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becomingmina · 3 months

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Mad - fluff and suggestive w/Chan. 18+ only mdni

Mad series is here 🤍

“Please! Can we go out?” You tugged at your boyfriend’s shirt.

You and Chan were tangled up on the couch on a Friday afternoon. When he had told you his afternoon was free you were quick to straddle his lap, begging for him to take you out. He laughs at your eagerness while he was laying on his back with one arm under his head, the other caressing your thigh.

“I have to wake up early tomorrow. Can’t we just stay home? We can play some games and order in,” he tried to convince you.

“But you’re finally free for the afternoon and we have like..” you counted your fingers “.. we have like 7 hours before you can wind down..” you begged with a pout.

“Or we can do something else for 7 hours baby,” he suggested with a smirk, inching his hand up higher on your thigh.

“But I got this pretty dress—” you huffed; you didn’t want to take no for an answer.

“—Then go out by yourself,” Chan sharply replied, removing his hand from you to join the other one under his head. You can tell he wasn’t serious evidently by his smile, but you were.

“Maybe I should.”

“Good.. I get to rest more without you on me,” he scoffed, playfully.

“Pffffft, you want me on you!” You rolled your eyes.

“Not today baby. Go.” he flickers his eyes to the front door then back at you.

“Fine.”

You got off him and went into your shared bedroom, sitting on the bed in silence. You were waiting for him follow you and maybe change his mind about not going but he never entered the bedroom. You rolled your eyes and decided to check what he was up to, slowly opening the door to peek, only to see him asleep, his cheeks was pressed up against the surface of the couch.

“Gosh..” you smiled at your sleep-deprived boyfriend. He looked so worn out, so cute like this, you know you couldn’t force him out..

..But you were still longing to get out, itching for a boost of confidence. You had just ordered a pretty dress online and it finally arrived. You wanted to wear it, wanted to doll up since all you have been in the past couple of weeks was Chan’s big t-shirt and sweatpants feeling a little ugly.

You sat back on your bed again, pondering what you should do with the rest of your day, what you should do to make you feel better.

You pulled out your phone, dialling a number. “Hey, you wanna go out S/GF/N?”

While your boyfriend was still passed out, you got ready to go out with the girlfriends of the other boys and threw in a quick nap. You straighten your hair, put on your make up before slipping on the dress. It was just a simple black halter body-con dress, but you felt extremely sexy in it.

It was 7pm by the time you were done with everything. You strutted out with a pair of high heels towards your boyfriend who had just woken up, occupied on his phone.

“Hey baby, how was your sleep?” You ask softly, bending down to give him a peck on his cheek.

“Good,” he says pulling you onto his lap as he sat up.

He locks his phone before looking up at you, gasping at your appearance.

His eyes widen, travelling from your shoulders down the curve of your body to your legs then back up to your pretty face. He found you extremely sexy like this, not that he never thought you weren’t. But it’s also been a while since he saw you all dressed up.

“Woah.. Where.. Where you going pretty girl?” He stuttered.

“Out! Gonna go clubbing!” You say cheerfully, wrapping your arms around him while his drops around your waist.

“Y/N, were you serious?” He was taken off guard at your quick reply.

“Yeah, I told you I wanted to go out,” a hint of desideration showing.

“Baby— but with who?” It was his turn to whine now.

“With the girls now since you didn’t want to go,” you teased him and Chan shoots you a guilty smile. “I wanted to be pretty today. My pretty dress finally arrived.. Look,” your hand smooths over the hem of your dress before pointing at the neckline, showing it off to your boyfriend.

“You are pretty, always will be baby,” he says caressing your arm and looking up at you in adoration. “Now I’m mad.. at myself.”

He’s mad at himself. He feels like a bad boyfriend not registering your cues of you wanting to feel and look pretty. He retraces back to the past couples of week how you have been cooped up in his apartment in nothing but lounge wear, you couldn’t even dress yourself up for work since you work from home. Although you have always been the prettiest to him, he understands how you feel. You were just a girl, his girl.

“Why?”

“That I’m going to be home by myself now while my pretty girlfriend will be out in this sexy dress.. all because I didn’t know she wanted to feel pretty,” his eyes traces down your body one more time, feeling his start to get flushed.

“Is it too late?” he genuinely asked.

You laugh. “Mhmm, the other girls are ready to go.”

“You really going to leave me like this?” He looked down to the area you weren’t quite sitting on, indicating to something that was growing hard, but you just laugh. You were already running behind, so he just has to suck it up and wait till you come back so you can take care of him.

“I’ll let you kiss me, but I will have to leave you like this,” He smiled at you before pulling your face closer, letting your lips finally touch each other. He deepens the kiss quickly and you let him have his way for a little bit until pulling back completely.

“Can I’ll drop you?”

“Are you sure?” You didn’t want to bother him. After seeing him pressed up against the couch exhausted, you feel guilty because he never has time to himself.

“Of course! I would love to do my boyfriend duties for my baby.”

You had blast to be very honest. You have never felt this sexy and confident in a while. And to feel this way all night with the best of your friends was very special to you. You enjoyed girls night alot, but there were moments where you missed Chan. But you knew he was going to be home waiting for you so you just had to wait till the end of the night to see him again.

“How was it?” He asked the second you got into his car.

“It was fun. We drank and danced alot and.. I missed you heaps,” you slurred cheerfully, drunk and a little horny.

“Missed me?” He smirked.

“Mhmm, missed you Channie,” you pouted reaching out for his hand.

“Gotta go home first..” he says as he lets you hold his hand. “Gotta go home first and then I’ll let you show me how much you missed me.” He gives you a flirty glance and pull his hand to your lips, pecking the back of it.

“How did you feel though?”

“I feel sexy, Channie,” you confess.

“I’m happy to hear that. You look so extremely sexy tonight baby,” he complimented, making sure you know he acknowledges your feelings.

Once you got home, he instantly drags you into the bedroom, pushing you to sit in the bed.

“Missed you so much..” he crouches down and steady himself by his hands on either side of you. “I can’t believe I rather sleep than go out with you today..” planted a kiss to your shoulder making you giggle. “..I’m such bad boyfriend..” he continues and you nod.

“Such a bad boyfriend for my good Y/N,” he kisses your other shoulder before pushing you down on the bed.

“Hmm, you’re such a bad boyfriend,” you jokingly agreed, pulling him ontop of you as you make space for him in between your legs.

“You gonna let me make it up to you?” His hands inches up your thigh, bunching up your dress.

“Yes Chan please. Make it up to me..” you couldn’t wait any longer now, practically whining underneath him. “Just wanted to be pretty for you today..” you say breathless and he starts to nip the skin on your neck.

“No.. no more…” you whimpered as he pulls outs of you. You were out of breath, close to blacking out.

“Okay okay.. shhh shh.. that was last one, my pretty girl..” Chan comforted you after coating 5 orgasms out of you. He wiped you down before throwing the towel away, pulling you into his chest.

“Ohh— is it 5 already?” He questioned after glancing at the alarm clock which made you look up to confirm.

It has been 4 hours since he peeled your dress off you. And although you were wrecked, it was worth every second.

“I got no sleep.. Gotta call off practice,” he says and your face immediately lits up. The tiredness gone the second you know he was finally going to be home on a Saturday morning. He smiles at you before reaching out for his phone and unlocking it.

Chan Practice cancelled for today

Seungmin Why?

Chan Gotta deal with Y/N

You watch as he converses with his group members. “Okay but then thats makes me seem annoying,” you complain and he looks down at you.

“She’s sick?” He chuckles, with a raised eyebrow.

“But then I don’t want them to think you took the day off just because I’m hung over,” you complained again, with a fake pout.

“Should I just tell them the truth then?” He suggests, placing a kiss to your forehead. “Tired from fucking Y/N since she came back from the clubs,” he says and you playfully hit his chest getting all shy at how he blew your back just a couple minutes ago.

“They all will understand. I’m sure they missed their girlfriends too,” he said, throwing away his phone and pushing your head in his chest so you can finally rest.

“Since I’m home today baby..” he starts, and you hummed. “What do you want to do when we wake up?”

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arabellasleopardcoat · 8 months

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MAD (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Chapter summary: Temptation is everywhere in the Red Keep

Warnings: Mature language. Westerosi sexism.

A/N: I was going to write the letters, but I promised myself I wasn’t going to go over 5k

Part 1

Aemond watches in amusement as you crawl around the gardens in the Red Keep. You are wearing a pale yellow sundress, covered by a pretty apron. It resembles a servant’s outfit, instead of a proper gown for a lady of your station. Despite it, you look well. The apron has lace much too delicate for a servant girl, and he guesses you must have sewn it yourself. Helaena sports a soft cotton variation, clearly stemming from her issue with lace.

Both of you are covered in grass stains. The pretty aprons serve their function well, preventing the ruin of your dresses. There is a certain attractiveness in the joy of your expression, he muses, in a detached fashion. Never had he seen a lady so happy about getting her hands dirty.

His careful plan to court you indicates Aemond has to come out and offer both of you refreshments. Yet, he finds himself hesitant about breaking the moment. No matter how unladylike your behavior is, he has never seen you more carefree.

So far, he is finding you much of a tough crowd for a farm girl. It was meant to be easy, but you are so guarded all the time, it takes more effort than Aemond thought would be needed. It’s not like he was expecting you to fall at his feet the first week in, but he had hoped to be able to talk to you alone at least once. Instead, you are either plastered at Helaena’s side or slipping away before he can get more than a word in. And tense. So damn tense, one would think Aemond bites.

It’s getting a bit ridiculous. You are infuriating, for a young maiden. Your only redeeming quality is your treatment of Helaena. You seem to have hit it off with her, and remain loyal and steadfast. Listening to her rambles with infinite patience, accommodating her needs and enabling her bug hunts.

Any other noble lady would have run for the hills already. But you seem to take your made-up position as companion seriously, doing research on his sister’s interests and allowing her to place all sorts of bugs on your hands. If any, Aemond supposes that is a good quality in a wife. It shows you have a strong stomach and a certain amount of bravery.

The Seven knew if he was the one getting crawled all over by Helaena’s pests, he would need to soak in a bath for a week. Just on cue, she gives a small yelp of surprise before grinning madly. Helaena is holding something in her hand, probably a caterpillar or something that has equally disgusting crawling habits. She looks deliriously happy.

Deciding to grant you the kindness of not having to touch it, Aemond comes out of the corner he is hiding in, carrying a small tray.

“Ladies.” Aemond tries to sound cheerful. By the tension in your shoulders, he doesn’t quite reach the mark. “Don’t you think it’s a bit too hot for all this?”

Helaena stops, giving him a wide smile. It has been far too long since Aemond has seen her this happy. Probably before the birth of the twins. One good thing you have achieved. His chest aches. Must be the heat.

“Brother!”

“My Prince.” You sound much less excited about it, going from your hands and knees to a respectable sitting position. Which, a shame. The more Aemond looked at you in that position, the more… agreeable he found himself to the prospect of bedding you.

“I brought you some juice.” Aemond says, awkwardly. In truth, no matter how hard he tries, this is not as easy as he had expected. He is not used to the flowery language of courtiers, never been one for it himself. The only time he has entertained preparing delicate compliments has been for disguising clever barbs at his nephews.

“Thank you.” Helaena puts down whatever bug she is holding, and daintily wipes her hands on her apron, before grabbing a cup. “Do you want to see what we found today? We have a caterpillar from a…”

Aemond tunes Helaena out. While he likes his sister more than he likes most people, everyone in the Red Keep must be going mad with all the talk about insects. It’s unavoidable. Even he has picked up a few facts on the things. Aemond is pretty sure you have driven his mother to insanity already, having to deal not with one, but two girls obsessed with crawling things.

And by the Seven, you are dedicated to your obsession. Somehow, you have procured a small shed outside for Helaena and her bugs. Aemond wonders idly if you asked for it, or just took it. Both are great feats, considering you are either very bold, or you managed to hold Viserys’s attention for more than five minutes.

You get up from the grass, eyeing him in distrust. Measuring, calculating. It’s a look that reminds him far too much of the older Beesbury. The man was bold, a trait that you seemed to share, but he trusted no one.

Aemond stares back at you. Your eyes are the one feature that he doesn’t really like. They are disquieting. Uncomfortable to look at for too long. They seem to know too much for such a young woman.

Other than that, you are rather pretty. The sort of beauty that seems to be heightened by the time spent outdoors. Much to his surprise, really. Your features glow from exertion, pieces of hair slipping out of the elegant updo you have it in. There is a softness in the curve of your neck, and a grace in the way you carry yourself. Unlike Helaena’s, your hands are stronger. A farm girl’s hands. The sun has you slightly tanned, yet, despite it, you manage to look healthy and not common.

You will make a fine wife, Aemond decides. Once he trains you out of the habit of crawling around in gardens on all fours. Best leave that for the bedroom.

“…. Brother! Brother!”

He is shaken out of his contemplation by Helaena’s nagging voice. Siblings. So annoying.

“What?” And she should be thankful, really. If it were Aegon, he would have smacked him with the tray.

“Lady Beesbury has been trying to fight you for her cup for the past couple of minutes.” She states, simply, and Aemond looks away from your delightful face, now marred with a frown, towards your hands. One of them is trying to reach the cup that’s just out of your reach.

“Oh. My apologies.”

As he hands you the cup, and you raise it to your lips, still frowning, he wonders if you are opposed to his advances or just too blind to notice them. Or perhaps, he is not so good at this courting business as he thought he would be.

Your tongue licks a stray droplet of the drink, almost absentmindedly. Lust is not a feeling he is unfamiliar with, but unlike other men, Aemond has always thought himself disconnected from it. Detached, as if he was more mind than body and heart. Yet, the sight of your small, pink tongue, makes his breeches feel uncomfortable.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling. Unlike some other members of his house, never has he considered himself to be particularly hot-blooded, nor has he behaved in such a manner. On that, he had taken pride. He was good. Better. Pious.

Aemond used to feel a sense of superiority about it. Look at Rhaenyra, he thought, and her inability to be faithful to one man. Look at Daemon, lusting over women half his age. Look at Aegon, chasing skirts everywhere. They were unable to control themselves and often made terrible mistakes. But not Aemond, no.

Until you came along. And now he is panicking and floundering around because you are smiling. Why are you smiling? Have you noticed a hint of lust under his impeccable mask and find it amusing?

His heart beats so fast, it feels as if it actually might come out of his chest and take flight. He doesn’t want you to think he is no more than a lustful dog, trying to hump your leg. He wants you to respect him, admire him.

“It has honey on it.” You finally put an end to his plight, your sweet voice sounding pleased. Your tone is a siren’s song, calling to him. It’s lure so great, Aemond thinks he might have been rendered unable of rational thought.

“It does.” Aemond answers, dumbly. He is more pleased than he should be, over you noticing that detail.

By the Seven, what is wrong with him? He is not Aegon, losing his head over a pretty maid. He is meant to be smarter, stronger than that. His grandsire would be disappointed in him.

“My favorite.” You say to him. As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t made it his task to know everything there is to know about you. “Tastes just like the one at home.”

Aemond, all tongue-tied from the way your face looks like when delighted, just nods.

Fuck. He should ask Cole for advice. He had heard he was quite the ladies' man back in the day. Even his mother had had a crush on him, or so the rumors said.

It has been a few weeks. You have settled into a comfortable routine by now. Avoiding the Princes, sticking by Helaena’s side. Garden time in the mornings, afternoons with the twins, supper with the family. Rinse and repeat.

With how careful you usually are, it’s hard for you to be ambushed. Yet, you are. As you turn down a corner, a book on apiculture you intend to show Helaena in your hands, you come face to face with Prince Aemond.

You are not dumb. You know what he is trying to do, but you never thought him to be so bold as to ambush you in a corridor. Everyone knew he had no interest in women, nor in tourneys or socializing. So his sudden shift towards chivalry and courtly love had made quite a few heads turn.

Your grandfather had warned you about him as soon as he started approaching you. Prince Aemond was, for some reason, trying to initiate a courtship with you. Usually so cold and dutiful, you couldn’t think of a reason for him to be pursuing you. Much less, why Otto Hightower himself would encourage his attentions. Too often you were made to sit next to him at dinner, or found yourself alone in a room with him. There was no reason for it. Except, of course, revenge.

“You can’t underestimate him, little bee.” Your grandfather had said. “If there is one of those children that’s ruthless enough to execute Otto Hightower’s plots, it’s that one.”

At first, you didn’t heed his advice. You had slowly started to be lulled into a false sense of safety, after days of nothing happening. Prince Aemond was not good at flirting, so you hadn’t noticed anything odd at first. Maybe, attempts at friendship.

Then, you felt slightly flattered. He was showering you with attention, which was something you didn’t frequently get, here. After all, you were a companion for Helaena. Your days revolved around making her happy, talking about what interested her, doing what she liked. While she was nice, she seemed to struggle with social interactions and so, she never asked about you.

But then, Aemond started to show his hand more and more. Your grandfather’s words had rung a bell then, and you started avoiding him. The better you got to know the layout of the Red Keep, the easier it was. Perhaps, for that, your guard lowered. Or perhaps, his clueless attempts at courting you had distracted you.

One thing to say about Prince Aemond? He had the same skill as a courtier as he did at embroidery, which is to say, none. Most of the time, it felt as if he was mocking you instead of courting you, although when he managed to get it right, it was quite sweet.

He is not as cold and calculating as you would have thought. A bit blunt, but otherwise pleasant to be around.

This time, though, his skill at planning is showing. Just as you left Helaena’s rooms, Prince Aegon appeared. In your haste to avoid him, you ducked into a side corridor, where Prince Aemond was conveniently waiting. There is literally nowhere for you to run to. This corridor leads to the Queen’s chambers, which you would not dare enter uninvited.

The Prince has you cornered. And you can tell, by the look in his eyes, that he is enjoying it.

“Are you alright, Lady Beesbury?” Aemond leans against the wall, sporting a smug smile. “You look quite agitated.”

“Oh, I am wonderful.” Your tone is so flat, you worry he will call you out on it. “Just wonderful.”

“Admiring the architecture?” Aemond asks, and you frown in confusion. The Prince then points to a new decoration in the shape of a Seven Pointed Star. “Mother put this here just last week. I can’t think of a reason for you to wander this corridor. Unless, you know… You were hiding.”

You snort a little, definitely unladylike, before schooling your face back into a polite mask. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing his antics amuse you, but he clearly notices. He gives you a tight-lipped smile, proud of himself.

“Perhaps I was.” It comes out slightly flirtier than you expected. More coy. Good Gods, what is going on with you? First you find him sweet, then you laugh at his humor, now you flirt? No. It can’t be. You clear your throat, but the damage is done. Aemond closes the distance between the two of you.

“Don’t try to run, little bee.” He warns, and you roll your eyes. If this is his attempt at seduction, he is even worse than you expected. It sounds as if you are about to get murdered instead of romanced. “Nor hide.”

“You are not allowed to call me that.” You complain because while you might tolerate it coming from your family, it doesn’t mean you like it. Aemond, as always, ignores you.

“I wanted to give you something.”

Suddenly, you do not feel as comfortable anymore. Dread makes your hands start to sweat, and you clench and unclench your fists. Is he about to try something to ruin your reputation? You are in great danger, you realize. You are an unwed woman, alone with a man who’s not part of her family nor her betrothed. This is bad. Really bad.

“Yes, my Prince?” You answer, very curtly, keeping your distance. Still, it’s a bit unnecessary. By the posture he is sporting, hands at his back, Aemond looks more likely to start marching than try and besmirch your honor.

But one never knows with Targaryesn, does one? It was just a thing of looking at the eldests. Like dogs in heat. Besides, you have been outmaneuvered. Again. The brilliance in this is, Aemond doesn’t need to do anything. Not even touch you. Just say he did. These are the facts. Prince Aegon saw you walk towards a secluded hallway. Aemond and you are alone. Everyone knows you have been flirting for a while now. Anyone can do the math.

Here comes the blackmailing attempt, you guess. You can already hear it, words ringing in your ears so clearly you swear he is the one saying them. You either convince your grandfather to vote this way, or act that way, or I say you bedded me.

Your instinct turns out to be wrong. Instead of starting an evil monologue and threats, Aemond presses a small lump in your hand. It’s something wrapped in silk cloth, and small. Despite it, you receive it as if it were a burning coal.

Unable not to, you peek at it. Inside the cloth rests a small hairpiece in the form of a bee. It’s set in silver and decorated with black and yellow stones. You are no expert in jewelry, but you can tell it’s expensive. There is no way your family could afford something like it.

Never before has someone gifted you anything as nice as this is. It’s not like you are destitute, but your grandfather is the Master of Coin because he is loyal and honest. Not because of his ability to amass wealth. He is smart, and knows how to make the most of little, but as far as accumulating wealth goes, you will be better off with a Lannister.

The temptation to keep it is strong. You love shiny things as much as any other girl, and this was clearly made for you. Besides, giving it back would be wasteful. With such an obvious allusion to your house, it’s not like it can be gifted to any other girl.

It would look pretty on your hair. And it would help you blend in. You knew you wore simpler styles than most of the ladies here. This would show that you were not only a farm girl, but as much of a Lady as any other woman.

It would also mean flaunting or even acknowledging Aemond has a claim on you. Despite the temptation, you can’t keep it. You are too level-headed for it. While it might be nice to show everyone you were as noble as any of them, you know it’s a bad idea. It’s nothing but your vanity speaking.

You ignore the little voice in your head that tells you that it’s charming that Aemond tries so much. Nothing but vanity.

Instead of doing anything, you do as always, playing clueless. Best that he thinks you are dumb instead of deliberately trying to offend him.

“You are one of the most thoughtful brothers I have met.”

“Hm?” Aemond blinks, as if he is unsure what you are talking about. You have to conceal your smile, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your face from twitching.

“Your devotion to your sister is admirable. I will make sure to get it to her.” You smile, and turn back on your heel, pocketing the hairpiece.

The last thing you hear is Prince Aegon’s mocking voice, who apparently had eavesdropped the last of the conversation.

“Not very charming, are you?”

“Shut up.” Aemond sounds embarrassed. It makes you laugh a little, both in disbelief at having gotten away with it and delight at his plight. But as soon as you enter your chambers and the door is locked after you, the reality of the situation sinks in.

You were in real danger today. Prince Aemond could have hurt you. He could have damaged your reputation. And worse of all, you would have let him. You need to get away from this place. Fast.

“Her father is sick.” Aemond complains, as he sits in his grandsire’s chambers. “Oddly convenient timing.”

“Oh?” His grandsire barely lifts his eyes from the parchments he is looking at. He makes some notes with his quill. Despite the great catastrophe this is of their plans, Otto doesn't look too concerned.

“I was just starting to make some progress!” Aemond rubs his temples. “I don’t understand women. She looked like she was going to accept the hairpiece, I know it.”

In truth, he cannot understand you for the life of him. You had even been flirting back a little, for the Seven’s sake. You were clearly distrustful of him, yet as the weeks went on, you started to become much more playful. Perhaps, even more than just friendly.

You responded well to his advances. Guarded, at first, but the jewelry clearly had gotten to you. Aemond had wanted to press, then. Gift you another piece, something that made his intentions even more clear. He had abstained only because of your quick retreat.

This was a game of patience, Aemond tried to remind himself. Not strategy, but patience. Moving too soon might spook you.

“Perhaps it’s a good sign.” His grandsire sets down his quill, looking at him. Aemond scowls more.

“Is it? Now she is halfway across the country, being chatted up by farm boys and the Seven know what else.”

His grandfather rolled his eyes.

“Aemond. Please, I beg you. Do not subject me to even more idiocy than I already have to withstand. Think.”

“I am thinking.” Aemond complains, before risking a glance at his interlocutor. When Otto Hightower spoke, others listened. And by the look on his face, Aemond was doing a poor job of it.

“You are falling for the girl.” He doesn’t need to elaborate any further. The sentence is as damming as if he had spoken more than a thousand words.

Aemond wants to give an angry rebuttal, but forces himself to keep quiet. Out of everyone in the Red Keep, it’s Otto’s judgement whom he trusts the most. His grandsire has always had a good eye for reading people, and knows him since he was a child. If anyone would know, it would be him.

“You have to admit she has been an excellent companion for Helaena.” He says instead, keeping his tone neutral. Which, you are. You have fulfilled that part of their plan to near perfection. It’s not like he is saying anything but the truth, or even praising you. That’s enough to endear you to both Aemond and his grandsire.

“Very dutiful.” Otto agrees, looking thoughtful. “If a bit… Well. Farm girl like.”

“So?” Because if any, to Aemond that’s a plus, not a hindrance. Women at court weren’t exactly what he would choose for a wife. Too used to niceties and intrigues, your lack of refinement was refreshing. Not in your words because Aemond could tell you were holding back your real thoughts and opinions, but in your reactions. The face that you made when angered was very amusing.

“This is still the woman you are trying to manipulate to do our bidding.” His grandsire shifts towards the fire, casually. Like he would rather not see how his words are about to upset him. Aemond fights the urge to laugh because as if. He knew exactly what he was getting into. This was not the time for moral concerns.

“Is it so bad if I like her?” He truly doesn’t see the issue. Aemond will marry you, after all. Liking you is a good thing.

“As long as it doesn’t cloud your judgement.” Ah. Of course. Aemond walks around the desk, to be able to look at his grandsire in the eyes. Sometimes, it’s hard for him to do so. Having only one eye means having to compensate for the blind spots, and it ends up making things awkward. It’s not often Aemond puts himself through it.

“It would never cloud my judgement.” He tries to look as earnest and sincere as he can. Despite it, Aemond it’s not sure if he believes himself. Too frequently has he found himself distracted with thoughts of your eyes or your smile. Too frequently has he thought about what it would feel like to kiss you and hold you close.

“You are panicking. Over a woman.”

Aemond keeps quiet. There is not much else to say, after all. He can’t exactly claim objectivity, but at least liking you makes him more likely to succeed. Or that’s what he hopes for. Having the right motivation and all.

His grandsire sighs. He gets up, green cloak billowing. Just as Aemond and his mother, he is not very prone to affection. That’s why the hand on his shoulder comes out as a surprise.

“Back in my day…” Otto starts, and Aemond cannot help but roll his eyes. “We didn’t have the luxury of seeing our ladies every day.”

Despite the urge to tease him about sounding like such an old man, Aemond is not going to pass up his opportunity to get advice. He is desperate enough to leave his pride aside. All his plans counted on you being here, after all.

“What did you do, then?”

“I wrote her letters. And sonnets.” The idea of someone as serious as him writing sonnets, of all things, is a laughable one. But perhaps it holds some merit. Commonplaces were commonplaces for a reason, he had realized with the jewelry. If ladies liked letters, Aemond was not opposed to writing you a few.

A shame he was not going to get the chance to see your eyes gleaming with happiness. All the efforts in obtaining the damn bee that Helaena now wore had been worth it for the look on your face. You were rather cute when being greedy, after all.

“Sonnets? You?” Because his grandsire must be teasing. Surely. He can’t even picture him in love. Ew.

“The most artful.” Otto smiles slightly. Aemond cannot help but laugh, feeling a little better. “In your case, I would try letters. You would probably scar her for life with your attempts at poetry.”

So that night, Aemond sits down on his desk, scowling. His penmanship is not what it used to be, before the loss of his eye. Writing is a challenging endeavor, having to keep the letters in a straight horizontal line and legible enough for the person receiving the letter to understand its meaning.

“My dear Lady Beesbury.” Aemond shakes his head and scratches the greeting. “No, too presumptuous.”

“Lady Beesbury? No, too formal. But her first name is too familiar.” He scratches another greeting, quickly realizing he would have to rewrite the letter before sending it.

It takes about four separate rolls of parchment, and by the end of it, Aemond’s hands are stained with ink. He finally settles on a small note.

Dear Lady Beesbury,

I am writing to you to inquire about your father’s health. As you are a very appreciated family friend, I feel it is my duty to ask about your welfare and see if there is anything we can do for you. If you think it necessary, know every Maester at the Red Keep is available to depart to Honeyholt on your call.

Wishing you well,

Prince Aemond.

Perhaps, not his most graceful attempt, but he sends it by raven regardless. He spends the week oddly on edge, waiting for your reply. It’s a simple note, too, graced with your thanks, but that doesn’t really say anything.

He finds himself looking for excuses to keep talking to you. Asking your opinion on a name day present for Helaena. Your opinion on a book. Your thoughts on honey from the Vale as in opposed to Honeyholt.

Today, I read an old treaty about medicinal uses of plants. I remembered that the topic interests you, and so, have enclosed my notes, in the hope that you soon will be reunited with us and able to read it for yourself.

The fact that you answer at all surprises him. So guarded as you were in court, he would have never thought you capable of sharing snippets of your life with him. But perhaps boredom or loneliness is getting to you. It must be quite the change, going from running around the Red Keep with Helaena, the twins and him, to your lonely home and tending to a sick relative.

He likes you, Aemond realizes. You are quite witty, and the conversation flows easily now that he actually has time to think about his answers. No longer he finds himself paralyzed by his task. It’s much easier to talk to you, now that you aren’t in front of him.

It means he starts to get bolder, too. More open. Praising your beauty, your manners, your mind. Not only does your physique appeal to him, but now that he is actually getting to know you, Aemond is starting to enjoy your humor and conversation.

The days have been very sunny lately, yet it has only contributed to my loneliness. I fear you might have ruined me, for I cannot step out in the sun without searching for your beauty.

You get skillful at evading the topic. You do not respond to the compliments, rather evade them entirely. But slowly, hints of your real feelings start to peek through. The attention he bestows on you must be flattering because small words of fondness start to appear.

…. It’s not a lack of recognition on my part about the Maester’s arguments in favor of the historical ramifications of the fall of Valyria, but rather that I find myself inclined to agree with my Prince on the topic…

And there is, of course, the first time you admit your enjoyment of his company and attentions. A memorable occasion if there was one, both for making him feel like less of a suitor that couldn’t take a hint and wanted.

“Aemond, are you blushing?” Aegon teases as they wait for their meal. His mother has insisted that they should have at least one, as a family. It does not seem to be working. Most of the time, his grandsire is busy and Helaena, while physically present, has her head in the clouds. Yet, probably because Aemond was some sort of despicable vermin in a past life, everyone seems to be present today.

Aegon snatches the letter out of his hand before he can react.

“As the saying goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder. But I have never hoped to find myself in such a state of grief.” Aegon reads, in a mockingly high tone. He squints at the letter, either trying to decipher your terrible handwriting or to get the letter to stop swimming. He is past the amount of annoyance a sober Aegon causes, which means he is drunk. “I had not realized how much I had grown used to and liked your presence. Just as it happens to you, I find myself turning and searching for you among a sea of faces.”

“Give that back!” Aemond lunges for the letter. Aegon scrambles off the bench with surprisingly agility, crumpling the letter slightly. Aemond mourns the loss of its pristine state. He has been saving each one of your notes in perfect state.

“Poor girl. Clearly deprived, if she finds the way you feed Vhagar so fetching.” And it doesn’t even make sense, but it angers him anyway. Aemond lunges for Aegon, trying to snatch the letter out of his grasp.

“Why can’t we have a nice meal without you two arguing?” His mother asks, and takes the letter from Aegon, handing it back to him. “You shouldn’t be playing with her feelings. She sounds as if she cares about you.”

This time, Aemond’s blush is not from delight.