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camilbarnessss · 1 year

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¤ The Dance of The Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 8 》

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess married. Secretly, but they did, even after all the schemes and plots of their families so they couldn't. The lovers made their own discreet plot as well, and it is working just fine. Daera understands their position, the causes of their harsh decisions. However, anyone who was wronged like Aemond so many times was, is going to feel some sort of hatred, wether it's subconsciously or consciously, towards the people who did it. That is a hard true. But, what Aemond ends up doing above the skies of Storm's End, out of rage, and eternal resentment...ultimately starts the domino effect that would lead to The Dance of the Dragons, which will mean the lost of his sanity...and his love.

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, infidelity, lots of angst, mention of rape, mention of corruption, forced abortion, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

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The night is long. And, though many in the castle may be wishing for it to be over already, the arriving of the next day will not suit gladly to some. Specially to the royal family, to be clear, who, ironically, are the ones more desperated for the day to be over.

After the violent encounter between the princes Aegon and Daera, in the former's chambers, Ser Erryk, his sworn protector, stayed at the outsides of the rooms. The white cloak now stands with firmness in front of the doors, in silence, remembering the fight and acussations of the princes he witnessed, not even an hour ago.

After the others left the quarters, a serious Aemond tried to take his brother to Maester Orwyle, for him to clean and treat properly the bleeding wounds on both his arms. Nevertheless, Aegon was in total denial, and started drinking recklessly -crying as well- while yelling madly to his younger brother to fuck off and to leave him alone.

Not putting up with any of his shit, prince Aemond fucked off the room, and left his drunk brother alone in his misery. On his way out, he mocked Ser Erryk, as he has done before a few times, pointing out what a sworn protector he is, that couldn't get past the Velaryon pups to save his prince. The Cargyll twin, as he must, remained silent.

Prince Aemond, afterwards, desired to reach to his wife's chambers, to also try to take care of her own injuries and, besides, to talk with her. However, the prince was catched in a hallway by his grandfather, The Hand, whom he had a talk with about his reckless and dangerous behaving in the supper. When Otto asked for Aegon, wanting to reproach him to, Aemond only answered that his brother was "rotting himself deeper".

While the young princes of the realm were having their private and brutal quarrel, the adults of the royal family shared, as a matter of fact, a warm moment. Well, Rhaenyra and Alicent, to be clear. The Queen and The Princess agreed on the matter that the latter will be returning to The Keep, in dragonback, within a short time, after seeing the children home. Rhaenyra would be returning to King's Landing along her older step-daughter, Daera, for she still oughts eight more days of her monthly visits to her godschildren, and her dear cousin.

Subsequently to the fight, Lucerys, Rhaena and Baela had departed to their bedrooms by themselves after they were commanded to it by their two older siblings. Matters to say that, before they went to their chambers, and after Luke had a quick talk with his mother, he communicated to all that they will be leaving soon, later in the night, back to home. He, as well, told his older sister that she would be coming back with the company of Rhaenyra, which she heartily agreed to.

The siblings didn't want for their parents to know about the fight of Daera and Aegon, for that would only worsen the doings of the dinner. Thus, Daera didn't go to see Maester Orwyle either. Had it been Maester Gerardys they would have gone to him, for he knows how to keep secrets. But, unfortunately, he remained in Dragonstone while they are at the capital.

Hence, the one attending to Daera's wounds, is her husband...her fake husband.

In the round dining table of Jacaerys's rooms, he is seated along his wife, who has both her arms extended in front of him. Two chandeliers are lighted near them, and then, the whole chamber is sinked in the darkness of the starry night. The tiny flames of each candle dance in the air, keeping them warm.

With delicacy and caution, Jace passes a humid rag on her arms, carefully cleaning the wounds with slowness. The bleeding has ended, minutes ago, and now he is just cleaning the blood left, caring a lot about not touching the injuries to often, for they are still very fresh, and irritated.

She has Aegon's eight scratches on her arms, and seems to not care about them, for she has not complained even once about the pain.

Daera sighs through her nose, pressing her lips as she watches the ugly long wounds she now wears in her skin.

-And, so, Dyana will join us in our way back home-, the princess goes telling, with a low soft voice-...She will be better at Dragonstone-, she whispers.

-I agree-. Jacaerys sighs, tired. He is slouched in his chair, with a really bad posture, in front of her, carefully cleaning her blood with the rag-. I am so glad she'll be out of this place-. He sighs, again, and then tsks his tongue-. You know? If we could only know how many girls he has damaged, we would take them all with us-. For a moment, he stops his doings, lifting his head to look at her, with impotence.

When he looks up to his wife, he finds a soft crooked smirk on her lips, and a tired shine on her eyes, staring at him with a pity sadness. Within some silent seconds, he sighed, understanding her without the needing of words.

-You are right-, Jace whispers, looking down again to keep cleaning the blood-. Solutions are not the problem. Things like that must not even happen, in the first place-. The prince mumbles, ashamed. The princess nods quietly, exhausted, losing her gaze on some point-. My uncles are...total guttersnipes-, he grunts lowly, frustrated.

Daera gives a slow blink, thinking of her cousin. Not Aegon, much less Daeron, but Aemond. She remembers his speech in the supper, the tauntly toast he gifted to her brothers. He called them Strong, in front of everybody, and she just can't believes it. He has always make sport of mocking the bastards, of course, but never before had Aemond been so blunt about it, not in front of the adults of the family. He didn't even care about Rhaenyra, his half-sister and mother of the boys, or about Daemon's presence, the one who decapitated Vaemond Velaryon for an equal mock made to his family.

No, Aemond just did it, after being dead silent and ignoring her gazes during the supper. Luke had been eating his own head since the fighting for his succession began, for he thought he did not deserve it. The last thing he needed was his uncle pointing out his alleged bastardy. Jace wasn't rooting for it either, because he himself has also been anxious about his future kingdom and how he'll be received by it.

Aemond didn't seem to care about her either, in that moment, for she had been so clear with him about how nervous and tense she was about all the visit, and the hearing, and he just seemed to ignore that too. Recklessly, her husband lifted his cup to haunt her whole family.

Daera sighs through her nose, briefly scrunching her lips.

-I am sorry for what Aemond said, at the dinner-. She mumbles from a moment to another, making Jace to blink slowly, as he keeps rubbing the rag on her arms-. He doesn't know what he's talking about-. The princess hisses, sincerely angry with him, but not in the way Jace might pressume.

-I care naught about what he has to say-, Jacaerys answers with confidence, and a calm voice-. I know who I am-, he states.

The princess presses her lips, looking at him with a tiny smile of pride, silently nodding.

Jacaerys may have got a little too tempered back in the Strong Toast, and could not hold himself of clashing his fist against the mummer's face. Two things led him to that: the disprespect towards his wife, and the disrespect towards him and his brothers.

"I have my own memories", the one-eyed dared to declare, alluding to the times he got to sleep with princess Daera, last year, before she cut off any relation and fondness of him, or that is that the lot believes. Little did they know that the "memories" prince Aemond was making reference to, were made just the past night, when she rode him passionly in the intimacy of their secret island.

However, as we are seeing the things from prince Jacaerys's eyes -for the moment- let us imagine what he must have felt when recalling that he married his cousin-sister, in the first place, to protect her and save her from the ruthless being that, tonight, Aemond assured to be.

-Sister-, he calls her in a low murmur, as he keeps cleaning her wounds with delicacy, looking at them-. We have been wed for...a year, already-. He points.

-Indeed-, she answers him along a short giggle. He breathes a quick smile, soon closing his lips with doubt, and hidden nerves.

-Regarding the- the thing that we did today, at your chambers...-, Jace starts to recall, raising his brows. Daera raises hers as well, shivering for a second when remembering that she still oughts to tell Aemond about that-. I wanted to ask you if...-he sighs-...if you feel like you took the right decision, about leaving all of your feelings for Aemond completely behind-. The prince asked, lifting his head to look at her right in the eyes.

She opens her lips, staring at him with an honest surprise.

Daera wasn't expecting that question, for this is literally the first time he asks about the matter, since they agreed to never do it again. What is her answer? A one she cannot say outloud. That she loves Aemond, from the bottom of her heart, still to this day. That she feels that this was the right decision, to keep loving him, no matter what.

However, her eyes light up with dearness as she watched the brother she was forced to wed. To be honest, she loves to feel this protected, not only by him, but by her entire family too. The wounds in her heart caused by the disagreements of those days have healed. Whilst she forgot about the despair and the endless fights during that time, she remembers their worriness and desire for her to be well, and good. They were only taking care of her, as she always does with all of them. How to ever blame them?

Curious, Jace looks at the tender smirk that formed on his wife's lips.

-You are smart, good-hearted, loyal...and quite handsome-, Daera raises her brows funnily. He instantly snickers, looking down, and she laughs as well. Jacaerys smiles softly, looking up at her again, staring at the dear glim in her eyes-...You are a good husband-, she whispered, sincere, giving him his answer.

Jace smiles, blushing, and looking down again. He has left the rag on the table, and now he softly holds her left arm, where the lesser wounds are, in his hands.

-You are a good wife...-, he whispered back, lowly, tenderly caressing her wrist with his thumbs, feeling her warm skin.

Daera smiles tinyly, looking at his hands. "I am hers, and she is mine", Jacaerys stated the day of their wedding, officiated by the religion of The Seven, looking at her eyes while saying it. It is a pity, to be honest, that he actually does not posses a good wife, for she fucks another man while being married to him, because she also married that other man and, doubtessly, she belongs to him instead.

Jace keeps rubbing his thumbs on her arms, doing it so slowly, and tenderly. The silence in the room is a comfy one, with only the burning candles to be heard. Jace raises his gaze, looking for her eyes.

They were already on him, watching him in silence. The prince, inevitably, starts to remember the things his wife did to him on the afternoon, seated on top of him, and dancing majestically in there. The memories made his brown eyes to glow dark, and his throat to gulp.

Princess Daera is an expert reading a man's desire and, with no doubt, she easily read it on her brother's gaze. Even with shame, he keeps remembering how she kissed him so wildly before. Daera blinks, feeling his caressings, and looking at him too.

Alyssa comes to her mind. Counting this night, it will be two already since her real husband impregnated her. Time is essential, and she can not lose it at all cost. She needs to do this and, well, Jace seems to want to do this.

Jacaerys clears his throat, feeling he has been staring for too long.

-Ah- uhh, let me go wash this-. The prince mumbles, letting her arm go, taking the rag, and standing up from his chair. Seeing him go, Daera blinks slowly, tilting her head to a side.

As he walks, Jace hears her chair moving, which made his steps to go slower. He almost turned around, but flinched at the moment of feeling two hands getting hold of his shoulders.

Daera makes him to turn around, breathing above his lips. Jace immediately gasps, and the rag fell on the floor, being forgotten.

-Daera-, he whispers, surprised.

She repeatedly shushes, placing her hands on his burning cheeks, and getting her face closer to him as she began to walk, pushing his body with her forwards steps. He gulps, watching at her lips, and not caring about where she was taking him.

Jace's back crashed against a wall, which took out a sudden groan from him, surprising himself. Daera extended a cocky smile, opening her eyes big, and gripping his shoulders tightly.

-You hide it so badly-, she whispers, approaching to him without shyness.

-What?-, he breathes fast, and then groans again when feeling her body starting to press against his. His manhood, all mighty, twitched at the second of feeling her.

-Your wanting of me-, she answered with a thin voice. Stiff, Jace breathes fastly, staring at her eyes-. I don't want you to hide it-. Daera cooes, directing one hand to his pants, and grabbing the between of them.

Jace immediately moaned, so shakily, almost melting right there in the wall, if it hadn't been for her other hand coming up to his jaw, grabbing it with her five fingers.

-Don't keep anything to yourself-. She asks, starting to rub the palm of her hand on his pants, feeling the tight bulk in them.

Jacaerys moans, shocked, curving his brows as he feels the magic touches on his croatch. He moans, time after time, even though they are soft and slow. Daera can't help but to gulp when she feels his cock again, for it is ridiculously big, fleshy and- fuck, strong.

She notices he moans before the lightest touches, and it amuses her to some point, for it is blatantly obvious that he has never had hands on his body, but his own, if so if he does those things. The princess, inevitably, laughs.

-You are so sensible, Jace, aren't you?-. She whispers, with her nose skimming his. Weakly, he tsks his tongue, all blushed while he moans-. You've never been touched like this, have you?-. Daera has her fun, smiling, rubbing his crotch from up to down.

-Never-, his thin voice answers, barely being able to talk, while she does it with all the causality of The Seven Kingdoms.

-I can tell, prince-. She snickers, looking down, and curving her brows when finding the bigass erection on his pants, as if it has been like that since an hour ago-. My gods, what was in that supper?-, she whispers, bemused.

-I apologize-, he whines, ashamed. Oh, but that's the last thing he should be.

-Ugh, lusty brother-. Daera sighs, taking one of his hands with one of hers-. You must never apologize for surprising a woman-, she says, pressing her other hand tighter against his trousers. Jace trembles, groaning-. And neither you must neglect her-, she funnily mumbled, placing his hand, in one of her breasts.

Her brother nearly fainted at that moment, legs trembing and chest coming up and down, mouth always open. He was stiff before, but now he's melting, feeling the warm soft hill -as he prefers to call it- in her chest. He moans, breathless, when the hand above his made him to start squeezing it, as if it was one of those toys Joffrey has, a leather ball full of water.

-Holy lords, Daera-. The young prince sighs, watching stoppless how her breast gets squeezed under her blouse. Her neckline is so shyless that he can see the flesh getting tight under his hand-. My gods...-his head tilts to a side, mesmerized by the feeling, and the sight.

-Jace-, she sighs his name, closing her eyes as she gets her lips closer to his-. I want to make you a man-, Daera murmured, sensually, over his mouth. The prince whines, speechless before her confession.

It is not the first time she would be deflowering a man.

Daera herself makes the position to give a turn, and now her back is the one against the wall. Jacaerys moans, automatically leaning against her hand and body, making her to laugh for a second. Afterwards, she grabbed his neck from behind, and ended the distance between their lips.

The prince groans when they started to kiss with no restriction. Her mouth seems to always be hungry, he has noticed, and it makes his nerves to go higher, but also his pants to go tighter. He feels her rubbings on his cock, the pulling on his hair, the licking on his lips. Seven heavens, this woman is something else.

She lets out a sharp moan, feeling his manhood poking her womanhood stoppless. Daera gulps, not wanting for lust to take over her mind, and she keeps kissing him with her head as empty as she can allows it to be.

Though Jace began to shyly squeeze her teat on his own, which sincerely took out another moan from her lips.

We can find prince Aemond, at the moment, walking around The Red Keep's bones, behind every wall and hallway, deep hidden from anyone's eyes.

Aemond went to his chambers after the talk he had with his grandfather, if it can even be called "a talk", for it was only Otto speaking about cautiousness, and reproaching, over a thousand times, his imprudent toast at the supper. He stayed on his rooms around fifteen minutes, in case someone else went looking for him, like his mother, or his own wife, Daera. Neither appeared.

So, after waiting that amount of time, he was the one who went to look for her, desperately. Aemond wrapped himself in his black leather coat, and entered the secret pasaageways of the castle, knowing his way very well around them.

He runs in circles around his mind, reviewing time after time what he is going to say to her. They have to talk about Vaemond Velaryon, his speech at dinner -he doesn't expect less-, why she was covered in blood this morning, and...Alyssa.

A moan. Aemond hears a moan. From a moment to another.

The prince stops short, his entire body suddenly tensing. Blinkless, he looks around with his big eye, feeling how his heart halted its beating within a second. That moan, easily recognizable for him, was Daera's.

It is now that the prince is starting to hear those sounds around him and, after a quick blink, he realized they were coming from back in the hallway, from one of the many rooms he is walking behind of. A snap after this realization, he hears another moan, but this one was male. Weak and pathetic.

Aemond loses no time. He makes no slow dramatic move. No. He firmly turned around, and walked with big long steps towards the place he was hearing those sounds from. Sadly, the closer he got, the more his body began to lose its steadiness, and began to shake entirely.

He was approaching to Jace's chambers, he noticed. The light of candles started to slightly reach his face as he walked closer to a wall of tiny holes, rhombus shaped. Through the infinity of holes, he could see a figure was leaning against it. No. Two figures. One of them of...of silver curly mane.

Aemond's legs failed for a brief second, and his eye, never blinking, opened bigger than ever. His heart broke, and his ears whistled with sharpness. The prince opens both his hands, placing them in the wall as he sees through it with a teary gaze, and an open mouth.

Right at the other side of the wall in which The One-Eyed Prince placed his hands in, princess Daera, his wife, shares a wild deep kiss with prince Jacaerys, her husband, while she makes him to grab her breasts. One of her hands is moving, right on his pants, touching him. They are both moaning, and they are both...looked at by him.

Aemond's blood stops flowing through his body, his head spins, and he becomes dizzy. He gets nauseous, it gives him a headache. His heart breaks.

He doesn't know what is happening, he feels helpless, and betrayed. What is betrayal, if not the cradle where rage and fury its born? What is rage, if not what he is the owner of, right now? What is fury, if not what blinds a man's eyes, and clouds his mind?

Bitter tears come up to his only eye. And, with them, the unleashing of his doom.

Not even with the slightest idea of her husband being right behind her, Daera keeps moaning, and keeps touching Jace with no shyness. The boy is feeling so good, flinching and groaning with every touch, whining when she bites his lips.

Everything would have turned out perfect, for her. She would have bed Jacaerys, and the security of her upcoming child would have been secured forever. But, alas, it seems that none of it was truly meant to be.

After another moan from the young prince, a sharp thud shook the chambers, suddenly. The wall where they were kissing and touching trembled abruptly, as if the strongest lightning had struck it, as if the maddest fists had lashed out at it in a single, but extremely violent punch.

-Oh!-, Jacaerys immediately flinches, separating from her lips. Daera jumped as well, grunting, for she felt the wall shaking right behind her head, hurting her.

-What the fuck?!-, she reacts with confusion, turning her gaze to look at the wall.

-What was that?-. Jace asks, startled, looking all around. His wife, on the other hand, fixed her eyes on the rhombus shaped holes-. Is the earth shaking?-, he fears, worried.

Daera's blood started to get cold, in the baddest of ways, and the saliva in her mouth dried all up. That stroke came from the secret passageways, she is sure, for she has walked through them a thousand times, right behind this very chamber. The princess thinks, telling to herself that there is only one more person who customs the secret passageways as much as she does.

Her real husband.

-Oh-, a thin squeal leaves her throat, and her legs started to shake-. Oh no, no!-. She weakly whispers, curving her brows, and then suddenly pushing Jacaerys away from her.

-Daera!-, he calls-. Are you alright? What is it?!-. He asks, worried, grabbing her shoulders.

Daera squeaks, getting his hands off her, and walking away from the wall, and from him, with a heavy uncontrolled breathing. She is pale, as far as possible, and her eyes filled with fear and anxiety.

-Daera!-, Jace insists, looking at her back.

-I- I must leave-. Her throat trembles as she speaks, and grabs it with nerves, lightly squeezing it.

Aemond saw us. Aemond saw us. Aemond saw me.

-I can't-, she whispers, voiceless, shaking her head.

-What?-. Jace curves his brows, not understanding anything.

In that very moment, a loud wild roar of a dragon shakes the wholeness of King's Landing. The Queen of All Dragons caused the fuss, as she opened her mouth big with rage and fury, letting out a great long squeal of distress.

Princess Daera opens her eyes big, and tears began to reach them as her body quickly ran towards the balcony of the chambers. Daera came out within a second, almost slipping out, but not caring, and immediately looking up at the sky.

Vhagar took off from the beach with angry fast flappings, quickly raising powerfully in the skies, and rapidly getting lost into the multiple grey clouds of the night.

-No-. Breathless, the princess Daera whined.

She turned around, and within a second she flee the chambers of her husband with no proper explanation. Jacaerys stood at the middle of his rooms in total shock, speechless, looking at the open door she left.

Still in Maegor's Holdfast, Daera quickly arrived to her apartments, closing the door and locking it while sobbing, mumbling a thousand nonsenses with extreme angst, feeling a heavy weight on her chest, and all of her body.

Without thinking it twice, the princess goes into the secret passageways, running as fastly as she can, not even allowing herself to breath. Her heart is beating so quick, and her calm from before is only a memory now, haunted by fears and worries. She goes through the passageways like a fish on water or, better said, like a dragon on the sky.

And, speking of such...

Daera had never reached the beach so quickly, but under this trying circunstances, she forced herself to do so, and she very much did, not caring about her breathing, or bare feet. She doesn't stops at any second, running wild and fast, making the sand to fade in the night's breeze as her soul runs savagely on it.

The Golden Ray is now alone at the bay, not having his usual companion, Vhagar, sleeping at his side anymore. Nevertheless, he is restless as well, and has been growling and shrieking anxiously since a few minutes now.

When Kalistrox saw his rider finally making act of presence in the beach, desperately running towards him, he let out a roar and, with hurry, approached towards her while shaking his golden long neck. At the same time, he lowered one of his wings to the ground, quickly asking her to jump in.

-Kalistrox!-. She names him with a squeal, not waiting anything to walk up his strong golden scales, reaching her saddle with teary eyes-. Fucking hells, fuck, fuck!-, her voice breaks as she sits down.

The dragon growls with restlessness and concern, shaking his neck again.

-Sovēs! [ Fly! ]-, the princess quickly commanded, holding tight to her saddle.

Kalistrox shows all of his long sharp teeth when he flapped his huge wings and, with a single flap, lifted all of his big body from the ground, taking off within a second. All the sand around was abruptly thrown against the black stone rocks of the surroundings. Some of that sand has been burned, since this morning.

Daera's chest comes up and down endlessly, while her eyes watered even more when the wind started to tickle them. She gulps, holding her saddle tight, convincing herself that everything will be alright, that she knows how to deal with Aemond. It is not, at all, the first time.

Kalistrox growls, going swiftly and quickly.

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Lovers Island enjoys starry clear skies, at the moment, along a fresh tender breeze caressing the seas around, and the white sand of the island itseld. The palm trees are calmed, and the stone mountains at ease.

It is beyond a lovely night, definetely prettier than the past one, where it rained and flashed until dawn.

It's almost ironic, to not say cruel, for the latter ugly night of Lovers Island will turn out to be a far better one than this. We soon shall know why.

Prince Aemond is kneeled in the floors of the hut he and his wife made with their own hands. Right in front of him, barely some centimeters away, the fireplace burns with heat and life. A black cooking pot is placed on the fire and, in it, a white liquid already boils.

The prince is patch-less, and his blue sapphire reflects the fire on it. Said fire, at the same time, shines over the crystal tears he is endlessly crying. Aemond weeps with sorrow, looking at the pot as his body flinches, time after time, in the middle of his cry. His heart weights too much, as does his mind, thinking a thousand thoughts at once.

His head, how cruel it is, makes him repeat the scene of Jacaerys and Daera kissing against that wall, both of them moaning, and touching the other. No matter how much he repeats it in his memories, the prince still doesn't gets it.

Why? is a question constantly yelled in his thoughts. Why? Why? Why would she do this? Why would she be allowing herself to be touched by him? Why has this day go from bad, to merciless? Why him? Why me, to wield all this misery?

The sound of loud flapping reaches his ears, causing him to slowly raise his head. The prince gulps, knowing that Vhagar, after landing him in the island, immediately took off again, too stressed by his own stressed. His dragoness is away, he can feel, and so that only leaves one possible dragon arriving at the shores of the secret place.

The One-Eyed Prince opened the door of the hut with a shaky punch, leaving it wide opened as he walked outside with trembling legs, sobbing with distress. Though the island is totally dark, the fireplace of the insides lighted enough the surroundings.

The dragon arriving is no one but The Golden Ray, who landed with quickness, harshly clawing his paws to the sand. Aemond watches this with his chest coming up and down, and his tears only down.

When Kalistrox lowered his neck, the prince could see his rider weeping with anguish, hurriedly coming off her saddle. She, when seeing him too, sped up all her moves even more.

-Aemond-, she gasps as she walks down her dragon's wing-. Aemond, my love!-. Breathless, she starts running to him, barefoot.

Aemond can't even talk, crying just too hard, though he barely is making any sound. He shakes his head and presses his lips, closing his eye and taking a step back, not even wanting to look at her when remembering, again, Jace's hand on her body.

As his rider ran in the sand, Kalistrox growled, and raised from it with a big long flap, heading towards the skies while his huge heart beats with discomfort.

-I can explain it!-. The breathless princess says as she is getting closer to the hut's light. Her husband, red-faced, whimpers with weakness, looking down-. I was going to tell you, Aemond, I swear! This is not what it looks like!-, her crying voice promises, and she sighs shakily, approaching more to him-. My love-. She cooes, going to hold his cheeks.

But before her fingertips would do their usual magic on the prince's skin, this one hissed, and growled with pain, stepping away from her touch.

-You touched him!-, Aemond revealed to have a shaky broken voice, sharper than ever, making Daera's lungs to go breathless, and her brows to curve-. You kissed him, you FUCKED HIM!-, he yelled with despair, opening big his red teary eye.

-No no no, I didn't, I was going to!-. She immediately denies, giving him a broken smile. Aemond gasps, speechless-. I MEAN, NO- I was going to, yes, but- but! Let me explain myself! I swear this makes sense!-, Daera desperately stutters, shaking her head from side to side.

-During all this year, you have been...-, he starts to babble, bemused, feeling his legs failing. She gasps, quickly raising her brows-, you've been fucking your bast-

-I haven't!-. Daera steadfastly interrupted him, taking a step towards him, lifting her head to look at his eye-. Listen to me, Aemond, listen!-. She walks even closer, and her husband sobs, with his throat afflicted, looking at her with despair bathing on his tears-. I was going to tell you, and I was going to do it, yes-. The princess sighs with tiredness, lifting her brows-...For us-, she weakly whispers.

The prince blinks hugely, getting even more scared now, and more lost. Daera tsks her tongue and, afterwards, grabbed both his hands, taking them to her body. Then, they ended up on her belly, feeling it extreme warmness.

Both of them stare at each other. She, with softness. He, with fear.

-For our family-, the princess whispered, heartily. Her husband froze-. I must bed Jace, Aemond, to secure for me a prudent pregnancy...and the safeness of our daughter, or son-. Daera raises her brows, feeling his static fingers on her belly. Inevitably, she gulps, desperated for him to show any reaction-. I ain't doing it for desire!-, she quickly points, honest-. I am doing it for my love for you...and my love for our child-. She mutters with sincerity, and dearness, gripping his hands.

Up until this moment, Aemond had always believed that the worst wrong ever done to him was the merciless mutilation he suffered in the hands of the Strong bastards. Now, when the love of his life has shamelessly confessed to be completely willing to sleep with one of the bastards, to fool him into believing he sired her child, Aemond's believings have changed.

Daera furrows her brows, and her eyes flicker when she feels Aemond's hands departing abruptly from her belly, and sees his body trembling when he gasped in a desperate search of air.

-Aemond-. She names, worried.

The tears began to burn his skin, and the realization his mind. The prince realizes that his wife has known. During all this time. She has known he was to sire a bastard.

-If we could just...go inside-. Daera softly whispers, approaching to him-. We can talk it better in there, its freezing out here-. She says, raising her brows, and seeing him trembling-. I can cook you some sou-

-WHO ARE YOU?!-. Aemond yelled with fury and a shaky throat, abruptly turning to look at her with mad eyes.

Daera freezes in that moment, shocked, opening her eyes big. A roar was heard from Kalistrox, in the skies about. Her heart starts to pound with fear, and confusion. Who is she? What does that even means? How dares he?

-All- all these years! All the shit I have told you that has been done to me! Everything I have said to you!-. Her husband starts to shout, his usual soft voice turned into a sharp raspy one, that of a desperate man-. YOU know how much I have suffered, YOU know everything that has been plucked away from me! And...-, Aemond shakes, as his tears soak the sand below-, AND YOU WANT TO GIVE ME A BASTARD?!-. The prince nearly kneeled when he screamed that, pointing at himself furiously.

Daera's body tremble, but her eyes remain as sober as possible. Breath, she tells herself. It is not the first time dealing with her husband's mindset.

-I carry no bastard-. She simply denies, almost whispering. Aemond breathes fastly in front of her, if he is breathing at all-. You are married to me, and I am married to you. And I will give you a fucking proper child, Aemond-. Her harsh voice states.

-You just said you MUST fuck the wastrel so that no one know I AM the real father of it!-. Aemond reminded with a loud tone, opening his eye big-. THAT, in your belly, IS A BASTARD !-. He heartlessly pointed at her.

Matters to say, it is not either Aemond's first time messing with his wife's mindset. Much she kept herself from exploding too. Until now.

-WHAT THE FUCK IS YOU PROBLEM?!-. Daera shouted with rage. More tears gather in her purple eyes, which are looking at him with hurt and bemusement-. THIS...!-, she grabs her belly with a trembling hand-, is a child! MY child!-. The princess sobs as she walks closer to him, and he shakes his head, feeling it twirling-. Ours!-. Her voice whimpers with despair, curving her brows.

-Ow, fucking hells, DAERA!-. The prince roared desperately, closing his eye and stepping away from her, grabbing his head in the middle of his sobs.

-Yes, I- WE will have to pretend that the babe is Jace's! I am sorry! I too wish things would be different, Aemond, believe me that I do!-. She screams with a broken angry heart, looking for his gaze-. But THIS is our reality, the reality in which we agreed to have a child! WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU EXPECTING?!-, Daera yelled loudly, hurting her throat when doing so, wanting him to see the truth.

Aemond opened his mouth, as if he has been about to scream, but air left his lungs, and he whined with weakness, closing his eye, and squeezing his face with his hands under the tearful, upset gaze of his worried wife.

-I have been stupid...-, the prince weeps with shame-, fooled by the fake dream that I could be a father-, he confesses, sinked in sorrow.

-No, no-. Daera sobs, curving her sweaty brows as she hears Kalistrox's strong flappings from the sky-. You can be, Aemond, you can be a parent-. The princess whines, tired, slowly approaching to him-. We can...despite the circunstances-, Daera whispered, looking at the tears hanging on his pointy jaw-...We wouldn't be the first ones-. She brokenly smiles, with hope.

However, her husband brokenly sobbed, and turned his face to look at her, with glum.

-Who are you?-. He repeats, once again, not believing this is his Daera speaking.

His Daera's heart sinked deeper on her chest.

-I AM YOUR FUCKING WIFE!-. She yelled with pain and despair. He keeps treating her like she is insane, like she is the worst person in the world, when all she has done is been the best companion to him, the best listener and comforter. She only wants but a child of him, the purest demonstration of their love. Why is he treating her like this, then? Heartless-. Stop looking at me like that!-. Daera sobbed with weakness, punching his chest with her trembling hands-. I am your wife!-, she repeats, hurted.

-And I love you-, he cries, painful, shaking his head-. But now I am seeing, wife, clearer than ever...-. Aemond covers his mouth for a second, sobing on his hand-...that you indeed are one of them-, the prince declares.

-"Them" who?!-. Daera roars, pushing him again by the chest.

-The law breakers!-. Aemond roars back, seeing blurry due to all of his tears. His wife sighs, breathless, nearly confused, looking at his eye-. You are your father's daughter, no doubt!-, he scoffs, bemused-. Your uncle was coldly murdered today for telling the truth and you- you- you- YOU JUST DON'T CARE!-. The prince accuses with a loud desperate roar, which echoed along the whole island.

Kalistrox roared, menacing, and within a second, Daera did so too.

-HE brought that to his fucking self!-. She yells with her eyes big open, not doubting of her words, remembering all the insults towards her family-. He was reckless!-, she hisses.

-HE WAS TRYING TO SAVE HIS HOUSE!-. Aemond screams, and she scoffs, blinkless-. A house you make fucking part of!! How can you be so cruel?!-, the prince yells, soaked in tears of despondent.

-It is not cruel to protect my family, nor is defending it!-. She instantly defends herself, steady, taking a step forwards-. And if some cunt has to die for that to be achieved, then the cunt must fucking burn!-. Daera roars with fierceness, tilting her head to a side.

Aemond opens his mouth, speechless, his heart almost stopping. Daera sees that face of him, and laughs.

-Ow please, PLEASE, spare the fucking act, husband!-. She hissed from a moment to another, making him to flinch-. Am I my father's daughter? Very well, then you are your mother's fucking son!-. The princess spat her words with poison and quickness, not taking any breath-. Little you talk about your stupid brother! That bloody useless rapist!-. She roars, shaking the arms in where she has the long ugly wounds the same rapist left in her-. Little you talk of the craven your mother is, hiding beneath her cloak all of her son's monstrosities, as the coward she is!-. The princess grunts with taunt and no shame, clenching her teeth.

In that moment, the prince became truly outraged.

-SHUT UP!-. He shouted, as spoiled as his older brother, and his wife laughed once again, taunting him, proving her point. He will not allow it-. You have no right!!-, Aemond hisses, pointing at her, and not even giving her a chance to speak-. STOP DISRESPECTING MY MOM, STOP MOCKING MY RELIGION! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!-. He starts to scream as wild as a peasant on a brothel. His wife's face truly started to get sour, breathing everytime faster before all of his screams to her-. STOP FEELING SO FUCKING ENTITLED TO FUCKING EVERYTHING!-, Aemond roared with madness.

-HOW DARE YOU COMPLAIN TO ME, WHEN IT WAS YOU WHO DID YOUR FUCKING SHOW AT THE FUCKING DINNER, YOU RECKLESS IDIOT?!-. Daera exploded as madly as him, hissing with no breath and, once again, pushing him, now harsher than before. Aemond grunts, closing his fists at the sides of his body-. JESTING ABOUT OUR MARRIAGE, INSULTING MY BROTHERS! YOU-

-AND HERE WE GO, defending them again!-. Aemond laughs with no fun, just as she did before.

-"Strong boys"?! Are you fucking shitting me, Aemond?!-. Daera moves her head from side to side, bemused-. Do you know what my father would have done to you?!-, she asks, scared and angry.

-Daera- FUCK!-. The prince yells, raged, feeling his whole body trembling. The fury caused by hearing Daera defending the brats is one that is beyond compare-. That is the problem, that something happens to the ones that say the bloody truth!-. Aemond roars, filled of despair-. They have you...as their fucking marionette, defending the indefensible-. He taunts with poison.

-Shut the fuck up, Aemond-. She warns, raising her brows. His blood only boils hotter.

-No but they deserve so much more of what I said...That fucking whore's bastards-. Aemond spits his words, narrowing his eye, and making his wife to shiver strongly-. I...-, he shakes his head-...I want to set them on fire-. He whispered.

-Aemond-, she gags, breathless-. Take that back-. The princess mumbles, not blinking once, feeling her heart stopping before the nightmare that flashes in front of her eyes.

He, though, dreams with that nightmare to be true.

-I want to crash Jace's skull, with Ser Criston's morningstar-. Aemond whispers, filled with poison, looking at her. Daera gasps, curving her brows, horrified-. I want to collect everything they owe me-. The prince assures.

-I DARE YOU!-, she shakes with rage and fear, lifting up her brows. She, then, wondered herself why she is feeling that much fear? Does she...believes him capable?

-I want to take an eye out of Luke's face-, Aemond goes whispering, singing, almost smiling to himself while his wife gasps stopless, choking with her own saliva.

-If you put a hand in him...!-, she cries, covering her mouth while the tears pass it.

-Every time I see him, Daera, I just wished I was maiming him until blindness, to leave him so emaciated that not even a sapphire would fits there...-This was his calmest tone of the night, yet so bone-chilling, and gross.

-WHO ARE YOU?!-. The princess screamed, attacking him with his own raving question. That made Aemond's tears to fall faster, and his gaze to fill with surprise-. You- YOU LIVE FOR VENGEANCE! Son of a bitch, YOU LIVE WITH HATE!-, she painly accuses.

-AND YOU WITHOUT HONOR!-, he accuses her back, crying endlessly.

-Well that is how you married me!-. Daera points with her shaky voice. Her throat aches, as well as her chest-. And how I married you as well!-, she sniffs her nose, shaking-. Like it or not, that is how we will have our child, Aemond-. She states, weak but firm, lifting her sweaty brows.

Aemond sobs, staring at the love of his life with sourness, exhaustion...and pity.

-No-, he thinly whispers, starting to take some steps back-...No we won't-. The prince murmurs, turning around, and going into the hut, without announcement.

The princess Daera stays in the same place, shaking, sobing, confused. Her mind is empty, and her heart heavy. The heat of the discussion being so suddenly interrupted left her with no thoughts. She just trembles, alone in there.

Her dragon, Kalistrox, keeps flying around the skies of the island with similar feelings. To be honest, The Golden Ray is rather anxious. He is more than familiar with the discussions his rider has with her husband, they are more than usual. However, this one feels entirely different, so different that he just wants for his dearest to climb on the saddle, to take her away from here. Her husband, familiar to him as well, is acting extremely weird. And he doesn't like it. And where is even Vhagar, in all of this, the man's dragon? Far from his stress and madness, he'd wager.

Vhagar did good in flying away, for she didn't witness what is about to happen. Kalistrox, on the other hand -the princess's poor golden boy-, had no idea of what was to come.

After some moments, Aemond walks out of the hut again. He goes with wary slow steps, his teary gaze down, his thin lips pressed. And a steaming cup on his hands.

Daera's legs trembled within the second.

-No-, the princess says, voiceless-. No, Aemond-. She takes a step back, afflicted.

The prince stops in front of her, still looking down, not having the strength to look at her eyes. He opens his dry trembling lips, not breathing through them.

-Drink it-. He whispered, with his voice broken.

-No, no! No, please!-. In that moment, the princess's whole spirit breaks in two, as well as her soul and heart did-. No, no!-. Her throat aches.

Aemond gulps, handing her the cup. Handing her the Moon Tea.

-PLEASE!-. Daera fell on her knees when she shrieked, not holding herself anymore, not even being able to breath properly anymore-. I want to have my child! I want to have my child!-, she cries brokenly, placing her hands in the sand, and gripping it with force.

The prince gulps, once again, keeping every sound for himself, listening to his wife's cry as his heart, too, breaks in a million pieces. But he must do this. She must.

Aemond kneels as well, in front of her, so mechanically, handing her the cup again, pressing his shaking lips. Breathless, Daera looks at him, with a pain and sorrow greatest than any.

And when she finds him there, with that cursed drink, and those sad but "duty" eyes, she let out a sharp desperate shriek, taking the cup, and throwing it very far away from them.

-NO!-, she yelled.

The cup flew in the air until crashing against a rock from the beach. All the Moon Tea ended up in The Narrow Sea, quickly swimming away from all the despair and anguish of that island.

Aemond just blinked, and stood up, walking back to the hut again. From there, he heard his wife weeping, screaming and pleading from the sand with no end. The prince stumbled on his way, and leaned his forehead against a wall, letting out a silent sorrowful cry, grabbing his own chest with desperation, feeling it so heavy, and shattered.

-Please don't make me do it! Don't make me do it, Aemond, PLEASE! PLEASE, I AM BEGGING YOU!-. Princess Daera had never cried so loudly, so broken and ugly, twitching in the sand as she finds no scape from this feeling.

She had never pleaded before.

-...You allowed me to get you with child, knowing what that would mean...-. Aemond's weak voice gets closer again, and she can hear his steps while she cries and yells-...and you didin't tell me-. He stated, exhausted.

-The- THE BABE WOULD LOOK LIKE ME!-. Daera lifted up her face with despair, and a last hope, clinging to his legs when having him in front of her. Aemond stands stiff, with a new steaming cup in his hands-. I swear it- she- she would look only and just like me! Velaryon genes are stronger! Brown skin, curly hair- I SWEAR IT, AEMOND, PLEASE!-. The princess cries with a lump in her throat, feeling almost unable to talk. His lips tremble, while he watches her sobing weak wife from above-. PLEASE!-, she weeps and whines-. No one will know!-, Daera promises.

-I will!-. Aemond's shaky crying voice answered her. His tears are falling on her cheeks, mixing with her own-. And I- and I have the right to ask you this, because I didn't know, Daera, I didn't! And- and I am...!-. He was about to apologize, but then considered it useless-. I want children, NOT BASTARDS!-. The prince stated, strongly closing his eye.

With that, the princess definitely felt any hope leaving her body. Helpless, she is. Has she been the fool, then, dreaming about this? Was she so wrong, as her husband points her to be...for wanting a family of her own? For wanting...his family?

With the weakest will of the Seven Kingdoms, Daera took the cup from his hands, with her own, trembling. She whines shakily as she gets the cup near to her lips, her dry tired lips. Aemond watches her with endless tears, mouth fully closed.

-Alyssa...-, the saddest weep left her soul. And then, she began to drink it all.

When he started to hear all the gulps, and when he heard his daughter's name, Aemond trembled, and he abruptly turned around, walking long steps away from her.

-Aemond!-, her broken voice calls his name. He ignored it.

He covered his face with both his hands, burying himself in silence, only hearing the endless cries and whines his wife is yelling to the skies when she takes breath to keep drinking the tea. Cries and whines from her he ignored, for the first time ever, for four reasons.

He is convinced this is the right thing to do. He resents the image of her and Jacaerys. He has been dumbly fooled into this. He has all the right to regret it.

Ow, Aemond...when you look back at this night, and recall your own claimings and words, how great the price will be to see...that you were wrong.

A sound brought him out of his thoughts. Another cup, breaking again. The prince turns around, tiredly and slowly, just to find the cup all broken in the sand, with not one drop of tea left in it. She drank it all.

And when he looks upper, his remaining breath left him before the surprise of seeing Kalistrox back in land again, purring worrily towards his rider as she, sobbing, walks to him, almost crawling.

-...Dae-Daera?-. The prince calls, voiceless, slowly turning around.

In the middle of thin weeps, Daera is nearly dragging herself in the sand, holding her own belly while she approaches to her dragon with weak steps. Tired, heart-broken, and now child-less, the princess feels she is melting into the ground with every step she takes.

-Kalistrox-, she weakly calls, looking at him beyond the heavy tears on her eyes. Her golden sweetheart purrs with sorrow, approaching in the sand to make her walk less.

-Daera!-. Her husband calls her with hurry, and a shaky voice, as he turns around, and begins to walk towards her with quickness.

Ignoring him completely, Daera sobs as she climbs Kalistrox's wings up, feeling his scales poking against her bare feet, but she endures it with no pain, already too hurted anyways. She sniffes her nose, reaching her saddle as the tears get her dragon's back wet.

-Daera, no, wait!-. Aemond starts to run when he sees her taking seat-. Daera!-, he tried to reach her.

But The Golden Ray is a jealous dragon, deeply bonded to his rider, and so within a second he faced the prince with his mouth open and a sharp broken roar coming out of it, menacing and harsh, seriously warning him to back off just with the sight of his long shap teeth, and the stains of blood and ash in them.

Shaking, Aemond gasped and walked back with his throat afflicted, seeing his wife unfazed by the menace of her dragon towards her husband. Oblivious to it, she kept crying, and held her saddle tighter.

-Don't leave me alone, please, we need to talk this!-. Aemond insists with despair, and then the golden dragon started to crawl in the sand with quickness, getting ready to take off-. No no, NO, DAERA, DON'T LEAVE!-. He pleads desperately, opening his eye big, and walking backwards-. WE NEED TO TALK IT!-, he begged, heart-broken.

But the princess is too weak at the moment, and unfamiliar to her husband's latter acts of cruelness. Is she to fault, by desiring to leave their talk for later? She is not.

She turns around her face, looking at him for the last time. His skin is red, his eye desperated, his sapphire sad, his lips trembling, his voice begging, his body exhausted, his mind blinded. His all...driven by resentment.

-DAERA!-, she heard, lastly, a cry from him.

Afterwards, Kalistrox took off the island, and within a second he rised in the skies with strong flappings, and heavy-hearted growls, listening to the unstoppable cry of the girl on his back.

That left prince Aemond by himself, in Lovers Island.

He fell on his knees when the golden dragon disappeared from the sight of his only eye. In him, a broken cry lashed out from the bottom of his soul. His fists started to punch the sand, time after time, crying two names to the skies.

Daera, and Alyssa.

He doesn't know how many time he stayed whining in there. He doesn't count how many tears he cried, for that would be impossible. He doesn't know how many curses he threw against the bastards, nor how many prayings he yelled to the gods.

One thing is for sure. Prince Aemond Targaryen fell in the sand, fainted by exhaustion. And when he woke up, he woke up in a new world.

One of war.

■ ■ ■

Again, this night has been too long.

It has been barely two hours since the supper ended, and perhaps a little less. The ship of Princess Rhaenyra and her family is already being prepped in Blackwater Bay, for they are leaving within an hour, back to their dear home, Dragonstone.

The princess Helaena is at a room not proper of hers. She is in Daera's chambers, quietly seated on her bed, expecting for her cousin's arrival while she plays with her fingers, silent, always looking around.

The children, Jahaerys and Jahaera, are with their grandmother in her apartments. Queen Alicent is reading them their usual night time tale, tenderly rocking them in her arms as she reads to them. Afterwards, she will put them to bed, and then go to attend to her husband's own night rutine, for he is being bathed, at the moment, by the masesters.

Helaena, as we know, usually makes company to her children while they are with their grandma. But, in this night, after the supper, she feels that something weird is happening, or will happen. Either way, she came to Daera's chambers, for something tells her that it has to do with her and, besides, they haven't talked in the whole long day.

When the secret doorway of the room is suddenly open, Helaena jumped in the bed, immediately turning to look at there. She was not expecting, at all, to find Daera arriving with such a glum casted on her. Her cousin walked inside in the middle of a crying that it seems it has lasted years, and with steps so weak that it seems she is about to faint.

Helaena's eyed dyes of concern. She didn't wait a second to stand up and quickly run towards her, curving her brows, and looking at her sweaty ones.

-Daera-, she names with worries while she approaches. Then, she notices the long red wounds that are placed in both her arms-. Oh- oh Daera!-, the princess gasps, nearing even quicker to her.

Daera mouthed no word and, instead, she let her body fell into her cousin's arms, not holding herself any longer. Helaena wept with sorrow, instantly hugging her into her arms as tightly as possible, grasping to her as if she was tearing apart, whispering her name a thousand times.

-Daera, Daera, ow Daera...-. The older princess murmurs as she hugs her. Daera cries in her chest with no stop, sinked in pain, hugging her waist tightly, not having the strength to talk.

Helaena asked nothing. She grabed her hands, and started to guide her towards the bed. Daera walked with weariness, but was always held by her cousin's hands, which gave them the strength enough to reach her mattress. When arriving to it, both princesses threw themselves in.

They ended up face to face, with the hands of one in the back of the other, keeping close. Red-faced, Helaena watches Daera's so hurted expression. She is in a true deep pain, which worries her endlessly. Too bad with words, she tries to calm her instead by caressing her hair, doing it as softly as an angel would.

Weakly, Daera blinks in the middle of her weep, noticing Helaena's light tears, which came up to her eyes at the moment of seeing her crying. The brown skinned princess sighs, weary.

-Helaena...-she whispers lowly, placing a hand behind her head, to cup it with her five fingers. The older princess, blinkless, stares at her eyes with her lips open, attentive-. You...-, Daera gulps, ashamed-...you will be aunt no more...-. She, then, confesses, falling in a greater pain.

When the news reached Helaena's ears, the princess didn't hold long a broken sob scaped her mouth, one of confussion and sadness. And not too long after, she was crying as desperately as her cousin, the both of them joining the other on weak whines and sour tears, almost like being one.

■ ■ ■

In Flea Bottom, the night life is at its peak. The streets are filled with people who dance, fight, eat and fuck. The music is loud, as well as the laughs and the screams.

People walk all around from one place to another, doing good things, doing what things, who knows. Between all of them, the prince Aegon Targaryen goes with tired eyes, a drunk smile, a bottle of ale on his hand, and a paramour's hand on the other, but we are not to attend to his matters right now.

At The House of The Roses, in The Street of Silk, moans and grunts of full pleassure go through all the walls of the fine establishment, for the whores are giving to the lords and peasants what they live -and pay- for: cunts.

Dyana heartily ignores so much sound as much as she can. In her private room, she covers her face with her pillow, trying to mute the disgusting sounds that are coming from everywhere. Eternally thankful, though, she is for not being among them.

The mistress of the place, Tulia, was true to her word to the princess. No man has touched not even seen the young girl, Dyana, and she has been properly fed since then as well.

Some knocks from the door turned to be louder than the moans, so the girl immediately hears them, lightly furrowing her brows. Shy, she walks towards her door, not knowing who might be on the other side. For a moment, her mind tricked her into think it was prince Aegon, making her to shiver.

-Who is it?!-. She asks, with a nervous tone.

-We come on the behald of Princess Daera Targaryen, who has asked for your presence at the royal harbour!-. The firm voice of a man answered her from the other side.

Dyana blinks slowly, moveless. She gulps, and speaks again.

-Which is the secret word?-. She asks, firmly.

The princess and the girl, indeed, arranged to have a secret passcode for when the former sends her guards to look for her. A word that only the princess herself could have said to the guards, meaning that they were truly hers.

The man on the other side sighed tiredly, and then he spoke.

-Cunny-, he said with shame.

In that moment, Dyana's eyes lighted up with the greatest of happiness and trusts, immediately opening the doors with a surprised chuckle of relief.

And so, the Lord Commander of the City Watch, Ser Harrold Westerling, gives her a soft sided smile.

It was a matter of time until Dyana was walking out of that brothel with only a small bag carrying her few belongings. The girl walked out with a shiny smile on her face, and four guards of Targaryen armours followed her every step with firmness, along the Lord Commander.

This is being watched at, from a very safe distance, by a pair of very cautious and curious eyes. A thin tall lady of exotic eyes, beautiful face, and a long white gown, looks at the girl being scorted by those royal guards. The happiness on her face doesn't have a price.

Our mysterious lady, The White Worm, narrows her eyes as she analyzes the girl's departure.

-An this all orchestrated by The Dragon's Goodness herself then, is it?-. The exotic accent in her voice asks with interest.

-Yes, my lady...-. The voice of another woman answers behind her.

-And the bodies of those three?-. She tilts her head to a side.

-...There is burned sand in the beach, my lady-. She is answered.

The White Worm furrows her lips into a very tiny smirk, and her eyes narrowed with curiosity, silently nodding.

■ ■ ■

Not too long after, two wheelhouses were coming out of The Red Keep. In one, go the servants and midwives that had joined princess Rhaenyra from Dragonstone. In the other, the princess goes with the lot of her family.

The sky is at its darkest color of the night, for the dawn is still hours away.

The whole family looks exhausted and weary, and they are not to blame, for this two days in the capital definitely were some busy and tiring ones. They are all sleepy, to be honest, though Joffrey and the twins are straight out snoring, shameless.

Before leaving, the kids only said their goodbyes to their grandma, the princess Rhaenys, who would be staying another day in The Keep. The older sister as well kissed goodbye princess Helaena and her godschildren, promising them to be back within two days.

As a matter of fact, princess Daera was actually asked -dearly by Helaena, and politely by Alicent- to simply stay in the castle instead of going back to Dragonstone just to return so instantly, to not tire herself. However, the princess kindly refused the offer, alleging that she wanted to see her family to arrive well. This is a half truth, for she also wants at least those days to be by herself, aparted from Aemond, to think about all the things she has to think of, and to have her sorrows in the privacy of her true home. She will be returning with Rhaenyra, and then she'll treat with Aemond, already with a cold head.

In the royal carriage, Daemon rocks his son, Aegon, with calm, having his eyes closed. Rhaena's head is on Luke's shoulder, resting in there, and he is with his head on hers, also reclined in her. Rhaenyra has Baela's head near her chest, where she calmly breathes, and in Baela's legs Joffrey sleeps with comfort. Jace, slouched, has his arms crossed, and at his side, Daera has Viserys hugged to her chest, rocking him.

The whole family is silent, at the moment, desiring to be abed already. Daera wears a long-sleeved blouse, rare of her, but because she is hiding the wounds of her arms. Her eyes are lost in some blank point, and her eyes shows nothing but dejection. With her heart broken, and an empty belly, the princess's mind bathes in sadness. She can't take Aemond's words and actions out of her head.

Without her knowledge, Jace is constantly eyeing her, silent and shy. He still has no clue of what happened, before in his chambers, when lust suddenly left her, and she became all histeric, just to then leave running. When he saw her again, when all the family gathered to leave, she gave him nothing but a crooked smile and a soft caress in his back. No explanation. And now he sees a sad glim on his wife's eyes, which has him deeply worried, and confused.

In one moment of the trip, Rhaenyra inhales deeply through her nose, raising her brows.

-I think it will be the best for the babes to go in the ship-. She informs, caressing one of Baela's hand-. The night is too cold, for me to take them in Syrax-. The princess adds, and her husband nods in silence, agreeing-...I shall go with them-, she sighs with a little smile, eyeing her twins.

-We'll enjoy your company-, Rhaena smiles at her. She'll be returning home in the ship as well, not in Caraxes's back with her father, as she arrived before.

After hearing his mom, Luke gives slow blinks, thoughtful. He thinks about how, now without a doubt, he'll be the future Lord of The Tides, successor of his grandsire, the legendary Sea Snake. If he wants to fill his shoes, even though he believes he can't, he has to start with something.

-I shall go in the ship as well-. Lucerys informs, surprising most. Daera got out of her thoughts immediately, furrowing her brows a little.

-Very well then-, his mother agrees with a side smile.

-Are you certain, Luke?-. A soft whisper from his older sister, at his side, makes him to slightly clench his jaw, looking down-. You know you get easily greensick-, she murmured, doubty.

-I am most than certain-. He answers with confidence, nodding. Daera curves her brows, sighing.

-Well, perhaps I shall join you too-. She tries to smile, tilting her head.

-No-. Luke denied within the second, almost trembling. Everybody goes speechless-. I can by myself!-. He stated as firm as he could, not looking at her.

Rhaenyra blinks hugely, staring at her son with confusion, while the others gulped and kept silent, leaving the boy with his decision.

When he answered her like that, Daera simply looked away, slowly. She feels her heart aching, as well as her belly, not understanding why he had to talk to her like that. Why is everybody treating her this way?, her already sad mind complained. The princess looks down at her arms, finding the innocent and beautiful babe in there. Viserys. Daera fights against tears that fighted back to come to her eyes, sour and tired ones. Oh, Alyssa...

Moments later, the royal carriage made its first stop. The royal harbour.

-Alright, this is us-. Rhaena sighs, being the first one in standing up. Luke quickly followed, pressing his lips.

While Daera stood up with carefulness, holding Viserys while opening the carriage's doors, Rhaenyra also stood up, and headed to her husband with her hands opened.

-Hmm-, Daemon hums lowly, carefully handing her Aegon.

-There we go-, Nyra cooes with tenderness, taking the babe, and leaning front to the prince-. I'll see you later-, she whispers.

-Yeah-, The Rogue Prince mumbles, giving a quick lovely kiss of farewell to his wife, who smiled to him with warmth.

-There-, Daera hands Viserys to Rhaena, who takes with with care, hugging him to her chest-. Alright-, she sighs, turning around, and coming down of the carriage with a single jump.

-Wait- where are you going?-. Baela asks with confusion, having Joffrey still sleeping on her legs.

-I will receive someone in here-. Daera informs, making her family to blink with curiosity, except Jace, who already know what she's talking about-. I'll head to the beach from here, anyways, Kalistrox is there-. She reminds, helping Rhaenyra to walk down the stairs.

-Right-, her step-mother nods with interest, caressing her belly. Daera glanced at it for a quick second, gulping.

-See you in Dragonstone!-. Rhaena waves her hand to the carriage, while she and Luke, carrying both twins, head towards their ship.

-See you!-. Baela farewells with a tired smile, while Daemon briefly waved his hand too towards them.

From his seat, Jace stares at Daera with his lips open, wanting to say something to her, anythinh. She, after sighing, looks back at him, and creates a tiny smile in her closed mouth.

-I'll meet you in the skies-, the princess says towards her family. And after her father hummed, she closed the doors with a light push.

Afterwards, the carriage is again pulled by the horses, going away. Baela, Jace, Joffrey and Daemon now are heading to the Dragonpit, where they'll mount Moondancer, Vermax, Tyraxes and Caraxes to fly back home.

The royal harbour is some quiet nice place, where only the sailors are around besides the family, getting ready the last tiny details for the royal family to set sail. The seas are calm, and the sky starry.

Daera stays firmly standing, in silence, crossing her hands over her belly, and keeping a weary face. Luke and Rhaena walked to the ship with the twins, being accompanied by the loyal midwives, Relia and Joveth.

Rhaenyra planned to follow their path. But, honestly, how could her? It was not hard to notice the sadness on her older step-daughter's face. Generally, Daera is good at hiding her true emotions, but at the moment she is just so tired and burned out that she has forgotten about keeping her face masked, which made her step-mother's heart to ache.

-Daera...-, Nyra's voice gets closer, causing the girl to flicker briefly, turning her head to look at her.

-Uh, yeah?-. Daera forces a smile, tilting her head.

-I see your sadness, child-. The older princess confesses as she approaches. Daera opens her lips, surprised-...Has something happened?-, she asks, so softly, arriving in front of her.

The brown-skinned girl blinks with exhaustion, looking down. Her momentary weakness allowed tears to gather in her eyes, especially when she glanced at the bulged belly of The Heir. Six months in, what a marvel. For a brief time, Daera truly hoped she could have the joy of that, of bearing a child of the man she loves. But turned out he suddenly desired he didn't want the same, and made her to...get rid of it.

Daera presses her lips strongly, afflicting her throat with sorrow. Rhaenyra instantly flickered, furrowing her brows with worry.

-I just...-the young princess sniffs her nose, gulping-...I just have been thinking about my mother-. With a thin voice, and a heavy feeling, she says a half true-. You know that I, all of a sudden, am thinking of her...from time to time...-, she whispers.

Rhaenyra blinks, sighing briefly. There are times -most of them- when she truly forget she is not the mother of Daemon's daughters. She has tended to Daera, Baela and Rhaena since they were all little girls, the older eleven, and it would be a lie to say that she doesn't feels they are her own.

But, keeping those thoughts to herself, she draws a small sad smile on her lips, slowly taking the girl's hands in hers, making her to look up again.

-I, too, am always thinking about my mother-. Rhaenyra confesses with a soft whisper, staring at her teary eyes-. I, too, miss her much, days and nights...-, she nods, heartily.

Daera gulps, holding herself as much as she can from starting to cry her soul out in mere harbour. She gives her a little smile, one that Nyra answered with dearness, caressing her hands.

-There would be no problem, at all, if you wish to join us in the ship-. The Heir mumbles with easiness, shrugging. Daera blinks, almost convinced, opening her lips-. There are still left some biscuits of your grandma, and...we'll boil tea, to make them some company, what do you say?-. Rhaenyra warmly smiles, tilting her head.

The mention of tea made the princess to instantly back down, shivering, for she immediately thought about the boiling Moon Tea her husband made her to drink. Now that she thinks of it, it seems that he had already prepared it, before she even arrived and before they even began to discuss about the child, because the tea was boiling as if it had just been taken from the fire.

-Umm-, Daera gulps strongly, furrowing her lips-. Um, no, no, I rather fly with Kalistrox-. She affirms, gulping again, and forcing a smile-. I want to...uh, arrive as soon as possible, to finally sleep-. She lets out a brief giggle, raising her brows.

-Very well-. Rhaenyra agrees with easiness, caressing her hands-. But, if you wish to speak about our mothers, or anything at all, when we arrive home...know that we can do it-. She tenderly whispered to her, taking a step forward.

Daera stares at her with a tired smile, silently nodding. It is not to doubt, that the relationship between she and Rhaenyra changed completely after the day she became the mother of her baby brothers, when she stood by her side in the birthing bed at all moments. Nyra's easiest childbirth ever.

-Thank you...-, the young princess whispers.

Rhaenyra reads her face with the dearest of smiles, sighing in silence through her nose.

-Princess Daera, princess Rhaenyra-. The voice of the Lord Commander made both Targaryen women turn around, still holding hands-. Your ward, princess-. Harrold nods towards the younger.

With him, a young blond girl of green eyes stands with nerves, and a shy smile, looking at Daera. She instantly smiled back at her, while Rhaenyra tilted her head with curiosity.

-Thank you very much, Ser Harrold-. Daera smiles to him, and he nods, also with a little smirk-. You may go now, Ser, I'll see you in two days-. She dismisses him with gentleness.

-Arrive well, my princesses-. The Lord Commander nods, to then turn around, and walk out from the royal harbour.

-Pri-princesses...-, timidly, Dyana bows her head to them. She carries in her hand a dirty small white bag.

-No need, sweetling-. Daera speaks with softness, and then she shares a look with Rhaenyra, who raises her brows with interest-. This is Dyana-, she introduces her with a smile.

-Dyana-, Nyra smiles towards the girl, curious.

-If it pleases you-, she is fast to say, smiling nervously.

-Dyana will be joining us to Dragonstone-. Daera informs to her step-mother-. Hands are never not of need-, she adds, softly speaking.

-We agree-. Rhaenyra mumbles, knowing that there is obviously more story to this girl, but she decided to keep her curiosity for another moment-. Come, let me take you to our ship-. Gentle, she nods towards her.

Briefly, Dyana glances at the younger prince, who nods with a little smile to her. Afterwards, the young girl gulps, excited, and starts to walk with The Heir to The Iron Throne, guided by her.

-Is this all you bring with you, sweetheart?-. Rhaenyra softly asks, placing a hand on her back, and looking at the small bag.

-Uh, yes, princess-. Dyana answers, shyly.

-That is alright...-, The Heir smiles at her.

Daera breathes deeply in, filling her lungs with the fresh air of the night, giving herself strength. Then, she nods, turning around, and beginning to walk in the opposite direction to the ship, staring forwards.

Rhaenyra turned her head for a second to look at her. And, from the boat, Lucerys also looked at his older sister, seeing her walking away without looking back. He gulps, already feeling greensick.

Once again, Daera is now walking through the beach, with the wind blowing all her hair and skirt as she walks forwards at all times. Tears are rolling her cheeks down, again, but her face is made of stone, and her jaw clenched.

Little does she knows what is about to happen.

Kalistrox growls with familiarness as he sees her approaching, already offering her his wing.

Little does she knows this is not the worst pain she had felt.

Daera breathes with steadiness as the tears roll down her face, and she takes seat in her saddle, fiercely.

Little does she know that she has yet to have the most painful loss of her life.

Luke sees at the sails hoisting. Rhaena cooes the twins with a smile. Rhaenyra rubs her belly. Baela caresses Moondancer's neck. Daemon smirks when he sees Caraxes. Jace mounts Vermax with confidence. Helaena brushes her hair in her balcony. Jaehaerys babbles in her knees. Rhaenys sleeps in her chambers. Aemond lies, fainted, in Lovers Island.

Little does she knows...how stained her hands will be.

Kalistrox let out a sharp mighty roar when he rised in the skies with power, flapping his big golden wings as his rider holds her saddle with force and strength, going with her lips opened, and her eyes tearfully serious.

When that mighty roar shook the city, the people of King's Landing looked up, the people in The Dragonpit looked up, the people of The Red Keep looked up, and the people in the royal ship did so too.

And, while everyone looked at The Golden Ray soaring powerfully in the skies, The Rogue Princess turned her head to look only at one place, to the castle. She wrinkled her lips, gulping her sour sad tears, thinking about The One-Eyed Prince.

Then the storm broke, and the dragons danced.

■ ■ ■

#house of the dragon #the dance of the dragons #aemond targaryen #targaryen #aemondtargaryen #the one eyed prince #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen fanfic #if villain bad why hot #daera targaryen #oc x aemond targaryen #original writing #jacaerys targaryen #lucerys velaryon

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aylixrum · 7 months

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"A heartless creature is a loveless creature, and a loveless creature is a beast."

#hotd #house of the dragon edit #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon #hotd oc #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #my ocs #edit: mine #tale: perish and surge #oc: vaenna nartaelos #oc: house nartaelos #oc x aemond targaryen #oc appreciation #not my quote

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 6 months

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Pearl of The Realm

Aemond x wife!reader | HOTD Big Bang!

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

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

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

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

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A man who had so repeatedly, let them down.

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

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

But there was one duty he had yet to perform.

Taking a wife.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For duty. For family.

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

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

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

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

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

They faced each other as the Septon spoke.

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

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

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

“With this kiss I pledge my love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are the celebrations to your liking, wife?”

He smirked, testing the title on his tongue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A warning.

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

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

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

Her husband may have thought a bed a peaceful thing.

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

“You need not be so afraid.”

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

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

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

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

Husband.

He felt his cock become impossibly harder.

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

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

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

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

“Leave that on.”

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

But he didn’t say anything else.

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

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

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

Aemond furrowed his brows.

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

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

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

“Come here.”

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

“Are you afraid of me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If there is pain, you must tell me.”

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

“Come. Lay on the bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Relax.”

She tried to do as he said.

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

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

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

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

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

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

To touch her intimately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I apologise-"

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

Her breath quickened.

Feel?

"Feel how I touch you here -"

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

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

"How does it feel?" He asked.

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

"Strange…pleasantly so."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ - Aemond - I’m - ”

Aemond.

The way she called him by his name.

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

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

“That was your peak, little one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You are beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

They were the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The affection in his words made her stomach roll.

“You are my wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aemond.”

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

“I am alright.”

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

She saw that he had been holding back.

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

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

“Put your legs around me.”

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

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

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

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

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

Little pearl.

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

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

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

"Answer me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He leaned over, changing the angle yet again.

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

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

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

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

"Husband - "

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aemond only smiled down at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aemond Targaryen was nothing if not dutiful.

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

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multific · 4 months

Text

Of Lit Fire and Silk Sheets

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Aemond arrives back to his room late at night, when you are already long asleep.

When Aemond came into your shared bedroom it was already very late.

His duties as Prince kept him up almost all day, barely allowing him to take a break or even eat.

Aemond let out a long sigh as he took off his jacket.

The fireplace in his room was lit, illuminating the room.

On his bed, you slept.

You, his beautiful wife.

Aemond stopped by the end of the bed and looked at you. He has seen you sleeping plenty of times, but he was always right next to you, or he was too tired and went to sleep immediately as he got back.

But now, even if he was tired, he still took a moment to just stop and look at you.

You looked breathtaking, the warm light from the fire illuminated your face and shoulder as you slept on your side, facing his empty side. Your arm reaching towards his side, trying to find him but failing.

Aemond allowed a small smile to form.

Oh, how you both hated the idea of being married, and yet here you both were, completely and undeniably in love.

Aemond could still recall the moment your eyes turned from hatred to the soft look that you now have for him.

He could also recall the moment he realized he was in love with you when a Lord dared to speak ill of you and as a result, lost his head.

Aemond takes no chances when it comes to you, his wife.

He believes it is his duty to fully protect you from anything. Let that be his own family, a few lords with choice words or even himself.

Aemond takes no chances, much like a predator, he prefers to act first and think next.

He didn't use to be like that.

He was always very calculated, just not when it came to you.

Love, as they say, is a stronger force than anything, greater than fear or even dragons.

You stirred slightly in your sleep and Aemond moved. Removing his clothes and putting on the comfortable pants and shirt he preferred to sleep in, he quickly moved back to you and laid down.

His muscles relaxed against the silk sheets and comfortable pillows.

He wanted to pull you closer, but he was afraid to wake you.

Aemond just laid there, watching you sleep as he contemplated his next move. He knew he would not be able to sleep fully without having you in his arms or have you closer.

But he didn't have to, you instinctively still asleep, moved closer to him, placing your hand on his chest as you continued to sleep.

Aemond let out a long sigh as he closed his eyes. He felt you moving beside him as you soon placed your head on his chest, got comfortable under the covers and fell right back to sleep.

His hand moved to find yours on his chest as he fell asleep.

Not even the howling wind outside would hurt you, he will make sure of it.

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helaelaemond · 7 months

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Honey on my Tongue - Aemond x reader

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x betrothed reader

Summary: You’ve been betrothed to Aemond, and he has shown little interest in you during your engagement. It hurts so much, for your heart yearns for him. You can't hold it back any longer

Slightly possessive Aemond. Suggestive situations.

Rating: T

Word count: 1.9k

"Would my lady care to dance?"

You look at the hand held out to you, and glance up at Prince Aegon. He grins down at you, and you take his offer graciously. "Thank you, my prince."

Next to him, the princess watches you curiously, and opposite her, your betrothed, Prince Aemond, keeps his one eye fixed on his brother.

"I think we have an audience," you say quietly, smiling.

"Just as I like," Aegon jokes. His hands are sure against you as you begin the simple dance, stepping in time to the music. At every opportunity, he presses himself closer than is proper. It should bother you - but at least you're getting attention from one prince.

"I do wonder about you sometimes," you tell him when steps bring you closer.

Walking in the correct steps around you, Aegon flashes you another grin. "I am on your mind often, then?"

You can't help but roll your eyes. "When you say things like that, a certain curiosity is sparked."

"And is that a curiosity you wish to be satisfied?"

The wine they serve in the Red Keep is stronger than you're used to, and with it brings a boldness that is also foreign. "Is curiosity the only thing you can satisfy?"

He laughs loudly. "Gods, I am sure you think about that often! Should your curiosity ever grow too great to bear, you come and find me."

"And what of your wife?"

Taking your hand, he glances over your shoulder at sweet Helaena, and shrugs. "What of her?"

"How often do you dishonour her?"

"Where there is no love, there is no dishonour. Perhaps you would do well to remember that."

You raise your eyebrow at his implication. There is mirth in his pretty eyes. "Do you think I am destined for an arrangement where love will not flourish?"

Again, Aegon holds you closer than is proper, and his lips are closer to your ear. "My brother is a warrior and a scholar, not a lover. How warm can steel be in a marriage bed?"

There is a tightness in your chest at his words. Perhaps he means only to be charming, to be suggestive, or perhaps he is deliberately cruel. But it is not the elder brother who gives you butterflies. You glance over at your betrothed, and the ice of his glare makes you shiver.

"My lady?" Aegon asks. You've stopped dancing.

"Ah. My apologies, my prince. I think the wine is stronger than I am used to."

"All the better," he answers quietly, and he winks at you. "Should you desire oblivion this night, come to my chambers."

Your face is close to his, and you smile up at him. "I think not, my prince. Perhaps your hand is more curious than I."

Why did you say that? What in the world made you say that? His jaw hangs open in shock at your boldness, and a blush spreads across your cheeks and down your neck. You return to the table where Aemond and Helaena are sat, and where their mother and grandfather talk together quietly.

"Please excuse me, my queen, my Lord Hand. I think I might retire for the night."

Queen Alicent looks at you, and then at Aegon behind you, her eyes wide and searching. "Are you well, my dear?"

"Just a slightly sore head, Your Grace. Nothing a good sleep will not remedy."

Her smile is tight. "Do not hesitate to send for the maester should you need him. Sleep well, my dear."

You curtsey, and turn to do the same in Helaena and Aemond's direction. "My princess, my prince."

Helaena smiles at you, and Aemond's face is as cold as before. You sweep past Aegon on your way to the door, and ignore how he tries to reach for your hand as you pass him.

Out in the corridor, you lean against the cool stone wall, and try to hold back your tears. The soldiers either side of the hall doors keep their gazes forward. You clamp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to stay silent. How much distaste looked at you with pierces you.

Since you met him, you have felt a draw to him. Sometimes, you have even managed to make him smile enough to laugh. Each time, the queen had looked so pleased. He doesn't seem to laugh often, but you bring that out in him. What a prize. And then, other times, he barely pays you any mind. He doesn't strike up conversations with you unless you speak first. He doesn't invite you to dance.

Those moments with him are precious to you. To him, they don't seem to matter in the slightest.

Meanwhile, Aegon throws himself at you like a whore. Perhaps, one day, you'll take him up on the offer - if for no other reason than to feel something. To close your eyes under his touch and imagine Aemond. Anything is better than this loneliness, surely.

You have to get out of here. As weak as your legs feel, you overcome the desire to crumple, and quickly, you begin walking down the corridor towards your rooms. Until you are married, your rooms are far from the royal quarters - quite a trek through the maze of the Red Keep. The doors to the hall where you have just had dinner with the royal family swing open and then closed, and footsteps join yours.

"Wait!" a command is barked. "My lady."

You ignore the order. Your betrothed is not yet your lord husband - he does not command you. Well, as a prince, he does. But the tears have begun to stream, hot and thick, from your eyes, and surely that will disgust him.

"My lady!"

Even Prince Aemond's harsh voice brings butterflies to your stomach. His gait is far longer than yours. You won't disgrace yourself by running like a child from him, and so he quickly catches up with you. As you walk quickly, he matches his steps to yours.

"You have no respect, do you, my lady?"

Furiously, you wipe your cheeks. "I have respect."

"Then stop when you are commanded."

"The command itself is not respectful. I wish to retire."

"And I wish to speak with you."

The wine. Blame the wine. "That is quite unusual."

He grabs your arm and pulls you into a shadowy alcove. "Do you deliberately wish to displease me?"

You try to wrench your arm from his hold but he's too strong. "There is nothing deliberate about it, but it seems it is the only feeling I can inspire in you."

He stares at you through the shadows, his purple eye searching, cold, and his jaw set. "And here I had thought you were intelligent."

"Do you often think of me?" Your voice is laced with accusation.

"More than you know."

"I know nothing."

"On that much, we agree."

You try to pull out of his hold again, but his slender hand is impossibly strong, a vice around your bicep. "What do you want from me, my prince?"

"Dignity."

"What, pray tell, have I done that you deem undignified?"

His lip curls slightly. He pulls you closer to him. "You danced with him."

"He is your brother - it would be shameful to decline his invitation."

"And what of his other invitations? Do you accept those?"

Your stomach drops, and your eyes widen. "I know not of what you speak," you lie.

"He is a lecherous beast, not worthy of my sister, not worthy of-"

"Of whom?" you challenge.

His lips pull back over his teeth for a moment. The dim light makes shadows sharp across his angular face. Gods, he is beautiful. Even in rage, he is beautiful. And you do not fear him. You only fear his indifference. "You are my betrothed. I expect you to act as such."

"And how ought you act as my betrothed?"

"As I see fit," Aemond says, each word slow and deliberate.

"What of my expectations?"

He glares down at you. Gods, he's tall. It makes you weak. "What expectations do you have?"

"That my betrothed at least pretends to like my company."

That makes his spine straighten. The hand on your arm loosens slightly, and to your surprise, it trails up your shoulder and lightly touches your throat. It's impossible to breathe under such sudden tenderness. You can feel the callouses on his palm. "Pretend?" he echoes.

You nod stiffly. "I do not need to pretend. You know I enjoy your company. Too much, I think."

"Too much?"

"Don't. Do not do that."

Aemond's eye watches as his finger touches the base of your throat in the soft spot between your collarbones. It's where he gently feels your pulse. It's so quick. "Do what?"

"Do not pretend that you are unaware of my feelings."

"There is no pretence. I know not."

You push his hand away, although the touch has made your skin rise in goosebumps from your thighs to your scalp. "Then you are as blind with one eye than with none."

He snorts humourlessly. "Elucidate for me."

The wine, the wine, the wine. You shove his chest and he stumbles back, caught unawares. "I like you a great deal. And it agonises me that you do not feel the same. It is a humiliation!"

Swallowing thickly, Aemond's expression softens. "Aegon makes you laugh. I do not."

"Aegon is a fool, and makes me laugh as such. But I do not... I do not care... like I do... for..."

"You care?"

You could hit him, you really could. "If you could not tell by now, then we shall never make one another happy."

When you turn away to walk off, he catches you again, and suddenly he pulls you tight against his tall frame, and his arms are around your back, and his face is close to yours. "You make me laugh, my lady."

"I make many people laugh. You could make me a royal fool."

"Do not say such things," he hisses, anger flashing again. "You're my betrothed. Mine."

"I do not want to belong to you like a book or sword."

"Yes, you do." He leans down and whispers against your ear. "You are mine, and mine alone. I am sorry that you did not know that until now."

"Do you say this out of pride or love?" you ask, more bravery in your voice than you truly feel.

"My love is proud. And so too is my betrothed."

"Pride does not drive me, my prince. Only love."

"Do you love me?" he murmurs. It is good he is too close to look at. If he faced you, you would not have the strength to answer.

"I do."

"Not Aegon?"

"No."

He kisses under your ear. You whimper. His voice is so silky. "You will not dance with him again."

"Will I dance with you?"

"Every night until we are wed."

As he winds his arms tighter around you, you press a hand into his hair. "And once we are married?"

"We shall have no time for dancing. I shall have no mind for anything but possessing you."

"You want to possess me?"

He kisses your skin. "Entirely. For already, I am yours."

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x y/n #mine #aemond targaryen

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daemontargaryenwhore · 5 months

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"two scared children spouting oaths they didn’t understand. all that was left of the mighty house targaryen."

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randomdragonfires · 26 days

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I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife.

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age.

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved.

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love.

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens.

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did.

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to.

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride.

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought.

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband?

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance…

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him.

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them.

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was.

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her.

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get. Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately.

How she wished it was her.

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals. Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?” she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?”

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now.

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut.

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger, it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face.

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him.

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these, he needed a champion too.

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife.

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor.

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit.

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife.

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron.

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive.

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him?

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there.

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked.

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.

Oh yes, their marriage had grown.

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either.

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige.

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do.

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own.

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened.

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.”

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care.

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears.

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into.

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up.

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?”

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.”

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full.

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind.

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips.

“Thank you, for everything.”

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did.

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago.

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria.

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries.

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said.

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored.

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself.

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim.

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed.

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally.

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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queers-gambit · 7 months

Text

You Might Think It's Foolish

prompt: meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time creates anxiety, so, you stick to his side. at dinner, his mother calls out your clinginess - and Aemond doesn't defend you. or when someone else calls you clingy and he doesn't defend you / agrees with them.

pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: short and to the point, angst, hurt and no comfort, drama, relationship angst, stand alone, cursing, toxic family, toxic relationship...? barely edited, author's tired of her drafts.

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

Fall. Autumn. A time of shedding the old and preparing for the new. Perhaps that was why this happened - the universe was trying to shed what was unwelcome in your life. Yet you wouldn't see it this way for several long months.

The trees grew over the winding backroads in a curved canopy; creating a golden tunnel for visitors to pass through on their way to remote destinations. You were no exception, cruising at a leisure speed while taking slow, deep breaths to attempt to soak in the beauty autumn in the Northern Hemisphere brought. It was impossible not to feel enraptured by the serenity of the country roads, music set so you could hear it but still have a conversation if you wanted.

Your passenger princess told you it was the next right.

"I can't believe we're late," you whispered, sighing in strained stress. "This is a horrible first impression, Aemond."

"We won't even be the latest," he smirked.

"Doesn't matter, it's still rude to show up when the party's already started."

"We were busy."

"You were getting a new tattoo," you deadpanned.

"Exactly as I said - busy. And you got your third ear piercing, so, I don't want t'hear it."

You swallowed, making the right turn. "That's the house?" You gawked.

"Mhm," he gazed out his window, "welcome to the Targaryen Manor, princess."

"I forget you're from old money," you muttered, finding a suitable parking space and pulling in. You gathered your belongings, including the flowers from the backseat you insisted on bringing for his mother, and vacate the car.

"You're gonna be fine," Aemond smirked, tossing his arm around your neck as you moved up the walkway. "Just be yourself, laugh at their jokes - you'll fit right in."

"I feel like I can't even afford to be here," you whispered, approaching the front door. He chuckled and took your hand, letting you squeeze it tight as he opened the door and lead you inward. "Jesus, Mary Mother, and Joseph," you gaped, eyes bugging wide as the interior.

The term "fancy" didn't even begin to cover it.

And Aemond just smirked at you, amused by your response; knowing your family grew up without money and the nicest thing you owned for years was a Wii that had been purchased from a family-friend for a third of the price. So to see you here, amongst luxury and money, was an absolute treasure to him.

However, that was short lived, because the next thing you noticed was the amount of people milling around. There was at least 13 different people in sight, and for some reason, you knew there was likely many, many more. Aemond lead you into the kitchen, and from there, you could barely keep up.

First, you met his mother, Alicent. She was a kind woman, but stoic and calculating; observant with a quick wit. She intimidated you, made you feel small, burned you under her stare; and since you were dating her favorite child, you knew she was scrutinizing you. You felt desperate for her approval, and when you offered her the large bouquet of flowers, she actually let her lips twitch in a small smile. She thanked your generosity and consideration, making you feel like you had some kind of breakthrough with her.

When Alicent went to put the flowers in water, Aemond assured he thought his mother "adored" you before introducing you to his father - the birthday boy. He was sweet; soft spoken and bright-eyed; all too happy to have a conversation with you. He asked how you and Aemond met, then what you were studying in university, if you liked it, what you wanted to do with your degree. He asked what food was your favorite, if you played sports, about your family, and if you had any hobbies. Viserys Targaryen had a kind soul, making you wonder how he and Alicent remained married.

Though they say opposites attract.

Aemond showed you around the house, stopping to introduce family members; then heading to the backyard where you were drug around to meet the hundred other family members. You were close to tears the whole time, knowing it was his father's birthday, but not knowing how bloody big his fucking family was - and that they'd all show up today. You felt blindsided, it felt like a deliberate withholding of information to convince you to come. You were under the impression it was a family dinner, but now, you understood, it was an actual celebration.

There was people everywhere you looked, everywhere you turned. Voices spoke over one another, children ran around playing tag or jumping on a trampoline; babies cried and screamed, the grill was loud with sizzling meats, and a radio played through intermittent static. Multiple dogs ran around, trailing mud everywhere, even going as far as to shake their coats out to shower bystanders. The smell of charcoal, smoke, and chlorine mingled with that tangy-good scent of BBQ; but it made your eyes sting.

It was a sensory overload.

It was a miracle you hadn't burst into tears yet, but you remained anchored to reality by maintaining a close proximity to Aemond.

You held his hand in a vice grip. You held his bicep with a curled-grip that left fingernail indentations in his skin through the fabric. You held his waist, belt loops, anything you could grab onto in a possessive grip. You constantly touched him to reassure yourself he was still with you; being your anchor to reality, tangible and real since your anxiety drowned you in a sea.

You didn't think it was an issue. Didn't think anyone would notice, so you obviously didn't think anyone would care if they DID notice. You liked touching Aemond, it kept you grounded; if someone had an issue with that, it was 100% just a personal problem. However, plenty of people did notice, and when you sat down for dinner, you were unprepared for the ambush.

Conversation was flowing; food passed around and utensils scraped plates. Drinks sweat into the table cloth, citronella candles twinkled, and laughter was in an abundance as each person found merriment in their family. You were feeling more relaxed, but the truth was, there was so many people here that you felt nauseous enough to only take a few small bites from your plate.

Aemond noticed and met your eyes, subtly opening his hand to you in an offer for comfort. You all but snatched his hand into yours, smiling in thanks as he only smirked broadly and continued eating. You tried to sample what you could, but it was impossible to stomach much of anything. You reached for your water, took a sip, and heard Alicent question your name.

When she had your attention, Alicent asked, "Have you had many boyfriends, dear?"

"Oh, no," you answered honestly, "no, I've gone on dates but Aemond's," you laid your free hand to his bicep, sliding down to take his hand with yours, "my first boyfriend."

She hummed and stabbed her fork into the salad set in front of her, muttering in a lower tone, "Then I guess I can overlook it all."

You cocked your head, setting your glass down, wondering, "Overlook what?"

"The clinginess," she shrugged, reaching for her wine glass. "You've been stuck to his side all day - never even parting to go to the restroom, it seems. So, because he's your first, I can overlook all this... For now."

Your head began to spin like in a bad cartoon. You felt your heart cement and drop to your stomach; throat swelling to suppress either sobs, vomit, or both. The entire table was quiet. "I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Targaryen," you offered in confusion. "I'm sorry if I've offended you, but it's not with malicious intent."

"No?" She mocked.

"No," your head shook vehemently. "I did not realize my actions could be interpreted negatively, and I assume you, it was not my intention to create tension."

"Oh, spare me. You haven't let go of Aemond once all night, and even now, as we all sit for family dinner, you hold his hand hostage; preventing you both from eating. Don't you think he'd like to spend time with his family without needing to make you feel included in every single thing he does or says today?"

You gulped, "I did not mean to offend you nor your family."

"It's not offensive," Helaena Targaryen, Aemond's only sister, tried to intervene. "If you feel uncomfortable in any situation, why not seek out that in which you already know helps comfort you?"

How had it come to this?

"I am not offended," Viserys croaked, "I find young love refreshing."

But this made Alicent rage, "It is offensive when you prevent Aemond from actually visiting with his family. It's his father's birthday for God's sake! We don't have an infinite number of them left! If you want to hang all over him when you're at university, fine, but when you're here? In public? Around family or elders? It's not acceptable behavior, especially when you prevent my son from participating as a member of this family."

Your mouth went dry as you remembered your parents did not raise you to ever tolerate disrespect. If someone offered insult, sure, walk away, but they also taught you to stand up for yourself in particular fights. This felt like one of those fights.

There were also vivid memories long since repressed that flashed you back to your own parents telling you, you were clingy. They didn't want you hanging off them, distracting anyone, being an overall nuisance; so they started fighting your fire with their own. They became verbally aggressive, constantly ridiculing and belittling you; attempting to keep you humble by insulting your character - saying nobody (be it man or woman) would want someone like you. Your baggage was too heavy and you knew it, your parents telling you it was why you felt the need to cling in the first place.

If you held on tight enough, the weight of your trauma would eventually anchor your person in place. It'd be too late to swim away once that anchor sunk.

You looked at Aemond, thinking he'd tell his mother to quiet down, but he never did. He just stared at the table, so, you tossed his hand into his lap - feeling disgusting by his physical touch right now.

It was evident he wasn't going to defend you, so, you defended yourself, "I know you might think it foolish, but the reason I was 'all over' your son was because I was caught off-guard by the number of family members who attended today. I was lead to believe this would be a small, intimate affair so I could properly meet his nuclear family, and when I realized that was not the case, yes, I held onto Aemond because I felt incredibly anxious. I cannot control what makes me uncomfortable, but I was expecting under ten people - not close to a hundred. So, truly, if me seeking solace with my boyfriend upsets you, I am sorry, but I will not apologize for feeling blindsided and misdirected - I will not apologize for feeling anxious and nervous amongst such a large family that I've never met before, and - "

Aemond snapped your name, silencing you instantly out of sheer shock; your eyes widening a fraction. He growled, "That's enough, do not speak to my mother like that."

"So, she's allowed to call me clingy, but I can't - "

"I told you to watch your mouth," he seethed, "and not speak to her like you just were. She made an observation - an accurate one - not out of spite, like you want to do in retaliation."

You scoffed, while glancing between mother and son, nodding slowly. You mutely used your cloth napkin to blot around your lips, swipe your tongue over your teeth as you pushed your chair back and slowly stood. "You know what? I don't need this shit. I refuse to sit here and let you speak to me as if you're holier than thou," you told Alicent, then looking to Aemond, "nor will some mama's boy gaslight me."

Helaena giggled behind her hand as you swiped your purse and phone, turned on your heel, and walked away. Aemond sighed and called your name, standing from his own chair, still trying to slow you down by calling out to you. "Aemond," Alicent snapped when he meant to move after you.

"You've done enough," he told her, jogging after your retreating form while calling your name.

"Nice one, Mum," Aegon scoffed. "That's one way to make sure he doesn't knock her up - just break them up."

"Aegon," Daeron groaned.

"What? Isn't that what she was afraid of? Aemond getting too serious with her?" Aegon snapped. "He's finally happy, and you what? Had to implode that?"

Aegon's words sunk into his mother's heart as Aemond rushed after you, nobody untouched by the things he said.

Outside, you rushed for your car while fumbling with your purse and keys. Aemond followed, still. He finally caught up when you made it to the car, his hand whipping you around to face him.

"I didn't fucking mean it," he rushed, holding you securely in his grasp. "Hear me? I didn't fucking mean it, I-I just wanted the arguing to stop, I know how Mum can get and I didn't want it to escalate. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love, I didn't mean it at you - I just - I panicked - I don't know why. Perhaps we're both still very green to this whole relationship thing."

"Oh! Fuck you," you snapped, pushing him off you.

"Listen to me - "

"No, you're done talking," you raged with your manicured pointer finger jabbing the air between you in a dramatic fashion. "Your mother fully insulted me in front of everyone - your entire family, whom I wasn't even aware I was meeting, nor was I even ready to meet!"

"What?"

"I was willing to meet your parents and siblings. Not your entire extended family! You meet the nuclear family first and when ready to level-up, you bring your significant other around your aunties, uncles, cousins - whatever. You ambushed me," you snapped. "You totally caught me off guard - but instead of apologizing and acknowledging my discomfort, you just carried on on your high horse. You let me hold onto you - yet there was no word about being clingy - and you even reached for my hand a few times! Yet I was the one being slandered and labeled as 'clingy'!? But you know what? That's cool, really fucking cool, that's fine. Like I said before, fuck off. I don't need to be with someone who crumples like a wet piece of paper when Mummy Dearest starts to huff and puff. I need someone who's going to tell their mother to cut it out when they're trying to wrongfully insult me - your girlfriend. Better yet? I need to be with someone whose mother doesn't start on that bullshit! That has respect! Decency! Now get the fuck away from me!"

You shoved him back a few steps to give room for you to open your car door and get in - immediately hitting the automatic locks. You started the engine, put your seatbelt on, took one last look at your first love as he tried to plea with you through the rolled up window, then shifted into gear and pulled away.

You felt your anger boil to a new height when you replayed the entire day. How dare Aemond? How dare he try to manipulate this situation? He had no right to ask you to shut the fuck up while his mother was free to run her mouth! Well, first and foremost, how fucking dare Alicent insult and challenge you in such a public setting? How in the Seven Hells had Helaena been the only one to defend you? What the hell did you even need defending against? Why did you showing affection and needing reliable support upset Alicent that much?

Your phone began to ring, and when you glanced at it, you saw Aemond's contact photo displayed on the screen. You ignored it and put your phone on airplane mode, leaving it on for now. However, after a few long moments of stressful thinking, you turned the setting off and called your sister - knowing no matter what, she'd be your rock. When she answered, you told her a simplified version of events, and at the end, your tears had been triggered and she was encouraging you to come over to her house.

You agreed, shut your phone off this time, and drove to your sister's place. When you arrived, you were shocked to find her waiting in the driveway, opening her arms with a pout when you got out of the car. "C'mere," she cooed, enveloping you in her arms when you stepped into her embrace.

"Why do boys suck?" You whimpered.

"Because that's just how they were programed," she sighed.

"Sh-She called me clingy," you managed through your tears, "his mom called me clingy, a-and Aemond d-didn't defend me. So, when I had to defend myself, he just told me to be quiet 'cause his mother wasn't wrong - or what-the-fuck-ever."

"I know, honey," she sympathized, giving you a squeeze. "What're you thinking?"

"That I can't trust someone like that," you admitted. "And if I can't trust them, why be in a relationship?"

She nodded, "I think you know what you need to do next."

"I don't want to."

"Nobody really wants to, but it's necessary," she held your phone out for you after pulling it from your back pocket. "Don't let him or his mother disrespect you - especially in front of his other family members. I mean, shit, how're you supposed to face any of them again after that?"

"Exactly, his mom didn't exactly do it in private..."

"See?" She stared at you while you sighed, shaking your head. Your sister encouraged, "Make the call. This isn't a sustainable relationship, and Aemond shouldn't have to choose his mother and his girl - so, let's just make it easy on him, and you choose. Wanna be with someone who lets his mother say shit like that to you? Who tells you to be quiet, instead of shutting down his mother's insults?"

You frowned, whispering, "I don't think this is enough to break us up. It shouldn't be, right? This shouldn't be the end-all, be-all, should it?"

"No, honey, but the disrespect cannot stand, either," she shot back. "If he felt so comfortable to say that in front of his family like that, you don't wanna know what he's gonna get comfortable doing in more private settings." Tears filled your eyes as she reminded gently, but firmly, "Make the call."

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absurduty · 3 months

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SAINTLIKE | AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : when you, now a Lannister, return to King’s Landing, Aemond ensures you won’t leave.

TW: smut, groping, mentions of anal, penetration, oral (fem receiving), degradation mixed with praise???, creampie, breeding, slight cum eating

CREDITS FOR THE AEMOND PICTURE TO ultravi0l3t on Pinterest!

TAGLIST: @toodlesxcuddles , @imsoshygirl

“Gods, Helaena,” you sigh softly, spraying your perfume on your dress. your slender fingers continue to spray it on your neck, behind your ears and the inside of your wrists. “It feels strangely comforting to get away from all that gold up in Casterly Rock.”

“I’ve missed you, sister.” she said in response, sitting on your bed with her eyes focused on her sewing. "But Aemond missed you more.”

“I'm sure he did,” you say softly, biting your cheek to prevent a smile from spreading. your eyes flickered to the bed Helaena was sitting on. the chambers Aemond had snuck a thousand times in to get some comfort to sleep. “Do you have any-"

“The dragon eats the lion,” your little sister suddenly interrupted you, looking up from her sewings. “The lion is blinded by pride, but the dragon is blinded by rage.”

you dropped the perfume on the floor, dumbfounded by Helaena's interruption.

“Come again?” you asked softly, careful as to not undermine her. you knew better than to undermine her sayings after the time she proclaimed Aemond had to close an eye. “What are you talking about, sweet sister?”

she only hummed, and sprayed some perfume to the back of your knees as you lifted up your dress.

"I will see you at supper, sister." she dismissed your question with a gentle tone, standing up.

you bid her goodbye, your confusion present to what it meant. However, you shook it off. Your boys were with the Septa, Aemond was practicing his swordsmanship, Aegon was doing god knows what...

you readied your hair again, making certain the curls at the bottom were luscious enough. you then headed out to the halls, your flat flootwear tapping against the ground with each step you take.

“Aunt y/n!” you heard a masculine voice call out, causing you to turn your head at the voice. you recognised the two brown-haired princes instantly.

“Nephews,” you smile warmly, embracing Lucerys first. you rubbed his back and asked him how he was doing, to which he delightfully replied that he’s officially betrothed to Rhaena.

you rise up again and turn to the eldest, Jacaerys. you could have sworn you saw him blush, but you knew better than to act as if you know the truth. you engulfed him into a hug, your scent rubbing off on him. “How have you been?”

he blinked twice, his mouth slightly parted at seeing you again. “Good, auntie.” he said softly, attempting to stand tall and noble.

“Good.” you nodded respectfully, trying to brush them off politely. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some urgent business with your mother.”

they both nodded, and scurried off to the courtyard, you knew that if you mentioned you’d be visiting your dear brother’s chamber, all you’d hear are subtle sighs of annoyance and whines disguised as uncertainty.

you treated down the grand halls again, finally reaching his chambers. there were no guards, strangely enough, and you took the liberty of opening the door, entering, and shutting it behind you.

“Sister.” his voice startles you, causing you to turn around. “What brings you here?”

“Aemond,” you smiled, trying not to let your eyes flicker to his tunic less form, stepping a few steps closer to look him up in the eyes. “You are attending supper, are you not?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked gravelly, his hands sliding down to the small of your back. you tried to avoid it, but you felt a small sense of arousal affecting your thoughts. “After all, nothing more than a supper with… family.”

“Aemond,” you whisper, as if he had just said a sentence condemning the gods. “No matter how you think about it they are still Rhaenyra’s. Half Targaryen.”

“Is that what she told you after you confronted her?” he asked huskily, his hands sliding down to your hips. “That her fucking a strong was just, and that they’re still half-fucking-Valyrian?”

“Aemond, stop,” you say in a hushed tone, feeling his other hand run across your stomach area, covered by the dress, unable to feel your full breasts due to the material of your dress. “We shouldn’t. My lord husband-”

he broke off your sentence by pressing his lips upon yours, his tall figure looking over you as if it was a shadow, your face in his hands as if it were a precious gem needing to be cradled.

“Your craven of a husband is out fucking whores, not seeing the absolute fucking beauty he has in front of him,” he murmured between kisses, his slender hands working to unbutton your dress. “But it’s fine, I suppose. You were meant to be mine anyways. Meant to be carrying my children.”

you tried not to kiss back, you really did, but his hand crept up the second your dress was dropped, and kneaded your breasts. then he took advantage of your little gasp as to slip his tongue inside. you let out soft moans, your hand flying to his hair.

“Perfect, rōva mandia,” he coos, his hand once again switching positions to rub at your asscheeks and hips. “After 4 sons, you've remained sensitive. That cunt of a Lannister must have not pleased you enough, has he?”

the only thing you could do was shake your head, placing little kisses on his neck and face which in all honesty, were adorable to him. your eyes looked at him so purely, yet he couldn’t see you as anything other than a vixen born to seduce him.

“Be a dear and show your little brother what he has missed,” he whispered in your ear, and you obliged rather quickly, crawling onto the bed, your tight little back-hole showing for him.

“Hm,” was all he said as he took his time stepping, coming to rub one of your ass cheeks as he took a look at your tight asshole. “We'll have countless nights to do that.”

you were about to open your mouth, before he tenderly turned your body over, leaning in to lick the corners of your lips, purposely drooling some of his saliva into your mouth.

“The gods have made us be together, for they know how we belong.” he murmured in between planting kisses on your jaw and throat. “You belong in black and red. I’ll give you the gold anytime you desire it.”

you grow even wetter at his words, pushing your hips up to rub yourself against his already rock-hard cock prominent through his breeches. the feeling did not last long, as one of his hands moved from gripping the sheet next to your head, to pinning your hips down.

“Oh, do you desire me now, rōva mandia?” he whispered, brushing your nose against his. “I’ve grown, sister. I am a man now. A man worthy of you.”

his lips kissed the top of your breasts, before latching onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around it while he kneaded and pinched the other with his hand.

“Ae-aemond,” you whine, your eyes trained on his bulge. you looked up at him and you couldn’t look more possibly beautiful than now. “Fuck me, please.”

“Patience, sister,” he rubbed your stomach, his other kneading your tits. you whined but quickly stopped once he brushed some hair out of your face. “You’ll be given my cock, but beforehand I'll have to taste your sweet essence I’ve been thinking about for years.”

“Aemond, I need it,” you begged him, rubbing your foot all over his crotch to rile him up. “I need you.”

he only let out a satisfied hum, kissing each toe and trailing up to your calves, knees, thighs up until his big hands spread them apart.

you remained too aroused to properly function, letting out a deep breath when his tongue only took one lick of your folds. what followed after was his thumb rubbing your sensitive pussy, having you let out fast breaths.

“Are you not used to having anything other than your husband’s cock touching your cunny?” he asked mockingly, placing a kiss on your wet folds. “Of course not, my sweet sister deserves to get fucked like a whore, and treated like a princess.”

you let out a whine at his words, practically thrusting your hips into his face. he licked at your folds and used the muscles of his tongue to fuck into you pleasurably. he let out a few grunts himself as if he was tasting the sweetest essence ever known. his hand rubbed up and down your thigh as you wrapped them around his head.

he continued tongue-fucking you, occasionally stopping to suck on your sensitive bud, his big hand continued to caress and massage your thighs, slurping up your sweet taste. you let out the most melodious moans he has ever known.

“Valonqar,” you moaned out, thrusting your hips against his face. he sucked and swirled his tongue against your clit. your muscles clench around him tighter and tighter, feeling something build up in your stomach. your body tensed up as his tongue gave his final thrusts.

“Come for me, rōva mandia, come hard for your brother,” he murmured, his tongue making his final trust on your stimulated clit. “Scream my name.”

you finally bursted, your orgasm washing over your. half of the juice shot down Aemond's throat and the other half drooled down his chin. he eagerly slurped up your juices, before rubbing his cum-covered chin against your breasts, rubbing the cum off on your breasts.

“My sister, my love,” he coos, kissing the shell of your ear. “The best woman to give my cock to.”

he got rid of his breeches and pulled out his hardened member, throbbing with pre-cum. he let out a soft hiss as it rubbed against your entrance, teasing you endlessly.

“We should stop,” you say softly. “Anyone could come i- ah!”

you let out a gasp as he began to began to circle your sensitive button with the tip of his erection. his hands were placed on your waist, pinning you down.

“Let them,” he murmured close to your lips, his unoccupied hand coming up to trace his thumb over your bottom lip. “Let them see how a dragon has claimed another dragon. As it should be.”

you moan loudly, feeling him push his fat head into your throbbing pussy. his cock was much better than your lord husband’s, thrusting slowly into your tight heat. his face cane close again to plant suck and kiss on your jawline, holding your face to the side.

“My sister is too beautiful,” he murmured in between occasional quiet grunts, feeling you deeper with each trust. “The only cunt that’s perfect for me.”

he could feel you tightening around him, your sweet eyes looking up at him. his one eye met yours, locking eyes intensely. your gasps and moans, accompanied by clapping sounds lingered around the room. his hand creeped down to knead your breasts, brushing a thumb over your hard nipple. his hips went upwards to thrust deeper. he could hear those telltale cries of ecstasy, and basked in it.

“You wish for me to put a babe inside of you?” he asks mockingly, rubbing your cheek against his hand. “Of course you do. You’re mine, and once that husband of yours knows his place, we will be wed.”

you clenched around him, juices already wetting his cock inside of you. your eyes roll to the back of your head as his hand rubbed your clit. you looked up at him once again, and he looked majestic and vulgarly gorgeous. his hair sticking to his forehead, not as straight anymore now that it’s wet. you were a sight for sore eyes to him as well, your dark hair messy and disheveled, your cheeks red and your neck scattered in hickeys.

after a few moments, you came undone, spilling against his cock. not soon after, he slowed his thrust and shot his load inside of you, a part of him forever embedded within your womb.

“Too beautiful,” he murmured, planting kisses all over your breasts and collarbone. “You have been mine since we were children. You were meant to be my betrothed. Tis I who has always loved you.”

you only smiled, but even that made his heart flutter and his cock twitch. he slowly engulfed you into a kiss, slipping his cock outside of you.

“My children have taken a liking to you,” you smile, rubbing your nose against his. “I’d love for you to stay by our side.”

“Which I will do,” he replied, his big hand rubbing your stomach. “After all, they ought to meet one of their own.”

you were about to attempt to stand up on shaky legs, but his veined hands cupped your face and slowly pinned you back down.

“Do not clean yourself up, rōva mandia,” his melodic voice ringed. “Let us depart to supper with my seed, deep inside of you. The bastard might realise how little chance he makes with you.”

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ewanmitchellconnoisseur · 2 months

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"𝑨𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒚" (Aemond x Reader)

A/N: I want to first say. I STRUGGLE with writing dialogue in different periods. So if I make this into a fic it is going to take me so long because I will have to read other people's stories and rewatch the show so the dialogue can be somewhat realistic. Hopefully, I do well...If not. Don't tell me shit. I don't wanna hear it. // Divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: You return with your family to King's Landing to defend Lucerys against your uncle Vaemond but he is not the uncle you worry about. Your mind is filled with the man you were once betrothed to what he will say when he sees you, and how he will act. You worry about how your Uncle Aemond will treat you after all this time.

Next Chapter →

Tw: Oral Sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 5.4k (an absolute fucking monstrosity written in a couple hours)

"Would say it's nice to be home but I scarcely recognize it." Daemon hums slightly before walking around looking at every bit of the wall in disgust. Rhaenyra turns to you and your brothers. "I trust you three will stay out of trouble while we go visit your grandsire?"

Your brothers nod their heads as you all take your turn to look over what was once your home. It feels...darker than it did when you lived here, almost abandoned. If it was not for the servants walking around you would think it was.

Rhaenyra and Daemon walk away leaving you and your brothers.

"Come on. I want to see if that hole is still in the wall in the training yard." Luke rolls his eyes at the stupid memory which makes you smile. You follow after them as they try to recall the way there.

You don't listen to their conversation as Jace points out the hole that still remains. You can barely pay attention to anything anyone is saying. Your brain has been in panic mode since the moment you were told you would be returning here.

Scared to face your previous betrothed. You feel someone's hands wrap around yours and snap you out of your thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Luke says softly and looks at you worriedly. You nod and ruffle his hair with a smile.

"Im fine. Just...feels weird being back." He doesn't let go of your hand. You notice as he looks around at all the people staring at him and Jace. It had always been like this, people often compared you to your brothers in how different you looked. How you carried Targaryen features while they resembled Harwin Strong.

Unknown to you or your brothers at the time Rhaenyra and Laenor did truly try to conceive at least one trueborn child. But in the end, it was all too uncomfortable for them. It was only on their second try did they attempt it in another way. Laenor at first stayed in the room alone getting himself just before his peak so that when Rhaenyra came in all he had to do was empty himself inside of her. That one time resulted in you. The only child related to Laenor in both blood and name.

Jace comes and pulls Luke away to watch a fight you couldn't care less about. You walked around the yard looking at the various weapons laid out. You knew that you could fight far better than most of the men here, having been trained by Daemon himself.

Bored by the dusty swords and daggers you turn to watch the fight from the other side. Your heart dropped into your ass as you see the man before you.

He was tall...you always thought he would be. His hair sadly no longer carried those curls that once coiled around your fingers as he read to you. An eyepatch sat over his eye breaking your heart as you recalled the night.

"Get off of him!" "Stop it, Jace!" "Don't hurt him!"

You clamped your eyes closed wanting to fight off the painful memory. You were weak then, unable to help. You couldn't protect him in any way that mattered.

The claps of everyone around you had you opening your eyes once more. You watched as Aemond bested Criston in a duel.

"Well done, my prince, You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys. Nephews...have you come to train?" You see the look on Luke's face and you feel bad for him. He and Jace had spent most of their time trying to learn High Valyrian and barely picked up a sword unless forced to. Aemond had clearly spent all his time training since the accident.

"Open the gates!" Everyone turns to watch as the guards open the gates and men carrying the banners of Velaryon walk in. You walk over to your brothers and hold onto Luke's hands as Vaemond passes by staring Luke down. Vamond's expression only softens as he looks at you and he offers you a warm smile.

The same smile he had given you at Laena's funeral as he took the opportunity to call your brother's bastards in such a sad time. You hear Luke audibly gulp and you try to soothe him by running your fingers over his knuckles.

"Let's go inside." You place a hand on Jace's back to calm him down as you notice the look of anger on his face at the sight of Vaemond.

As you turn to enter the Red Keep your eyes automatically land on Aemond who now wears an expression you can't quite place. His eyes are only on you and for a moment it feels like there's only you two but Jace is quick to step in front of your view and to give Aemond a look you can't see. Whatever it is has him turning around in anger and returning to sparring with Criston.

You walk with Rhaenyra and Rhaena towards Rhaenys.

"Grandmother" Rhaena calls out and basically runs over to her. You follow behind her.

"Rhaena..." Rhaena stands before her as Rhaenys holds her hand. You step beside her and Rhaenys looks over to you. She steps forward and places a hand on your cheek. "You two have grown beautifully." She kisses both of your cheeks.

"Baela said you might be here." Your mother comes closer, each step wary. "She's done well as your ward. You've um... raised her admirably." Rhaenys doesn't look over and keeps her eyes trained on both you and Rhaena.

"You honour me, Princess." Rhaenys smiles softly at Rhaenyra.

"Might I speak to the Princess alone, girls?" Rhaena looks to your grandmother almost for permission. She nods and lets go of both of you.

"Princess." Rhaena begins to walk away. You give your grandmother another kiss on the cheek before leaving.

Rhaenyra smiles at you as you walk away to join Rhaena.

"What do you think they're talking about?" You both look back once more before heading inside.

"I have no idea." You look at your mother who steps closer to your grandmother. Rhaene takes your arm and you turn to her. "Come. Let us go find the boys."

That night it rained and the sound of thunder filled your old chambers. His face filled your memories. His voice echoed in your ears.

"Can I kiss you Aemond?" Your fingertips ran over the dip of his lips as you imagined what they would feel like on yours."You never have to ask Princess."

You touch your lips at the memory of your first kiss. The only kiss you ever got to share with him. How soft his kiss was, how gentle he was. Your lips yearned for another kiss. Your body begs for his warmth and your heart breaks. It breaks at the memory of when your betrothal was cancelled when you knew the future you both talked about would never happen.

"How many children will we have?" Your head lay in his lap as he read a book, his fingers twirling your hair as you pick the petals of a flower. "As many as you are willing to bear me, Princess." You blush brightly which only brings a smile to his face. But your brain always knows how to ruin the moment as a new thought plagues your mind."Would you be angry at me if I had a girl first?" Aemond closes his book and looks down at you. "I could never be angry at you."

You sat up in your bed to the sound of a knock at the door. Your hands roughly smooth over your head pushing your hair back as if it wipes away the memories and dreams.

How can one live like this? How can one continue on in life like this? He is in every breath you take, every time you close your eyes his face decorates the darkness that you simply wish would consume you. You are reminded of him in every waking moment of your life.

Another knock comes to your chamber doors and you know you have no choice but to start your day. You sweat at the thought of seeing him again.

Will he keep to his words? Will he not be angry with you for being gone for so long? For not sending any letters? You did not want to find out. In truth you just want to stay in your chambers all day and sleep, but for the sake of Luke you would attend the hearing.

"The crown will now hear the petitions." Otto sits on the throne as his voice echoes throughout the hall. "Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Vaemond steps forward as everyone looks towards him. Everyone but Aemond. You can see him in the corner of your eye his gaze is focused on you. Never looking away, never taking a break.

You stand next to Daemon looking forward. Knowing that if you even willed your eyes to move it would land on him. And you couldn't bear to look at him.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand." Vaemond then goes on to talk about the history and the days of Old Valyria. You can't hear him, you can't hear anything once more over the beating of your heart.

"Iksis bisa iā qogror iā elekor?" [Is this a class or a hearing?] Daemon whispers to you. He notices your rigid stance and how you're taking in shallow breaths. He places a hand on your elbow and you look over to him. He gives you a look of "Are you ok?" to which you nod.

He returns back to staring Vaemond down hoping he will eventually burn holes into the side of his head and will fall dead where he stands but not everyone is that lucky. It is only then that he notices a one-eye fucker staring in his direction. He shifts his gaze and notices Aemond staring at you. Aemond can feel someone looking at him and looking towards Daemon before pressing his lips in a thin line and giving Vaemond his attention.

"As it does in my sons and daughter, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." You are snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of your mother's voice. You look over to her. "If you cared so much about your house's blood Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful hair." Vaemond holds a look of anger towards her. "No, you only speak for yourself. and for your own ambition."

"You will have a chance to make your own petition Princess Rhaenyra." You look towards Alicent. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Next to her, you see the smirks of both Aegon and Aemond. You know they enjoy this, seeing Luke be openly called a bastard.

Why are your brothers blamed and dragged through the mud for what your mother has done? Are they not innocent in their own conceivement?

Vaemond gives Alicent a slight nod before turning towards your family.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" He speaks to your mother in a condescending tone. "I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it."

Your heart twinges for your mother. You feel conflicted all the time. On one hand, your brothers are indeed not blood-related to your father. But he had accepted them as his sons publicly no doubt. What could he have done for people to recognize them as his children? On the other hand, Vaemond proves a point in matters of blood. But is it not the last names people remember?

They both ride dragons, and they learn the tongue of the dragon. They are everything Targaryen but in matters of looks and blood. But that is more than enough for people to shun them. You want to side with them with your full heart, but how can you when you understand the opposition's points?

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

You look up in awe as you watch your grandsire slowly walk into the room. The only sound was the tapping of his cane against the floor. You had not seen him in so long, he looked so old and different. Hunched over and in pain.

You watch as he makes his way up to the throne and Daemon aids him. Otto moves over to stand next to Alicent and you can see the confusion and anger on his face. His plans are ruined and whatever chance he had at getting the Velaryons on their side is squandered.

"I must...admit...my confusion." Your grandsire breathes quickly as he tries to regain his strength. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession." You listen as he calls for your grandmother to speak.

You feel hot. This room feels hot. You pull repeatedly at the band on your wrist. A coping mechanism you developed when you felt so far away from everything. You snap the band against your wrist as you listen to your grandmother who only further pushes for Corly's wishes for Lucerys to be the next Lord of the Tides. You miss her announcing the marriage between your brothers and cousins.

You can't focus. He is still staring at you. You make the mistake of closing your eyes cause when you open them they are on him. You take in a sharp breath and stare back at him. Your heart feels as though someone is squeezing it, your chest heavy as if a dragon sits atop it. You want nothing more than to go over there but you keep your feet planted.

"That is no true Velaryon." You jump slightly looking towards your uncle as he angrily points at Luke. "and certainly no nephew of mine." Your mother tells your brothers to head to their chambers before attempting to silence Vaemond.

"You can not all be blind surely? To look upon both my grandniece and her sons and think they share the same father?" Everyone looks at you and for a moment you wish you could shrink into the walls, fade into the people behind you. "She even skips her daughter so that her son could inherit Driftmark when it belongs to my niece. She wishes to cover her tracks and erase my niece's future." You've never felt that way. You were never upset at your mother's decisions. Maybe you always assumed you'd end up with Aemond. "Gods be damned...I will not see it ended on the account of this-" Your eyes widen as you realize what he wishes to say.

You feel a heat radiate beside you and notice the body language of Daemon has changed. A hand rests on his sword as his head is cocked to the side.

"Say it." He whispers softly. Vaemond gives Daemon a smug look.

"Her sons...are BASTARDS! And she...is...a whore." Everyone gasps and you notice the heat beside you is missing. You watch as King Viserys unsheaths his dagger and calls for your uncle's tongue.

You then hear a thud and turn and see Vaemond's body hit the floor. His head was cut off at the mouth, his tongue still attached. Much happens in those moments but your eyes stay on Vaemond's body. It is only when your mother places a hand on your cheek you look away.

"Go with your grandmother. She might need comfort."

You stand next to Rhaenys, holding her hand as the silent sisters work on your uncle.

"Did you ever feel that way, little ocean?" You look over to her as her eyes are trained upon his seperated head. "As if your mother was trying to erase you?"

"No, grandmother. To be honest. I had always imagined myself living here, in the Red Keep." You looked around the room watching the sisters move slowly and carefully.

"Married to Aemond." Your quick to look back towards her she offers you a faint smile before turning to you. "Come back with me, to Driftmark. Your grandsire would love to see you and I have missed your presence." You nod, not caring to say that you should ask the permission of your mother and father.

The Grand Maester walks over and speaks. You stare at the body of your uncle once more. Is this justice? He called your mother a whore and your brother bastards...but was he wrong?

"The Stranger has visited me more times than I can count, Grand Maester." You feel her squeeze your hand. "I assure you, he cares little whether my eyes are open or closed." You watch as he leaves. "You should go, little ocean. Your grandsire wishes for you to eat with your family."

"Will you not dine with us?" You brush your fingers against her hand.

"I fear I have lost my appetite." She kisses your head. "We will take our leave on the morrow." You nod before leaving the room with a final look towards your uncle.

As you enter the dining hall your family is already there. The table already has its sides. On the right sit your mother and your family and on the left sit the Queen and hers. The separation hurts you and you wish you could do something about it. Mend it in whatever way possible. You would give your own life if it meant uniting your family.

Jacerys offers his seat so you can sit next to Baela and he moves to her other side. The switch puts you next to Aegon but you do not mind. He has never been one to bother you before, and only ever makes small jokes, which you would never admit to his face, can be funny.

"Mother?" Rhaenyra turns in her chair towards you.

"Yes, my heart?" She places a hand on your arm you smile at the name. Each one of you had one, Jace was often referred to as her love, Luke as her sweet boy, and you her heart.

"Grandmother has requested I return with her to Driftmark... I'd like to. To see grandsire, if that is all right with you." She smiles softly and brings your hand to her lips as she kisses it.

"Of course." You hear the doors open and see your grandsire being carried in. "We will talk more later. Go sit." You walk over to your chair and stand until he is placed in his spot.

As you walk over you look up and see his eyes on you once more. He stands at the head of the table watching you. You sit only when you notice everyone else does and clasp your hands together when Alicent calls for prayer. You've read about the Seven and know only as much as books taught you. You hear Alicent's prayer but you pray your own. You ask The Warrior and The Smith to give you strength, you beg for forgiveness from The Maiden for your thoughts and acknowledge The Stranger, for you both feel like outcasts in this world.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena." It is only then that you feel the weight of his gaze lift, as he looks at your brother on the other end of the table. Your grandsire calls for a toast to your brothers. He calls for another toast for Lucerys as the future Lord of the Tides.

"I also want to say. How beautifully my granddaughter has grown." You feel the eyes of everyone turn to you, and your mother smiles. Even Alicent gives you a genuine gentle smile. "Im sure by your next nameday we will have found a suitable match for your hand. Let us toast in hopes you will find someone deserving of you." Everyone raises their glass.

But it is only Aemond who does not. You watch as Aegon leans over you towards Baela.

"He does know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

"Let it be cousin," Baela responds clearly annoyed. Jace responds but you don't hear it whatever he says has Aegon sitting back down fully in his seat.

You stare forward as King Viserys makes a speech. You return to snapping the band against your wrist as you again feel the heat of his stare. Words are shared between the Queen and your mother before Aegon gets up and sets himself in between Baela and Jace.

"I, um I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask-" Jace bangs his hands on the table before standing up which leads to Aemond standing up as well ready to protect his brother if need be.

Aegon sits down quickly next to you. More speeches go on, too many speeches. You wish everyone would just shut up so we can all be done with this dinner. Either that or let us remove our masks and speak the truth. You have grown tired of this tension and fake genuineness.

You remain next to Aegon as food is brought out and Jace takes Helaena to dance. You can see the look on his face. He looks over your family with a sort of longing. Everything he has ever wanted on display in front of him.

"Would you care to dance uncle?" He looks over to you with a surprised look on his face. He puts down his cup and is about to put out his hand when someone clears their throat. You look over to the noise and see Aemond staring at the two of you.

"Not if I wish to lose my head." He picks his cup back up and returns to watching everyone. You look over to Aemond who only stares at you with no emotion.

You watch as guards walk over to your grandsire and take him away. You make a plan in your head to go visit him tonight to speak to him.

The mood is only spoiled as a pig is placed in front of Aemond. You hear the light chuckles of Luke and curse him in your head. You flinch as Aemond's hand bangs the table and he stands up picking up his cup.

"Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace...Luke...and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise..." And in that pause alone you feel that separation between families grow. "...strong. Come...let us drain our cups to these three strong boys."

"I dare you say that again." You tense as Jace speaks already being able to tell where this is going.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." Aemond lowers his cups and walks over to Jace. "Do you not think yourself strong?" Jace punches Aemond...or...attempts to. Aemond still stands unwavering and not a drop spilt from his cup.

Aegon grabs Luke who tries to walk over to help Jace and slams his head on the table. You stand up and walk over to Aegon and pull his hair, yanking his head back. He releases Luke and only smiles up at you. You put him in the same position he had your brother in, slamming his head against the table and holding him down until guards come and step in between you two.

You remain standing at the chairs as the sides are made once more. You stand somewhat in the middle. Jace attempts to run back over to Aemond but Daemon steps in front of him.

"Go to your quarters. All of you go now." Your siblings and cousins leave but you remain still standing in your spot. You watch as Aemond and Daemon stare at each other silently. Aemond then turns to you and so does everyone else, he looks at you and then hums to himself as he walks out of the room.

"Come little rogue." Daemon puts his arm out for you. You take his arm, your mother pats your cheek and you follow him out of the room.

You sit in your mother and Daemon's chambers caring for young Aegon and Viserys along with a couple of maids.

Your mother walks in and takes a seat next to Daemon.

"I will see the boys home. Then I will return on dragonback." She holds Daemon's hand.

"Just the boys?" He asks looking over at you.

"Grandmother has asked me to return with her and Baela to Driftmark." He nods.

"Head to bed rogue." You nod and stand up walking over to your parents. You kiss your mother's cheek and place a hand on her stomach before walking past Daemon and pulling on the small ponytail in his hair softly and leaving the room.

Daemon watches as you leave with a smirk on his face and waits until the door is closed to speak.

"Did you see the way he looked at her?" Rhaenyra is taken aback by Daemon's tone. He stands up and paces.

"Who, my love?" She rubs her belly as she watches her children play.

"Aemond." He scowls. "He's been looking at her since we arrived as if he wants to take her where she stands. Which is impressive since the fucker only has one eye." he sits back down.

"They were once betrothed Daemon. Before that, they were closer than any of the kids. They spent all their free time together." She smirks at her husbands's protectiveness. It didn't take long for him to see you as one of his own daughters.

"We should discuss her future marriage. Maybe it's time we start looking for a husband for her." Rhaenyra nods.

"We will speak to her about it when she returns from Driftmark. Vaemond was right about one thing...she is being erased...I had not realized I was doing that." Daemon took her hand and placed the other on her bump.

"That fucker didn't know what he was talking about. You are a great mother to her, and she has had no complaints about her inheritance." She knows he's right.

"Nonetheless. If there is one thing I can give her is a choice. She will decide who she marries. I would feel better knowing it's a man of her own choosing."

Your handmaids leave the room once you're finished being dressed for bed. You sit in front of your vanity staring at yourself.

When had you become someone you didn't recognize? When did you begin just walking the earth instead of living on it? When had you become so...lonely.

You walk over to the balcony and step outside. Pulling your robe tighter to your body against the cold air. You close your eyes and though you aren't sure who it is you are speaking to you beg them to help you. To bring you happiness and peace.

"Mandianna" You hear him from behind you. You turn around slowly and see him standing inside your room. You slowly walk in and close the balcony doors behind you, locking them.

"...Aemond..." You move to take another step to him but he raises a hand.

"For as long as I can remember you...Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought of you." You take a deep breath as he speaks. "And now that you're here...I'm in agony." He takes a step towards you. "The closer I get to you, the worse it gets. The thought of not being with you...I can't breathe." He stops in front of you a hand on your cheek. "I'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me. My heart is beating, hoping that that kiss will not become a scar." He lowers his head so he hovers just above your lips. "You are in my very soul, tormenting me...what can I do? I will do anything you ask."

You stare up into his eyes and feel drawn into them. You drown in them putting up no fight. Wanting to feel that darkness that has followed you all these years surround you.

"Kiss me." And he does and it is everything you've imagined. You give him full reign and kisses you with the same intensity that a drowning man comes up for air.

When he finally pulls away he admires your bruised lips and brushes the tears from your eyes.

"Aemond...I have grieved for what we could have been...so much time has passed. And our families have only grown farther apart." He kisses the side of your cheek.

"But what is grief if not love persevering?" He wraps his arms around your waist pulling you right against him as his eyes meet yours. "I have yet to meet another soul who is fluent in my language..but you? You are fluent in me." You place your hands on his chest. "Marry me. In the tradition of our ancestors. Let my blood become yours, and yours mine." You see the hope in his eyes.

"And what of our families?" They would never accept this." You try to pull away but he holds you tight against him.

"I refuse to sacrifice the one person who sees me for who I am for a family who barely sees me for the mask I wear." He leads you towards your bed and sits you down at the edge of it before sitting before you on his knees. "You are mine. You were always meant to be mine."

His hands trail up your legs as a smirk spreads over his face.

"Aemond. We can't." He pushes up your nightgown while kissing his way up your legs.

"I will not spoil you. I will only wish for a preview of what will be mine." He pushes your dress up all the way and pulls down your small clothes. He pulls your legs over his shoulder as he lowers himself in between your thighs.

He wastes no time drinking you up. His tongue tastes whatever he can, his nose brushing against your bud softly. His tongue stiffens inside of you as he finds that place his brother had told him about. It has you lying down covering your mouth.

"Ae-Aemond..." He moans against your cunt in pleasure at your moans of his name. "Please..." you're unsure of what it is you are begging for but whatever it is you know you need it.

He brings a finger to better rub your bud as he fucks you with his tongue. He can feel you clenching and watches as you're soon arching off of the bed holding on to his hair.

The feeling is unlike anything you've experienced. A large opposite from how dark you have been feeling. You feel lighter as if pent-up energy has been released.

He gives your bud one last kiss before walking away and returning with a wet cloth. He wipes his face first before gently cleaning you. When he's done you sit up and he sits next to you pulling you into his lap.

You feel how hard he is below you and move so your legs are wrapped around his torso. You grind down on him and he looks up at you holding on to your hips. The friction against your bud only builds back up that feeling in your stomach. You kiss Aemond as he continues to guide you so you're grinding down on him. He picks up speed his mouth agape.

Without saying anything you reach and pull the eye patch off of him. Aemond stops and looks away hiding his face. You place a hand on his cheek and turn him back to you.

"Gevie." You kiss his scar gently and admire the sapphire that replaces his eye. He returns to grinding you down on him lewd thoughts fuelling his actions. His breaths become louder and you even hear a gentle moan from him.

"Fuck~" you feel him stiffen beneath you. He presses his forehead against your chest pulling you flush against him.

"I will speak to my mother and even my father. If they say no. I will come for you and only then will I fuck you and mark my name into your wet cunt so that they will have no choice but to marry us."

He kisses you again. You taste yourself on his tongue.

"You say that as if the breaking of Princess' maidenheads has not been hidden before. They could easily give me to someone who would not care."

"To that...mandianna. I tell you that idiots are highly flammable...and we ride dragons..." He kisses your exposed chest.

"I say...let them burn."

A/N: This was for the girls who dream of marrying a prince and end up falling for the misunderstood villain.

I have thought of doing another part or turning this into a mini-series at least. But for now, this is just a one-shot.

Shoutout to the Star Wars Anakin monologue that fueled me to write this anyway.

Taglist: @thought--bubble @valeskafics @dixie-elocin

#ewan mitchell verse #ewan nation #ewanverse #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader

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camilbarnessss · 1 year

Text

¤ The Dance of The Dragons ¤

{ Aemond Targaryen }

《 Part 6 》

《 The Invitation's Second Season 》

Masterlist

Warnings: constant swearing, mentions and brief description of rape, explicit torture, explicit murder, corruption, TARGARYEN INCEST [cousinXcousin]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Enjoy your reading!!! Likes, comments and reblogs will be highly appreciated ♡♡♡

■ ■ ■

Within a second, Daera closes the doors of her chambers, immediately laying her back on it, and letting out a long heavy sigh.

-Ohh, fuck...-. The princess suspires, relieved.

Sun hasn't come out and, thanks to various factors, such as the darkness, the sleeping castle, and her polished sneak experience, Daera has successfully arrived to her rooms without anyone seeing her. And, if anyone did see her, they saw a hooded person and not a princess of the realm.

She closes her eyes, longly sighing again as a silly smile grows on her lips, thinking about everything that happened last night.

Her evening with her husband was a totall sucess, as it always is. Their island never fails to grant them beautiful moments of freedom and love, to them and to their dragons as well. By merely recalling Aemond's touch on her skin, and his words, and his consolation for her, she shivers.

Yes, she started to think about her mom in the early morning, when he was sleeping on her chest. As always happens everytime she thinks too much about her lady Laena, she broke out in crying. She had the luck, however, to have her husband right there as her comforter. He'll always says he's not the best consolator, when he clearly is. And to think that now she'll carry his child, that she already is! This was the first time they fucked and she didn't drink no tea, just went straight to sleep. Gods! Does a happier feeling exists?!

Daera chuckles lightly, opening her eyes again, and staring at her lonely dark room.

-Fuck...I gotta take a shit-. She whispered to herself.

The princess headed to her bathroom to take care of herself as shortly as possible. She took her lovely shit, gave herself a quick but nice bath, and then changed to some comfortable and clean night garments. Afterwards, she came out of the washroom, dragging her feet as she tiredly walked to her dreamy bed.

Her evening with her husband may had been lovely, but she's tired as fuck. And the full dawn is still an hour away.

So the princess threw herself on the mattress, sighing calmly, and closing her eyes with a serene expression, planning to have a good sleep.

And then the door starts to be knocked.

-No but you've got to be shitting me-. Daera mumbled, bemused, opening her eyes within a second. The knocks were quick, and insistent-. Coming, I'm coming!-. She grunted.

Uf, she came three times last night, by the way.

Daera opens the door, and she was highly surprised when finding Luke and Rhaena outsides of her chambers, the both of them wearing huge smiles in their faces. The boy is absolutely red, all blushed.

-Daera!-, the girl shrieks, raising her brows.

-Guys-. Daera mumbles, surprised-. Come in, come!-. She instantly insists, and they instantly do, chuckling fastly as they walked together. Their older sister closes the door, looking at them with confusion-. Why the fuck are you vibrating?!-, she pointed.

At the same time, Luke and Rhaena opened their mouths, planning to talk. They look at each other.

-Oh no no, you speak-. Luke politely says.

-No, please, you may-. Rhaena points forward, smirking.

-I insist, ladies first-. The boy giggles, all blushed.

Daera blinks with despair.

-You tell stories better than me-. Rhaena chuckles, elbowing him.

-What?! You're the best story teller I know!-. Luke immediately shakes his head, smiling-. I insist that you must te-

-OH, ONE OF YOU FUCKING TALK ALREADY!-. Daera explodes opening her eyes big.

-Okay I will!-. Rhaena shrieks facing her within a second, and Lucerys claps, excited-. Not too long ago, in the early morning, Luke couldn't find sleep, so he went to Rhaenyra's chambers to talk with her and play with Aegon and Viserys-, she starts to tell, smiling.

Daera nods quietly, with her arms crossed over her chest. She tsks her tongue, looking at him.

-Oh, my boy, why couldn't you sleep?-. She asks, lightly worried, tilting her head.

-Ma-matters don't to the story!-. Her brother instantly shakes his head, nearly rolling his eyes-. Keep telling her!-. He motivates Rhaena, while Daera sighed briefly through her nose, just listening.

-So, instead of just talking, Rhaenyra gave Luke some...news-. The younger girl's voice almost trembled from excitement, feeling her cheeks burning. Daera furrows her brows, curious-. News that he immediately told me!-, she smiles, looking at Lucerys, who looked back at her with a huge grin.

-What news?-. Daera questions with great interest, looking at the both of them.

Rhaena laughs, covering her mouth, and Lucerys smiles, taking a step front.

-Mother and grandma arranged a betrothal between Rhaena and I-. The boy finally announces, proudly and blushed, lifting his chin up. The girl, sameways, nods, raising her brows to the top of her forehead.

Their older sister's mouth fell on the floor, shocked.

-Holy hells-, she whispers, breathless.

-Uhh, hells are not holy-. Luke mumbles doubty.

-It'll we announced today, at the audience of the inheritance!-. Rhaena says with the biggests of smiles, looking at her sister, who scoffed a laugh, shaking her head.

-Oh my fucking gods!-. Daera loudly whispered, grabbing her own head and jumping on her place, going insane. Her siblings laugh vividly, sharing all of her excitement-. Oh fuck, oh my-! This so great, this is brilliant!-, the princess exclaims with a joyfull voice.

Lucerys and Rhaena giggle, sharing a warm glance between them.

-Oh...fuck!-. Daera laughs, breathless, taking the news in, founding it the greatest one of all. She gulps, blinking fastly-. And you are both okay with this, right? Do you like this? Are you both comfortable with this?-. She quickly and happily asks, holding their shoulders.

The most recent marriage of the family was hers, with Jace. The last thing she wants is another forced and mandatory betrothal.

She sees how Rhaena and Luke turn to glance at each other again, giggling so shyly, none of them answering the question. But it is so obvious, Daera thinks. They're more than okay with this. They are...they are happy, and free to be together.

That is what she wants for them.

-Oh...-, Daera sighs with a warm smile, walking to them, and softly pulling both of their heads-. I am so happy for you-. She whispers, placing a kiss on Rhaena's cheek, and then on Luke's forehead.

They smile at her with pride and dearness, easily feeling how happy she truly is. After caressing their manes for a few seconds, she sniffs her nose, briefly flinching.

-And...!-, the older princess raises her brows-, does the others know already?-. She asks, thinking about their other siblings.

-No, not yet!-. Luke shakes his head.

-We wanted to tell it to you first-, Rhaena smiles excited.

Daera sighs with a huge smile, curving her brows, feeling so important.

-Well then let's not wait anymore to tell them! Come on!-. She yells excitedly, shooting out running towards the doors.

-Let's go!-. Luke claps, immediately following her.

-You are still in your nightdress, sis-. Rhaena's calm voice interrupted them both.

Daera and Luke stopped right at the door. He looks at her from head to toe, instantly blushing and burying his face on his hands.

-I'm sorry!-. The boy says, muffled.

-Right-, Daera mumbles, heading to her wardrobe.

■ ■ ■

A fine wine slowly pours into a golden cup, which is holded by a delicate wrinkled white hand. The ilumination around consists of a few dim candles, and the little light that enters from an open window.

Princess Rhaenys, on her chambers, after fetching herself a cup of wine, sips from it with no hurry. She blinks, thoughtful, hearing the silence around her.

-A desperate proposal...but a clever one, I told her-. Rhaenys talks with her characteristic low and calculating voice-...What do you think?-, she asks, turning around.

Daera is seated besides the open window of the chambers, where the weak light of the arriving day is starting to rise, with a greyish tone. Her head shakes a little as she looks outside, with a bemused and proud smile showing at the side of her lips, growing bigger as she blinks, and thinks.

-I think its both clever, and perfect-. The younger princess answers, with not one doubt-. The perfect solution for Driftmark, and the most clever one to shut Vaemond's mouth up-, she whispers with amusement and confidence, shaking her head.

Rhaenys walks with slow steps, holding her goblet of wine while looking at her oldest granddaughter.

-It is the second time a move like this is made-, she mutters, briefly raising her brows. She made obvious allusion to Jacaerys and Daera's marriage in the benefit of the blood assurement.

-So what?-. Daera immediately shrugges, turning to look at her-. Who would dare to question it? Vaemond?-, she huffs, funnily tilting her head-. I trust enought that my uncle will know what's best for him-. The princess mumbles, raising her hand.

-I wouldn't trust that much-, Rhaenys whispers, slowly handing her the cup of wine-. He's Corlys brother, as reckless as him-. She pointed, looking at her granddaughter's hand, which took the goblet.

-Ha-, Daera snorts a laugh, sipping the wine with a funny smile.

Rhaenys stares at the Valyrian steel rings Daera wears in her hands, both with a tiny sapphire gem. She presses her lips, knowing very well who gifted them to her.

-And, speaking of recklessness...-. The older princess mumbles, not pretending her serious gaze. Soon enough, Daera realizes she is staring at her rings. She laughs, with her cheeks full of wine.

-You could borrow one, if you wish-. Burlesque, Daera makes her fingers dance. Rhaenys huffed, tsking her tongue and rolling her eyes-. Blue suits you, grandma, I'll always say it-, she smiles funnily.

-You want to know what I will always say?-. Her grandmother raises her brows towards her. Her granddaughter forms a tender smile, not caring enough of her upcoming reproach.

-...We went out last night-, Daera sweetly informs, playing with her fingers. Rhaenys blinks bigly, shocked-. We both flew on Kalistrox's back-, she giggles, scrunching her nose.

-Where to?-. She immediately asks.

-Sorry, its a secret-. Her granddaughter shrugged. Rhaenys sighs through her nose, closing her eyes, and pleading the gods for patience-. But we had fun, I swear-. The princess nods proudly.

Rhaenys hums, looking away with a downcast look, as she hears Daera sipping the wine. The older princess blinks for a few moments, thinking about the dangerous and reckless secret marriage of her granddaughter. She can't believe its been a year already.

-I wonder, Daera...-. Rhaenys looks back at her. Daera blinks, calmly, swallowing the wine-. I wonder if your lover will be happy when he hears of your family's strategy, in the audience-. She murmurs as low as possible, raising her brows.

-He's not my lover-. Daera immediately corrects, playing with the goblet between her hands-. He's my husband-, she raises her brows as well.

-Huh-, Rhaenys nods, burlesque.

-I know you heartily wish for me to be mad with Aemond, grandma, I understand it-. Daera sighs, standing up of her chair, and walking to her with serene steps-. But the strength of my heart is not not fickle-, she softly whispers, tilting her head.

-I wish no madness from you, Daera, but for your eyes to open at last-. Rhaenys immediately corrects, walking closer to her as well. Her granddaughter sighs, smiling tiredly, really not listening to her-...It is getting late for so-, she slowly whispers.

Daera sucks her inferior lip, nodding. She leans front, placing a tender kiss on both of her grandma's cheeks, sweetly gripping her hands.

-Its getting late, indeed, and I have things to do before the hearing-. She sighs, forming a beautiful smile as she started to walk away, leaving her hands holding the air.

-Daera-, Rhaenys calls her, tired.

-Thanks for the wine!-. Daera funnily snaps her fingers, blowing a kiss to her, and walking out of the chambers within a second.

Left alone in her rooms, Rhaenys sighed, exhausted, scratching her forehead with a tired expression.

When that girl knows her true reality...it'll be hard, The Queen Who Never Was thinks.

■ ■ ■

Daera walks through The Red Keep's hallways, humming a song as she freely goes. The castle is starting to wake up already, mostly servants and handmaidens. There are just a few lords and ladies of the court walking around. No matter who they were, she greeted them all.

Luke and Rhaena's betrothal may be one of the best news she has received in her entire life. When she went with them to tell the others, they went as insane as she. How could they not?! The proposal is the best, no matter from what angle its look at.

When they gathered at Rhaenyra and Daemon's quarters they were all talking so happily and excited, having the biggest of faith in the youngers's upcoming marriage. The Rogue Prince seemed to heartily agree on the matter, as well as The Heir to The Iron Throne. Although, matters to say that Rhaenyra seemed a little...off, perhaps too stressed, of course, but also sad. However, when Daera quietly asked her, she just caressed her face, and simply answered she hasn't had breakfast yet.

Truth is Rhaenyra had a very rough night. The babes wouldn't stop crying because of the loud storm and the cradles they are not use to sleep in, besides, she wouldn't stop crying either when she visited her father's chambers, pleading him to defend her family. Nevertheless, a ill and weak man was the one wheezing at her.

Baela, as well as the others, was also thrilled with the exciting news of Rhaena and Luke's betrothal. However, the girl couldn't avoid to feel sort of...cast aside. No, no, those are not the words. Sad. There it is. She felt...sad. It gladdens her so much to see her younger sister engaged to someone she obviously like, but, at the same time, it reminded her how the boy she herself used to like got married, at the end, with her older sister. Baela is a strong person, mature enough to know what's better and to not let her feelings affect the general wellbeing. She doesn't like Jace anymore, in the romantic way she thinks she once did. However, she simply got...sad.

When Daera walks pass by the training patio, by a first glance she thought it was empty. But, soon enough, she realized there was one person in there. The princess stops, curious, lifting a side of her lips into a smile.

Jacaerys stands in front of one of the tables of the patio, softly caressing the different weapons in there. He sees Criston's morningstar, and touch it with delicacy, feeling its little peaks. He breathes with calm, lost in his thoughts.

-Catch!-, a familiar voice tells him.

Within a second, a sword of wood clashes with his arm. Jace gasps, flinching surprised, but immediately grabbing it in time. He raises his gaze, finding Daera walking to him with a cocky smile, having her head tilted, and also carrying a wooden sword in her arms.

Jace smiles, taking a training position within a second. His sister wife smirks, humms, and then suddenly went up against him, raising her sword. He clenches his jaw, raising his as well, and avoiding her to poke him.

-Are you nervous, about all this situation?-. She asks, with a hand delicately placed behind her back.

The boy briefly grunts, pressing his sword against hers, but she puts too much resistance, making him to force himself and, quickly, destabilize, and stumble when she stepped away.

-Always recall to not lunge without fixing on your opponent's own posture, Jace-. Daera calmly speaks, turning to look at him again. He nods, breathing fast-. Brute force is a fool's ally-, she pointed.

Jacaerys walks towards her, raising her sword again, and now attacking her softer, but swifter than before. She grunts a little laugh, noding.

-I am happy for Luke, and for Rhaena-. He finally answers, making pressure against her weapon. Daera hums, watching at his feet-. Both of them are too poltroon to confess they like each other, so this will help them, doubtlessly-. He pointed, making her to laugh.

-We agree-, she chuckles-. Soften your knees-. The princess whispers. He gulps, doing so, and instantly looking back at her again.

Daera sucks her cheeks, and then pushed him with a single hand. Surprised, he quickly answered, covering himself with his sword before hers would poke him.

-Oh!-, she raised her brows.

-Oh-, he mocked, smiling.

The wood clashed, and they both laugh, starting to fight with fastness, drawing the swords from side to side while they circle in the same place, breathing fast.

-But, yes!-. Jace talks while they fight-. I am nervous-, he confesses, with his chest coming up and down. Daera pressed her lips, glancing at his face for a brief moment-. Anyone who doubts Luke, doubts me-. The prince says, answering as quickly as possible to all of her swift moves-. But he is a child! He'll learn to sail-, he says, convinced.

That is obviously not the main problem at all. Daera sighs through her nose, hating herself for thinking that. The cause of Vaemond claiming the Driftwood throne for him its not because Luke doesn't knows how to navigate. No! Would that be the case, he himself would gladly teach him. Vaemond's cause is Velaryon blood, and the absence of such in Lucerys's veins.

-Jace, control your breathing! You cannot be running out of air that quick! Deep breaths, remember?-. Daera reproaches, raising her brows.

Jacaerys gulps, trying to breath calmer as he keeps clashing his sword against hers. The princess hums, slowing down her attacks a little when she talks again.

-Those who doubt you, are mummers-. Daera raises her brows, fastly twirling on her place, and hitting Jace's knees with her sword when she slightly bent her legs. He tsks with pain, though he is smiling, quickly stepping back-. Luke and Rhaena will govern Driftmark, and you and I will rule The Seven Kingdoms-, she stated, so confident, raising her sword within a second.

-Indeed!-. He answered with pride, grumbling while making pressure against her weapon as strongly as he could.

-The Hightowers, nowdays, think they are the ones who decide and dictate the fate of the kingdoms-. The princess whispers with steadiness, breathing so calmly although pushing against him. Since both of them are so harshly pressing on the other, their chest are almost touching, and their gazes are totally connected. He breathes fastly through his mouth, staring at her purple eyes-, but they forget we have something they do not-, she mumbles.

Jace glances down at her chest when seeing it coming up and down. That was his mistake. Within a second, Daera pulls her sword down, and then harshly up, automatically throwing Jace's away.

He gasps, defenseless, looking at her with an agitated smile. Daera smirks, sticking the sword into the ground, and resting her elbows on the handle.

-...Pure fire and blood-, the princess whispered cockily, making the prince to form a wide grin on his open lips.

■ ■ ■

Aemond is already back to The Red Keep.

As promised, he flew off Lovers Island around an hour after his wife did. In the meantime, he talked with his dragon, in the beach, pampering her old chin, and then organized all the things they used last night. He folded the bed sheets back in their coffer, he put the cups back in their place as well. He cleaned the fireplace, and let ready a new set of firewood for when the next time they go.

When he arrived to the bay, with Vhagar, he found it weird to not see Kalistrox anywhere around. He wondered if Daera was still flying with him, which is the most likely, for he hasn't seen her since he arrived and, plus, he knows she would never leave him in The Dragonpit.

Aemond is walking in one of the hallways of the castle, in its hightest towers. The prince is already bathed and dressed, wearing his usual Targaryen blacks. He's heading to have something for breakfast, at last, for he is literally starving.

As he walks, The One-Eyed Prince dreams about the memories of last night, the lovely evening he had with his wife. After a long day full of stress, jealousy, boredness and annoyment, the sneaking out to their island was just perfect, just as they deserved. She is the person he feels the most comfortable with. I mean, the girl fucks him gladly, time after time, while he is literally with a cave on the left side of his face. So, yeah, the trust is quite big. And he will be the father of her children! Their children!

Before being able to start day dreaming about Alyssa Targaryen, and the other thousand kids they'll parent, Aemond suddenly cames out of his thoughts when, after turning on a corner, he bumps into Alicent, from the distance.

The Queen is standing in a balcony, with her Sworn Protector, Ser Criston. He seems serious, even more than usual, and she seems worried, staring forward with her lips opened and crystallized gaze. She's all in green, as always, and has her hands nervously crossed over her belly, holding them tightly.

-We have hoped before, Ser Criston, in the preveliance of decency, and justice-. The redhead speaks deeply, nearly with aguish-. The Mother, so kind-hearted she is, may keep on helping us on the matter-. Alicent says, briefly raising her brows-...Specially today-, she mumbled, holding her wrists tighter.

Aemond stopped walking right when he saw her. He blinked only one time, with his lips open, listening to her. He remembers Daera, and her deep harsh pain caused by not having her mother with her anymore. The thought always makes him shiver, no matter how much he avoids it. In this moment, seeing Alicent, after witnessing the dying nightmare of being motherless, he came to think...how lucky he truly is.

Moments later, Ser Criston became aware of The Queen's second son's presence. Alicent, by that, also turned her head around. When she finds Aemond in there, steadily standing, she gulped, forcing herself to hide her worriness from before.

-Aemond-, she softly named him-. What are you doing awake this early?-. She asks, glancing at the dawning sky-. Perhaps you could...use some more sleep, son-. She gives him one dead and fast smile.

The one-eyed says no word, and he just started walking towards her with long and firm steps. Alicent blinks, confused for a second, until her son's arms wrapped her body from a moment to another, and he hugged her tightly to his chest, keeping her in there.

She goes into shock, moveless, not having expected that. Ser Criston's eyes flickered, and he slowly looked away, giving them privacy, but unable to hide a little smile on his lips. Aemond places his chin on his mother's red hair, sniffing her soft eucalyptus oil aroma.

-Everything will turn out as it should-. He speaks under his breath, feeling her slow breathing-. You are the justice, dear mother...and justice must always prevail-. Aemond swears, with confidence, and tenderness.

Slowly, Alicent closes her eyes, letting go the pressure on her lips, and putting pressure on her arms when surrounding them all around her boy's back, hugging him back with even greater force. She tsks her tongue, curving her brows, and placing her cheek on his left arm. Aemond closes his eye, allowing her mother to breathe as worriedly as she needed to.

■ ■ ■

The skies are already lighter, and the sun has came up entirely, dying the clouds of a light yellow tone, though everything is still mostly grey. Even though the morning has officially arrived, the bells that announce the beginnings of the royal duties haven't ringed yet.

One of the many gardens The Red Keep posses is placed in one high floor at the middle of the castle. The bushes and flowers are all beautiful, all of them colorful, having little playful sparrows flying around them.

This garden isn't the biggest, at all, but it still has the capacity of hosting a generous amoung of people. A bunch of lords and ladies of the court are gathered here at the moment. And, with them, some members of the royal family are taking fresh air as well. Fresh air is of need, in this stressful day.

Rhaenyra and Daemon are in here, with Baela and Joffrey, the four of them gathered in the middle of the garden, talking only between them, keeping serious appearances. Rhaenys is also at presence, but not near them. The Lady of Driftmark is standing, all alone, at the balcony of the garden, looking up at the sky with thoughtfulness, thinking about everything and all at once.

Alicent, near the middle of the garden, stands with Ser Criston, Vaemond, and Lord Tyland Lannister, each of them silent, and just looking around with their sour and calculating gazes. Lord Larys Strong stands alone, close to them, always keeping an eye on The Queen, and her green shoes.

-I want to go fly with Tyraxes!-, Joffrey was pleading to their parents, jumping on his place.

-Joff!-, Baela reproaches.

-Its still too early, Joffrey-. Rhaenyra says with a tender gaze.

-Ah but it wasn't too early to wake me up?!-. The boy instantly complains. Daemon laughed sharply, looking down at him.

In a certain moment, Aemond arrives to the garden as well, by himself. He came as soon as he heard most of the royal ones were gathered here. He always studies the political enviroments of his home, and boy, isn't this the greatest.

The One-Eyed Prince walks firmly and hurriless between the light crowd, analyzing the people around, in silence. He receives some gazes, but ignores them all. His eye meet with Rhaenyra's, and they both shared a dry quick look. Aemond looks at Daemon, who was looking back at him with disinterest and boredom, soon looking away too.

The one-eyed hums lowly, ignoring them, and heading towards another direction. He couldn't avoid to notice, either way, that Baela and Joffrey were the only ones with them. Where the hell is Daera? It is beyond weird that she isn't with them. When she isn't with them, its because she's with him, or with Helaena, but he knows she's not with his sister, for he just comes from having breakfast with her and the children, a meal Helaena herself expected to also share with her dear cousin.

As Aemond walks, he locks his eye in one white long mane. His steps became slow, for he immediately knew who that was. Princess Rhaenys. He presses his lips, staring at her back for long silent seconds. It should be noted that the last time he saw his wife's grandmother, was the very day of their wedding. As he never flies to Driftmark, and she never comes to King's Landing, they hadn't met during all the year pass...until now.

The One-Eyed Prince humss lowly, crossing his hands behind his back. After looking around, he headed towards the old princess, soon reaching her side at the balcony.

Rhaenys pressed her lips at the moment she noticed who arrived to her left. She keeps staring front, at all moment, as so does he.

-Princess Rhaenys-, he politely greeted, giving a light nod.

-Prince Aemond...-, she nearly sighed his name, dragging it in the air. Aemond blinks slowly, staring at the clouds-. I understand Daera and you sneaked out, last night, as she well told me-. The princess mumbles, disinterested.

The prince couldn't help but to feel a little surprised. He expected, at least, a polite conversation, a fake one of course, but still. It seems Rhaenys doesn't care much about fakeness. Good, he doesn't either.

-Yes-, his husky voice answers-. We had a comfortable time in our own-. He nods, side-eyeing her.

The princess huffs through her nose, clearly pulling a face. The prince keeps looking at her, with his gaze turning slightly sour. He never forgets the complicated position of Daera's grandmother in their love.

-I find it proper to remind you, princess, that your granddaughter and I heartily appreciate your long-lasting cooperation on the abouts of our relation-. Aemond speaks with mannerly-...and to also remind you, that we do not pray nor wish to convince you of its prevailing-. He pointed, serious.

-I remind you, prince Aemond, it is not worth it for you to even try to-. Rhaenys answered within a second, briefly shaking her head, and making her mane to move-. I love my granddaughter, namely the only reason why I force myself to tolerate the relation-, she raises her brows.

Aemond clenches his jaw, looking around as he breathes deep in through his nose. It is stressing, to only have two allies, Helaena and Rhaenys, and that the latter one is just in because of, what? pity?

-I do not know what exactly I have done to you, princess, to deserve such obvious disapproval-. The prince speaks with a sarcastic politeness, tilting his head-. When I claimed Vhagar, that night, it was because nothing but m-

-Please-. Rhaenys interrupted him with a soft scoff. He leaves his mouth open, looking at her-. My mourning of my daughter has nothing to do with wishing the safest to her own daughter-, she pointed with a low and hard voice, shaking her head, only staring upfront.

Aemond furrows his brows lightly, blinking bigly. Safest?

-I have never done no harm to Daera, and I never would-. He heartily defended himself, crossing his hands tighter behind his back.

He obviously lacks an eye, the princess thinks, for he's not seeing the big picture.

-As things stand, prince Aemond, your family is rooting for the victory of Vaemond Velaryon, today at court-. Rhaenys speaks with a tired insistment, shaking her head-. Hers, for Lucerys's-, she pointed, unable to be more clear.

-And who are you rooting for, princess?-. He immediately asks, narrowing his eye.

-It is of no matter to you-. Rhaenys turns around, suddenly facing him, looking at him for the first time. The prince clenches his jaw tighter, looking back at her with harshness, and caution-. Daera and you do not share the same values, nor the same moral-. She states, doubtless.

-The princess and I know very well how to deal with our political differences-. Aemond quickly keeps defending himself, and his love-. Our ideologies do not contrast, mayhaps, however, we-

-I've heard that speech more times that I can count-. The princess interrupted him with no shame, snorting. He open his eye big, wordless-. You both can keep reciting it all the times you wish to, but here is the truth-. She takes a step closer to him, speaking even lower than before-. If you so much root for the right of kingship of your older brother...you despise the rightful queenship of the wife you so steadfastly claim to love-. Rhaenys tilted her head to a side, softly. Aemond felt his heart pounding heavily, and his throat drying up. He shakes his head, sucking his cheeks-. I must be honest, I didn't expect for you to last this long...but its been two years already-, her calculating voice whispers.

-Against the odds-. Aemond immediately said, firmly, not letting himself to be so easily defeated.

-What odds?-. Rhaenys narrows both her eyes-. There are no odds in the bubble of dreams you both have been living in-, she shakes her head-. But what about now, prince Aemond? With this dilemma? All of your families gathered together in the same place, again. You two slinking like rats of cats...again-, a burlesque murmur left her lips-. No, you are too much of...Alicent Hightower's son, for that-, she looks at him from head to toe, judgy.

-That bubble that you claim does not exists, Rhaenys-. Aemond speaks again, and this time, he didn't hide the irk in his voice, the annoyment. That made her to smile, lifting a side of her lips-. My wife and I both are pretty familiar with our reality, and we surely know how it works-. He narrows his only eye, leaning his head back-. We accept that reality and, as much as it may bothers you, we are married in it-. His confident and proud voice dictated, lifting his chin.

-And yet, only four people in the wholeness of The Seven Kingdoms know that truth, you two included-. Rhaenys is quick in her answer as well, tauntly raising her brows. Aemond gulps strongly, looking at her with pain, and resentment. She doesn't care at all, giving a soft slow blink-...Our dearest, Daera, is wife to Jacaerys Velaryon-. The princess calmly mutters.

Aemond closes his lips harshly, forbidding himself to gasp or sobb. He stays as firm as a rock, staring at her with his strong gaze. Rhaenys blinks again and, as if nothing happened, turned around and quietly walked away from him, knowing what her words did to him, and hoping they would have a further effect.

Not even a minute passed, when a echoing roar is suddenly heard from up the skies. Everybody in the garden immediately turned their head to looked up, automatically, staring up with curiosity.

The roar is heard again, and then, within a second, the clouds of the morning are pierced by the majestical bodies of two dragons. Kalistrox and Vermax came together out of the clouds, flying quicker than the wind, side to side, flapping their wings with fastness as they soared in the sky, together.

Ridden by princess Daera, and her husband, prince Jacaerys.

Aemond felt all of his body froze up. His lips opened, staring at the sky with his blinkless huge eye.

Alicent's face dyed with perturbation and annoyment, looking up at the skies, while Vaemond narrowed his sharp eyes, wrinkling his lips, bemused.

All the lords and ladies of the garden gasped loudly, fascinated, as they saw the green and golden dragon lowering their height as they soared with their wings open, flapping them quickly. As The Golden Ray is way bigger than him, Vermax was putting all of his effort to follow him side by side.

Joffrey smiled bigly, clapping, while Daemon and Rhaenyra formed little powerful smiles in their lips, staring up with pride. Baela sighed through her nose as she saw their dragons flying together.

A great power move, indeed.

From Vermax and Kalistrox's backs, Jace and Daera turned their heads to look at each other from close.

As the wind blows all of his mane and cape, the prince stared at his wife with his chin lifted with pride, giving a light nod. The princess stared back at him with a cocky expression and a prideful smile, noding back to him as her dragon's back curves while he flaps. Daera winked him an eye, and he inevitably chuckled, both of them feeling so big, and powerful.

Vermax and Kalistrox both roared as they flew just above of the garden, causing a bunch of surprised and mesmerized gasps from below. Right at the moment the dragons flew over his head, prince Aemond quickly turned his body around to keep looking at them, having his lips open.

The One-Eyed Prince takes short steps forward, following them with his shocked and cold gaze. His fists closed with seriousness and impotence as he stares at the neared beasts. His chest comes up and down with slowness, and his heart beats sourly, resented, annoyed.

From the distance, Princess Rhaenys read his expression with easiness, and a burlesque calmed smirk crossed her lips, with an obvious expression of "I told you so".

Oblivious to all the different feelings of the people down there, Vermax and Kalistrox's riders kept flying away from The Red Keep, ruling the skies, remembering everyone about their power as they triumphantly and mightly commanded their dragons to roar.

■ ■ ■

After flying around the skies for another while, Jacaerys landed Vermax in The Dragonpit, where he left him for the dragonkeepers to feed him and take him to his cave. His wife landed her dragon on the beach, not at the same time, but after him.

Daera made Jace believed that she would fly with Kalistrox a little longer. She did, for a while, until she saw the royal wheelhouse taking him back to The Red Keep. Afterwards, she left Kalistrox on the beach, with Vhagar, farewelling him with some of her tender kisses on his horns, and greeting her real husband's dragon with a warm smile.

Next, she headed to the city.

As she promised, she has things to do. Dyana. Helaena's lost handmaiden has not faded away from her thoughts, and she is more than willing to find out what happened to her, though she has a keen gut on the subject. In her mind, Aegon raped her. And if no one in the castle knows her situation or whereabouts, she's sure the town can give her some answers.

The Dragon's Goodness doesn't care about hiding her identity when she's in the city, not even now, when there is not even one guard with her. Though she's wearing a coat, she's not wearing its hood, so her white curly mane is freely bouncing in her back as she walks through Flea Bottom and its multiple people. As mentioned before, the princess knows the people, and they know her, and are familiar with her kind person.

She carries her sheathed steel sword in the belt on her hips, as well as a dagger. The princess would greet the people around her, most of them would greet her back, while others would just stare at her, silent and curious, or mistrusted. The children call her by her name when they greet her, with no formality, which she loves. The princess would place generous coins in each hand and cup that begged, which they love.

Daera glances at some rats running near her, in the streets. She chuckled a little, briefly thinking about her Seventh Heaven in Pentos, and the time she literally had to force Aemond into trying fried rat -a delicacy- for the first time in his life. And, of course, he puked.

-My sir, Dunc!-. The princess approaches one of the many fruit stalls in the city, owned by an old man of bald head. He smiled when he saw her approach, crinkling his old eyes-. Good morrow-, she smiles, kindly.

-Good morrow, princess Daera-. The old man greeted her with a raspy polite voice, nodding-. The usual?-, he asks with a tired kindness.

-Please!-, the princess raised her brows, clapping funnily.

Dunc nods with a little laugh, turning to a basket full of sliced papayas, which have several flies circling them. Daera awaits patiently, getting the money out of her pockets as she briefly looks around. If she were Dyana, where would she be?

-Here, princess-, the man speaks with a croky gentle voice, handing her a generous slice of papaya with not one seed on it, grabbing it with some brown paper napkins to not touch it with his bare hands. Daera smiles bigly, taking it with one hand, and paying him with the other-. Thank you, princess-. He nods happily.

-Enough, my name is Daera!-. She says with gentile laughs-. And thank you, Dunc-. She raises her brows, giving a bite to the sweet papaya while he laughs tiredly-. Fuck, this is some fruit!-, the princess grunts, satisfied.

-It fucking is-, Dunc nods proudly with a shy smirk. Daera chuckles funnily, giving it another bite.

-Oh! Emm-. She chews fastly, covering her mouth for a second-. This brings me to a question, if I may-. She says, and he immediately nods, curious-. My good seller, have you seen, perhaps, a new girl wandering here, around the city?-. The princess asks.

-A new girl?-, he mumbles, narrowing his eyes.

-She has pale skin, green eyes, blonde-. Daera raised her brows as she describes Dyana. Meanwhile, Dunc started to shake his head from side to side-. No?-, she whispers, disappointed.

-No, I don't think so-. He shrugged, honest. Daera sighs, forming a small smirk.

-That is fine, no worries. Thank you!-. The princess begins to walk away-. And thank you!-, she raises the fruit, making him laugh-. Have a good day!-, she waves her free hand.

-You too!-. Dunc waves his hand as well.

Daera sighs through her nose as she chews the tasty papaya. As she walks, and eats, she started to ask around to every person she would see, taking a little time of them. However, its plein morning, everybody in Flea Bottom is rather very busy in the multiple chores of their households, or with a hangover that wouldn't allow them to even see the princess clearly. So, understanding that everybody is attending to their own affairs, she dedicated herself to just look around, begging to find the familiar face she is looking for.

A time later, the princess found herself walking through The Street of Steel. A heavy cloud of smoke hangs in the air around all the stone stalls of multiples blacksmiths and hammermen. Ser Harrold would lose his mind if he knew the princess is wandering around, alone, in such place.

Daera knows the little odds of finding Dyana in here, for it is known this is "a man's place". However, she trusts in the fact that, If there is someone who knows about every goddamn walking cunt in Flea Bottom, it is sweaty men.

A sound reaches her interested ears. Multiple whistles and loud cheerings. Daera stops walking, calmly turning her head to the right. She finds four young smiths, of her age, all of them really tall, gathered in one of the steamy stalls, looking at her with big smiles, and inviting glances.

-The greatest beauty in The Seven Kingdoms!-. One of them purrs, looking at her from head to toe.

The princess huffs, amused, glancing at the path forward, and then back at them. After briefly scrunching her nose, letting out a little chuckle, she turns around, and starts walking towards that stall.

Two of the young men immediately cheered and clapped, standing up from their stone benches. The other two's mouths fell in the floor, getting nervous when seeing the princess really approaching towards them.

-Good morrow, lads-. Daera smiles when she walks into the stall, carrying a easy shine on her purple eyes.

-A very good one, indeed...-. One of them sighed under his breath, admiring her clean and impeccable beauty.

-I don't think we've ever met before-. She narrows her eyes, looking at them four-. I'm Daera-, the princess smiles.

-Yeah, we kind of know that-. The tallest one of them nods with his eyes narrowed-. Princess Daera-, he names with passion.

-Oh, please, Daera alone is alright, don't want you to waste your saliva-. She huffs, slowly walking more into the stall.

-I don't matter wasting all my saliva in you, princess, I must say-. Another of the boys mutters with a cocky smirk, blatant. She immediately burst out laughing.

-Jay, that's the princess!-, another one grunted, reproachful, at him.

-Well, I just made the princess laugh!-. "Jay" pointed, proudly, making the other boys to laugh too.

-Yeah yeah, its alright!-. Daera chuckles, shaking her head-. That was creative, I gotta give it to you-, she sighs, pointing at him, who curved his lips into a flirty smirk-. Jay, is it?-, she mumbles.

-If it please you, princess-. He nods, palming the back of the fourth of the boys, who has been all silent, quietly organizing one of the warforged.

-How are your names?-. She curiously asks, looking at the others-. We have Jay in here, and also...-, she pointed at the tallest one, asking him to speak.

-Ajy-, he answers, looking down at her from his height, with a very telling expression of admiring her body.

-I am Jya, princess-. One of the quiet boys raises a hand, giving her a little smile.

-And this is Yja-. Ajy walks to the working boy, jokingly punching his head. The boy tsks, while Daera let out a gentle chuckle.

-The lad has no voice, but don't let yourself be fooled, he knows to work his tongue with a lady, isn't that right?-. Jay grunts burlesque, pinching Yja's waist, making him to tsk again. The others chuckled funnily.

-Ow, I see!-. The princess laughs, curving her brows while seeing at the muted boy, who glanced at her with his cheeks lightly blushed, looking back to his work-. A pleassure to meet you all, Jay, Ajy, Jya and Yja-. She nods softly, staring at all of them.

Daera blinks slowly, narrowing her eyes.

-Wait, your names share the three same letters- hold the fuck up, are you siblings?!-. She surprisedly asked, pointing at all of them. They immediately laugh loudly, elbowing each other-. Ugh, of course! Such heights are no coincidences!-, the princess snorted, rolling her eyes.

-Smart besides being a beauty. We have been blessed by The Seven, brothers-. Ajy smiles with cockiness, elbowing Jay, who chuckled funnily.

Daera gifts him a silent and arrogant smirk, tilting her head to a side as she walks to the table of the stall, looking at the multiple works in there. All of them are gorgeous.

Yja, the mute one, steps aside when she approaches. She gives him a fast kind smile, quickly staring back at the table again.

-And what is a dragoness doing, with no guards, in the city?-. Jay asks her with interest, crossing his strong arms on his chest.

-Uhh, would "looking for fire" be a dumb answer?-. She tauntly mumbless, caressing an iron helmet. The brothers laughed, amused. Daera blinks, about to ask about Dyana.

-Do you like something, princess?-. Jya politely asks, noticing her interested gaze on the table. She blinks bigly, still staring at it.

-You are some talented brothers, but I must confess, this one specially draws my whole attention-. Daera mumbles, pointing to a beautiful single sleeve of chain mail, as red as the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen-...May I?-, she looks at Yja.

-Yes yes. Of course. Please-. The three brothers answered, while the mute one hummed and nodded, as excited as them.

Daera hums, taking the sleeve off its place. Under the gaze of the four tall brown-haired brothers, the princess slides her left arm into the sleeve, and it fit perfectly.

-Ohh, stunning!-. She gasps, seeing how the piece molds her arm's figure at its best. They smile, proud of their work-. Wow, the weight is perfect, why don't you work for the crown?-. Daera asks, truly interested.

The four of them stayed silent for two seconds, suddenly a sort of uncomfortable.

-We...-, Jya begins to talk.

-We just don't-. Ajy answered, simply raising his brows.

-Fair answer-, Daera slowly nods, murmuring. She looks at the sleeve, smiling when seeing it again. She loves how it fits her-...Do you happen to know, casually, a girl called Dyana?-. The princess asks, lifting her gaze.

-I fucked a Dyana once-. Jay instantly nods.

-Jay!-. Jya immediately hisses, punching his chest.

-You're right, it was four times-. Jay corrects. Yja rolls his eyes.

-Then I doubt we're speaking about the same Dyana, Jay-. Daera sighs.

-She said my name-, Jay proudly mumbles.

-We heard-. Jya scoffs.

-She is of pale skin, short and blonde, green eyes-. The princess describes her, with her brows lightly up-. She may be new in the city, if that helps you-. She adds, hopeful.

-Sorry, princess-. Jya shakes his head, as well as Yja did, shrugging.

-Wait-. Ajy narrows his eye, and she quickly looks at him-. Your description fits someone, but, are you sure her name isn't Anna?-, he asks.

-Anna? No, no, its Dyana-. Daera blinks multiple times, confused-. Whose description does it fits?-, she questions.

-A new whore arrived to The Street of Silk, just yesterday at The House of The Roses, Anna-. Ajy points, having his arms crossed over his chest.

Daera grew speechless, blinking with terror, and feeling her heart sinking. It can't be...

-In a brothel?-. She repeats, approaching to Ajy with her eyes big open. He quietly nods, seeing her coming nearer-. Did you see her?-, she asks.

-I did. As pale as a cloud-. Ajy answers. The princess gulps strongly, leaning her head back with mistrust and hurt, looking at him with her lips harshly pressed, thinking the worst-. I didn't talk to her-, he says.

-Why didn't you?-. The princess quickly questions.

-Because I don't fuck children-. Ajy answered with firmness and cockiness, tilting his head as well as hers. Daera opens her lips, still worried, but feeling a weight leaving her chest.

-Well, that is a huge achievement in these days, it appears-. The princess slowly says, raising her brows. Ajy curves his frown a little, perturbated, as well as his brothers.

Daera decides that it has been enough talk. She has a clue, and there is not a chance she will not follow it.

-How much for the sleeve?-. The princess asks, turning to look at the other brothers. Behind her, Ajy smiles surprised, biting his lips.

-Wha-whatever you can offer, princess!-. Jya smiles happily.

-Shut up, cunt!-. Jay grunts pushing him away. Jya groans, crashing against a wall and falling on the floor-. Sixty dragons-, he raises his brows towards the princess.

-Sixty dragons-. Daera laughs funnily, reaching in her pockets. The brothers glanced between them, cheerful-. Here you have eighty, for the nice talk-. She winks an eye, handing him the golden coins.

-Seven hells, seven hells-. Jay whispers, shocked, looking at all that money-. And- and the information about your friend? We deserve a reward for that as well-, he bigly smiles.

-JAY!-. Jya yells from the floor.

-Enough, you clown-. Ajy pushes Jay away, while Daera laughs loudly, hitting her own legs.

-Here, for the information of my friend-. The princess giggles, handing him another twenty dragons. He closes his lips, moveless-. Take it!-, she insists. The tallest brother sighs, taking the coins. Jay howls out of happiness in the back. Yja rolled his eyes, again.

Daera sighs, glancing at her new red chain mail sleeve, and then at the brothers again.

-Cheers, fellas-. She mumbles.

Right after, The Dragon's Goodness left that stall, with quick steps and a worried expression, trying to not show it too much. Her feet walk as fast as her heart pounds.

The idea of finding Dyana at a brothel haunts her entirely but, at the same time, she just wants to see her, find her, see that she's okay! One part of her is begging that Ajy is wrong about this. About Anna.

It didn't took long for the princess to arrive to The Street of Silk, which has a quite different air, compared to The Street of Silk. As she walks, Daera receives countless longing glances and lusty looks from the prostitutes of outside, all of them dining the attractive princess with their eyes.

Helaena always blushes so hard when they walk by these streets, Daera briefly thinks for a second.

Soon, she reached The House of The Roses, a brothel of the many in the city. Not waiting for anything, she knocks both the doors with her closed fists, as calmly as she could.

-Hello! Someone home?!-. Daera asks loudly-. Please stop fucking!-, she begs, burlesque, looking around. A giggle came from a woman near her, with all of her tits out-. Hey there-, she greets, raising her brows.

-Hello, princess-, she shyly moves her fingers.

The doors are finally open, making Daera to nearly gasp. A black-haired adult woman opened, and when she saw the white haired brown-skinned girl, she did gasp.

-Princess Daera!-. She immediately bows.

-Hello!-, Daera sings with a hidden hurry, curving her frown-. Oh no need, no need, please-. She softly touches her arm, making her to stand straight again.

-It is the greatest of honors to have you here, princess-. The woman sighs, smiling.

-Thank you, may I come in?-. Daera points inside.

-You may, please!-. The lady immediately nods, thrilled.

The princess walks in, looking all around. She founds a reception filled with red and orange curtains of silk. It strongly smells to roses oil, but the sound of moans is even stronger. Groans and sighs are coming from behind every wall of the place.

It was not the time to remember the brothel she and Aemond visited in Pentos, but she did.

-You may tell me all of your wishes, princess, and none will be judged-. The owner of the brothel speaks with pride, smiling to her-. I can get all of my best ladies, and you may choose the one of your desire, or the ones-. She raises her brows, narrowing her eyes.

Daera sighs, facing her fully, and taking her hands in hers, gripping them softly. The woman blinks, highly surprised, looking at her with great interest, not having expected such warm touch.

-I only look for one, my lady-. The princess murmurs-. The new one...-, she says, and the woman starts to nod, surprised-...Anna-. Daera lowly whispered, serious.

■ ■ ■

The door of the room quietly opens. The chamber is a big one, with a huge bed in the middle, countless red curtains all around, around three incenses are lighted, and burning a heavy cinnamon smell.

A silent girl enters with slow steps. She is wearing a thin dress of pink silk, too long for her stature. She is short, and blonde, of big green eyes, and a pale skin. Dyana.

With a shy gaze, she slowly closes the door again, staring at the insides of the chambers. A person is quietly standing in one of the windows, wearing a long black coat and a hood, back to her.

Dyana gulps, taking a last deep breath.

-I am all yours, my lord...-. Her innocent, fragile voice speaks, with a hidden fear.

After hearing those words, the hooded person turns around. Princess Daera was the one in front of her, having her purple eyes filled with worries, and her lips opened in shock.

The blonde girl immediately gasped, and froze completely. Her throat got afflicted, and her lungs ran out of air in that moment.

-Dyana...-, Daera sighed, breathless, quickly walking to her, worried, relieved, scared.

-Pri-pri-princess Daera-. She stutters, starting to tremble entirely. The princess curves her brows, sensing her fear-. I...I left the castle, I did what they asked me to do!-. Her voice shrieks, frightened.

Daera blinks, feeling her heart twirling.

-Don't be scared of me, you're safe, you are completely safe-. She shakes her head, shushing. Dyana gulps strongly, nervously moving her hands.

-I...I...I- I don't...-. She keeps stuttering, airless.

-Come, come-. The princess whispers, without touching her, pointing to the bed and directing her towards there. Trembling, Dyana walks, feeling how bad all of her body is sweating-. Sit, please, I'll fetch you some water-. She says, heading to the night table.

Dyana sits down in the bed, feeling the deep old mattress below her. The girl trembles and whimpers, already with tears on her eyes. She feels a weight joining her, on her right.

-Here...-. Daera softly murmurs, heading the glass to her lips, which are all shaking-. Drink, sweet dove, you are safe-. She whispers, carefully placing the cup in her mouth.

Dyana closes her eyes, starting to swallow the water almost with despair, finding it so refreshing. As she sobs while she gulps, the princess keeps staring at her with a worried gaze, having her lips closed as she holds the cup for her.

Within ten seconds, the glass was already empty. Daera places it in the bed, immediately forgetting about it. She looks at the girl, who looks back at her with a fast shaky breathing.

-Why does Flea Bottom keeps telling me you are named Anna?-. The princess softly asks, furrowing her brows-. What are you doing in here, Dyana?-, she questions.

Dyana gulps, as mute as the boy the princess met before. The blonde stutters, nervous, and scared. Daera stops looking at her, drawing her gaze down.

-I apologize, I understand that, whatever situation it may be, it is not easy-, she sincerely mumbles, caressing her own skirt-. I'll tell you what I am doing here, would you like that?-. She asks, still not looking at her.

-...Ye-yes, princess-. The girl answers after some silent seconds, now trembling a little less.

-Alright-. Daera nods, playing with her fingers, staring at her sapphire rings-. I arrived yesterday, to the castle, onlh to find out that my cousin, Helaena, has a new maiden, and that...nobody knew what has happened to you, or where you were. The last time you were seen, you were sent to...Aegon's chambers, I'm told-. The princess mumbles, speaking as softly as she could.

Dyana afflicted her throat, immediately tensing up her whole body when she heard that name. Tears started to gather in her clear eyes.

-I beg you to forgive me, Dyana, but the worst of thoughts inevitably clouded my mind, for I know my cunt of a cousin is no good-. Daera shakes her head, clenching her jaw, looking at her rings-. Dyana, I...I believe he touched you, when you didn't want to be touched-. She says, finally looking up again.

She finds heavy sorrowful tears in the eyes of the child. Daera's chest hurted, and she felt tears also reaching her worried gaze. That look, that only scared look, says it all.

-You- you...-. Dyana stutters, breathless, trembling.

Daera blinks with pain, covering her mouth with her knuckles while staring at her.

-You are not...-the girl breathes in as deeply as she could, and two sour tears rolled down her cheeks-, you are not mista- mistaking, princess-. Her broken voice confessed, shameful.

The lips of the princess trembled, and her soul left her body in that moment, sighing in shock.

-I- I was fetching the prince his wine, as I was trying to- to ignore the- the thing, on his trousers-. Dyana starts telling, sobbing. Daera opens her eyes big, speechless-. When I turned around, he- he wasn't there anymore, I didn't know where he was!-. Her sweaty brows curved, and her voice broke even more-. The prince grabbed me from behind, and- and...!-, she breathes fastly.

-Dyana-, the princess quickly shakes her head.

-He placed me on the floor...!-, the girl shrieks.

-That is enough-. Daera interrupts with a shaky voice, gulping strongly. Dyana sobbs and whimpers stoppless, not breathing properly-. Do not live it again. I know-, she raises her brows, feeling her lips lightly trembling-. I know, child...-, she whispers.

-Princess, I- I am sorry, I am sorry-. The girl breathes her words with hurry and fear, shaking her head. Daera shakes her head as well, bemused-. I am so sorry-, she desperately sighs.

Daera suddenly grabs a hand of hers in her both. Dyana gasped before such warmness touching her cold skin.

-You will never, never, have to apologize for what happened to you-. The princess denies with a strong voice, that at the same time is compassive, and tender. Dyana sobbs, blinkless, while looking at her-. My cousin is a fool son of a bitch, a wastrel who I will deal with! And you...you didn't deserve it, no one does-. Daera whispers bitterly, raising her brows, caressing her fingers-. And you definitely do not deserve to be in a place like this, in a job like this-. She sighs, narrowing her eyes-. Why...why are you here?-, she asks, honestly confused.

Dyana gulps, reaching some air before answering, feeling her tears burning her red cheeks.

-They...they gave me a bag of coins, for me to get out of the castle and...and a tea-, her weak voice says.

Daera touches her belly, out of pure instinct, thinking about her upcoming child. A bag of money, to buy her silence, and a tea, a Moon Tea.

-Who did?-, she asks with a low whisper, blinkless.

-The Queen did-. Dyana mutters. Daera closes her eyes strongly, feeling her blood immediately boiling, her chest pounding fastly.

She was right, unfortunately, she was all the way right. Aegon is a monster. His mother hides to fight his nature. And Ser Erryk...this is what he has so worried about, yesterday's morning, she'd wadger, hiding the prince's ugly secrets too.

-Coward-, she mumbles-. Fucking cowards!-. Daera grunts, lightly startling the girl.

-The Queen believed me-, the girl adds with nerves, curving her brows-. She believed me but- but said that nobody else would-. She thinly whispers. Daera scoffs, bemused, sucking her cheeks-. What else is someone as young as me supposed to- supposed to do, but to...to try to make a living, out of my body?-. Dyana weakly says, looking like she wanted to convince herself.

Dyana is five and ten years old.

Daera gulps, immediately beginning to shake her head.

-No, I will not permit this, Dyana-. The princess whispers, firmly-. You are a child, not a hole, and these are definitely not the talents of yours-. She denies, raising her brows.

-Princess, I...-. The girl smiles, brokenly, and sadly-...I do not have another option-. She states.

The princess sniffs her nose, leaning front, and slowly placing her forehead on hers. Dyana opens her lips, looking at her from up close. The same warmness of her hands is in her eyes.

-I will tell the owner of the place to give you food, and a chamber to yourself, until I come back for you-. Daera firmly whispers. Dyana blinks bigly, confused-. She will not allow anyone you don't want to lay a single eye on you, while I return-. She raises her brows.

-Return? Pri-princess, I don't understand...-, she lowly whispers. Daera looks deeply at her teary eyes.

-I want to take you to Dragonstone-. The Dragon's Goodness proposed. Dyana gasped, going speechless-. You would join me, and my family, right when we leave King's Landing-, she raises her brows-. In there, you would perform the talents I know you do have, and no one will touch you, unless you want them to-. Daera dictated, firmly.

Dyana's throat trembles as she gasps time after time, looking at her with shiny eyes, the fear fading away for them, and being replaced by hope.

-Yes, yes, yes-. Silly, she starts to whisper and nod.

-Would you like that, dove?-, the princess sweetly mumbles, caressing her hands.

The girl sobs weakly, nodding endlessly, and then broking out crying again, now of relief. She leaned front, not holding herself anymore, and was welcomed by the warm chest of the princess and her tender hands cupping her head.

-Thank you, thank you!-. Dyana brokenly shrieks, almost feeling that this is not real.

-Its okay, do not thank me-. Daera sweetly whispers, closing her eyes as she caress her blonde hair-...You are safe-, she promised.

■ ■ ■

The hall of The Iron Throne is already starting to get filled with people, slowly, as the succession hearing is everytime closer.

All lords and ladies from the court are present in the room. Lords Tyland and Jason Lannister talk with Lord Caswell and Lord Vaemond himself, who is more than properly dressed. He has an inflated chest and a proud face.

The Lady of Driftmark is also at place and, with her, her second granddaughter, Baela. She decided to stay with her grandmother during the hearing, for she didn't want to leave her standing alone before The Hightowers. Baela will, however, support her siblings as much as possible, from her place.

As The Hand is attending to the morning treatment of The King of The Seven Kingdoms, The Queen and her children are already in the hall as well. Alicent is walking around the room, anxious, sometimes talking with some people.

Aegon is seated at the start of the staircase of The Iron Throne, constantly huffing and sighing, totally bored. He opens and closes his bent legs, making funny sounds with his mouth. At his side, his sworn protector, Ser Erryk, is firmly standing, just blinking.

Aemond is in the staircase as well, but far from his older brother. The One-Eyed Prince, having his arms crossed behind his back, is staring endlessly at the throne, from a safe distance. Blinkless, he almost looks lusty for it, thinking about all the solutions to his life the possesion of that chair would give him.

To his eye, this is the most beautidul seat of The Seven Kingdoms. If he was King...gods.

Some light steps get closer to him, and when he tilts his head to see, he finds Helaena approaching to him with her hands crossed over her belly, and a tiny smirk on her lips.

Aemond answers the small smile, looking back at The Iron Throne. Helaena blinks, staring boredly at it, not finding anything amazing on it. Its rather ugly.

The sweet princess thinks about the breakfast she had with her children, and Aemond. Her handmaiden, Claudia, was in the room as well, so she didn't had the opportunity to ask him something.

-How did it go with Daera?-. She questions, briefly tilting her head, looking at her crossed hands.

Aemond smiles, sucking the interior of his cheeks, and narrowing his eye with cockiness.

-You may be aunt really soon-, he lowly whispered, leaning towards her.

Helaena immediately flinches, opening her eyes big, and gasping with the biggest of smiles. Aemond chuckles, nodding silently. Aegon turned to look at them with an annoyed face.

Meanwhile, in the lonely outsides of the hall, right behind the tall huge doors of it, Rhaenyra and Daemon are in the company of two of their children, the bethroted ones, Rhaena and Luke.

-Oh for the gods sake-, The Heir to The Iron Throne sighs, looking all around while she caresses her pregnant belly.

-How can she be so late?!-. Rhaena asks, bemused-. Ugh, Daera!-. She rolls her eyes, annoyed.

-Fucking hells-, Daemon is just constantly swearing, with his hands resting on Dark Sister's handle.

Lucerys plays with his fingers endlessly, feeling his heart about to blow. He's wandering his gaze all around, as well as his mother, pleading to see his older sister arriving already. Instead, he sees his older brother coming.

-Jace!-, Rhaenyra immediately raises her brows. Her firstborn is approaching with quick steps and a fasted breath, hurried-. Did you find her?-, she fastly asks.

-Where is she?-. Daemon questions with a sharp tone.

-Where?-, Rhaena asks as well, while her betrothed gulps dryly.

-I...I could not find her-. Jacaerys answers within a sighs, ashamed. His family blinked and sighed, stressed-. I didn't see her anywhere-. He shakes his head.

Luke has Jace, Baela and Rhaena with him, to not mention his parents. The supporting of his siblings is what mostly keeps him considerably confident, right know, but he cannot stand the lacking of one, much less Daera. She's the one who always answers for them when she has to, the one who never fears fighting back, and the one who always steps in front of him when he's being menaced by someone or something. He needs her, and...and it ashames him deeply.

-Fuck! Is she counting the bloody clouds in the fucking sky?!-. Daemon snorts, opening his eyes big-. I am gonna dry up in here-, he scoffs.

-Go look for her again, Jace-. Rhaenyra commands him, lifting her chin. Jacaerys does the same, instantly nodding. Lucerys opens his lips, taking a step back-. Ask the servants if they have se-

-No-. Luke suddenly interrupted her, stepping front again. They all look at him, surprised, for he had been extremely silent-. Daemon is right, we cannot wait forever-. He says, fighting against the desire of his voice to tremble-. We...we must go in, already-. He decides.

Rhaenyra closes his lips, quietly staring at him. Rhaena and Jace share a silent gaze, worried, and Daemon blinks softly, narrowing his eyes towards the nervous yet brave boy.

-...Very well, then-. Rhaenyra mumbles, caressing her belly.

-Hmm-, her husband nods, walking towards the gates, and opening them by himself.

Every head in the hall immediately turns towards there, and within a second, the strong voice of Ser Arryk announced the royals arriving.

-Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, The Heir to The Iron Throne! Prince Daemon and his daughter, princess Rhaena, of House Targaryen! And princes Jacaerys and Lucerys, of House Velaryon!-. The knight names firmly and loudly.

A silence grew in the hall as soon as the family entered it. They walk with confidence and seriousness, avoiding each of the eyes nailed in them, ignoring them all. Luke is about to faint, of course, but he found a little peace when he saw Baela smiling at him, and felt a quick caress on his hand from Rhaena.

With mechanical movements, Aemond turns around, and side-eyed them, starting to walk down the stairs of the throne, soon being followed by his siblings.

The One-Eyed Prince searched for his wife between the family of hers, but did not find her anywhere. He knows his younger nephews, such as Joffrey, Aegon and Viserys, are not allowed in the hearing, but he wondered why she was not in here yet. He would had swear she'd be the first one to come in, out of all her family.

When not finding his love, then, his eye fixated in her brothers. As it always happens when Daera is away from him, his mind entirely clouded with sour and dark thoughts, as well as his heart beated with heaviness. He stares at the bastards, coldly, thinking of all of the things they owe him after having gagged them out of him.

The Heir to The Iron Throne and The Queen of The Seven Kingdoms shared a quick tense glance. Alicent stared at her with her lips uncomfortably pressed, and Rhaenyra glared at her with superiority, furrowing her mouth.

The Rogue Prince and his family reached their place, standing at the right of the hall. When they did so, Jace, Luke and Rhaena looked at Baela, who looked back at them with a confused expression, moving her lips.

-Where is Daera?-, she mouthed.

And all of them shrugged, worried.

■ ■ ■

Cunt.

Stupid fuck.

Fucking asshole.

Aegon The Fool.

Aegon The Rapist.

Aegon The Drunk.

Aegon The Motherfucker.

Aegon The Piece of Cowshit.

AEGON THE FUCKING WHORE!

Fists tighted, chest coming up and down, raged eyes, heart beating heavily.

Princess Daera walks in Flea Bottom with the greatest of furies in her. She can't stop thinking about the pure fear of Dyana's eyes, the audacity of The Queen of sending her away! Aegon may be a monster, but his mother, gods. Her mother in law lives singing about justice, righteousness, decency. Hypocrites, a bunch of hypocrites!

The bells have toiled, Daera heard some moments ago, and so now she is heading back to The Red Keep, as quick as possible. She needs to back her family, to back Luke, and...

Hold the fuck up.

The princess suddenly stopped walking when something catches her gaze. Turns out she's walking near the shelter of children. And, from the corner of her eye, she noticed the doors of it are open.

In the door, Moringa is standing with a scared brave expression, facing three men. But not just some men. Those are Treynor, Olly and Prash. The ones that just yesterday were threatening the woman, and her shelter.

They are doing it again, they...they still plan to rob her, its obvious by her scared gaze. The fact lighted the princess's eyes with rage, and madness.

Over the shoulders of the men, Moringa suddenly became aware of the white-haired princess, quietly standing from the distance, looking straight at them as an animal haunts its prey. Inevitably, she gasps, surprised why such wild eyes.

Before Moringa The Whore's shocked gaze, the three men also turned around their heads, confused, searching for what she was looking at. It was not difficult to see the Targaryen princess, moveles, glaring at them.

Treynor, Olly and Prash immediately mumbled between them, getting away from the shelter with discreet steps, pretending to not be noticing her. They acted as if nothing was happening, as if they weren't about to assault the children's shelter.

Moringa, doubtless, quickly closed the door again when the men stepped away.

Daera presses her lips as her eyes slowly narrowed, fixated in them. The princess keeps staring at them with disbelief, rage. Insulted. Calculating.

No. Aegon is enough. She have had enough. She won't be made the fool again.

The princess briefly licks the insides of her cheeks, and then she turns around, leaving. The three thieves raised their brows, surprised, as they see the princess walking away in total silence.

-It looks like the whore abandoned her whore-. Treynor mumbled, burlesque.

-Let's wait until she gets further-. Olly decides with a taunt smirk, seeing the white-haired getting lost between the people.

-Yeah-. Prash agrees, glancing at the children shelter.

■ ■ ■

By punishing those who have committed a crime, you teach the others to not commit it as well.

But...how well is it, to punish a crime, at all cost, before its even committed?

In one of the beaches of the huge shores belonging to The Blackwater Bay, princess Daera receives a soft wind on her face, where a tiny smirk of confidence is placed.

-Thank you, boys...-she nods, handing a brown bag full of coins-...for your cooperation-. The princess raises her brows.

In front of her, the four brothers she met before, at The Street of Steel, smile when they see the money handed to them.

-Fuck-, Jay mumbles with a smirk, taking the bag.

-It was our honor, your grace-. Ajy nods with a taunt expression, looking at her.

-I am not queen yet-, she remembers, calmly.

-You'll be some day-. Jya says, with high respect.

-Thank the gods...-, the tallest brother mumbled. Yja agreed with his lips closed, smiling.

Daera smiles to them for a few seconds, silently nodding, and then she sighs, raising her brows.

-You may leave now-, she allowed, pointing forward with gentleness.

Afterwards, the blacksmith brothers walked away, together, constantly looking back at her, until they fully left the beach, returning to their humble stall, and leaving her alone.

Daera blinks, staring at a blank point for a few seconds. Then, she turned around.

The Rogue Princess walks on the dirty dark sand of the polluted beach, advancing with serene steps. Her left arm, where she wears her new red sleeve, reaches for the belt in her hips.

She grabs her steel sword, starting to take it put of its sheath, making a low metallic sound.

《 ... 》

-They were about to enter to the shelter-, Moringa sobs, ashamed.

Daera listens to her with her brows curved, and her lips closed.

-I was about to look for my dagger, princess, if hadn't you arrived-. She says, gulping with nerves-. They...they threated to light the place on fire, if I did something-, she remembers, tense.

《 ... 》

The princess clinks the sword's end against the rocks she was walking by. That made loud repetitive sounds, cold and bone-chilling ones.

Her leathed boots walk towards certain place, dragging her sword in the rocks. Lying in the sand, passed out, are Olly, Prash and Treynor. They have minor injuries in their faces, which are covered by dark oil grease, that of a blacksmith's hands. The mayor wound is a black eye.

They began to regain their consciousness before those constant metallic sounds, which began to hammer their heads as they got closer, with each passing second.

-What...?-, Treynor mumbles, confused.

《 ... 》

The three thieves were walking in one of the multiple alleys of Flea Bottom, near the children's shelter. Around them, there were beggars and whores, each of them caring about their own matters.

They were plotting their assault to the orphanage. That place get endless help from the princesses of the realm! Countless baskets of food, clothes, toys, everything. They have been rejoicing in all of those blessings.

Olly, Prash and Treynor have decided that it has been enough of that.

Said thieves would have robbed the place, lit it in fire, perhaps even killed the children, if -an only if- four tall and strong young men wouldn't have taken them by surprise right in the middle of that alley.

Ajy, Jay, Jya and Yja collided their fists and iron sticks against the three men, pushing them on the walls and kicking them endlessly, not even giving them chance to react properly. Not a word was said, besides all of their curses and threats, and soon, they were wordless, and fainted in the mud.

The beggers and whores of the alley only watched, and somes even didn't, not caring at all about that assault. Instead, they did what they are best at. Beg, and to whore. Yja gave them a few coins, and Jay slapped the ass of a prostitute as they dragged the bodies away.

《 ... 》

Finally, the three men were already awaken, with great headaches. As they were laying, the first thing they saw was sand, and the first thing they felt, was their tied hands behind their backs.

Olly blinks harshly, confused, and he is the first one to look up. And when they hear him gasp, Treynor and Prash also looked.

The Rogue Princess is standing some steps in front of them, firmly quiet, with a serious face. Her hands are crossed over her long clean sword of steel, which is nailed in the sand. She blinked, with the sun shining behind her long white hair.

-I warned you-, the princess said, shrugging.

In that moment, Olly's face dyed with extreme terror as he seated in the sand, and he saw his life flashing before his eyes.

-Oh no, no no no-. His voice breaks-. No princess, please, please, I beg you!-. He didn't wait even a second to plead.

The other two, on the other hand, couldn't be more annoyed, also lifting their upper body.

-What do you think you are playing at, girl?!-. Prash grunts, struggling with his tied hands.

-You whore!-, Treynor yelled, clenching his teeth-. Untie us!!-, he demanded.

-Princess, please, PLEASE, have mercy on me, please!-. Olly is already crying, with tears burning his eyes.

Daera sighs through her nose, unfazed, glancing at the clouds.

-You see, I am already late to a meeting, so I have no time for a motivating speech, or...or some dramatic shit like that, you know?-. She talks in the middle of their endless screams, walking towards them, and grasping her sword-. I'm afraid I'll have to be quick-, she added.

-NO, NO! PLEASE NO!!-. Olly screamed twitching in the sand.

Daera places herself behind him, raises her sword with her nose scrunched, and then, let the steel rain over him. Olly's hands were ripped from his body in less than a second. They fell behind his back, gently, and the ropes came loose.

-You are a free man now-. Daera jokes, chuckling.

Olly gasped, his eyes went huge, and then he let out the biggest scream of his life, yelling out of pain and fear, hurting his lungs and throat. Treynor and Prash screamed too when they saw all the blood that ran out of his sliced veins, immeditaley dyeing the sand red.

-CRAZY- CRAZY BITCH!!-. Prash yelled, teary.

-WHY?! NOO, OHH!!-. Olly howls with pain, writhing in the sand, in his own blood, on his own hands.

-You won't steal anymore-. Daera speaks with so much calmness, walking to the next person. The fat one-. Prash, was it?-. She points at him with her weapon.

-LET US GO, YOU HEARTLESS WHORE!!-. Treynor screams, hurting his throat with his loud voice.

-I?! I am the heartless?!-. The Rogue Princess scoffs, looking at him while she grabs Prash's wrists as if they were a bag. He whines, struggling as much as he could-. What am I doing, but the right thing?-. She asks, bemused, placing her sword on the ropes.

-DON'T, DON'T!-. Prash begs, crying.

Daera stares harshly at him, and then she begins to move her sword even harsher against his very skin. Slowly. Prash burns in pain and yells with it as he feels his hands starting to be sliced as if they were a fine ham. The steel comes up and down, as a saw hurriless cutting wood.

Treynor opens his mouth big, screaming, as he sees his friend's hands slowly being peeled off his body, uncovering his veins, meat and blood. The three men whine and cry, endlessly, while the princess cuts his hands off with a calmness worthy of a paint.

-Have mercy, princess...PLEASE!-. Olly's tired voice pleads, endlessly twitching on the floor.

-BITCH! FUCKING BITCH, BLOODY HELLS!!-. Prash cries as her handsless arms bleed stoppless.

-DO YOU THINK WE CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT OR HANDS, DUMB CUNT?!-. Treynor, bravely, keeps screaming at her, even though his friend have been cruelty maimed by her.

Daera looks at him, with a funny pout on her lips.

-Oh no, I- I am sure you would figure something out, you're smart men-. She shrugges, bouncing her sword in the air as she starts to walk again, away from them. They three breath fastly, staring at her with endless tears. Daera faces them, from a distance again-. My dragon, however, will want more of you than just hands-. Her brows raised.

That's it. They went speechless.

A low growl begins to make the sand around to tremble, as they bodies did as well. The thieves turned their heads to the right, forgetting about the pain, the blood, and about everything. They forgot about that, and remembered that...the princess is a Targaryen.

The Golden Ray came out from behind a rock hill, revealing his mighty and bone-chilling presence. The huge dragon crawls with his big golden wings, nearing to them with total hurriless. All of his scales are ruffled, and his eyes, as mad as his rider's, are fixated on the thieves.

He emitts a sharp yet low-pitched spine-chilling sound that only belongs to him. The dragon is singing and humming his growls, menacing, as he gets everytime closer, step by step, torturing their minds, and their eyes.

Daera smiles softly when she sees him. Her smile fades away when the men begin to scream again, and this time it was for real. They've never been this scared, this helpless, and it was showing pathetically. Words were not coming of their mouths, but frightened stupid yells, screams and whines filled with despair.

The princess tsks her tongue, shaking her head from side to side.

-No. No! That is not fair!-. She denies, pointing at the crying men-. You did not want to learn the good way, you all were reckless, and cruel!-, she raises her brows.

-PLEASE, PLEASE HAVE MERCY!-. Treynor pleads, for the first time, making her eyes go big.

-After calling me a whore?!-, Daera points to herself, smiling.

Kalistrox arrived, just behind her. He dug the claws of his wings into the sand, harshly, on either side of her body, and began baring his long pointy teeth with a rising snarl of rage and menace, glaring at the three of them. His body is so unbelievably large that half of it is actually on the sea, stepping on the water and the waves that pass by.

Treynor breathes fastly, with heavy saliva falling off his lips as he stares up at the princess with raged tears, impotent, full of despair. She blinked, warning.

-Fu...FUCKING WHORE!!-. He dared to yell again, turning his neck red.

Daera roared, taking her dagger out from a moment to another. She grabbed it in the air and ran towards Treynor, pushing the behind of his head into a rock, and starting to crush his hace with the blade's handle, punching him with no mercy at all.

Treynor screamed to the skies with the worst of pains, feeling the princess madly smashing all of his face with vilence and madness, roaring as she did it. Olly and Prash cried with fear, looking from them to the roaring dragon, and then back to them.

The Rogue Princess grunts as she punches and crashes his mouth, eyes, nose, forehead, everything. Her made made her believe, for a second, that this was her cousin Aegon, and that just made her to crash him stronger with the handle of the dagger, ignoring all the screams from the others.

-You will do no more harm-, her poisoned voice grumbles.

Most of the blood coming from Treynor's face is falling on the princess, staining her face, chest and hair of red drops, while the end of her skirt is also starting to get dirty, with the pool of blood of the sliced hands of the other two.

Kalistrox growls, and Daera suddenly stops, breathing fastly, and looking at her work. Treynor's face is entirely deformed. His eyes are hided in the deepness of his skull, and his cheekbones and lips are inflated and pulsing, beating as a healthy heart. And the best part? He's still alive.

Treynor weakly whines, agonizing. His friends look at him in the middle of their tears and cry, as weak as him.

The deformed one grunts and sobs with pain when he suddenly felt a part of his body being abruptly detached, and more blood began to run. His hands have been cut off as well, and the princess kicked them so he would see them. He cried, closing his hurted eyes.

-Fucking cunts-. Daera tsks her tongue, walking away from them with a disguted face-. You stink-, she hisses.

Daera and her dragon look at each other, and she raises a hand to caress his neck, not stopping her steps. He growls lowly, looking back at the men his rider maimed.

She turns around, looking at them too, disgusted and tired, already bored of so much blood and whines. Daera licks her lips, furrowing them.

-Alright-, she whispers, blinking, and feeling a drop of blood in her lashes-. Dracarys-. The Rogue Princess said.

Olly, Treynor and Prash opened their mouths big, screaming.

Kalistrox opened his mouth too, and all of their screams were shushed when the dragon roared and made fire rain all over them. Their crying faces melted before the flames would even touch them, but when they did, their lifes immediately were wiped out entirely.

Daera looks straight at them, at the side of his dragon while he, not stopping for one second, breathes flames in their corpses, burning even the recall of their names, which she already forgot. The princess smiles with her lips closed, feeling the heat that was coming from her dragon's whole body, as if he was lit in fire himself too.

The Golden Ray stopped his fire before he burned them to the bones. Daera, then, sees their fried bodies and hands, pathetic, and dead, of course. She laughs.

-Good boy-, she whispered proudly.

Kalistrox shook his neck, and then went straight to bite one of the corpses, eating it with desire and wildness. A roar of Vhagar is heard from afar, in another part of the beach. She has a craving too.

The princess licks her lips with a huge smile, cleaning her dripping sword with her skirt, and cleaning the drops of blood on her face with her hands.

《 ... 》

-If you have any other problem, my good woman...-

Moringa blinks, speechless, looking at the princess, holding her bloody hands, and seeing some of her bloody strands of hair.

-...just tell me-, Daera smiles sweetly.

-I definitely will-. She mumbles, bemused.

《 ... 》

■ ■ ■

Indistinct chatters covers The Iron Throne's room as it is already full of people. The whole court is here, The Queen and The Heir, as well as their respective children. And, the last person that arrived, The Hand of The King.

Otto Hightower stands in front of the empty chair. Behind of him, two large Targaryen banners, at which Helaena is looking at with tranquile expression.

-Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds...!-. Otto's hoarse and firm voice speaks, shutting up every other voice, and making everyone to listen at him-, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succesion of Drfitmark!-, he informs.

Lucerys gulps, feeling a thousand eyes placed in his back.

-As Hand, I speak with The King's voice on this, and all other matters-. Otto states, taking a step back, and taking seat in The Iron Throne as if it is his usual chair. Daemon hummed lowly, finding the image disgusting-. The crown will now hear the petitions-, he says.

Rhaena eyes Luke, seeing him gulping with his blue gaze full of anxiety. Quietly, she caressed his arm, and he turned to look at her, nervous.

-Easy...-, she whispered. Trying to calm himself, he closed his lips, and crossed his hands in front of him.

-Ser Vaemond, of House Velaryon-. The Hand of The King called.

Aemond lifted up his only eye, nailing this one on Lucerys, able to see his fear. At his sides, Aegon is dying of boredom, and Helaena is in her own mind. Alicent watches everything with attention and, behind them, Ser Erryk and another guard are standing.

With a serene yet serious expression, Vaemond glances at the family of Rhaenyra and, afterwards, he walks to the front. Rhaenys looks at him, thoughtful, while Baela gave a confident nod with her head, following his every move. Daemon also stares at him, calmly.

-My Queen-. Vaemond greets. Alicent looks at him, serious, and Helaena did as well, curious-. My Lord Hand-, he greets the man on the throne, who noded to him with respect.

Jace posses a staid gaze, constantly eyeing at Aemond, for he is looking at them with no pretending. Jacaerys just ignores him, unable to not remember the last talk he had with him. I fuck your sister.

-The history of our noble houses extends beyond The Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria-, Ser Vaemond speaks with politeness, with his hands crossed over his abdomen-. For as-

All of a sudden, he is interrupted by the prominent sound of the doors of the hall being open. That made Vaemond to furrow his brows and turn his head around, as well as everybody did.

-Princess Daera, of House Targaryen!-. Ser Arryk's voice loudly announced.

Aemond opens his eye big, fully turning to look at there.

Princess Daera arrived to The Iron Throne's room with a cocky walk, and a cocky face. She has a sleeve of chain mail wrapped to her left arm, red, and that is not the only red in her. While her short blouse and her skirt are black, the end of the latter is all stained by wet sand and what appears to be fresh blood. Red drops are as well in her white hair, tiny little drops all around distint parts of her mane, distant to each other, but very noticeable.

Gasps and expressions of bemusement and surprise arrived within a second, and the hall covered with new multiple murmurs coming from everywhere. What does this means? Is the princess mocking the hearing, by arriving late and looking like this? Is this supposed to mean a threat, to Vaemond Velaryon? Is this a warning?

Daera listens to none of them, and she just keeps walking with a indelible smile on her bright face. She is not walking, she is straight out strutting, prideful. The sword and dagger sheathed in her belt bounce along her hips movements, following the rhythm of her steps.

Vaemond is clearly insulted, staring at her with his eyes narrowed and his lips open. Otto is speechless in the throne, looking at the princess with his bemused big gaze.

Aegon is grossed out, wrinkling his lips when looking at his scruffy cousin. Helaena keeps a small smile on her lips, looking at her with dearness and easiness, not minding at all her stains of blood. It is far obvious she is not hurted. Alicent is speechless, and Aemond, blinkless, is almost having a stroke, not understanding why his wife is covered in blood, or why did she arrive late, and why she seems proud of it.

Behind his protected prince, and his helmet, Ser Erryk stares at the princess with surprise and interest.

Rhaenys blinked hugely, only one time, bemused, and at her side Baela laughed with a great surprise, never drawing her gaze away from her big sister.

As the murmurs and gossips run after her, the older Targaryen princess keeps walking with no hurry, smiling, and finally glancing at her family.

Daemon has the calmest of smiles on his lips, simply admiring his wild beast of a daughter. Luke's mouth opened as he blinked fastly, feeling a heavy weight leaving his chest, and his lips briefly smiling. Jace looks silly, staring at her with his mouth loose and his eyes big, wondering what the heck she has done. Rhaenyra and Rhaena both share the very same expression of worriness and confussion.

Daera stops walking, at last, halting her steps just at Vaemon's side. He looks at her, blinkless.

-Uff, that was a long walk-. The princess smiles funnily, raising her brows. Some laughs are heard from the court. Aemond's eye is shining over her, mesmerized-. My Lord Hand, and...-. Daera looks at her left, where she finds Alicent-...my Queen-, she mumbled-. I apologize, for my lateness-. A sigh leaves her lips.

-An apologize for your appearance would be welcomed as well, princess Daera, this the throne's room, not a playground-. Queen Alicent pointed within a second, tightly grabbing her wrists and highly raising her brows, reproachful.

Bouncing his head, Aegon draws a silent burlesque smile. Princess Daera side-eyes The Queen, who keeps looking at her.

-Then I apologize for my appearance as well, your grace-. Daera nods, softly-. It is just too difficult to find a glass where to see my reflection among all this seven point stones, which highly confuses me because this is a castle...not a septon-, she politely said, fake, and burlesque.

Aliceng closed her lips. Low gasps were heard all around. Aemond's eye stopped shining, and it narrowed with seriousness, and annoyance. He tighted his fists behind his back, thinking about how much he hates when his wife is so disrespectful towards his mother.

-You may take your place with your family, princess Daera, and allow Ser Vaemond to proceed with his petition-. Otto spoke firmly from the throne.

-I very much agree-. The princess nods with no problem. She looks at Vaemond, who looks back at her with coldness, a expresion she tauntly copied-...Good luck, uncle-. She murmured, walking away from him.

Daera headed towards her family, automatically smilimg when seeing them. They decided to not exchange a single word, but when she took place between her father and her fake husband, they all shared quick glances that carried a hundred thoughts in them.

Daemon side-eyed her with a cocky smile, Jacaerys elbowed her with a curious expression, and Rhaenyra looked at her with a silent reproach, opening her eyes big. Daera glanced at Luke and Rhaena, noding towards them with a confident smirk. Rhaena huffed, and Luke smirked back at her, nervous, but somewhat relieved, enduring the sight of blood.

-In the name of the crown, I apologize for such abrupt interruption, Ser Vaemond-. The Hand says with shame and politeness, raising his brows.

Daera rolls her eyes, opening them big.

-You must not worry, my Lord Hand, my mind is not too easily distracted, I am a sailor-. Vaemond showed off with a humble smile, making Otto to smile as well.

-Did I miss a lot?-, Daera asks within a whisper.

-He barely started-, Jace whispered, leaning his head closer to hers.

-Good, good-. She immediately nods.

-As I was recalling to you before, the bond of our houses date back to the days of Old Valyria, and its glory-. Vaemond raises his brows, mannerly speaking-. For as long ad House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas-, he pointed.

Daera passes her gaze over her uncle, glancing at someone else. From the distance, she glares at Aegon, fixating her deep eyes in him, not blinking once. The idiot is scratching his hands, not attending to anything. The Rogue Princess's has a strand of hair in the middle of her gaze. In it, drops of dry blood, dyeing her sight of Aegon of that strong red.

When she feels that someone is also staring at her, she moves her eyes, finding, then, Aemond's. Her husband is looking at her from his place in the hall, with his lips furrowed into a tiny froze smirk. She sucks the inside of her cheeks for a moment, staring at him for the first time in the day. The memories of last night hit them both.

-When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines, and their name-. Vaemond speaks softly and calmly, reciting history to lead to his point.

Silently, Daemon eyes Rhaenyra with his characteristic burlesque easiness. After briefly shaking her head, she side-eyed him, and noded briefly, looking at the floor.

At last, Vaemond reached his point.

-I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat-. His voice became stronger now. Lucerys looks at him, quietly, thoughtful-. I am Lord Corlys's closest kin, his own blood-. He proudly says.

Daera furrows her brows, and then wrinkles her lips when seeing Otto noding from the throne, truly listening to the man. She clenches her teeth, looking at Rhaenyra, who glanced back at her only for a second.

-The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins-. Vaemond states.

-As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon-. Rhaenyra spoke from a moment to another, not even looking to the man, but to the ground. Aemond hummed from his place, annoyed-. If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir-. She speaks with no doubt and, behind her, her children stand with confidence. At her right, however, Luke stands ashamed-. No, you...only speak for yourself, and for your own ambition-. She blamed.

-You will have chance to make your own petition, princess Rhaenyra-. Alicent almost cut her words, harshly. Daera clenches her teeth, as well as Jace did, also lifting his chin-. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard-, she ordered, serious.

After their mother spoke, Aegon curved his lips into a smirk, looking tauntly at the family in front of them, and Aemond smirked as well, keeping his eye still and lifting his lips with cockiness. His half-sister knows nothing of respect and believes she always have the right to speak and interrup someone when she wants to. Idiot.

The One-Eyed Prince's wife noticed his smirk, making her to close her fists.

After being defended by the very Queen, Vaemond twirled his body to look at them with a superior expression of confidence, blatantly smiling. Rhaenyra immediately drew her gaze away, and Luke shivered.

-What do you know or Velaryon blood, princess?-. Vaemond asks, narrowing his eyes. The Heir gulps, silent-. I could cut my veins...-

-The only good idea he has ever had-, Daera mumbled under her breath. Daemon laughed sharpy under his breath as well, looking down. He touches the handle of her sword. It is warm.

-...and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it-. Vaemond shamed the princess, raising his brows-. This is about the future and survival of my house-. He says. Jace rolls his eyes, looking at the Targaryen banners-, not yours-. Vaemond whispered and, after closing his lips, he stared at Lucerys.

The boy stares at him with a crystal gaze, having little tears on them, lips opened. Rhaena looked down, also scared of his eyes. Daera clenched her teeth, wanting to draw Vaemond away from them.

-My Queen, my Lord Hand-. Vaemond faces, once again, The King's stewards-. This is a matter or blood, not ambition-. He firmly clears.

Lucerys glances to the Queen's family, and he completely froze when finding Aemond's sadistic still eye nailed on him, with a closed smirk on his pink lips. The boy looks like lost puppy, a stupid one that knows that everything being said about him is purely and entirely true. Those blue sad eyes don't convince no one, or so he thinks.

-I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all-. Vaemond asks with firmness. In his eyes, there is decision, and love-. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor...the Lord of Driftmark, and Lord of The Tides-. He softly pleaded.

Everything went silent. Luke nods silently, ashamed, while his siblings glanced between them, annoyed and insulted.

-Thank you, Ser Vaemond-. Otto politely nods from the throne.

Aemond blinks briefly with a cocky smirk on his lips, feeling that everything is going just as it should. Vaemond's petition couldn't have been more right or correct. Justice is everytime closer, he can feel it. Lucerys won't be Lord of the Tides.

The Ser nods towards The Hand and, after an arrogant side-eyed to the the family at his right, he walked back to his place, full of confidence.

Daera looks front, glaring at Aegon scratching his chin with disinterest, furrowing his lips. She feels her blood boiling, hearing Dyana's sobs and whines on her mind.

When looking at her husband, she shivers when finding an arrogant expression on his face. He must be insane, she thinks. How can he keep wishing so much for her brothers' decay, knowing that it would also affect her? He is just thinking of himself, not in her too.

-Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son...-. The Hand of The King calls-...Lucerys Velaryon-, he slowly names.

Rhaenyra's family all look at her while she nearly rolled her eyes, uncrossing the hands over her belly.

-Come on, Nyra-. She heard a whisper from Daera before taking a few steps until arriving to the front of the throne, standing alone in there-. Fuck-, the girl curses, noticing The Queen's look of superiority.

-If I am to grace this farce with some answer...-. Rhaenyra starts speaking, clearly annoyed, blinking fastly as she stares at the floor-, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very--

The sound of the doors opening interrupted everything, again. But this time, who might it be? All the people turned their heads towards the entrance, and when they saw who it was, everyting gave a huge total turn. Everything changed.

-King Viserys of House Targaryen!-. Ser Arryk firmly announces. Otto flinches on the throne, and Rhaenyra turns around fully, with tears coming up to her eyes-. The First of His Name!-. Alicent opens her worried lips, and Aemond opens his lonely eye, speechless-. King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and The First Men!-. Daemon turns his head slowly, and Daera shivered and gasped in shock-. Lord of The Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of The Realm!-. The knight finishes.

Everyone of the court bowed their heads before the man arriving to the room. Viserys arrives with his back slouched, his body standing by the help of a cane, the half of his rotting face covered by a golden mask, and his lungs constantly wheezing and hurting. But he is here.

The King is here.

Not a single murmur is head in the room as everybody is in total shock, for he hasn't been seen in court since forever, and now he is here, weakly walking in the middle of the hall.

A hero, for some...

Daera's brows have curved, and her lips are opened with disbelief, relief, pain, love. The princess cannot believe she is seeing her uncle, after all this time of forbidden of doing so. Her heart melted, relieved, looking at the salvation of them, at their main defender. Her eyes showed pain when seeing him this weak, this deeply illed, limping at every step. However, her gaze also filled with love, for she felt nothing more abundant than such, the same feeling his heart is beating with. A thought was immediate: my family is safe.

And a villain, for others...

Aemond's factions have grown cold, and bemused. He hadn't seen his father in ages. He was rotting in bed, always keeping Alicent worried and busy with his attendance. He was weak, Viserys, and gladly locked away from them all. And now...now he rose up from his dying bed, to defend his favourite child and all of her wrongs. His father didn't even move a finger when he pleaded for him to raise his voice in favour of his marriage with Daera, he didn't care when he left the room crying. He coughed. Viserys coughed, and he is the reason of why the love of his life is married with a bastard, with someone else. What about him? What about him, for the millionth time?

Vaemond, as shocked as everyone else, turns to look at The Hand, who is as shocked as him. And when he looks at The Queen, he found worriness on her eyes.

Baela has her brows curved, looking at her uncle with softness and incredulity. Rhaenys gulps and blinks to look down, hurted by the weak health of her cousin.

Viserys walks in the middle of agitated groans, supporting all of his weight on his cane as he stares front, at all moments, tiredly. One would think he is staring at his throne, but...he is staring at his child, Rhaenyra. His only child.

Helaena watches her father walking, and she is just happy because he seems determinated to keep advancing, and that made her proud. And, as she draws a tiny smile on her innocent face, Aemond tilts his head and, cautiously, glances towards his wife.

He wanted to see if she is thinking what he is, if she feels as betrayed as he does. But, Aemond only ended up feeling more betrayed when he finds her with her eyes filled with hope and happily, staring lovingly at Viserys while she is tenderly hugging an arm of her father. She is all sentimental, it is obvious, not even thinking about how her uncle dismissed her feelings once. The one-eyed looks down, closing his eye with force. She is not thinking about him.

The King, as he weakly advances, looked at his second family, fixating his gaze only in his wife, who looked at him with honest concern. He didn't glance at his children. Helaena did look at him, blinking with calmness, use to never have his eyes on her. Aegon, on the other hand, is breathing rather fastly, wanting his father to peer at him, at least for a second. Aemond, lastly, did not even try. He kept staring at the floor, quiet, hiding his internal sadness and misery.

When Viserys looks at his right, Rhaenyra looked back at him with the softest of dearness and surprises. She looks like an angel, just like her mother, and he weakly sighed because of the thought. He stared at her for long loving seconds, and to her children as well, all of them looking back at him with that same love. Daemon, to be honest, has no happiness on his eyes, but pain and seriousness, looking at his illed brother.

Viserys, at last, reached the stairs to the throne, where his Hand is standing in silent. He turned to look at him, breathing heavily, gripping his cane.

-I will sit the throne to day-, His Grace spoke with tiredness, but determination.

-...Your grace-. Otto agreed, nodding, and stepping away.

Gripping her father's arm, Daera turned her head to smile towards Luke with pride and hope, pressing her lips. He looked back at her with disbelief, sighing with nerves. Stating at that interaction, Aemond clenched his nails on his hands, behind his back.

Not even before the first stair, Viserys groaned and grunted with pain, incredibly weak. Aegon startles when Ser Erryk suddenly goes away from his side, quickly walking towards The King.

Princess Daera opens her lips, fixating her eyes on the knight, seeing a little of his worried expression behind the helmet of his armour. He wanted to help, even though nobody asked him to. She gulps, remembering herself that he hides Aegon's ugly doings.

-I will be fine-, Viserys says, breathless, making the knight to slowly step back-. I will be fine-. He repeats, glancing to his throne.

With doubt in his eyes, Ser Erryk nods and obeys him, turning around and silently walking back to the prince he is swore to.

The King wheezes, putting all of his effort in walking up the stairs. However, after only two steps, his crown fell from his head, dryly clinking in the floor. He groaned, closing his eyes, feeling even more pathetic.

Right after the crown fell, Daera let go of her father's arm, curving her brows. He immediately abandoned her side, walking not to the throne, but to his brother.

Viserys furrows his brows when he hears the crown being lifted from the floor.

-I said I'm fine-, he hisses.

But when he looks up, he finds no strange knight, but his little brother instead. Daemon looks at him with softness, slowly grabbing his arm.

-Come on-, he mumbles.

Viserys groans, closing his eyes for a second, and then he began to walk the stairs up again, now with Daemon watching and helping each of his steps, not minding his slowness and constant wheezes. The King looks at him, briefly, and then it sounded like he sobbed, with a feeling different from the pain of before. He's thankful.

-Steady-, the younger brother whispers.

Daera caress her own hands, looking at there with a moved expression, mixed with hurt. She glances at her siblings, who glanced back at her with tiny smiles of the same feelings. Daera weakly smiles at them too and, then, she glanced at her husband from across the room. He is staring at his father, but not in the same way as she. Aemond is coldly glaring at her uncle, and she almost immediately understoon why, making her to gulp.

The King of The Seven Kingdoms finally seats on his throne, breathing heavily. His brother, The Rogue Prince, carefully and delicately placed The Crown of Jaehaerys on his head, where it fits perfectly.

Viserys sighs tiredly, looking up at Daemon. And Daemon looks down at him, furrowing his blonde brows with sadness and almost like shame, slightly nodding.

Afterwards, as The King acommodates himself in the throne, Daemon walks back to his family, with his gaze down. Rhaenyra, still taking everything in, caress her belly as she walks closer to her children again, checking on them with her eyes.

Softly, Daera grabs her father's arm again, interlocking her elbow with his, and giving him a light smile of support. Daemon looks at her with loosen eyes, placing a hand over hers, and patting it.

-I must...-. Everyone looks at The King when he speaks-...admit...-, he breathes heavily-...my confusion-. He said.

The wide great hall stays silent.

-That's a good start-. Daera mumbled, and Jace smirked tinyly, glancing at her.

-I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession-. Viserys keeps talking. Vaemond's heart stopped right at that moment, and Alicent blinked with heaviness, already knowing how this will end. Aemond gulps, not wanting to believe it-. The only present...who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes, is the Princess Rhaenys-. The King stated.

Every gaze turned to look at The Lady of Driftmark, who have a fast blink towards her cousin, quickly answering him.

-Indeed, your grace-. She agrees.

Rhaenys briefly glances at Ser Vaemond, and then she starts walking front, also glancing at her grandchildren, who all looked at her with attention. Rhaena's eyes are shining with hope.

-It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor, to his trueborn son-. The princess states, confidently speaking-, Lucerys Velaryon-. She names, and the boy's puppy eyes looked at her, glimming, as well as his mother's own-. His mind never changed, nor did my support of him-. She declares.

Daera sucks her cheeks to the inside, drawing a smirk on her face. She and Jace looked at each other, and then they both stare at Luke, nodding with pride.

Alicent's eyes are teary. Aemond has noticed it by the corner of his eye, and just feels like everyone and everything has failed her, failed him. The One-Eyed Prince stares at his sileng mother, feeling his heart pounding ill feelings.

-As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son, Luke, to Lord Corlys's youngest gradddaughter, Rhaena-. Rhaenys informs with her brows raised, and the mumbles of the court hiss in the air. Lucerys looks over his shoulder, finding Rhaena smiling at him with warmness, one that made his cheeks to blush-. A proposal to which I heartily agree, as I very did with the marriage of princess Rhaenyra's firstborn, prince Jacaerys, and my husband and I's first granddaughter, princess Daera-. She remembers, smirking.

The whispers in the court go around as everybody is thinking the same thing. The girls have Velaryon blood as they have Targaryen's as well. One is married to the future Bastard King, and the other will be soon married with the future Bastard Lord of The Tides. This is their solution...for the second time.

Daera pressed her lips lightly, still not use to hear herself being named as Jace's wife. She reaches for her true husband's gaze, wanting to see what his reaction was. And he is...lost. His eye is staring at a blank point, disconnected completely from everything. Instantly concerned, she swallows hard.

-Well...the matter is settled-. Viserys's voice speaks from the throne, echoing in the hall-...again-, he sighs.

Aegon tried to avoid it, though he truly didn't, but he lifted his lips with amusement and he gaged a low laugh from deep his throat. His baggy eyes shined, relieved. His brother, at the contrary, is in trance, having a thousand thoughts and none at once.

Injustice is the word on his mind.

-I hereby reaffirm...-. When The King started to say those words, Rhaenyra pressed a smile on her lips as she turned to look at her second son, lovingly grabbing his arm. Jace and Rhaena smiled as well, proudly-...prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of The Tides-. He firnly states.

Daemon and Daera stare at The Greens, serious. Aegon, Aemond and Otto looked at the named heir with the same expressions on their faces, none of them happy, while Helaena looked as well, only that curiously, and a little confused. Alicent didn't even think of moving her eyes, and she just kept them away.

The Rogue Prince and Princess, holding their elbows together, stared at them with the same staidness, blinkless. Their family fighted to hide their smiles, glancing at Luke, and then they all looked at Vaemond, who is with his brows furrowed.

Daera looked down and sided her mouth with a prideful smile, feeling the relief getting hold of her heart, at last.

The King wheezes, and princess Rhaenys starts walking back to her place, after sharing a brief smile with Rhaenyra. She proudly returned to Baela, lovingly holding her hands.

-You break law...-, Vaemond's voice covers the hall from a moment to another.

-This motherfucker-, Daera immediately sighed tiredly, rolling her eyes blank.

-And centuries of tradition, to install your daughter as heir-. The defeated Velaryon man says, raising his brows with taunt as he walks, again, to the front of the hall-. Yet you dare tell me...who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon-, he hisses, insulted. Aemond starts to narrow his eye, interested in the matter again-. No-, he harshly whispered.

Before that tone, Daera truly stopped smiling, cautious.

-Father...-, she whispers, doubty.

-I will not allow it-. Vaemond denied and, as he did, Daemon stared at his older daughter with a cocky easiness, and then at him, in silence.

-What the fuck is he doing?-, Daera mumbles, anxious. Jace blinks serious at her side.

-"Allow it"?-. Viserys repeats, confused-. Do not forget yourself, Vaemond-. He ordered, narrowing his eye.

Aemond looks at Vaemond, expecting for something, anything. He sees the brown-skinned man is nearly starting to tremble, witnessing how his house's destiny is being toyed with.

-THAT...!-, and Vaemond shouted, from a moment to another, abruptly turning around to point at Lucerys. Many startled at that moment, including him, while Daera gasped and instantly let go of her father's arm, nearing to her brother-, is no true Velaryon!-. He blames with poison and despair, with his eyes full of hate.

-You've said your piece already, Vaemond!-. Daera harshly speaks as she reaches Luke, stepping in front of him. The boy flinches, raising his brows at her. Aemond looks towards there with bitterness, seeing his shield of a wife.

-And certainly...-, Vaemond faces The King again, ignoring his bratty niece-, no nephew of mine-. He denied.

-Go to your chambers-. Within a second, Rhaenyra passed a hand besides Daera and pushed Lucerys behind-. You have said enough-, she harshly says to the man.

Lucerys opens his mouth, shocked, looking at the two women in front of him. His mother, and his older sister, the both of them shielding him as if he was made of glass.

-Lucerys is my true-born grandson-. The King pointed, keeping calm-. And you...are no more, than the second son of Driftmark-, he tilted his head.

Aemond opens his lips, turning to look deeply at his father, of the few times he has done it. The second son of his house, he is. A waste, a no one, a "just in case" person. Is that what his father meant? Of course it fucking is.

Helpless, and insulted, Vaemon felt his pressed lips trembling for a second, until he opened them again.

-You...!-, he harshly starts. Daera clenches her teeth, still standing in front of Lucerys, sharing a cold glance with her father-, may run your house, as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine!-. His voice is firm and loud, wanting everyone to hear his pleadings-. My house survived The Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides!-. The man grunts, outraged, to The Deaf King.

Rhaena and Baela look between each other, worried and desperately wanting this to be over already. Their older sister, Daera, doesn't flinchs for a second as her fists are tighted to the sides of her bloody skirt.

-And gods be damned!-. Vaemond suddenly turns around, hissing, facing the boy again, who is mouth-opened, shielded by his sister. He still could see those blue eyes of the faker-. I will not see it ended, on the account of this...!-

Every heart in the hall stopped for a second in that moment. Daera clenched her teeth and lifted her chin, opening her eyes big.

-...Say it-, prince Daemon's soft voice echoed in the room.

Blinkless, Vaemond started to slowly direct his gaze towards him.

In the meantime, Viserys breathes heavily from the throne, trusting that this wouldn't reach higher levels. Alicent stares there, thinking of the word time after time, while Otto cautiously reads the scene. Helaena closes her eyes, worried. And Aemond didn't want him to say it, he wanted him to scream it, to say it so fucking loudly that even in The Wall the people know that Rhaenyra's sons are...

Vaemond forms a burlesque and reckless smirk on his lips, staring at The Rogue Prince. Not only he is challenging him, but his daughter as well has. Father and daughter, and everyone else, apparently, keep mocking and making fun of him, threatening him.

And that pushed him off his edge.

-Her children...-, Vaemond smiles-...are BASTARDS!-. He shouted loudly and madly, opening his mouth big.

The entire hall heated up within a second with murmurs and gasps. The King leans front on the throne, outraged. The whole family flinched on their places, shocked.

Lucerys opened his trembling mouth, and in that very moment Daera startled as she drew her hands back and grabed his, tightly, shielding him more with her eyes opened big as she feels her heart twirling.

-And she...-, Vaemond whispers, slowly facing The king.

Jace clenches his jaw, Rhaena curves her brows, Lucerys breathes fastly, Baela shakes her head, and Daera narrows her eyes.

-Is...-, Vaemond scrunches his nose, hissing.

Rhaenyra opens her mouth.

-...a whore-, Vaemond shamelessly declared.

The gasps in the hall were countless in that moment, all of them loud and shocked. Daera froze strongly, feeling her veins burning up in fire.

For a brief second, she stared front. And, while Helaena blinked and looked away with discomfort, Aemond drew the meanest of smirks on his face, not hiding it at all.

His wife blinks, outraged.

With shaky and trembling breaths, The King starts to stand up from his throne, furious.

Daera stopped looking at her husband when a hurried menacing person walks by her side. Daemon. She immediately gasps, strongly pushing his arm, and taking a step back.

-Look away, look away!-. Daera quickly commands to her siblings with a loud tone, but they were too focused on the fuss.

-I...!-, Viserys speaks breathless, unsheathing his dagger with rage-, will have your tongue for that!-, he roared.

-Look away!-, Daera shrieked.

Vaemond's head flies in the air.

Helaena gasped covering her ears and instantly looking away.

Alicent flinched and fastly turned around, grabbing her arms.

Aegon uncrossed his hands and his lips fell loose.

Ser Erryk startled.

Otto barely had the time to raise his brows.

Aemond stepped back with an open gaze.

Vaemond's body fall on his knees.

Rhaenyra opened her shocked lips.

Jace saw in trance the falling corpse.

Daera jumped and touched her belly.

Luke's mouth fell in terror.

Rhaena whined breathless.

Vaemond's body staggered for a second.

Rhaenys flinches with her lips closed.

Baela grabs her arm and steps back with her mouth open.

Vaemond's body fell on the floor, right besides the half of his head.

The Rogue Prince crosses his hands over Dark Sister's handle, staring down at the corpse with an unfazed expression, seeing all the dripping blood from below his...well, this is ironic.

-He can keep his tongue-, he innocently says, nodding.

-Oh for the fucks sake-, Daera whispered with no breath. Luke gasps behind her.

-DISARM HIM!-, Otto's desperate voice made all the guards to take out their swords towards the prince, and Alicent to flinch scared, still holding her daughter.

-No need-. Daemon sings, burlesque, cleaning his sword with his cape, walking back to his family.

For the second time since his father arrived, Aemond smiles, thoughtfuly. He stares at the bleeding corpse, and then opens his eye big, bemused, staring up at the father of his wife.

...Is it that easy?, he thinks.

Viserys starts groaning, agonizing, falling harshly seated on the throne. Alicent immediately turns to see him, highly concerned.

-Call the maesters!-, she loudly yells, running towards there.

-Father?-. Worried, Rhaenyra heads there too.

All the countless chatters in the hall start again as The Queen and The Princess headed to the throne.

Daera looks at Vaemond's body, slowly shaking her head. Then, she comes to realize the fasted and uncontrolled breathing behind her.

Within a second, she turns around, and gasps when finding Luke's extreme paleness.

-Luke!-, Daera gasps, immediately holding his shoulders and making him to turn around. The boy whines, shaking-. Fuck, fuck, wake up you two!-. She also reaches Jace and Rhaena, who flinched with their mouths opened-. I told you all to look away, hells!-. The princess curses, starting to walk, and taking her little brother with her.

-Oh my gods-. Jace mumbles, blinkless.

-Luke, you- you can't see blood!-. Rhaena recalled with a thin voice, quickly walking besides them.

-That's why I told him to look away!-. Daera reproaches, agitated, seeing him limping and gasping with every step they take.

-You- you are covered in blood anyways! What does it matters?!-. Lucerys yells, breathless, strongly closing his eyes.

-Fair-, the princess mumbled-. Alright, okay, let's just get out of here, now!-. She raises her brows, and fastly counts the heads of her siblings-. Where is Bae-? Baela!-, she sighs right when she sees her coming.

-Oh gods, Luke, you know you can't see blood!-. Baela says, stressed, quickly walking with them.

-Argh!-, the boy shrieks, going with his eyes closed.

-Let's get out of here, come on!-. Jace insists, shaking a little, walking faster to open the doors for them.

-We- we- we need to drink tea-. Rhaena proposes, taking Luke's hand, and making him to sigh shakily. The red came back to his face.

As she walks out of The Iron Throne hall, Daera turns her head around. And, with this, her eyes locked up with Aemond's, who is also taking Helaena out of the room by another of the exits, and he as well had turned his face to search for her.

When the spouses looked at each other, both of their gazes turned into stone, the most cursed stone of Harrenhal.

The One-Eyed Prince and The Rogue Princess stared harshly, both of them thinking about all the shit the other did during the hearing of their families.

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#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #targaryen #aemondtargaryen #the one eyed prince #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen fanfic #if villain bad why hot #baela targaryen #oc character #oc character house of the dragon #oc x aemond targaryen #daera targaryen #the dance of the dragons #helaena targaryen

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 2 months

Text

These Tender Hearts Beat as One

Aemond x widowed!female character

Summary: Aemond reunites with his childhood friend, a former ward of his mother || Word Count: 7k || Warnings: too much fucking backstory lol, p in v sex, breeding kink

Aemond could always tell when his mother was stressed. Out of all her silver-haired children, her second son had seemed the most adept at knowing before she even knew herself. All that remained was for him to discover the root of her worries, and calm her ever-heightening nerves if he could.

When Aemond was stressed, angered or oftentimes merely bored, nothing truly compared to the feeling of riding Vhagar, splitting through the air above King’s Landing to stretch her large, tattered wings. His beloved dragon appreciated the exercise in any case, restless from her days fought in wars, it was some consolation for him that flying was just as therapeutic for her as it was for him.

But when his dear mother was stressed, it was rooted in self-destruction, picking ceaselessly at her fingernails ‘til they were bloody and sore. And though he bit his tongue, not wishing to replicate the behaviour of his grandfather, sometimes it felt near impossible not to say anything, not to ask what was on her mind. So that whatever was swirling around her head with panic, could instead be shared out, and therefore less weight for her to carry.

Had Aegon done something perhaps?

Was there more trouble with Rhaenyra?

Or perhaps his father had said something to upset her, which seemed the most likely. Even in his sickly state, he was still capable of unknowing cruelty.

Even at five and ten, Aemond understood this.

His mother remained quiet, and it was not ‘til he sought out the company of his dear friend, that the truth became clear.

She had been his mother’s ward for little more than three years, and already Aemond had witnessed her enter the Keep as a clumsy, loud child and blossom into what many would consider a young woman already grown, though she was little older than Helaena.

Her age in comparison to him had never once strained their friendship. In fact, at first, when Aemond was still freshly scarred emotionally by the trauma of losing his eye, he had remembered clapping his lone eye on her and scowling, thinking of her little more than a quarrelsome child.

And, as Aegon had put it, ‘aggressively annoying’.

Which, at the time, was true enough. And yet it did not deter her from trying, Aemond would allow her the compliment of that.

She was much like him, a child created and born as a sort of secondary plan in case the first did not come to pass. A mere second daughter, and not only that, but bumped even further down the chain by her three older brothers, the eldest already wed with several children of his own. It was made abundantly clear by her own parents that she was merely another nuisance and therefore when placed into the care of the Targaryen royal family, the look of relief on their faces somewhat angered him, coupled by the manner in which they left with a goodbye that rivalled his own father’s attitude towards his children.

His empathy for her situation had drawn him to her, despite his stubbornness in wanting to pretend he did not crave friendship, especially from a girl. And her own stubbornness surprised him when he discovered she did not blindly seek the acceptance of any similar-aged child, she set her sights on Aemond alone and did not relent until eventually, he came to her instead.

He found a camaraderie with her that he had yet to find with his other siblings, feeling very much like friendship with her was more natural and spontaneous, where the ones with his family were calculated, planned and rooted in a cold necessity to keep up appearances.

Not that she cared much for appearances.

Her Septa berated her for what seemed like every other day for turning up to her needlepoint lessons with dirtied skirts and stray petals in her tangled hair, all from chasing one another through the bushes of the Keep to find some entertainment. Yet, even in the face of punishment, her smile never faltered, and insisted that it was all a bit of fun.

She somehow managed to inject her bright personality into his otherwise darkened life.

Because of her, there was beauty in everything. There was serenity in sitting in the Godswood and watching the petals settle in the breeze that ran past his neck and made him shiver. There was a startling allure when he introduced her to Vhagar for the first time and her hand ran across her darkened scales, seeing her expression lift in sheer wonder, experiencing her bewilderment as if it were the first time. And there was virtue in the innocence of their relationship, and how his heart began to swell with a childlike sense of belonging in her.

The unconditional power of her friendship he was sure was all he ever needed. In the way she always uttered, dragged away for her lessons in etiquette, but beaming at him.

‘My friendship is always yours,’ she would say, like a mantra.

‘Just as mine shall always be.’

He thought for a long while that he was the most hideous person in this world, not least since Aegon had dragged him to the brothels only a few years before. And yet when he shared a chaste kiss with her under the Weirwood tree. Clumsy and impractical and yet all magical all at once, he thought that when he was older, stronger, he would ask her to be his wife.

Aemond could feel the anxiety seeping off her as soon as he stepped into her chambers. Like she had a lot on her mind but not the courage to open her mouth and say it.

“What is it?”

His heart lurched into his chest when she lifted her head, swallowing her feelings and taking a deep, shaky breath.

“My sister has succumbed to a fever. She is dead.”

Aemond sighed, as if absorbing her grief. But when he took one step forward to comfort his friend, she shook her head, “there is more.”

Her tone of voice alone was enough to set every nerve on edge. Aemond stood as if stuck to the flagstone floor, and realised that the once clumsy, small girl he had once known was acting very much like a young woman now. Worlds apart, despite being stood before her.

“I am to honour the planned betrothal with Lord Lefford, under my father’s orders.”

It was the only moment Aemond remembered wanting to vomit with nausea, he had not felt such churning in his gut even on the day he lost his eye.

She sat, looking at him as if to gauge his reaction to the news, knowing perhaps in her own heart the feelings that were shared between them. And Aemond felt his churning nausea turn to anger, at how easily she had allowed her will to be broken by a command from her father, which in his opinion, she need not obey. She was, after all, a near half a decade younger than her sister, and the man in question older than her own father.

How could she have given up like this so easily.

“You will go through with this?”

He did not mean for his tone of voice to appear accusatory, but when he saw that wide-eyed helpless expression, he knew immediately it had.

“I can hardly argue with my father, Aemond.”

He felt his fists clench hard in his hand, fingernails creating crescent shaped indents in his flesh that reddened, his reply is stiff, “you simply act as if you have no choice in the matter.”

“Not all of us get one.”

“You cannot leave.”

“I must,” she insists, her voice breaking somewhat at the look of disappointment and betrayal on his face, “please do not make this more difficult than it already is, Aemond.”

“I am not the one making this difficult,” he replies flatly, his head throbbing with an incoming migraine, “If you are as much my friend as I am yours, you will not leave me.”

She could feel herself stepping towards him, drawn by some invisible force for comfort that he was not yet providing. She knew he could be capable of being cruel, but to be on the receiving end after all they had gone through was heart-breaking.

And though she was a year his senior, standing so small before him, she felt so much a child.

“Aemond, please-” she begged, reaching out for him and wincing when he pulled away, his brows drawn together in disgust.

“Marry him and I shall never speak to you again.”

Her hand dropped to her side as if limp, as if all life had drained from her body as well as the colour from her face. Her lip quivered, “you can't mean that.”

He looked in her eyes, the raw grief of watching her slip away filling him with an unmistakable bitterness, though for what? Her? Himself? Their friendship? He could not put it into words.

“I mean every word.”

That is the last memory he has of her, looking every bit as broken as he'd intended her to feel. In the days that followed, as her family arrived once more to steal her away, Aemond felt the gnawing grip of regret when he chose not to see her off at the courtyard, watching from his window as she scanned the space around for her good friend's presence and didn't find it.

It was then Aemond began to hate himself for every bit of cruelty enacted against her from him. Her carriage disappeared into the distance until it was nothing, leaving a pit of pain in his heart.

Not a day passed that Aemond did not at least think of her and wait for any correspondence to arrive, with his name etched into the paper in her curved, feminine handwriting.

But as he'd feared, she had taken his words to heart, and no letter ever arrived, and eventually, it felt no use counting the days and moons since he'd last seen her.

The guilt would eat away at him for years, the memory of her pained expression etched into his vision. Even as he grew into a man, it would never fully fade, though he was quick to tell himself that he shouldn’t care, that she was no longer the same girl he had loved so much, not since she chose her own fate.

In an attempt to fill the hole she'd left behind, he busied himself with the sword, intent with some level of obsession at becoming the most skilled swordsman in Westeros.

Aemond would train for hours at a time, the dull ache deep within him pushed away by the strain of sparring drills and intense workouts with the sword. Though even in the midst of training, his thoughts would always be in the back of his mind, taunting him with the guilt that he felt, the shame of how he had treated her at the end.

By itself, it was not enough, but even burying his nose in books did not blur that heavy ache. But it did not mean he could not at least try.

Which is why he sighed in annoyance as he sat by the fireplace in his chambers, a large tome opened in his lap and two knocks rapped at the door.

“Enter.”

He did not tear his attention away as the maidservant entered with a short and quick curtsy, hands clasped, “Your grace, Queen Alicent has requested your presence.”

That alone was enough to draw his attention away from his reading. His mother did not request him for a small matter.

He had wondered if perhaps Aegon had managed to slip out of the Keep again, for yet another one of his excursions into Flea Bottom, and send him to retrieve his brother.

Perhaps his mother finally thought enough time had passed and he was much of a man to suggest a marriage proposal. For some reason, the thought made him ill.

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” he heard his mother say in a muffled tone once he was announced.

Aemond raised his gaze to his mother, relieved to see her calm, and dare he say, happy.

“Aemond,” she greeted softly, her smile gentle and her touch on his arms comforting, “do not look so forlorn.”

“You wished to see me.”

“I did,” Alicent beamed, clasping her hands at her front, “Come.”

He could not help but give a puzzled expression as he walked beside his mother through the winding halls of the Keep, wondering perhaps why her behaviour was so different than usual. A sort of anxiety fed through her, but not the self-destructive kind.

“We are to receive some guests today. I would like you to greet them.”

Aemond quirked a brow, confused and somewhat annoyed in equal measure, “I am not accustomed to greeting-”

“They have travelled a long way, so remember to be courteous,” Alicent added, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles, which only served to confuse Aemond further. His mother led him to the top of the staircase of the empty, echoing foyer and instructed quickly, “do be a gracious host, Aemond.”

He did not have a mere moment to question her, before he was watching the back of his mother disappear down the very same hallway they had just walked together. All he managed was a baffled shake of his head, as if by some miracle this was all some mad dream he had conjured. He questioned why on earth his mother would allow him to greet these esteemed guests alone, out of all her antisocial children.

But ever dutiful, he descended the stairs, hearing the low voice of Ser Westerling greeting whomever was arriving in a warm, formal tone, with their silhouettes casting blurred shadows onto the flagstone floor. Aemond’s feet were planted firmly on the step without even realising it.

This esteemed guest was no stranger to him.

Though the years had matured her gracefully, Aemond is sure he would recognise her anywhere, as she looked every bit the same as that day he regretted seeing her carriage leave King’s Landing. She stood tall, her cape fastened at her front with her house crest nestled in the middle, her dark skirts framing her womanly figure as her eyes trailed the details of the Keep that had changed since she had last been there.

Aemond stared wordlessly, the emotions so long buried resurfacing as if they had never left. His breath felt hot, his mind struggling to accept what his lone eye beheld before him. That she was here after so many years separated, in the very flesh, and yet he was unable to utter a single word.

She wandered about the space, commenting to the young woman beside her, who carried a child no older than three in her arms, how it had all looked so much larger in her youth. So he took this moment where she had not yet noticed him to look upon her with wonder, frozen entirely in place with the unexpectedness of her return. His mind raced with the thoughts of what this meeting could mean, for him, for her, and for their future; and he could not deny the strong tug of guilt in his chest for how he had treated her all those years ago, and how her renewed presence only made them more real.

Clearing his throat as he approached, the lady beside her noticed him first, “Prince Aemond,” she greeted with a curtsy, prompting her also to lay her eyes on him once more.

“Your grace,” she smiled warmly with a quick curtsy, with such a formality that made his heart ache.

He craned his head to bow lightly at her, “My Lady,” he replied with some stiffness, before gazing once more into her friendly, soft eyes and allowing his shoulders to relax, “I wondered perhaps if you would recognise me.”

Her laugh made his stomach flip, “I do not think I could ever forget you. Though I must confess, I wondered the same for myself.”

Her smile could not be described as anything less than perfect and a feeling that he harboured for her so long ago began to creep back in before he could stop it, “my Lady, I must apologise right away.”

But she shook her head, looking down at her hands, “it was a long time ago.”

He did not wish to upset her further by mentioning such an incident that had harmed his pride since, but knew that her memories of it were just as vivid as his own, “And I have not forgotten. You did what was expected for a lady in your position, and yet I was too selfish to understand that at the time. Please forgive me.”

He could not take the desperation out his tone, no matter how hard he tried. And still, she smiled sadly at his words.

“You must know that I did not wish to leave you.”

“I do,” he replied quickly, the memories of his guilt burning a hole in his throat, trying to hide the bitterness he felt towards himself, “I must confess - I have missed you greatly.”

Her hands clasped at her front, she blinked slowly and swallowed thickly, “I have missed you too.”

The silence stretched between them. Years of separation and longing had left them both yearning, but lacking the courage of knowing what to say. Aemond cleared his throat, his hands behind his back with anxiety, seeing that her ‘favoured’ husband was still not yet present.

“Are we to receive your husband as well?” he asked with some stiffness, or perhaps bitterness.

She cocked her head ever so slightly, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, until a small smile of realisation graced her features, “I regret to inform you I am recently widowed.”

In any other situation, Aemond would have been mortified at her reply. But with her smile came a rush of realisation himself, and hope swelled in his heart, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, hoping to all the gods that she could not see the way his thought ran wild in his head, and made his breeches tighten, “Widowed-”

“Indeed. I am sorry to disappoint you, my Prince. In truth, I have just come out of mourning,” she nodded, biting back another coy smile, showing in her mannerisms that it was no great loss to her.

“I am sorry for your loss, my Lady.”

She shook her head softly, “my husband left a suitable will, so that my child and I live comfortably and so there is no need for me to pursue future marriages should I not wish to.”

Her careful wording was not lost on him, and Aemond could not help the sense of glee at this new and recent change in her life, the bitter anger at having lost her to some decrepit old man years previous seemingly dissipating. And yet despite this, he attempted to keep it hidden, not wishing to seem disrespectful to her late husband.

“Might I present you my daughter,” she added, taking the child from the woman beside her into her own and resting the shy young girl on her hip. The child’s wide-eyed innocent expression unapologetically took all of Aemond in, as children often do, and he was reminded very much of his dear friend when she was small.

She was the image of her mother, save for the slightly lighter hair, with every feature of her etched into her daughter’s youthful face. And the reality of such similarities made him feel both joy and sorrow all at once.

“She is beautiful.” His voice was quiet, seeing the child in her arms was shy and reserved, unlike her mother, but thankful somewhat that her little one was not in the slightest alike to the man she had been forced to marry. Looking into the eyes of her child felt much like staring at the girl he once knew, and with that, a rush of affection.

Aemond thought, that in different circumstances, this child could have been theirs, a shared expression of their affections for one another. That all those years ago, had her father not coerced her into honouring her late sister’s betrothal, that she and Aemond would have their own children by now.

Before he could think too long, the small girl whined in her arms and she put her down immediately, the little patter of childish feet nearly had Aemond break into a grin, watching her run off with the nursemaid chasing behind.

“I am afraid she is a curious little thing. Like mother like daughter I suppose”, she smiled brightly.

Aemond nodded, the rush of memories bringing a wistful smile to his face, “Like mother like daughter,” was all he managed to reply, watching the mischievousness unfold. Yet, once the child and the nursemaid had left them alone, she chuckled softly, feeling his heartbeat slow in pace with hers.

“May I confess something to you, without fear of judgement?” Aemond asked, his heart thudding as she nodded in return, “You may think me foolish, but I must confess that my mind still lingers on the memories of our time together, and I have found no way to erase the feelings they carry with them - your return to King’s Landing has only reinforced them,” he confessed, looking into her warm gaze, “for now, when I look at you, I cannot help but feel just as I did then.”

He watched her swallow thickly, and take a deep, meaningful breath, like what she was going to say would be heavy, “and, what feelings are those, might I ask?”

His heart felt as it was beating so fast it was cracking his ribs, throat closing with anxiety. The feelings he had tried so hard to hide with a mask of bitterness now overflowing with terrifying intensity. Yet, to say such feelings out loud to her, someone he had trusted so much in his youth, made it feel all the more real. And as he stared into her eyes, he wanted nothing more than for her to share them, despite their years of absence from one another.

“That I love you - and have from the moment I met you.”

The words came out quickly, and as soon as he uttered them he felt his cheeks grow hot, knowing her response was either one way or the other and that he, a man so long disconnected from his own feelings, hiding them with his pride for so many years, was now opening up his vulnerability.

He wanted her to love him. So desperately.

She sighed quietly in relief, “I have loved you as well. And I was saddened to have left you - and will forever be vehemently sorry for that.”

Though his relief was palpable, but he shook his head first, “You were right then, and always have been, that you had no choice or opinion in the matter. Therefore, I will accept no apologies.”

Her eyes glistened with emotion at his words, and when Aemond stepped forward and took her cheek in his palm, her breath hitched in such a way he was sure they would spill forth in tears. But the strong person she had always been, she held them back.

“I feared - you would not desire me,” she confessed quietly.

Aemond smirked, “It may take more than a few years of separation to extinguish what was once there. I have loved you since that day beneath the Weirwood Tree, and I will love you until this life ends and the next one begins.”

She gave a watery smile at his sweet words, “though I have been wed once already with a child?”

He was silent for a moment as he considered her question, and not a bit of him even wondered whether it were possible, “my love is no fickle thing,” he smiled, “in time I hope I may become as close as a father to her as I may become a husband to you.”

He watched as her unshed tears formed a constellation on her eyelashes, but a relieved smile graced her delicate features. Aemond could not remember the last time he had been this close to her, able to detect the delicate scents brushed through her hair and the way her cheeks warmed at the close proximity between them, and undeniable tension.

The thought of kissing her, having her to himself, made something arousing tighten in his breeches, to his embarrassment.

He drew in a breath, leaning forward to capture her lips, but both drew back a pace suddenly.

“My Lady! Would you care to join us for supper this evening,” Alicent smiled brightly, as if knowing some great secret seeing them both stood straight and blushing. And she had to take a moment to think and stammer out her reply,

“Oh - yes, I would be delighted-”

“Wonderful! I shall see you to your chambers,” the Queen beamed, giving Aemond a sideways glance as the two women he most respected in life walked alongside one another.

He felt as if the entire evening was a true test of his will and determination. Aemond is certain Alicent meant no ill will by inviting the woman he unequivocally loved to supper with his family; but as he sat beside her, remembering how close he had been just a few hours before, it was almost as if everyone around him was aware and simply dangling the situation in front of his face.

And he cursed any god that existed that Aegon was not drowned in his cups that night, as he usually was. On this night, he was frustratingly lucid and hyper-aware.

Helaena, at first, was impartial to the sudden get-together, but as soon as she and Helaena saw one another, it was as if no time at all had passed. They were, of course, the same age when she had been his mother's ward, and as well as with Aemond, had formed a close friendship.

The princess was of course eager to catch up, and even invited her up to dance, to which she happily obliged as Aemond watched from his spot at the table. It was nice to see Helaena happy for a change.

A sorrowful thought had occurred to Aemond that both his friend and Helaena were pressured into marriages and motherhood far too young. And seeing them very much acting like young girls with one another, only exacerbated this feeling.

They talked quickly with excitement, planning to have their children meet up with one another and play in the gardens. And while they were engrossed in conversation, Aegon slid next to his brother, with a knowing smirk on his face.

“She is just as animated as I remember,” the young prince smirked, raising his eyebrows at Aemond over the rim of his cup.

“I will hear none of your depravity about her.”

Aegon threw him a faux-offended expression, “I had not even got there yet. Do you have such a low opinion of me?”

Aemond ignored him and sipped his own Dornish Red.

“You wish to marry her.”

“And you are perceptive.”

“Gods, I love it when you compliment me.”

“And insufferable.”

“What makes you think grandfather will allow you to marry her anyway? He's a dry old cunt, he will not care if you love her or not. He would have you wed to some plain-faced twat from who-knows-where.”

For one infuriatingly brief moment, Aemond had to concede that Aegon was probably right. And with one restless finger tapping against the table, he glanced over at his mother and grandfather suspiciously squished together on one end of the table, leaning towards each other and whispering in low voices, with Otto Hightower looking at his beloved friend from beneath his brow.

They were talking about her. Discussing her. And by the expression on his grandfather, analysing her.

Aemond felt his heart beat faster at the prospect that they were speaking so secretively about her without her knowledge. It seemed a stark contrast to the way the two women on the other side of the table were laughing and smiling brightly, something so rarely seen on Helaena’s face nowadays.

“She is no maiden, that is for certain. Though if you are lucky, perhaps only the first three inches of her have been tainted by Lefford’s withered old cock.”

Aemond wrinkled his nose at Aegon’s depraved quip, despite his somewhat polite request for him not too. Perhaps he’d expected too much courtesy from his elder brother. Or perhaps, more likely, with the exciting renewed presence of Lord Lefford’s widow, Aegon felt the need to perform, and exaggerate his usual unfortunate traits of his personality.

“‘Tis almost as worse as our dear sister being wed to me.”

“I am certain there is nothing worse than that,” Aemond replied quickly, behind the rim of his cup, failing to keep his gaze from forever drifting to the figure of her from across the candles and ornaments.

Aemond found himself captivated by the way she moved, the subtle grace in her gestures that spoke volumes of the woman she had become. Gone was the innocence of youth, replaced by a quiet strength and resilience that only seemed to enhance her beauty. He couldn't help but notice the way her laughter rang out like music, filling the room with warmth and light. It was a sound he had missed more than he cared to admit, a reminder of simpler times when they were just children with the world at their feet.

But now, as he watched her twirl across the dance floor with Helaena, there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence. It was as if she had blossomed into a flower, her petals unfurling to reveal a depth and complexity that left him breathless.

He attempted not to move too quickly once the festivities were over, afraid of showing her in his actions his desperation to be close to her as he offered his arm, “might I see you to your chambers, my Lady?”

She gave a shy smile that morphed into one of amusement, and Aemond is sure he felt something akin to that stomach-flipping sensation when he was flying out on Vhagar when her hand rested on the inside of his forearm, “Very well.”

Aemond chose to ignore the low snicker of his elder brother, showing him his back instead, with the woman he loved on his arm.

“You are aware I know this Keep better than I do my own home, and am perfectly capable of finding my chambers myself?” she said with a teasing lilt.

Aemond couldn't help but chuckle softly, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. "Forgive me, my Lady. It seems my chivalry gets the better of me in your presence."

Her laughter rang out, filling the silence with warmth. "Chivalry or a desire to prolong our conversation, Prince Aemond?"

He felt a surge of joy at the playful banter, grateful for the opportunity to spend even a few moments alone with her. "Perhaps a bit of both, my Lady. Though I must admit, the thought of your company is a temptation I find hard to resist."

She looked at her feet, as if to hide the rising warmth to her face, “I must confess, it is nice to once again be somewhere familiar, with the company I admire most. When my husband was alive it could often get rather lonely.”

Aemond fell quiet for a moment, swallowing thickly, trying to navigate his feelings in the midst of a difficult situation, “I hope that he was kind to you.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes revealing a depth of gratitude that stirred something within him. "He had his moments," she admitted with a small smile, "but kindness was not his strongest suit. Still, I suppose I cannot fault him entirely. He provided for me in his own way."

Aemond could sense the underlying weight in her words, the unspoken struggles she had endured beneath the facade of mere cordiality. He didn't need to ask to know that her late husband had been less than supportive.

"You deserve far more than just provision, my Lady," he said earnestly, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

Aemond could almost feel his heart sink as he had realised they were stood before her chamber doors, her hand slipping from his arm, and yet a fire stoking fierce then at the thought of an invitation inside.

She clasped her hands delicately, her warm eyes meeting his with a gentle intensity. "I couldn't help but notice Queen Alicent and the Lord Hand engaged in such ceaseless conversation," she remarked, her voice soft and thoughtful. "I do not wish to presume—"

Aemond, catching the subtle implication in her words, swiftly interjected, "I cannot claim to know their exact sentiments." His gaze met hers, offering reassurance without a hint of desperation. "But I refuse to allow something as trivial as their approval to deter me. I've already endured the pain of losing you once."

There was a quiet determination in his voice, a resolve that mirrored the fire in her own eyes. In that moment, they shared an unspoken understanding, a mutual agreement to pursue their feelings despite the potential obstacles that lay ahead.

She nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Your courage is admirable, Prince Aemond. But we must proceed cautiously. The court is a web of intricate politics, and our actions could have far-reaching consequences."

Her words were crafted in such a way that reminded him of her personality in their youth, understanding of the repercussions and yet boldly standing tall in the face of them. And with her small, mischievous smile, he knew all the same that whatever she uttered was only done so to extend her cordiality.

"I understand," he replied, his tone tinged with determination. "But I cannot ignore what my heart tells me."

"Nor can I," she admitted softly, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve.

Silence settled between them for a moment, the weight of their unspoken desires hanging in the air. Then, with a subtle shift in her demeanour, she turned towards her chamber door. Without a word, she reached out and gently pushed it open, leaving it ajar. A silent invitation hung in the air, enticing Aemond to step inside.

Aemond's heart skipped a beat as he watched her gesture, his pulse quickening with anticipation. Without hesitation, he took a step forward, drawn irresistibly towards the open door and the promise of privacy within.

With a shared glance filled with unspoken understanding, Aemond turned towards her chamber doors, crossing the threshold into the privacy of her chambers, where their hearts could speak freely without the constraints of the outside world.

She spoke quietly, her face illuminated warmly by the soft flicker of candlelight. "I hope you do not think less of me for this," she murmured, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "You can imagine, for me there is no great ceremony in it."

Aemond's heart swelled with tenderness at her words, his gaze filled with an understanding that transcended mere words. "I could never think less of you," he replied softly, his voice brimming with sincerity.

Aemond slowly closed the distance between them, their expressions never wavering, his steps deliberate yet gentle. He reached out, his hand cupping her face tenderly, as he gazed into her eyes with an intensity that spoke of his deep affection. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them suspended in a timeless embrace. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across their intertwined figures, bearing witness to the union of two souls bound together by love and longing.

Her lips parted to whisper, “I do not wish for you to do all of this out of guilt-”

She caught herself when his thumb traced her cheek, waiting for him to answer, “I do not make this bid out of remorse. I wish to be with you, and I wish to make you mine.”

Aside from the crackling heat of the fire within the hearth, her breath was all that was audible between them, coming heavier from between her lips as his thumb feathered down her cheek and to her bottom lip, caressing the skin there. After that, he felt her eyelashes against his cheek flutter when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers with a tenderness usually unbecoming of his personality.

Years of longing had each of them pressing closer to each other, lost in the sound of their soft kisses, and Aemond felt his clothing below his waist become tight with need once he caressed her tongue with his and pried her lips apart like the petal of a flower and tasting the sweet nectar within.

Her hands that had found his shoulders slid over the sleek leather to his front, tenderly and gingerly pulling the buckles apart to loosen his doublet. Her actions, instead of spurring embarrassment, renewed a deep-rooted vigour beneath, and Aemond’s new task was to pull at the laces of her dress behind her, and pull the fabric that had hidden her body from him.

He felt her shiver, pulling the heavy dress from her shoulder to pool at her waist, pushing them as fervently off her as he was able, “was he at least good to you,” Aemond asked in a whisper, his breath hot at her neck while she pulled at the laces of his breeches.

“I do not wish to speak of him,” she answered with determination and confidence, but a breathless, wanton whisper herself, wanting nothing more than to consummate years of harboured affections masked by friendship, “I only want you.”

Her words had his heart stutter in his chest, pulling her now almost bare form atop him as he sat back onto the bed, with her hair loosened like this and her shoulders blossoming with gooseflesh, he found that he was incapable of keeping his hands at his sides and explored the shape of her feminine body beneath the shift she wore.

Even the sheer motion of her brushing against his hardened member and her breasts filling his palms could have been enough for Aemond, but there was no returning at this point. She sighed against his lips as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shift to ruck the thin fabric up around her hips, squeezing the flesh of her thighs to pull her closer onto his lap.

Warmth bloomed at her cheeks, but it did not deter her as she reached between them and smiled at Aemond’s loud moan, stroking his rapidly hardening length in her palm, focussing her attention towards the velvety tip.

She lifted herself in his lap, fingers threaded at the hair at his nape as if to anchor herself to him, and both sighed with the utmost relief of their union once he pressed himself into her, and she sank her warmth onto him, enveloping him with her body. Her lips parted at the stretch, somewhat prepared and yet the intrusion still stealing the air from her lungs.

Foreheads pressed together, Aemond's hands gripped her at her waist, pushing his hips up into her as hard as he could to sink deeper inside her, “I have dreamt of this - for so long - being with you like this -”

A faint sheen glimmered on her collarbones as she slowly moved her hips on him, Aemond's legs parted somewhat, widening hers and opening her up more so he could rock up into her with her rhythm. The closeness of their position had the blunt head of his cock massage that sensitive patch within, her eyebrows knitted together in sweet pleasure.

“That's it -” he cooed quietly, almost watching the way she moved with admiration and curiosity, her tight, silky walls squeezing his length with every thrust of herself down. He felt her arousal coat the base of him, and the sound of their ever-quickening coupling filled the otherwise quiet chambers.

She held onto his shoulders, the amber glow of the fireplace picturing her expression in the most arousing way Aemond had ever imagined. Pulling her shift down her chest, he groaned lowly at the sight of her breasts and took one in his palm and mouthed at the other, taking her stiffened nipple between his lips in a way that made a shuddering moan slip past her lips.

“Gods - I would adore to watch you swell with my child - would you like that -”

All she could do was nod feebly, words unable to occupy her mouth where soft, sweet sounds of pleasure were pouring out. Aemond smirked, grazing his teeth over her bud.

“yes, you would like to serve your husband - give him children, wouldn't you - fuck-” his voice strained at the effort it took to hold himself back, his hands sliding down the column of her back to her plump backside, palms gripping tight and guiding her rhythm onto him, over and over.

She moaned loudly, the motion of being pulled back and forth and yet still impaling herself on him driving the fat head of his cock into the deepest and most forbidden parts of her.

“Aemond -”

“And once you have one - I'll fuck yet another one into you - keep you fat with child” his breathing grew ragged and shaky, “- take it - like a good little wife should-”

“Yes - yes-” she breathed quickly, the words slipping out without realising what they were for, her blind acceptance of being his wife, or the rising waves of pleasure coursing white, hot through her body.

He felt her squeezing him and hastened both of her rhythms, dragging her back into his lap and pushing up into her wet heat ceaselessly. Both the numbing ache of her peak and her bud rolling against his body in quick succession had her hands gripping around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her limbs flooded with warmth.

“That's it, ābrazyrys -”

“Gods, Aemond-” she squeaked, completely overcome and possessed by the heights of pleasure rolling through her, the endless rhythm of him fucking up into her only prolonging it.

Her tight walls squeezed him so deliciously that Aemond's heart leapt into his throat, completely surprised as he pulsed thickly and spilled within her, his lone eye tightly shut. His own fulfilment had his hips twitching, shallowly pushing his seed into her, and hoping that it took.

Even once he was completely spent and exhausted, softening inside her, neither moved, and he simply felt her tender fingertips at his shoulders in light soft circles, massaging him. And thought, that this is how it always should have been, had he fought for her.

Her breath fluttered against his skin, herself tired in exertion from their shared pleasure.

“I was a fool - for allowing you to slip from my grasp.”

She sat up, to look down at him, her face flushed, hair in messy waves, looking every bit as beautiful as the day he'd lost her.

But she smiled, her finger tracing the pattern impressed on the leather of his eye patch, “you may have been a fool,” she started.

Her finger hooked beneath it, and lifted it away, her expression unchanged as her thumb stroked the indent of the scar at his cheek. Aemond felt his heart soar in a way that almost felt terrifying.

“I never slipped from your grasp,” she uttered gently, “my heart was always yours.”

Aemond brushed her hair from her features, her words sending waves of ecstasy thrumming in his veins.

“Just as mine shall always be.”

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