Indulging
Aemond Targaryen x F!Strong!Reader
Part 1: Deserving Part 2: Indulging Part 3: Striving
Summary: After your little adventure in the Stormlands, you are now betrothed to your prince. You have everything you have ever wanted. So why are you fleeing the Red Keep on the eve of your wedding…
Word count: 18.5k
Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut (6k words total!) Sexual tension, hurt/comfort. English is my second language.
N/A: Brace yourselves for the second half of this part lol Discover what happened during the 2 weeks between their adventures in the Stormlands and the wedding! One thing is for sure: they are feral all the way to the end. Unfortunately, Aemond can’t possibly let go of his demons in one night. Some Aemond POV too this time. Enjoy!
Masterlist | AO3
Aemond
Aemond slipped into your chambers after bribing the guards, like he did every night since you got back from your little adventure in the Stormlands. Only this time, all he wanted was a few words with you. And of course, you were not alone.
Unbeknownst to you, he entered your chambers and hid in the shadows. He watched as your maid brushed your long hair and exchanged some words with you. He noticed how tense you looked, fiddling with the hem of your nightgown’s sleeve. And he knew. He knew..
You were hurt, and he had to make it right again. Especially since it was the eve of your wedding. He refused to see everything fall apart after a fortnight only. Not when he spent his life longing for this.
It did not take long before you thanked your maid, confided you had a headache and wished not to be disturbed until the morning.
Aemond ducked behind a silk screen covered in paintings of flowers and birds. On it rested your impressive wedding gown. Blue silk trimmed with silver lace. He smiled when he saw the small dragon shaped clasps. His mother had the seamstresses working day and night for it to be done on such a short notice. He could not help but imagine you in it, holding his hands and swearing to the old gods and the new that you would be his until your last day.
Holding his breath, he watched the maid curtsy and leave your chambers. He was about to reveal himself when suddenly, he froze in place.
Your eyes were glued to the door and you listened carefully as your maid’s footsteps slowly faded in the distance. After a few seconds, you got up and stripped until your naked form was all he could see in the dim lighting. Seeing you undress was always a peak of his day… but then you reached for something that did not look like your nightgowns.
…What was it? Some kind of commoner's dress? It was a simple flowy white dress that hung from your shoulders with red beads.
Still hidden, Aemond stood in silence as his worst nightmare manifested before his eye. A chill ran down his spine when you put on a hood and grabbed a pair of simple leather boots. The kind of boots you can easily run away in, he thought.
For an instant, you seemed hesitant. Looking at your vanity, you probably thought about how awful the last hours— fortnight, even— had been. A nightmare for you, he was sure.
He had warned you. The people at court were cruel and sometimes, he wished he could sweep in with Vaghar and burn them all until they were nothing more than ashes. And he would probably do it now.
It was too much for you. You were hurt… And you were leaving.
Good things never came to him, so however heartbreaking it was to see you flee like a thief in the night… it did not come as a surprise to him. He was but a crippled second son with nothing to offer except his love, and you deserved so much more. Your former betrothed was certainly a better option, with his own castle, lands, armies… and looks…
His chest tightening, his heart breaking, he watched as you grabbed the necklace he gave you long ago. The necklace you wore everyday since. You almost put it on, but ultimately shoved it in your pocket along with some crumpled up paper and other whatnots.
Reader
You observed yourself one last time in your mirror, to gather some strength if anything… when you unexpectedly noticed him in the dark.
His impeccable silvery white hair picked up some of the light from the fire burning beside you. Hidden in a corner, Aemond stood tall, eye locked on you, arms crossed behind his back. He had a weary frown and his lips were pressed in a thin line.
Oh gods.
Eyes widening, your spine straightened as you got caught and he slowly walked up to you. His hair bounced on his shoulders and his wonderful amber and sandalwood scent hit you at once when he stopped mere inches away from you.
You looked up at him and you knew he tried to keep a straight face, but you could feel the hurt behind his eye.
“Aemond– ” you said quietly.
“You are leaving?” he sharply queried.
Your eyes widened even more, panic seeping through. “Aemond, I–”
“No, let me speak.” he insisted bitterly.
You feared what he was about to say. You felt his ire. You felt his ache. He was cross with you.
He had been so silent lately and you always hated when he did that. Still, you did not think he would show up to your chambers this night of all nights. Seeing your betrothed on the eve of your wedding, bad luck and all. Superstitions, merely, but your prince was keen on tradition and you respected that.
Then again, you knew why he came to you anyway. The day, nay the last two weeks, had indeed been… eventful.
A fortnight before
Reader
When you went through the Mud Gate, you saw your father and almost thirty guards standing in a circle, planning the day’s search party for Aemond and you. The Prince and the daughter of the Hand had been missing for more than a day by now. You felt guilty when you imagined your father frantically looking for you everywhere as you did not come back the previous day.
Well… you almost felt guilty.
Even though your original plan was to confess your love and devotion to Aemond during your trip in the Stormlands, you had not planned to take shelter in a village inn during a frightful storm. You had not planned for Aemond to shut down, resulting in you gouging words out of him. You had not planned to share a ridiculously small bed and to spend the night wrapped in each other's arms. And you definitely had not planned for you to make passionate love that very morning after he surrendered his heart, body and soul to you.
“There they are, my lord”, one of the guards said. Suddenly aware of the crowd, you let go of your prince’s hand and went to your father. You saw relief in his eyes and he hugged you tight when you reached him. You tried to hide your bare arms under your cloak, but you were not quick enough to escape his sharp eye.
The Queen rushed to you as well. She kept pulling at Aemond’s hair to tame it, but nothing could be done. It was still wavy from the pouring rain and the flight back. To be fair, you were both a mess. Your clothes smelled of dragon and were coated in mud and dust.
Aemond pushed the Queen’s hands away in a gentle manner and immediately asked for an audience with the King and your father. He did not waste a single second. As promised.
He took your hand again as you all climbed the stairs, heading to the council meeting chamber. However, when you went to enter the room, your father requested that you wait outside.
Aemond turned to you and planted a chaste kiss on your knuckles…then cupped your face and swiftly kissed you on the lips. Your pulse went wild and pink bloomed on your cheeks. He smirked arrogantly, amused by your sudden shyness. Just like when you were children, he waited to see if you would kiss him back.
To say you were shocked by your prince’s doings was un understatement. Usually, he did that when people were not looking. Certainly not under the stare of the three most powerful people in all of the Seven Kingdoms. One of them being your own father.
You kissed him back quickly. He then disappeared into the room, still smirking. Indubitably flustered, you turned around, avoiding any and all eye contact, curtsied and left. You waited until the guard closed the door to run around the corner and reach a certain tapestry. Your father had you play cupbearer during some council meetings in the recent years, so you knew about the hidden vent.
A vent allowing you to hear and see everything.
“I do think it oddly coincidental that the day your daughter’s betrothal to Lord Tyrell’s son, Luthor, was announced, my own son and her went missing only for them to reappear a day later, wishing to join our two families in front of the Seven.” Queen Alicent told your father in one breath. She turned her head to address Aemond directly. “Is she with child?”
“Your grace—” began your father.
“Of course not, mother!” cut Aemond, annoyed.
“And the Hand gets to marry his daughter to a prince. How practical, Lord Strong– ”
“No, I get the honor of marrying her,” cut Aemond again. He stood in front of your father to speak to him directly. “For the longest time, even now still, she is the reason I get up in the morning. She is loyal and has always been there for me, even when my own family was not,” he confessed, avoiding the King’s gaze. “I wish I could apologize for acting so imperiously, but I will not take no for an answer.”
Queen Alicent gently pulled him aside while your father and the King discussed the matter of your current betrothed. “Are you certain? …Does she want this as well?”
You felt bad yet grateful for the Queen’s concern. You were not blind. She cared for the King, yes, but she was invariably thrown at him at a young age without any saying in the matter.
“She loves me, mother. Despite my temper, despite the snickers following me everywhere, despite my face, she loves me.” You had not said the words to him yet, but he clearly knew of your true feelings. Although, your heart shattered a bit at the self-loathing coating his words.
“My sweet boy, stop saying “despite”. It is not all there is to you.” The Queen uttered in a reassuring tone, leaning in to comfort her son but he backed off.
“I have loved her all my life.” he insisted. You knew that now, but hearing it again had your heart skipping a beat. “I was always yours” he admitted to you the same morning. The Queen opened her arms again. He embraced her this time.
“I know. And of course she loves you. She defended you so fiercely when you…”
She did not finish her sentence, but you knew all too well what atrocious event she was referring to. When his nephews and nieces gang up on him after he called them Strong bastards, no one– not even the King– stood up to defend him. Only his mother and you. Even if he had dragged your older brother into it, you had defended your prince.
When it came to it, the King gave his verdict… and he was pleased. The King was pleased. After all these years, he knew you as a sweet, thoughtful yet daring girl. “A real warrior, that one!” he proclaimed once, when he spied you knocking Aemond to the ground during hand-to-hand combat training in the yard. Furthermore, your father was an honorable man and the King did not have any doubt regarding his intentions.
King Viserys agreed to his son’s request and told your father they could surely work something out to “ease possible arising tensions”. Namely young Luthor Tyrell losing his bride a day after the announcement of his betrothal and a moon before his wedding.
The Queen declared the ceremony could be set in two moons time, at the Great Sept of Baelor. With his head held high and his face unreadable, Aemond only replied: “I wish to marry her in a fortnight.”
Your heart stopped again. Seeing him so eager almost made you tear up. The Queen begged him to be reasonable, reminding him that some lords and ladies would be traveling from afar, that they needed time to plan a tourney in your honor and feasts. You knew Aemond did not care about any of that. And he did not budge. “We will marry in a fortnight. It is enough time to gather her family and ours. That is all that matters.”
Alicent was not entirely sure Aemond told her everything, but accepted her son’s demands nevertheless. You ran back to the main entrance when the meeting was over and your prince went straight to you. Bracing his hands on each side of your waist, he whispered “It’s done, my betrothed.”
You looked at him with love and he mirrored your bright smile. He kissed your cheek this time and let his lips linger, relishing in the softness of your skin and the smell of your hair.
“Your father wishes to speak to you, dear girl,” the Queen imparted. “Aemond, you need to come with us. Unfortunately, you have duties to the realm beyond flying around on Vaghar.” she added, looking at you with a faint but genuine smile.
Aemond exhaled against your cheek, then stared at you with a look full of longing. You knew the only thing he wished for this instant was to drag you to whichever of your chambers were the closest… but to both your displeasures, he followed Sir Cristen to the armory for some princely duties.
“I have to speak to Lord Tyrell now. However much a gentleman Luthor is, he won’t be very pleased,” your father stated when you joined him in the council chamber.
“I’m deeply sorry, father. He seemed like a wonderful man.”
He smiled fondly but incredulously. “He was everything I ever wished for you. He was perfect, indeed… but something tells me you are not as deeply sorry as you say.”
You smiled slightly as an answer.
Hesitant, he peeked at the heavy doors still open and prone to indiscrete ears. Lowering his voice, he probed: “May I ask where you could possibly have been?”
“We visited the Stormlands. The weather made it too dangerous to fly back. We stopped at an inn for the night.” you simply stated.
“So you took shelter.”
“Yes.”
“Alone with the prince.”
“Yes.”
“And all of a sudden, the prince wants to marry you in a fortnight.”
You did not quite know if it was a question, a statement or an accusation. Or maybe was it all three?
“… he does, yes.”
He looked at you intently, demanding more details.
“I can be very persuasive.” you evasively asserted.
Indeed, he thought. He knew you went out there and got what you wanted. It seemed he was constantly underestimating you. He sometimes forgot you were no longer five of age and chasing cats around the castle grounds at Harrenhal. Now, you could inarguably rule a kingdom with that much resilience and volition.
Your father's eyes wander at your dress again. You hid once more your bare arms under your mud-caked hood. Not only did Aemond shred the white shift you normally wore underneath, he threw it in the damn hearth. “Inadvertently”, he assured you. Too eager to see your bare bosom to notice or care, more like. It had beautiful little flower embroideries, you were furious.
Your father thought about his next words carefully. Lowering his voice to almost a whisper, he inquired: “...am I right in thinking you find yourself in need of moon tea?”
You chewed on your cheek as you had flashbacks of your early morning… of Aemond slowly losing his composure as you shamelessly ground your hips on him… of the whole of you shaking uncontrollably under his taut body… of the faintest of “I love you” he breathed in your ear as he spilled himself deep inside you…
With your spine ramrod straight, without a trace of shame or remorse, you said: “I won’t insult you by pretending otherwise.”
He nodded, walked to the door. Before he left altogether, he added: “I am no fool, I will have some delivered daily and discreetly to your chambers,” You repressed a chuckle, wondering if it was necessary when the wedding was merely days away.
The late afternoon sun shone bright when Aemond found you in the gardens with Halaena. You were eating lemon cakes, both outstretched on cushioned chairs in a veranda by a glorious pond brimming with water lilies. You were freshly bathed and wore the most revealing dress you owned.
Aemond had also changed it seemed. His long hair was neat again. The Gods knew how tangled you left them that morning.
“My betrothed.” you jested. Or were you? It had a nice ring to it.
“See, I like this formal title.” he answered with a simple smile that curled his lips, his eye falling swiftly to your plump breasts half spilling out of your dress before he turned to Heleana. “Sister, I’m afraid I need my betrothed on some urgent matter.”
You saw fire in his eye.
“Indeed,” you concurred, knowing exactly what sort of business desperately needed your tending. “Thank you for everything Helaena, it was a lovely afternoon, I’ll be sure to find the book in the library.”
“You are not fooling anyone, you know,” she remarked as Aemond grabbed your hand and dragged you back to the Red Keep. He held onto your fingers so tight you thought you might lose them.
“You seem tense, my prince. What could possibly cause such restlessness?” you asked, yelping as he groped your behind through the fabric of your dress as an answer.
Three minutes.
That is all it took. Not even ten steps in the Red Keep and Queen Alicent intercepted you both, seamstresses in tow. A rushed royal wedding meant twice as much preparation. You needed to get your dress sorted out as soon as possible. You needed jewels made. You needed to learn the traditional nuptial dance and to learn your vows.
Aemond’s blood seemed to be boiling in his veins as you were separated once more.
Aemond
Clearly, the Gods were punishing the both of you. Aemond had to get hold of himself. He could not possibly be losing it. He was a grown man, for gods’ sake. He even wondered how he managed to go on about his day before you were betrothed to him.
The answer was barely.
It was no surprise he selfishly spent so much time with you. You made him feel good a little bit everyday, which was an exploit considering how people were utter cunts everyday.
He spent his time looking at you, observing you when you were not looking. Apparently, not as subtly as he thought he was being, you told him. He sometimes allowed himself to touch you. While you were training or riding Vhagar with him. Sometimes it was too much, and he shamelessly found relief in the arms of one of his mother’s chambermaids. He was not proud of it. Especially since you confessed spying on him once.
Training with you was the highlight of his days. He liked how strong you were, no pun intended. He liked the smell of you in the morning, when your hair was damp with sweat as you spared with your swords. You were one of the few who could best him in hand-to-hand combat. And you were truly deadly with your daggers. Unquestionably better than half the knights you trained with. He loved that about you. Even if he was horrified by the dozens of scars he found on you as you laid in bed with him.
He particularly enjoyed walking in the gardens with you. Even when you were children, you ran away from your septa only to meet him in your secret spot on top of the hill. Hidden in the tall grass, you would read books or nap under a willow tree. Lately, you also went at night to look at the stars and drink wine.
The library was his favorite. Especially since you decided you had to read books only wearing a nightgown lately. Everytime, he made sure the fire was dying. It was his own little punishment for the torture you seemed to enjoy putting him under. You were cold, but he got to see your breasts peak through the sheer fabric.
Lately, he particularly indulged in the little adventures you liked to plan. You gave him the destination, and he supplied the dragon to get there. When you asked him to go to the Stormlands the day before, he did not hesitate. He knew something was wrong. You had not joined him in the library the night before. Your absence at the morning training session had not gone unnoticed either.
Flying back in the storm was already the pinnacle of unpleasantness, but when you broke the news of your betrothal to another, Aemond fell into a sort of trance. He knew this day would come, and for a moment, he found the courage to let you go. He would not even speak, afraid to ruin everything. He knew how his silence irritated you at times, but he had to… for he knew what a life with him would be like.
He never dreamed of burdening you with a life ensnared in torment and ridicule. It meant incessant mockery, rude encounters and even ruder stares from the people of the court. He did not want that for you. He loved you enough to keep silent, wallowing in his own despair at the very idea of losing your ever soothing presence. He sacrificed his own desires for what he thought was best. He did not deserve you.
But then…
He did not expect to spend the night in your arms in a dingy inn during a storm.“I want you,” you repeated again and again while you threw yourself at him. You climbed on top of him, looking like a goddess in your simple white shift… you said all these filthy things about thinking of him while touching yourself at night… you shared how you wanted to feel him, wishing for him to make you scream his name… “Claim me!” you commanded, grinding your bare cunt on his equally bare cock.
Aemond was a prince, a dragonrider, a scholar, a trained fighter… but he was also just a man.
So he obliged. He willingly let go of everything that held him back and took whatever you would give him. Not only did you give him your body, you also gave him your heart and all your devotion. He loved you so deeply, he had no choice but to give in to what he desired the most for as long as he could remember.
The way you looked at him that morning was forever engraved in his memory. The morning sun hit his sapphire and hundreds of blue specks of light danced on your smiling face.
No one had ever looked at him like that.
It was the moment he knew that… mayhaps he could find happiness in a world that had been so cruel to him for years. The mere prospect of spending his days and his nights with you as his lady wife almost erased the misery of the last seven years. Misery he desperately tried to keep hidden from you. You, who inexplicably loved him.
Although, things were not settled yet. He could only manage to have the wedding ceremony held in a fortnight. He had his reasons. Hells, some part of him would have married you today if he had the possibility.
Aemond shook his head. Again all his thoughts were of you as the thudding of his boots echoed in the stone hallways. It was an hour before you had to join both your family in the royal dining room, and he had plans for the remaining time.
He went straight to your chambers and got past your guards without any hesitation. At this point, he did not care in the least.
He needed you. He needed you now.
His eye patch went flying through the room unceremoniously. He was about to do the same with his sword when he noticed the royal jeweler still taking measurements of your fingers and your neck. Aemond’s jaw clenched as he locked eye with you through your looking glass.
Intrigued by the giant sapphire Aemond wore, the jeweler stared at it. A little too long to Aemond’s taste in fact. He immediately went scrambling for his eye patch and held his sword right in front of him, as if it would somehow hide the clear swollen bulge in his trousers. From the look on your face, you appeared as out of sorts as he was.
He rarely spent his days without you, and while he could bear it before, now that you were his, it was torture.
Especially since he felt your touch. He savored your taste. He enjoyed your warmth and revelled in your scent. And he wanted it all again now.
He wanted your perfect breasts in his mouth and to tease you with his tongue until you arched into him. He wanted you soaking his sheets as he buried himself over and over again in your sweet cunt. He wanted you mewling in his ear while he held onto you so tight you could only shake and cry out as he brought you over the edge. He wanted to stay inside you after you were finished, relishing in your lovely heat, some part of him wishing for your belly to swell already, only to stun you with a thrust when he felt you drifting off.
Aemond wanted to worship you… but it seemed you could not be alone. For. One. Damn. Second.
He elected to sit on your dark blue velvet settee, picked a book from your personnel collection and tried to calm himself down.
Reader
Of course, by the time the jeweler had finished his business, you were expected downstairs for your first meal with the royal family.
You were finally alone, regardless of how improper it was for Aemond to be found in your chambers unchaperoned. He stared at you with raised eyebrows, utterly unimpressed as you laughed uncontrollably, wildly entertained by his state of distress. Oh how you liked to see his walls crumbling around him everytime he was in your presence now.
“I wish I shared your amusement.” he scoffed.
You would bet your life Aemond was on the brink of madness this very moment. You craved him too, but being late was out of the question.
“If I’d known it only took one night with me to completely unravel you, I would have acted sooner,” you bantered, raising a hand to tame a few strands of his hair.
His hands found your waist, fisting the fabric. “Mayhaps I should remind you which one of us was begging, this morning,” he purred in your ear, pressing his body to yours.
You stole away a kiss, but hauled him outside of your chamber. You did not have the will or strength to stop him– or yourself– if you stayed alone a minute more. That hitch that only he could scratch. You felt it desperately too.
You held his arm while he escorted you up the tower. Lamentably, there were people everywhere again. Your guards followed you. Servants carried wood to make fires later in the evening. Drunk knights laughed while exchanging lewd stories of their youth.
You crossed paths with a gathering of lords and ladies of the court. They went quiet and split to let you through. Some peered at you with wonder. Two of them exchanged quiet words as you passed by. Aemond's grip tightened on your arm and he quickened his pace. Of course, by now the whole castle knew of your sudden betrothal to the prince and you became a topic of conversation.
As if the day had not been long enough already, the diner felt like it would never end. First, the King drank to your health and talked of young love and the union of house Targaryen and Strong. Then plates upon plates appeared on the table and the meal went on and on. Aemond’s face was void of any emotion. He seemed so serious, but then you knew why.
When it came to spending time in his family’s company, he seemed like another person. He sat straight, rarely smiled and spoke even less. You knew he loved them immensely, especially The Queen and his sister, but he undoubtebly did not have the warm relationship you had with your brother Harwin, for instance.
You could feel how uncomfortable he was. Your hand resting on his thigh certainly did not help calming him down, even if your touch was simply loving and supportive. You let go of him, but he grabbed your hand and put it right back where it was without even glancing, all while he exchanged a few words with Prince Aegon. He entwined his fingers and brushed the back of your hand with his thumb. You tried being subtle… but you had to look.
He had beautiful hands. You thought about them all day, in fact. You could not help yourself, you had to glance at them like he always sideyed your breasts. Heat pooled at your core and you felt even more tight in your skin.
Then Prince Aegon spoke louder, making sure you heard him as well. You were used to him being a drunkard prone to raunchy discussions, and tonight was no exception.
Throughout the years, he often invited you to join him in his chambers, his carriage, even a privy of all places once, but you never agreed. Aemond punched him once, when his brother dared ask in front of him, with wandering hands to top it all off. After that, you always hid a dagger in your sleeve, hoping you would never have to use it on a prince of the crown.
“Seriously, I’m proud of you, brother. It only took you 10 years to get her.”
“You drank too much, Aegon. You should retire,” simply retorted Aemond, sipping his wine.
“To be fair, it was I who did all the work, my prince,” you jested innocently. Your prince squeezed your hand and looked at you, but it was too late. You gave his brother enough ammunition.
“Really, you did all the work? Please tell me more, y/n. I do love a woman on top– ”
Aemond banged his cup on the table and stood up in a flash. Still holding your hand, he spoke before you could come up with an even vulgar answer. “Mother, Father, my lord Hand,” he bowed his head to them before he turned to you. “I’m retiring for the evening. May I escort you back to your chambers, lady Strong?”
You had not yet properly answered that he yanked on your arm and whisked you away.
You walked through the hallways at a steady pace. The day was finally over and nothing more was expected from you both. No duties to the crown, no jewelry fitting, nothing. And frankly, you were eager to get away from everyone.
“Follow us and I’ll have your heads mounted on spikes.” Aemond snarled through clenched teeth at the guards who went after you. They turned around immediately and scattered.
Aemond half-mumbled half-cursed something resembling “Can’t be alone for one minute in this damn castle” as you snorted in a very unladylike manner.
“Want me to put on my nightgown?” You asked, desperate to cheer him up.
“We are not going to the library.” he simply stated.
You spied a wine jug in his hand. He nicked it from the diner table. You soon realized he was not taking you to your chambers or his either. He walked you to the gardens.
He dragged you far, up the hill, through the tall grass and close to a tall yew tree. It was your favorite spot, for it was far enough that nobody ever bothered you there. It was where he first kissed you when you were still a young girl.
“I want you now,” he urged, pushing you against a nearby mossy stone wall, tugging up the hem of your dress without a preamble. He shoved his face in your bosom and licked the valley between your breasts. Your hands went straight to his neck, weaving your fingers through his silky hair shining bright in the moonlight.
Even though you were better than Aemond at hiding your desperation, it did not change the fact that you were a wanton mess at that moment.
You were dripping wet, even feeling it down your trembling thighs. It was a miracle it did not show on your dress after hours of tensely sitting down during dinner, looking at his fingers and imagining all sorts of things.
One of his hands found its way up your thighs and brushed the apex of your sex, briefly playing with your clit before he pushed past your fold with two of his fingers. You gasped, head falling back against the wall.
“Hm… desperate too?” he murmured in your neck as his fingers went in and out of you with ease, finally taking care of that burdening itch. “I could slide right into you.”
“Yes… please…” you begged, squirming over his expert hand, your forehead buried in his neck. You grabbed his wrist and forced him to press harder, setting your nerves aflame. You whined, hearing the lewd sound of your drenched cunt with every stroke of his long fingers. He ground his hard length against your left thigh with the same pace.
Without notice, he cursed and pulled back his hand. Before you could protest, he grabbed the collar of the blue silk shift you wore underneath your bodice and tore it to free your shoulders and arms.
“If you tear up another of my shifts again, I am feeding you to your dragon, are we clear?”
“I’m getting you dressed with clasps.” he grunted.
He left an apologetic peck on your lips, then went to lick and bite everywhere from behind your ear to your shoulders while you shamelessly pawed at his hard cock through his trousers. He groaned and started fumbling with his belt. You left open mouth kisses to his marred cheek, drunk on his amber and sandalwood scent. You were rewarded with a faint whimper.
He finally freed his manhood, his trousers falling at his feet, still tucked in his boots. Unbothered, he reached underneath your skirt again and bunched up the fabric to your waist. He hooked an arm under each of your thighs and hoisted you up.
Oh gods. He meant it. He wanted you now. And he wanted you against this wall.
Your legs dangled on each side of him and you wrapped them around his hips at once. You hooked a finger in the leather band of his eye patch and yanked it off, wishing to see all of him. He flinched, surprised, but kissed you immediately after.
He nudged you at your entrance, coating his cock in your wetness, brushing your clit every time. “Hold onto my shoulders,” he mumbled in your mouth. You nodded and bit his lower lip in return.
All the tension since you got back to the Red Keep that morning, as you were deliberately kept apart, led to that very moment. You braced yourself and buried your face in his neck, for you knew this would be vigorous, feverish and unrestrained. And you did not want it any other way. You wanted to feel him.
He lined himself up and pushed into you, driving right to the hilt. Still gasping from the full impact of him, you could not breathe as he rocked his hips into yours at once. He covered your mouth with his, stealing away any and all sounds that fell from your lips.
He tore whimpers from you with every thrust. You already felt pleasure building deep in your belly. Your hands roamed his shoulders and neck, desperately trying to feel him through his damn collared leather clad tunic.
He grunted and groaned while you made high pitched sounds, stars flashing behind your eyes. He slammed into you at a torturous pace, so deep his pelvis brushed against your most sensitive part.
“Don’t stop,” you wailed in his ear and he hiked you up higher against the wall. His fingers dug into your plump flesh and you knew you would be bruised in the morning. This new angle had your body spasming and clenching around him. He suddenly hit that spot within you. Every. Single. Time.
Trapped between the wall and his body, you had no choice but to take it. And you loved every second of that feeling.
He pressed even closer to you, desperate to fit all of him in you, his aching balls slapping your cunt every time. He moaned your name loudly and sloppily kissed the side of your open mouth.
His rhythm started to falter. He was close too. You let out a strangled noise and his face fell down into your cleavage.
“More…” you pleaded. “I need more…”
One of his hands let go of your thighs and snaked between your two bodies. You felt his calloused fingers squirm their way to your cunt and you whimpered when he started circling your clit slowly, a stark contrast with the steady pace of his hips.
Your eyes rolled back and with a few more hard thrust, he pushed you over the edge. You jolted in his arms, arching your back as your vision blacked out. Hands clawing at his shoulders and pulling at his hair, you cried out his name as your orgasm ripped through you, waves after waves of pleasure crashing onto you again and again as he kept pumping.
You squeezed him so tight he followed you short after, plunging as deep as he could, groaning your name loudly against your bosom and filling you up with his hot seed. You cried out again as he pulsed inside you, his hips still snapping at yours erratically while he shuddered from his high.
He finally cooled down, completely out of breath. You were shivering hard, head back against the wall, eyes closed, overpowered by this intense moment you just shared.
He gently pulled out, leaving you with a strange feeling of emptiness, his seed trickling down your inner thigh. When he let go of your legs, you nearly collapsed. They so much as buckled under your weight. He untangled himself from his trousers and boots and laid down half naked in the tall grass with you.
You stayed there a long time, savoring this quiet interlude away from the rest of the world, sipping wine while basking in the moonlight. The warm summer air blew the wispy hair around your face. You listened to the waves crashing on the rocks by the coast. The trees made their own music with each gust of wind. Faint clather came from the Red Keep in the distance…. It was a beautiful cloudless night, and you gazed at the stars.
True to himself, Aemond kept quiet. Except this time, you did not need any words to know how he felt. He was half sprawled on top of you, his head resting on your bosom, bobbing up and down as you catched your breath still.
He turned to you. “Was I too rough?”
“Did you hear me complain?” you asked back.
He hummed and laid his head down again on your breast. It was different from your first time, but in the most exhilarating way.
You slowly brushed his long hair cascading on his back while he traced figures on your arm and chest, leaving patterns in the pearling sweat. He loved doing that, it seemed. Every time, goosebumps rose everywhere.
“I thought of taking you in this garden so often,” he confessed before he took another sip of wine from the jug and handed it to you. “But I never imagined it this way.”
“What did you imagine? Midnight swim in the pond?”
He grinned. “The lords love to piss in that pond when they are drunk, so no.”
He turned his head and looked at you, his gaze positively burning. You felt something awaking in your belly again. You nodded at his silent request and let him guide you through his vision.
He rose, took off the last piece of clothing he still wore— his leathered tunic— and laid it down on the tall grass. He made you sit so he could take off your skirt. When you reached for the laces, he grabbed your hand and shook his head.
He wanted to do it himself. You obliged.
You squirmed out of your skirt but did not attempt to do anything else. He unbuttoned your bodice, discarded what remained of your blue silk shift and he folded it all into a makeshift cushion. He gently pushed your bare back down on his still warm tunic, your folded dress under your backside, propping you up a little. Your breasts pebbled as the chill air from the coast blew. He slowly climbed on top of you, kissing you, caressing every inch of your skin, his hard cock pressing at your core again.
When he took you against the wall, it was needy. It was rough. It was an itch that desperately needed to be scratched. And it felt so good, you knew you would never forget it. But what Aemond truly wanted was to make love to you in this garden.
No frivolities. Just you. Just him. No titles, no pressure and nobody else around.
Propped up on one elbow beside your face, his hand went to hold the nape of your neck while the other brushed your still sensitive clit, awaking all your senses and having you sighing already. He kept going, but you wished for more.
“Please, I just want to feel you,” you pleaded, and he did not fret. Holding onto one of your thighs, he went in slowly. He looked upon your face to see it change with every inch while he easily slid himself in you, still wet from both your releases. You liked the stretch. You liked when he reached deep and took your breath away.
He paused to let you adjust and you smiled at him, eyes half closed. He kissed you slowly too, his tongue caressing yours. You melted in his embrace, his breath stuttering against your neck. He kissed your shoulder while you were momentarily lost in all the sensations.
Aemond had his issues. He had his temper, but when he let his soft side come out just for you, you could not help but get emotional.
His lips brushed yours before his head rested in the crook of your neck, his breath fanning your skin, biting and licking your shoulder. You bent your knees on either side of him for better traction and you rocked your hips against his so he knew he could move.
He grabbed your hip to refrain you from moving. Then his hands reached for yours and he laced your fingers, bringing them beside your head. You felt his heart beating fast against your own skin.
Then he moved. Slowly.
You enjoyed jesting and teasing him, to talk big like you were in absolute control all the time, but for once, you were the silent one. You felt so vulnerable. You half-panted half-sobed in his arms, tears forming in the corner of your eyes as he slid in and out of you without hurry. So calmly. So softly.
It was measured and unhurried. Completely overpowering. Every thrust was long and perfect, continually stroking that spot within you. His hair fell all over you and you inhaled his intoxicating amber and sandalwood scent.
He pulled you apart completely. You felt yourself break, overwhelmed by your feelings and every nerve in your body set ablaze by this agonizingly gentle rhythm.
He was yours. Aemond was yours, as much as you were his. After years of longing, you got to have him.
Feeling your shaky breath, Aemond cursed and let go of your hands. He held you even closer, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, making sure you were alright.
“I love you”, you only whispered back, your fingers brushing his scarred cheek.
He groaned and picked up the pace, grasping at your thighs, your waist. You left kisses in his neck, hands splayed on his shoulder and lower back, feeling his muscles flex. Whining loudly, you neared your peak and you knew this one would shatter you in a million pieces.
With the night sky above, you were already looking at the stars… yet he made you see more. So many more.
The following days
Reader
The Queen tried to chaperone you but it was a losing battle. You manage to escape her and her guards' notice every time. Highly annoyed, Aemond even tried to reason with her, saying you spent every day of the last 10 years together without any need for a chaperone.
“You are betrothed now, it would not be proper.” she explained. You laughed uncontrollably, while Aemond looked impossibly bewildered. You recalled him saying these exact words multiple times to you… before he essentially ravished you somewhere in the Stormlands. Oh how he seemed more laxed with the notion of propriety. What a terrible influence, you were.
Lately, you were constantly swarmed with people asking what flowers you wanted for the wedding ceremony, what kind of meal you desired for the feast or which fabric you preferred for your dress. You only cared that your dress was blue with elements recalling the Targaryen dynasty and your Riverland heritage. “With clasps”, you insisted, since Aemond took the sordid habit of tearing up your clothes.
Your family confirmed that they would get to King's Landing in time for the feast and tourney held the day before the ceremony. You could not wait to see your older brother Harwin.
As you served as cupbearer during a council meeting one afternoon, you also learned that there was no news of your former betrothed. For all you knew, Luthor Tyrell did not know yet that his bride had been claimed by the second son of King Viserys.
And claimed you, he did.
Something magical happened in the gardens that night. Your first time was driven by undeniable lust. When he took you against the wall, it was a desperate need. But in the tall grass under the stars? It was pure love. Unconditional, indisputable and passionate love.
Nothing held you back. No guard to spy on you. No one to whisk you away from him. When your passion reached its limit, you screamed his name knowing absolutely no one would hear you but him. You had never felt so free and so loved.
Truth be told, you could not bear to spend time away from each other. You still trained in the morning. Although, you sometimes hid in the armory to indulge in a heated moment after, mostly involving you “yielding” and putting your smart mouth to good use. At midday, you shared a meal outside in the gardens. Which often resulted in Aemond feasting on… something else entirely. In the evening, you still took joy in reading in the library. Except showing up in your best nightgown became mandatory now. The room was always awfully cold… and so was the desk when Aemond would bend you over it and sink into you until pleasure won you over. He sure knew how to warm you up nicely and efficiently. Nobody ever tended to the fire in the library.
But mostly, when you asked to claim his nights, he took you very seriously. And Aemond Targaryen was a very dutiful man.
Every night, he bribed your guards, slipped in your chambers and climbed into your bed. Since your stay in the Stormlands, not a single night was spent without his strong arms holding you close and his scorching heat keeping you warm all through the night. Every morning, he left before the first light to be found “asleep” in his own chambers.
The more intimacy you shared, the more things you noticed he loved doing for you… or to you.
He loved burying his head in the crook of your neck to smell your heated skin… He loved the sounds you made when you fell apart on his tongue… He loved how you trashed and clawed at him when he did not slow down after you climaxed and overstimulated all your senses until you came a few more times, leaving you an utter breathless, babbling and squirming mess…
But more than anything, he loved caressing every part of your body he could reach after you made love. When you had no energy left and laid down in damp bed sheets, his hands would roam freely on your skin, drawing idle figures and waking every nerve in your body. He did it so often you found yourself daydreaming about his beautiful hands brushing your arms.
However much you liked it, you soon found out something was amiss.
Aemond wanted to train in hand-to-hand combat again. Your septa told you many times over how “wildly inappropriate” it was, but you did not care as it often resulted in one of you sitting on the other’s lap. You sometimes felt the envious gaze of other knights standing around, but paid no mind. Aemond, on the other hand, minded with every fiber of his being. He was very protective of you, even more so since you were his.
Still, hand-to-hand combat was fun, but you loved sparring with swords and daggers too much. You insisted on it that morning in fact. You did not know why, but your prince was not quite himself. He went easy on you, whereas he showed you no mercy usually.
“Bit tired, my prince? Didn’t get enough sleep last night?” you quipped, trying to rile him up. You had, in fact, kept him quite busy.
You heard a few giggles coming from the knights nearby and Aemond scowled at them. He threw another limp jab at your left with his sword and you knew something was bothering him. There was always something when he kept silent like that. “Attack me, Aemond!”
He exhaled, spinning the handle of his sword in his hand. He seemed to regain his usual strength. His sword came down hard on yours. You dodged and danced, trying to get to his blindside, but he would turn around and stop your blow in a loud clang of steel.
You tried again and this time, you felt his sword slicing into your forearm, though your training gear. You winced at the hot white pain that shot through you, tears welling up in your eyes instantly.
His sword went flying to the ground. He was all over you, holding your arm and putting pressure on the wound, making you cry out at the instant jolt of pain. He ordered Sir Cristen to go fetch Maester Mellos immediately whilst he took you to the armory. Aemond got everybody out and made you sit on a large wooden table right before he settled on a bench in front of you. He did not say a single thing during the whole process.
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” you reassured him, your other hand coming to brush some of his hair away from his face. He unbuttoned your tunic before you could say anything else. He tore up the sleeve of the white shift you had underneath to both see the wound and somewhat preserve your modesty.
“Aemond! You owe me three shirts now!” You reproached him, annoyed yet amused, trying to calm him down but he looked absolutely panicked. “I swear I’m okay–”
“I'm so deeply sorry. Please forgive me,” he begged, using the remains of your sleeve to soak up the blood.
“It’s just a cut, it’s not even that ba–”
“No it’s not!” he insisted.
He would not look you in the eyes. He only ever looked at your forearm bleeding through the cloth.
“Why? What do you mean?” Were you missing something? You grabbed both his arms but he untangled himself immediately and put pressure on your wound again.
“Your arms,” he blurted out, mortified.
You observed the bloodied cloth. Well, it was indeed a deep cut. Not the worst you have ever had, but nothing that would kill you before sundown. “I mean, yes I’ll probably have to get it sewn but it’s not life threatening. It’s almost not bleeding anymore.”
He hummed low, as if it was somehow an answer.
“I have been training with the sword almost everyday for years with you, of course I’m bound to have some scars to show for it.”
Then you get it. The scars.
You had small scars everywhere. Scars he gave you. They are not very visible but if someone were to see you up close— naked, for instance— of course they would notice. It dawned on you that when he traced figures on your arms, he was focusing on every little scar under the pad of his fingers. You thought he simply liked seeing the goosebumps spreading on your skin.
“Do you resent me for it?” he asked seriously.
Everything snapped into place in your head. He feared you held a grudge against him, like the one he held still against Prince Lucerys. It occurred to you that he probably hated himself for it everytime he laid his eye upon them.
“Have I ever given you that impression?” you asked, guiding his answer.
He stayed silent, but you now worried it was out of embarrassment.
“I hold you no grudges, I just don’t care, Aemond,” you comforted him, caressing his cheek. He hummed again but did not say anything else. You got down from the table and embraced him. His fingers traced a small line on your shoulder.
It must have been difficult for him to even comprehend how you could possibly not care. Not when all his life revolved around one scar on his face. He regained his voice after a while.
“I just hate that I gave them to you.”
“You act as if the line across your left ribs isn’t from one of my daggers. Do you resent me for it?”
“...No.” he admitted.
“Because you know I would never hurt you intentionally. Same for you with me.”
Maester Mellos indeed confirmed it was not a bad cut. Aemond insisted on sewing it himself anyway, always making sure the pain was bearable as you refused milk of the poppy for such a minor affliction. As with everything that Aemond did, he was very meticulous and precise. Nothing short of perfect. He had practice, after all.
Since Drifmark, Aemond refused to let anyone tend to his wounds but himself. You knew he resented Prince Lucerys for his eye, but the tension between families made him believe Lord Corly’s maester purposefully sewed the wound badly. The long jagged scar forever a bitter reminder of the cost of claiming the biggest dragon in the world.
Aemond insisted you rested for the rest of the day, which was ludicrous. You however agreed to go hide in the garden to read all day in the tall grass. He even stole candied plums from the kitchen for the occasion.
Five days before
Reader
Someone must have spied on you being improper because double the guards– the Queen’s guards– suddenly followed you around. As you trained. As you walked in the garden. Even as you read in the library.
It was not as much of a problem in the afternoon since it was the only time you spent apart and guards strangely left you alone. Aemond had his duties to the crown and his dragon to tend to. You still had lessons with your septa or you helped the realm by serving wine to a council made entirely out of rich men who appeared to care only for their own rich men’s needs. You thought they only came for the fine dornish wine you served, at one point. Still no news of your betrothed for a day, Luthor Tyrell, as well.
You spent time with Princess Helaena as well. More and more each day lately. She was in fact a very charming and helpful person. Aemond usually found you in her company when he fetched you later in the afternoons.
But the guards following you around were getting on his last nerve. That evening, in the library, they stood tall at the entrance. They looked away from you since, again, you were dressed very inappropriately, only sporting your blue silk nightgown adorned with pearls and silver beads as well as the necklace Aemond gave you long ago.
“100 gold dragons for each of you if you leave my betrothed and I alone until the wedding and not tell my mother.” Aemond snapped. The guards exchanged a quick look, bowed and left.
“They were only here to make sure we act properly before the wedding. I’m positively baffled you dismissed them. It is most improper. I’m afraid I’m a terrible influence, my prince.”
“I just want to be alone with you, like we always have been in here. Is it too much to ask? And I have to read these, as a matter of fact.” he complained, pointing at various scrolls and books in front of him.
While he went through an impressive pile of scrolls, you read a book Halaena recommended to you and scribbled away on your papers. You had indeed something important to read too… but you were distracted.
So distracted.
You spied his fingers thrumming in a steady beat on the desk. His perfect hands grazed his parchment, letting it fall on the desk while he grabbed a quill to strike down a note. The pad of his index finger then wandered on the words of an ancient book, gliding smoothly across the paper. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter as you imagined these fingers on you. Or in you.
Lost in your fantasies, you jumped when one of his fingers unexpectedly pointed at you.
“Why are you always looking at my hands?” inquired Aemond, his eye narrowing, ever the suspicious mind.
“What could you possibly mean?” you say, shifting in your seat, putting your quill down and opening a book on the fauna of Westeros’s southern lands. His eyes bored intensely into yours, a smirk on his lips.
…and your attention strayed again.
He stroked the binding of his book with the back of his hand. Then he traced idle figures on the cover. He pinched a corner and small veins popped out as his fingers flexed.
“You say I not so subtly ogle at your bosom, but you staring at my hands this very moment is on the verge of being outrageous, my lady.”
“I won’t apologize,” you answered, standing up and closing your book. He stood too. What a proper gentleman, so well mannered. You walked around the desk and stopped before him. “You have beautiful hands.”
He watched studiously as you grabbed his right hand. You held it gently, caressing the back with your thumb. He mirrored you and you watched his veins and nerves come into sight as he flexed his thumb, caressing your palm in return.
“I think you lust after my hands,” he murmured.
You brought it to your lips and started kissing every knuckles… while your other hand grabbed the belt of your nightgown. “Mayhaps I do…���
A muscle twitched in his jaw. He looked down as you fumbled with your garment, then glanced around nervously, making sure there were no other witnesses.
Under his burning gaze, you slowly parted the silky fabric and revealed your naked form to him. You stopped kissing his fingers and brought them to your breasts. He squeezed the plump flesh instinctively. You sighed quietly.
Then you guided his hand down your torso. He exhaled loudly.
Next, you tugged his hand down to your belly. He felt goosebumps rising on your skin.
At last, you brought his fingers to your wet folds and he immediately pushed you backward until you were pinned against a bookshelf. You gasped as your back crashed against the old books and dust fell on you.
He captured your lips before you could make more noise. You gripped his broad shoulders while he pressed his whole body to yours. His fingers already going in and out of you, his thumb gently circled your twitching bud while you mewled in his ear.
He grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck and tugged it back to have better access. He kissed and licked your skin like a starved man while your hips rocked on their own. You ground into his hand, seeking more friction. He pushed down the heel of it and upped the speed, the wet sounds of your cunt echoing through the room.
His fingers were merciless as he took you higher and higher, savoring the sight of your face scrunched up in pleasure.
“Were you imagining my hands when you touched yourself at night?” he breathed arrogantly in your ear.
“Every time,” you panted.
“Good,” he said. Then his eye darkened as he whispered in your open mouth: “I won’t stop until your legs shake.”
Oh gods.
He grabbed your neck and squeezed it gently to keep you in place. He felt your walls throbbing around his fingers, your slick soaking his hand and your thighs. You were close and Aemond held your gaze until your eyes rolled back in your head. Your muscles wound tighter and tighter until you cried out as your climax hit you like wildfire, burning through your veins and ravaging your every limbs.
You curled your fingers tight into his tunic and groaned helplessly against his chest. Your thighs clenched on his hand as though you were trapping it against your cunt.
He fucked you through your orgasm with his fine fingers as you whole body convulsed uncontrollably. Face flushing, back arching, you braced yourself on his shoulder as you slowly came down from your high.
But he did not falter.
He kept going, ruthlessly pleasuring you and bringing you right back to the edge, your feverish moans music to his ears.
Keening in his tight embrace, you bit your bottom lip to stop you from wailing even louder when another climax hit you like a lightning strike. You were overwhelmed, kept mindless with ecstasy from his fingers still plunging into your cunt.
Aemond loved to see you come, whether it was on his hand, his tongue or his cock. Seeing you enjoy his body and praising his every move was what kept him going everytime. And he knew you could take it.
Amidst the euphoria, his lips crashed onto yours and coaxed fiery kisses from you. You writhed against his strong body, shuddering painfully and almost trying to twist yourself away as he drew yet another release out of you.
Barely breathing, practically weeping, the overstimulation left you a twitching mess when he finally slowed down his assault on your cunt.
When the pleasure finally faded, you collapsed on him, your body ridiculously limp. You felt him gently pulling his fingers out of your soaked core, and could not help the high-pitched sound that got drawn out of your mouth. He held you up in his arms while your whole body quivered still, kissing you everywhere on your face.
“How d’you like my hands just now, hm?” he asked pretentiously.
Unable to form complete sentences yet, you grabbed his prodigious hand and brought it to your lips as an answer. Astonished, he watched you lick his fingers clean before you kissed him so he could taste you on your lips.
“Your turn,” you hushed.
You grabbed his belt. You needed him in your mouth. You needed him now. You wanted to swallow all of him until his long shaft hit the back of your throat and—
« Prince Aemond?” a shaky voice resounded at the entrance of the library. You both froze into place, Aemond’s hands braced on the bookshelf while you were on your knees, fingers wrapped around his hard—
“I– I am here on your mother the Q—Queen’s behalf. You are needed in the c– council chamber.”
Clearly hearing you both panting, the poor valet waited in front of the door, eyes glued on the ceiling. You were mortified.
Aemond snarled when you let go of him. You stood up while he adjusted himself in his trousers as best as he could. He kissed your forehead before he left. You all but covered yourself and ran to your chambers, wholly embarrassed.
At least, when he joined you later that night, you picked up where you left off.
You were solicited more and more everyday regarding the upcoming wedding. Your dress was almost finished, decorations and tables were laid in the great hall, wedding gifts came in from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet something casted a shadow on the merriment.
You knew the lords, ladies, knights and servants of the court always addressed Aemond with the respect a prince is entitled to… but the snickers and the whispers always followed him everywhere. And now they followed you as well.
You were a curiosity. It was strange, considering they saw you together a thousand times before, since you were children. Yet every time you two appeared in public, whether at a feast or in the hallways, you heard the chatter. You heard the jeers. Had they nothing better to do?
One evening, you stopped to greet Lady Beesbury, one of the few ladies you actually enjoyed the company of. You asked how married life treated her. She replied quickly, her gaze darting to Aemond constantly. She left before you could ask any more questions. Aemond pulled your arm and encouraged you to keep walking.
Not quickly enough, for you had time to hear another lady whisper: “Why him? Do you think she’s with child? Poor girl.”
You were astounded. The allegations against your virtue did not bother you in the least, but that being betrothed to Aemond inspired pity? Absolutely preposterous. No one could ever make you feel bad about your betrothed. Furthermore, your dresses were so tight to begin with, where could you possibly be hiding a pregnant belly?
You diffused the tension by addressing Lady Beesbury’s behavior. “Does she think I’m too important for her now that we are betrothed?”
“She was afraid of me. She wanted to get away,” Aemond said quietly, his face unreadable. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you ever apologize for simply being you. She is a bad mannered cunt. How could people act like that around you?” you retorted, outraged at her behavior.
“I’m used to it.” he answered, and it hurt to hear.
“Well they can go fuck themselves on spikes at the front gate, for all I care.” you muttered under your breath. He hummed when you expected a chuckle. He usually enjoyed it when you swore like a bravosi sealord.
Aemond
You walked in the gardens, fleeing the people. Aemond did not fear many things in life, but this, this whole interaction, was exactly what scared him the most. You told him that you did not care about the court gossip, the looks, the fake conversations. But in all seriousness, how could you not care?
“Why him? Do you think she’s with child? Poor girl.” one of the ladies had uttered to another. Aemond hoped with all his heart you did not hear that.
All these people made his life so miserable for years. How could you possibly want to share the burden? To be a target just as much as him? Aemond had agreed to let you in, to let go of his apprehensions and just give in to you. Yet a snarky voice in his head kept saying:
She could change her mind.
It was why he insisted on having the wedding ceremony a fortnight later. At least, it prevented too many people from attending the festivities. Less chances of having second thoughts.
Some part of him flinched at how dishonest it sounded. Like he was tricking you into marriage. But he never wished for something so ardently before in his life. Well, possibly as much as wished for a dragon.
It is not like he was ever worthy of you. A prince, sure he was, but merely a second son with no hope of ever reaching the throne. Or any throne, for that matter. Aegon would get the Hightower family seat with Daeron at his side. Helaena would go wherever the most advantageous marriage would provide her with a castle. Aemond would be left with being a war commander, mayhaps. Probably.
Moreover, he was a damn cripple.
At least, you assured him you did not mind the scars he gave you. The shock when he first saw them at the inn, dozens of small little cuts scattered out across your perfect silky skin. He loathed himself for days after that. And you miraculously held no grudges. How? It seemed so simple.
You both skipped the library and spent the night flying around the city on Vaghar instead. Away from the crowds, he let you ride in front of him this time, his hands roaming freely.
The peace was short however, for that was the moment everything turned into a mess.
A day before
Reader
Your wedding celebrations consisted of a series of events on a two day span. First, a tourney in your honor, then a feast to celebrate the winner. On the second day was the actual ceremony in the eyes of the Seven at the Great Sept of Baelor and a wedding feast.
To everyone’s surprise, large banners flaunting the Tyrell sigil arrived in Kings Landing that morning. Luthor Tyrell and his entourage showed up for the festivities.
The first things he requested upon his arrival were water for his horse and a private audience with you.
Unluckily, you were already at the jousting grounds. Your family had arrived the day prior, and you wanted to spend time with them.
From Dragonstone came Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon and all of Aemond’s nephews and nieces. But most importantly, with them came your brother Harwin.
As the eldest son and heir of House Strong, he represented your family in the tourney and you had to make him promise not to die hours before your wedding. In no way did you doubt his abilities, but he was your dear brother and you missed him terribly already.
Aemond followed you around but kept relatively quiet. None of them felt comfortable enough to talk extensively if you were not the one driving the conversation. Harwin tried to be the bigger person and asked your prince about his sword masterful crafting. Aemond praised the castle’s blacksmith and complimented your brother’s armor. You had no expectations to begin with, but the small conversation filled you with hope. Aemond certainly tried hard for you.
It almost made you forget how much you hated tourneys. First, women were not allowed to enter. Since you were better than some of the men participating, you thought it was profoundly ridiculous. Secondly, men died in gruesome ways in these tourneys. But mostly, it lasted hours.
This tourney, however, was held in your honor. For once, your betrothed was celebrated rather than feared. He proudly sat beside you in the royal dais, along both of your families. Everyone looked at you and you felt a little intimidated. You watched as every participant stood in line and bowed. First, there would be sword fighting. Harwin would compete in this portion.
Your father leaned between Aemond and you and said “The first lord on the left is Luthor Tyrell. He arrived unannounced earlier this morning.”
Aemond hummed and stared at him. Studied him. Dissected his every move.
Luthor Tyrell beat every lord that came his way. He was truly impressive, even if you noted some weaknesses. He did not guard his left side enough, he underestimated smaller opponents and took a couple blows in the ribs. Ultimately, your brother Harwin all but smashed his shield in half and pinned him down in the dirt. Bested, Luthor yielded and Harwin won. Aemond smirked at the sight and, to your surprise, applauded your brother.
Then the joust followed.
You finally had a closer look at your former betrothed. He was indeed a handsome young man, a couple years older than you at least. He was tall. He had tousled light brown hair, pale blue eyes and perfect teeth. He looked exactly like you imagined. You knew why your father chose him in the first place. He was the perfect young lord and heir of the Reach.
And he was approaching you, tall on his white horse, holding a lance.
“Your graces,” he beamed, bowing to the royal family. “My lady Strong, let me introduce myself. Sir Luthor Tyrell. I now see that you are indeed the fair maiden my father described you to be. I come to ask for your favor. It would be a small kindness since our betrothal fell through, don’t you agree my lady?”
The whole crowd seemed to go wild with chatter. Aemond, quietly seething by your side, was astonished by the man’s audacity. As much as you did not want to give it to him, withholding your favor is considered extremely rude. Ladies of the court are basically forced to give them to whoever dares ask.
You stood up, grabbed your small wreath of blue ribbons and let it fall down his lance. He thanked you and went to stand on the left side of the jousting grounds.
“Cunt.” Aemond uttered hoarsely. You tittered, grabbing his hand.
The crowd fervently cheered and cheered as Luthor won every round. He had perfect technique. To Aemond’s displeasure, he knocked the last knight to the ground, and won the tourney.
Luthor bowed as Aemond handed him a dragon shaped trophy made out of pure gold. When you congratulated him, he turned to you.
“It was indisputably your favors that got me through this tournament, my lady Strong. Faith knows best, as I often say.” he bowed and kissed your hand under Aemond's watchful eye.
You could not quite put your finger on it, but every time that man opened his mouth, something felt odd.
Soon enough, everybody gathered in the great hall for the feast. Aemond usually loathed these kinds of events but attended anyway, for his family’s sake and yours. He made small talk with lords and ladies but you knew he hated every second of it. Especially since the talk of the town was your former betrothed showing up and winning the tourney held in your honor. The very feast you attended now celebrated his victory.
You made it your mission to distract Aemond all night. Your hands would wander when you danced. You would whisper filthy promises involving your wedding night. You ate fruits in a suggestive manner when no one but him looked.
“Behave, y/n.” he murmured, sliding his hand to your inner thigh under the table. “Or I’ll make you.”
His “threats” usually did nothing to calm you down, though.
All was well… that is, until Luthor Tyrell approached the royal table and went straight to you.
“Your graces,” he enthused, addressing the most important people in the Seven Kingdoms before his eyes fell on you again. “May I offer my congratulations on your imminent union. Our paths unfortunately crossed briefly in the grand scheme of things, but would you consider giving one dance to a poor jilted lord, my lady?”
You felt Aemond stiffen beside you. He stared at you, curious to see if you were considering it. Even if you were betrothed to a prince, you had to accept. Now was not the time to ruin political alliances over a dance. As much as he hated it, Aemond knew that. You squeezed his hand still gripping your inner thigh, asking him to let go of you. He did, reluctantly.
Unsurprisingly, Luthor Tyrell was a fine dancer. The man really was perfect. He smiled and greeted every lord who crossed your path and complimented you on everything, from your dress to the flowers in your hair. Then he asked about your family’s well being. Your lands, your court. He talked of how much of a catch you were.
You knew you had a substantial dowry, but you had no claim to anything else. Luthor went on, praising how Harrenhall was the only castle that matched his equally grand castle at Highgarden.
You started to feel unsure about where this conversation was going.
“Highgarden sounds wonderful, my lord.” you commented casually.
“It is. Certainly better than King’s Landing, if I may say so… The only thing it is missing is a lady, actually.”, he flirted, startling you. “Lady Strong, I hope you will forgive my boldness, but I cannot simply watch you wasting away your life chained to this court.”
“I beg your pardon, my lord?”
Shocked was the word.
“What does the prince have to offer you? I would give you the Reach, my lady. I’m an heir to my father’s title. I’m offering you a comfortable life in a better castle with extensive gardens, lands stretching to deep turquoise waters, armies to keep you safe from our enemies. I’m offering myself to you as well. I’m a skilled warrior, obviously, but also a dancer, a poet and a musician. Furthermore, I’m told I’m unmatched when it comes to… pleasuring a lady.” he bragged shamelessly, his hand pressing the small of your waist.
You felt sick to your stomach. “This is how you court ladies, Lord Tyrell? On the eve of their wedding, talking about the women you bedded before?”
“I’m sure the prince can be a charming person despite his… interesting appearance, but you shouldn’t throw your beauty and life away for a man like that. I have it all. Wealth, a castle, lands… eyes.”
And there it was. A beautiful face hiding the most disgusting man you had ever had the displeasure of encountering.
Pulling away, you declared: “I’m not quite well, my lord, please excuse me.” You could not bear to spend one second more in company of this horrible excuse of a man.
“The song is not finished my lady, it would be rude to leave.” he urged with a big smile but a menacing tone.
From the beginning, this man used bigoted social conventions to coax you into giving him your favor at the tourney, dancing with him at this ball and now holding you hostage until the musicians ended their song.
Well, fuck courtesy. To the seven hells with propriety. Abandoning him in front of the whole court seemed like the perfect thing to do.
You pulled away again, but he grabbed your arm and forced you to stay with him.
Your reflexes from all your hand-to-hand combat lessons with Aemond kicked in and in one swift move, you were the one holding his arm at an odd angle. In your other hand, you held your dagger retrieved from your sleeve, pointing right at his left ribs. You had ample time to observe his weaknesses at the tourney, after all.
“You’ve come here under false pretenses, my lord. Leave for the Reach at first light and my father will never know the treasonous words you spoke here today or the real motive of your visit.” you threatened. He squirmed and you pushed your dagger a little more into his tunic, almost cutting through it. “That is all you will ever get from me. And from what I gather, you do not deserve this kindness.”
He stepped away from you and brushed his clothes with the back of his hand. He put on a smile. A smile you now knew was fake. Reeking of malignance, his last words were quiet so only you could hear them. “Enjoy being a cripple’s whore.”
And he left.
So perfect, so charming, you thought. And you almost married that perfidious swine, for gods’ sake.
You went to stand close to Aemond on the outskirts of the hall, seeking his ever calm and collected nature. By some miracle, he did not witness this mess. You knew that if he had, Luthor Tyrell would be a fuming pile of ashes by now. He deserved it, to be fair.
No, Aemond was simply exchanging some words with his older brother, already drunk on ale and wine.
You hooked your arm in his and rested your cheek against his shoulder, his warmth comforting you. You observed the lord and ladies dance, letting the merry mood seeping into you again, determined not to let an insignificant man’s words ruin your night.
You tugged on Aemond’s arm so he would turn to you, and you played your little game one last time. Being sneaky was no longer necessary, you thought.
You reached for his neck, tilted your head and kissed him quickly, in the middle of the great hall. Surprised, he looked around at all the people watching. You almost regretted it, remembering all too late how he hated being the center of attention… But he kissed you back regardless. He even lingered a bit longer before returning to his conversation with Prince Aegon.
It definitely cheered you up… for a time.
Shortly after this joyful moment, you overheard a conversation coming from the other side of the pillar beside you.
“Luthor Tyrell is so handsome. She turned him down for the one-eyed prince, can you believe it?” a lady blurted, and your eyes could not have rolled harder.
“The prince has no prospect, at least 10 people have to die for him to be on the throne. What a twat she is.” another lady added as you choke on your wine.
Aemond got somewhat used to the same comments throughout the years. But never had you heard things so mean said about you in such a short time.
“He scares me, frankly. Imagine him hovering over you in bed. So up close. Ugh, I couldn’t bear it.”
“I could ask my maid.” a third lady confided. “I know the prince seeks her out for a good fuck from time to time.”
“She would have been better off with one of the crowned princes.”
“She can’t marry one of them. They are her nephews!”
“Shhh, quiet! People have lost their head for saying that.”
Again, people slandered your brother, questioned his honor and speculated about him being the true father of the crown princes.
You realized Aemond was not talking with Prince Aegon anymore and listened to the same horrible conversation as you. He yanked on your arm and hauled you into the hallway before you could unleash your wrath on them.
You went to a balcony and breathed in the fresh air coming from the coast. It was a cloudless night again and the stars shined bright. The silence felt good.
You observed a bunch of lords walk drunkenly in the gardens only to stop in front of the pond to relieve themselves. These are the fine men presiding over this kingdom, you thought. Very distinguished, You thought. You promised yourself to never again fantasize about Aemond taking you amidst the beautiful water lilies.
“She had a point.” Aemond conceded, recalling the frightful gossip you heard.
“That was the most idiotic and insensitive conversation I’ve ever had the displeasure of eavesdropping.”
“Luthor Tyrell has everything. I have nothing to give you.” he uttered, sincerely.
“I have never heard so much nonsense. You have the biggest dragon in the fucking world, Aemond. Not that it matters anyway. You are enough. When have I asked for anything more?”
He opened his mouth but then pressed his lips in a thin line.
Now was not the time to be bereft of speech. “What is it?” you coaxed.
“This is what I meant… the mockery.”
“I can take it. I told you, I’m a strong lady.” you tried to jest, but it came out too abrasive.
“Your eyes are glassy.” Aemond stated.
“Yes, because the words were harsh, it caught me off guard!”
“It will never stop. I don’t want to see you tormented all the time.”
“I won’t have this conversation again.” you finished, pinching the bridge of your nose.
Aemond went mute once more, but you were used to it by now. Difficult conversation usually ended up in silence on his part, anyway. He always tiptoed around you, carefully choosing his words not to upset you. Admirable, yes, but insufferable sometimes. “My apologies, I didn't mean to sound harsh.” you spoke softly.
He hummed.
You went back to the ball and joined the royal family. The Queen and Princess Rhaenyra spoke with the King and Prince Daemon. Their children were dancing and enjoying their night.
Words from the ladies of the court about the crowned princes still floated around in your mind, though. It had for years, if you were honest with yourself. This is when you looked… Really looked…You watched… you observed… and finally…
…you believed it.
Aemond
The night was a disaster. After you went back to stand at the head of the royal table, Aemond noticed how quiet you were. And you were never quiet. Your eyes were locked on your brother. He drank wine and exchanged pleasantries with Jacaerys and Lucerys as young Joffrey looked bored. That is when you murmured to him:
“You were right…”
“As I so often am,” Aemond jested, trying to lighten the mood. “But what are you talking about, my love?”
You inhaled deeply. “They look like my brother… They look like me.”
“Y/n— »
“They took your eye for that, and you were speaking the truth. I’m so sorry, Aemond.”
He held you in his arms and felt somewhat conflicted. Years had passed, but one thing had remained. You were adamant in defending your brother. He could not blame you, he would have done the same for any of his siblings, even Aegon. Yet seeing you acknowledging the truth he dared spoke about his nephews– and cost him an eye– did not give him the satisfaction he thought he would get out of it. You fully believed him now, but the revelation was disconcerting nonetheless. You obviously felt guilty.
You asked to retire to your chambers. Half of the royal family had already left, anyway.
It was the only night Aemond had to sleep without you by his side. It was bad luck, his mother claimed. He kissed you goodnight after he walked you to your door.
But as he walked to his own chambers, he promptly turned around and went right back to you. He knew that tonight of all nights, you needed comfort. He needed to make sure you were alright. He needed to know if you were okay after your revelation about your brother… He needed to be certain the gossip did not affect you that much… He needed to be sure that Luthor Tyrell was not a threat with his perfect smile and all that.
He could not chase away the thought of you not showing up the following day, leaving him completely humiliated at the altar in the Great Sept of Baelor.
He knew you would never do this to him, but he thought about it nevertheless. The voice in his head repeated the vile words again. She could change her mind.
And here you were…
Aemond
You stood in front of him, wearing a hood and taking off like a thief in the night.
Aemond scrambled for his words, but you would listen to what he had to say, even if it resulted in you leaving him. “I knew it would be hard for you. I knew that people would be cruel and I warned you. But you convinced me that you didn’t care. You said that they could go fuck themselves on spikes at the front gate.”
You chuckled, but it only added to Aemond’s heartbreak.
“You promised me. You said that you wanted me. I told you I was yours. You promised.” he scowled.
He tried to say more but words would not come out. And he knew how you hated it when he kept silent but he feared he was about to say things he did not mean. Angry words cost him an eye once.
“You are everything to me. You are the strength I need to go on about my day. You are the courage I aspire to with your bold words and actions. You are the wisdom I seek when people of the court get on my last nerve… And the ladies were right. ‘Tis true. I don’t have a castle of my own. I don’t have lands. I don’t have armies or even a court that loves me. My father is King yet I don’t believe he ever cared enough about me to give me any of that. I have nothing to offer you but my complete devotion, but it is not enough, is it?”
By the time he finished, silent tears were falling down your cheeks.
“…You really think I’m leaving, don’t you?” you bemoaned.
The world stopped. He was still angry but his eye narrowed at you. “...are you not?”
“Seven fucking hells, Aemond,” you swore, wiping the tears off of your cheeks.
Aemond never felt so confused. Your words somewhat reassured him, but he needed confirmation in plain words regardless. “Just answer me. Are you leaving?”
Reader
“No, I’m not leaving!” You huffed, and you saw his shoulders relax, relieved from whatever was going on inside his head. You could not believe it. He still doubted you.
One of his hands fiddled at the lapels of your hood, silently asking what it was for. Well, at least, he saved you the trip to his chambers.
“We are leaving, actually.”
The clarity Aemond got for half a second was smothered into confusion again. You handed him a hood, took his hand and lured him to a hidden door on the back wall of your chambers.
He followed you in dark corridors littered with dirt and dead rat carcasses. You emerged behind a tapestry somewhere in the west wing.
“Do you mean to tell me I’ve been bribing the guards for the last two weeks when there was a door leading straight to your bed?”
“I didn’t know. My brother told me about it only yesterday.” Your chambers were Princess Rhaenyra’s, before she left for Dragonstone. Of course your brother would know of this passage, but Aemond refrained from commenting on it and you appreciated that.
You lead him through the mudgate. “Want to leave on an adventure at this hour? Are we eloping, my lady?” he asked, following you diligently all the way to the beach, near Vaghar’s nest.
He saw dragon keepers guarding her and a small gathering of people beside a fire. Instinctively, Aemond reached for his sword but you grabbed his hand before he could draw it.
Slowly he recognized some faces. Healena was there. Your brother Harwin too. You were sure that at this moment, Aemond’s mind was racing as he imagined a hundred wild scenarios involving his dear sister being secretly in love with the man too. The last man, Aemond did not know.
“Your grace, my lady.” he rejoiced, bowing.
You let go of his hand and took off your hood. He watched you grab the necklace in one of the pockets and put it on. Tendrils of your hair blew everywhere with the sea wind, almost like the flames of the grand fire burning beside you.
You reached again in your pockets and grabbed a crumpled paper… and a small blade of dragonglass.
It dawned on Aemond that…you were never running away.
This was a Valyrian wedding.
You beamed at him. He was silent but not by fear. He was truly and utterly in shock.
“I wouldn't have changed my mind. Not ever.” You said. “We would have waited a fortnight, two moons or twelve, that I wouldn’t have changed my mind. I want you. And you are enough. Take off your hood.”
“If you would please take place, facing each other, we will begin.”
Aemond appeared weary. You, on the other hand, had the brightest smile he had ever seen. He watched as you glanced down at the piece of paper and tried your best.
“Aemond… konīr issi daor isse iā Valyrīha dīn— dīnil— dīnilūks. Nyke sepār jeldan na— naejot urnēptre hen mirrī angotan.” you stammered. There are no vows in a Valyrian ceremony. I just wanted to show off a little bit.
His eye was the widest you had ever seen. He stared at you as if you were a goddess and you felt how much he loved you at this very moment.
“Avy jorrā— jorrāelan, se kesan sagon on— ondoso aōha paktot ēva aōha mōrī tubis”. I love you, and I will be by your side until your last day. “Well I hope that made sense, because it is all I could learn in a fortnight.”
Helaena clapped enthusiastically behind you. When you asked for her help, she spent every afternoon teaching you the basics before Aemond came to fetch you. She even gave you small assignments to do later in the library. For once, your septa approved of your doings.
You kept your eyes on him. He was still silent, but you knew it was because he was overwhelmed. He kept blinking, his eye getting red with emotion.
He reached for his eye patch and took it off, baring himself in front of you and the others. That in itself, meant the world to you.
You took the dragonglass and brought it slowly to his lip. You waited for some kind of reaction. It was the part you feared the most. Aemond had enough blades cutting his face for a lifetime and beyond. He nodded and you made a small cut in the middle of his bottom lip. Still looking at you, he frowned when you put the blade in his hand and waited for him to do the same to you.
“It’s okay,” you mouthed quietly. He raised his hand and made the smallest cut he could possibly make on your lower lip. Even if you were okay with the scars everywhere on your body, he obviously did not wish to add more.
You both traced the Valyrian symbols on your forehead. Aemond only looked away when he cut the palm of his hand and let you do the same.
He could not believe you were doing this. Just for him. He felt foolish for ever believing you would leave.
Holding each other's bloody hand, the priest went on with his ancient text. You could not decipher a single word for your life, but you knew the gist of it. When the priest stopped and backed off from the makeshift altar made of random rocks on the beach, you jumped forward, grabbed Aemond by the neck, and brought your lips to his in a fiery, bloody kiss. He circled his arms around you immediately and you felt his hands fondling your back and waist.
“I love you,” he whispered into your ear.
“Avy jorrāelan,” you answered back. “That was an easy one. It was about time I learned the language.”
After the secret ceremony, Aemond brought you to his chambers for the first time. He had already bribed the guards anyway. For once, you would be the one sneaking away to your chambers before sunrise. Or not, since you were legally lord husband and lady wife. In the old fate, anyway.
As soon as you entered, you inhaled profoundly. The whole room smelled of him, of his wonderful amber and sandalwood scent. An oil for his hair, apparently. You spied the bottle beside his looking glass.
There was a simple luxury to his chambers. A fire already burned brightly in the hearth. Gold details, flowy red curtains flanking his windows, shelves and shelves of books and a large wooden canopy bed covered in pillows and blankets.
He stripped down from his hood, sword and knife but your attention drifted elsewhere. You noticed something familiar. You went to his bed to have a better look at the torn piece of white linen fabric dangling from his headboard. It had little flowers embroidered on it.
“Is that…?”
“Yes. I kept it.” he confessed as you recognized the remains of your white shift. The one you thought he threw in the fire at the inn. “It smelled like you.” he explained, coming up to stand behind you.
He grabbed a strap from your dress and tugged it, the fabric making a small hesitating sound and you grabbed his hand immediately.
“Aemond Targaryen, if you rip my Valyrian wedding dress, I swear to the old gods and the new—”
He chuckled, but then delicately slid the straps down your shoulders. The dress fell down to the floor and pooled at your feet. You wore nothing underneath.
Towering over you, he guided you to his bed but you raised a hand to stop him.
“Hm hm, no. Take off your clothes first.” you demanded. Surprised, he smirked but agreed to your demand.
You were bold and daring in your everyday life, but when it came to your intimacy, you usually let Aemond have it his way. You loved surrendering all control and let him ravish you thoroughly, but that was not your plan for the night.
He would have the wedding night. You, however, would have this night.
While he unclasped his dark leathered tunic, you threw the pillows and blankets in front of the fire. Aemond kept undressing as you made a cozy little bed on the floor.
When you turned around, Aemond waited for you, stark naked, his manhood already hard, screaming to be taken care of by you. He approached you again, but you stopped him once more.
“No. This is my night.” you said. “Let me.”
You went to him, angled your head and captured his lips in one searing kiss. He hummed into your mouth while your hands freed his hair that was still tied at the back of his head.
“What? I can’t touch my wife?”
Now that formal title, he would use without jesting. You would insist on it.
His hands found your waist and you let him caress your shivering skin while you made him walk backwards to the makeshift mattress you built out of blankets.
He laid down slowly, looking up at you like you were a goddess. The fire crackled soundly in the stone fireplace, heating both your bodies. You straddled him, caressing his chest and relishing in the sight of him under you. His fingers thrummed on your thighs and you were distracted for a moment. He looked at you with a malicious smile. Damn him and his hands.
“No touching, husband. Not until you listen to me”
“Hm?”
He was aroused and confused, his cock keenly digging into your lower stomach. Unfortunately for him, you would make him wait a little more.
You desperately wanted to lay down on him. You wanted to feel his whole body under yours. You wanted to kiss him passionately while you rocked your hips. But what you wanted the most tonight, was to worship him. Aemond thought you were leaving him. He thought you would change your mind. He thought he was not enough.
You would prove him wrong.
You dragged him to a Valyrian wedding, for gods’ sake. The ceremony was secretly planned since you got back from the Stormlands. Your brother Harwin came from Dragonstone with the priest, even. You studied High Valyrian everyday, only practicing speech when tucked far away in the gardens with Princess Helaena.
“Nothing would have changed my mind, Aemond.”
You locked eyes for a moment. His gaze was burning, his eye darkening by the minute. He refrained from moving except for his damn fingers tracing idle figures on your thighs.
“I know that now.” he answered, trying to avoid the conversation by flexing his fingers on your legs and diverting your attention. He knew you well.
“If I have to tell you one more time that I’m serious when I say that I want you, Aemond Targaryen… I married you tonight, have I not?”
He nodded solemnly and you laid down on his chest to kiss him again. His lips were hot and soft, and he flinched as the small cut you made there cracked open. Your tongue flickered against his, slipping between his lips and tasting him eagerly. Your arms circled his head and tugged at the tie holding back his hair. It was wavy from the humid coastal air on the beach. You loved when that happened.
He rocked his hips into yours instinctively, but you stopped kissing him immediately. You shook your head. He nodded, understanding your silent demand.
Then you got off of him and he protested loudly.
“Where are you goin—” he began… except when he saw you pulling all your hair in a bunch with his hair tie, he kept silent again. That temper of his, sometimes.
He subtly moved one of his hands so it stayed limply against your leg. Like you would not notice him desperately trying to touch you.
You kneeled between his legs, braced yourself on his hips and kissed the tip of his cock. He gasped and closed his eye. You ran your tongue across the slit and his head instantly fell back into a pillow.
You rolled your tongue over his tip and sucked every drop of his seed that already pooled there. He hissed, fisting the blankets already.
You licked from the base and he throbbed against your tongue. Then he cursed as you took all of him in your mouth at once.
His tip bumped against the back of your throat. You tried your best not to gag as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. He raised his head to watch you. Not breaking eye contact, you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. He groaned every time the tip brushed the velvety walls of your throat.
You rubbed your thighs together, seeking any kind of friction to ease the pressure building in you. You circled your clit with one of your hands, even if it was still sore from the fresh cut during the ceremony. You moaned loudly and the vibrations had him whimpering.
His balls tightened, and release gathered in his spine. His hands went instinctively to your head, his fingers rummaging through your hair, pulling it when you swiftly quickened your pace. He shivered and you knew he was utterly at your mercy. He cried out and his grip tightened on your neck, forcing you to stop your sweet torture.
“This is a wedding night. If I come, it is between your legs, not in your mouth. Come here.” he demanded angrily, sitting and trying to grab you.
“No. You have done enough.” you stopped him, using his own words against him. You all but repeated what he told you at the inn during the storm. “You have been insufferable, my prince.”
You pushed him flat on his back without preamble, settled your hips over his, and slowly sank down onto his length. Inch by inch, your cunt swallowed him whole.
Eye wide, a plethora of curses fell from his mouth. He grabbed your hips to hold you still while you braced yourself on his chest, wincing a bit from the pain in your right hand’s palm. You panted already, the coil in your belly almost hurting, begging for release. But you looked him in the eye and made sure he understood you.
“You. Thought. I. Was. Leaving.” you said, rocking your hips with each of your words for emphasis. You ride him hard, taking no prisoners. Mayhaps it was the position, but you swore you never felt him this deep before. His mouth fell open at the overwhelming feeling and he growled.
“You. Are. Enough.” you sighed as his cock brushed your sweet spot repeatedly, his pelvis brushing against your clit as well. You arched your back, already feeling pleasure taking over you.
For a moment, neither of you uttered a single word. You noticed how the bandage around your hand came undone and how you smeared blood all over his chest.
Well, fire and blood, was it not?
His jaw clenched so tight his teeth grinded, his face scrunched as he neared his release. You were on the edge too but your leg muscles slowly gave out, screaming for mercy. Your rhythm faltered and you cursed yourself for skipping leg training during your hand-to-hand combat lessons. Your movement almost came to a halt when he decided to be an arsehole.
“You thought it would be easy to ride a dragon, my love?” he queried arrogantly.
Affronted, you tried to shut him up with a sharp thrust but your calves were no longer cooperating.
“Come here!” Aemond asked again, yanking on your arms so you end up splayed on his chest.
His arms crossed at your back to keep you in place. He looked into your loving eyes and you felt the air leaving your lungs as he began fucking up into you with strong, heavy thrusts. His embrace tightened more as you squirmed on his chest. He instilled a ferocious pace and you cried out as he took the lead, having you mewling in no time.
His hard cock slid against your sensitive wall, making your toes curl and legs quiver. Rubbing your plump breasts up against his chest, you circled his head with your arms, caging him in as your fingers were lost in a sea of silvery white hair.
His muscled arms were like iron around you. Your shaky legs tensed even more and squeezed around his hips while you praised him in his ear.
You did not mind if the whole castle heard you. You moaned as loud as you needed to while he kept thudding that perfect spot deep inside you. Every touch inflamed your very nerves and sparked pleasure through your every limbs.
He was already on edge before you took him inside you, so you noticed the signs of him starting to fall apart. You felt his heart beating wildly against yours, you felt his leg twitch despite the punishing rhythm of his hips having all your attention. Sweat pearled at his temples, tracking down his face and you did not hesitate to lick it all up.
“Don’t just hold me, touch me!” you begged.
“But you said not to, my love,” he teased you and you cursed his whole Targaryen ancestry. Vindictive prick.
“I said touch me!” You insisted, voluntarily contracting your inner muscles to squeeze him so hard he yelped loudly and saw stars momentarily.
One of his hands went to caress every inch of your back, sides and trembling thighs. He captured your lips and muffled your sobs as he battered into you still, gritting his teeth as you held on for dear life.
“Please!,” you pleaded, trying to pry yourself from his strong embrace, your body starting to spasm as you cried out with every thrust now. «Aemond!»
“I don’t want you begging, I want you screaming.”
Then the feeling started in your toes, burned through your thighs, your belly and your chest until your whole body combusted. You shivered and wailed as you reached your high, almost alarmed at the sheer force it hit you. Hot spasms of pleasure wracked through you, burning you up like wildfire, until your vision blacked out. You screamed his name, your whole body convulsing and shivering.
You collapsed on his chest and felt him kissing your neck. You whined as he rutted into you right through the remainder of your climax, slamming over and over again in your tightness, so tight he almost could not fill you anymore. You clenched around him like a vice, your walls gripping his cock so hard he believed you would swallow him.
He felt you pulsed and it was too much for him. His release had his whole body shuddering violently, muscles seizing up. His grip tightened even more and you knew you would have bruises all over your back and hips in the morning.
He buried his face in your neck, bellowing as he cummed hard. Warmth spread through your belly as he spilled into you, filling you deep, dripping out of you already.
You ground yourself into him, his twitching cock stroking your walls again, wishing to give him a taste of his own overstimulating ways. He whimpered, his face twisting in agonized pleasure, his hands darting to your hips, desperately trying to stop you from moving but you kept going. Four more thrusts and you went over the edge a second time.
Eyes closed, you slowly caught your breath. He kissed your neck and bit your ear. You moaned softly as he slid out of you. You still flinched and twitched as your nerves slowly settled down.
When you hoisted yourself up, you noticed the blood smears on his chest. In his hair too. On your bosom and hips as well. You could only imagine what your back looked like.
Both of your hands bled through the cloth covering them. You were not particularly fond of blood, but with the fire raging beside you, you thought the consummation of this Valyrian union could not have been any better.
“Husband,” you murmured.
“Wife,” he whispered back, smiling, looking at you like if you were a true Targaryen.
That night, you made love again. And again. And again.
Your absence at breakfast was noted. To say the Queen was shocked when she found you was an understatement. You were both naked and asleep in a bloodied mess of blankets and cushions in front of the fireplace. Visibly embarrassed, she looked away as you covered yourself.
She did not approve of you eloping and getting married in a faith that was not her own but understood nonetheless. At least, your virtue would never be questioned now, you thought to yourself, almost laughing.
She convinced you to clean up, get dressed and immediately go to your maids. The ceremony at the Great Sept of Baelor was mere hours away.
“I’ll fetch gloves to hide your hands.” she added, before she left Aemond’s chamber.
You were exhausted but there was indeed another ceremony to attend, another feast to endure and a private bedding to have– you both insisted on that one– in the eyes of the Seven, this time.
At long last, you were lord husband and lady wife.
But that was not all…
Your brother Harwin chose this moment to announce he gave up his title to stay as Lord Commander of Princess Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. Your father thought it was madness but it was Prince Daemon who had asked. There was apparently an understanding between the two men. Ultimately, your father agreed. You understood his reluctance. He spent his life grooming his eldest son to take his rightful place when the time came to it…
But so did he with you.
Your scholar of a father knew the importance of giving both his sons and daughter a thorough education.
He had you read books from a young age so you were knowledgeable and wise. He had you training in the yard with the boys so you would learn combat, strategy and to defend yourself without any man’s help. He had you live in King's Landing since you were ten of age so you would learn to navigate through high society…And he had you play cupbearer during council meetings so you would know what running a castle– even a kingdom– entailed.
Suddenly, you were the lady of Harrenhall.
Aemond Targaryen indeed had no castle of his own, no lands and no armies. So when all three came to you, you shared it all with him.
Before the moon turned, and without a second thought, Aemond packed his possessions and left the Red Keep with you on Vaghar’s back. He never looked back, for nobody at Harrenhal would dare speak ill of their Lady and her prince husband.
To your utmost delight, nothing really had to change. You could still train in the morning. You could still do your duties in the afternoon. And you could still spend your evenings in the library. It was your own small realm, with your own rules.
Aemond quickly found solace in his new life and even felt comfortable enough to discard his eye patch once and for all. One evening, you both sat on your balcony, one of Aemond’s hands splayed on your now swelling belly, and you admired the sunset above the calm waters of the Gods Eye. You silently enjoyed the peace and quiet.
You looked at him and with the brightest of smiles, you thought…
I can’t wait to give him the happy life he so deserves.
NEXT: Part 3 (Striving) or see is my Masterlist.
Thank you for reading!
The ending made me cry, not gonna lie. This is how I chose to fix Aemond’s tragic story. This is me trying to fix everything after I read the book lol
What a ride. I did not expect to write nearly 30k words total but hey. I needed it I guess. Poor Alicent, she can’t get a break. Always walking in on her sons being naked and improper 😂 Reader is a strong and daring lady so I injected a bit more girl power in this part. She even kidnapped him into marriage! And invited Vaghar to the ceremony even, what a sweetheart ❤️
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