved back to look at her, taking in her form. Her hair messed slightly, her chemise had fallen slightly, only one move away before falling off and revelling her breasts to him.

“off” he said, motioning her to stand up, nervously she did, her hands going to pull her chemises up, “no,” he said, stopping her, “I shall see all of you”

She looked down at the floor nervously, before reaching once again towards her straps.

As she pulled her chemise down, Aemond let out a loan groan.

“gods, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen” he said, causing her to blush.

“I want to see you to.”

Aemond smirked, reaching to pull of his robe, he bared himself to her. His full form, the muscles on his chest, his half erect cock.

She blushed even more taking him in. “I think you are most handsome, Aemond” causing him to smile, a true smile. “but I want to see all of you” she insisted, moving her hand towards his face. He grabbed her hand as she reached for his eye patch. “please” she asked.

He hesitated, “why?” he almost sneered, “tis your brothers fault I lost it”

“but its not mine.” She sighed, “please Aemond, I wish to see my husband, all of him”

He sighed, before letting go of her wrist allowing her to remove his eyepatch.

He had expected her gasp in fear, retreat away from him. Instead, though she gasped, it was more in awe than anything else.

“is that a sapphire?” she asked coming to caress his scar. He nodded. “its beautiful” she sighed, before placing a soft kiss below it.

She smiled softly, as she took a step back, “have you…?” she asked, shyly, she did not know much of what was to come, bar what her septa had told her, and though she grew jealous of the idea of Aemond lying with another woman, a apart of her hoped he had, hoped he could guide her and teach her. All she wanted was to please him, make him happy, and how could she if she didn’t have him to show her how?

He nodded, smirking slightly, “of course, wife” he nodded, moving to grasp her chin, “but worry not non of them shall ever compare to you” he said as he kissed her once more. He held her face to him, gripping the back of her neck, his tongue teasing entrance into her mouth before finally pushing his tongue into her mouth. And ever submissive, Aemma allowed him to dominate her mouth. She moaned softly into his mouth, as she once again laid back on the bed, his body effortless slotting over hers.

His mouth slowly left hers, moving to kiss the nape of her neck before slowly dropping to his knees.

He sent her a smirk, as he buried himself between her thighs.

He licked her folds teasingly at first, savouring the taste of her.

She was growing wetter and wetter with each motion of his tongue, moaning softly as he started to focus his ministration on her clit.

He gripped her hips as he gave fast and quick licks to her clit, his eyes meeting hers as she gripped the bedding in pleasure.

“Husband” she moaned, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, for so long he had worshiped the sound of his name on her lips, but hearing her call him her husband? The possessive in him became tenfold. She was his, in the eyes of the gods and the realm, she was his and he was hers and nothing could change that. And gods did he love it, love her.

His tongue moved faster, realising in her moans. His arm still griped her wait, stopping her from moving his hips, though his second arm left her waist, moving his fingers to tease her whole.

She was tight, completely untouched. She gasped as he entered her, her walls clenching his fingers as they entered her.

Groaning as he imagined how they would soon feel wrapped around his cock.

Pumping his fingers in and out of her at a leisurely pace, as he sucked at her clit.

“Aemond” she moaned this time, reaching her hand to grip his hair.

He groaned as she did, before reaching out to grip her hand alongside her waist.

His fingers clenched around him, her peak approaching.

Her moans came more present, getting louder and louder before she let out a high-pitched moan, her whole body reacting as she came.

Aemond moved back slowly, taking in her messy hair and bliss ridden face.

She was out of breath, collapsing fully on the bed.

“wife” he groaned, his body moving over hers.

She smiled softly as she looked up at him.

“is that what it always feels like?” she asked, breathless.

He smirked, “It can”

“I want to do the same to you?”

He looked unsure at her request, though he had imagined fucking her face countless times, he craved to feel her hot cunt wrapped around his cock.

But as she moved up to kiss him, her hand slowly reaching down to grab his cock. He groaned as she nervously touched his cock, her face determined to please him.

“Aemma.” He groaned, as his face buried himself into the nape of her neck.

He shoved himself off her, her hands slowly falling from his cock to her thighs as he moved.

“up” he demanded, as she nervously stood from the bed. ”kneel”. She did so hesitantly, looking up at him with nervous doe eyes.

The sight alone was enough for him to cum.

his hand gripped her jaw as she looked up at him, his thumb pushing into her mouth slowly. “suck” he demanded, as her reached to tuck her hair behind her ear.

She complied without complaint, gently sucking on his thumb as he pushed it into her mouth. He groaned as she did, moving his thumb out of his mouth.

“kiss it” he said, pushing his hips so his cock moved closer to her face.

She looked up at him unsure as she kissed his tip. Her lips were soft an gentle as they kissed the tip of his cock.

“again” he groaned, as she kissed it again, her hands laid pliantly on her knees , her hair now gripped between his hands as he made a makeshift bun as he held her head to his cock as she started to pepper kisses across his cock.

“fuck, Aemma” he moaned, “open” he said, and as she did, he slowly pushed his cock between her lips.

her mouth case warm, the feeling of her mouth felt almost as delightful as he imagined the walls of her cunt would feel like wrapped around his cock.

her hands slowly moved up from where they say on your knees. One hand gripped his waist, in an attempt to stabilise herself as Aemond moved her head to bob up and down his cock. the other went to reach for the base of his cock, he barley fit in her mouth, and as she gagged around his cock, causing him to groan and the eyes rolling back.

“fuck” he groaned again, “use your hand to grab what cannot fit” he moaned, moving your head faster, “move it up an- yes like that, good girl” he moaned as she started to motion her hand up and down on the part of her cock she couldn’t fit into her mouth.

He moved his hand to grip the back of her neck, his hips now thrusting forward as he slowly started to fuck her face. Though he didn’t for long as before he knew it he could feel his own peak approaching.

He tore himself from her mouth, causing her to groan at the loss of him in her mouth.

She looked up at him, bewildered, before reaching forward in an attempt to take him back in her mouth.

“no, Aemma” he laughed, pulling her body up from the floor. “on the bed.” He said, as he himself moved to lay back, patting the space beside him.

She crawled across the bed to him, stopping in front of him. His legs were spread, and she crawled into his lap, softly kissing his lips.

She could taste herself on his tongue and she was sure he could taste himself on her own tongue.

She could feel his cock between her thighs, edging closer to her cunt.

“lay back” he said against her lips.

Laying down on the bed, Aemond once again crawled on top of her. His hand moved down to her cunt, his finger gathering up her wetness as he once again teased her entrance, he pushed two fingers into her slowly, stretching her more so that he had before, preparing her for his cock.

She moaned as he did so, the stretch delightful as he pumped her full, but she still craved more, she craved his cock.

“please” she begged.

“please what?” he hummed, pumping her slowly.

“I want you” she moaned.

“you have me.” “no…I want your…your cock” she whispered the last word, feeling dirty from saying it .

“my cock?” he teased, as he removed his fingers from her.

“Yes!” she groaned, moving to grab him, “please”

He hummed, smiling softly as he positioned himself between her thighs.

He kissed her softly as he slowly pushed into her.

Her face scrunched discomfort as he stretch her and broke her maidenhead. He pushed into her slowly, allowing her to adjust to his length.

He moaned as he fully entered her, her tight walls encasing his cock in such a delightful way.

“gods, Aemma” he moaned, as he buried his head into the nape of her neck.

“move, please” she begged after a moment, her hands moving to grip his arms, as he slowly started to thrust his hips into her. He started of slowly, allowing her time to adjust, but as she started to roll her hips into his. He began to pick up his face, slowly setting a fast rhyme. His hand moving from her sides to grip the head board as he started to pound into her.

Her moans grew louder and more high pitched, her legs moving to wrap around his waist.

“keep your eyes on me” he groaned as she closed her eyes in pleasure, her legs fell from his hips, her eyes fully fixed on his as she started to reach her peak.

The eye contact was like nothing she had experienced before. His eyes were dark, possessive, and yet also filled with love. The pure amount of emotions in her eyes pushed her to competition, as she let out a high pitched squeal, her arms gripping his pack, living small scratches as she came.

Her cunt wrapped tightly around his cock, causing Aemond o let outa moan of his own as he worked her through her orgasm, before finally letting go himself, filling her with his cum.

They got little sleep that night, with scarce few minutes before being awoke once more to heated touches, her cunt stretches with his cock in more ways than she could count. She have never felt anything like it, the pleasure beyond imaginable.

As she awoke now she traced the lines of Aemond’s face gently, taking in his beauty. He was truly spectacular, all sharp lines and edges, his silver hair and purple eye.  She envied his beauty, how Valyrian he looked and how little she did.

She hoped there children would inherit his beauty and not hers. She adored the idea of carry a little Aemond.

She smiled softly as she played with his hair, only stopping when a knock was sounded on her door.

Grabbing her robe, and quickly brushing her hair she opened the door, only to face her mother.

She smiled softly as she greeted her, “mother” she said, motioning her to step inside, her mother grimacing slightly as she took in Aemond’s sleeping from. “what can I do for you?”

Her mother sighed, looking down in shame “ we are leaving…now”

“what?”

“I- we cannot be here much longer, the- we are unwelcome so we have decided it best to leave.”

“but I just got married, I thought you would stay at least a few more days”

“I know…im sorry”

Aemma scoffed, “sorry? You do not write me, show up for a few days and then leave again! You are not sorry! You just don’t want me! I doubt you ever did!” she cried in aguish.

“no.. no Aemma, dōna riña, that’s not true.” She moved towards, her reaching for her hands only to be met with Aemma’s rejection, nyke bardutan ao naenie letters, kīvin zijo.  nyke dōrī jiōraton aōhon se nyke pendagon bona se greens- alicent se aemond hid zirȳ hen ao naejot gūrogon ao hen nyke” her mother spoke, chaing to high valyrian as if to keep what she ahd to say a secret.

i wrote you many letters, i swear it. i never got yours and i think that the greens- Alicent and Aemond hid them from you to take you from me.

“daor daor, nyke ȳdra daor belive ao!”

No no, I don’t believe you!

“iksan telling se truth, ñuha jorrāelagon, emā issare torn hen nyke se kostan daor bare naejot ūndegon ziry.  eman issare vēttan ezīmagon iā issaros se kicked hen ñuha own lenton, istin henujagon”

i am telling the truth, my love, you have been torn from me and i can not bare to see it. i have been made into a stranger and kicked from my own home, i must leave.

Aemma scoffed, “nyke- nyke, aōha verdagon bē excuses muña! Aemond vestās ao would, skoro syt shouold nyke believe ao? especially skori īlē sīr adere naejot jikagon nyke qrīdrughagon?”

i-i, your making up excuses mother! Aemond said you would, why shouold i belive you? especially when you were so quick to send me away?

Her mother let out an irritated sound, “have I lost you complete, Aemma?” she asked sadly “I have been so blind, I should have come with you, should have stayed here-“ “then stay!”

“I can’t”

“I don’t understand! What have I done?” she asked, she was confused she didn’t know what she had done, why her own mother couldn’t stay, why she had left her.

“i- you have done nothing” her mother insisted.

“so you are leaving just because you do not like me? Or is it because of Aemond? You were always against our friendship, and yet you were the one who proposed we wed! you are so-“

She was cut off by Aemond, their shouting waking him from sleep, “get out!” he demanded, “all you do is upset my wife, I shall not have it!”

And her mother left, with no complaint only sad eyes and the word goodbye. The way she said it made her feel as if her mother felt like she had lost her forever, as if this was there final goodbye.

Next part

taglist

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to be added to taglist

[asharasasylum]

The Devil May Cry

Yandere brother x sister! reader (hotd) - part 2 here

author's note: hey guys trying something different. no character specified but characters i write for/have written for and think would fit, highlighted at the bottom. warnings: yandere. non con kisses. incest. abuse. talks of past child abuse. 18+

After everything he constantly puts you through, you still seem to always go running back. 

He’s cruel. Some people would even characterise him as vile, your parents included, but you saw through all of that. It was a reaction to the years of abuse and trauma your parents had buried him under as a child. So he lashed out sometimes, called you spiteful names and even scared you at times. But how was he supposed to know any better, especially when the people that were meant to love him had shown him nothing but hate. 

You felt it was up to you to show him love even when his cruelty was aimed towards you. He’s your brother, who neglects their brother. 

You took it. Every single bit of it. From the nasty venom he spat from his lips to the objects that skimmed you as they flew from his fist, smashing into the walls behind you. He terrified you most of the time and yet you still offered a hand out for him to bite. 

But he’s taken it too far. You repeat it over and over in your head again as you pack all your remaining stuff into a bag. 

You can still feel the indent of his rings against your throat and the touch of his lips pressed against yours. Bile rose up in the back of your throat as your mind tried to face the reality of what had really just happened. 

“We’re playing this game again are we?” You heard him sneer from the bed. 

You glanced up at him for a second, noticing how he was still sprawled out over the top of his sheets as if nothing had happened. Your stomach twisted in disgust and you turned away again. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours, yeah?” He asked rhetorically, genuinely believing like all the other times before you were going to come crawling back. But you couldn’t not when you could still feel his body pressing against yours as he forced himself on top of you, the feel of his body moulding into yours and the hardness that he had pressed against your crotch. 

You’re in the car before you know it, half an hour away with his mocking laughter still ringing in your ears. 

You can barely see out your window, it’s clouded by something only you don’t notice what it is till you pull over. Your hand reaches out to wipe it, only to realise it is tears covering your vision. 

Even as you frantically wipe at them, they’re thick and heavy as they rack through your body. They’re not going anywhere, along with the memory of what he had just done to you. 

It was only a kiss. You try to ease yourself with that thought. It had only lasted a few seconds before you stopped it. It was only a kiss.

//

You were meant to be gone for a few hours at best. Back before dinner, bringing him something home with a teary eyed smile and an apology as if you were the one in the wrong. Yet it is three am and you haven’t even so much as sent him a text. 

At first he’s worried, pacing back and forth in his bedroom thinking of all the awful things that might have happened to you. He’d never forgive himself if you got hurt. Especially when he had been the one to drive you away. 

Maybe he had taken it too far this time. But how was he meant to hold back when your eyes brimmed with tears and you pouted at his cruel words. He’s been desperate for a taste of you for years so who was he to deny himself when you were looking so delicate and ripe. 

His worry finally dies down when he tracks your phone down, finding your car outside a familiar building. That worry twists into a burning rage that courses through his body as he stares up into dimly lit windows

It’s only a friend, you had told him. No one he should be worried about, your words mock him as he taps his finger against his steering wheel. He felt like he could hear you laughing now. Besides you’re my brother and you’re way too old to be getting protective over me. 

The light flickers on in one of the apartment windows, and through the peak of the curtains he notices your silhouette. He knows it's you, recognising the tone of your skin under the flattering bright light. He knows the contours of your frame, even from a distance. 

You’re fine. But it isn’t relief that fills him as he realises this. He can’t describe the feeling that sinks into his skin as he starts his car up again. He’s never felt like this before, his anger mixing in with something else. 

His cheeks are wet suddenly and he wipes at them, only to realise he’s crying. But these tears aren’t for him, he tells himself as he drives off. No, these years are for you. 

HOTD - Aegon Targaryen. Aemond Targaryen. Jacaerys Velaryon.

HOTD - Fem x Male character Insert Master List

(Dividers by @cafekitsune)

[sepherinaspoppies]

whatever may come - dark! aemond targaryen x servant reader

summary: aemond punishes his maidservant after catching her talking to a stableboy. he, however, will not recognize the consequences to his actions later on.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, noncon, dubcon, oral m receiving, cum play?, p in v sex, rough sex, possessiveness, degradation. I think that's it?

wc: 2,700

my masterlist

notes: lol this was inspired by a tiktok edit?? anyways I think this is dark? I apologize if this sounds like crap, I ruined my sleep schedule for this?? haha

byka līve: little whore

She silenced her whimpers to the best of her ability, her lower lip caught between her teeth so tightly that she could taste the metallic drops of her blood as the man above her painfully gripped the very roots of her hair jerking her trembling body away from his lap to the stone cold floor. 

She looked up through her eyelashes as she watched him correct her posture to his liking like a mere doll, the same ones she would watch him play with in the privacy of his sister’s chambers whenever she did her maid duties. 

After he had settled her into her knees, she immediately let out a sigh of relief as that burn waved itself away to solace. She continued to look at him, back and forth between his lone violet eye and his sparkling sapphire that only seemed to strangely glow whenever she was present. His expression was unreadable from the previous austere one where moments ago he remorselessly and brutally, to be quite clear, hit multiple blows against her bottom, making her count each and every single one without tears in her eyes. She never knew how to count, but Aemond made sure to teach her with each hit upwards to twenty. 

She knew Aemond was angry and he had every right to be. Earlier on the day as he was training with his mother’s knight, Criston Cole, out in the outer yard when he spotted his favorite maidservant blushing and laughing with a plainly featured stableboy as his dirty little fingers swept back a piece of loose hair out of her face. 

Never once did Aemond ever see his maidservant smile that brightly before much less directed towards him. And she had no reason to whatsoever. His presence did not bring her joy or an ounce of merriment, it was much the opposite of that. So why did Aemond believe that he deserved a little smile when all he ever did was defile, break and use her all whilst making her cry in the end? 

There was only one reason a low born male like him smiled that way and Aemond shunned those ill fitting thoughts out of his mind for he did not want to think of another man touching his maidservant. 

She was his and his only, no one else’s. And she’d do well to remember that. 

“Undress me, byka līve” Aemond demands, speaking the last two phrases in his ancestral language. Never knowing what they meant, if they were expressed appreciatively or aimed in an appraising matter. 

Deep down she had an inkling that they were not. 

She blinked, hesitantly bringing herself up from the floor. Just as she began to unfasten his black leather doublet, her hair was tugged yet again before her knees were bent back down against the stone. 

She winced, carefully not to make any sound. 

“No, byka līve, not there. Here—” His fingers threaded her hair more tightly, pressing her face flat against his pelvis. She could feel the swellness of his cock across her face, where the base of his manhood started nudging at the bottom of her chin and where the pulsating tip pressed a little above her eyes. 

But what astonished her the most was the small wet patch that amplified the smell of his sex. Surely, this was not what she thought it was. 

There was only one way to find out.

The one eyed prince released his tight grip on the roots of her hair. She wondered that by the end of the night, after he was done with her if there would be any hair left. Her hair was the only thing she liked about her appearance, the smooth texture with hidden silver highlights.

“Look at me while you undress me” 

With a shaky breath, she nodded as her hands moved to unlace his breeches, tugging down just below where his stones ended until the garment pooled at his feet. A part of her felt grateful it was him she was looking and not his throbbing parts. 

Aemond was determined to peak again, seeing his red faced maidservant so obedient and frightened before him. It almost made him want to reward her with either his fingers or tongue or mayhaps both. 

But she wasn’t here for a reward. She was unbefitting for such a thing. It was because of her whore like behavior akin to the sordid ones in the Silk of Street that filthy stableboy had his eyes already set on her. 

And he can not have that happening. 

Without further warning, she feels two of his fingers ruthlessly being shoved at the back of her throat. He gives her no time to settle what he was doing to her as his long digits begin to pump in and out of her at an outrageous pace that involuntarily makes her eyes produce tears. 

Above her, she hears her prince hum with a dark look in his eye that sends shivers down her spine. She shouldn’t be enjoying this, it was wrong. This act, along with the various ones from previous nights and mayhaps the forthcoming ones, were suitable for a married woman and her husband. Not a prince and his maidservant. She stood to gain nothing from this. 

“This mouth is mine” Aemond breathlessly whispered as his fingers curled in a come hither motion, her lips kissing his knuckles. At his words, she lets out a series of sobs loud enough for Aemond to tug her head back in distaste. 

“What? Do you have something to say in the matter? Do you not think you belong to me?” 

She shut her eyes, flinching at the sonority of his voice, thinking by doing that he would go away dissatisfied and search for someone to take her place. 

But her silence only seemed to anger him more. 

“Fucking answer me, byka līve!” he yells close to her ear. 

For the first time since her counting, she spoke with a shaking voice. “Y-y-yes, Your Grace” 

“Yes what? Hmm?” 

She gasps and opens her eyes feeling her prince’s fingers twist and pinch her covered hard nipple, “I’m- I’m yours, my prince” 

“You don’t sound so convinced that you are, byka līve” he licks his lips before tutting. Such a sound made her feel alarmed and more frightened. “Do I need to remind you, again?” Aemond asks, bringing his hand to his manhood. 

As familiarized as she was with his nakedness, she could not help to invite herself to look at all of him. Centimeters close to her face, stood his very erect cock, thick and heavy as she saw last, skin pulled back to reveal his needy red tip with mix remnants of arousal and spend. 

It brought her shame and disgust the way her core seemed to long and yearn for the fullness he brought upon her. 

Aemond, frustrated in her lack of words, taps the tip of his cock on her bottom lip before he shoves his way into her warm mouth. He could feel his maidservant whine uncomfortably from only taking half of him. Fucking weak whore. Aemond cursed to himself. He knew she could take more, she had done so before. 

“Fuck” 

Her chest heaves rapidly trying to keep her air supply to the best she can and opening her mouth wider to make it easier for her to suit his thickness since it had been a while since his cock rested around her lips. Her prince, as of late, preferred to be inside her walls in all the hours of the day and night. In that order. 

Once the one eyed prince was certain her mouth had accommodated his size, he took no more time yanking her head down sheathing every inch to the back of her throat, sighing in pleasure. 

The vibrations of her whimpers spurred Aemond on as his hips started to thrust in and out of her lips, slowly at first to enjoy the soft ridges that her throat had to offer and her tongue. Seven Hells, her tongue instinctively raising up whenever his tip rested there for a second, making him forget the reason why he was doing this in the first place. Her punishment. 

“Are–you…fuck– starting to fucking remember who you b-belong to, byka līve? Hmm?” Aemond asked, wrapping his hand around her throat to feel the bulge of his cock sliding in and out. 

“Y-yes” she forces out through the tightness of her throat, trails of drool escaping the corners of her mouth. Aemond darkly laughs and moans at her response as his hips hasten their speed, chasing his nearing peak. 

“Good girl” he coos, his eye looking down at her flushed face. “My good sweet girl” —thrust— “I’m going to cum on your face” (a/n: listen to this tiktok if you want to hear him say it lol xD okay byeee)

She has no time to react as she feels hot ropes of his seed spurting all across her face. From her eyes to her cheeks and lips she feels it all. 

She hears her prince groan, as he pumps his cock faster feeling his second release coming again. 

And this time she knew to tilt her away to not get any more on her eyes or her hair. She heard stories from other maids that a man’s seed would knot into hair, making it impossible to get rid of. She didn’t know if it was true or not but she did not want to take her chances. 

“Just as I was beginning to think to reward you” He hissed, pulling her to stand. She whimpers, her head hot and spinning from getting up too fast. 

The raged prince spins his maidservant around, using the dagger Cole gifted him for his fourteenth nameday to rip through her night shift right below the dimples of her arse. The temperature of his chambers, which wasn’t too cold nor warm, caused the little hairs around on her body to raise.  

She tried to cover her bareness with her hands, whatever could fit on her palms. Since the beginning of their coupling, Aemond commanded her that she was to keep her shift on, only slightly raised to her hips. Not that she had any complaints, but it made her truly wonder why he’d be bare and not her. 

“This” Aemond cups her soaked mound, “Cunt is mine. Mine only to fuck and to do whatever I please. It’s not some filthy– dolt stableboy’s” He growls next to her. 

She parts open her lips at the realization that he was the heated gaze she felt on her back when she was discussing with Linus at the outer yard. She should have known her prince would be there training every morning like he always was. But it must have slipped her mind somehow. 

Aemond scowls, “I saw you, byka līve. Saw you speaking to him and letting him touch you. Saw him leave your room” 

She doesn’t get the chance to reply; to tell him that what he saw was not what it looked like. But her tongue was caught between her teeth before he roughly drags her body to slightly bend her over by his dressing mirror, giving himself a few vigorous pumps as he watches his proud work dripping on his pretty maidservant’s face. 

“Please, my prince. It isn’t…oh!” Feeling him enter in one sharp thrust deep, she gasps at the sudden fullness. There wasn’t any part of her that was empty, her cunt felt so deliciously stuffed to the brim. 

“It isn’t what? Are you telling me that my eye deceived me?” He asks in a strain voice, trying to hold his authority over her whilst controlling his sounds of pleasure. “Did I or did I not see you fucking laughing with him or—Seven Hells—letting his dirty little fingers touch you? Must I remind you it is a grave offense to lie to your prince, byka līve?” 

White hot pleasure runs deep inside her belly as his thrusts quicken to get an answer from her yet she struggles to keep her composure. “N-no, my prince, Linus came t-t-to meee. He said I had a ladybug on my hair and—” she rolls her head back to rest on his shoulder feeling her peak coming closer and closer. “Said I was pretty b-but, my prince—” 

Wanting to hear no more of this, Aemond stopped his movements, much to his dismay, wrapping his hand around her throat so tightly she knew it would bruise like the other times he took her from the same exact position. 

“Oh, he called you pretty did he? I wonder what he’ll think now with my spend on your face” 

Fear and embarrassment wormed itself to her body. She did not want anyone to see her this way, exposed, bare, and being fucked by the prince of the Queen’s second eldest son. Soon enough when the time came when she was no longer useful to him, she thought about lying to her future husband–if she ever met one worthy of taking her far away from King’s Landing–persuading him she was still pure, not touched by a possessive prince. 

“No please, my prince” She protested as Aemond grabbed the small little bell that was used to call in a Kingsguard.

He ignored her pleas not even attempting to hide her nakedness or her pearly white soaked face as Ser Arryk walked into the chamber being instructed to bring Linus from the stables. 

“Hush, byka līve” He cooed behind her, repositioning his cock back into her entrance. Any moment longer, he felt like his cock would explode from another release being denied. “Now, I might not let him in but only if you do not hide your sounds” 

She nods to the vigorous deep thrusts Aemond sets in, feeling more of her slick dripping down her thighs, aiding to the heavy slapping sound of their sex coming as one. She arched her back against Aemond’s chest, releasing mixes of intense pants and moans, gazing at the way Aemond’s face scrunches from bliss through the mirror. 

“Give it to me” Aemond groans, feeling his maidservant’s cunt flutter and clench around him. A sign that her peak was forthcoming. He snakes his hand down to her bud and curses loudly at how wet she was. 

She is a whore. Aemond thinks as he circles the bundle of nerves. 

At this, she gives Aemond a series of loud cries that she knew would be heard throughout the Keep. And in the morrow the castle would be surrounded with heavy gossip of who the lewd sounds belonged to and who caused them. 

“Gods, fuck!” 

Aemond smiled through the mirror, fucking her through her peak until he too began to yell out in ecstasy. His seed spilling deep into her womb. 

After their breaths settled, two loud knocks followed by the voice of Ser Arryk caused her to look at her prince in panic, hoping he’d dismiss them since she did what he asked her to do. 

“Come,” Aemond loudly announced, grabbing a cup of Pentoshi wine from his dinner table, ignoring the sobbing pleas from his maidservant. 

She tried to back away, desperately needing to shield herself away but that only caused the silver prince to tut and shake his head as a warning. 

The door shut loudly behind Linus as he came into the chambers, slowly and unsure why he was being called into the Prince’s chambers at this hour when he should be sleeping. 

“Linus, is it?” Aemond questioned, even though he knew the answer. 

Linus averts his gaze from the Prince’s nakedness, and nods. “Y-yes, my prince, if it pleases you” 

“Well, Linus. I am in need of your opinion, and I want you to be honest with me. Do you think that she looks glorious—pretty even, with my cum on her face?” 

She can not bring herself to look at the red headed man she considered a friend, knowing that the loud silence lingering around confirmed that he did not find her pretty like he had called her, hours ago. 

In fact, no one would ever find her pretty now. She was ruined and now a whore, like her mother had been when she too was seduced by a prince. 

a/n: if requested ill release two parts of this (one when aemond meets her and another for what happens next lol)

taglist: @ramsip @silentf @thenightmistress @dixie-elocin @namelesslosers @watercolorskyy @seabasscevans @fullmoonworshipper @dreaming-for-an-escape @marvelescvpe @omgisrdj @gigi-panecillo @laureeedn @kittendoll05

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[myfandomprompts]

You Were Always With Me | Masterlist [completed]

Pairing: possessive!Aemond x Reader

Warning: Mature, smut, explicit, angst, blood, spoiler for Fire & Blood, fluff

Synospis: You are a lady from high birth, daughter to an important man of the court. You were raised in King’s Landing along with the Targaryen princes. You always felt close to Aemond, as you had much in common. But he always seems so inaccessible to you, particularly as he grew up. Now you make the decision to leave, and Aemond is not really happy about it.

A/N: Did a fic overhaul. To future readers, the beginning might seem a little weird, but it gets better, I promise.

Chapters: [AO3]

(1) / (2) / (3) / (4) / (5) / (6) / (7) / (8) / (9) / (10) / (11) / (12) / (13) / (14) / (15) / (16) / (17) / (18) / (19) / (20) / (21) / (22) / (23) / (24) / (25) / (26) / (27) / (28) / (29) / (30) / (31)/ (32)/(33) / (34) / Epilogue

Annexes: (Bonus chapters) (1)

[The ship in 5 Minutes]

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[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Daddy dearest (Rhaenyra/Harwin Daughter x Darkish Daemon Targaryen) (READER OR OC)

🔷Summary: You are Rhaenyra's and Harwin's daughter and you just proposed to Aemond, your stepdaddys worst enemy.

WORDCOUNT: 2159

🔷Author's note: This was a request, this is my first Daemon fic so i hope i did him justice without turning him into a carebear or a scary pookie.

🔷Warnings: Oc/reader is a brat, reader has clear empathy issues, reader has a daddy kink (liiiiiterallly) targcest!, dark!daemon, smut, p in v, fucking, desk fucking, choking, slut-shaming, high-treason, cheating, (daemon) slight gore, and dom/sub themes.

There is something about Targaryens that makes them a little more dangerous than other families. You have always known that. But there is something about you that makes you a little more dangerous than most Targaryens. 

Like a dragon, you wish to be close to the fire, letting it consume your everything while you hiss at your pain. You always enjoyed creating drama and orchestrating plots. You have been good at it. 

So, when your one-eyed uncle, Aemond Targaryen one day writes a sobby letter where he confesses his love and devotion to you, regrets killing your little brother, and vows that he will love you from the end of his days, it is not the prospect of peace that makes you happy. It is the prospect of war.

You write back, of course you do. You appeal to Aemond’s pride, his titles, his ‘’beauty’’ and most of all: His ego. You assume that the two of you will be married soon, should your mother wish it. Everything to avoid the war.

You happily brush your hair, thinking of all the good things that will hopefully happen to your family now. You love wearing your hair on a side-braid, the way Visenya wore hers.

You have just finished preparing for the day to come when your stepfather, Daemon Targaryen barges into your rooms. You don’t bow or greet him, instead you just smirk at his furious expression and red worked up cheeks. You fold your hands on your back and raise your chin with an innocent smirk. ‘’You seem upset.’’ You speak, your voice cheerful.

Daemon hands you an opened letter. You briefly scan the words and sigh, noticing the familiar awfully nauseating perfect handwriting of Aemond Targaryen. He brags to Daemon about ‘’Seducing’’ you and that you ‘’soon will be pregnant with child.’’ Inwardly, you roll your eyes, but you did suspect that Aemond would write Daemon about his ‘’conquest’’ of you. Of course he would. That is why you picked Aemond in the first place. He thinks you are being conquered but in reality he is a pawn in a plot he has no clue of. He is as a sheep being lured in the wolf’s den, unaware he is about to be slaughtered.

But you don’t let Daemon see your disgust at this, kinslayer waving his win in his rival’s face.  Daemon is very worried for your safety. ‘’Are you insane, courting him? Have you forgotten what that child murderer did to our family?’’ As much as you miss Lucerys, you won’t kill yourself or others for his dead chewed up corpse. Luc would want everyone to get along and to make peace, not war. Which is why he died, as it is a very foolish way of handling enemies. You feel indifferent about his loss. You miss a bit, but you won’t trade a limb back for him.

You hand him the letter back. ‘’Yes. I am betrothed. Aren’t you happy for me?’’ It is almost funny how quickly his emotions change from utter rage and murder, to disappointment, to heartbreak and finally how all his emotion die and only a mask remains.

He becomes silent. The only thing you hear is the betrayal of your own heart beating. ‘’With Aemond?’’ He asks, now a bit calmer than previously. ‘’You know you can get much better.’’ He says. You don’t know who he refers to.

You roll your eyes. ‘’No, with Aegon. Of course with Aemond!’ You know he hates it when you roll your eyes.

‘’What the fuck do you mean with ‘’of course’’?’’’You giggle inwardly.

You blink rapidly, innocently.

‘’Daddy dearest, don’t cuss please. It’s very peasant-like. Aren’t you happy I’m finally engaged? You tried so hard to find a good suitor for me.’’ You grin.

‘’Your mother and I should choose your suitor! Have you thought about any of us during these games with Aemond?’’ More than he would ever know. 

You sigh, lying easily.

‘’I will be honest, you haven’t both been on my mind very much.’’

You need a final push. You are so close. ‘’Daddy dearest, me and Aemond are meant to be. Soon I’ll carry his babies for him and make him a father when I polish his creepy sapphire eye for him while he breeds me as if I am livestock. You either adjust-’’ That is pushing it too far, part of you just knows it. You can see when you cross a line and you just did that. You see a reflection of danger and insanity in the eyes of Daemon, the man you’ve yearned for so long. 

He grabs you violently by the throat, and you squeak pathetically when he drags you with him. Daemon has lost his patience with you and drags you with him as if you are a toy. ‘’Not another word. No one is breeding you. Not him at least.’’ With a push you are on your back, on your writing desk. Daemon throws several of your books and your quills on the ground, bending you under him. You pretend to groan but your lips are curled up in a smile, when he removes your smallclothes, pulling them down and exposing your body to him. 

His big hands grab each of your asscheeks when you hiss in anticipation. He releases his anger on your poor behind but you can’t say that you mind. If anything, you love it. You wait for Daemon to finish his spanking before turning on your desk, revealing your other entrance to him. A glistering wet and needy entrance. ‘’Aemond rides the biggest dragon. Do you think his cock is the biggest too? I read something about men with funny noses-’’ You will never finish the sentence.

Your head is smashed down and you finally feel Daemon’s experienced hands touch your so eager cunt. You whimper, weak and softly when he takes a stance behind you, and you clench yourself when you hear the sound of his belt being removed. ‘’You want a man to breed you, you horny little slut? You want to be fucked and owned as a whore? Fine with me.’’ He groans in your ear when spitting in your face. You recoil in brief disgust before your legs are spread wide and open and his cock is forced deep inside of you, causing you to grunt against the wood of the desk. Daemon yanks you up by your arms, fucking you without speaking. You become a little light in the head as pleasure mixes inside of you, and you can’t believe it's finally happening. His cock feels good to have inside of you and once again you clench, needy as a whore.

Daemon grins in your ear when noticing your little cries and gasps of pleasure. ‘’You wish to be bred, little girl? You wish for your Kepa to make you his little whore?’’ He grins, using his Valyrian accent for that one word. You become even more aroused because of that and moan, weakly. Daemon sinks in back inside of you, pulling you up so he can fuck you when you lay on your desk. Your wooden deks cracks of the movements as Daemon takes your maidenhead on it, not giving a fuck for your sore museles or your begs. 

‘’Daemon…’’

You are close to your heights. There are days just like these when you touch yourself, imagining it was him all along. And now he is, taking you as his spoils and fucking you the way a conquerer takes his spoils. You beg. ‘’Daemon..’’ You are spanked another time, this time on your cunny that is brutally fucked at the same time. You cry out in pain and glare at Daemon who simply smirks back at you, before dragging his nails into your skin, forcing you back on his cock for another good, but painful ride. You become used to the pain, and to the feeling of having a man inside of you. It is better than everything you ever did to yourself. ‘’Kepa, please…’’ You beg, pathetically. 

Your stepfather has no mercy for you, grinning as if you are his enemy and this is your end. ‘’You are a little greedy whore. I won’t finish you off. The only one who comes is me, little Princess. Your Kepa will put a child inside your belly, perhaps that will teach you some respect.’’ He vows, riling you up against his cock until you nearly come.

You become even more aroused, fighting your desires and the urge to ride his cock. ‘’What if I’m not with child?’’ You ask, knowing you will like the answer very much.

Daemon pauses, the cock half inside of you, taunting you, torturing you. ‘’Then I simply must return and fuck you the way a dog fucks his bitch until you are, won’t I?’’ He breaths out, before taking you again on the desk. You are taken now quicker, faster and can barely keep up. Your cries become louder and freer and Daemon needs to wrap his free hand around your mouth to silence you when his cock fucks your body sore. The thrusts become rougher and more dominate and Daemon hits you again, and again and again on your ass when fucking you sore and likely very bloody. Yet you cry in approval, beg without words and plead for more by slowly grinding back against his body.

You see a determination that is very arousing in his eyes. He grabs your hips, impales you with his cock, all the way in and fucks you harshly and more animalstic than before. You lose count of how many he times he fucks you, but when he is finished, you can hear him grunt and you know his cum is inside your body right now. You remain on the desk, frozen, half undressed, and needy and naked.

Daemon grabs you by your throat once more, moving you to your bed. He throws you on it, grabbing a pillow. You protest but are turned on your stomach. He presses your face in the pillow so your cries can’t be heard and whispers in your ear. ‘’You’re going to become such a marvelous little mother for my son, Princess. Yes you will.’’ He murmurs against your belly. You whimper wordlessly.

His cock finds your body again and is pushed all the way in, when he kisses your hair and fucks you gently this time. ‘’Come for Kapa. Show me what a pretty obedient slave you can be for me.’’He whispers. You feel it build as he fucks you harder and harder and as your eyes close you cry out in the pillow he forces you on your mouth, soaking it in the process when Daemon fucks you when you scatter around him, breaking into million of pieces. 

Satisfied with your state, Daemon removes the pillow and looks at your wet, but bloodied cunny. ‘’Such a good slut for Kepa.’’ He tells you with a smirk. You pant still in denial that that happened. He pats your belly next. You lean in and want to kiss him. ‘’Kepa..’’

But he pulls away, disgusted all of a sudden and angry. ‘’You will write to Aemond today. You will invite him to an inn somewhere close and you will seduce him. I want him to think mine child is his. I want to be there, when you reveal to him you played him and I want to see his pathetic little mind break at the betrayal you and me pulled on him.’’ He grins. You nod, absently. 

‘’What if I don’t want to fuck Aemond?’’ You have seen the man and he seems very boring in the sheets, almost as boring as he is in the streets.

Daemon grabs you by your throat, choking you and you gasp, but you feel a different connection to him now. He seeded and sored you. He made you his in a way and you are now his little princess. ‘’Did I fuck your brains out, little dumb princess?’’ He groans out. 

You are shocked as you gasp for air, worried it ends there for you. ‘’K-Kepa…’’

He sighs at your stupidity. ‘’You will fuck Aemond, you’ll be a needy little slut for him and fuck the shrimp he calls a cock, and you’ll pretend your baby is his.’’ What does that even accomplish?

‘’But we don’t know yet if I am even pregnant!’ You whisper distraught by the idea of bedding your uncle.

Daemon smirks. ‘’One of these days, you will be. I have had a taste of you, princess and I will be back. Your mother is not cutting it for me anymore. She is the love of my life, but love only does so much.’’ He speaks, petting your cheeks when you silently cry. 

‘’Go make Aemond happy. Then we will destroy him. Together.’’ He promises you, with a kiss on your lips.

A/N

Aemond, thinking he has a pure valyrian woman waiting for him that will help him destory daemon:

HE HAS NO IDEA-

Yeah this was fun! Actually a lot of fun. I hope you guys liked it!!!

If you did be sure to let me knoww xxxx

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part six

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

<<previous chapter

"To hold on, to the days when you were mine." - Peter, Taylor Swift.

These past few days, something has deeply changed in Daemon's psyche. He was always a neat freak, preferring to remain polished and clean on the outside while his mind was an overgrowth of plants that clouded his thoughts. He couldn't think straight then - but he kept a facade, pretending that he was sane. He wasn't.

Since seeing you in St. Joseph, he's lost all remnants of himself - the facade broke down and he was thrown into disarray. "Why is your shirt always untucked?" you chuckled, taking a step forward, as if it was second nature to fix his polo and tuck it into his pants.

"I was rushing," he found himself mumbling, confused at your sudden proximity to him. How long has it been since he's felt you? Had his fingers dance against your skin and body? You were always warm, and that was all he remembered about you.

Everything seemed to zone out in the background. He almost forgot that he was in a parking lot, and the sound of cars zoomed past him. All he could see was you, all that he could hear was you. He takes a deep breath, quickly composing himself.

"I'm sorry about what happened yesterday, Rhaenyra herself even admitted that it was wrong. We shouldn't have fought in front of a guest." he apologized, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "If I'm lucky, I won't be a guest for long." you teased, fixing the strap of the handbag on your shoulder. "Mhm." was all he could muster.

The thought of you being married to his nephew made him want to puke. It made him want to kill himself.

He senses the awkwardness, he decides to clear his throat and look at his watch. "I guess this is goodbye. I'm running late for a meeting." he lied, staring at the side. "Of course, nice talking to you." you answered, equally as awkward as his intonation.

"See you tomorrow?" he smiled, walking past you.

"See you tomorrow." you replied, but he was too far to hear.

(ISLAND NEAR THE GHISCARIS)

Your mother descended from a long line of voyagers. Her family remained in Lyss, and life led her to Westeros. The skill of voyaging was long lost. You couldn't command a ship, even if your life depended on it - luckily, you were able to meet a group of female pirates on their way to the liberated islands near the Ghiscari Empire.

It was untouched due the large wall-like fortress that surrounded the shores. "I am surprised by your aptitude, not a lot of people appreciate the oceans well." Serenei, the woman that promised to keep you safe, handed you a cup of tea, the liquid inside of the cup was moving back and forth due to the waves.

"It's much like riding a dragon, though you shouldn't compliment me that much - I emptied my stomach a few hours ago." you giggled, remembering the reddish hue that your face turned into. Oh, your ancestors were turning in their graves. "Don't worry, it'll only be a few more hours until we reach the shores of Pharmaka." she placed a hand on your shoulder.

There was silence between the both of you, in fear of the unknown. You stared at the small round window beside you.

Would Daemon love the ocean too? You remember the War of the Stepstones. A sigh escapes your mouth, the wars have marred him and he wouldn't have loved the smell of salt air as much as you. "It's an island filled with women, not a single man is allowed." Serenei continued with a smile, and for a moment you pondered if she went though the same things that you did.

You shake your head. You wish that she didn't.

"It must be heaven, then?" Alyssandra leaned on the doorframe, trying to keep herself steady due to the treacherous waves that pumped against the ship's bodice.

"It is - utopia is what they call themselves." Serenei continued telling the story, a smile ghosts your face. Your life had turned into a story indeed, finding true love with a Dragon Prince - losing him and being forced to live through the tragedy in Harrenhal, and now you were halfway across the world, riding a ship that is going to a place that calls themself utopia.

(ST. JOSEPH SCHOOL OF DRAGONSTONE)

The steam of your coffee littered your face with kisses, and a groan escapes your mouth. You couldn't believe that you feel asleep through your entire free period. Those dreams weren't stopping, but the scenarios were drastically changing.

At first, they were filled with love - of scenes with you and the 'Dragon Prince' then they changed into nightmares - of ones that you couldn't remember, only waking up in tears - but now, you were in a ship to some unknown island that made you feel hopeful.

Once the story ends, would you be free of those dreams? Would you be free to live your life without those headaches that forced your head open, telling you that there was something that you forgot?

AEMOND NEW SIM How are you? You haven't messaged me in a while :(

YOU sorry i fell asleep hehehahaha 😭

AEMOND NEW SIM Sleeping on duty? tskk

Daemon interrupts you from replying by sitting next to you. There was a pang in your heart, something deep inside your mind telling you to run towards him and offer him a warm embrace. Flashes from your dreams come to you. The small round window, the small of salt breeze and his lavender eyes that felt like a thousand sleepless nights cuddled by the fire.

"Congratulations." Daemon opened his mouth to speak. He stared deep into your eyes, almost peering inside your soul. There wasn't an expression in your face that he hasn't seen a million times. "For what?" you inquired with a slight smile.

"The students proficiency in math has improved since you started teaching them." he informed, and you quickly remember that he attended a meeting earlier today.

A nervous chuckle escapes your mouth.

"They're struggling with the basic stuff, things that they're supposed to know in the first and second grade. I try to go back to those topics before getting back into the complex stuff." you explained, and the smile returns to your face, happy to speak about your passion.

"Whatever you're doing, it seems to be working." he continued to compliment, liking that look in your eyes - the fire. Your body shifts unconsciously, your elbows much closer to his. Your coffee has long gotten rid of its heat, but there was still a million things you had to talk about with him.

"By the way, I thought that you were familiar even before I got to know you - then Harwin and the family talked about that trip to Italy that we both had at the same day. I know it sound a little weird, but I'm pretty sure that the picture you posted on your instagram was taken by me." you opened up the conversation, and he freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

August 23. He remembered vividly, right after you took that picture of him, he promptly collapsed on the curb and was brought to a hospital. That was also the day that he finished remembering his past life. His memories were revived by you?

"A funny coincidence," he managed to choke out.

The Gods were playing a cruel joke.

He stares at your face, seeing your squinting eyes - waiting for his reply. He decides that this might be the right time to talk about Tirano. "When you left, I actually collapsed." he chuckled, playing with the ring on his finger.

"What? Why?" your eyebrows merged into each other.

"I don't know if I'm the only one but - when I was younger I used to dream about weird things, dragons, kings, wars. At first, my parents thought that it was just the result of an overactive mind but the dreams persisted until I turned into an adult - actually I think I was in my late thirties or early fourties when they stopped. It stopped after that trip to Tirano." he monologued, now evading your gaze.

If you weren't able to make the connection, then he would've revealed himself for nothing. "I dream about those things too. Strange." you whispered, your voice suddenly decreasing in volume. "I'm not the only one then," he looked to the side.

"But you said that they stopped? How did they stop?" you asked, wanting to rid yourself of those nightmares. He smiled, remembering seeing your face before everything faded to black.

"I dreamed about myself dying, and after waking up in a hospital bed feeling like I slept a million years, I never dreamt about it again." he confirmed and your heart sinks to your chest. "Holy shit, this sounds so fanatically cultish." you cursed. "- you're telling me that I need to die in the dream to stop dreaming about it again?" you repeated.

He replies with a shrug.

"Well that's going to take a long time. I'm in like, Act Three of the whole novel." you decided to keep the conversation light, although the topic was serious and you weren't sure if you were there to believe him. "How many acts are there?" he raised an eyebrow. "How many acts are in Madame Butterfly?" you quizzed.

"Three...so you're near the end." he smiled. "I'm not sure, for all we know it might just be the end of the beginning." you answered.

He stands up, hearing the bells ring.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure that you'll find a cure of your own." he bid his goodbyes and disappeared from the teacher's lounge.

AEMOND NEW SIM Can you pls catch a ride with someone u work with? I'm a little busy here in mom's house She's moving a few things Yknow her trip to Turkey

YOU Okay, what time will u be home?

AEMOND NEW SIM Probably before dinner If I'm out past six have dinner before me

YOU Alright, take care

next part >>

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

Warning; future chapters will include:

Graphic Violence, XXX content, Targcest, Spoilers, Canon depravity, death and war, troubling being afoot, menacing, mischief making, genocide, murder, blood, guts, dragons etc.

Word Count ~ 2k+

Index

i ●ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi● vii ● viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

Prelude ~

Princess Visenya Velaryon, had always been cited as a fair & bold creature. Born in 111AC, a smile that gleamed with mischief adorned her face, marking her most like her mother Rhaenyra. She was, indeed, the picture of a Valyrian Princess, the picture of her mother – with wide eyes and demure glances which hid the current of cunning beneath. She was a but harmless thing, playful at best, impish at worse; at least so far as her grandsire King Viserys thought. Proclaimed as the Laenor Velaryon’s only daughter – the Princess did not inherit her father’s deeper skin or the ringed seafoam shaded locks of Velaryon women. Visenya in fact, did not possess many of House Velaryon' traits, both of the body and mind she seemed of true Targaryen stock, and it was but her mother Rhaenyra who knew, the young princess indeed was just that. Visenya’s impish glares and taunts were alike to that of The Rouge Prince, and to the common Lord or Lady of the court, one might think she inherited such a trait from her mother’s uncle. However, other more insidious rumours deemed Visenya a bastard of Prince Daemon’s, conceived by her mother unknowingly, right before she had wed Ser Leanor. Such rumours would be deemed, most truthful.

i - 'Old Wounds'

123 AC ~

The Princess Visenya, having but defying her mothers’ orders found her way to the Dragonpits alone, once more. She snuck through the winding caverns the soft glow of firelight shading the stone walls, her crimson dress dragging along the volcanic sand below. It was a soothing place, she thought, the warmth of the air… the smell of dragonfire which would linger upon one’s flesh, the gentle growls, and mummers of stirring Dragons. A place in which only a Targaryen might feel at ease. However, it was not the mummers of waking dragons which echoed through the caves in which Visenya heard. Her head peaked, her brow furrowing in confusion as she heard stifled sobs. Wrathful sobs.

She walked with caution, following the solemn sound until she stumbled upon him. The silver haired boy with his knees to his chest, his fists tightly scrunched. She stopped, taking in the sight, a most startling one for the Princess. Aemond.

It was only but a few hours ago that she had heard of her half-brother’s marvellous prank, allying with their eldest Uncle, Prince Aegon; to give Prince Aemond a pig instead of a dragon, to lure and taunt him just to see his face fall from glee to humiliation. Visenya had coiled with hearty laughter as her brother’s recounted the story, she longed to have been there, to see the propitious Prince Aemond faulter. However, her joy was shortly curtailed as Aemond had stumbled upon the scene, the imprint of his stern furrow upon hearing Visenya’s laughter still within her mind. Indeed, the sight she saw before her now, was unlike his affectedly stern façade – it was weak, crumbling, hurt.

The young Princess approached him softly, her face washed with a slight uncertainty.

“Aemond?” Her voice echoed quietly.

Aemond lifted his chin. A thin veil of tears dampened his lashes, his eyes red, bloodshot, and heavy with sorrow. In response, the prince simply glanced down, his expression sullen.

"I’ve no interested in your gloating." He said.

The silver haired girl raised an eyebrow. Her mouth curved upwards in a bemused smirk. "Why would I gloat? It was a rather clever prank. Regardless, it was not I who did it."

The prince’s fists clenched. His knuckles turning white as he looked up at her, his grey eyes glaring. "Yet you snickered all the same, you all laughed at my expense! I cannot forget what you all did to me, how you all..." His voice trailed off, his gaze falling to his fists. When he looked back at her, there were fresh dampness under his cheeks as his expression turn bitter.

“Leave. I should not like you reporting back to your brothers the details of my misery.” His voice a low warning.

“I had no intention to.” Visenya raised her brow, her arms folded. As she looked upon the prince she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of pity, his gaze so bitter… so wrathful. She sighed, coming down to sit beside him.

“It was a mere jest. Do not tear yourself to bits over it. Your thoughts are far harsher than the truth of it.” Her attempt at sympathy making her cringe.

“You know nothing of my thoughts!” Aemond snapped.

The air settled between them for a moment, the silence brutal as she looked to him, her hand hesitantly placing itself on his shoulder. Aemond snapped his head, his eyes narrowing as he brushed her hand away.

“I do not need your pity.” His tone curt.

The princess rose, scoffing as she extended her hand to him below. “Get up.” She spoke promptly.

His face coiled with both refusal and confusion. “What?” He snapped.

“I said, get up. If you do not need my pity, so be it. But I cannot stand to listen to your whining any longer. Come, I am visiting Silverwing, and you shall be my torch bearer.” She smiled mischievously, her hand lifting him up, then walking to another torch mounted on the stone walls, using it’s flame to set hers alight.

Visenya walked back, forcing the rough trunk of wood into his hand. “No- “His voice grating as she then shoved her hand upon his mouth. His eyes wide with shock as she crooned into his face.

“Enough of your sulking. Come. You wish for a Dragon, no? Then you ought to learn how to tend to one.”

She pulled him with her, further into the dark caverns of the Dragonpit until they came to Silverwing’s lair. “Silverwing, māzigon naejot nyke.” Visenya cooed.  Silverwing, come to me.

The sudden shake of the earth bellow accompanied the grumbling of the large beast, her silver scales gleaming by the flickering torch light. Visenya turned, glancing at Aemond, his eyes like moons boring into her dragon.

She watched as he stepped back, his neck tilting upwards, the breeze hitting his silver hair. A smug smile came to Visenya’s lips as she turned to Aemond. His face was still set in stone, his gaze hardening as he watched the great beast. "So," the princess prompted, "Are you going to pet her? Or shall you remain sulking?”

Aemond's lips parted, he was about to make a snide remark before sighing. "Of course not." He walked closer to the dragon, standing a few feet away from her. The beast was enormous, the sheer size of her body dominating the wide cave, her lithe yet robust frame looming over the two young Targaryen’s. Silverwing's grey head looked down at him, her eyes narrowing. The prince had not stopped to wonder how the dragon would react. Aemond grumbled under his breath, then took a hesitant step forward. He looked at the dragon, its shining silver scales glinting in the dim light, his breathing hitched. The Prince could not help his anxiety, he had never been so close to a dragon before… never felt its hot breath warm his skin. He moved closer, swallowing a ball in his throat.

Aemond had taken another step forward when Silverwing's body rattled with warning, her low growls causing his steps to falter, his hand tightening on the base of the torch. He would not allow himself to look away, he would not show fear, nor would he retreat. The torch cast a long shadow upon the cave walls, Silverwing’s breath rapidly increasing as he moved closer, her nostrils flaring with each exhale. The dragon's eyes did not stray from the young prince, studying his every movement as Visenya let out a soft chuckle, revelling in his rattled stance.

"She shall not bite you." An amused smirk curled upon her lips. "Silverwing, māzigon." she cooed. The dragon's head turned, her eyes focusing on the princess before she did so.

"There, you see?" Visenya asked, she looked over to him, a small part of her finding the utmost enjoyment in the nervous expression he wore. The dragon raised her chin, letting out a soft whisp of hot air from her nostrils.

Visenya’s amusement brought no pleasure to Aemond, his expression taut, his neck tilting up to look at the dragon approaching him. The dragon halted, lowering its head almost appearing as though it were sneering at the young prince. Aemond stilled, taking one step back as Silverwing’s jaw neared him. Visenya’s eyes wide with an intrigue as she watched her dragon interact with her uncle. Silverwing was indeed, sizing him out. Aemond’s chest rose, and with that he stepped back once more, folding his arm as though he were unimpressed with the beast’s size. Silverwing giving out a soft huff as she moved, her large head nudging against Visenya.

“She was Queen Alysanne’s dragon.” Aemond spoke matter-of-factly.

��You know of her histories?” The princess raised her brow.

“Unlike you, I have decidedly taken an interest in our House’s legacy. It apart of our duty.” Aemond replied, firmly.

Visenya scoffed, turning as she sauntered towards him, her arms folded as a smug smile appeared upon her lips. “I am far too busy actually flying and tending to my dragon to have time to reading of other Targaryen’s doing the same.” Her voice haughty.

“I have yet to see you do such a thing.” He furrowed his brow in disbelief.

Aemond watched as Visenya placed a gentle hand upon Silverwing, whispering a soft farewell before they exited her lair, the princess spoke smugly, “Yes, well I do not expect you to pay much attention to my doings. Regardless, I am already rather adapt, Daemon said I did not need a saddle so-“

“Daemon?” Aemond raised his brow, and Visenya shrugged, nonchalantly about the fact. “Yes.”

The young prince furrowed his brow in deep disapproval, his stern demeanour returning as he stopped, Visenya turning as he spoke.

“Uncle should know better than to allow such a thing.” He barked. Visenya stepped forward scoffing. “So? Those bloody Maesters- “

Aemond stepped closer, his voice overlapping hers. “Those Maesters are doing their duty in making sure you are equipped to ride properly. You ought not to be going on saddleless joyrides with Uncle Daemon.” The Prince stared sharply, unyielding.

“Are you to tell on me?” The princess gritted her teeth.

A disenfranchised look came to Aemond’s face, he spoke more like a father scolding his daughter than a boy of her own age “Daemon is not fit to minding you. You are a Princess of the Relam, if anything were to happen-“

Princess Visenya’s eyes widened in both panic and fury, she could not have the precious time she spent with her father ruined by Aemond’s incessant need to dob. “But nothing did happen! If you dare speak a word of this I shall tell my brothers that I had caught you sobbing and sulking in the Dragonpits all by yourself… like a helpless, pathetic babe whining for its mother.” She interrupted.

“Do not dare.” He sneered, his gaze lowering.

“Swear you shall not tell.” Her voice raised, stern. Silence fell between the two as their gazes pierced into each other, they stood opposed in the darkened space. “Swear it.” Her tone sharp.

He said nothing, the silence lingered as he felt his strength faulter. “Fine.”

The two Targaryen’s did not speak again as they walked up out from the Pit’s entrance. Visenya’s eyes expanding in a deep trepidation as she was met with the folded arms of her mother, Rhaneyra’s face stern. “It may please you to know that you’ve had every guard and servant forced to abandon their duties so they may search for you.” Rhaneyra’s voice echoed at the carven entrance, her head tilted downwards as she gazed into the calculatedly soft eyes of her daughter.

“I had told you where I wished to go.” Visenya lowered her gaze in sweet self-admittance as her mother shook her head.

Rhaenyra spoke firmly to remind the young Princess her mother was indeed, well aware of her charmed tongue, often used to evade trouble. "And I had told you no more leisure trips to the Dragonpits without an escort.” Rhaneyra’s doubled down as the young Princess protested. “But mother- “

Rhaneyra’s tone softens as she steps forward, placing a hand upon her daughter's shoulder. “Visenya, I worry for you.”

Visenya turned her head, gesturing to the seemly meek Aemond which stood behind her “But I was not alone. Prince Aemond had accompanied me.” Visenya gave the young prince a narrowing gaze, subliminally signalling for him to nod; he did. The future Queen could not help but tilt her head, a small warmth in her chest as finally, it seemed there may be hope for some level of kinship between her own and Alicent’s children.

Rhaenyra regained focused once more, her voice almost lenient, “Aemond is but a year your prior and the King’s young son no less, tis not his duty to protect you. And while I am glad of the peace the two of you have forged...” Rhaenyra sighed softly, and shook her head a little, clearly unimpressed. “I will not have my only daughter risking her life to get to the Dragonpits, without a proper escort. The streets are most unpredictable, my girl.” She shuddered.

“I did not take the streets.” Visenya protested, a small smile upon her face as though the news would be pleasing to her.

Rhaenyra frowned, stepping forward to Aemond as her concern reignited as she gazed at them both, “You took the passages?" She leaned towards her daughter, her voice hushed so that her half-brother would not hear. "I ought to have the mind to bar you in your chambers until the moon turns!” Rhaneyra's tone hardened once more.

Visenya looked down, her gaze ruminating on the floor as her mother’s tone grew stern, there was a pause; she felt embarrassment coil within her, why must mother do this in front of him, she thought. Rhaenyra sighed as she noted her daughter’s meek demeanour she let her frustration dissipate, she did not dare scold her own child in front of her half-brother.  Aemond noticed the tension ease between them, he remained still, his arms held behind his back as he watched Visenya. Satisfaction bloomed within him; he’d never seen her so… passive.  

Rhaenyra yielded, her tone softening, “You must take an escort, sweet girl. I’ve little desire to strip you of your freedoms, so do not force me to do so.” Visenya looked up, her pale violet eyes meeting those of her mother, Rhaenyra placed a gentle hand upon her daughter’s head, stroking her silver hair.

Visenya gave a small and conceded, “Yes, mother…”

As the moment came to an end, Rhaneyra’s gaze came to the young green prince before her, Alicent’s son… her father’s son… her younger brother.

Aemond shuffled under his sister’s gaze, they had hardly ever spoken all he knew was that she bore bastards, that she was the King’s favoured child. Rhaenyra spoke again, clearing her throat. “Come, the both of you. I fear the Queen, has sent for your whereabouts, Aemond.”

With that, the three Targaryen's took to exit the Dragonpits, not another word was uttered.

○ii○

[whereismymindnow]

o.0

[allkordelia]

Keep Me Near Your Heart XXI

"This all such a mess...a big mess...Why...What were you hoping to accomplish when you brought that woman here, Alicent?"

Alicent stare ahead at the flames in the fireplace despair and bitter, ignoring the woman she considered to be her second mother, she and the rest of the family were in the great chambers, Jaenara and Aemond have been gone for five days and the due date was coming up close. And no one know where they are. Their dragon are gone, of course, and nobody from Mageonste or Dragonstone seen them. It's as if they disappeared off the face of the earth, and it's all her fault.

"I can tell you that, mother. She was trying to get rid of Jaenara, so the bastard can give her a real grandchild." Aeron accused glaring at his half-sister as she sat sulking in the armchair close to the fireplace.

"You don't know if thats true, Aeron." Valaena spoke up quickly to defend her sister, she walks up  behind her husband to stand next to him.

"No, it's true." Aegon announce, getting everyone attention expect for his mother as he tilt his goblet back, "What? We all know it is." He says when he notice everyone looking at him.

Rhaelle looks away from her cousin with distress look, she was so worried about Jaenara and the babe, when she went to her chambers that night in hopes to comfort her. The young girl and her prince were no where to be find, at first Rhaelle didn't think much about it, she knew how the young girl felt and she understood that she needed time away. But, that's didn't mean she had to like the fact that her neice was in the wind. 

"I still do not see why we can't go looking from them." Alys says looking over at her mother with her arms cross.

"They need to come home on their own, we can not just drag them back if they are not ready to come home and...and for all we know, maybe they don't even want to come back."

Alys frowns at her mother, before she look over at Alyssa to see her with a small frown too.

It was true. Everyone knew it. What happened at the dinner was despicable and cruel, it was obvious that Alicent wanted to get under Jaenara's skin. And they all knew why, after the private dinner that caused tension between not only Rhaenyra and her father but the king and his queen.

"Maybe, that's a good thing." Rhaenyra said.

Multiple pair of eyes glare over at her as she sat on the couch between her older and younger son, Luke look over at his mother with a deep frown.

"In why in the fuck would that be a 'good thing'" Alys hiss, rhaenyra looks over at her cousin with a placid look.

"I'm just saying, if she doesn't want to come back maybe there's more than one reason than what happened at dinner."

"Yeah, and we're looking at her right now." Baelon snips.

Rhaenyra ignore her cousin before looking at her lady wife and lord husband as daemon just walked in putting his hand on his wife back.

"You know I'm right." Rhaenyra says.

Rhaelle frown at her princess-wife before turning her attention to the queen, Jaenara didn't really talk much about the first couple of months of her marriage to Aemond. All she told us was she miscarried before this one and that's it, we probably wouldn't have known about the miscarriage if it wasn't for Alicent bringing it to light one night at dinner.

"Hard for me to say, but maybe she's right."

Rhaelle along with her kin look at Maekar with a mixture of expressions.

"Are you serious?" Baelon says in dismay, not believing what he was hearing, Maekar gives his mother a look.

"Sadly." Rhaenyra roll her eyes looking away, "But, I wouldn't put it pass Aemond to punish Jaenara for her brother's actions." Maekar looks over at Lucerys, who frown at his cousin making Jacerys glare at Maekar.

"This isn't Luke's fault."

"I didn't say it was, did i?" Maekar snip.

"Then, what are you trying to say, because last time I check. Aemond ran off with Jaenara and they seem to be  happy with one another."

"Well, if your self-righteousness wasn't blinding you, you would have notice how much your sister has change. How she doesn't smile as much as she use to or how she rather spend most of her time outside in the garden than inside the castle--" Romarn chuckles making Maekar stop to look at him.

"It sounds like you fancy her, cousin."

Maekar roll his eyes at Romarn.

"No, unlike you have a very keen sense of detail that helps me understand what's going on around me." Maekar snide, making Ronas snort.

"Sure you do, did your 'keen sense of detail' tell you anything when you were watching her and aemond cooing another that night." Ronas smirk.

Maekar swallow as he stare at his cousin, the look he was giving them was emotionless and some of the others in the room stood awkwardly silent at the tension that appear in the room.

"No." He finally answered, making Ronas raise a brow while his brother grin, "But, if you have any keen sense of a brain, I advise you to keep your asinine, which means foolish by the way, remarks to yourself unless you want to swallow all of your teeth." He threatened.

Ronas roll his eyes with a peeve look, unlike his younger brother, Romarn sneer at the older boy.

"No need to be so testy, Mae." Romarn ribbed, making Maekar flick his eyes to him,"You should learn how to take a jest, maybe then jaenara would find your company a little less intimidating." He chuckle.

Maekar narrow his eyes at his young cousin before he close his eyes and took in a deep breathe before reopening his eyes as he exhale, the rest of the clan watch holding their breath as Maekar turn his attention back to Romarn.

"Yes...Maybe your right, cousin." Romarn smirk as he raise his brow with a look, "Maybe that's why it was easy for you to get Alyaena into bed--"

"Maekar! You bastard." Alyaena cries out with a look of horror and embarrassment.

"I guess humor can be consider an aphrodisiac." He shrugs nonchalant before looking away from Romarn's shock expression, while Alyaena glare at her brother.

"Fucking pig." She mumbled making her brother look at her.

"Stop fussing. If you want to blame someone blame that idiot you let dump his seed into you--"

Alyaena growled balling her fists, she turns to Romarn who looks back at her with a fear in his eyes.

"I'm going to kill you--"

"No." Daemon was quick to around his wife and grab Alyeana's elbow before she could charge at her moronic cousin, her father pulled her back to stand between him and his wife.

"It slipped out." He said low with a sheepish look.

Alyaena roll her eyes angrily looking away from him and crossing her arms, Daemon kept a close eye on his daughter as another argument ensures. 

"Slip out? More like he projectile vomited it out, he wouldn't stop talking until he finally passed out." Aegon chortles from his seat besides Adrielle and Helaena, romarn glared at aegon.

"Shut up." He snapped, "Atleast I wasn't making a fool of myself. Oh where's my belove? Where Adrielle? Where is my beautiful wife, Adrielle? Adrielle, Adrielle, Adrielle." Romarn mocks with a annoyed look, aegon scowled him before he could say anything Adrielle spoke up.

"Don't even justify that with an response, Aegon." Adrielle said leaning against Aegon, "He is just mad that he doesn't have the type of relationship you and I have." Adrielle looks at her lover who gaze at her with a lovesick smile, Aegor stood behind his adopted sister with a shake of a head.

"A relationship build on empty promises and lies, why would anyone want such a union."

Adrielle snap her head around to glare at Aegor, he looks back at her with a raise brow with a look that made her look away with a bitter mood.

"Well, not all of us are bless to be born a boy, little brother. Not all of us have a say in what we can do in our life--"

"Stop it." Aeron interrupted.

"Don't you dare blame my gender for your shortcomings, big sister." He sneer, "It is not my fault that you can't learn to keep your legs close, or mouth for that matter."

"Aegor, that's enough! Apologize to your sister." Valaena chided with a displease look, Aegor look over at his mother before looking back at his sister.

He look at her for a minute, she had a brow raise high with a smug look, she mouth taunts at him as aegon looks at him with a sneer.

"I'll apologize when she pray to the gods for forgiveness."

"For what?" Adrielle gives him a offended look, Aegor tilt his head to the side.

"For killing your baby."

Adrielle's face drop along with Aegon, the room went quiet, so quiet that rhaelle could hear the rats in the walls.

"What is he talking about, Adrielle." The young princess drop her gaze to the floor, "...Aegor." Aeron turn his accusing eyes to his eldest son, who averted his own to anywhere that wasn't his family.

"Maybe, this should be discuss in a more private setting–" Rhaelle started.

"No! There's no need for that...I already got my answer."

Aegor and Adrielle look towards each other before looking at their father, Aeron stare at them with a coldness that they never been on the receiving end of before.

"Papa--" Adrielle start with tears in her eyes but Aeron raise up a hand stopping her.

"Don't." He drop his hand with an exhale, "I have allow you to do..whatever you want for the pass seventeen years, mainly because of your mother, but now I see I should have done more." He nodded to himself before he looks up at his daughter, he glance at aegon before looking at adrielle, "This decision hurts me more than you can ever imagine." Adrielle frown at her father's words before staring in confound as he turn on his heels walking away.

"What does that mean?" She asked once he left out the door, Adrielle look at her mother and grandmother, "M-Mama, what does father speak of?" She asked desperately, Valaena snap out of her thoughts before she looks at her daughter.

Valaena didn't say a word as she turns making Adrielle stand up from the couch, she called for her mother again only for it to fall on deaf ears as Valaena left quickly. Adrielle stood in the middle of the room feeling as if her world just came crumbling around her, Aegon glance at Helaena who stare at Adrielle with worry.

Alyssa was the first to move as she stood and walk over to her cousin, she touch Adrielle's shoulder gently as the other girl stare blankly at the door.

"Adrielle...Are you alright?" Alyssa whispered moving to stand beside her.

Adrielle didn't respond instead she starts crying, she covered her mouth before she stumble forward towards the door.

"Adrielle!" Aegon called after concerned before getting off the couch with Helaena in toe.

They left the great chambers to follow after Adrielle, the rest of the family stood still watching in utter shock. Again, Alyssa was the first to move and she turn to Aegor with a look, making the other boy sense his belove heated gaze.

"Don't look at me like that, she started--"

"Your an ass, Aegor." Alyssa snapped making Aegor roll his eyes.

"Spare me, please." He started, "She did it to herself, if she stop pushing me--"

"You could have walked away." Baelon said, Aegor look at him.

"Would you and Alys."

Baelon glance at Alys before shrugging his shoulders.

"Fair point."

Alyssa rolled her eyes at him putting her attention back on her nephew.

"You had no right--" She pointed at him.

"Gods! Why is it every time something happens between me and adrielle, im the one at fault and not her."

"That's not true, darling." Rhaelle said.

"But, it is, my mother has always taken adrielle's side and father only does what mother tells him to do." He says, "It's not fair she never gets in trouble...never." he looks at Alyssa before shaking his head and stalk towards the door.

Rhaelle touch his arm but he only kept walking, Alyssa goes after him not before giving her mother a look that she take care of him before leaving out the door.

"Can this day get any worse." Alyaena utter under her breathe before flopping down on the couch that was inhabited by Adrielle, Aegon, and Helaena.

Just as she said that Alicent gets up from her chair catching everybody's else attention, the queen turns slowly looking over towards rhaelle with red eyes and dried tears covered her flush cheeks.

"Do you really wish to know why I brought Alys River here?" Alicent said in a low and empty voice, rhaelle swallow eyeing Alicent, "I brought her here because I knew if jaenara saw her...she fall back into desolation, she would have shut herself out, stop eating, and slowly fade away in her room like before. She would have loss the baby but...atleast Aemond would have had Rivers and their child in the end." Alicent finish, she glance around the room fo Daemon along with his children glare at her with hate, while Rhaenyra and her son were unbothered by her words.

Alicent snap her eyes to rhaelle when the old queen took a step forward before walking up to her, Alicent straighten her back and she close her eyes, hoping the slap would be painful. She waited for a moment, but nothing came, she opened her eyes and she felt her heart crack in her ribcage as she stare back at the disappointed and unforgiving eyes of her step-mother.

Rhaelle gaze over Alicent's features trying to figure out what she did to make Alicent like this, all she ever done was be a good mother to her and love her like she birth her. But, love from rhaelle wasn't enough for the queen, or maybe there wasn't love in her at all, maybe Otto made sure of that.

Alicent held her breathe when rhaelle opened her mouth, but rhaelle stop herself and purse her mouth shut. She looks at Alicent with a tired a look before she turn away from her, Alicent watch with furrow brows as the rest of the family follow after the former queen.

Rhaenyra was the last to leave, she held onto the handle of the door before looking at Alicent. The queen stood there hollow as tears gathered in her eyes again, Alicent look at Rhaenyra finally, they stare at each other for a moment before Alicent was the first to look away and turn back to the fure. Rhaenyra watch as she sat back down again and went back to staring emotionless like statue at the fireplace, the older princess slowly closing the door behind her as a feeling she never thought she feel for Alicent again appeared.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | One

Word Count: 4.9k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, oral (m receiving), Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, a dash of religious guilt if you blink

Series Masterlist

It was then the Prince had insisted that he had wanted her for himself. For her maidservant duties of course. 

The other maidservants were delighted with the new gossip, tittering amongst themselves at the reasoning that the One-Eyed Prince had taken a special interest in the new maidservant for which they’d come up with all sorts of reasons. 

Perhaps it was because of her pliant, quiet nature and she could slip into the chambers largely unnoticed and one wouldn’t be able to truly see her presence until she spoke. The other women had often described her as such. That she was like a shadow, silent, but always looming behind someone else. That she was like a breeze, gentle and discreet, as every maidservant should be in the presence of her master.

Or perhaps, they speculated, that it was because of another, darker reason. That Prince Aemond intended to make some fun for himself and torture the poor girl with his mere presence and shrinking stare with his one good eye, the other sapphire one on full display, rooting fear into the shy, young thing. That he wanted someone to torment, as he had so often been tormented himself and found the power behind it exhilarating.

Nobody could have expected the true reasoning behind his newfound desire for her company. Not even she herself. But the other maidservants were at least grateful they no longer had to enter his chambers.

Having only Prince Aemond to run after was a nice change of routine, albeit a strange one. For a man who had requested she be at his beck and call, he was rarely ever in his chambers past the morning. Usually, he could be found in the training yard for hours on end, and it occurs to her that this is how he’s managed to build the form he has, by mercilessly pushing himself to his limits for hours everyday. It must be hard work, she thinks to herself. 

He would only return in the early evening, to prepare himself for supper and then once again later for his bath and then bed. It was a rigorous routine, but it was nice to have some consistency in her life for a change. 

One morning after placing her week’s wages into the pocket within her pillowcase, she smoothes down her apron over her maidservant dress, intending later to send some of the copper coins to her young siblings, for without their parents to provide, as the eldest it landed to her and her alone to care for them.

Everyday she thinks of them and how they had begged her to not leave them in the care of the smelly widow from next door after their father had finally succumbed to illness. Her younger brother had stomped his feet, with each thump he would say 'she smells like cabbages' and the young woman would bite back her laugh, tell her brother that he was to be polite to their neighbour and that he was not to mess with the purple plants at the front of her home, or else she’d have him for supper.

She’d kissed her younger sister, the middle child, but several years younger than her, on the crown of her head and gave her a sad smile, apologising that such responsibility had fallen onto her at such a young age. Her sister had given her a tight hug, not wanting to play the big sister and fall into the endless cycle of domestic prison that could be seen once the eldest had disappeared. But she’d eventually relented and let her older sister depart for her new position in King’s Landing. With a warm wave, she’d boarded the stuffy carriage with other smallfolk, using all of her coin for the passage there and bid them goodbye.

She said she would come back for them.

And at the time she meant it.

It filled her stomach with dread and fear, to know she may never see them again, doomed to live her life in the manner of which she was born as a peasant to do. To do the same dirty, back-breaking work, day in and day out, for the same measly copper she was paid until the day her legs gave out. Or perhaps until they found no more use for her.

At least she could give them funds, she thought. 

Only a week had gone by, but she felt as if she could walk the short distance to his chambers blindfolded. She always knocked, but in the middle of the day, he was never there. So when she swings the chamber door open and shut behind her, she goes about her usual duties with a contented sigh. 

His chambers were usually always clean and not so much in need of excessive housekeeping. Once his bedsheets were made, the cotton taut to the corners of the mattress, she moves onto her cleaning duties. The fireplace needed a good dusting, so she takes her outer skirt and tucks it into her apron to keep it out the way and turns up her sleeves over her elbows. She’s used to getting dusty and grubby in her work, but fireplace work with soot and the burning stench is possibly her least favourite.

Suitably covered in soot, she continues to sweep up the black dust into the bucket beside her, wiping her face with her clean forearm, fingers too dirty to brush that stray curl from her face, so it hangs there annoyingly. 

“Working hard as always, I see.”

His voice makes her hairs stand up on end and had she not been head first in the fireplace, covered in soot and blackened ash at her cheeks, she might have been less embarrassed. But her cheeks flush at her dirtied appearance and she is immediately stood to attention, brushing whatever she can off her apron.

“Your grace, I apologise for my appearance,” she blubbers hurriedly, clearly distressed.

Aemond stands at the doors and she is amazed to find out that she didn’t even hear them open in the first place. He must have light footing, which surprises her since she has seen him train so aggressively and knows that hefty, adept and quick skills are needed for such activities. He wears his usual black leather doublet, hands behind his back as if he is hiding something and that signature lob-sided smirk he seemed to wear whenever he had found his little maidservant in his chambers. 

She is now accustomed to his trained silences in between conversations and has come to understand that it is because he is thinking so deeply about something that his mouth cannot move at the same time. And yet, he stands, basking in the uncomfortable feeling he gives her, rather enjoying it and letting his eye wander over her. He pauses and smiles wider at seeing her outer skirt tucked into her apron, showing the cream skirt underneath and when she notices, she quickly plucks it out and lets it fall around her ankles. 

Aemond lets the chamber doors close behind him, striding past her for the side table where the wine decanter sits. He moves past her with such speed that the stray curled strand of hair wafts a little in the still air. She cannot deny the aura this man has and the sheer authority he gives off, despite not being the first born of the King and Queen. Every time he enters the room, he commands the space and everyone in it with little but his gaze and even now, she stands where she had been, dirtied hands clasped before her, waiting for him to address her, command her, anything.

Emptying the first cup of wine, he sighs, tongue darting out to fetch the stain of it from his lips and he looks upon the petite little maidservant, waiting patiently.

“Continue.” 

She need not be told twice. Instead of tucking her dress back into her apron, she folds it behind her as she kneels before the fireplace once again, collecting the ash and old logs and filling her bucket with them, replacing them with new ones for later in the evening when the fire will be lit.

Aemond thrives in her obedience. The way she just does as she is told without speaking. So polite, he thinks. So as he sits in his armchair, shamelessly watching her as she replaces the logs, he finds he cannot tear his eye away from her profile, how soft her features are for someone who works doing such arduous and menial tasks everyday. He thinks her hands must be calloused, but when he looks upon them, they look so soft.

She had a profile that would rival the ladies at court. If he told her to wear the right dresses, hold her head high, keep her mouth shut, she could be his lady.

But he will certainly not say such things to her.

It may give her ideas above her station.

As she sweeps the soot off the tiles, he watches the way her body moves with the effort, the way her lips are parted in concentration. Such little, pink lips. 

He taps his finger against the cup, biting on his cheek when he feels the pained strain of arousal in his breeches. Such an innocent little maidservant, obedient and pliant. He knew from the moment he saw her what to do with her. What he could do with her. The week following their first meeting, Aemond had barely had his cock from his hand, tugging it as he thought of the way she always calls him ‘your grace’ with a flush to her cheeks. The way her eyelashes flutter when she strikes a match to light his candles. And today, seeing how she is dirtied and bent over the fireplace, he thinks why wait, he could just have her right there. Why wait.

The question becomes more difficult to answer the more he looks at her.

She stands with the bucket heavy in her hands and strides towards the door.

“Wait.”

And his cock twitches in his breeches when she does, looking back at him with those eyes, the ones he imagines glazed over with lust, looking up at him as he fucks her. His tongue pokes his cheek as he stands, taking his time while walking towards her, not missing the way her grip tightens around her clasped hands out of nervousness. 

He scans her face as he stands before her, blackened soot smeared across one of her cheeks, making the colour of her eyes look as if they are illuminated by light.

He swears he could spill right into his breeches as his hand reaches out to her cheek and her lips part to let a puff of surprised air out. His thumb brushes her cheek, wiping away the soot and he finds his own lips part at the feeling of her warm skin against his hand. 

Although his touch is warm, she can feel something akin to fear pool in her gut and something else she does not quite understand. A shiver also runs down her spine when his hand twists that stray curl between his fingers, as if intrigued by her.

She can quite literally feel her lungs contract when his thumb brushes against her bottom lip, barely breaching them, but collecting the wetness that sits at the waterline. He watches her little pink mouth, reddened and oh-so desirable. He wonders what her mouth would feel like wrapped around his cock, fingers threaded in her hair to guide the rhythm to his liking. Would she like it? Would she swallow his spend like the good little maidservant she is? Was she a maiden? Aemond knew she was. And for some reason, it made him want her even more, knowing that no other man has had her, or would ever have her like he wanted to. Like he would.

Her eyes never leave him the entire time, frozen in place, pupils shaking and breath slow, quiet and scattered. Aemond wonders for a moment if she is standing there, cunny wet at the thought of him, at his actions. What would her slick taste like mingled with his? He finds he can't wait to find out.

She breathes again when he steps back, drawing his fingers away from her skin, leaving behind the hotness of his touch.

“Leave.”

Is all he commands. She swallows thickly, really processing what had just happened. But she takes her chance when he has turned around to refill his cup, the bucket clanging in one hand as she allows the chamber door to shut behind her.

Should she tell someone? Hedi perhaps? Should she tell them that she fears that Prince Aemond has unclean intentions, but she fears even more if that assumption is even warranted. He had not been unkind to her, nor had he been particularly kind in any way either. But he had no need to be, she was a lowborn servant and he was a prince of the realm.

She could not disappoint her siblings by risking this job and not sending them money. Risking their lives for a silly little thought of Prince Aemond’s intent with her? Based on no real evidence?

She couldn’t.

So she steadied her breath and instead resumed her duties, largely ignoring that gnawing pit in her stomach. There was a bad feeling around all this, and she couldn’t help but feel it deep in her bones.

She should have listened to her gut. She now realises.

Having lit the fireplace for his return after supper, she sat on the cold, flagstone floor with a needle and thread in one hand and one of his black doublets in the other, fixing the frayed hemming. The heat of the fire licked at the side of her face, warming her soft features as she delicately did her work, faintly humming the only song she knew the words to in her head.

Aemond had come back to his chambers in a mood, quickly shutting the door behind him so hard that it seemed to rattle the very Keep. At once, her wide eyes looked up and she stood to attention, hands clasped, and a timid ‘your grace’ from her lips, softer and quieter than she realised. 

He looked absolutely livid, shaking with rage, fists clenched so hard that the knuckles were white and pale. His mouth was taut in a thin line and even his scar managed to look angrier beneath the leather of his eyepatch, one good eye was still, unnaturally so. His chest inflated with silent breathing, trying to calm himself down. In the several weeks she had been attending to him, she’d come to realise the depth of his frustrations for various reasons, but never daring to step beyond her station to ask why.

She breathed as quiet as she could, as if she were in the dark and someone dangerous was looking for her. For a moment, his eye flitted to the floor and then back to her. For a brief second, she thought he was looking at the doublet she was fixing, but it took her a moment to realise he’d been looking at her, dragging his gaze over her form. This fact alone sent gooseflesh on her arms and a shiver down her spine, unable to tell if this feeling was fear or not.

With a low hum, he stalked over to the side table for a cup of wine as he often did, thinking that he would dismiss her shortly, not knowing the aching arousal that he was trying with all his might to conceal. He stood for a moment, not saying anything as he sipped the spiced wine, allowing himself time to decide what to do. She was right here, his obedient little thing, nervous with gooseflesh on her skin and cheeks a dusty pink. 

He turned around to look upon her, still at war with himself.

Out of sheer nervousness, her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

And that’s when Aemond decided. He needed to have a taste of the little maidservant. Or rather she would have a taste of him.

He stood before her, tall, broad and all encompassing, and she directed her eyes to him, still waiting to be addressed. He simply glared down at her, as if still angry, but in truth the hold he had on his own reins were slipping by the second with every breath the little maidservant let free. He finished his cup of wine, sighing as he looked upon her. 

“Take your braids out,” he commanded. 

She blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. But when he raised an eyebrow, she took a steadying breath and reached behind her. Not one to refuse a Prince and a passionately angry one at that, she pulled the two pins that kept her braids in place away and tucked them into her apron. She looked down as she began to unravel them, one by one, the hair coming apart in waves around her shoulders. Once all the hair was freed, Aemond hadn’t moved an inch and she flicked her hair over her shoulders to run down her back.

Aemond sighed quietly, looking over her in this new state, hair loose and shockingly casual. He was intrigued to see that the rest of her hair, like the wayward curl at the side of her face, was also wavy from the braids she’d put in everyday. And he wondered if the beautiful patch of hair that framed her cunny would be the same. He hoped so. And he wondered what the heady scent of her sex would be like, if it would be addictive and once he’d had it, would he be able to stop?

She stood there, eyes averted to the fire and Aemond watched as the flames danced off the colour of them. His breath shuddered with anticipation, watching her pulse thrum in her neck.

Placing the empty cup on the mantle, he cannot hold back any longer.

“Kneel.”

She looks at him again, now her eyes spell confusion. Does he want her to kneel to prove her obedience? She doesn’t know. 

Her lips part, “pardon me, your grace?” she says in a whisper. 

“I will not ask twice,” he barks back almost immediately.

She swallows thickly and smoothes her hand over her apron, tucking the dress beneath her knees as she obeys, slowly sinking back to the floor. She clasps her hands before her, not sitting back on her feet, eyes trained to one corner of the room to ignore the fact that Aemond’s thighs are right before her. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest and she is sure he can hear it as well. It was like she was hiding, waiting for someone to come and find her.

She flinches when she feels his thumb and forefinger grasp her chin, the touch is light but determined and he pulls her head up to look at him. From this angle, Aemond can see all her delicate features and with her lips parted, he sees the wet inside of her pink mouth, warm and inviting. All for him. He can feel his cock needing relief in the tight confines of his breeches and the urge is beginning to overpower him.

“You are my good little maidservant, are you not?” he asks, voice low and commanding.

She can feel her breathing struggling against the front of her dress and she dare not look away.

Finding her voice, she can all but whisper, “Yes, your grace”

He hums lowly, his thumb travelling up to her lips, dipping the tip of it between them. His fingers still cradle her soft jaw, keeping her where he needs her, while the flat part of his thumb finally slips across the warm muscle of her tongue. Aemond holds back the desire to outright moan at the feeling of it against his skin, collecting the wetness of her saliva against it, moving forward to completely allow his thumb to be enveloped by her hot mouth.

All the while, she keeps her eyes on him, afraid to look anywhere else. She feels strange, like a constant chill is making its way around her body, overtaking every nerve and replaced with a kind of dark, gnawing ache. It halts in her gut, where she feels it the heaviest. 

After a moment, he pulls his thumb free and coats her lips, making them glisten. He wonders if his spend would look as good as this smeared all over them. If she would be good, and dart her tongue out to lap it up.

Powerless to hold back any longer, Aemond hands move to the laces of his breeches, his pupil blown wide with lust at the innocent confusion on her face. 

“Now, sweet girl,” he says, the name making her hairs stand up on end, “will you be good for me.”

Again, not a question, more a demand. And she is so shaken, all she can do is nod. 

“Have you been with a man, sweet girl,” he asks, as he pulls his cock from its confines, using his hand to give himself a few pumps, the tip, red and glistening with early arousal. He already knows the answer. Just wants to hear her say it.

She shakes her head softly. “No…your grace,” she answers with a shake in her voice. She tries to avert her eyes from this member, hard to attention right before her.

One corner of his lips turns up at her bashful nature. One hand threads through her hair, right at her neck, not tugging but not letting go either. She gasps at the action, now unable to move her head. 

“Good.”

He holds his cock in one hand, aching to bury himself in her mouth. But he holds his animalistic desire back, for the sake of not scaring her too much.

“Open your mouth.”

She obeys, pushing her embarrassment aside for the sake of politeness to her prince. Her lips part to open her mouth, still unsure of what he will do, her innocence skewing the reality of what's happening to her.

"Wider," he says, now just a low whisper, “that’s it, sweet girl” he coos as she does so.

She cannot say she has seen a man’s parts before and now that she has, if he does intend to do what she thinks, it’s unknown if it will even fit. The thickness of it combined with the length daunts her slightly. As he taps the tip of his cock against her glistening lips, she grips her dress tighter, more out of embarrassment and nerves than anything else. Who would she be to refuse the orders of a Prince anyhow.

His fist tightens in her hair as he slips his cock past her lips, only halfway in he feels her tensing up at the foreign feeling, “breathe,” he orders quietly, “through your nose”.

She whimpers at the uncomfortable feeling and wishes not to see anymore, so she shuts her eyes tight, attempting to do as he says and breathe through her nose. His taste is strange, salty and yet not unpleasant. His member is warm and heavy in her mouth, despite not being all the way within and she can feel her mouth aching to accommodate his sheer size. His fingers are tight in her hair, an attempt to hold himself back, and she whimpers around his cock at the feeling of the tugging of her follicles, the vibrations of her mouth against him make Aemond tip his head back just slightly. He sighs at the feeling of her warm, wet mouth squeezing him so deliciously and he holds back the desire to deliver his spend right into her there and then.

Once he feels she has sufficiently calmed down, relaxed her jaw, Aemond sheathes himself all the way in, briefly touching the back of her throat, making her whimper around his cock again. Her hands fly to his thighs to push him back for reprieve, but he is much too strong for that and he only tightens his fist in her hair more.

Without waiting a moment longer, he cants his hips against her mouth, sliding in and then out slightly, enjoying the friction her mouth gives him. He sees that she still has her eyes shut, hands tight on his leather breeches now and he gives a shuddered moan, tipping his head back all the way now, losing himself in the feeling of fucking her mouth, guiding the rhythm with the hand that’s in her hair. 

Caring not that she is a maiden, he hastens his pace and her little whimpers are becoming too loud for him to really enjoy this.

“Quiet” he demands, much more spitefully than he intended .

And she is. Which makes him even more aroused than he could possibly be right now. So obedient. Just the good, sweet girl she is. 

At the ache in her jaw, tears begin to pool at the corner of her closed eyes and fall in thin lines down her face. Aemond is lost beyond control, his thrusts sloppy and unforgiving as he feels the tight, wound up pressure of his peak creeping up on him at breakneck speed. He dares to look down at her, accepting his cock into her mouth like a cunt, his shaft now wet with her saliva and thrusting into her with the soft beat of his hips. His other hand comes to the side of her face, using his thumb to wipe the streak of her tear away, before he uses it for more leverage.

He’s never felt more powerful in his life. To have such control over someone he so fervently lusts over. It’s other-wordly. And he has no intention of stopping, not as long as she continues to be the malleable, sweet little thing she is now.

His thrusts cease, and he presses his hips right against her mouth as a strangled and uncharacteristically loud moan escapes his throat. He can feel his spend shoot at the back of her throat, and her flinch when she also feels it. But doing as he says, she makes no sound. Not until his cum begins to pool in one corner of her mouth and only then does she emit the tiniest of sounds. He can now hear the hurried breathing out her nose as she waits for his next command.

Aemond allows his breathing to even out, savouring the look of her, eyes softly shut with his spend and cock in her mouth, before he slowly pulls out. Her lips tightly shut when he does eventually vacate her mouth.

“Look at me”

She can feel something dripping down her face and when she looks at him, he looks a different person entirely. Breathing ragged, hair slightly tousled, looking nothing at all like the prim and proper royal she is used to. Her eyes are glazed, cheeks a dusty pink from the efforts of what he’d done. She waits.

“Swallow”

Assuming he requires her gaze still, she looks between his eye and eyepatch and to the best of her ability, swallows the strange, salty and thick substance in her mouth. She thought it wasn’t unpleasant, the taste of it, but that her jaw ached and she felt the gnawing agony of shame sink in through her skin. Aemond moans outright when he sees her throat bob and her deep exhale after she’s obeyed. 

He uses his thumb to collect the line of spend that had leaked from her mouth and puts it back into her mouth, humming at the sight of depositing it against her tongue. She need not be told, and she wraps her lips around the digit, sucking whatever she can off of it, before Aemond is sure that it is clean and pulls out. She shuffles where she is knelt, her knees now aching from the stone, and she feels the slick between her legs as she does so, coating the inside of her thighs. And it confuses her. What is this strange sensation, seeming to come from nowhere, deep and ancient. 

Aemond sighs contently and stuffs his softened cock back into his breeches. 

“Leave. Now” is all he says to her, not sparing her a second glance as he strides towards the side table once more for another cup of wine.

With a shaky breath, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, still being able to taste the heady, potent taste of his spend. Scrambling to her feet, she dare not look back to him, fearing that the shameful belief within would intensify if she did.

Once the door was shut, she wipes her cheeks of any remaining tears and takes a moment to recover, trying to understand how she feels, what just happened, and what this means for her. Is she a maidservant or a whore. Perhaps she is both now. Living two separate lives for him once the sun has gone down. Does she enjoy the duality of it, she cannot say either way. All she knows is that she cannot possibly refuse him and that she’s not sure if she even wants to. The wetness between her thighs may sway her in one direction, she fears.

She offered up countless prayers to the Mother. For forgiveness. To make her understand. 

But the Mother never responded. 

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise​ 

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles  @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr  @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens Universe Series Masterlist

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, fingering, smut, angst, arranged engagement, obsession, violence, swearing, bullying, chauvinism, mention of injury, character's death ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

Author's note: The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them. I have decided that both Rhaenyra and Viserys' children are titled My Prince/Princess/Your Grace, and Baela and Rhaena are titled My Lady. For the purposes of this story, Lord Arryn has a son, to whom the female protagonist was later betrothed.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Rhaenys's Letters | The Song of Lonliness (Memories) | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 (End) | Aemond & Rhaenys's Children | Duty and Desire | Epilogue | To please, to serve (Years Later)

All Series & Scenes Moodboards The Lost Haven (Modern mafia AU) Play with my heart (Modern actors AU)