#there's going to be a lot of Aegon in the next chapter and he has me in stitches

[viiisenyas]

Prologue: Made of Fire and Water

Series Summary: As the firstborn child to Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra, most believed that Elaena would succeed King Viserys’ chosen heir. But after her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named in her stead, the rumours amidst the royal court began to grow regarding her mother’s integrity. Years later, the whispers would not leave, and Elaena would find herself placed in a strategic match with Prince Aegon to placate her mother’s enemies. Little did she know, she had already become a pawn for the political game, and she would become the hidden advantage for the Greens.

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Elaena Velaryon (OC) Series Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI !!) Series Warnings: arranged marriage, canon divergence, smut, suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse, canon-typical incest, death, obsessive behaviour, dubious consent, graphic violence, sexual harassment, enemies to lovers Credits: Divider from here. A/N: This series begins at Episode 6. For narrative purposes, I've aged up some of the characters. This work is also Team Green positive. If you don't like it, keep scrolling.

[Index] | [AO3]

Elaena

The summer breeze swept past Elaena, and the warm sunlight kissed her copper skin. Her father’s dragon released a long roar while he carried both of them through the clouds, and she clung to Laenor.

Seasmoke began his descent towards Blackwater Bay after Laenor gently patted his scales, and the familiar sight of the Red Keep became larger as they neared King’s Landing.

The dragon levelled out just above the water, and her father gripped the handles of the saddle. 

Elaena let her gaze settle on the ships leaving the harbour, sailing to gods know where. The sight was still just as breathtaking as it was when she was but a young girl, still hoping that her own egg would hatch. But it never did.

He leaned forward, and the young princess grinned while Seasmoke began to ascend above the city as they flew over the docks. 

She always admired the great structure of the Dragonpit from this altitude. However, their flight would be over soon. It was time to return to her responsibilities, and to tend to her mother. Rhaenyra was due to give birth any day now, and her smile widened as her mind wandered to the prospect of finally having a younger sister. 

She wondered whether her supposed sister would have silvery hair and violet eyes like her own. Though she was nearly seventeen years of age, she couldn’t contain her excitement of introducing her sister to dolls when the time came. There were still many that she kept over the years that rested on display upon a shelf - some had been gifts that her paternal grandfather, Lord Corlys, had bestowed to her before leaving Driftmark when she was only eight. Others had been from King Viserys himself. 

The deafening flap of Seasmoke’s wings had pulled her from her thoughts as he circled the Dragonpit before he landed just outside the tunnel where the handlers were waiting. 

“Dohaerās, Seasmoke!” One of them commanded.

He growled, and Elaena gently patted his grey scales. 

“Umbās,” Laenor said firmly. “Rybās.”

Seasmoke snarled lightly as the young princess chuckled, and her father unlinked the chain around their waists.

“You did well, darling,” he chuckled softly. “Soon enough you’ll be riding alone on your own dragon.”

“But there aren’t any unclaimed dragons here, Father,” she frowned as Laenor helped her out of the saddle. 

“There’s plenty at Dragonstone, love,” Laenor smiled and gently poked her nose, making her chuckle. “We can venture there after your new sibling arrives.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, love.”

She glanced to her left to see the carriage waiting for them, and her gentle smile dissolved when she met Aegon’s violet gaze.

“My sweet niece,” he called with a wide grin as Sunfyre was being guided out of the Dragonpit.

Elaena resisted the urge to scowl as she dismounted her father’s dragon. 

She despised her uncle, and rather than physically tormenting her as he once had when they were children, he made a point of attempting to provoke her at every turn with his ridiculous innuendos. How he was nearly a man grown, yet still acted like a child at times was beyond her.

“Prince Aegon,” she reluctantly greeted, and Laenor offered the same courtesy. 

Her father pressed his lips together and avoided his good brother’s gaze as he encouraged her to pet Seasmoke, gently moving her hand across the beast’s neck. The dragon snarled softly in contentment when her palm moved against his scales. 

“Why don’t you return to the Red Keep while I fetch an egg for your new sibling,” Laenor suggested. “I’m sure your mother will want your company.”

“All right,” she nodded, and Laenor gently kissed her forehead before she turned to walk towards the carriage.

“Welcome back, Princess,” Ser Steffon greeted. He was sitting astride his white stallion and offered her a gentle smile.

“You look relieved, Ser Steffon,” she laughed.

He chuckled with her. “I am relieved,” he pointed out. “Your unspoiled return just saved my head from a spike.”

She turned to face him, now walking backwards. “If I met my death with my father astride Seasmoke, then I died the death of a dragon rider,” she outstretched her hands dramatically before she mockingly bowed. “It’d be an honour.”

“Aye,” he shook his head as Laenor chuckled. “The Lord Commander warned me you’d be just like your mother in her youth - and your aunt at that.”

Elaena couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, and she turned back with a wide grin. She didn’t notice that Aegon had moved closer, and she nearly collided with him as she released a sharp gasp.

“Fuck,” she huffed, stepping back.

“There are other ways to tame a dragon, sweet niece,” Aegon bent at the waist to whisper in her ear. “If you still yearn for one. Come to my chambers tonight, and I might show you how.”

Her stomach turned. She gave him a contemptuous look as she moved past him towards the carriage, and Aegon chuckled.

“May the gods shrivel his cock,” she muttered under her breath.

The sound of his voice was irritating, and his presence was almost unbearable as she resisted the urge to shiver with disgust.

“Good morrow, Elaena,” Helaena greeted from the carriage with a gentle smile, and her expression softened.

Elaena smiled widely as she approached her aunt while she took off her glove with her teeth. 

“Your mother has given birth,” the Targaryen princess said.

“Already?” She asked, voice muffled. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” Helaena nodded.

Elaena sighed with disappointment and looked down as she removed her other glove.

“What… auspicious news,” she forced a smile and peered back at Seasmoke as the dragon slithered back into the depths of the Dragonpit alongside her father. 

The sunlight reflected from the dragon’s grey scales in an iridescent haze, and Elaena turned back after she caught Aegon leering at her again, sitting astride Sunfyre.

She released a disgusted sigh, rolling her eyes before Helaena outstretched her hand towards her to invite her within the confines of the carriage.

“I do hope your flight with Ser Laenor was a pleasant one,” she tilted her head. 

“It was,” Elaena smiled softly as she grasped her hand and climbed the steps into the wheelhouse. “I must admit, I’m surprised that you’re not riding today. It’s been a while since Dreamfyre was let out.”

“She just laid a clutch of eggs,” Helaena beamed as the two settled together. “I heard that Lord Stark is coming to court from Winterfell. And his eldest sons.”

“Odd,” Elaena furrowed her brows. “The Starks haven’t been to the capital since my first name day.”

“They’re coming for Aegon’s tourney,” she elaborated, and gently squeezed her hand after her niece scoffed. “And perhaps a betrothal.” 

Elaena deadpanned as she resisted the unpleasant shiver that threatened. 

She had grown up on stories of the suspicious and superstitious ways of the Northerners - the stories of the Kings of Winter. A brutal lot, they were, and she dare not assume that the passing centuries had softened their hearts or their grim ways after her forebears had united the realm. Even if it weren’t true, she didn’t want to live out the rest of her days in the grey waste of their homeland.

“Gods, I hope not,” she muttered, and a giggle bubbled from Helaena.

The carriage ride back to Maegor’s Holdfast was tedious and Elaena gazed through the wicker covering while Helaena had fallen asleep. 

She watched as she passed through the capital, and placed her hand over her mouth and nose, unaccustomed to the stench as they passed through Flea Bottom. 

Elaena began to wonder what life would have been like had she been born a commoner rather than a princess. To be a simple peasant, someone who did not need to constantly question why her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named her mother’s heir, and not her. 

She was the eldest of the Velaryon siblings, after all, and the unsettling thought plagued her mind for years. Was it really because she was a woman? Or was it simply to honour Westerosi tradition? But she was painfully aware that her grandsire had already broken that tradition with her mother. 

Her father once told her that it was because Rhaenyra didn’t want to burden Elaena with the responsibility of ruling when the time came. But she knew in her heart it was something… deeper. 

She possessed the typical traits of House Velaryon: silver-white curls, copper skin and violet eyes. Her younger brothers, however, did not inherit the same traits. But of course, that was yet another matter that was meant to be left unspoken. 

When the two finally arrived at the Red Keep, Elaena walked with her aunt through the castle in comfortable silence until they parted ways to tend to their own devices. 

She made haste to her bedchamber to change out of her riding attire. Having settled on a fine cerulean gown, she sighed softly when she gazed into the looking glass while her handmaiden, Rinna, quietly fussed over the mess of her wind-tousled curls. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to style it in the tradition of your house, Princess?” the woman asked. “It would be more manageable.”

“I like my hair just the way it is, thank you,” Elaena rolled her eyes playfully while she anxiously smoothed out the lingering wrinkles of the skirt of her gown with her hands.

“A braid then?” Rinna raised a brow, “Perhaps over your shoulder?”

“Sure.”

“You must be eager to meet your new brother, no?” she smiled. 

“Positively,” Elaena said flatly and examined her fingernails. “I was just hoping that I’d have a sister.”

“Perhaps some day, my princess.”

It didn’t take long for the woman to finish the fishtail, and she tied a leather strap on the ends of her hair to hold it in place.

“There,” Rinna said and pushed the braid over her shoulder before Elaena could reach upwards to do it herself. 

“Thank you,” she smiled sheepishly. 

“Now go. If you delay any longer, your mother will send the guards to come find you,” the handmaiden gave her a pointed look as she stood.

“Do I look like I’ve been out riding?” Elaena asked as she moved towards her door.

“No, but you do smell like you’ve been out.”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered as she glanced around.

There was no time to mask the distinct scent with rosemary oil, and Elaena huffed before she made haste out of her room. She walked quickly throughout the Red Keep, mindlessly greeting every other lord that gently bowed their heads until she rounded the corner towards the next stairwell.

Quiet curses escaped her when she lifted her skirts to skip the steps. She could never understand why King Maegor had left his descendants with a ridiculously enormous castle - that in itself was inherently cruel - but she sighed with relief when she finally approached her mother’s doors and knocked quietly on them.

“Come,” Rhaenyra’s voice resonated, her tone welcoming.

Elaena opened the door and slowly poked her head inside with a sheepish smile. 

“Hello, Mother… Apologies for my tardiness, I was—”

Oh. 

She wasn’t expecting Ser Harwin to be standing beside her mother, and he offered a kind smile as he handed the newborn babe to Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra smiled. “Come in, sit with me a while.”

“I, uh… Of course,” she nodded, letting the door close behind her. 

“Princess,” Harwin greeted with a nod.

“Ser Harwin,” she raised her eyes out of courtesy as she sat on the plush sofa beside her mother. Then her eyes drifted back down towards her brother.

Elaena resisted the urge to frown, and she tilted her head. The boy looked like her other brothers. 

“Where is your father?” Rhaenyra furrowed her brows.

“He’s at the Dragonpit. He said he wanted to choose an egg for the babe.” she shrugged.

“You stink of dragon,” her mother pointed out, disapprovingly. “You went riding with him, didn’t you?”

“I– yes,” Elaena looked away with guilt for a moment before she raised her index finger. “But, I’ve already finished my lessons for the day, and Father wanted to take me riding for practise.”

“You’ll claim a dragon sooner than you think,” Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “But I do hope you’ve learned something today, Elaena. The Septa has informed me that you still struggle with paying attention.” 

She scoffed and pressed her lips together. “If she didn’t speak so slowly, perhaps I’d be more inclined,” she rolled her eyes. “I learn far more from Grandfather than I do from her.”

Ser Harwin smiled, and a quiet laugh escaped him.

“It is still important to focus - even if you find yourself on the edge of tedium.” Rhaenyra gave her a pointed look, and Elaena sighed softly, nodding.

“I’ll try.”

“Well, Elaena, I want you to meet your new brother, Joffrey.”

Joffrey? she thought as she pressed her lips together. That isn’t a Valyrian name.

“Do you want to hold him?” her mother tilted her head. 

Elaena met her gaze and nodded before reaching to gently pull the babe from her grasp as she stood. Elaena cradled the boy in her arms just as she was taught to with Lucerys. 

The babe’s eyes roamed around the grandeur room before he sneezed and the little sound made her giggle. 

“He is very charming, Mother.” 

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is the smallest one out of all of you. And incidentally… you were the largest - and my worst labour.”

Elaena hummed and shifted slowly, keeping her violet eyes on him before she looked at the downy brown hair that thinly covered his head. 

Her brows furrowed, and she discreetly looked up at Ser Harwin who had been watching her sway Joffrey. There were quite a few similarities between them. Between all of them, she finally realised.

It began to make sense why he always seemed to be in their company, and Elaena drew in a breath as she processed the knowledge.

And here I thought he was just being kind.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ser Harwin said, and Elaena cast a sidelong glance in his direction that he didn’t seem to notice.

Her mother emitted a soft hum in response before the knight walked out of the room. Elaena watched him intently before the door closed again, and she cleared her throat. 

“Do you need anything, Mother? Water, perhaps?” She asked as she looked at Rhaenyra. 

The woman shook her head. “No, I’m quite content right now, my darling. Thank you.” 

Elaena slowly sat back down beside her, being careful not to wake the now sleeping infant, continuing to sway him. 

“When I was your age, I couldn’t bear the thought of having children. But everything changed after you were born.” Rhaenyra offered a soft smile, and Elaena returned it. 

The simple acknowledgement quelled most of her doubts, but some still lingered as she looked at Joffrey again. 

“Mother, what are your plans for my future?”

“What do you mean, darling?” Rhaenyra tilted her head as she shifted on the sofa. 

“I mean…” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I’m almost seventeen. The queen said I should be betrothed by now, and Helaena informed me that the Starks might be coming to the capital for one. I-I don’t want to leave home only to be locked away at Winterfell.” 

Rhaenyra exhaled slowly, and she paused in thought as she reached to tuck a loose curl behind Elaena’s ear. 

“My sweet girl,” she leaned closer to her daughter and cupped her cheek. “You descend from the greatest dynasty that has ever been established. You have the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and you are the granddaughter of the greatest voyager. I’m sure that your future husband wouldn’t dare.”

Elaena drew in a breath and leaned against the backrest of the sofa. 

“But, the Starks are our allies,” she said. “And from what I understand, Cregan Stark will be the Warden of the North when the time comes. Regardless of who you wed, you must do your duty to the realm. But for now, you needn’t worry about such things until your red flower blooms.”

Duty. The word settled bitterly in her mind. Lying on her back to later squeeze out an heir for some lord in exchange for a stale oath didn’t seem to be that favourable of a prospect.

The young princess nodded as she masked her disappointment with a polite smile before she gently handed her brother back to her mother.

Gods willing, I’ll just turn up barren, she thought with contempt.

[bronzefuryfic]

goodbye sweet baby Aemond... hello angry, vengeful teenage Aemond!!!

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter VI - One Flesh, One Heart, One Soul

Summary: After marrying in the Faith of the Seven, you and Aemond are ready to consummate your marriage. But something has been troubling him about it and you are determined to get to the bottom of this before finally giving in to your desires.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 10k (on the dot!)

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); p in v sex; hand job; fingering; switch!Aemond (leaning more towards sub!Aemond); jealousy; referenced past SA (Aemond talks about the time Aegon took him to the Street of Silk) and it's consequences to oneself (please please read carefully)

Notes: Hello everyone! You thought this story was over, didn’t you? Well, it is not. I just took a really long time writing this chapter. Because of this, the first thing I’d like to do is apologize. I’m sorry for taking so long, I got caught up in some college work and this huge event I help organize, and it took me quite a while to finish that (and not only that, as you can see by the word count, this chapter is one chonky boi, for the more I wrote the more I wanted to write and I just couldn’t stop.) Anyway, here it is and I’m sorry once again.

TW: Please please read the warnings, this one does talk about SA and it’s repercussions and consequences to oneself, (it doesn’t happen during the story, it’s only mentions of past events). If this is something you are uncomfortable with feel free to skip this one, put yourself and your own comfort first, only read it if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Stay safe!

This story will have more parts to it, but like I said, I’ve been having a lot of work to do (a shame I can’t just write all day, but meh, c'est la vie) so I won’t be able to update weekly like with the previous chapters and updates will take a little while longer.

Also, I used an online translator (I don’t know if it’s grammatically correct, I’ll just roll with it, if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.

I am really proud of how this one turned out, really, I’d even dare say (throwing modesty out the window entirely) it’s one of my favorite works of mine so far. So I really hope you enjoy this one as much as I did! Thank you so so much for reading!

Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Your feet were killing you. There was no other way to describe it. You yearned to finally retire to your marital chambers and take off these dreaded shoes, but alas you had to entertain the guests for a little while longer at least.

“What troubles you, ābrazȳrys?” your husband asked from beside you.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, valzȳrys.” you smiled softly at him, your heart clenching at his concern.

Husband.

After four whole moons you could finally call Aemond your husband. Twice over in fact. Not only were you married in the Faith of the Seven, as per his mother’s and grandsire’s wishes, but Daemon and your mother had organized a ceremony for you to be wed in the ways of Old Valyria (after which your step-father had jested, asking if you were to consummate the marriage already or wait until after the second ceremony at the sept, earning a slap on the shoulder from Rhaenyra and a chuckle from Laenor. Aemond had in turn blushed profusely, and you thought the pink hue that dusted his cheeks suited him, wanting to see it more often).

Laenor had stayed with you in your chambers, running his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep. He had woken you by dawn, reluctantly saying he had to go, for Daemon had arranged a ship to take him back, but he needed to leave as early as possible as to not risk being seen by anyone. You said your goodbyes with tears rolling down your cheeks, for you felt this was the last time you’d ever see him again, though he did tell you to pay him a visit in Qarth should you ever find your way to Essos before disappearing through the secret tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast.

You barely managed to fall back asleep after that, too eager to start the day already. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent insisted on helping you get ready, you and your mother sharing complicit smiles every time your good mother referred to her son as your ‘soon to be’ husband. The ceremony itself went by without a hitch, with Aemond placing his cloak, in a mixture of both green and black colors, over your shoulders and kissing you tenderly afterwards.

The feast was grand, with almost every major house having been invited. You had saved your first dance for Aemond, but quickly switched partners and danced with Helaena, then with Baela, Jace, Luke and even with Aegon, though the last one was short lived for Aemond, not at all enjoying the sight of his brother’s grubby hands all over you, not so gently pushed him aside and resumed as your partner once more. You felt happy, happier than you had been in several years. Your family, or most of it, was reunited again, celebrating love and not fighting a senseless war like you feared they would.

And now, even though you were having a splendid time, you were counting the minutes until you could finally retire and spend some time alone with your husband. 

“I cannot believe you are going to forego the bedding.” Aegon groaned from next to you “It is tradition.” to which you had to hold Aemond back from reaching across from you and strangling his brother as the latter cackled.

In the moons that followed your betrothal you had noticed that, whenever someone who wasn’t you made any reference to anything involving your marital bed or your marital duties, Aemond would tense up. Anyone else would think the way his shoulders straightened was a demonstration of pride, a man who couldn’t wait to bed his future wife, but you had come to know him better than that. While you had no doubt he was eager to lay with you, you knew his stiffness stemmed from somewhere else, somewhere he had yet to disclose. Where most saw him preening with pride you noticed him shrinking back in on himself.

So you requested, more, begged your mother to forbid the bedding ceremony, much to Aegon’s dismay, claiming you weren’t comfortable with the situation and you were the one who wanted privacy. It wasn’t technically a lie, for you truly wanted to share this moment with your husband only, but you wanted to get to the bottom of the issue first. She was quick to agree, and anyone who complained that it entailed breaking tradition got a scorn filled glare from her and a reminder that, as Queen, her word was final. The only condition, set by some of the men in the Small Council, was that you deliver the linens to one of the maesters in the morrow as proof of your virtue.

Aemond must have noticed you slumping in your chair, tiredness seeping into your bones from hours upon hours of celebration, for he stood from his seat and extended a hand to you.

“Shall we retire for the evening, my love?”

My love. 

The moniker set your cheeks aflame as you smiled softly at him, glancing briefly at your mother, seeking her permission to be excused. She nodded softly, mentioning something about retiring as well to check on Visenya. You accepted his hand and both of you left the great hall amidst praises and cheers from the guests. 

As you approached his, now yours as well, chambers you could see him getting progressively more fidgety. If it was due to nerves or anticipation you could not tell. He opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside and take in the room, the things you had requested the servants to move from your previous quarters already in place.  

“I have something for you.” he spoke hurriedly, almost as soon as the door was closed “A wedding gift, if you will.”

“What is it?” you watched him cross the space towards a chest nestled against the wall, rummaging inside. When he turned back to you in his hands laid a sheathed sword, a large sapphire resting on the top of the handle, almost where it met the blade, catching your eye.

“I had a little help from my uncle to get the measurements correct for you.” he extended the sword to you which you took from him almost reverently, running your fingers delicately over the intricate golden designs of the sheath.

Your eyes were filled with wonder as you pulled the blade out of the sheath, noticing how smooth and shiny the metal was. There was something different about the steel, it was more vibrant than what you were used to seeing, softer, yet somehow almost… sharper.

Aemond must have seen your questioning gaze aimed at the sword for he smiled, an almost proud smirk adorning his features as he explained.

“Valyrian steel.” you whipped your head to stare at him, astonished “Jewelry from all over the realm made of valyrian steel was melted and added to the steel alloy.”

This was a lot. It was such a thoughtful gift, made just for you by your husband that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

“I know it is not the same as an actual valyrian steel sword, like Dark Sister, but those are even harder to come by.” he started rambling, taking your silence as a sign you didn’t enjoy the gift “And it is not made with the same technique, as it was lost after the Doom-”

“It is perfect.” you cut him off, gazing at him with eyes full of emotion “It is absolutely perfect, valzȳrys, thank you. How did you manage to find the jewelry?”

“I have my ways.” he shrugged, as if unbothered.

He hummed in contentment, his face softening as he took a step closer to you.

“I also had a belt made just for you.” he stepped even closer, his gaze turning slightly darker, as if he was a predator stalking its prey “So you can wear your sword around court. All day, every day.” his finger stroked the sapphire on the handle as his lips grazed your ear “I want all to know how fierce of a woman my lady wife is.”

He closed the gap between your mouths, claiming your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. It was over all too soon as he pulled away from you, but thankfully he didn’t go far. He took the sword from your hands, resheathing it and placing the gift on a nearby table, before kissing you again.

His arms circled around your waist and clung to your back as he kissed you hungrily, like if he didn’t get a taste of your lips he would die of starvation. His kisses left you burning from the inside, wishing, craving more.

Yet, as you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself you noticed how tense he was. You couldn’t help but take in the way his hands trembled as he started unlacing the back of your gown. 

“Aemond.” you tried pulling away, to look at him properly, but he chased after you, not wanting to be parted from your lips. He only stopped when you gently grabbed his cheeks and had to physically pry himself from you “Husband, I think we ought to talk.”

He recoiled and was out of your arms and across the room in an instant, moving so fast you barely had any time to react.

“Do you not wish to consummate our marriage?” he looked so heartbreakingly hurt for only a moment but then he steeled himself and you could sense the mask of indifference he often wore around court starting to slip back on.

“No, my love, of course not.” you rushed to his side, once again cupping his jaw urging him to look at you “I am just worried for you, is all.”

“Why should you be worried about me, ābrazȳrys?” he spoke, his tone clipped and cold, more so than it had been in a really long time. If he noticed how much his question offended you he didn’t let it show.

“Why should I not worry about you, husband?” you emphasized the last word, taking a long deep breath to steady yourself and let go of your exasperation “I just wish to know why the thought of consummating our marriage worries you so.”

It was Aemond’s turn to stare at you in confusion.

“I believe I have made it quite clear the depths of my desire for you.”

“I know, I know. And I desire you greatly as well, never doubt that even for a moment.” you sighed, worried he’d shut you out or push you away if you prodded any further, but decided to push forward regardless “It is just that, in the past few moons, whenever anyone else mentioned or even hinted at our marital duties to one another you became tense, withdrawn even.”

He looked taken aback at your words, as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing such a thing in the first place.

“I just wish to understand what ails you, my love.”

My love.

Those two words once again seemed to be what chirped at his resolve. He averted his eye, almost in shame, and turned his back to you. For a moment you feared he was going to walk out the door and leave your shared chambers altogether but he did no such thing. Instead he walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. You wondered if you should approach him or give him space, worried he’d flinch from your touch like a frightened animal, but even if he didn’t meet your gaze his body was turned towards you, open and inviting. So you took slow and deliberate steps towards him, taking your place besides him.

He stayed silent for a moment, clenching his fists as they rested on his thighs. You took one of his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a gentle squeeze in hopes of calming his nerves. You raised your free hand towards the side of his face but stopped before you could touch him.

“May I?” you asked, and you didn’t need to say the words for him to know what you meant. Only after he nodded almost imperceptibly did you remove his eyepatch, revealing the alluring sapphire that matched the one placed on the gift he had given you. 

“Aemond.” he glanced at you, something akin to guilt clear upon his features “Remember what we told each other earlier? I am yours and you are mine. Whatever it is, your burdens are now mine to carry as well.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, caressing the edge of his scarred flesh. 

“Let me help you relieve some of that burden, please.” you practically whispered, almost begging.

For a moment he said nothing. Then he turned his head slightly, placing a kiss upon your palm.

“I have something I need to tell you.” he spoke, fear clinging to his voice.

“What is it?”

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, wondering what could possibly be afflicting him so badly as to react like this, but nothing came to mind. So you settled on waiting for him to speak, not wanting to rush to conclusions.

“I have laid with a woman before.”

That… is not what you were expecting.

“When?” you did not know what else to say, so you settled for asking that.

“Years ago.” he shook his head, as if trying to forget “You were in Dragonstone at the time.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. You didn’t wish to dismiss his feelings, but you couldn’t seem to understand what the big deal was.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he pulled back, almost offended 

“Yeah.” you shrugged “I fail to see what the problem is.”

“How could you say that?” he stood up, pacing back and forth in front of you in frustration.

“We were not yet involved with one another, so you were not technically bound to anyone.”

“You waited around for me-”

“I did not remain a maiden specifically for you.” you reminded him “If I were a man I, too, would probably have indulged in the pleasures of the flesh.”

“Still. I should not have sullied myself like that, it was unbecoming of someone of my position and a disrespect to you, to my future wife.”

You wanted to argue further, to make him see reason, but the disproportionate reaction to something that, to you, seemed so trivial clued you in that his troubles ran deeper than you first thought. So you stopped talking, choosing to just annalyse his mannerisms. His movements were erratic, his fingers clawing at its nail beds almost to the point of breaking the skin, a habit inherited from his mother which he almost never indulged in.

He halted when he felt your hand wrapping around his arm, the leather of the doublet cold against your skin.

“You do not have to explain yourself to me. But I feel like there is something you are not telling me.” you grabbed both of his hands in your own, kissing his knuckles tenderly “I completely understand if you do not wish to share it. We can just forget this conversation ever happened and I shall not press any further, but, husband, please, I only wish to help ease your troubles.”

Aemond paused, exhaling shakily, before averting his eyes once more. Shame and guilt emanated from him in waves as he sat back down on top of the linens. You waited for his next move, smiling softly when his arms circled around your waist and brought you closer to him, standing between his parted legs.

“On my thirteenth name day,” he shuddered softly when he felt your fingers running through his scalp, his cheek resting in your stomach as he spoke “Aegon took me to the Street of Silk, as his gift to me. I did not know where we were going, ‘a surprise’ he said.”

It was your turn to shudder, your stomach churning as you felt where his tale was headed.

“He said… he said it was time for me to become a man. To become as well versed as he was, ‘a scholar in the ways of life’. I did not understand what he meant at first, but it was clear to me soon enough.”

He turned his head, hiding his face in your stomach as his hold on you tightened. The scene reminded you so much of the last time you saw him before your years-long distance, on that fateful night on Driftmark. Looking at him now you realized that, deep down, he was still that scared little boy, hiding behind the image of the fierce, impassive warrior he had created for himself over the years. 

“Aemond, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whispered “I get it. You do not need to continue if you wish to stop.”

He shook his head in response, desperate to get it all out now that he had already started. You supposed this was the first time he was speaking these words out loud, never having dared to utter it to a single soul before. So you tried to soothe him as best as you could, pulling the band that held his hair up in its usual half updo and letting it down, giving you more room to run your fingers through his locks, untangling the silver strands. This seemed to give him enough strength to continue, shifting his head so only his forehead was in contact with you and his words were directed to the ground below him, as if he couldn’t dare to look up at you. 

“He arranged for a… a w-whore” he spit the word out like it was poison on his tongue “to take care of me in exchange for a bag of gold, and when the woman tried to give him back the excess amount, claiming it was too much, he told her to keep it. ‘For your trouble’ he told her.”

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest at his words. You were never too fond of Aegon, especially for the way he treated both Aemond and Helaena, but this… this was vile even for him.

“He wanted to watch.” he propped his chin on your stomach, peering up at you with a round, frightened eye that was steadily brimming with tears “I did not want him to watch. The madam tried to send him away, but he insisted, saying that he was the prince and he commanded it. Thankfully he got distracted by some other woman there and left.”

“A-and how did-” you swallowed thickly, trying to stay strong for him even though your own heart shattered for the boy he once was, the boy who shaped the man he was now “how did that make you feel?” 

He shook his head once more, his gaze becoming distant, as if he was now looking through you rather than at you.

“I do not remember much.” he whispered “I just remember the stench. The whole place stunk. It reeked of sweat and wine and something… something so sickeningly sweet it was foul. Once I left I could still feel the smell clinging to me.”

One lone tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, and then another. You cupped his cheek, your thumb catching the tears that refused to stop as he hiccuped.

“I tried washing it off. Scrubbed at my skin until it was raw and tender, but it would not go away.” his voice started to get tight “After a few days and several baths later it was still there, still lingering. I tried asking mother and even Helaena if they could feel it in me but they lied. They lied and said I smelled fine but I could feel it.” he choked back on a sob “I could feel it in me still, like it had seeped into my very bones. Sometimes when I think too hard about that night I can still feel it in my skin, like it never even left.”

His arms brought you even closer to him, almost to the point of pain, as if he was trying to completely merge his very being into you.

“I know I shouldn’t have.” his gaze focused on you once more, eye pleading for you, his tone bordering on desperation “Forgive me, please, mandianna! I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place, I shouldn’t have-”

“Qȳbor, stop.” you whispered softly, not wanting to aggravate him when he was this vulnerable “You have nothing to apologize for. You were only a child.”

“Still, I should have known better than-” he started shaking his head again, the look in his eye almost crazed, like he wanted so desperately for you to see him the way he saw himself.

“Aemond.” you spoke firmly, gripping his chin to force him to look at you “You were a child.”

A moment of silence passed, only his heavy breathing to be heard. Then something dawned on him, for he pressed his face against your stomach once more and started sobbing uncontrollably. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his wails, your arms coming around his frame to hold him against you, one hand gripping the back of his head and the other stroking his back. He cried and cried and cried. It seemed like he finally understood, after all these years, what truly happened that night. He realized his own brother sold his innocence, something that was his to freely give to whomever he chose, for some coin. His brother and, by extension, the madam forcefully took from him something that was inherently his, that should have remained his, something he would never get back and would never not miss. It was his, it should have been him to choose what to do with it, and they took it from him.

His loathing shifted then. What was once aimed at himself, the hatred he felt for the stench that never truly went away, shifted in turn to Aegon. He slowly, very slowly, started to forgive that thirteen year old boy, the one that never left either, for the things that happened to him that night. He now realized you could not forgive him for what he had done, for the one whose forgiveness he really needed was himself. It would take him a long time, he knew, to accept his own absolution, and perhaps he never would, not fully anyway, but he could certainly try.

Once he calmed down enough, his sobs turning to mere sniffles, he raised his head to glance at you once more. You were smiling softly at him, eyes so filled with love and compassion he felt almost undeserving of it. Your fingers in his hair helped to ground him, to bring him back to this moment in your arms. Realizing what had just transpired he tried to turn his head away in embarrassment but you wouldn’t let him.

“I am glad I have earned your trust enough for you to share this with me.” you spoke with reverence, earning a shy smile in return.

He then dried the remaining tears from his face and tried to stand up, but you were quicker, pressing onto his shoulders so he would remain seated.

“We do not have to do anything tonight.” you brushed a strand of hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear “I can just prick a finger and smear some blood on the linens.”

“But I want to.” he almost whined, not wishing for you to part from him “I want to do this with you. With you I do not feel that stench, I-” he took a steadying breath before whispering “I just feel you.” 

In that very moment you felt like your heart would burst from how much love you held for this man. 

“Okay.”

He smiled brightly then, nuzzling his nose against you.

“But…” you pulled back from him, commanding his full attention “we will do only what you wish, nothing more. Whatever you want, tell me and it is yours. And if you wish to stop, at any moment, you tell me, alright?”

“Alright.” he nodded, quite enthusiastic.

“You have to promise me you will tell me if you want to stop.” you reiterated “Promise me.”

He stared up at you with so much adoration you felt like the Mother brought to land.

“I promise.”

You smiled, satisfied that he would follow through should he need to.

“Well, how do you want to start then?”

His gaze turned to one of confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we cannot just jump right into it.” you jested.

“We can’t?” he looked so preoccupied at that, and your heart broke all over again. By the Gods, what had they done to this boy in that brothel?

You crouched down so your face was level with his, your noses almost touching as you whispered into his lips.

“Tell me what you want, valzȳrys.”

Aemond was at a loss for words, a world of endless possibilities presented itself to him and he didn’t know where to begin. But he supposed there was one thing he knew could be a good place to start.

“Can you kiss me?” he pleaded.

You sat down next to him on the bed, your body turned towards him, your knees bumping against his. 

“You want me to kiss you?” you spoke softly, deciding to tease him for a bit by pulling one of his hands to your lips and kissing his knuckles “Is this where you want me to kiss you?”

“No,” he shook his head “not there.”

You hummed as if confused and let your lips graze his cheek.

“What about here?”

“No.”

Your lips traveled lower, placing a gentle kiss against his jaw.

“Here?” to which he shook his head.

Going lower, your lips traced the column of his throat, earning a soft gasp from him.

“N-not there either.” he whimpered as your teeth nipped against his skin gently.

“Then where do you want me to kiss you?” you pulled back, staring at his eye “I need you to tell me.”

His cheeks lit up bright pink, embarrassment coursing through him at the thought of speaking his thoughts out loud. But he had come to learn that if there was one person in his life that he could trust, that person was you.

“On the lips.” 

You relented then, chasing his lips with your own. They were soft, only a trace of salt left behind by his tears previously shed. You kissed him gently, hands cupping his jaw as his own settled on your waist. It was tender, almost chaste, and you tried pouring all the love you felt for him into the kiss.

“I like it when you kiss me.” he whispered when you pulled back “No one else has ever done that for me.”

It was your turn to look confused, staring at him wide eyed.

“You have never been kissed before?” you questioned “By anyone other than me?”

He shook his head. That explained why he seemed so inexperienced the first few times around, because he truly was inexperienced.

“Not even…?” you didn’t want to say it, but he understood what you meant.

“No.” he denied again “It felt too intimate.”

More intimate than sex? you thought.

“After that night in the tub, before Driftmark,” you recalled that night, the night you shared your very first kiss. It was a peck more than anything, a childish attempt mostly, but it had meant the world to you “whenever I thought about doing it with someone else it did not feel right. Yours were the only lips I ever wanted to taste.”

You couldn’t help yourself, surging forward to capture his lips with your own in a heated kiss. The quiet whimper that escaped his mouth only spurred you on, seeking his touch. Your tongue eagerly tangled with his, tasting the sweet Dornish Red he had been sipping on before and something that was so inherently him. 

He pulled back then, breathing heavily against your lips, a sheen line of saliva connecting both your mouths before dissipating.

“What about you?” he questioned, still trying to regain his breath.

“What about me?”

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, averting his gaze shyly “Before me, I mean? You are quite good at it, I believe.”

“Well, I have had some practice.” it was your turn to feel embarrassed, quickly glancing away from him “For a while Jace and I believed mother would eventually marry us to one another after we left for Dragonstone. We decided to get used to each other before the inevitable happened.”

Something twisted painfully in Aemond’s chest at the thought of you, a younger you, locking lips with his damned nephew. It was almost primal, this rage he felt. You were his and his alone. You have always been his from the very moment you had come into this world, and you’d continue to be his until the Stranger came to collect your soul.  

“It was gross, really. Happened only a handful of times before we gave up trying to pretend we were not disgusted by the idea.”

Your words did little to quell his unsettling feelings. Was this what jealousy felt like? Not envy, actual jealousy? Envy was something he was familiar with, for he had felt it pretty much all his life. He envied Aegon the most, but he also envied Rhaenyra a lot as well, your brothers and hells, even Helaena sometimes even though he loathed it. This was different. 

“And I may or may not have gotten a bit too tipsy while staying on Winterfell during my travels and shared a kiss or two with the Warden of the North.”

“Cregan Stark?” he scoffed. While the thought of you swapping spit with a boresome and self-righteous northerner was a little less rage inducing in comparison to Jacaerys, that simmering jealousy was still present.

That all dissipated though at the feeling of your fingers gently brushing his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

“But none of them hold a candle to you.” his heart skipped a beat at your words, your hand reaching to do the same to the other side of his hair “Especially when you blush so prettily.” 

Heat spread all over his face, as he stammered.

“I-I do no such thing!” he tried sounding offended, but all he did was make you giggle, as he proved your words right.

“Yes, you do.” you hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to keep his gaze on you “You turn all red at a mere brush of my fingers, at the slightest of compliments. Like a maiden.” 

He felt the warmth spreading to the tip of his ears, the back of his neck and even down his chest.

“How red do you think you would blush if I touched you some more, hm?” 

Your fingers gently traced down his throat, feeling when he gulped harshly. 

“Would you like that, husband?” you trailed down his soft skin, reaching the spot where his collarbone met the leather coat he still wore “For me to touch you?”

He nodded, somewhat shyly, but very much eager for you to make due on your word.

“Can I take this off?” you tugged at his doublet, almost startling at the speed at which he stood up and took it off for you. The linen chemise he wore underneath it quickly followed and he was left shirtless in front of you. You’d never get tired of looking at him, bare or otherwise. He was beautiful, all valyrian and almost none of the Hightower blood from his mother. You believed if the god Balerion ever had a physical body it would definitely look like Aemond.

You stood up as well, facing him as your fingers traced his features. You started by tracing his nose, following the curve of it down to his mouth, his lips twitching upon your touch as he puckered them, placing a soft kiss on the pads of your fingers. You traced along the column of his throat, your fingers tangling softly on the strands at the nape of his neck and tugging gently, earning a whimper from him. Then you kept going, fingers sliding against the planes of his chest and tracing the taunt lines of muscle in his abdomen. As you reached the hem of his breeches you snaked your arm around his slim waist, sprawling your hand against the slope of his lower back and pushing him towards you. The little ‘hmph’ sound that escaped him at the impact of your bodies was quickly drowned by your lips as they claimed his own in another fierce kiss.

Your fingers started their exploration all over again, starting once more at the back of his neck and slowly following down the length of his spine, feeling each and every ridge and bump under his skin, as he shuddered with every brush of your digits.

“P-Please,” Aemond mumbled as you nipped at his bottom lip “ābrazȳrys, please.”

“Please what?” you kissed his jaw, then down his neck, then at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

“Please, touch me.”

“I am touching you, valzȳrys.” you smirked against him, your teeth nibbling gently on his skin.

“J-just please…” he moaned softly as your tongue soothed the spot you had bitten “touch me, please.”

You decided to have mercy on him, moving your hand to the front of his trousers, stopping short at the laces.

“May I?” he nodded his head desperately.

Untying his breeches you let them slide down his body, pooling at his feet, as he finally revealed himself to you. He was already hard, almost painfully so, weeping at the tip and awaiting your touch.

And then… you hesitated, unsure how to proceed. While you felt satisfaction at teasing him, you were the maiden in this situation. No amount of hushed, almost shameful lessons from your septa, no amount of embarrassing tips and advice from your mother could prepare you for the actual thing. You may have practiced your kissing skills with Jace and, briefly, with Cregan, but you had never gone any further, knowing what the realm regretfully thought of women of your station indulging before being wed and refusing to let your virtue be made a spectacle of. So while you may have talked a big game before, as if you held all the knowledge, it was all purely theoretical. 

Aemond, sensing your apprehension, searched your gaze with his.

“What is it?” he asked, voice laced with quiet concern.

“Nothing much.” you chuckled, although it sounded mirthless to your ears, conveying your embarrassment “I am merely assessing the best way to approach the situation at hand.”

While you had chosen not to be direct about your troubles, opting instead to jest about it, he had understood you clearly, for you had become so intune with one another the past few moons. With deliberate movements he delicately held your wrist, never breaking eye contact, as he brought your hand over to him slowly, very slowly, giving you ample opportunity to stop him if you wished. But you didn’t want to. You let him guide you, his large hand settling over yours as you gathered some of the pearlescent wetness dripping from his tip in your palm before guiding you to encircle his cock, his fingers around yours as he shuddered at the first contact of your skin against his.

He was hot and heavy in your hand as he directed your movements with precision, stroking his cock up and down, pumping him, slowing or speeding up your motions to his liking. Slowly but surely you started to take control, following his lead and mimicking his actions. He groaned encouragingly, letting go of your fingers, his hands settling on your waist as you continued to stroke him up and down and up and down, speeding up or slowing down, gathering some more wetness under your thumb and stroking his cock with it. His groans and grunts emboldened you, trying to gauge his reactions. 

And then you tightened your hold on him, squeezing his cock just a bit tighter under your grip, and he almost tumbled to the ground, his knees nearly buckling in reaction. His own grip on you grew tighter, as if supporting his weight on you, head tilted forward and face hiding in the crook of your neck as he moaned.  

He was loud.

Even muffled against your skin, his moans and whines resonated throughout the bedchambers as you continued your ministrations, increasing in pitch with each tilt or flick of your wrist, with each squeeze and stroke of your hand. You were tugging him faster now, your grip firm and deliberate as his cock twitched in your hold and his whole body trembled against you.

“Wait.” he mumbled, his voice strained “P-please, just wait.”

You ripped yourself away from him then, a sudden surge of guilt blooming in your chest.

“Forgive me.” you glanced at him, averting your gaze in shame as you wondered if you had made him too uncomfortable “I got carried away. I apologize.”

“You misunderstand me, wife.” he tried to slow his erratic breathing “I do not wish for you to stop. But if you continued as you were I would surely spill my seed against your hand. We should not let any of my spend go to waste on a night as important as this one.”

What?

Your confusion must have been reflected on your features for he continued his explanation, his voice carrying a teasing tone to it.

“It is expected of us to produce an heir tonight. We wouldn’t want to fail our duties now, would we?” he gripped your chin, placing a chaste kiss against your lips “The first time I spill my seed I want it to be inside your cunt.”

Had it been anyone else, had you been married to anyone else, you would have assumed they meant it as a command, solely means to an end, as producing heirs was indeed part of your duty. But this, you noticed in his eye, was his way of showcasing his true intentions without actually saying it, hiding behind some mere jesting: he wanted this. He wanted to give you an heir, for his seed to take root in your womb and for you to carry his child. The thought elicited warmth in your chest, feeling giddy at the idea.

“Can I touch you now?” he asked, his plea bordering on desperation as he gave a quick peck to your lips.

You pulled back then, staring deeply at him.

“Do you believe you deserve to touch me?” you whispered against his lips.

He faltered then, unsure what you wanted from him. A shake of his head had you scoffing softly.

“Try again.” you nuzzled your nose against his, trying to coax him out of his self made shell “Do you deserve this?”

The glint he noticed in your eyes gave away what you wanted from him, so he nodded, his movement curt and shaky.

“I want to hear you say it.” your voice made it sound like a request, but he knew it was anything but.

“Yes.” he whispered back, his breath fanning your lips.

“Yes what?”

“I deserve it.” as the words left his lips, for the first time in a long time, he started to actually believe them.

You nodded, satisfied with him.

“Yes, you do.” you cooed, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging “You do deserve this.”

As your lips settled on his jaw, he caught onto every hidden meaning of your words, affection swarming in his chest.

You deserve to be loved.

He claimed your lips in a soft kiss once more, his fingers resuming their task of untying the laces in your beautiful wedding gown, letting it slip down your arms and pool in a heap on the floor. He made quick work of your smallclothes as well, leaving you bare before him. He hurriedly stepped out of his discarded breeches, carefully helping out of your dress and closer towards the bed. 

Aemond’s fingers danced across your skin, caressing you with such reverence it almost brought tears to your eyes again. His fingers crawled down your spine, sliding between your shoulder blades, like you had done for him, his lips trailing down your neck with soft kisses. Goosebumps formed on your skin as his fingers traced your ribcage, his touch so close yet not close enough to your breasts. He nipped at your collarbone, his hand finally closing around one of your breasts, gentle, like he was weighing it in his hand, his lips following down and nibbling at the skin of the other breast. A loud, strangled whine left escaped you as he pinched your nipple, rolling the bud between two fingers, growing louder as his lips closed around the other nipple. 

You could feel the walls of your cunt pulsing as his tongue worked your breasts, your heartbeat increasing as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. The noise that left your lips seemed to spur him on even further, as he sucked with more intensity and he groped your other breast more firmly, his entire hand surrounding the skin.

His fingers trailed even further down, passing your navel and slipping between your folds. His touch was featherlight against your dripping cunt, gathering some wetness and circling your entrance, without ever dipping inside

“P-please, husband.” you whined, your back arching in pleasure at his teasing, pushing your breast even more into his face.

He relented then, pushing his finger inside your cunt, slipping in easily with how soaked you already were. His moan echoed your own as your walls fluttered around his digit. He let you get used to the intrusion for a moment before starting to move his finger inside you, his movements tentative as he explored your walls, almost like he was searching for something, for what you didn’t know.

Though you’d never admit this to anyone, you were acutely aware of his fingers, having paid close attention to them when you watched him train. They were long and slender as they gripped the handle of his sword, but at the same time they were strong and thick and, as he added a second one, you could feel how perfectly well he filled you. As he explored your cunt, you could feel every movement of his fingers brushing against your walls, that familiar coil of pleasure slowly but steadily building in your core. It only intensified as the heel of his hand pressed against your clit as he tried to reach even further inside you, the molten heat pooling in your core and starting to spread through your whole body, so much so you barely noticed when his mouth had moved to your other breast. 

Then his fingertips brushed against one spot inside your cunt that almost made you see stars, your legs wobbling as pleasure shot up your spine and assaulted all your senses. You could feel him smirk against your skin as you moaned loudly, brushing against the same spot again as you mewled and whined, trying to move away from him but the arm snaked around your back prevented you from doing so. His fingers seemed to reach places inside you didn’t know existed as he clawed and scissored inside your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It was almost too much and barely enough at the same time; you wanted him like you had never wanted anything else in your entire life.

He let go of your nipple with a wet smack of his lips, his mouth settling on that spot behind your ear and pressing soft kisses against your skin. It was such a contrast from the way his fingers were working inside your cunt, his words gentle and sweet, mumbling caring words in high valyrian as he mouthed and nibbled on your skin, but the pleasure was clouding your thoughts, the words getting fogged up in your mind. But something caught your attention, and as you tuned into the words, they were your undoing.

“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrītsos.” he whispered against the shell of your ear, laying a soft kiss on the skin “Va moriot emagon se va moriot kessa.”

With a stutter of your heart the coil in your core snapped, hot, molten pleasure washing over you and spreading throughout your whole body, tingling with dozens of goosebumps that formed on your skin. It left you breathless, sluggish and warm as you tried to regain your bearings.

“Aem…-” you tried calling out to him, voice hoarse from the intensity of your moans, but you couldn’t seem to find your voice just yet. 

But he heard you. And something in him snapped.

In an instant you were lying on your back against the soft linens, barely having time to react as he pushed you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. His lips claimed yours in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, you were sure your mouth would be sporting bruises on the morrow such was its intensity. He settled in between your spread thighs, his hard length nestling between your folds as he nipped on your jaw, kissing a line down your neck.

“Say it again, please.” he begged “Say my name again.”

“A-Aemond?”

“No, no, not that.” he admonished softly, kissing your mouth once again.

You searched your mind for what he could possibly be referring to. That was his name, was it not? What you’d always referred to him as, if you weren’t calling him by his familial ties to you, in common tongue or high valyrian alike?

Except it wasn’t.

It had been years, well over a decade even since you referred to him as something else entirely. Barely a toddler, Jace only a babe and Luke still in your mother’s womb, you followed Aemond around the Keep like a lost puppy all day, for he seemed to be the only one willing to entertain you. It was only natural then for you to worship the ground he walked on, basking in his attention for as long as he was willing to give it to you. But as such a young child you couldn’t properly speak such a complicated name in conversation, settling on calling him for a shortened sobriquet. You didn’t think much of it, and he never opposed such a nickname, until Aegon caught you calling him by the moniker and instantly started teasing the both of you relentlessly because of it. It earned him a swift kick to the shin and three days without speaking to either of them, but as it often is with small children, your grudge was quickly forgotten, going back to trailing after Aemond. However, to save both him and yourself from further humiliation, you settled for referring to him only as ‘uncle’ until you could utter his full name, never again daring to use the nickname.

It was so meaningless to you, back then. And you were both so young, he couldn’t possibly remember that, could he? 

“Aem?” you spoke tentatively, not sure if this is what he wished for.

The loud whine that escaped his lips, breathed against your cheek, and the way his cock twitched were all the answer you needed. 

“Please, little niece, byka mandianna,” he rasped, desperation dripping from his tone as he started gently rocking his hips against yours “Please say that again.”

“Aem…” you said with more confidence, breaking off into a moan at the end as the head of his cock brushed against your clit.

He shifted his body on top of you, lining his cock up with your entrance.

“Again, please.” 

“A-Aem?” even though you wanted this, truly and wholeheartedly, now that you were about to consummate your marriage for real you were suddenly filled with a twinge of apprehension. While you were certain Aemond wasn’t like most men, you had heard stories from women at court about how their husbands treated them in the throes of passion.

Sensing your quiet distress, Aemond lifted his head to stare at you, sapphire eye glinting under the soft glow of the candles and silver strands cascading around you.

“We can stop if you wish.” he spoke quietly.

“No, no please, I want to. I am just…”

Even if you couldn’t quite explain it he seemed to understand, for he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“I promise to be gentle.”

In his eye you saw nothing but truth, the sincerity of his words easing your nerves.

“I trust you.”

He nodded and started ever so slowly pushing inside you, inch by inch, pulling back and thrusting inside again, a little deeper than before. It was a lot for the both of you, your combined moans echoing through the chambers; even though he wanted to look upon your eyes as you shared this moment he couldn’t, his head falling against your shoulder as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. His cock was met with little resistance, your cunt still soaked. The pain you were previously expecting came in the form of an acute pinch as your cunt stretched to accommodate him, your breath hitching and a whimper passing through your lips. Aemond shushed and cooed against your ear, little whispers of ‘I’ve got you’ spoken against your ear as he stalled his movements, only resuming them when he felt you relax in his arms once more.

When he finally settled, his hips flush against yours and his cock inside your cunt to the hilt, you released your breath, not even realizing you had been holding it. You felt like you were burning from within where your bodies were connected, yet it was a comforting kind of heat, not at all like dragonfire. At least not yet. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every twitch that made the walls of your cunt clench in response. It was so intimate, you had never been closer to a person in your life, and you felt like the longer you stayed like this you were being perfectly molded to one another, as if you weren’t already a permanent fixture in each other’s hearts. You felt complete.

As your discomfort subsided, the pain slowly turning to a sense of fullness, you tangled your fingers in his hair, turning your head to the side to breathe upon his ear.

“I am alright now, husband. You can move.”

Regardless of your request he stood still for a moment longer, breathing heavily and erratically against your skin. 

“Aem?” you spoke softly, worried it might be too much for him.

That seemed to do the trick, as Aemond slowly started to roll his hips against yours, pulling his cock almost all the way out and thrusting back in, filling you to the brim once more. Every time he would thrust back in the head of his cock would brush against that spot inside your cunt that had your eyes rolling back, shooting little bolts of pleasure up your spine and filling your core with fire once more. 

His hips picked up pace, then, his thrusts far faster and more powerful than before. He let go, fully dropping his weight on top of you, pressing you against the mattress as your legs framed his hips, your hands gripping at his shoulder blades. 

It was intense and blazing and comforting and overwhelming and caring and sultry and loving and oh, so good, all at the same time this push and pull and shove and tug and you couldn’t think straight yet your focus was sharp and you could feel everything and it was absolutely, downright perfect. 

The stretch of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock was no longer painful, giving away to unimaginable pleasure like you had never felt before. You were acutely aware of the way Aemond mouthed at your shoulder, mumbling barely coherent words against your skin.

“Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria.” he grunted against your skin, groaning as the words made you clench tightly around him “Dōna zaldrītsos, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys.”   

He was rambling, almost irrationally, too far gone in his own pleasure. That and the way his thrusts were becoming sloppy, now more of a rut of his hips against yours, indicated that he was close.

Enamored with the way he moaned your name and your title and your future title and sweet monikers, in high valyrian mostly, you couldn’t help but want to see how far he would go.

“Husband, valzȳrys,” you tangled your fingers in his hair once more, giving the locks a gentle tug, earning a whine in response “Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes. Avy jorrāelan tolī hae olvie hae konīr issi qēlossās isse se jēdar, Aem.”

It was enough to send him off the edge, his hips stuttering and cock twitching violently, painting your walls with warm ropes of his seed. He practically sobbed in your arms between clenched teeth, his arms squeezing you tightly against him as he gave a few more weak thrusts, his breath fanning the skin of your neck still. The scorching pressure that had been building in your stomach seemed to fade slightly as Aemond slowed to a stop, his softening cock still nestled inside you as he stilled completely on top of you, trembling in your arms. His hair was sticking to his head, damp with sweat, the rest of his body also drenched and clammy from the exertion, much like your own. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch his breath and recover. 

“F-Forgive me, ābrazȳrys.” he raised his head and it was then you could see the remnant of tears in his eyes, from your words or the intensity of his peak, you couldn’t tell.

“What for?” you smiled brightly at him, pushing a strand of silvery hair behind his ear, making him shiver as your fingers brushed against his cheek.

“Y-you did-” he finally seemed to recollect his thoughts as he pushed himself on his forearms above you “You did not peak.”

“That is quite alright.” you shrugged, not at all bothered by that “I did so earlier, from your fingers.”

He shook his head, a determined look in his face as if to say that that wouldn’t do.

“No wife of mine will be left unsatisfied.” he was already pulling out of you with a soft hiss and maneuvering on the bed despite your protests, coming to settle on his stomach at the edge of the mattress.

“Aemond what are you-” you yelped as he grabbed both your legs and yanked you towards himself, his face level with your cunt. He placed your thighs over his shoulders and placed one arm over your stomach “Aemond, you do not have to.” you tried once more.

“I want to.” he said, his eyes never straying from where his spend started leaking from your cunt “Can a man not enjoy the taste of his wife on their wedding night?”

“Of course you can, it is just that-” he didn’t let you finish, pulling another broken, choked moan from you as he licked a broad stripe over your folds. 

Aemond feasted upon your cunt like a man starved, drinking down your juices mixed with his own spend, but that didn’t seem to deter him, oh no, if anything the salty taste of himself against your own tangy one only seemed to spur him on.

It didn’t take long to get you back to where you were moments before, that burning pressure still lingering in the back of your mind. You knew Aemond was talented with his tongue, hells, he was known for his silver tongue that could cut down even the most fearless in court. Moreover, he was fluent in the language of your ancestors, his tongue rolling around the letters as he almost purred the words into the world, a language just for your own. And yet, he never ceased to surprise you with how good he could make you feel with his tongue alone.

Clenching the sheets under your palms, you almost sobbed as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He rolled it around his lips, his tongue peaking out to give your clit a few small licks as he extended one of his arms to, prying your fingers from the linens and threading them with his own, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, his other arm draped across your stomach, holding your hips down as you started canting them against his face.

You weakly raised yourself on your forearms to be able to look at him properly, peering at him through heavy lidded eyes, and were surprised to notice him already looking at you, gazing at you with so much adoration in his eye as his hips rutted against the bed. You realized, not for the first time, that bringing you pleasure brought him pleasure in return. He hummed as he noticed you staring at him, the vibrations sending jolts of unbridled pleasure up your spine and down again. His eyes twinkled and curled up, little crinkled lines adorning the corners, and you recognized that the smug bastard was smirking, self-satisfied at having you reduced to such a moaning mess before him.

The coil of pleasure in the form of a pool of liquid heat was steadily building up again with each stroke of his tongue over your folds, each flick of his lips over your clit stoking that fire growing and expanding inside you. His grip on your hips tightened as his other hand moved down to your cunt and shoved two fingers inside you, pulling back a bit to address you quietly.

“Let go, wife. I know you want to. You can let go for me.”

And then his fingers curled upwards, brushing against that spongy spot once more and you were done for. The bliss that washed over you, tangling with the burning love you held for this man, was so intense it sent waves through your whole body. Stars danced behind your eyelids, your eyes having closed on their own accord some time before, as the pleasure rolled and stretched to all of your extremities, making your fingertips tingle and your toes curl, knocking the breath from your lungs. Although you knew your jaw was hanging open you couldn’t hear yourself, but you couldn’t discern if it was due to the ringing in your ears or if you had already screamed yourself hoarse.

As your perception of the world around you slowly returned once you came down from your high, the pleasure subsiding and leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling in its wake, you felt Aemond’s thumb gently stroking your knuckles, having removed his hand from inside you, his other palm spread over your stomach as he helped you coax you back down and when you gazed at him you were met with his gentle smile

“T-thank you, husband.” you said a few moments later after catching your breath, exhaustion starting to settle in your bones as you relaxed over the linens, your head falling back on the bed.

“Oh, you thought I was done with you?” he asked, almost mockingly. Raising your head again you noticed his prior smile had given way to a menacing smirk as he started crawling over you slowly, looking predatory. He covered your body with his once more, and you felt his hardened cock against your thigh, having stimulated himself back to full hardness.

“I don’t intend on letting you leave this bed until I have filled you with my seed over and over and over,” he punctuated each pause with a kiss to your lips as he whispered “that I have made sure it has taken root inside you. We need to produce an heir after all, dear wife.”

High Valyrian translations: - ābrazȳrys - wife - valzȳrys - husband - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - ñuha jorrāelagon - my love or my dear - avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrītsos - I love you, my little dragon - va moriot emagon se va moriot kessa - always have and always will - byka mandianna - little niece - ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria - my wife, my queen - dōna zaldrītsos, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys - sweet little dragon, dear wife  - avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes - I love you, my dragon - avy jorrāelan tolī hae olvie hae konīr issi qēlossās isse se jēdar - I love you as much as there are stars in the sky

Tag List:

@callsignwidow

@sleephereicome

@bitchassgoose

@voguiing

@dibutw

@fruityvampslayer

@garden-in-the-rain

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 2: I’m The Son Of Rage And Love]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Jesus Of Suburbia” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

On the shores of the Susquehanna River, just north of Harrisburg, you find a Wawa with no gas: bags on all the pumps, cars with their fuel caps unscrewed and dangling. This is a common courtesy adopted en masse, like rationing during the World Wars or flying American flags after 9/11. It signals that a car has already been siphoned, no gasoline to be found here, no transparent flammable gold made of eons-past decomposition. You wonder if in a few million years, some unfathomable new apex species will be drilling your liquefied remains from the lightless layers of the earth to power their spaceships.

“Then we got sent to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling,” Rio continues, gnawing on a piece of beef jerky, Jack Link’s in a red bag, teriyaki. Mercifully, whoever took the gas left some of the food. You are sitting in the parking lot, a quaint zombie apocalypse picnic, trail mix and Rice Krispies Treats, Herr’s potato chips and Tastykakes, warm soda sipped from plastic bottles. Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the Tahoe. Jace is tearing the convenience store apart; he is convinced the employees must have kept a gun somewhere in case of robberies. You know he’s fine. You can hear him banging around and swearing in there.

“Then we built some schools and a hospital in Djibouti,” you say.

Aegon is baffled yet intrigued. “Djibouti…?”

“It’s on the Horn of Africa, near Ethiopia and Somalia.”

Luke snorts. “It’s nice of you to assume he knows where Africa is.”

“Huh.” Aegon tosses a green M&M into his mouth. “Djibouti is horny.”

Rio says: “And after that we spent like six months in Key West, and then we got shipped to Corpus Christi, where Chips very narrowly avoided getting impregnated by, marrying, and inevitably acrimoniously divorcing a Marine.”

Everyone laughs except Aemond, who gives you a teasing smirk. “Did you really?”

“Uh, no. He asked me out, I ghosted him, that’s as far as it went.”

“Why’d you ghost him?” Baela says, crunching on Utz Cheese Balls.

Aegon turns to Rio. “You want a Honey Bun?”

“You’re my Honey Bun,” Rio replies. Aegon smiles, his sunburn flushing darker.

You shrug, eat a handful of candied almonds, tell a half-truth. “I just didn’t like him enough.”

Rhaena yelps and points: a snake, black and maybe five feet long, is slithering across the parking lot. It passes beneath the shade of the Tahoe and then continues towards the bushes. A moderate amount of panic erupts.

Helaena glances up from her notebook. “Rat snake. Not venomous.”

Rhaena shudders. “Well, I still don’t like it.”

“Where were you stationed next?” Daeron asks Rio.

“Chinhae, South Korea. Wicked cool place. The people love Americans, the food is incredible. We were there to rebuild a pier that got wrecked in a typhoon. They have these cute dolphin-looking things, they’d swim right up to the edge of the water with fish in their mouths to try to give to us. Like cats bringing home mice for their owners.”

“Finless porpoises,” you say.

“Yeah, those. And after Korea, it was Diego Garcia.”

“Diego…what?” Rhaena says.

Aegon turns to Luke. “Try to act like I’m stupid for not knowing where that is.”

“Diego Garcia is a tiny little island in the middle of the Indian Ocean,” you say, a bit wistfully. “It’s technically owned by the British, but we share a base there, we use it for airfields and to refuel submarines, things like that. We were renovating the housing facilities for Camp Thunder Cove. At night we’d go to the beach, have a few beers, look out into the ocean and it was just…nothing. Wide open dark nothingness for as far as you could imagine.”

“That’s what we need now,” Helaena murmurs as she makes elegant cursive annotations in her notebook, the cover picturing different species of spiders, a pinktoe tarantula, a green lynx spider, a black widow. “Someplace to go where no one will find us.”

“So you’ve known each other since basic training.” Aemond’s remaining blue eye shifts between you and Rio, like he’s still trying to puzzle it out. There’s really no mystery. You’re friends, and you’ve always been friends, and you’ve never been more than friends, despite many of your fellow seamen’s jokes to the contrary.

You tear open a Slim Jim. Aemond rebandaged your hands this morning, though they barely hurt anymore; he touches you with a clinical, focused restraint. “Not quite that long. Rio enlisted a few months before I did, so we weren’t at Great Lakes together, and then carpenters do technical school in Gulfport, Mississippi near Biloxi, and electricians train at Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas. We met after we were both assigned to Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 1.”

“The First and The Finest,” Rio quotes the motto, grinning. “The original Seabees, founded during World War II. People called our battalion the Pioneers, which…is kind of ironic now.”

Aegon says, munching noisily on trail mix: “It’ll be so appropriate when you end up dying of a broken leg or the flu or in some other totally preventable way.”

“It’s so crazy, people died of anything back then,” Luke marvels gravely. “Tuberculosis, pneumonia, infections, starving, freezing, poisoning, getting kicked by a horse, giving birth…”

Rhaena shoots him a fearsome look and Luke shuts up, but of course he can’t take it back. There is a long uncomfortable silence punctuated only by birdsong and Jace’s muffled outbursts from inside the Wawa. Everyone looks at Baela, concerned, pitying, entirely unable to do anything to improve her situation. She is still eating Cheese Balls with one orange-stained hand, but the other rests on her belly.

“Clearly, the timing is less than ideal,” Baela says after a while, and if she’s terrified she doesn’t sound like it. “It wasn’t planned to begin with, but I was determined to make the best of things. I figured that I could still finish up my master’s degree with a baby, and Rhaena and our parents could help, and Jace would be done with law school soon, and it might be stressful for a while but we’d all get through it. And now…” She shrugs wryly. “Now all those plans are gone. Just gone.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Aemond says; a fierce low determination, a promise, a vow.

Baela smiles at Rio. “How old is your baby?”

He is caught off-guard, clears his throat, averts his gaze. Aegon looks over at him, alarmed. “Oh, he, uh…he’s little. Really little. He…” And Rio, so rarely at a loss for words, can’t continue. He eats his beef jerky instead.

You explain for him. “Sophie’s due date was right around the time the phones and internet went down. The last we heard, she was headed to Odessa to stay with Rio’s parents.” Aemond and his companions nod and don’t say what they’re thinking, but it’s swimming in their eyes: Sophie could have died, the baby could have died, they both could have died, you and Rio might be risking your lives to cross the continental United States for nothing. “Rio’s parents live in this…well, I joke around and call it a doomsday prepper cult, but that’s not really what it is, it’s just a farming community out in the middle of nowhere. People who have their own chickens and gardens, churn their own butter, don’t wear deodorant, make medicine out of tree bark…and a lot of them have kind of a survivalist mentality, they stock pantries and collect guns. So we figure we can reunite Rio with his family and then carve out lives for ourselves in relative peace.”

Rio reaches over to bump his fist against your shoulder. He is grateful. You punch him back, fairly forcefully; it’s like hitting a brick wall. Rio is as tall as Aemond but probably outweighs him by a hundred pounds.

You ask Aemond: “What’s in the Bay Area?”

“Our parents have a beach house. It’s up on a cliff by itself, pretty isolated, and surrounded by state parks. That’s where they were when everything shut down. I assume they’re still there.”

“Beach house?” Rio raises his eyebrows. “On a cliff?”

Rich kids. REALLY rich kids. “Your parents couldn’t just fly you to California in a private jet or something?” you say.

“Our pilots stole the jets,” Aemond replies, not realizing you were joking.

“Oh.”

“Jace and Luke’s parents were home in London, so getting there isn’t really an option, and then Baela and Rhaena…”

“Mum and Dad were on a business trip to Moscow,” Baela says. “I’d like to think they weren’t eaten, but…they were probably eaten.”

“I am so sorry,” you manage awkwardly.

A single zombie goes shuffling past the Wawa on the main street, a woman in a floral church dress, hair falling out of its curls, one pink high heel that clicks on the pavement, blood all over her mouth and chin. She notices the nine of you and begins to hiss, lurching closer. Daeron shoots her down and then trots over to retrieve his arrows, yanking them out of her cheek and eye socket. Rhaena winces. Aemond, distracted, bites into a Nature Valley granola bar. Aegon opens a can of Pringles, pizza-flavored.

Luke is peering through his binoculars, looking south towards Harrisburg. Faintly, you can see sunlight glinting off the gilded statue of a woman—the Spirit of the Commonwealth—that tops the green clay tile dome of the state capitol building. “What is that?”

“The sculpture?” you say.

“No. Farther away. Those big concrete towers, right on the water.”

Now you know exactly what he means…and you’d forgotten all about it. It’s an oversight you hope doesn’t cost too much. “That’s Three Mile Island. And we should leave so we can put more space between it and us.”

“Oh, fuck me…” Rio mutters.

Now everyone else is squinting to see the facility, barely visible from the Wawa. “Why?” Aemond asks you.

“Because it’s a nuclear power plant. And since the electricity is out everywhere, as soon as its backup generators fail, it will melt down and the whole area around it will become radioactive.”

Aegon puts two Pringles into his mouth so they look like a duck bill. “How do you know?”

“Did no one else go through a Chernobyl obsession phase in high school?”

“The professor mentioned it in one of my chemistry classes,” Aemond says, but he sounds doubtful; this must have been years ago, when he was consumed by med school prerequisites and had no space left in his brain for mere curiosity.

“Okay, listen up.” Rio knows the key points; he’s had to study different sources of electrical power. He demonstrates with dramatic hand gestures. “You have super radioactive reactor fuel, usually uranium or plutonium. You have a pool of water around it that circulates continuously. The heat of the fuel evaporates the water, which makes steam, which spins turbines, thus creating power. But if the external electricity fails, the water stops circulating, and the heat vaporizes all of it, and when there’s no more water the reactor fuel overheats and melts through the floor and poisons the earth, air, and groundwater. Any questions?”

There is a chorus of distressed chattering as people swiftly rise to their feet, clutching armfuls of snacks for the road. Jace comes trudging out of the Wawa, conspicuously not in possession of a firearm.

“No luck?” Daeron asks.

“Obviously not.” Then Jace snaps at Aemond: “Why were you stomping around all pissed off in the medicine aisle earlier? What were you looking for?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says quickly.

“Seriously, dude, what was it?”

“Nothing!”

“Damn, Plankton, calm down.” Jace shields his face from the sun, following Luke’s nervous eyeline towards the concrete cooling towers to the south. “What’s that?”

“Three Mile Island,” you say. “And we’re leaving now.”

Aegon yawns loudly. “I’m so full! Rio, can you carry me to the car?” And before anyone can tell Aegon to shut up, Rio has crouched down to let him scramble onto his back. Aegon cackles and waves his can of Pringles around as Rio sprints to the Tahoe. Now there are a few more zombies stumbling up the street, but you don’t waste arrows or bullets on them. Baela runs them down as she swerves out of the parking lot and drives northwest, heading towards Clarks Ferry Bridge where you will cross the Susquehanna River in a less populated area and commence the long slog to the Ohio border. She turns up the volume on the CD player: London Bridge by Fergie. Immediately, Rio, Aegon, Daeron, Rhaena, and Luke are singing along.

Baela checks the fuel gauge and looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “We have half a tank left.”

“We’ll find gas somewhere.”

“Aemond, it’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not going to be able to walk to California.”

Baela can’t think of a response. He’s right. Outside, the miles roll by in a blur of radiant, reptilian, early-summer green.

~~~~~~~~~~

Each time the interstate is blocked by a snarl of crashed vehicles or a backup too thick to navigate through—both common occurrences—Aegon digs the folded map out of his shorts and charts a new course for Baela to follow. This particular divergence might prove fortunate. The Tahoe has rolled into Distant, Pennsylvania, an Appalachian speck of a town, churches, coal mines, dilapidated old sheds. On the outskirts, perched on a hill and surrounded by oak trees, you find a small single-story brick house with a myriad of banners on the flagpole: an American flag, a Confederate flag, a black POW/MIA flag, Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024.

“Yeah,” Aegon says, scratching his scruffy chin as he peers up through the windshield. “I feel like they probably owned guns.”

“How do we know they’re not still home?” Baela asks warily.

“No car in the driveway,” Aemond observes. “No windows boarded up. They probably ran into trouble while they were out somewhere and never made it back.” Then he waits, the question upspoken. Are we going to risk it?

“We’re down,” Rio says after exchanging a glance with you.

Aemond turns to Jace. Jace—curly dark hair down to his shoulders, eyes on the house, chewing his full bottom lip apprehensively—doesn’t reply at first.

“You said you wanted a gun, Jace. All the Walmarts are cleaned out. This is what shopping looks like now.”

“Fine. Okay. Let’s go.”

Baela parks the Tahoe in the gravel driveway and tells Rhaena and Luke to stay inside with Helaena until the property has been cleared. The rest of you climb out, afternoon sun and mountain wind, dandelions crushed under your shoes. There’s a barn behind the house, you see now, gaps between the wooden boards and flaking red paint.

Luke is standing up through the open sunroof, inspecting the scene with his binoculars. “No movement.”

“We’ll take the house, if you want,” Rio tells Aemond. You’re clutching your borrowed baseball bat with bandaged hands, though it still feels unnatural; your M9 is in its holster in case of emergencies. Jace, Baela, and Daeron start plodding across the yard towards the barn. The grass is tall and mostly shaded, the oak trees decades old, massive, weaving a patchwork canopy of leaves.

Aegon trots over and slaps Aemond on his left shoulder, his blind side. Aemond says without looking at him: “I’ll go with them. You wait out here.”

Aegon drives an imaginary ball with his golf club. “I’m very sensitive to rejection, you know.”

“You’ll survive.” Then Aemond follows you and Rio to the house.

Rio tries the knob, locked. He doesn’t waste a bullet by trying to shoot the lock off the door, something that is far less reliable than movies would have you believe. He kicks it open instead, three tries and then the screws that secure the latch give way and the door swings ajar. You wait, counting seconds in your head, listening for growls or footsteps. There are no sounds except the breeze sighing through the trees, the warbles and wing flaps of birds. You steal a glimpse of the barn. Jace, Baela, and Daeron have unhooked the rusted iron latch and are venturing inside, Daeron last and glancing around watchfully, his compound bow already drawn. Rio steps into the house.

It’s hot, stifling, all the windows shut. But this has its advantages. You inhale deeply: no trace of decomposition, no black swampy nauseating rot, just dust and lemon Pledge and old-people staleness.

“Smells fine,” Rio says. And then, loudly: “Anyone home? We’re just looking for supplies. We don’t want to hurt you. If anybody is here, just let us know and we’d be happy to leave. And, uh, sorry about the door.”

You stay close to Rio as he sweeps through the living room—floral couch, television turned off, crosses on the walls—and then the kitchen, where bananas are turning black on the counter. Aemond is to your right; he’s placed you on his blind side. He trusts me, you think. When did that happen? You haven’t heard anything from Aegon or the barn. That must be going well.

In the bedroom, Aemond pulls the curtains open to let some light in. You search the drawers, the closet, under the bed. No weapons. The bathroom has 1950s-style pink porcelain, the dining room table is set for a meal that never happened. There is a deer head mounted on the wall, ten points, not bad.

“I can’t believe these fuckers didn’t have guns,” Rio says. “But where the hell are they?!”

You have always watched more than you’ve spoken. That’s why you’re good at shooting things, and why you’re still alive. Rio talks and you listen; Rio acts and you reflect. “Wait.” You turn to Aemond. “Did you see a cellar outside?”

“A what?” He is perplexed. “Like…a wine cellar…?”

“No. A regular cellar.” You walk back into the midday heat and circle the house, Aemond and Rio hurrying to keep up. Over by the barn, everyone else is stretched out across the grass, joking, relaxing, Baela with her hammer on the ground and her hands laced over her belly, Helaena cradling a praying mantis in her palms and showing it to Rhaena. Aegon is teaching Luke how to smoke with a pack of Marlboro Golds he found at the Wawa. Luke, game yet somewhat anxious, takes a puff and then immediately coughs until he starts retching.

“I want to try too,” Daeron says.

Aegon shakes his head, taking a nonchalant drag off his own cigarette. “Nope. Not for you. Illegal. You’re under eighteen.”

“I want to try!”

“Shut up, you can’t even vote.”

“Nobody can vote, the government has collapsed!”

You find it at the back of the house: a pair of large metal doors leading down into the underground cellar. The weeds have begun to encroach on them, wild violets and black nightshade.

“Awesome!” Rio says, lifting the doors open one at a time, the hinges shrieking. They’re heavy, but they cause him no trouble. Underneath is a staircase and a room dark with shadows; you can see a light switch that won’t work, the electricity long gone. Rio unclips the flashlight from his  belt—taken from Saratoga Springs, waterproof with a 90-degree head so it doesn’t roll, known as a Moonbeam—and ducks down into the cellar. It’s a small room, easy to clear, and then you can start inventorying your findings. Rio is laughing, ecstatic. There is a workbench, a coil of thick rope, an array of tools—screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers, saws—some homemade leather wallets and holsters, cans of Brillo color spray…and then a treasure trove of weapons mounted on the walls.

You scan the collection. “We got Marlin .22s, we got Ruger Magnums, we got Remington 12 gauges, we got hunting knives…and one Glock 20.”

“A lot of ammo under here, Chips,” Rio says, yanking boxes out from beneath the workbench and stacking them on the floor, organized by caliber.

“No scopes?”

“Not that I’ve seen yet.”

You lift one of the Remingtons off its hooks and examine it: dusty, unloaded, vines of rust on the receiver. “We’ll have to go through and sight all of them. I don’t think they’ve been used in a while.”

“That’ll be a lot of noise. But here’s the place to do it, I guess. Low population, and we’re not staying.”

“Exactly.”

“Sight them for close range, like ten yards?”

“Yeah, that should work.”

Aemond says, eyebrow raised: “I didn’t know the Navy used shotguns.”

“Everyone hunts where I’m from.” You put the Remington down on the workbench then pick up the Glock, a box of 10mm ammo, and a can of Brillo. “Come on. Grab one of those hammers. I’ll show you how to shoot.”

You bound up the cellar steps and out into the shade of the oak trees, not stopping until you are at the edge of the property. Across the backyard where he lounges on the grass, Aegon gestures to the barn and asks Luke: “What’s in there anyway?”

“Nothing. Saddles and a few dead horses.”

“Oh, dynamite, I gotta see the dead horses.”

Jace says: “Aegon, man, what is your diagnosis?”

You use the can of Brillo to spray a large chocolate-colored circle onto a tree trunk, then make another two feet above that. You count your steps as you walk back towards Aemond: approximately ten yards. You load a single bullet in the Glock, aim for the bottom circle, and fire. A hole appears at the very edge of the circle. You take the hammer from Aemond and give the rear sight a few knocks. “This isn’t recommended, but it usually works.”

Aemond is smiling. “Okay.”

You load the full magazine and try again. The bullet hits closer to the middle this time. “Here. Both hands.”

Aemond takes the Glock but hesitates. “Is…my eye…?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. A lot of people close one eye anyway when they’re aiming. I always do.”

He is relieved. “Oh. Good.”

You tap the underside of the Glock. Aemond obediently lifts it. “The line of sight is slightly higher than the barrel, so you have to account for that. And then gravity will pull the bullet lower, and the longer the range of the shot, the more it will drop. So when you fire, the barrel should be angled upwards just the tiniest bit, not horizontal.”

“Like throwing a football.”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s an arc, not a straight line. At first it’ll feel like you’re trying to do all these calculations in your head, and it will be overwhelming, but then it becomes muscle memory and you don’t even have to think about it.” Jace, Baela, and Daeron are now eagerly crossing the yard to help Rio carry the guns out of the cellar and receive their own lessons. “Alright, we’re going to start with a really terrifying enemy. I want you to shoot that tree.”

“What a formidable tree.”

“Aim for the top circle. And if you hit it, then you can practice on Jace.”

Aemond laughs, butter-yellow sunlight filtering down through the trees, the shadows of leaves flickering over his skin, a mosaic of flesh and earth. You ghost your open hand down the length of his arm as if adjusting the angle. Really, you just want to touch him, to feel his warmth and his stillness, the tension of his muscles, the rhythm of his pulse. He’s watching you, lips parted, goosebumps rising beneath your fingertips. Birds are chirping, sparrows and blue jays. High above, squirrels leap and scrabble through the branches. You pull your hand away.

“Look through the sights. The rear sight at the back of the barrel is shaped like a U, and the one at the front is an I. Is the I in the middle of the U?”

“I have no idea.” A pause as he reconsiders. “Yes.”

“Right, it is, and the bullet should go exactly where you want it to because I already sighted that Glock. I’ll show you how to do it later. Now shoot the tree.”

Aemond aims but doesn’t pull the trigger. He’s nervous; he doesn’t want to seem incompetent, pathetic. You imagine it is rare that he isn’t the one with the solutions.

“Hey,” you say softly, and he looks over at you. “You don’t judge me for not knowing how to cure people. I won’t judge you for not knowing how to kill them. Deal?”

Now he’s smiling again. “Deal.” He returns his attention to the tree, lets a few more seconds tick by, and fires. He hits one of the branches. “Oh, that is…embarrassing.”

“It’s not that bad. You hit something. Try again.”

More seconds, more birdsong, more wind through the grass and the leaves. Aemond’s second bullet pierces the trunk about six inches above the top circle. “Yes!” he cheers, boyish triumph on his scarred face.

You resist touching him. It is startlingly difficult. “That was really good.”

He lowers the Glock, and you click the safety on for him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say.

“Why’d you ghost that Marine at Corpus Christi?”

“I told you. I didn’t like him enough.”

“Okay, sure, but actually. What was wrong with him?”

“I’ve known you for like twenty-four hours. You think you’ve earned all my secrets?”

“Well, not all of them,” Aemond says, grinning. Rio is showing Jace, Baela, and Daeron how to load the .22s. Aegon is swinging his golf club in circles as he follows Luke into the barn. Helaena and Rhaena are giggling as butterflies land on their outstretched fingers. “But our time together could be very finite. It seems unwise to waste it by trying to preserve some amount of mystery.”

“You’ve convinced me.” You want to be known by him, you want to be understood. That is a frightening thing to realize. It’s like handing a stranger the keys to your home. Will they visit graciously, or will they rob you, ruin you, burn you down? “I haven’t seen many examples of love working out for people. I’ve seen couples who hated each other, and couples who split up, and a lot of women having to raise kids all on their own and turning into these…bitter, exhausted, hollowed-out versions of themselves. I never wanted that to be me. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like that was just one wrong choice away from becoming my life. I don’t want men to disappoint me. So I don’t give them the chance.”

You think Aemond is going to say something cheap, flirtatious, awful: Give me a chance, baby. I won’t disappoint you. Instead he says: “I haven’t known many happy couples either. I mean…Luke and Rhaena would be the closest, I guess. But they’re so young. I’m not sure if they count.”

“Rio and Sophie seem happy. But they’ve also barely seen each other in five years.”

“It does things to you, when you start to believe love might be doomed to end or tear you apart or turn to hatred. If it’s just an evolutionary mirage to trick us into reproducing, what’s the point of giving someone that power over you?”

“Exactly.”

“I feel like one of us should be trying to talk the other out of being so fatalistically cynical.”

“Yeah, totally. Okay. You talk me out of it.”

He chuckles. “No, I don’t think I can. You talk me out of it.”

You’re watching Aemond, realizing you like everything about him—his smirk, his height, his hands, the clear direct blue of his eye—and wondering what the hell you’re going to do about it. Then there is a scream from the barn.

What?? Who??

“Luke!” Aemond shouts, and takes off across the yard. Now you’re all running, even Rhaena and Helaena who don’t have anything to fight with. Everyone is yelling, their lungs heaving in wild June air, their shoes pounding against the earth.

Inside the barn, on a wooden floor strewn with hay, Luke is shrieking as he tries to push a zombie off of him with his bare hands. She’s an older woman, grey hair in rollers, yellow nightgown stained with gore. Something has happened to her feet. Both of her legs end in exposed tibias and flapping strips of purplish, rotting skin. Aegon is beating her with his golf club, but he can’t get a good shot at her head. If he accidentally hits Luke, he could make it worse, he could stun him or even knock him out, and he’ll be bitten in the few seconds it takes anyone to remove his undead assailant. Rio lunges to grab the zombie. She snaps at him with bared teeth and he retreats, drawing his M9.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace is saying. The air is putrid: dead horses, dead people. “You’ll hit Luke!”

Your own M9 is suddenly in your hands, the safety clicked off, one eye closed. “Luke, don’t move.”

“Kill it, kill it!” he pleads hysterically, pushing the zombie as far from him as he can, his palms sinking into the decomposing bruise-colored tissue of her chest and throat.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace orders, but you ignore him. He fades into the background with all the other frenzied voices. Your finger on the trigger, a boom like thunder, bits of bone and brains against the wall. Luke shoves the corpse away, trembling, sobbing. Rhaena flies to him.

Aegon spots the fresh blood on Luke’s right hand and panics. “Is that a bite?!”

Luke notices the wound for the first time. “I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I don’t know!” Luke wails, tears flooding down his pink face.

“I thought you cleared the barn!” Aemond roars at Aegon.

“It fell out of the loft, we didn’t think anything was up there!”

Luke is blubbering: “I hit my hand against one of the stalls, I think that’s how I cut myself, I was just…I was pushing it away…I didn’t think it bit me…oh my God, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t want to die…”

“It only takes once, kid,” Rio says grimly, fidgeting with his M9, looking at Aemond as if for permission.

“Don’t touch him!” Jace hisses, stepping in front of his brother and clutching his bat. “No one is going to hurt him, it’s not a bite, you can’t prove it’s a bite!”

You reach for Luke’s bleeding hand. “Can I see—?”

“Get away from him!” Jace swings his bat. The tip of it connects with your skull, just a graze fortunately, but still enough to rattle you. Rio charges Jace, tackles him to the floor, starts throwing punches. Baela has apparently forgotten she’s heavily pregnant and is trying to pull them apart. You join her.

He’s going to demolish Jace. He’s going to break his nose or jaw or something. “Rio stop, I’m fine, stop!”

There is another gunshot, a cataclysmic earth-shaking explosion that makes the pain in your head surge from a ripple to a wave. Aemond is aiming his Glock skywards; a hole has appeared in the roof of the barn. “Stand up!” he commands. Rio and Jace reluctantly comply. You help Baela to her feet.

“Aemond,” Jace says. “You have to stop them, they’re going to kill Luke—”

“No one is killing anybody.” Aemond lowers his Glock. “Maybe he’s been bitten. Maybe he hasn’t been. And even if we knew for sure that he was going to turn, we don’t just execute people like this, threatening them when they’re terrified. We have humanity. We have compassion.”

There is a silence that strikes you as heavy, laden, holding meaning that escapes you. Aegon points at Luke. “So what the fuck are we going to do about him?”

“We’ll tie him up,” Aemond decides.

“What?!” Luke exclaims.

“There’s rope in the cellar. We’ll tie his arms and legs so he can’t do anything and keep him like that for a few days until either his hand heals up or he turns into a zombie. Someone will always have to be with him to help him eat and take a piss and also…you know. Deal with it if he turns.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says immediately.

Aemond’s voice is now gentle, sympathetic. “I don’t think you want this.”

“If Luke has to die, I should be the person with him.”

“You’ve never had to put someone down before.” And in this statement lives another: Aemond knows what that feels like. Aemond has had to kill someone when they turned.

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says again, this frail harmless doe-eyed girl, and you see a steeliness in her that you hadn’t thought existed.

“Okay,” Aemond relents. “When you’re asleep, Jace or I will take over.”

“It’s not a bite,” Jace murmurs, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“We’ll all find out soon enough,” Rio says, casting him a glare, then goes to fetch the coil of rope from the cellar.

Aemond cleans and bandages the wound on Luke’s hand. Then the weapons, ammo, and newly immobilized Luke are loaded into the Tahoe. Aemond asks you once everyone else is inside: “How’s your head?”

“Fine, I think.”

“Hurts?”

“Just a little.”

“Dizzy? Double vision?”

“No, nothing like that.”

He takes a quick look, parting your hair with his fingertips, feeling gingerly for blood and swelling. And this is becoming a serious problem: every time he touches you, you want more.

“Aemond…who did you have to kill?”

He doesn’t answer. For another moment his hand lingers by your temple, then Aemond turns away and climbs into the Tahoe. This time, no one sings along to the next song on the mixtape. Heads rest on windows, eyes are vacant and misty. Baela steers the Tahoe westbound on Route 1004, the Chainsmokers drifting through the speakers: All We Know.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Pick a card, any card,” Aegon says when he’s done shuffling. He fans out the entire Uno deck face-down and offers it to Rio, Aemond, and Jace. They each select a card, then Aegon picks one for himself. Finally, he holds out the deck to Luke, who stares up incredulously from where he’s still bound with rope and sitting on a curb in the parking lot of a Burger King just outside of Yarnell, Pennsylvania.

“Are you serious?”

“You’re an adult male, aren’t you? You think being in the middle of transforming into an undead murder machine exempts you from gasoline siphoning duty?”

“I’m fine!” Luke insists.

“Great. Then pick a card.”

“I can’t move my hands, you idiot.”

“Pick it with your mouth.”

“I hate you.” Luke bites his card of choice and waits with it clasped between his teeth, glowering.

“I want to pick a card,” Daeron says cheerfully.

Aegon refuses. “No. Too young. A baby.”

“Aegon, I’m seventeen!”

“Can’t enlist, can’t do jury duty, can’t buy lottery tickets, can’t sign up to drink gasoline. Okay, everybody show their cards.”

“I got a three,” Jace says, then yanks Luke’s card out of his mouth and reads it. “He got a skip.”

Aemond’s card is a nine, Rio’s a five, Aegon’s a reverse. “That means you lose, Jace,” Aegon announces, admittedly rather gleeful. “You had the lowest number.”

“This is bullshit, I had to siphon last time!”

“Then stop picking bad cards.”

“Jace, I can do it,” Aemond says.

“And get to be the martyr, as usual? No thanks. Give me the damn hose.”

Aegon roots around under the Tahoe seats and produces a long, semitransparent siphoning hose. “All the ones with the little pump attachments were sold out everywhere by the time we thought that might be useful,” he explains to you and Rio.

“That sucks, Jace,” Rio says. “I mean, literally, it sucks.”

“Next time we cross a bridge, I’m pushing you off it.” Jace takes the hose from Aegon, pops open the gas cap of the Dodge Ram 3500 you’ve found, and threads the hose down into the tank. He sucks on the other end and then shoves it into the Tahoe once the gasoline starts flowing. The fuel gauge was hovering just above E. Hopefully you can get at least a few gallons out of the Ram, another fifty or a hundred miles, maybe even two hundred, enough to get you across the Ohio border.

Jace is bent over and vomiting gasoline onto the pavement. Rhaena and Baela sit with Luke as Aemond feels his forehead and peers into his eyes. Daeron accompanies Helaena as she goes to scavenge inside the Burger King, her burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Rio is now holding the siphoning hose and watching the liquid gold pour into the Tahoe, his smile growing with each passing second. Your eyes fall on Aemond and stay there, his careful hands, his brow knitted with concentration.

A whisper from behind you: “We could fake date to make him jealous.”

You whirl to see Aegon, mischievous smirk, neon green plastic sunglasses. “That is a super generous offer and I appreciate the thought you put into it, but no.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dishonest. It’s manipulative. If something is going to happen with Aemond, I want it to be real.”

Aegon sighs. “No, you’re right, it was a dumb idea. I just figured I have a lot of experience.”

“Experience with what?”

“People pretending to love me.” He flashes a strange, sad smile, then follows Daeron and Helaena into the Burger King.

[neptuneiris]

sparks (03/04)

Did i drive you away?

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 8.8k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

there will be an epilogue coming soon!

here it is finally! thank God!

I'm so sorry for the delay beautiful people, it's been heavy weeks where I was writing parts but I couldn't finish them, so my writing time was extended more because I didn't finish, plus I moved, my cat is lost and I've felt very sad about that, besides college, presentations and more, but seriously I love writing, it's my way to escape, so I didn't feel any pressure, don't worry about it :)

I hope you like this new chapter a lot, I'll be waiting for your comments, so enjoy and thank you so much for your patience and support!

In the midst of your relationship with Aemond, things between the two of you are charged with tension.

After the conversation with his grandsire, Aemond's suspicions could not have been more accurate because of the way he behaved. Despite everything he told him and left him thinking about the future of the company, he still tried to talk to you about it.

But you, again, did not let him.

Aemond had to go back to work, just as you also went back to taking care of your own responsibilities such as college.

Aemond's life was still immersed in a whirlwind of responsibilities and commitments. From the moment he woke up, got ready and set foot inside the company, he was already doomed to a busy day.

He had to attend meetings with his key executives, discuss financial analysis, take online conferences, answer emails, calls with partners and clients.

Every moment his desk was filled with reports, financial projections, documents and more that he had to review in detail. Not to mention that the partnership with Alys Rivers is still ongoing.

Still he would make the effort to get home early and spend time with you, every night making an attempt to talk to you about what happened that night, but you wouldn't let him, as you had things to do as well.

If not college, then work, besides having to clean the apartment, do laundry and make food, which Aemond offered to help you with, but the two of you feel completely distant from each other.

Because both he and you know that things between the two of you just aren't right.

They are not since that one night nor does it help you to read every moment in the magazines how Alys Rivers has been seen entering the Targaryen building, where Aemond is always mentioned as well and he assures you that they only had meetings even though you don't even question him about it anymore.

Each of you is immersed in your own thoughts, Aemond feeling helpless, frustrated and sad, his gaze reflected by a deep regret in his heart at not being right with you.

And although he wants to find a way to fix things, you don't want to create any more problems, more than anything else you don't want to interfere between his grandsire and him.

And as the days turn into weeks, communication is no longer paramount, the whole relationship feeling like emotional paralysis, with no clear path of how to reconnect where you hide in your to-do's and Aemond barely has time to spend time with you.

So you find it easier to forget about it and wait for him to do it too. But inside you are still just as hurt, humiliated and sad.

And that little free time he has left for you is simply not enough to try to talk to you, besides you won't let him.

Until that time of the year when Aemond has to travel to attend social events or board meetings, also to meet with his partners around the country to oversee the expansion of the company.

Until he tells you that the first trip will be to Storm's End with his brother Aegon, then to Highgarden and Winterfell with Helaena and at the end to Casterly Rock… with Alys Rivers.

And that you definitely don't like to hear.

"I'm not traveling with her, we're just meeting there for the event."

He lets you know as he starts packing his bags for this two-week trip and you help him out, because even though you're both going through a silent fight, you still care about him and have always helped him with this kind of thing.

But you do feel that discomfort all over you knowing that she is also going on a trip to the same place as him. And Aemond knows it as he watches you out of the corner of his eye, knowing your mannerisms very well.

"Eleanor and Cole will be with me the whole time," he tells you softly, "And I'm already preparing everything with my publicity team for when the press starts publishing pictures of her and me, I don't—

"It's okay," you tell him softly, placing his ties perfectly in the suitcase, "I understand."

He watches you for a few seconds without saying anything, as you continue to put his clothes away the right way, feeling his gaze on you but not watching him back, to which he lets out a long breath.

"I just want to make sure you'll be okay," he tells you just as softly as before, getting up to stand next to you, "I don't want you to be worried all the time. You know I would never do anything to hurt you."

You press your lips together, watching him for a few moments to refocus on the suitcase.

"Yes, I know," you tell him to cut the subject short, saying nothing more.

At this Aemond watches you with some sadness, concern and anguish, but at the same time with love and tenderness, desperately longing for you to share more of your thoughts and emotions with him without pressuring you.

But since he knows you won't, he chooses to hug you.

And he does it carefully, tactfully, knowing that at any moment you may push him away, but to his surprise, you feel your high barriers of defense crumble at that moment, his gesture catching you off guard.

And you with a little hesitation, in the end decide to hug him back, since of course you missed him just as much as he missed you, both of you sinking into a soft and comforting embrace, where finally just for that moment, everything feels right.

There is hope.

Aemond feels his whole body stop tensing the moment he feels your arms wrap around him to hug him back, he lets out a long breath and pulls you tighter against him, hiding his face in your neck.

And you hide your face in his chest too, inhaling his comforting scent, feeling at home again.

"You know you can come with me, right?"

He murmurs in your ear, making you smile softly against his chest.

"I'd love to but I can't. I have to work and attend my classes."

He lets out a resigned sigh.

"Then on your vacation we'll arrange a trip, I promise," he tells you then leaves a soft, tender kiss on your forehead.

You raise your gaze to him as he lowers his so he can watch you.

"Like when you took me to Winterfell?"

"Yes," he smiles softly, "Now where would you like to go?"

"I don't know," you shrug, "Maybe to the Iron Islands?"

"Perfect."

He tells you then leaves a soft kiss on your lips which you reciprocate, both of you pulling each other back into a tight embrace where neither of you want to let go.

And even though Aemond doesn't want to ruin the moment and the fact that possibly this invisible barrier between the two of you will no longer be there, he feels it's the perfect time for you both to talk about the topic you've been putting off that needs to be talked about.

"Y/N, about that ni—

"We need to keep packing."

You interrupt him instantly, gently pulling away from him and turning your gaze back to his suitcases, causing him to look at you sadly for a few moments.

"But—

"I'll go get your shoes."

You cut him off again, to start to move away from him and head towards the huge closet, leaving him with no choice since you definitely don't want to talk about it.

After that moment you both went through, that comforting moment, fortunately you don't feel that emotional distance anymore, since now you both sleep hugging each other, share breakfast and dinner together, also share about how the day went, like before.

Even on some nights there are movie nights, where finally Aemond finds that comfort in your arms, hugging and kissing you at almost every moment.

And you too after a stressful day at work or you are going through a lot of stress because of your classes, you hide from the world in his arms, feeling good and being that exactly what you need.

Until the day comes.

Aemond has to leave.

You drive him to the airport, where his private jet will be waiting for him along with Cole, Eleonor, you understand, his agent as well, and other security people.

The goodbye is hard, even though he's had to leave for business trips before, so neither of you know why. And by the time Aemond's jet flies, that discomfort returns throughout your body and so does that uneasiness.

At all times he lets you know of what he's doing, or at least the important things, like that he's already landed and also that he's already arrived at Aegon and Cassandra's penthouse where he'll be staying.

Before when he went on a trip he also did the same, letting you know where he is and what he will do, mostly to keep you informed, even now he sends you pictures of his breakfasts and also some views from Aegon's house.

You are more concerned that he is well and of course being miles away, it makes you feel safe that he talks to you about what he is doing and what he will do next, like attending those social events which is what he travels mainly for.

Until the day of the important event arrives.

Being at work, about to finish your shift, obviously you are not allowed to have your phone at hand, but when the time comes and now you have to go to class, when you look at your phone, you see severe messages from Aemond and also the notification of a link to a magazine.

This immediately tells you bad news.

And it definitely is when you read the title of what the magazine link is about.

Alys Rivers, co-owner of Riverlands Group seen at Storm's End… click for more.

You click on the link, curious, attentive and with a frown on your face.

The very famous businesswoman, soon to be partner of the important company Targaryen Inc, Alys Rivers has been spotted at Storm's End to attend an event attended by the most important businessmen from all over the country, among them, Aemond Targaryen. She has been spotted an early partnership between them but rumor has it that there may be more than just a partner relationship. We have also been informed that Rivers will be attending the same events as Targaryen in some parts of Westeros where Targaryen Incorporation has distributions of his company, so it is no coincidence.

After reading this, you read Aemond's messages, getting an idea of what they are about.

And you… you don't even know what to think anymore, let alone feel.

It makes sense that he didn't know anything, since at this point after what happened with his grandsire, it doesn't surprise you that he didn't tell him anything because he knew Aemond would do something to prevent it.

And how convenient that also Alys didn't report anything about her presence at all the other events since it was only known that she would travel to Casterly Rock.

Later that day you see how Alys does indeed show up at the Storm's End event and Aemond quickly sends you a picture of everything, of him with Aegon, Cole and Eleonor, wanting to make you feel at peace and safe.

Then later he sends you picture of him arriving to his hotel room, he even sends you a voice message telling you about everything that happened at the event, he tells you that Alys talked to him, that again she tried to cross physical boundaries but he wouldn't let her.

Also that they both had to take pictures together, but nothing else.

And the next morning there are a lot of videos and photos of the event where he is with his brother, his partner Borros Baratheon and more businessmen.

There are also the photos of him with Alys, even videos where the two of them talk and she again touches him on the shoulder and arm like that, smiling flirtatiously at him all the time, but Aemond turns away from her to go to some men.

It's as if she knows that at that moment there are many cameras around and they are recording, so you get the impression that she is doing it on purpose.

But all you can do is really nothing since Aemond is the one telling you everything to make you feel calm, so you just continue with your daily routine, focusing on work and your classes.

Although of course unconsciously your mind is on Aemond and his trip, also on her.

Fortunately what comes next is more… relaxing.

The next event is in Highgarden, where once Aemond lands, he sends you a picture of him with Helaena, where he tells you that she sends you greetings, both smiling at the camera, making you feel a comforting warmth all over your chest as you see the picture, smiling softly.

During the whole trip in Highgarden there is nowhere where Aemond is not with Hel, even in the event when he is around Rivers, Hel is always with them.

The same happens in Winterfell, as Hel must also attend as she is the one who made the partnership with the Starks possible.

Aemond sends you picture of her very comfortable on one of the jet couches, also of the two of them having dinner and watching a movie, even at the hotel they both ask for a room for the two of them with two beds.

At the event also the two of them are together, there is even a very professional photo of the two of them with their partner, Cregan Stark, where he with Hel give a welcome speech to all the guests and then Aemond with him make known the innovations in their companies thanks to the partnership.

It's simply all work, as it should be. You even see Rivers in some photos and videos, but compared to Storm's End, she doesn't look very pleased lately.

Until the moment comes when Hel will no longer be in Aemond's company. And from then on, you can't help but feel uneasy.

And apparently Aemond also feels the same restlessness as you do despite the miles of distance that separate you.

He sends you pictures of absolutely everything, from the moment he starts his day until it ends. He also tells you what he's going to do, even if it's taking a shower, yet he tells you to let you know that's why he won't write you back quickly.

He even sends you video of what he will eat, mostly to let you know that there is no one with him in the room if that is your concern, also at night, telling you that he will go to sleep.

Honestly, Aemond has never done this before on a trip and even though you didn't ask him to, as if wanting to see where he is and what exactly he is doing, wanting to check on him at all times, Aemond does it for your peace of mind.

And without wanting to, you already find yourself waiting for him to send you picture or video of what he will do next, feeling paranoid and to some extent a controller.

You know that this is wrong, that it is not necessary, that neither of you have ever acted this way before and that it is as if you want to know Aemond's movements every second in an unnecessary and… toxic way.

And it's not right, you know it's not.

But Aemond feels that need and so do you, even if you don't want it, you feel that need to know that Rivers is not taking advantage of your absence and worse…. That he is giving in to it by making the partnership possible.

But Aemond would never hurt you, he has told you that and you know that, but you also know as well as he does that he has the eyes of almost everyone on him and will have problems with his grandsire by the time he returns because of Rivers' disconformity.

So even in the event, Aemond feels more that need to let you know that she's not around Rivers, that he's not doing anything wrong or giving her and him anything to talk about.

And the worst part is that you are there, attentive, waiting and watching it all.

Even after the event is over, Aemond tells you that he's going back to his hotel room, telling you that he's going to take a shower. Then he sends you a picture of him brushing his teeth and then another one of him in bed and at an angle so that you can see that he is all alone.

And only at that moment, for two full weeks, just this very night you feel completely calm and at peace, knowing that he is coming back tomorrow and will be by your side again.

And you don't understand.

You just don't understand what happened to both of you.

You don't understand how you went from having the most beautiful and healthy relationship ever, to this, where both you and he acted in a toxic and completely unnecessary way.

And when you least expect it, tears begin to flow from your eyes as you stare at the dark ceiling of the room, alone in the huge bed, with frustration and sadness completely invading you and loneliness settling in your heart.

You are honestly afraid.

In the midst of your storm of emotions, you fear that the beautiful and healthy connection with your boyfriend will soon be gone. You're afraid that the relationship will become toxic.

You just don't want to lose the intimacy and complicity you both have to be replaced to this, the insecurities and these needs to look good and want to prove that neither of you, especially him, is failing in the relationship.

And with everything that's going on, the company, his grandsire, Rivers, you have no idea how to fix it.

Aemond's arms wrap around your body tightly, clinging completely to your figure, holding you tight against him as he hides his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling of your soft scent that drives him absolutely crazy.

And you reciprocate his embrace in kind by slipping your arms around his neck, hiding your face between his chest and neck, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek to cling to him again.

"I missed you," he murmurs lovingly and almost melancholy in your ear.

You hug him tighter, lovingly, as you place a small smile on your lips.

"Me too, babe."

He too leaves replete kisses on your cheek, tucking you back into his body, not wanting to let you go, while to you all his scent and the feeling of being in his arms is more than gratifying, being just what you needed.

He strokes your hair as he inhales deeply, not being able to get enough of it. And neither of you say anything else, as actions speak for themselves and what two need, is the touch of each other.

It was two weeks but for both you and him it felt like months.

You both look at each other and he leaves a soft kiss on your lips which you reciprocate as you both have a small smile on your lips. Then you both separate and start to head towards the car once Cole and the other men help Aemond to put his suitcases in the trunk.

All the way he keeps holding your hand, while you drive to the apartment and he talks to you about everything that happened on the trip.

"Our trip to the Iron Islands will now be easier," he tells you proudly and visibly excited.

You are glad to hear that the companies are doing well and that he has had friendly meetings with his partners, in fact you tell him so, as he smiles softly throughout and thanks you.

He also gives you the news that he will have a meeting with Rodrik Greyjoy very soon that involves talking about plans for an early partnership between Pike and Targaryen Inc.

You hum in agreement, smiling softly.

"I could tell," you look at him for a second to refocus on the road, "I'm sure your conversation with him will go well. But you want to go on a trip there too?"

"Sure," he tells you willingly, holding your hand against his lips, "They say it's a beautiful place. I've seen pictures too," he says then leaves a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

Once you both get home, you help him with his suitcases and unpacking, while now you tell him about your days at work, college and also here.

Fortunately for him and you, it's Friday, so you both stay home and rest. He tells you that he won't be going to work Saturday and Sunday, so you have the whole weekend for the two of you.

You still have to work Sunday afternoon but you don't mind, it still won't be long, so you enjoy and take advantage of these free moments with your boyfriend.

Later that same night you both resume your nights of intimacy, which is something Aemond had longed for since you both had that fight after the event, leaving after traveling not too soon after that was just awful for him.

First you both take a little nap where nothing feels better than sleeping in each other's arms again, both of you without being an inch apart from each other in the huge bed.

Then when you wake up you go together to the supermarket to do the week's shopping and at the end you stay in the living room watching movies.

And it was also something you craved.

Obviously you're not as insatiable as he is, as Aemond really can't get enough of you when it comes to sex and really takes all his time with you. This time is no exception.

But once that glorious weekend ends and a new week begins, you both resume your routines from before and in which he simply has no time for you.

Again Aemond tries to do everything in his power to come home early and spend more time with you, which is something you consider and are grateful for his effort, as you knew that sooner or later he would have to go back to his old busy routine.

Not being on good terms with his grandsire, having to attend meetings and phone calls from his partners, making and reviewing reports, delaying as much as he can the partnership with Rivers just so he doesn't have to see her, it's too much.

And little by little, although he doesn't want to, he returns to his exhaustive routine of before and in which unfortunately also affects you for seeing him only at night at a very late hour.

Although he still does everything he can to make sure that work doesn't take up more of his time than it should.

You continue as normal, going to work and attending your classes, but you find it again sad and annoying that you are again having less time with Aemond.

As well as what you didn't want to happen.

And of course Aemond would have to explain himself, having that need like on the trip so you wouldn't think other things, telling you all the time, either by message or in person, that nothing happened, they just talked about work and nothing else.

Sooner or later Alys Rivers would reach her breaking point, so if Aemond wasn't looking for her, then she would be looking for him.

So you had to go back to reading magazine articles online where they talk about how they've seen her in the Targaryen building and so on.

That's how things were going on for a few weeks, almost for a month, until again and unexpectedly, Aemond has to travel again.

Aemond is technically not yet the head of Targaryen Inc, his father is, but due to his health, he must attend for him.

Again to Casterly Rock to an important event and also to a conference where Aemond will meet with the board of directors and his partner Jason Lannister.

Other businessmen will also attend as it is a general event and heads of major companies all over the country are in attendance.

The news of having to travel again catches Aemond and you off guard, explaining that the board meetings normally take place in November, but that they are earlier this year.

So as soon as he gets the news, he starts preparing everything for his trip, even preparing work papers and other preparations for his presentation at the conference, while you again help him and make sure he misses nothing.

He can't miss his meeting with the board of directors, it is paramount and a really big commitment, so you understand but you are disappointed all the same.

Honestly you are disappointed that you have to be separated from your boyfriend again, as you were not expecting to have to stay home alone for a week again.

The event lasts two days and Aemond will have to travel there from before to ensure his presence and avoid any unforeseen events as it is an important event.

Until again when you least expect it, the day comes for Aemond to leave.

He paces back and forth, making sure nothing is missing, while you help him finish packing one of his two suitcases, while he talks on the phone to Criston and then to Eleonor to continue making sure he has the right information about what time he has to board his private jet.

You then head to the kitchen and make a quick breakfast for him and yourself, you also make him a cup of coffee and ask him to stop for a few moments to get some food in his stomach, to which he does while still busy on his phone.

"Which hotel?"

You hear him ask Eleonor as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Ah, yes, that's fine. But… about the documents, did I bring the folder with me?"

You at all times stand still, eating your breakfast and listening to what he says to Eleonor back.

"Okay, I'll go check," he says and quickly heads back to his office, still holding his phone to his ear.

You continue to stand still, as you watch him disappear down the hallway and let out a breath, not really being able to do anything since you know him too well and he always gets paranoid when he has to travel, making sure to get everything ready one last time.

A few minutes pass and finally Aemond stands still in the kitchen to finish his breakfast, though when he's done he heads to the bedroom to check his suitcases one last time and start placing them in the hallway for when Cole arrives and he has to take them down to put them in the car.

He paces back and forth, wasting no time, watching his wristwatch every second, counting down the time for when Cole arrives and he has to leave.

You meanwhile take his briefcase and place it on the island with you, waiting for the moment when he has to leave.

When they start calling him.

You look at the screen and see that it's about his grandsire, causing an unpleasant feeling all over your body as you remember the way he treated you last time, but you quickly let Aemond know.

"Your grandsire is calling you!"

Aemond comes out into the hallway with one of his suitcases.

"Please pick up, love."

You nod and accept the call, put it out loud and resume your breakfast.

"Aemond?"

"Yeah? What's wrong?" he exclaims from where he stands.

"How's it going, son? Are you ready?"

"Yes," he replies with a little force in his voice, securing his suitcase one last time, "Cole should be here any minute."

"You got all the conference details?"

"Yes, Eleonor mailed me everything," he says as he walks over to the island and pulls the phone towards him to take a sip of what's left of his coffee cup.

"Very well. Then you'll meet Alys and her uncle at the airport, I've offered them to travel with you, after all the three of you are going to the same place."

You immediately stop chewing, as well as your whole body stops moving, standing completely still and with tension all over your shoulders.

Aemond also immediately watches you, instantly realizing your reaction, but you look away from him trying to appear indifferent and with the lump in your throat you go back to chewing, bringing your cup to your lips.

You feel your heart start to beat wildly, feeling instantly how your tranquility disappears and suddenly you feel overwhelmed by all the mixture of emotions that invade you.

Meanwhile Aemond frowns and with a bewildered and also annoyed look, quickly turns back to his grandfather.

"What?" he snaps at him.

Otto Hightower lets out a long breath on the other end of the line.

"Aemond—

"I didn't even know she was going to the event too and why are you telling me this now?" he inquires her completely serious, in an annoyed and deadly tone.

"Because I knew you would do anything to avoid it and I wasn't going to allow it. We're so close to signing the contracts and I knew this was going to please Alys, so she'll see you at the airport and I expect… that you'll give her a good treat and please her for the entire trip."

A shiver of jealousy, insecurity and sadness runs through you, as you bite the inside of your cheek and try to act nonchalant about it all, but you know you're not good at hiding your true emotions and Aemond sees that, not liking his grandfather's words at all.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?"

He inquires him just as serious and annoyed as before and Otto sighs.

"I'm not having this conversation with you again, Aemond. Grow up and do what you're told if you want your company to survive."

"Maturity doesn't mean I have to do everything you say!" he exclaims angrily and exasperatedly at him.

"For the love of the Seven, it's only a flight, stop acting like a fucking little child!"

Aemond sighs and runs a hand over his face, wearily.

"I can't believe you're doing this to me."

"Everything is already decided. You're going to have to deal with it, whether you like it or not, I honestly don't care. And I hope..." he begins to say in a threatening tone, "That by the time you get back, Rivers doesn't cause a scene for me again because of your lack of commitment and interest."

"That's your problem and hers, not mine. When I get back I want to have a serious conversation with you."

And finally Aemond hangs up annoyed with his visibly frustrated face, where in comparison to him, you hide your emotions, not wanting to frustrate him more with your behavior upon hearing this new travel plan, acting disinterested.

So you try to make yourself really look carefree by taking your dirty plate and cup to the dishwasher, starting to wash them, not observing Aemond at any moment, fearing that he will notice your true state.

While you at all times bite the inside of your cheek, resist the urge to cry and insecurity as well as a host of other frustrating emotions completely invade your body.

And Aemond immediately notices, because he knows you too well.

So feeling the weight of the situation, he stands up with an almost tired face and walks towards you, instantly slipping an arm around your waist to turn you towards him and leave a soft kiss on your forehead.

Something inside you snaps as you hear this.

"I know what you must be thinking, but you have nothing to worry about."

He says softly, hugging you tightly and lovingly, holding you close against his body.

"The only one I care about is you and I promise I will stay in touch with you for as long as I can."

And a realization comes over you, holding you completely still against him.

"No matter how busy I am, I will always find time to call or text you, just like last time," he promises you, wanting to comfort you, "I will do everything I can to keep you calm while I'm away."

You feel that realization hit you all at once again and with your gaze gone and your lips parted you just blink, because suddenly you don't have the strength anymore, for anything.

And because of your lack of response and movements, Aemond separates his head from your shoulder to watch you, still hugging you tightly and not wanting to let you go until he is sure you will be okay, watching you with concern.

"Hey, did you hear me? You will always be my priority, no matter where I am."

"Tell me you understand, please love," he pleads with slight anguish, completely attentive to you, holding your face with both hands gently in a desperate action.

He assures you firmly, wanting to make you understand and wanting you to say something back, anything. But you just watch him for a second, then stare at a spot in the kitchen and say nothing, your face without much expression.

With a lump in your throat, because you really can't speak, you feel like a fool even though it's part of all the emotions you're feeling at the moment, unable to help it.

"Good," he murmurs confidently, feeling a little calmer and leaves a soft kiss on your cheek, to pull away and continue to prepare everything for when he has to leave.

So the only thing you can do, is that nod in his direction, without uttering a word. And apparently, that's good enough for him.

Aemond continues to make sure he has everything ready in his suitcases and that nothing is missing, leaving them by the doorway.

While you watch him silently, still with all that overwhelming mix of emotions invading your mind. Again you feel your strength drain away and anxiety takes over, with an ache beginning to spread throughout your chest.

While he in comparison to you is calm, unconcerned, having no idea of everything that is going through your mind at that moment, making you feel bad to be thinking this now.

How cruel am I going to be?

You wonder with sadness, as you bite the inside of your cheek and try to hold back the tears that want to come out of your eyes. You don't want him to notice your agitation, at least not yet, but it's getting harder and harder to control it.

You love him.

You love him deeply.

You know that perfectly well. There is no doubt about it. And you know he loves you too.

But it all comes to your mind hitting you like a violent wave, drowning you, the magazines, his work, the association with Riverlands, the event, his grandfather, the press, his travels and Alys Rivers.

You watch as he ready waits for Cole with his phone in hand at the entrance, typing quickly, assuming he must be texting him, with the suitcases at his side and his face of concentration.

"Love, could you hand me a folder I left on my desk, please? It's black."

He asks you while at the kitchen island he hurriedly checks his briefcase, as you bite your lips and swallow hard.

"Sure," you say without much emotion and head for his office.

When you return you hand him the folder and he thanks you to arrange everything perfectly back into his briefcase.

"Cole won't be long, we're already late," he speaks to you also in a hurry, "If you need anything you know you can call me. But you can also call my mom if you need someone to come over, she's going to Oldtown for another two months," he lets you know, "Okay?" he watches you for a moment and you force a small smile, nodding in his direction, "Okay," he mumbles.

And he disappears back into the room, mumbling that he hasn't taken his jacket, while you watch him, standing still again with your hard face, wondering:

How cruel am I going to be?

Then Aemond stands still again at the entrance to the apartment, answering a call from Cole.

"Have you arrived yet?" he pauses slightly, "Fifteenth floor, C100. All right," he ends the call and looks a little more paranoid, turning to his suitcases, "Almost leaving, love."

You don't say anything back, you just watch him and feel that lump in your throat again, wanting to talk to him but the words get stuck, feeling more of your anxiety, agitation, sadness and anguish, with tears in the corners of your eyes, not being able to control it anymore.

How cruel am I going to be?

It repeats constantly in your mind until the tears fall down your cheeks and that pain in your chest gets stronger, watching it without being able to contain your emotions anymore.

"I can't do this anymore," you say in a shaky voice, getting his attention.

Aemond looks away from his phone and watches you, where your state slowly takes him by surprise and he watches you completely attentively, a little confused, not understanding, starting to worry.

"Love—

"I know it's not your fault," you make it clear to him, starting to cry loudly, shaking your head, "But I can't anymore."

Aemond surprised, quickly turns to you, trying to speak.

"Y/N—

"The first time you went to Casterly Rock with her, I wasn't at peace. I was scared and not for you, but for her," you confess to him, sad, "And you sending me pictures and videos of where you were and what you were doing, made me feel like we didn't trust each other."

"Y/N, I only did it so you would be calm and safe while I was away," he tells you in a soft, confused voice.

"You don't understand," you insist, "That made me feel like a controller, like you think I need to be constantly watching everything you do, and when had that ever happened on your previous trips?" you inquire, "It hadn't been like that since she—

You stop, not wanting to say more, as you sniffle and wipe your tears with your fingers, lowering your gaze, sorrowful, sad and disconsolate.

Instantly Aemond stops in front of you, trying again to hold your face in his hands, completely worried.

But before you can say anything, the doorbell rings at that moment and you both know who it is, Cole. But despite this, he continues to be attentive to you.

"My love, I understand," he says softly, wanting to comfort you, "I understand that you don't trust her, I understand your reasons, but—

"It's not just her, it's also what happened at that event, the press wanting you and her together, the magazines, your grandfather, and I-I…" you sniffle your nose, "I don't want our relationship to become a toxic one."

At that moment Aemond looks at you completely unsure, his heart beginning to pound, his gaze completely intent and anxious.

"What? Y/N, what are you saying?"

How cruel am I going to be?

"I can't anymore, Aemond," you tell him in your completely broken voice.

He watches you silently, his lips parted, fully inspecting your expression, beginning to feel his pulse quicken a little too much, understanding perfectly what you are implying.

When again you ring the doorbell, which catches your attention amidst your trail of tears but not him, he remains attentive to you, not caring, beginning to feel a huge void in his chest, incredulous, advancing towards you in a needy manner.

"Y/N, don't do this."

"I don't have a choice," you tell him in pain and he again tries to take you in his arms.

"But—

There's a knock on the door, interrupting him, as he feels a painful lump form in his throat and he looks at you in complete shock, disbelief and hurt.

"Listen, can we talk about this when I get back, please?" he asks pleadingly, holding you by the waist firmly, not wanting to let you go, "Just…" he shakes his head anguish, "Wait for me, okay? And when I get back, we'll talk about it."

You shake your head, pointing your gaze at the door for a second.

"You must leave now."

And Aemond becomes more concerned about this, seeing the determination and defeat in your whole look of sadness, giving this up now and not intending to wait for him, beginning to feel his eye begin to burn and despair along with anguish invade him more.

"Sir? Are you there?"

You hear Cole ask from the other side of the door, but Aemond pays him no attention, wanting to fix this, desperately.

"Yell at me," he implores you, "Get angry, reproach me, anything you want, anything but this, please, I beg you."

You close your eyes, swallowing hard.

"Sir? I'm sorry but we must leave now," Cole again speaks from the other side of the door, "Your flight departs in less than an hour."

And al Cole again knocks on the door in desperation, clearly because he has to do his job and you're taking advantage of it.

You open your eyes and both of you stare at each other without saying anything, where you just wait until he has to leave, your face completely devastated.

But he barely processes what's happening, his eye reddening and his heart rate racing, waiting for you to understand and say something back to him.

"Go now," you mutter sadly to him.

"No, I'm not leaving until I fix this," he tells you desperately, on the verge of losing patience, "Just…please don't do this, not now. I-I don't… I don't want to lose you."

"Your grandfather will be upset with you."

"I don't fucking care about my grandfather, Y/N! Right now I don't care about anything, just this, us!"

Cole again knocks on the door, insistent.

"Just fucking wait!"

He yells at Cole desperate, upset, distressed, his emotions running high, not being able to control himself anymore and you decide that enough is enough, because Aemond won't leave, then it's best that you leave.

"I'll be leaving too."

You know that this trip is very important to him and you still love him too much not to worry about his work.

And the last thing you want is for you to be the reason for not being on time, which could lead to him not doing well at his event and conference with the board and his partner.

You murmur to him with a broken heart and turn around, walking towards the room, instantly being followed by him.

"No, Y/N, please, just wait," he tells you more pleadingly than before, "I promise you this whole thing with Rivers will be over soon, I promise!" he insists, "Or not, I just won't make any association with her, I can find another way for the company, I don't care what my grandfather says or—

"You can't do that and you know it. The company depends on hers."

"But you can't do this! Not now, please!" he exclaims in frustration, starting to cry.

And just as you're about to go into the closet to grab your clothes, he stops you, turning you to him to hold you and make you look at him, make you see how devastated he is, definitely not expecting any of this at all, feeling completely helpless and powerless in the face of the situation.

"Please Y/N, please," he says to you with a broken voice, as he puts his forehead together with yours for a moment, starting to tremble and feel an unpleasant sensation all over his stomach.

And seeing him like this completely destroys you.

You've never seen him like this before, you know you're breaking his heart and more by breaking up with him now, like this, like you're taking advantage of the fact that he has to leave to get on a plane.

How cruel am I being?

And even though you didn't want to do it, at least not now as he is asking you to, you know this is necessary.

Because you know that if he gets on his jet with her and you and he are still together, you will not be calm at all, you will over think things, things that are not.

If the partnership with Rivers passes and you and Aemond are still together, you will feel the same insecurity as always because the two of them will be partners and will have to keep seeing each other for the report of both companies coming together.

You will feel controlling, he will have this need to want to be good to you in an unnecessary way and you will just feel bad about yourself. And it won't end there.

And you'll have to keep putting up with the press, the boundaries Rivers oversteps, what Otto asks Aemond to do with her and the necessary justifications from him to you.

"I'm so sorry," you tell him with tears streaming down your cheeks and your face completely broken.

And Aemond shakes his head in frustration, in hopelessness, closing his eyes tightly, not believing it, not accepting it.

"Wait until I come back so we can talk about it and work it out. Don't end things like this, please," he tells you in a broken voice, starting to cry, "I-I love you."

"I love you too," you tell him the same way he does.

"And if you love me then why are you leaving me?" he asks you in a painful voice, not understanding.

Your whole face transforms into anguish.

"Aemond—

"Please don't leave me," he begs you once more.

Silence envelops you, where you both cry, you completely broken and he in complete despair, in the room where you both have shared so many special moments throughout your relationship, in the apartment where you began to form a little life together.

The air is charged with so much tension and nostalgia, where you both suffer from an intense mix of emotions, where you both suffer equally, as everything feels unreal, so suddenly and without time to react.

And Aemond tries to find any hope of being able to hold on, to get you back. But in the depths of his broken heart, he feels and knows that he has lost the battle.

And you also feel and know that this has been necessary, as broken as it has made you feel and in which you know, you are probably not going to fully recover by doing this.

The last thing you see of Aemond is how with his completely devastated look he watches silently as you pack some of your clothes in a bag to leave, still not accepting it, completely broken inside and imploring you with his gaze not to do this.

But you knew that if you didn't leave, he wouldn't leave and it's important that he catch his flight to Casterly Rock.

So without even saying hello or giving Cole a glance, you leave the apartment quickly with tears streaming down your cheeks, walking away from there and him.

You arrive at Floris' house in search of temporary lodging where she opens the door and you burst into tears in her arms, without even being able to talk to her about what happened when you cried uncontrollably.

And after a few hours, the next thing you know from Eleonor, simply because you needed to know for the last time, is that Aemond managed to get on his jet at the estimated time to land promptly at Casterly Rock.

She tells you that it was difficult but that they managed to convince him. And that's the last you hear from him.

Despite your determination to move on, every day at all times you can't help but feel a deep sadness and a sense of loss that won't leave you alone.

Letting go of your relationship with Aemond is difficult, you just can't. And rightly so if it's only been weeks, because leaving him behind, feels like giving up a very important part of your life.

You tried to find comfort in your daily routine, classes and work, but everything reminded you of him, all the time you were thinking about him and when you least expected it, you were already crying again, without being able to help it.

At night it is more difficult, you feel completely alone, you cry until you fall asleep, you questioned what you had done and in the middle of everything, you miss him deeply.

Days after Floris accepts you in his house, you immediately request a room in your university's residence halls and fortunately there is one available near your Marketing department.

You asked Floris to please accompany you to the apartment to get the rest of your things, which she did not hesitate to do in order to support you and also help you, taking advantage of the fact that Aemond was still away.

You did everything as fast as possible, not wanting to remember and think too much, you just wanted to get out of there with your things, avoiding to feel and let all the memories consume you, because you couldn't stand it.

A few tears escaped you, but as soon as it happened, the two of you left the apartment, locking it and slipping the key under the door, so as not to return it to him in person.

After a while, exactly after the week in which Aemond would already be back in King's Landing, he started looking for you through messages and calls, begging you to please see each other and talk.

Feeling even more broken, you decided to block him from everywhere, which caused him to come looking for you at work, hoping to talk to you.

But as soon as you recognized his car parking on the street, you quickly hid in the small back rooms, begging Sophie to cover for you.

You later found out that Aemond had been texting your mutual friends, asking how he could find you, where you lived now, wanting to sort things out, unwilling to let the two of you end up like you did.

Hel messaged you, so did Daeron, even Baela, but you decided it was best not to respond, because if you did, you would agree to talk to Aemond. And it broke your heart not to reply to any of them, especially Hel, but you know yourself too well and you did it for your own good.

But you never let him find you, because you knew you'd go back to him the minute you both sat down to talk and that's not what you want.

Not with his grandfather and Rivers still behind him.

Until one day Aemond stopped.

He stopped trying to find you and stopped asking your friends where you might be, you also stopped reading about him in magazines and social media. You read about his family, but nothing about him.

And so it went for a while, for about two months, where you to this day do not heal and you keep thinking about him, finding it strange this new life without him.

When one morning, a magazine article and almost all the social media announce a news that makes you understand now a little more the disappearance of Aemond not only from your life, but also from the world, surprising you.

You read the news in complete disbelief, thinking of Alicent, Hel, Daeron, Rhaenyra, everyone, but most of all him.

You know what this means, the note itself says so, but even though you knew it was only a matter of time, as Aemond told you, you are still surprised to see this, surprised that it has already happened.

Suddenly you feel a need and urge to text or call him, but you know it's not a good idea, yet the urge is there, thinking about how he must be feeling and all that he and his family must be going through.

Fortunately you don't do anything, but this leaves you thinking.

After almost everyone reads this news, the whole Targaryen family is kept in hiding, there is no sighting of them, no statements and absolutely nothing, which is what the press wants.

That's what happens for a month, until finally sightings of Otto and Alicent Hightower are reported. Also of Aegon with Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Until you simply decide not to be aware of it anymore, having to continue your life without him, since these are matters that don't concern you, at least not anymore.

So a few weeks later, Floris' birthday arrives, who invites his closest friends to a pub to celebrate in a small group, wanting to have a good time, relax and nothing more, to which you agree to go.

What you definitely didn't expect, was to meet your ex, Aemond Targaryen after all that happened and after almost five months.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @n4forlife @iamavailablesstuff @ttkttt @elliaze @trshngyn @tsujifreya @imsoshygirl @watercolorskyy @kckt88 @zenka69 @yentroucnagol @crispmarshmallow @bellastwd @queenofshinigamis @strangersunghoon @happinessinthebeing @iloveallmyboys

taglist part 3:

@hoziersfairy @bananaminion678 @targaryenmoony @skzenhalove

[kingsmoot]

Something I haven't seen brought up much with the ramsay vs manderly horn wood question is about Donella Hornwoods own claim to those lands. She's not a Hornwoods by blood, but by marriage, so she would only have widow's use rights (which I believe are the rights to live there and be supported). Hornwood would need to pass to the next blood claimant or revert to the crown to dispense with if one can't be found. This is why I'm especially confused as to how she can name Ramsay inheritor in a will to lands she doesn't own. (Whereas Catelyn clearly doesn't have the power to will winterfell to Arya over Jon despite being in the same position as the widowed Dowager Queen/Lady)

Instead, it's the manderlys and the bolton at odds over who owns that land, both through Donella, even though she herself doesn't seem to have actual inheritance rights to it. (As opposed to Sansa Stark, who is a blood claimant so Tyrion could legally rule winterfell through her) In any case I think the real crux of the issue, like with the forced marriage, is bigger army diplomacy. Bran mentions a bastard, but unless said bastard can raise an army or get the millitary support of a larger faction, those lands are going to the bolton or the manderlys.

I imagine there isn't a blood relative with any real millitary backing or roose and wyman wouldn't be going through all this trouble for someone who technically only has widow's use rights.

Ultimately, because armies are honestly the biggest decider of succession law in westeros (Aegon II acknowledged as king over Rhaenrya I in histories because he won the war, Maegor over Aegon the uncrowned because he won the war, even the Tyrell's claim to highgarden being a bit dodgy in terms of blood relations but backed up by the targaryen millitary power of the time etc), whether or not Donellas's marriage and contract are going to be considered valid according to history will depend on who is in power. Should the boltons be toppled, I think the new lord/lady/king/queen of the north will suddenly be hearing a lot of arguments about the legality of vows forced at sword point that no one dares take to roose bolton now.

hello anon, thank you for your thoughtful message!! the hornwood marriage and its fallout is one of my favorite subplots of the series so i'm always thrilled to talk about it.

while i agree with your final conclusion that armies are the biggest decider of succession law in westeros (i talked about this here re: lord manderly and his squatting on hornwood after donella's death), i think you're underselling donella's legal claim to hornwood as lord hornwood's widow as they apply to her lord husband.

look at lysa tully, jon arryn's widow:

agot, chapter 34, catelyn vi

you could say that lysa only has a claim to the vale because she has the men to back it. lady hornwood is alone. her son and her husband were killed, and the majority if not all of her household guard were killed as well. she is the last remnant of house hornwood.

the degree to which wives who marry into greathouses are integrated into that breathouse is variable. cat, as a notable example, calls herself a stark as often as she calls herself a tully. tyrion (and others i think) calls her a shewolf. she considers herself an outsider, a riverlander in the north, but as the series progresses and especially after ned's death she speaks about herself in her private thoughts and aloud in public as a stark of winterfell. cersei, on the other hand, would drop dead before she called herself a baratheon. and lysa falls moreso in the middle, where she is called lysa tully and after the death of her husband is often reminded of/aligned with her familial connections to house tully, but absolutely considers herself Of The Vale, even though she's spent about fourteen years in king's landing with jon serving as robert's hand. (donella, for as long as we know her, is always and by everyone referred to as lady hornwood, never donella manderly).

so one could argue that lysa tully is pointedly not an arryn, and is only holding the vale because her son is a blood claimant AND she has tully and arryn forces to support her own claim in the meantime.

but suitors are beating down lysa's door because they want the vale. and the vale would pass to them as the new head of the vale and defacto head of house arryn. i was going to use ramsay as an example but his bastard status makes this more complicated so let's pick a legitimate second son. why can't i think of anyone.

actually, let's say tyrion, since you also mentioned sansa's blood rights to winterfell.

tyrion is heir by blood to casterly rock, since jaime is a knight of the kingsguard and thus unable to inherit. let's axe that because it also makes things more complicated. jaime leaves the kingsguard as tywin wants him to do and he inherits casterly rock and becomes warden of the west. this leaves tyrion a second son with no blood claim to casterly rock (similar to the blackfish, who left house tully to go with lysa to the vale and serve house arryn. i didn't use him as an example because lysa's husband also being a tully would muddy the waters of an example that is already stretched pretty thin). so tyrion marries lysa tully. tyrion is now lord of the vale, stepfather to lord robert aryn. tyrion's first order of business would be siring a son on his new wife so that lord baby lannister-tully would become the new heir to the vale, trumping robert arryn's claim. all of this would come from lysa tully's claim to the vale, as the widow of jon arryn.

importantly, donella hornwood is considered an elligible marriage prospect by the men at winterfell, even if she is too old to have children.

Midday came and went. Maester Luwin sent Poxy Tym down to the kitchens, and they dined in the solar on cheese, capons, and brown oatbread. While tearing apart a bird with fat fingers, Lord Wyman made polite inquiry after Lady Hornwood, who was a cousin of his. “She was born a Manderly, you know. Perhaps, when her grief has run its course, she would like to be a Manderly again, eh?” He took a bite from a wing, and smiled broadly. “As it happens, I am a widower these past eight years. Past time I took another wife, don’t you agree, my lords? A man does get lonely.” Tossing the bones aside, he reached for a leg. “Or if the lady fancies a younger lad, well, my son Wendel is unwed as well. He is off south guarding Lady Catelyn, but no doubt he will wish to take a bride on his return. A valiant boy, and jolly. Just the man to teach her to laugh again, eh?” He wiped a bit of grease off his chin with the sleeve of his tunic.

acok, chapter 16, bran ii

here we see lord manderly scheming to get the hornwood lands by marriage, for either himself or his son

Bran wanted to give the lady a hundred men to defend her rights, but Ser Rodrik only said, “He may look, but should he do more I promise you there will be dire retribution. You will be safe enough, my lady … though perhaps in time, when your grief is passed, you may find it prudent to wed again.”

“I am past my childbearing years, what beauty I had long fled,” she replied with a tired half smile, “yet men come sniffing after me as they never did when I was a maid.”

“You do not look favorably on these suitors?” asked Luwin.

“I shall wed again if His Grace commands it,” Lady Hornwood replied, “but Mors Crowfood is a drunken brute, and older than my father. As for my noble cousin of Manderly, my lord’s bed is not large enough to hold one of his majesty, and I am surely too small and frail to lie beneath him.”

Bran knew that men slept on top of women when they shared a bed. Sleeping under Lord Manderly would be like sleeping under a fallen horse, he imagined. Ser Rodrik gave the widow a sympathetic nod. “You will have other suitors, my lady. We shall try and find you a prospect more to your taste.”

“Perhaps you need not look very far, ser.” After she had taken her leave, Maester Luwin smiled. “Ser Rodrik, I do believe my lady fancies you.” Ser Rodrik cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable.

acok, chapter 26, bran ii

and here we see donella both acknowledging her many suitors and flirting with ser rodrik (cute!!!)

immediately after this though we get a more pragmatic breakdown of why donella's dead husband and son cause issues politically:

“She was very sad,” said Bran.

Ser Rodrik nodded. “Sad and gentle, and not at all uncomely for a woman of her years, for all her modesty. Yet a danger to the peace of your brother’s realm nonetheless.”

“Her?” Bran said, astonished. Maester Luwin answered. “With no direct heir, there are sure to be many claimants contending for the Hornwood lands. The Tallharts, Flints, and Karstarks all have ties to House Hornwood through the female line, and the Glovers are fostering Lord Harys’s bastard at Deepwood Motte. The Dreadfort has no claim that I know, but the lands adjoin, and Roose Bolton is not one to overlook such a chance.”

Ser Rodrik tugged at his whiskers. “In such cases, her liege lord must find her a suitable match.”

“Why can’t you marry her?” Bran asked. “You said she was comely, and Beth would have a mother.” The old knight put a hand on Bran’s arm. “A kindly thought, my prince, but I am only a knight, and besides too old. I might hold her lands for a few years, but as soon as I died Lady Hornwood would find herself back in the same mire, and Beth’s prospects might be perilous as well.”

“Then let Lord Hornwood’s bastard be the heir,” Bran said, thinking of his half brother Jon. Ser Rodrik said, “That would please the Glovers, and perhaps Lord Hornwood’s shade as well, but I do not think Lady Hornwood would love us. The boy is not of her blood.”

“Still,” said Maester Luwin, “it must be considered. Lady Donella is past her fertile years, as she said herself. If not the bastard, who?”

“May I be excused?” Bran could hear the squires at their swordplay in the yard below, the ring of steel on steel.

acok, chapter 26, bran ii

so we're right back to the point where you and i totally agree. the only thing that REALLY decides inheritance rights in westeros is the point of a sword.

which wheels us back to my longstanding point (arrived at throughout my first reread and with the help of many friendly mutuals and anons who contributed to my understanding of the issue) that ramsay kidnapping donella hornwood and marrying her at swordpoint is unusual because he is an unrecognized illegitimate bastard when he does it, but is at the end of the day not that much more brutal or unheard of than any other run of the mill marriage in westeros.

so donella here is like a vector through which the hornwood lands would pass. lysa's situation with the vale is similar, though her claim to the keep and its lands is stronger because she has a living heir AND both tully and arryn forces to guard her claim.

ramsay banked on the dreadfort's forces to protect him from the ramifications of kidnapping raping and murdering a noblewoman AND to hold the hornwood lands. the dreadfort forces could do neither. but the marriage was not a total loss politically since as i have said, ramsay is the legal claimant to the hornwood lands, AND roose has an interest in holding those lands as well so he would back his claim if it came to it.

as with all things in westeros, whoever carries the biggest stick wins the day, regardless of written law or unwritten social custom.

so at the end of the day, i think donella's legal rights to hornwood are strong only insofar as they serve her new lord husband, who stands to inherit her land. which. actually reading over all this again i think it is accurate of you to say that donella only has widow's rights for as long as she does not remarry. but that is less to do with westerosi legal code (nonexistant) and more to do with hornwood having no military strength left AND their leige lords the starks being stretched too thin with the WoFK to lend their help before it's too late to do so.

donella can will her lands to her new husband ramsay because she would have functionally been doing to same thing if lord manderly or his son married her. or if ser rodrik married her. donella has claim over hornwood only insofar as she can give it to her lord husband.

[seancekitsch]

Can't Stand Me Now: a modern Aegon x Stark! reader fic

CHAPTER SIX: House of Jealous Lovers

series masterlist here

warnings for the series: smut, smoking, drinking, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff

You wake up next morning to snoring in your ear and 97 notifications on your phone. Without even looking at it, you know exactly what they are. Fuck. Your stomach turns, as if you’re about to be sick. You pull on Aegon’s arm, fit snug around you, as you turn in his grasp. You’d forgotten his penchant for both clinging and spooning; now you lay victim to both, as you feel the walls close in on you. 

“Aeg,” you attempt to rouse him, and his brows furrow, but his eyes don’t open.

“Aeg!” this time louder, and he flinches. The fucker is awake. 

“Aegon,” you laugh, pressing kisses all over his face until he cracks a smile, pushing you away gently. 

“Already suffocating me, woman,” he jokes, swatting your hair away from his face, “Who knew you were so needy?” 

“Aegon, we’re fucked,” you tell him, voice cracking as you speak. The levity of the moment disappears for you, fear now bone deep. 

“No? We did fuck,” he responds, “and we’re gonna fuck again if you let me.”

You reach around for your phone, shoving it screen first into his face. He groans, reading and scrolling through a few of them before tossing your phone down towards the edge of the bed. He throws his head back as he grimaces, and pulls you into his chest. 

“Why do they have to ruin this? Me and Sunfyre just got you back! Can we please ignore it and just stay here all day?” He whines, and part of you wants to agree. You’d made up for lost time, you’re finally back in Aegon’s orbit and now his bed. Something feels sacred and right about this, and you’d like for nothing more than to lounge around naked all day with him, maybe only putting on clothes to smoke on the balcony or order door dash. 

“We weren’t careful enough,” you mumble, burying your face into his neck. You squeeze your eyes shut, tightly knitting your eyelashes together. 

“Sure, but at least I only saw pictures of us kissing.”

And he’s at least half right, that is a genuine relief you feel all the way into your spine. At least there are not pictures of Aegon fucking you on his fingers for the entire internet and your family to see. Part of your dignity is saved, amidst the swirling insults and cheating rumors at which you are in the forefront. Somehow, the vicious names are not hurled nearly as much as Aegon, but you know why. 

“Can you make like… I don’t know,” you sigh, your mind drifting to your shop, “Like one of those awfully corny instagram posts to clear the air?”

You ask that, as if you don’t know his grandfather is probably going to chew him out, as if this doesn’t give his half sister more fuel to the fire in the company. He doesn’t want it anyway, he just wants his lifestyle. She can be CEO as long as he has his flat and his shoes and his car. But you have your own reputation, your own livelihood to think about. This cannot be good for sales, cannot be good for online reviews, cannot be good for social media. While you don’t make your face a symbol of your brand, it’s not hard to make connections, and a lot of your sales base knows who you are. There’s a very real chance your buyers will believe the rumors and will take their business elsewhere. There’s a chance connections will not want to work with you, bigger stores will not want to stock your designs. 

“Are you kidding? Me? PR friendly?” Aegon jokes, but your silence stops him from laughing. It’s bigger than just the two of you, and he is adept and understanding your moods in particular. He pushes your hair away from your face, and then pulls you out of his neck, your eyes still squeezed shut. 

“Stark?” he asks, his thumb rubbing gentle lines back and forth on your cheekbone. 

You only shake your head. You refuse to cry over this. Refuse to let whatever anyone says get to you in a way that matters. You know what has transpired between you and Aegon. He is warmth that brings you in like a moth to the flame, 

“Hey, hey I can post,” he reassures you, his voice a little panicked. Great, now you feel bad about that too. You open your watery eyes for him, your pout hard to hide. His face is marred with worry, the faint scar under his eye appearing deeper, more garish. His eyes hold nothing but comfort and concern for you. 

“Listen, whatever I can do to help you.”

And he’s sincere when he says it. You nod to him, understanding. He visibly un-tenses when you acknowledge him, and moves into action. 

Aegon releases you from his hold, only to lean back and reach behind himself to grab his own phone set on his charger. He flinches when he sees his screen, probably a similar barrage of texts, calls, and notifications. His thumbs move quickly, tapping against the screen as he scrawls out a note, swiping occasionally when you assume notifications come up. You curiously look at your own phone, and note ten texts from your family group chat, sixteen from the group from last night, and literally hundreds of notifications on your instagram. That one will be its own monster. You only click on the group chat from last night, support and memes light up the screen. If anything, you have them. 

Aegon shifts, sitting up while still furiously typing, his brows knitted together and tongue peeking out from between his chapped lips. You want to whine at the loss of his warmth, but the sight of him stops you. He looks beautiful with the way the sunlight reaches and sets ablaze his silver hair. 

He turns the phone towards you, his brows raised as he waits for you to read it. 

It’s an instagram post, the picture being the same one that he left in your jacket, his favorite.

The caption reads:

“There are many rumors lately, surrounding myself and those I hold dear. While attempting to maintain privacy, I had no way of knowing that the timeline of my personal relationships would remain public interest. My friends and family are deserving of the utmost respect and space. Any ‘faults’ or ‘blames’ should be leveled at me for any misconceptions you may have. Please respect the privacy of my best friend.”

“How is that?” he asks, the same tone of voice he used to have when showing you papers for revision. Aegon and writing have never truly mixed, self expression usually difficult and too vulnerable for him. You look from the caption to him, and back down and up again. It’s hard to voice what you think about the caption. It says a lot, not enough to fully dispel rumors, but it is a public defense of you. 

“I find it weird that you can be this eloquent hungover, and yet sober you send me fuckboy DMs grammatical errors.”

Aegon laughs, full and loud, his chest heaving with each howl and cackle as he pulls you back in close to him. 

“Shut up! I’m being helpful,” he manages to gasp as he calms himself down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he presses post on his screen. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, your voice still small but that heavy weight of anxiety lifted from your chest.

“I think it’ll work,” he tells you, and you believe him. 

“At least maybe our phone batteries,” you agree, and settle into his embrace. It’s a stale sort of happy that drapes a veil over the two of you. You are finally comfortable, finally full again, but this is also the end of something. You can never go back now, pandora’s box opened. It’s a shame really, that you never got to have a bubble of secrecy with Aegon. You would have liked to at least fuck him ten times before the media caught wind of it. You would have liked to design a few green and gold pieces with him in mind before it went public. “It” also being so weird to you. Just yesterday it didn’t exist yet. 

“Can you promise me something?” he asks, whispered, as if his voice might break the spell. 

“Of course.”

“This changes nothing, yeah?”

Of course it does, everything changes now. Your routines, your social lives, your security, your careers, even the relationship will change. It’s futile for him to ask this, but you grant him the promise anyway. Change will not be all bad, especially with Aegon by your side. 

He kisses you instead of saying anything, but this kiss is not like the ones from last night. There’s something deeply desperate with this one, something needing and aggressive in the way his lips find yours. You oblige, parting your lips as you pull him against you, the pair of phones and their vibrating ignored for the heady scent of sweat mixing with day old perfume and cologne. His tongue sweeps across the edge of your teeth, his hands pull and grope at you. Aegon moves quickly, maneuvering himself over you and propping himself up on his elbows. You move your tongue against his, a mouths dancing in sync with one another as your hands tangle in his hair. Aegon’s leg slots between your own, definitively trapping you beneath him. His hands move down, rough hands on soft skin, and pinches a nipple, rolling the bud between his fingertips and you moan into his mouth.  Your hands travel down his bare back, trying weakly to press him to you, the need for his body against yours quickly overtaking your senses again. It’s almost unbelievable, the way your body seeks out his, the way your body has remembered his and what makes him tick. 

“Aegon, please,” you beckon him, and he dips himself down, his length hard and heavy as he ruts agains the apex of your thighs. Your hips buck against him, naturally responding to the need for friction, the need for Aegon. 

“You want me?” he asks, mumbled against your lips. 

“Yeah.”

“You need me?”

“Aegon!” you sigh, exasperated. Of course you need him, of course he doesn’t make this easy for you. He gives in though, shifting until hes got both of his legs firmly between yours, his hips spreading your thighs. He humps against you, his chest brushing against pert nipples with each thrust. His breathing is heavy already, exhaustion from a long night seeping from him like sweat.

“Gonna fuckin,” he interrupts himself, the head of his cock catching on your entrance, your breath hitches in anticipation, “fffuckin’ split you open, baby.”

You moan at his words, hitching your knees up to spread yourself even further for him. His head catches on your entrance a second time as his hips tilt, this time slowly sinking into you. He drops his head onto you when he bottoms out, groaning at the feeling of being completely flush within you. 

He waits to thrust, panting as he gets used to the feeling of you. It’s almost overwhelming, being so full, being so bent up beneath him. Even his breathing as him brushing against the most sensitive spots in you. Stars already form behind your eyes. 

“Aegon, please,” you beg him again, no further explanation needed in your desire for him. He rises up off of you again, his hands planted on either side of your waist as he begins thrusting, slow and deep. He pulls himself almost completely out, then pushes in slowly, roughly bottoming out into you each time. It’s a bruising pace, harsh and perfect. Aegon reaches down, keeping his pace as his hand finds your clit. He rubs quick circles, almost painful compared to the slowness of his thrusts, a deadly combination. Your breath hitches as you gasp, as if each rotation of his fingers pulls the air from your frame.

“Aegon!” you cry, a strangled sob getting caught in your throat.

“There she is,” he urges, nodding as he speeds up the pace of his fingers, “Gimme one.”

He does not need to convince you, each time you squeeze your eyes shut you see the static of stars, each clenching of your muscles sending your nerves alight. Aegon presses harder on your clit, stilling his hips as he holds you in place; Holding you to climax around him.

Aegon more or less forces your climax out of you, holding you in place to spasm and contact beneath him. He encourages you through it, praising you and moaning and begging you to keep going. He doesn’t let up until tears form in the corner of your eyes, silent pleading replacing the moans and yelps from your lips. He kisses you softly, gently, breathing life back into you. You reach up to caress his face, cupping his cheek as he holds you.

It’s only when he’s completely sure that you’re ready to go again that he moves; this time his thrusts are faster, and it’s clear to you that this one is for him.

He ruts into you quickly, short shallow thrusts, but the way he scrunches his brows looks more like frustration than pleasure. He keeps at it, quickening and slowing his pace, changing his angle, pressing his fingers on your clit. You pinch his nipples, you arch into his movements.

No matter what, the frustration remains.

And then you recall Aegon’s penchant for pain. Shaking, you reach your hand up, palm flat.

“This okay?”

Furrowed brows, and then confirmation.

You strike him, contact cracking through the air like lightning.

“Again,” he begs, his eyes pricking with unshed tears.

You strike him again, this time your hand stays on his cheek, rubbing the skin and soothing the area.

Aegon’s hips jerk and stutter, a sign that the slap was exactly what he needed. He pumps into invigorated, his hand once again rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your arms snake around his neck and your legs hook around his waist at the ankles, holding him to you. He looks at you with pure love and desperation.

“Give me one more, please,” Aegon begs, the red mark on his face deepening as he grits his teeth, “Please.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, a prayer. Your arms around his neck pull him closer to you, breath mingling as you grab him in for a kiss.

He comes with a groan, loud and wanton, his pleasure crept up on him not unlike your own. He kisses you as he works himself through it, and you, a weaker second climax.

Aegon collapses on top of you as he finishes, lazily pulling your legs from around his waist and he maneuvers you to lay together. He pants as if he’s run a marathon, sweaty and heavy on top of you.

Besides his exhaustion, he still presses kisses into your skin, still pushes hair from your face, cradles your body to his.

“It’ll be alright, Stark.”

And for the third time this morning, you believe him.

[presidenthades]

Compromise Arc 1, Chapter 1: Behind the Scenes Commentary (surprise!)

I'm rereading what I've published so far of Compromise so I can get back into writing it. As I reread, I figured I might as well start my Behind-the-Scenes commentary.

Compromise is going to be a very long fic. I consider Chapters 1-9 to be Arc 1. Arc 1 is 80k+ words, AKA around the same length as a standard novel, so Arc 1 is like an entire fic by itself. Also, I want to start now because if I wait until Compromise is completely done to do the BTS, it'll be such a long time that I might forget a lot of my initial thoughts while writing…

I will NOT include any spoilers for anything post-Chapter 9! Spoilers for anything from Chapters 1-9 are fair game, as is anything mentioned in other stories like Daemon's Handbook and The Golds.

And now we begin. :3

First, the fic title. I struggled a LOT with picking a title for this fic. Eventually I went for "Compromise and Being Compromised" because it gave Jane Austen vibes (Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility), and Luce and Aemond are a quintessential romance novel couple with all the romance tropes.

The chapter titles have a theme of ambiguity. A lot of them have double meanings. Chapter 1, "Raqiros, Raqiarzy," stems from Luce's little mix-up of the two High Valyrian words when she introduces Aemond to Arrax. (But we all know that he is both.)

Part of the reason that Compromise is such a long story is that the story starts when Luce and Aemond are kids. I felt it was important to show where their relationship started, so that their falling out hits even harder. So the fic opens with a glimpse of their "normal" dynamic, just before everything changes at Driftmark.

The opening scene is Luce hiding from the maids. Although she is quite bold, she tends to hide—literally and figuratively—from her problems. She can be willfully blind to things she doesn't like, e.g. Rhaenyra and Daemon eyeing each other while Laenor's in the room. Also, notice that she has a habit of pulling her hair in front of her face when she's nervous; she is trying to "hide" behind her hair.

Luce notes that Rhaenyra is distracted by Laena's death. Laena's funeral means Daemon is coming back to Westeros, which is a Very Big Deal for Rhaenyra after Daemon's been gone so long. There is a parallel with Luce and Aemond later, after Aemond comes back from the Stepstones.

Part of Luce's character journey is trying to live up to the extremely high standards that Jace sets. Quite a few times, Luce asks herself, "WWJD—what would Jace do?" Sometimes the answer is a good thing, like helping her sister. But at other times, Luce tries too had to be somebody that she isn't, and that just makes her unhappy.

Realistically, the Targkids should have separate lessons. The boys and girls would be separated at least; they might even all have their own maester and/or septa. I imagine the Red Keep has a fairly large number of maesters and septas working there. But I love the idea of throwing them all into one classroom, so I came up with an in-universe justification.

Slight tangent: I read a lot of historical nonfiction. A lot of what I read in these historical nonfiction books never makes it into my fics. But there was a book about the history of paper which led me to the conclusion that even in the royal family, they aren't letting the kids use paper willy-nilly at lessons. In an era where STUFF costs a lot, it makes more economical sense—even at the most elite tier of society—to have kids use reusable writing slates for most of their lessons. Anyway, tangent over.

The maester who teaches the lesson is named Maladon, because I wanted to draw upon the "mal" association for "bad."

I love the scene where Luce and Aegon fight over the seat next to Jace. It exudes sibling energy.

Luce hates being picked up. Aemond is the first to rebuke Aegon when Aegon picks her up.

Joff is a very smart kid. She's also the youngest in a huge brood of siblings and stand-in siblings. She is desperate to catch up and keep up with the others. I'm pretty sure she taught herself to read and write out of sheer stubbornness. I actually have a draft for a fic that's basically Joff writing in her diary. The very first entry looks like this:

MY NAME IS JOFF. TOODAY IS MY FIVETH NAMEDAY. THIS IS MY NEW DIERY. HEL SAYS I CAN RITE ABOUT WHAT I DO AND FEEL EVERY DAY. TOODAY I EATED NO VEGEBLES. TOODAY IS A GOOD DAY.

Helaena's scribble, "The butterfly comes west upon a wind of tears," is 100% about Rhaena coming to Westeros for Laena's funeral.

It's easy to dislike Maladon, but imagine his POV for a moment. He has three ideal students: Jace, Aemond, Daeron. Can't ask for better pupils. And then there's Aegon, the raunchy class clown; Helaena, the space cadet; Lucera, the constant truant. He's hoping Joff will fall into the first camp of ideal students, but…well, we see what happens at the end of the lesson. LOL.

Joff quickly susses out there's bad blood between Maladon and Luce. Joff loves being told she's smart, but she REALLY doesn't like people dissing her sisters.

Maladon is in quite a pickle. Joff is a princess, so he can't use force to get her to stop biting (laying hands on a royal is a big no-no). He has to hope someone else will help, which Jace does eventually.

All the Targs really love that weirwood in the Red Keep, huh? 1000% foreshadowing for Luce and Aemond's Hunsford proposal failed proposal down the road.

Luce finds the act of making leaf crowns calming, similarly to how she enjoys knitting and other activities that require her hands. She has trouble sitting still for long periods of time, so being able to do something with her hands is immensely relieving.

Aemond and Luce practice reading and writing together a lot. Luce really misses their reading sessions once she moves to Dragonstone.

"I'm one of the Children of the Forest." It seems like destiny when Aemond comes across that book later, with the illustration of a Child who looks like Luce.

Nine Voyages by Maester Mathis is a book about Corlys mentioned in A World of Ice and Fire.

Luce thinks it's no big deal to ask Corlys about his voyages, but that's because she is Corlys's beloved granddaughter. Aemond knows very well that Corlys's affection for Luce does not transfer to Aemond and his siblings…but this changes after the Stepstones.

I spent way too much time thinking about the natural state of Aemond's hair LOL. Young Aemond's hair is wavy. Adult Aemond's hair is pin straight, although it looks wavy when wet. Apparently puberty can change how curly/straight your hair is, so I decided that's what happened to Aemond's hair: it went from wavy to straight during adolescence.

Luce starts out wanting to let her hair hang loose like all the other women around her—Jace, Rhaenyra, Helaena, Alicent—but she's wayyy more physically active than the others, and she's very resistant to braids. Once Rhaena comes into the picture, Luce figures out the best way to care for her hair and compromises (big theme in the fic!) with putting her hair in nets when needed. But Luce will always most love letting her hair down, literally and figuratively.

I thought of a whole backstory for Vermax's egg. Vermax is green and orange, so her egg had similar coloring. Do you know who else has green and orange coloring?

So I had this thought that Alicent really liked the colors of the egg, and Viserys promised to let one of their kids have it. Either Aegon (as the eldest) or Aemond, who was newly born. Then Jace was born, and Rhaenyra really wanted the egg for her firstborn, so Viserys let Jace have it instead. And that's one of the reasons that Alicent was so bitter when Jace was born.

"Dragons are not tools for flirting." IDK Aemond, seems like Aegon is doing a much better job at getting the girl lmao.

My 500+ day (at the time) streak on Duolingo for High Valyrian culminated in me translating the very simple sentences in this chapter.

When Aemond says, "It should be raqiros (friend) not raqiarzy (beloved)," Arrax basically shakes his head like, "Nah, bro, she got it right the first time."

Since Jace and Luce would definitely not be up for the Pink Dread in this verse, Aegon uses Daeron as his assistant. But Jace figures out what's up, because she knows Aegon so well.

Six Maids in a Pool is the canonical song about Florian and Jonquil, but I think GRRM only wrote one lyric, "Six maids there were in a spring-fed pool." The other results I looked up seem fanmade, so I came up with some lyrics of my own. As was mentioned in The Golds, Jace looooves this song.

"One of the court minstrels was a bit drunk." Luce is willing to lie when the situation calls for it, but she was kind of telling the truth if you consider Aegon a court minstrel.

Luce implies that Rhaenyra is tone-deaf. LOL.

Honestly, Aegon sets a pretty high bar for romantic gestures. Luce is constantly hoping that Aemond will do the same thing for her, but it just doesn't come naturally to Aemond. Just as Luce eventually learns that she doesn't have to be a replica of Jace, she also learns that her relationship with Aemond doesn't have to be the same as Jace/Aegon.

Luce's meditations on the word "compromise." Title drop!! One day she's going to look back on this conversation and laugh.

Even in her panic about the storm, Luce is a girl's girl. Can't let Rhaenyra suspect that Jace is meeting with Aegon!

Chapter 2 Commentary

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY INTERVIEWED BY BUSINESS INSIDER MAGAZINE.

AS YOU WERE WORKING ON THOSE SEQUENCES WITH MATTHEW NEEDHAM, HOW DID YOU APPROACH GETTING HIM TO THE POINT WHERE HE WOULD MAKE THAT DECISION?

"Well, I think he wasn't given a great deal of options, and this seemed to be an option where the least amount of collateral damage would occur."

"It's survival instinct, I think, at the moment."

"And Larys has proved himself to be somebody who Aegon can trust, at least for now."

"I think Aegon would bite his hand off for that opportunity to get out of there."

"And he can't do it on his own, either."

"So Larys was his ticket out."

THERE'S A VERY MEMORABLE MOMENT IN EPISODE EIGHT WHERE AEGON BRINGS UP HIS PENIS, WHICH WAS DAMAGED IN BATTLE, AS LARYS SPEAKS TO HIM. IS THAT A DEFLECTION, OR IS HE AT ROCK BOTTOM, OR BOTH?

"I didn't see it as deflecting at all."

"I thought it was pure rock bottom, like you say."

"I think he felt like he had nothing to lose, and his dignity went out of the window very early on due to his injuries."

"And I think he's just acknowledging and coming to terms with the fact that he's changed."

"I don't think those changes are fully sunk in yet, but I think the more he speaks about them."

"It's like, when you speak about something, you breathe it into existence, don't you?"

"I think that's the first time he's acknowledged that about himself."

"And as we all know, Aegon found a lot of use for that part of his body."

"So I think he's going to have to reevaluate how he spends his spare time."

WHEN YOU WERE SIGNING ON TO 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON,' HOW MUCH DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS PHASE OF THE CHARACTER, AND HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT THAT WHEN YOU WERE FIRST APPROACHING HIM?

"I knew that he would be a challenge to wrestle into submission, but it was a challenge that I was more than willing to take on."

"I've absolutely loved every minute of it."

"I think he's the gift that keeps on giving."

"And even though his physicality has changed now, I don't particularly think for him, in terms of how unpredictable and how volatile he is."

"I don't think that's going to change at all."

"If anything, there will be more."

"So I'm really looking forward to getting back on season three, and taking him on this next chapter of his journey and really pushing the boundaries even more with him this time."

ALICENT MAKES THE VERY DIFFICULT DECISION TO SELL AEGON OUT TO RHAENYRA IN THE FINALE. DO YOU THINK THAT'S SOMETHING THAT CROSSED HIS MIND A POSSIBILITY?

"I think there was always potential for her to betray him."

"I felt like everybody's egg timer is running out, isn't it?"

"And Alicent was very much on her final grains of sand at that point."

"It was about time that she probably jumped ship and saved herself."

"She's a very, very intelligent woman, and she is a survivor."

"It's just testament, isn't it?"

"How much of a survivor she is that she'll throw her own kids under the bus."

"But yeah, maybe if they meet again at some point down the line, they can have a conversation and she can apologize."

"But I don't know if that's going to happen."

"I think that's probably a different show, isn't it?"

I SPOKE WITH EWAN EARLIER, AND HE SAID THAT AEMOND AND ALICENT WOULD GO HAVE PIÑA COLADAS ON THE BEACH IN DORNE AFTER ALL THIS IS OVER.

"Oh, I'm going to the south of France, not Dorne."

HOW DID YOU AND EWAN APPROACH THOSE CHANGES, PARTICULARLY AFTER ROOK'S REST?

"These two have been at each other's throats for their entire life, and it now feels like everything's come to a head, and Aemond's finally plucked up the balls to do something about it."

"I think it's now a sibling rivalry on a different level."

"There's absolutely no element of Aegon that trusts Aemond at all now."

"I think that Aemond has his eyes on the prize and will stop at nothing to get it."

"Aegon has to come back and fight fire with fire, so may the best man win."

DURING A CONVERSATION THAT AEGON ISN'T PRIVY TO, HELAENA PROPHECIES THAT HE'LL RULE AGAIN ONE DAY. DO YOU THINK HE'S GUIDED BY ANY TRUE BELIEF THAT HE'LL RETURN TO THE THRONE, OR BE BELOVED BY THE PEOPLE?

"I think what Aegon has is something that is far more present rather than looking too far into the future."

"He's a survivalist, and he feels so betrayed on so many levels, by so many people, that there's more of a steely stubbornness to him now, and he's taking it day by day."

"And I think that's where his strength lies, that we just take it one day at a time."

"He's got this inferno of fiery revenge burning inside him, his bitterness that keeps him awake at night."

"I think he's going to use that to fuel him, and not get too caught up with the whole end-game scenario."

IS THERE A PARTICULAR CHOICE THAT YOU'RE REALLY PROUD OF THIS SEASON, OR SOMETHING THAT YOU'VE BEEN DYING TO GET ASKED ABOUT?

"Fabien Frankel and his ability to look unbelievably heroic on a horse."

"Honestly."

"I mean, love the boy to bits anyway, but seeing him mount a horse and gallop off with all that armor, my god — if I had ovaries,"

"Jesus Christ."

FABIEN IS AMAZING. CRISTON, MAYBE LESS SO.

"But I'm not seeing — because I'm seeing Fabien on a horse."

I'm only watching it because my mates are in it, and I'm a fan of the show, so I'm like, 'Well, I'm watching my mate jump on a horse there. That's absolutely class.'

"And he's so good at it!"

"I know he says he's riding on the back of a trailer or whatever, but my God, I think that's even harder to make it look like a proper horse."

"Fabien deserves more airtime."

DID YOU EVER FEEL LIKE THAT WHEN YOU WERE GETTING ON MECHANICAL DRAGONBACK?

"Yeah."

"Well, less so, because it's mechanical."

"I'd love to ride a real horse in the show."

"Maybe that's something I put toward the showrunners for next time."

"Please, can I ride a horse?"

[memescomicswriting]

It's Nice to Have a Friend

Chapter 1: I Got Waisted Like All My Potential

Summary: Fate is cruel on how it goes about obtaining its desires. It must be fate, because there is no other explanation for how perfectly molded Y/N and Helaena are to one another. They complement one another like opposite sides of a coin. Where Helaena is shy, Y/N is outgoing. Helaena has a photographic memory. Y/N has emotional inteligence. They have the right temperament to be the missing piece in one another’s lives. Ying and Yang. Then there are the boys. Love them or hate them, they’re there. Even the adults cannot escape the Targaryen chaos, and the fallout doesn’t spare the minors simply because they’re adolescents. Follow how Y/N and those around her carve out lives for themselves amongst the weight of the Targaryen legacy in a modern Westeros.

Word Count 3.3k

Pairings: Aegon x Y/N, Aemond xY/N, hints of Jace x Y/N, Platonic! Helaena x Y/N, Father Figure! Harwin x Y/N, Mother Figure! Rhaneyra x Y/N, Mother Figure! Alicent x Y/N

Warnings: 18+ you’ve been warned

Lots of profanity, sexual innuendos, drug and alcohol use, boys being stupid jerks, infidelity, divorce, eventual smut

A/N: Chapters drop on Thursdays. Please, please, please, please share your thoughts. I wanna hear them. I don't bite, promise!

Sereies Masterlist

Thinking back on her adolescence, Y/N divided it into two parts: the quiet time and the time she never had a moment alone. The first ten years of her life were spent as a privileged vagabond. She learned how to read airport terminal maps before she mastered her multiplication tables. It was a unique childhood, but she knew what it meant to be loved and understood that she was cared for. 

Her mother was of Valyrian descent, old money, the old country. Her father’s family accumulated wealth as members of the merchant class. They weren’t nuevo riche as their status elevated  almost two centuries prior, yet nothing could compare to the ancient sway of Old Valeryian wealth. Though the empire came and went, those who could trace their ancestry back to the old lords were in the stratosphere of high society.

Her parents met as most wealthy couples do, through mutual friends. They attended the same college and shared a similar spark. Neither enjoyed the formalities of the elite. They preferred the country to the city, gardening to garden parties, but their lifestyle could never be described as rustic. Oh how the rich love to play pretend poor. Through her mother’s side, she inherited vast real estate holdings across the globe. Through her father, she inherited large shares in corporations the family had a hand in founding. Not to mention a comfortable lump sum in the bank. Yes, she was an heiress and for the large part of her minority she never fully grasped that.

Harwin did the best he could. When you agree to be the godfather of your best friend’s kid, you don’t expect to take on the role as it originally meant. He went from a semi bachelor to a girl dad and an orphan within a few hours. The fire marshal could never say with certainty what caused the Harrenhal Estate fire. His brother Larys escaped by being out for the night. Harwin escaped because he had caught Y/N up and out of bed. Back then he was just the fun uncle. He was the gentle giant that would flip her in the air and sneak her sweats. If he hadn’t woken up to her rustling and escorted her to the kitchens in the opposite wing, then they would have perished as well. Harwin tried to go back for his Father and Y/N’s parents, but when the flames reached the bar and all that old barrel booze there was no chance. Floors were caving in and beams falling.

When the CPS officer asked who Y/N’s next of kin were, the answer was Harwin. It was the summer holiday before her first year of middle school. She was left with her belongings from her parent’s penthouse and the guest room at Harwin’s apartment. It wasn’t an easy transition in the least. Y/N didn’t know what sedentary meant. She hadn’t stayed in one location longer than six months. Harwin, though very paternal, didn’t know how to parent a child 24/7. So he went to the one person who did, Rhaenyra.

Y/N had met Rhaenyra several times throughout her prior life. She’d introduced Y/N’s parents and Harwin. Y/N even joined in the family fun of one or two holiday seasons. Her reintroduction to Rhaenyra and her family marked the end of the quiet times. Going from the luxuries of an only child to one of eight adjacent children was an adjustment for sure. She never knew what it meant to share toys and games, to have someone walk into your space at any given moment on a whim, or not have everyone’s full attention by merely being present. Later, she’d come to appreciate how it forced personal growth on her. In the moment, she reacted by being a bit of a brat.

Over time she became accustomed to common space, sharing the spotlight, the fights, always making extra snacks, and the freedom that sedentary life brought. She could bike all over, something she hadn’t done before. Those whom she met the day prior she could continue to see for months, years on end. She learned what it meant to be amongst peers and the wondrous secrets of sisterhood. It certainly made high school bearable.

Another night, another summer party Helaena didn’t want to attend. That was fine with Y/N. She hated seeing Helaena uncomfortable and Helaena’s absence didn’t mean she’d be alone. She had many friends, many more acquaintances. She wasn’t the kind of popular person that climbed their way up the social ladder by having the right clothes, posting the right things, or the viciousness to pull others beneath her. No, she just was. She was kind and good humored. It didn’t hurt that she had Valyrian money and beauty.

Helaena didn’t want to go. If she brought Jace and Rhaenyra or Harwin suspected anything, he’d cave into their questioning. Aemond wasn’t an avid party goer. And Aegon, Aegon was grounded, again. His mother had been harsher on him as of late. The stress of her failing marriage manifested in a need to tightly control her kids- despite her eldest going into college, two in high school, and the youngest in middle school. Better caught by Alicent who’d never assumed Y/N was up to no good than another episode of awkward parenting by Rhaenyra.

The party was across the lake from the patriarch Targaryen residence. It wasn’t a secret that the children of the elite enjoyed a party now and again in the woods that made estate borders indistinguishable. So long as they weren’t too loud or too rambunctious, no one went looking for them. However, someone, probably a Baratheon or Florent, didn’t realize that you couldn’t replace your parent’s two-hundred dollar bottle of imported vodka with water. It would freeze. So this go around, some estate security guards were dispatched to break up the party. After all, calling law enforcement could mean a charge of underage drinking. Either way, the partiers saw flashlights and scrammed in every direction like cockroaches when you turn on overhead lights.

The path to Y/N’s house took her right past the guards. The scenic route was too far and it was too late. She was also tipsy. Who’s residence happened to be a shoreline walk away? Conveniently, her best friend’s. She’d snuck into the Targaryen house countless times. She practically lived there throughout Rhaenyra and Laenor’s divorce. Rhaenyra’s half siblings were just as guilty for sneaking into her house. Early on an agreement was made. Only one household could be in turmoil at a time. The kids needed some place to escape.

So there she was, Y/N, once again using a column to climb to the roof of the porch. From the porch roof she could reach a lower balcony. Sometimes, she could sneak in that route. If it was a calm night and everyone was where she expected them to be, she could enter into the second floor den and sneak up the stairs to Helaena’s room. This wasn’t one of those nights. Light peered through the door blinds. Either Alicent or Viserys was up nursing a drink after yet another fight. Y/N had to quickly and quietly dart across that balcony to reach another. A great thing about being rich and owning gated property; you needn’t worry about how someone could scale your house and break in.

On the balcony roof, in one direction was Helaena’s room. In the other, Aegon’s. Normally, Y/N had no problem making it to her destination, However, tonight she had been drinking and her balance was off. The thought that she shouldn’t be climbing roofs had crossed her mind, but in her state, the cost benefit analysis seemed reasonable. Her foot shifted under a loose shingle and slipped down to catch on a gutter rail. She froze, eyes wide, wondering if the noise was loud enough to arouse suspicion. After all, a means of entrance was also a means of escape. That was more of Alicent’s priority. Quickly, at the realization that the music stopped, Y/N reached out an arm and hoisted herself up to the nearest window. It was unlocked, thank the gods, and she scurried in before the balcony doors could open.

She wasn’t exactly graceful. She was in a rush and intoxicated. She came tumbling into the room like a child at their first gymnastics lesson. She snorted laughter at her grand entrance. Her head threw back as her laughter grew. She’d definitely bruise, but that was a problem for later. Her laughter came to a sudden end when she was admonishingly hissed at.

“What the hells are you doing?” Aegon exclaimed as much as he could in a whisper. He was in bed, under the covers shirtless. His hair was in a wild state and his eyes were rimmed like he had just seen a ghost or had a heart attack. Y/N began giggling at the sight and situation. “My mother’s going to kill me thinking I’m trying to sneak out while grounded!”

“Don’t worry,” Y/N reassured while wiping tears of laughter. “There was music downstairs so it was probably Viserys. Alicent’s probably on the other end of the building sulking in her room.”

Aegon ran his hands down his face stretching his skin. “They’re fighting again.”

“I know.” She confirmed with a hum. There she was on the ground, legs out in front of her, back against the wall. She was a sight to behold in only her sandals and a barely covering bathing suit cover. A fantasy that definitely came across Aegon’s teenage male mind. No matter how much she got under his skin. Maybe because of it.

“Well go on then. You’ve gotten in, now get out.” He waved to the door.

Y/N tilted her head and examined him as he was. A Cheshire cat's smile beamed across her face. Under the covers, no shirt, hands sneaking back under the fabric. As if reading her mind, Aegon began to protest. “No, Y/n I swear to the gods!”

Too late. Y/N had hopped onto the bed like a predator would its prey. “Whatcha doing there, Aegon.” She hummed out with emphasis on his name. She tried to snatch the covers, but he beat her to it. Trying to catch the other compromised. A long running pastime for the pair.

“Praying.” He deadpanned.

“Bullshit.”

“Trying to sleep.”

“Nah, try again.”

“Would you just take your dumbass out of here?” He was getting pissy. She liked him pissy. If she wasn’t making him pissy then he was making her pissy.

She grinned that feline grin once more as she shook her head.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” He sounded exasperated by her presence.

“Nuh uh.” She shook her head fervently.

“Yeah huh.” He retorted.

“Fine,” She blew out an exhale. “I may have had a drink or two out by the lake.”

“The party Dane junior organized?”

“The very one you sadly missed.”

“That’s such bullshit.” He crossed his arms with a disagreeable pout. “I get grounded for taking the car out on a midnight snack run. Meanwhile, Harwin and Rhaenyra probably think you’re off in bed. Even if they catch you missing they’ll just assume you’re with Helaena.”

“Sucks to suck.” She said with a teasing shrug.

“Fuck you.” He scoffed back.

“That’s probably what you were just dreaming of.” There began another laugh of giggles.

“I fucking hate you.” He grumbled, very annoyed.

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically. “Hate to love me. Love to hate me. Now come on.” With that, a bag of gummies magically appeared from between her breasts. How she hid them, he did not know but for sure wanted to find out.

“Get dressed and eat an edible with me.” She offered up the bag.

“How in the seven hells did a devil like you end up best friends with my Septa of a sister?” His gaze was wildly aggressive.

“Fine, fine. I’ll turn around and give you privacy.” She mocked.

Aegon took the opportunity and slipped his joggers back on. He knew if he protested she’d only retaliate and he’d be fighting her off.

“And your sister isn’t a Septa. She’s just not interested in being a whore like you. If you’d been there I’d be the only female you haven’t defiled in one form or another.”

He scooted up to the end of the bed next to her. “Huh, you’d be so lucky.” He plucked a gummy out of the bag and tossed it into his mouth. She might annoy him, but he wasn’t going to pass up free drugs.

“Where’d you get these anyway?”

“The Martell’s just got back from Lys.” She hummed.

“Of course they did. So I should’ve taken half.”

“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” With a shrug, she took one herself.

There they laid. Two semi-delinquent teenagers entertained by the ceiling fan. Aegon’s head was laying on Y/N’s stomach while she played with his hair. It was comforting. No one was this gentle with him anymore. His mother stopped long ago. Helaena was never interested in physical contact, even that of familiar or platonic. Aegon never stayed around long enough for one of his many hook ups to be tender. He’d get a hug from his older sister every now and again, but it was more of one of those pat on the back half hugs. No, it was only on rare occasions when he and Y/N were getting along. She allowed him to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close. She’d run her delicate fingers over his scalp and trace patterns on his chest and cheek.

They’d stay like that for hours; until they heard someone approaching or one needed to sneak off into a respectable bedroom. There was a rarely spoken of companionship between them. Each made to grow up before they were ready. Smacked by the world. Both had ruined a marriage.

They had been silent for quite a while. Aegon was fiddling with the fingers of her free hand. A crease formed between his brows in curiosity. “Why didn’t you bring Jace or Aemond?”

Y/N tutted with humor. It was a common question between the two. If not Helaena, why not trust someone else? “Jace can’t have any fun without getting caught or ratting on himself. And Aemond wouldn’t have gone.”

Aegon turned his head to give her that questioning look. “Oh yes he would’ve.”

“Aemond? Our Aemond? Who only tolerates the majority of our peers and turns back into a pumpkin after midnight? We must not be thinking of the same Aemond.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“But I’m not wrong.”

“You are. I know you are because I know he has a crush on you. Everyone knows he has a thing for you. He and Jace both. You’re just the only one in denial about it. Well, and them.” He shrugs against her.

She lifted her head to glare at him. “Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, if you wanted to, you could have two guys waiting on your every whim.”

“Not my fantasy.” Rather than continue to go back and forth about the validity of his claim, she shot down any thought that she’d want it. That was enough for Aegon to drop it.

They fell back into comfortable silence. It was peaceful. For a moment the world stopped spinning and they were the only two conscious of it. They shared similar weights.

“Are you sure these are fresh? They don’t feel that strong.” Aegon broke the silence again. Though Y/N was normally the chatty one, when they were high or drunk they switched roles.

“Mhm.” She nodded. “Higher CBD to THC ratio. It’s what they had on hand.”

“Oh.” He breathed out, understanding the state they were in. “Who are you going to get high with when I’m gone for college come September?”

He extended his neck to watch her response. Selfishly, he wanted her to say no one because no one could fill his place in these moments. He wanted to be the only one in the whole wide world that she’d be this soft and vulnerable with. He knew that wasn’t true. She annoyed him. She got under his skin and could drive him mad. But he wanted these tender moments to be as sacred to her as they were to him.

“Helaena doesn’t mind edibles.” She answered simply. As if it were nothing. “And Jace is fine so long as he’s away from his mom until he’s sober again.”

Aegon propped himself up and over her. He frowned.

“What?” And this time, her innocence was truthful.

He tilted his head and his frown grew deeper. Y/N sighed. “Do you want me to stockpile all the edibles for when you get back? Is that it?”

Aegon shook his head and kept the frown. Y/N continued. “You won’t be gone that long. The school isn’t that far away and there’s like a dozen holidays in fall semester. Spring has the family trip and summer is right after. You’ll be back. Besides, Helaena and I will probably follow you there next year anyway. We’ll have endless time to take edibles and drool into covers.” She chuckled as it wasn’t as important to her.

He wants to fight her on it. He so desperately wants to make her say this is something special between the two of them. He rolls his eyes and lets it go. He sinks back down onto her stomach and nuzzles into the soft flesh there. “You’re going to be so bored without me.”

Y/N lets out an amused puff of air. “Bored. At peace. Same thing I guess. Hey, maybe Helaena and I will finally have tea without you stealing our cakes.”

A pang of jealousy struck a nerve in Aegon. “You, Helaena, and your tea. I’m surprised any boy is interested in you when you act like an old, married, lesbian couple.” 

He continued in a mocking tone. “Oh Helaena love, you look so beautiful in this light. Helaena, you’re so smart. You’re the smartest person I know. Helaena, I’d do anything for you. I’m surprised someone hasn’t walked in on the two of you scissoring.”

Y/N gave him a shove at that. It didn’t move him much. “You’re gross.”

“And you and my sister are gay for eachother.”

“Helaena doesn’t like girls.” She mumbled. “She doesn’t even like guys like that.”

Confusion flashed across Aegon’s face before it was replaced with stark realization. “No way she doesn’t like anyone. Asexuality is just an excuse you claim when you can’t get laid.”

Y/N went to shove him again but he caught her hands. Aegon was fully invested now. “One, you’re an ass. And two, don’t go around tormenting her with it or I will castrate you and you’ll be a nosexual. Besides, I don’t even think she knows yet. And there’d be no coming back from being the jerk that spoils that for her.”

“I’m an ass.” He clarifies. “Not an asshole.”

“Better be.” Y/N gives him one last threatening look.

Needing to switch topics away from his sister’s sexuality, regretting that he even brought it up as a joke, he asks. “Are you going to spend the night here?”

“I don’t know. Can you keep your hands to yourself?” Before he can make a snide remark, she looked at the clock. “It’s three in the morning. I’d have to be out before the others start to wake at seven.”

Aegon hums in agreement. “Set an alarm.”

It’s an unspoken arrangement. From all the years they spent fighting, wrestling over one insult or another, they became comfortable with being in close proximity to one another. It was almost nostalgic. Like the shared touch brought back fleeting ease; like they were twelve and thirteen and the biggest worry was who could make the other eat dirt first.

They shifted back to the top of the bed. Y/N got under the covers as she was cold. Aegon chased her touch. There they resided, limbs tangled in one another like they were lovers.

And as soon as they found peace the alarm rang.

Next Chapter

[flowerandblood]

The Prince and The Fox (9) (End)

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, virgnity loss, smut, bleeding, fluff ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood!

Story Music Playlist.

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

From that night onwards, she felt that they were officially a couple; they held hands when he walked her home from the bus stop and hugged at school. They didn't have to talk about anything officially − it was clear they were together.

Aegon laughed at them saying that he wondered how much longer they were going to pretend.

Since then, she spent a lot of time at his place. At first she lied to her parents about going to Helaena's, but then it became too suspicious as she spent days there and finally admitted that she and Aemond were together.

"That's great! He's such a good boy. Invite him to join us for dinner, he doesn't have to be ashamed of anything!" Said her father, patting her on the shoulder; after a moment he looked at her uncertainly, as if he had realised something.

"You know how children are made, don't you?" He asked, she sighed heavily, confessing that she knew and that she did not intend to become a mother at such a young age.

Aemond was very apprehensive about having a formal dinner with her parents even though he knew how much they liked him from the situation with Cregan.

Nevertheless, when she finally managed to convince him and he came with her to her house one day after school, they spent a very nice evening together, her parents asking him where he intended to go to university.

"I was thinking about game and programme design. I'm good at maths and computer science, but my dad says it's not a profession." He confessed reluctantly; her father looked at him surprised, swallowing loudly the bite of roast he had just had in his mouth.

"What do you mean? After all, it's the future! Programmers are being sought everywhere now. Of course it's a profession!" He said with certainty, and she smiled, seeing out of the corner of her eye the blush on her boyfriend's face, who lowered his gaze, embarrassed.

They only touched each other with their hands − he showed her how she could satisfy him with a simple squeeze of his fingers down there. She loved the time of their intimacy and closeness, tender, calm and unforced.

They didn't undress completely in front of each other, but pulled their shirts off and snuggled together, kissing, allowing themselves to feel what it was like to feel the bare skin of their beloved's body nestled against each other.

She felt safe with him.

It seemed to her that the fact that they weren't in a hurry to go anywhere even suited him, that he felt thanks to this that it wasn't just about sex but something more, that their physical closeness was the result of their passionate affection and not the other way around.

One day, when he invited her to his house when no one else was there but them, he locked himself in his room with her.

After a few days in which they had to study and had no time to see each other, he literally threw himself at her, pulling off her jumper, pressing his lips to her naked breasts, leaving her in just her panties, sliding his fingers into them in a confident motion, knowing full well that she needed this as much as he did.

"− wait −" She muttered, grabbing his hand, looking at him with a hot, thirsty gaze. He immediately put his fingers out, looking at her surprised and concerned.

"− something wrong? −" He asked in a trembling voice; she could hear that he needed and wanted it himself, that he had been waiting for it all day. She swallowed loudly feeling that her cheeks were all red.

She thought she was ready.

That she trusted him and wanted to see what it felt like.

"− if you want we can try − you know − for real −" She mumbled out quickly, lowering her gaze, playing with her fingers lying on her bare stomach, unable to look at him out of shame. She heard him draw in a loud breath, surprised, and flinched all over.

"− are you sure? − I mean − I don't know, wouldn't you rather we did it in some more special place or time? −" He asked in a trembling voice, and she felt hot in her heart at the thought that he wanted this to be a unique moment for her, that he was thinking of her first and then himself.

She glanced up at him, looking at him with confidence and warmth in her gaze.

"− it's okay − I feel like I'm ready − you know, wet and all − that we can try, I'm not afraid −" She whispered still not looking at him, feeling her heart pounding like crazy, the place between her thighs throbbing hard.

She felt him breathing anxiously beside her; he was looking at her and for a moment couldn't get anything out.

"− okay −" He mumbled at last, rising to sit down, reaching his hand into one of the drawers, taking something rustling from it. She pressed her lips together seeing that it was a condom and lowered her gaze quickly, embarrassed.

He laid it down beside her on the bedclothes, then took her cheek in his hand and turned her face so that she was looking at him; she saw tenderness, fear, desire and uncertainty in his eyes, the same feelings that were now melting in her heart.

"− if − if there's anything wrong − if you want to stop − just say so, okay? −" He muttered, as flushed as she was, and she nodded quickly.

She swallowed loudly when, with trembling hands, he reached into the material of her panties and slid them slowly down her thighs − she helped him by lifting her hips a little and shaking them off her feet, staying completely naked.

He grunted quietly, taking one of his small pillows in his hand.

"− put it under your bottom − I've read that it's easier in then −" He muttered, and she did so without a word, embarrassed and touched that he had to read about how women experience their first time, what is best for them, what will make her feel less pain then.

She spread her thighs obediently in front of him as he knelt between them, with trembling fingers undoing his button and zipper, looking down at her with his lips slightly parted, panting as she did with emotion.

"− I want you very, very much − you know? −" He asked quietly, and she nodded quickly, feeling nothing but love for him in her heart.

"− y-yes − I want you too −" She confessed with tenderness and warmth in her voice. He swallowed loudly and nodded his head as if he needed to hear it.

She saw him slide off his trousers and boxers, struggling with them a little, and after a moment they were both completely naked, vulnerable, frightened. She pressed her lips together averting her gaze as she heard him tear the foil and apply a condom, deciding that she should give him a little privacy.

She shuddered as he lay on top of her, his hands on either side of her head; they looked at each other for a moment, breathing loudly. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers in soft, tender, slow kiss, the tips of their tongues teasing each other with the sticky click of their saliva, making her feel the throbbing between her thighs again.

She drew in a loud breath when she felt him guide the fat head of his manhood against her slit with one hand − he heard it and hushed her, placing a wet kiss on her cheek and nose.

"− relax − we'll do it slowly − we can stop at any time − hm? −" He whispered tenderly and she nodded quickly, swallowing loudly, stroking his cheek with her trembling hand.

"− spread your thighs wider − yes, just like that −" He murmured softly; she clenched her eyes shut when she felt his tip pushing painfully hard against her wet, tight walls, sliding slowly inside her. They both sighed loudly, surprised, looking at each other with big eyes.

"− oh fuck − breath deeply, okay? − easy, little one −" He exhaled in a trembling voice. She nodded quickly, feeling the discomfort of such an intense filling, from which her body involuntarily tried to protect itself.

She began to breathe deeply through her mouth, closing her eyes, concentrating on loosening her muscles. She felt that it was a tad better, and he slid deeper into her; he pushed against something inside her, although she wasn't sure what, and she twisted her body, furrowing her brow in discomfort.

"− I need to make a little more violent push now − it might hurt a bit, don't get scared − okay? −" He asked quickly and she just nodded, breathing unevenly, feeling her whole body tremble.

She felt him slide out of her, and then with a sure, hard thrust of his hips he tore something inside her, making her ache as if someone had stuck a needle in her stomach.

She squealed, clamping her hand quickly on his arm, wanting to stop him from moving any further, looking at him in horror. He looked at her in pain, breathing loudly, his thumb stroking her cheek.

"− I know − I know − you're so brave − the worst is behind us − shhh −" He whispered, and she swallowed loudly, feeling the pain slowly pass, but still surging through her insides as if he had caused her a wound.

"− hold on − okay? −" She whispered in a trembling voice and he nodded. He leaned against her, brushing her puffy lips and she put her arms around his neck, drawing him close, needing to take refuge in his embrace.

They just kissed for a while, stroking their naked bodies − she could feel him pulsing hard inside her, but he made no move, breathing loudly along with her.

"− it's better now −" She whispered into his mouth. He nodded and licked his lower lip, sliding out of her slowly only to slide back in, this time filling her to the very end.

They both looked at each other with their mouths wide open and sighed loudly, surprised that it had worked.

"− are you okay? −" He asked quickly and she nodded.

"− a tad uncomfortable − but it doesn't hurt anymore −" She mumbled out with difficulty, filled with this strange, foreign sensation of realising that she felt him so deeply inside her body, that she was completely vulnerable and dependent on him now.

"− I'm going to start moving − okay? −" He asked with excitement and she nodded quickly. He pressed his forehead against hers and slipped out of her body again almost to the very end, only to fill her again with a slow, deep thrust.

She closed her eyes and relaxed completely, feeling a pleasant tingling in her lower abdomen each time his tip rubbed the spot inside her that he usually squeezed with his fingers.

"− yes − right here −" She whispered and he groaned low, she felt him throbbing hard inside her again.

She felt his hips began to move faster inside her, his thighs slapping against her sticky buttocks with a wet click, with each of his surer motions he teased her harder and harder, her lips parted in an innocent moan.

He kissed her slipping his tongue into her mouth, stroking her cheeks and hair, purring down her throat, both of them moaning loudly as he accelerated enough to make his bed creak beneath them.

"− fuck − so good −" He exhaled as if in awe and surprise, and she clasped her hands on his buttocks, impaling herself on him, panting along with him, pleased to feel that her muscles had adjusted to his shape, that she no longer felt any discomfort.

"− Aemond −" She whispered, and he groaned low, gripping her hips with his hands, stretching her hot, wet insides with his length again, again and again, faster and more aggressively, his intense pushes giving her astonishing pleasure, his gaze as he looked down at her filled with nothing but desire.

"− fuck, Foxy − I −" He mumbled as if in embarrassment, she could feel him twitching faster and faster inside her, and she only nodded.

"− it's okay − c-cum when you want to −" She whispered in shame, and he mewled quietly, his mouth parted wide, his eyebrows arched almost as if in pain as he came, cumming into his condom, panting and moaning low.

"− oh God, baby − fuckfuckfuck −" He growled, tightening his lips, falling on top of her, moving inside her for a moment longer, convulsions of pleasure running through his body.

She hugged his naked, sweaty back, smiling and happy, feeling relieved that it wasn't horrible at all, that she felt pleasure most of the time, that despite the pain at first his words of comfort and understanding made her relax.

"− I'm sorry −" He whispered in her ear and she blinked in surprise, snapped out of her reverie and stroked his hair, kissing his temple.

"− why? − it was very pleasant −" She said tenderly, placing gentle kisses on his cheek, his face pressed into the pillow.

"− you didn't come −" He muttered, as if this was his greatest failure, as if it was a cause for immense shame and disappointment on his part.

"− I didn't want to − I just wanted to do it with you − to feel what it's like − next time we won't be so scared −" She murmured, embracing him more tightly, tracing her fingers down his spine, feeling a shiver run through him, his soft manhood still deep inside her.

"− aren't you disappointed? −" He asked uncertainly as if he wanted to make sure, and she shook her head.

"− no − I'm very happy − albeit a tad sore −" She admitted and laughed lightly; she heard him murmur beside her and he finally lifted his face, placing a loud kiss on her cheek.

"− you were so brave −"

They were both horrified and panicked when they saw the blood on his pillow and sheets, not knowing what they should do first; he dressed up quickly and went to the bathroom to get some wet wipes and a towel, while she quickly found a pad in her backpack and stuck it to her panties as soon as she got herself cleaned up, putting them on, not wanting to get anything else dirty.

"− are you sure we shouldn't − I don't know − go to the doctor? −" He asked, looking at her horrified, and she shook her head.

"No, I read that this can happen. It should stop soon, but we need to wash your bed." She muttered, and he nodded, swallowing quietly.

Together they pulled off the sheet and threw it with the pillow into the washing machine, setting it to a quick wash, and then hand-washed his mattress. Fortunately, the blood came off easily, so they simply put on new sheets, changed into pyjamas and lay in his bed, cuddling.

She felt him stroking her back as she snuggled into his chest, embracing her with his arms, both of them silent.

"− do you want me to take care of you now? −" He asked uncertainly, and she shook her head.

"− no, I don't think I'll be able to sit down tomorrow −" She said amused, lifting her head up and meeting his disappointed gaze full of remorse. She stroked his cheek and smiled at him.

"− it was perfect − just as I had dreamed − I was very scared, but thanks to you it wasn't so terrifying −" She said softly; he swallowed loudly and nodded. He looked at her uncertainly after a while, taking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"− you know that − that I love you very much − don't you? −" He asked in a trembling voice; she smiled tenderly and nodded, a warm, peaceful feeling filling her heart.

"I know. I love you too."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[hardyshoe]

Sonnenblumen.

Chapter One - Carnations, for fascination.

Masterlist.

Also posted on AO3 - here.

Hello! Thank you so much for stopping by! Welcome to my first long fic, it centres heavily on Aegon and his perception of himself, a character study of sorts through the lens of somebody uninfected by the wills of his family. I aim to portray him in a way that aligns with his canon self had he been through different circumstances and I really hope you love him as much as I do.

Updates will be every Friday and I would love to hear any and all thoughts you have and if you want to be tagged! All my love, SlaginSecret xxx

⚘⚘⚘

The first time he comes in, you almost laugh at him. It’s a Wednesday, the pub as busy as it always is and there is a quiz half underway. After living your entire life here, there is a comfort to the noise, the grime on some of the working men who come in from the mines, the orders of the same drinks for the same people night after night. Behind the bar, you can look into the crowd and assess, see that Joseph Blackburn’s wife wanted to go home an hour ago, her coat is firmly buttoned, and she refuses another half pint of ale every time her husband staggers back to the bar. Bill and Brian are on the darts again, half-finished pints of Guinness dripping condensation onto the old wooden table next to them in anaemic rings, Bill is losing, Brian is gloating, nothing is new.  

You like watching the young women from the village playing the quiz the most, they all drink variants of vodka tonics and discuss their answers with each other, some prim and precise in their opinions, others vibrating in their seats when they are sure of an answer. You know some of these women from school, your companions until you all left school at sixteen. You note the missing Mary Crillen, how Barbara and Joan still leave an almost chair sized gap between each other for her absence, it had caused quite a stir among the group when she had taken her place at St. Andrews to read chemistry at the start of the school year. By the time the October chill has people shivering into the pub with their winter coats on, it is recognised that she won’t be changing her mind. She was always the brightest of their lot anyway.  

“’Nother of the same please, Darlin’” you’re snapped from your snooping by Joseph Blackburn putting down his empty glass a little too hard, his wife staring daggers at his back as he learns over the counter at you.  

“Does your wife not want anything?” You lead. He is perhaps too drunk to take your point,but you’ll try anyway, Helen always lets you keep the change, and you feel duty bound to try and help her. 

He turns around and raises his glass at her in question, she firmly shakes her head, arms crossed over her chest. He sighs heavily and fumbles some coins from his pocket, enough for a half. The ale drips down the side of the glass and onto your fingers, you shake your hand under the bar while Joseph drinks his half in short order. He makes his way back to Helen muttering about how “it’s only sodding nine”, but takes her arm when he reaches her, nonetheless.  

That’s when he comes in, bounding through the swinging door left open by the couple, no coat, and a wide-eyed overwhelmed look at the din of the small pub. He does not fit in at all, the creases in his slacks do not hide their quality and the shocking white of his shoulder-length hair would have him standing out anywhere but Scandinavia. He is, perhaps, the most interesting looking person you have ever seen. 

He takes the most convoluted route through the tables to the bar, peeking over shoulders at the quiz and staring at the pictures on the walls. You watch him, bemused, as he comes to stop in front of you. He smiles brightly when he meets your gaze. His are lavender somehow, verging on blue at the edges.  You didn't know that was possible, maybe it isn't really, only for  him. 

“Hello!” he greets brightly. Glancing around the bar at the coloured bottles of the liquor and the high stems of the ale pumps. 

“Hello,” you return, waiting for him to come back to you and order something. You aren’t pushing though; there is something enjoyable about watching him, an unpredictability drawing you along. 

“What would you recommend?” he asks, dropping his chin into his hands, propping his elbows on the bar. 

You laugh incredulously. No one has ever asked you that before, people don’t often ask at all, their usual orders as known as their names. “You’re going to make me question your age if you ask things like that.”

He grins, the smile on his face seems ceaseless, even when he had been bowled over by his surroundings on his entrance there had been a visage of it lingering in the lines by his mouth. “Maybe I wanted to know so I could buy you one.” 

You shake your head, turning to wipe the counters behind you. He tumbles along the bar as you walk down, you watch him follow in the mirrors in front of you. You’re amused by him, his excitability and the energy he exudes. “Fine, fine, I will have a pint of this middle one, please.”

He is pointing at the golden top of the ale pump and you truly don’t know what to make of him. He is your age, or there about, you’ll take him for eighteen. His accent adds to your curiosity, a rich southern something or other, much more proper than you’re used to this far north. What he is doing here you have no idea. 

“Is this your first drink?” you ask, tinging your tone with a pretend patronising lilt. 

He smacks a hand to his chest and drops his mouth open in shock, feigning offence. “What do you take me for?”

“Well, forgive me for assuming, but when a gentleman chooses his drink by jabbing at random, I don’t exactly take him for an expert.” 

He hardly seems to listen, his eyes flicking between the pub floor and you every time someone shouts something about an answer to the ongoing quiz. “You think I’m a gentleman?”

You don’t respond to his fishing, and he gets distracted craning his neck to watch you pull his drink. He realises you’re not going to reply when you place the drink in front of him.“Besides,” he says, taking a sip, “I didn’t choose at random; this one had the nicest picture on the label.” 

 He swizzles the label around in your favour and you raise an eyebrow between him and the forest scene depicted. He shrugs, pretending not to be pleased with himself.

The pub has quietened down slightly, the quiz keeping people from coming up for more drinks. You’ll have a quiet half an hour at least. It’s the intrigue of him that makes you ask, you tell yourself, nothing to do with the way he looks at you. “Who are you?”

He is amused by the question; he must be aware of what a foreign figure he seems amongst the regulars here. It’s your father’s pub, opened by his father in the late eighteen hundreds, most of the people come here because their parents did. He offers vaguely, “Aegon.”

“That is not your name,” you tell him, sure he must be messing with you. 

“It is!” He insists, voice high with indignation, “My name is Aegon Targaryen.”

You laugh at him properly then, the absurdity of everything about him. “Okay Aegon Targaryen, if that’s your real name,” he repeats his previous plea, even higher, and you hold your hands up in surrender, “What are you doing here and why have I never seen you before.”  

“I snuck out,” he whispers this dramatically, looking either side of him before speaking. 

“From where?” you ask, this strange boy becoming ever more interesting by the minute. 

“School of course.”

 It all clicks into place then, his too nice clothes, clean nails and posh boy accent. “You mean the big one two miles away?”

He gives you a sheepish look, “I may have temporarily relieved a friend of his bicycle.”

“Nice of your friend to lend it to you,” you say, knowing this friend has no idea of the location of his bike. 

Aegon confirms this with his wince, you chuckle. “He won’t notice I shouldn’t think, no one is allowed at this time.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“Yes well, I got a bit bored, didn’t I? " He explains, like it makes all the sense in the world. For him, with what little you have deduced of his character so far, perhaps it does. You stare at one another for a moment before a tapping of glass alerts you away.

Bill and Brian are waiting at the other end of the counter, and you begin refilling their drinks, watching Aegon survey the room from the corner of your eye. You expect him to go and take a seat somewhere, but he doesn’t, secretly you hope he won’t at all.  

“You missed the start of the quiz,” you tell him, he jolts from staring at the players on the floor tables. “You’ll have to sneak out earlier next time.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I’m shit at this sort of thing anyway. I don’t know anything,” he shrugs. “But it's nice to know you want me back.”

“Maybe I just like how quickly you finish your drinks,” you say, taking his empty glass and refilling it. 

“I’m not really used to this sort of thing,” he says gesturing around the room while his other hand digs for coins in the pocket of his rumpled trousers.

“What are you used to then?”

He gives you a wry look then, evasive and self-deprecating at the same time. “Nothing as nice as you”

You’re not sure how to respond to that, nor quite what he means so you just look at him until someone else comes looking for a drink. It continues similarly for the rest of the night, you taking brief interludes to serve people while he waits for you to return, steadily making his way through an impressive number of drinks. You begin to think he is more used to the bottle than you had assumed when he first got in.  

He begins giving you answers to the questions as they are read out, all wrong but he is having so much fun that you let him. Enjoying the deep ruddiness of his cheeks and the way he exaggerates disappointment each and every time he is wrong. 

“Who even writes these stupid questions, how is anyone supposed to know who hosted the 1952 Olympics?” he slumps his head on the bar, and you discreetly push the ends of his hair away from the puddle of condensation at the base of his drink.

“It was Finland,” you tell him consolingly, “my dad writes most of the questions, that’s why there’s so many on sports.”

“Hmm,” he puts his chin directly on the bar and looks at you through tired eyes. “What about you?”

“I do the arts and culture ones,” you smile to yourself, you’re only ever allowed ten and they can’t be too obscure, but you enjoy writing them, nonetheless. They often centre on the books and magazines you read, foreign authors and artistic journals. Most of the older quizzers groan when your section comes up, but your father entertains you every fortnight anyway. 

“When do they come up?” he asks, dragging himself back to a standing position.

You check your copy of this week’s questions below the counter, he leans over the bar to try and see too. “Two more questions of world sports then I’m up.” 

“You read them out?” He is paying more attention now, coming back to himself a little more.  

You nod, “My dad can’t pronounce the names, so I get to do them.” You head over to the end of the bar, unlatching the gate to the floor and heading over to take the place of your father on the raised stage. 

Aegon strays from the bar, coming to sit on the empty table closest to you. He doesn’t look anywhere else as you steady yourself and begin. “Good evening, everyone, I hope you’re all having fun.”

A whoop erupts from beside you; you turn to see Aegon clapping. He pays no mind to the confused looks from everyone else and you can’t help but smile back at him.

You rattle through your prepared questions, the focus this time being on modern art and French philosophers. The quiz girls are conferring wildly, the old geezers looking resigned. Aegon keeps adding comments as you go, he’s thoroughly pissed but it's quite endearing hearing him to your left. 

“Good one!” he adds to a question about Camus, clapping and nodding like he has any idea about the answer. You’re sure he doesn’t. Nancy from the girls table is looking at him appraisingly, she does the maths questions and is sitting this round out. You hope to yourself that Aegon won’t notice, shake yourself out of that thought a moment later. 

“Who painted the 1907 work entitled ‘the demoiselles d’Avignon’? First displayed in Paris in 1916” it’s your penultimate question, just as Barbara and Joan are just bowing their heads together when Aegon leaps from his chair.

“I know this one!” he looks beyond pleased with himself, rocking back and forth on his feet with excitement. 

You walk over to him as everyone confers, some shooting him dirty looks for his outburst but he is oblivious to them. “You aren’t even playing, Aegon.”

He grins, still bouncing, “It's Picasso though, isn’t it?”

He looks so proud of himself. It's infectious, his joy. You nod at him and he spins in a clumsy, jubilant circle. “What’s my prize? What’s my prize? ” he demands.

“You have to be playing the game to win the prize.” He pouts and this and you feel yourself being won over by his charm once again. He is a magnet of a human; you keep falling to his gravity.

“What would you have as a reward for getting precisely one question out of fifty correct?” 

He ponders this, hands on his hips and eyes drifting into space, there is an electric drama in the way he moves. Such an exaggeration to every movement and expression, you find it funny in a way that scrapes at your bones. Has he ever just been neutral about something? 

“Your name, and perhaps a promise to see you again.” It’s so simple an ask, almost nothing at all, but the innocence in how he asks has you blushing.

“Get on with it!” Someone shouts and you dash back to the podium, it’s one of the miners, impatient to get to the final ten general knowledge questions. 

“Settle down George, just because you don’t know the answer doesn’t mean no one does.” He looks chastised, tucking his chin in while his mates laugh at him. 

You conclude your bit and Aegon follows you back to the bar, leaning across to you with his hair falling into his eyes. You want to brush it back for him, it feels wrong for his beautiful eyes to be covered. 

“I might like to collect my due I think,” he declares, tracing over the ghosts of drinks past stained into the wood below his hands. 

“I work here five times a week, I also live here. If you come back, you’re likely to see me,” you point out and he nods, filing that away in his busy mind. 

“And?” you almost act clueless to what else he wants.

You sigh and tell him your name; he repeats it back to himself and looks you up and down. “It suits you,” he decides finally. “I like it.”

“Thank you, Aegon,” he smiles beatifically at you. Your father rings the final drinks bell and an inpouring of customers pile the bar. You flit from end to end, fixing a dozen people with their final plying of the night before you make it back to your spot in front of him again. He nurses his last pint, drawing shapes in the condensation and watching them drip into nothing. 

“How come you knew the answer?” he perks when you speak again, there is something of an excitable dog about him. Something equally untamed. “You told me you didn’t know anything.”

“Well I might know a few things, just nothing of any use to me,” he is slightly grim when he says this, like he cannot do anything about it. “Anyway, my mother has one of the sketches for it in her sitting room. I used to think it was scary when I was little, the eyes are just so…”

He mimes funny, spiking shapes in front of his own, and shudders. The memory is still disturbing him somehow. You can hardly focus on him, though, not with the revelation he has just given. 

“Your mother owns a Picasso?” You can barely believe what you are asking.

“None of the good ones, just sketches and a few very brown things that don’t look like anything at all.” It's normal to him, you realise. The disparity between you two drops across the front of your mind like a veil. None of the boys from the boarding school come to the pub, they are not allowed off the grounds unaccompanied and the very few times one has come, they have been pulled out by their ear shortly after. It is a world unfamiliar to you and you struggle to fathom the calibre of person who attends the imposing institution. In the face of Aegon’s boredom for the shatteringly important art he apparently has in his home, you find yourself less surprised at his wonder at the pub. How quaint it must be, to have more money than God and to watch a group of bright young women scrabble their knowledge for a voucher to the bookshop down the road.

He catches you lost in thought and grimaces. “Sorry, I don’t want you to think I’m something I’m not for that. My mother has no care for the art itself, she views them more as investments than anything else.” You don’t speak, still to stunned. He begins to talk without direction, “it is a funny feeling to be cared for less than a frame on the wall, simply for being of less use.”

His eyebrows draw together when he speaks of her, you can sense a hurt he won’t speak more of. One you cannot ask about when you have only just met, even if you feel as if you have known him for years after just a few hours. 

“I cannot judge you for something that is out of your control,” he doesn’t seem to understand that, so you continue. “It’s not your fault, is what I’m saying.”

How odd you think, to be comforting him over his wealth. However, there is a darkness in the past of the vivacious boy that has consumed your evening, one that speaks of fear and shame and unbearable pressure. You can see it in the drop of his shoulders, how he looks as though he has the weight of a hundred worlds on them.

“Everything is always my fault,” he says, a sad little ghost of a smile crossing his face. “Always has been and always will be.”

He is vague and aimless in his tipsy state, the alcohol turning him melancholic and reducing him to a visage of a small boy before you. You are struck by the desire to hug him.  

You realise he is the last person left, your father glancing at you and him as he wipes down the tables across the room. You are loath to make him go, the idea of him biking the two miles back to his castle of a school filling you with dread. Reluctantly, you speak, taking his hand between yours and mustering a small uptick of your lips despite your concern. “I don’t believe that.”

He looks almost wounded when he looks up to you. “You’ll see, soon enough.”

 He turns his hand over between yours and squeezes you briefly but tightly, a fleeting feeling of his holding on lingering after he has withdrawn. The feel of it tingles across your skin, the wines of his palms and the gentle, accidental scratch of his short nail on the inside of the right pinky as he stumbled to his feet. You hold your hands to your chest, leaving enough of a gap for the memory of his.

He ambles towards the door; you watch him go. “Will you come back again?” You call after him, a shred of fear simmering in you at never seeing him again. 

He swings around to you and flashes you his teeth, “unfortunately for you, I don’t think I could stay away.” 

The October air swallows him, and you study the doors in his wake. You lose yourself to a reverie in your solitude, feeling a coldness lick at your shoulders in his absence. 

 “Who was that then?” your father asks, making you jump violently where you stand. He laughs at you, not unkindly. 

 “His name is Aegon.” you offer, not sure how to pull apart your myriad feelings on him just yet, let alone explain him to someone else.

 He snorts, “No it isn't.”

 “That's what I said!” you exclaim, picking up your rag and skirting it over the bar. 

 “He’s sweet on you,” your dad says, you don't look up from your work, feeling your cheeks glow. You hear him chuckle across the room at your staunch silence. 

  The two of you clean together in the familiar way, leaving the pub in a state of eerie quietness once the bolts on the doors have been smacked into place. Weariness hangs on your shoulders once the lights go out and you head towards the staircase next to the bar that leads up to the flat. 

 You fumble down the corridor, hands skirting the wallpaper and tracing the door frame of your parents room, your dad dad following and ducking in behind. “Goodnight, my girl.”

 “Night, Dad.” 

 In the solitude of your room, you think of him again. There is an impatient giddiness under your nails at the idea of him coming back, perhaps it is testament to the monotony of your life but you think it may be more telling of the brightness of his being. 

 Intrigue burns through your veins, a need to know more of him. Of the school he lives in, his society mother and his filthily rich family. You need to know where he fits in among it all, you cannot imagine him in a uniform, nor a pristine family portrait like the ones you see on the front pages of the magazines in the window of the newsagents. You can't quite imagine a place he would fit, wonder where he has that he can go without standing out. It must be tiresome being so constantly an outlier, there is something in that you can empathise with. 

 You shake your head and put him from your mind. You do not know him, you tell yourself sternly, what a daft idea to assume anything about him. Still, the look in his eyes when he had spoken of his mother dances in front of your mind before you are taken by sleep. 

[serymn]

year-end fic list

As the year ends here's another fic roundup. I only started writing this year again and I hyperfixated on helaegon a lot so here's my fics after HotD S2. Will finish some fics for next year and maybe also write for other pairings and fandoms. I also got some requests on queue...

multi-chapters

hollow heart [complete, 70k words, E]

Almost two years of Aegon and Helaena's marriage has passed, yet they still have not sired heirs. They are sent away from King’s Landing in the hopes that duty might be fulfilled.

without seeing the dawn [1 chapter to go, inspired by orpheus & eurydice]

Ten years had passed since Aegon claimed victory in the war known as the Dance of the Dragons. The kingdom is at peace, the usurper is gone and he remains. But almost everyone he loved is dead: his sons, his brothers; and his sister, wife, and queen - Helaena.

On some nights, a specter haunts the halls in the shape of her. Does the dead haunt the living, or is it the other way around?

one-shots

keep me on fire

At first, he didn’t want her for a wife. When desires take hold, he soon learns that she’s all he ever wanted. [Post-wedding]

without you on my skin

Aegon confronts Helaena after her dance with Jace at the family dinner, and Helaena also confronts him with his failures.

hold me close

Aegon goes home for Christmas, for his sister Helaena.

needle and thread

It has been long overdue, but with the death of their father, Aegon is now compelled to marry his sister to be crowned King. Despite his misgivings - one of them, her age. [Age gap, Helaena is 18 while Aegon is 29]

bonus: our unsettled shapes, a helaegond fic this time

[jozor-johai]

The Dornish in TWOW

Just looking at a bunch of things we know, thinking about potential future developments.

Maybe this is in part to defend why we need to care about the Dornish plotlines—I don't think GRRM introduced these for no reason, and as I'm trying to point out, those four chapters in FeastDance, plus our two from TWOW, have placed Dornish in a lot of different plotlines. If these start to converge at all, the Sand Snakes are suddenly going to be a very valuable and knowledgeable power bloc.

In fact, let me say: looking at all these moving parts, I don't think there's any way that Doran has a "master plan" ... yet. However, they've got agents in so many places that if they all report back to Doran—and Doran plans in response, say midway through TWOW maybe—then we might see a whole bunch of storylines shift at once.

In the Aegon/Golden Company situation:

Arianne Martell, along with Daemon Sand and Elia Sand have joined up with the Golden Company at Griffin's Roost. Arianne has left for Storm's End, where Connington is waiting, apparently having taken the castle.

Interestingly, we also know that "Spotted" Sylva Estermont (Santagar), another member of the Arianne-Myrcella plot, has been hurriedly shipped off to Greenstone to marry the elderly Lord Eldon Estermont. However, Greenstone has been taken by Marq Mandrake of the Golden Company, and Jon Connington has arranged for Mandrake to bring any noble captives from Greenstone to Cape Wrath—and, now that Spotted Sylva is an Estermont, that means her. I suspect that means we see Sylva and Arianne reunited quite soon.

Meanwhile, in King's Landing (which the Golden Company are undoubtedly heading towards)

Nymeria Sand has been sent to King's Landing to officially take the vacant Dornish seat on the Small Council.

Tyene Sand has been sent to act as a septa and gain the trust of the High Sparrow, meaning the Dornish are also trying to have an agent within that power bloc as well. Since we last see Cersei accompanied at all times by a septa, we might see Tyene and Cersei interact in TWOW.

If Arianne is still with the Golden Company by the time Aegon reaches King's Landing, it's possible that we might see Nymeria and Tyene reunited with their cousin within the city walls.

Meanwhile, in Oldtown

"Alleras" aka Sarella Sand is in Oldtown, working with Sam and formerly Archmaester Marwyn "the Mage." They will probably be witness to whatever Euron pulls down there so would also be a useful source of information.

Meanwhile, across the Narrow Sea—

In the Dany plot arc:

Archibald Yronwood and Gerris Drinkwater are in Meereen, down one frog. To get the Tattered Prince's help with the dragons, Quentyn Martell promised to give Pentos to the Tattered Prince once it was taken (and in the process, promising it would be taken). Barristan utilizes these two Dornish to transfer the terms of that deal to the Barristan-"Dany"-Shavepate coalition, which they agree to in exchange for a ship to Dorne to return Quentyn's bones.

This is quite interesting, because it places these Dornishmen as the hinge to a number of moving parts. For one, it means Barristan is relying on them to confirm the terms of the Pentos agreement with Team Dany. In addition, it means that they will become a potential source of information for Doran Martell as to the situation in Meereen (chaos as of now) and Quentyn's fate. I suspect that Doran will not be pleased with Quentyn's fate in Meereen.

I also suspect that a report of the current situation in Meereen will look like this: Dany is missing, the dragons are out of control, and the remaining forces on Dany's side are in chaos fighting a losing siege. Depending on when Arch and Drink leave Meereen to return Quentyn's bones, Doran might get a pretty unflattering picture of Dany's situation—which he may then use to calculate his next moves.

However, as Arch and Drink return home, they may cross paths with a few other Dornishmen:

Andrey Dalt, who we last saw with Arianne in The Queenmaker**,** is currently en route to Norvos to stay with Lady Mellario, estranged wife of Doran Martell and mother to Arianne, Quentyn, and Trystane, is in Norvos. This is also where Areo Hotah is from, and I sometimes wonder if we've heard so much about it because we'll see it at some point. If we don't see Andrey on his way to Norvos, we may see Andrey in Norvos if Dany stops there on her way out of the Dothraki Sea.

Garin of the Greenblood, who was also with Arianne and Drey, is en route to Tyrosh. I'm personally quite convinced we'll see Garin again because he's been identified with a jade earring and a single gold tooth—which will make him very easily recognizable from another POV. Dorne under Prince Doran Martell appears to have a very close relationship with Tyrosh: as a girl, Arianne played in the Water Gardens with the green-haired daughter of the Archon of Tyrosh, and might have been sent to Tyrosh herself if not for Mellario's objections. If that had happened, she might have been betrothed to Viserys Targaryen there, in secret. If the current leaders of Tyrosh are at all like that Archon, Garin may be headed for a very cushy placement in Tyrosh, perhaps under the Archon.

Meanwhile, in Dorne:

Last we heard, Trystane Martell was meant to accompany Myrcella Baratheon back to King's Landing by land, led by Ser Balon Swann. However, Doran intends to waylay this plan by getting Myrcella to request that Balon to hunt down Darkstar...

Gerold "Darkstar" Dayne has fled, apparently to his home in High Hermitage, following the disaster of the Myrcella expedition.

If Doran's plan goes off as intended, then Areo Hotah, Obara Sand, and Ser Balon Swann will be traveling together to High Hermitage "to beard Darkstar in his den." It's hard to say what exactly is going to happen here, but that's another moving part to keep track of—and one that will potentially, finally, introduce Dawn to the story.

Besides that, the youngest three Sand Snakes are all over Dorne—one each in Hellholt, Sunspear, and the Water Gardens. Ellaria Sand is with her youngest in Hellholt. I don't think they're major players but it's good to keep track of them.

Final Thoughts

After compiling all this, I’m realizing I’m much more interested (and convinced by) a unified Dornish effort yet to be created. There’s no way that Doran is able to see the future perfectly enough to plan ahead of all of these variables, but one power player having all these points of access is going to be pretty rare and valuable moving forward.

And, as I’ve suggested in the post here, I think it’s likely that the information they get about Dany might be biased and outdated by the time it reaches Doran, which could lead to a miscalculation.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

'THE CONQUEROR REBORN', ( NO GOODNIGHT KISSES )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. Here is a sneak peek of one of the chapter’s from “THE CONQUEROR REBORN”. <3 pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x Hightower! OC ( Roselyn Tully-Hightower ) x Helaena Targaryen prompt: The aftermath of Rook's Rest word count: 500+ words ( If you like this. Go to wattpad to read the rest of it! )

Recoiling backwards at the onslaught of glares and shouting, he stops knocking, his shoulders sagging. He was used to being yelled at. It was nothing new. But, the door on the far end of the hall opened. Gulping deeply as a sneering Roselyn opens the door, she resembles an angry dragon if anything, narrowed eyes flickering towards everyone like they were to be her next prey.

Her hair is a mess from sleep. Her night gown wrinkled and half on. Recoiling even more, he removes his hand from the door, cowering in place. He had never seen her angry before, truly angry, and it was truly terrifying. Flickering his eyes to the door in front of him and the door down the hall, he cringes realizing he had been pounding on the wrong door.

"Shut the bloody hell up, the whole lot of you! Some of us are trying to sleep!" Roselyn shouts, a deadly glare on her face for being awoken.

"Lady Roselyn, it is entirely improper to say such things! Has your Mother not taught you⎯" Alicents to scold, only to be cut off.

"Does it bloody look like I care to speak at this hour?!" Roselyn snaps back, "Wake me for anything less than death, and I promise, I'll make Vhagar's wraith seem like kindness compared to me! Now, good bloody night!"

"Goodnight, Roselyn." Aemond mumbles, his voice full of exhaustion.

"Goodnight, Roselyn. Sleep well." Helaena adds, a small smile on her lips.

"Goodnight, Aemond. Goodnight, Helaena. Sleep well." Roselyn instantly shifts her tone, her voice gentle and caring.

It was a neck breaking switch, from hateful and full of so much venom to a warmth that made him recoil back. Why did Aemond of all dull people get such a kind goodnight? Frowning as she doesn't even acknowledge him, he fiddles with the coronation ring on his finger, swallowing deeply. He wanted to speak to her. He wanted her to give him that same kindness. He wanted to lay with her, speaking for hours and hours. They did not need to even bed each other. He just wanted to be around her. Yet, here she was, not even sparing him a second glance or breath.

"Do I not get a good night as well?" He asks, a hint of a pout tugging at his lips.

"You bloody woke me up, no." She snaps back, a scowl on her face.

"But, I have something to tell you⎯" He tries, but she raises her hand to silence him.

"Pester me as you wish during the day, but do not dare to wake me for such foolishness." She argues, shaking her head.

"But, I⎯"

"Aegon Targaryen, I do not care if you are King, you do not wake me for anything less than death." She snaps back through gritted teeth, "Now good bloody night!"

The door slams shut, leaving the rest of them in an awkward silence. Staring at the closed door, a big stupid dopey grin spreads on his lips at her cranky response. He was in love, he was sure of it. The way her cheeks flushed a soft pink as she shouted. The way her hands shoot at her sides. The way her nose would wrinkle up as her nostrils flared. The way that she just yelled at him, not caring about any repercussions. She was adorable.

"Goodnight, Lady Roselyn.."

"Bugger off!" She shouts through her door, "Tis' too late for your pestering."

----

Comment below if it you'd like to be tagged in future 'THE CONQUEROR REBORN' posts. ( Where to read is linked below )

[neptuneiris]

could you pretend to be in love? (07/10)

To Dragonstone / Lovers

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: the trip to Dragonstone arrives and things between you and Aemond may remain distant or may take a big turn. you are sure of your feelings but does he feel the same way?

word count: 8.4k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

hello!

even i'm surprised that i updated and it didn't take me two or almost three weeks, but here it is!

i'm so happy for the recognition the story is getting, truly, thank you so much beautiful people, i hope you like this chapter a lot too. i'm looking forward to your comments!

After what happened… there was a total change of behavior between you and Aemond.

Even that same day after he didn't drop you off at your house because you told him that Alysanne would be the one to drive you, that night he texted you that there was a party at one of his friend's house.

You didn't reply right away, you just watched the message appear on the top of your screen silently and did nothing.

And after a few minutes he texted you again telling you that if you didn't want to go with him, he was fine with it. And you just texted him back a short; have fun!

But still, you couldn't help but feel completely different, with this strange feeling and a knot in your stomach at having this distance with him.

But he didn't text you again for anything else.

Even also on that same day you saw Helaena, who told you again how sorry she and her mother were still. You also saw Aegon, but he just kept walking, acting completely unconcerned and as if the dinner had never happened.

And now, with things weird and distant with Aemond, today is the trip to Dragonstone.

You assume that you and Aemond will continue to pretend, since there was never a definitive statement where both he and you said you would no longer pretend. But since that night he told you about the party, he and you haven't spoken again.

There's really no plan for the trip. You don't even know if he and you will do this together, as a couple. You just don't know anything.

But you recognize that the two of you made a contract that includes the Dragonstone trip and also ending the fake relationship until graduation. So you prepare yourself despite the circumstances.

Besides you won't be alone, as Alysanne has also signed up for the trip, who just now is keeping you updated on all the things going on in her life as you both drag your respective suitcases along.

"But I don't know if I should say yes to him yet."

You let out a sigh, already feeling tired as you feel the weight of everything in your suitcase. But you can't really blame yourself because it's an all-weekend trip to the beach, so you should have brought everything you needed.

"To who?" you ask with the breath you're gathering, as you tighten your grip on your suitcase.

"Didn't you hear everything I said?" she inquires, "To Cregan."

"Ah… and why don't you know?"

"Well, you know…" she gives you a knowing look, "I don't know, he seems too perfect to me and there must be something wrong with him," she raises her index finger at you, "And he's too popular for my liking."

You frown, still walking as she does, heading toward the buses in the school parking lot that will take you all to Kings Landing port.

"Wait," you say confused, "So he already asked you out?" you look at her slightly surprised, struggling to keep up.

"Yeah," she says casually, "But I don't know."

"Oh come on," you look at her serious, "He's very nice, handsome, funny and a gentleman."

But she grimaces, showing her skepticism.

"Not exactly my type."

You roll your eyes, amused.

Then you both stop behind a line of people waiting to board one of the buses while one of the teachers notes on a list the students' attendance by asking for first and last name, so you have to wait.

"I think you should go out with him," you say, turning to look at her.

"Uhh…" she stares into the void, thoughtfully and doubtfully, "I don't know, bestie."

"He's a good match," you try to convince her, encouraged, "Besides he's already completely crazy about you."

"That's the problem," she sentences, "I'm not looking for a serious relationship right now. It seems better to me that we both just go out, have fun together and nothing else, no strings attached."

"He probably won't refuse the idea," you shrug, "But tell him and don't leave him waiting with his hopes high."

She snorts, gesturing with her hand.

"He's a man. I'm sure he can handle me never giving him an answer."

You let out a laugh.

"Don't be mean, Alysanne."

"What?" she looks at you innocently.

"Come on, you can do better than that."

"No, I don't think so."

You both let out a laugh now and are about to say something else to him, when a third voice interrupts you in conversation.

"Y/N?"

The two turn their heads and walking towards you, it's Aemond, with a somewhat unsure and nervous posture, which is totally unusual for him, but he's still watching you completely attentively.

He's wearing a white t-shirt and a black jacket over it, which makes him look ridiculously good for a common outfit. But what also catches your attention is how he has a silver chain sticking out from around his neck.

And God… why are you suddenly so nervous about being in front of him?

"Do you have a minute?"

You look uncertainly at him and then at Alysanne, having no idea what to say, further increasing your nerves.

"Hum—

"Go," Alysanne says to you, "I'll wait in line for both of us."

"Oh… all right."

You reply, smiling a little in her direction, only to walk over to Aemond and both of you step back a little so you can talk more privately.

And it's at that moment that your heart starts beating like crazy and you bite your lips, crossing your arms over your chest, nervous and a little… embarrassed.

"Listen," he starts to say, in a low and soft voice, "I just want to say that I'm really sorry for the way I reacted the other day," he tells you sincerely, "I'm sure I made you feel uncomfortable and to some extent trapped but believe me that was never my intention. Nor was it my intention for things to get weird between us."

"Yeah, yeah, I understand, don't worry," you nod, trying to hide your nerves and trying to look unconcerned, you too wanting to put this behind you, "I'm sorry too for trying to end it all that way."

"No, it's not okay," he assures you, "I just didn't understand anything and got frustrated," he admits to you gently, "And that wasn't right of me. Now I know how overwhelmed you must have felt with everything that happened."

"I-I guess I got scared and that was the easiest way I could think of to end it all when that wasn't right on my part either. After all… we have a contract—

"The contract thing doesn't matter," he interrupts you with a nonchalant gesture, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, "The important thing is that we're both okay and that we don't distance ourselves from each other."

You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of relief at hearing his words.

"Yeah, you're right."

"So… everything good?" he asks you completely attentively.

"Yes, all good," you assure, wanting to put any misunderstandings behind you.

He is about to say something when one of his friends calls out to him from the line to board the bus.

"Aemond!"

You both turn your heads and his friend along with the teacher in charge watch him intently from the bus doors.

"I need to see your signed permission form, son," the teacher tells him.

He nods and goes back to watching you.

"I'll see you inside," he says before walking away towards his friend and you nod.

You walk back with Alysanne to the line and watch Aemond just a few feet in front of you, talking to the professor, and then he and his friend carry their bags up to the bottom compartments of the bus, eventually moving up the line.

And God… this is the sense of relief you so desperately needed to finally feel. Knowing that you're going to do this with Aemond, all about Dragonstone, relieves and excites you.

However, you should have assumed that even then things would get weird, because the feeling doesn't last long when you see Floris approach Aemond and the two of them start talking.

At first you don't think anything of it, but then, you see the way Floris approaches and behaves towards him.

A tingle of jealousy begins to bubble deep in your stomach as you watch the two of them talk. You also watch as some students watch the two of them and then you, standing apart, with curious and mischievous looks, surely waiting for the drama.

It's as if everyone knows what Aemond and Floris once were, only to then watch you, the new girlfriend, fade into the background after Floris has returned to school.

And Aemond's behavior towards you comes back to your mind.

He himself told you that he did not expect to see her again, so on another plane and in other circumstances, if Floris had not left the school, you are absolutely sure that Aemond would have required her help, totally.

And this between him and you would never have happened.

And maybe… Aemond is still interested in Floris, just as she seems to be still interested in him. But he can't do anything about it because he already has an agreement with you, he's stuck with you.

This relationship is fake, remember?

Your mind tells you, since for Aemond it's not real, but rather pure convenience, just an act, but for you… it's getting harder and harder to ignore the feelings that arise inside you.

Is it possible that your feelings are more real than you have allowed yourself to believe?

You watch as Aemond seems to want to subtly pull away from her to have his own space, but Floris moves closer again, as if they both share something that only the two of them know and that's why she has the confidence, even though he has a girlfriend, to act that way with him.

Which only makes you more annoyed and jealous.

But finally the line starts to move forward and you decide you won't give it any more thought. What's the point of worrying about something that, in theory, isn't real?

You board the bus behind Alysanne, where everything inside is full of excitement and energy, with students talking and laughing as they settle into their seats.

Then your gaze almost instantly meets Aemond's as you look at the seats, sitting in one of the first seats with the seat next to him empty, watching you intently and with a small smile on his lips, clearly waiting for you.

The temptation to go sit next to him is strong, but you decide to ignore it and keep walking behind Alysanne, passing him. And that instantly makes him react.

"Hey, hey," he quickly stands up and gently takes you by the arm, watching you with his soft gaze reflecting bewilderment, "Where are you going?"

Your nerves dissipate and you try to come up with a good excuse.

"Hum… you know, to sit with Alysanne," you point to your friend.

He follows your gaze but frowns, confused.

"But don't you think we should sit together?"

You stay silent for a few seconds, watching him intently and nervous, trying to come up with a better excuse. But he speaks again, trying to convince you.

"I packed snacks for both of us on the way and thought maybe we could watch a movie or something."

"Maybe on the way back," you say with an apologetic look, feeling the weight of his gaze on you.

And he frowns slightly, his gaze reflecting a mixture of disappointment and confusion as he tries to understand your behavior.

The two of you a few moments ago spoke, the two of you apologized to each other and you especially said that everything was okay or not? That's what keeps him confused, not understanding why the two of you are suddenly continuing this distancing, noticing your efforts to pull away from him.

"Come on," he insists, "Let Cregan sit with her."

"I'm sorry, Aemond," you say, "But I promised her I'd sit with her."

He seems to want to argue back, but you waste no more time and finally walk past him, moving away from him straight toward Alysanne in one of the seats almost at the back.

Aemond with a serious look sighs resignedly, feeling the disappointment inside, confused and with disillusion, not really understanding anything.

And when you arrive together with Alysanne, just as you take your seat, you look back to where Aemond is with a worried look and at that moment Floris appears, stopping in front of him with a small sweet smile on her lips.

"Will someone sit here?" she asks politely even though she already knows the answer, her tone with a familiarity that makes you stir in your seat.

Aemond turns his gaze back to you with a mixed expression of seriousness and disappointment before answering Floris.

"No," he replies with some annoyance, dropping back into his seat with a droopy attitude.

Floris complacently takes a seat next to him and you watch everything from afar, telling yourself that this is all a bad idea, with a swirl of emotions all over you.

So all the way to King's Landing port begins, where you distract yourself listening to music and avoid looking towards the seats where Aemond is with Floris.

At all times you feel this uncertainty and this unpleasant feeling that does not leave you in peace, even makes you feel sad, but Alysanne by your side manages to distract you in some moments.

Until you finally arrive at the port and in organized groups, the teachers make sure that all the students board the ferry that goes directly to Dragonstone.

Everyone around you starts taking pictures and videos of the wonderful view the ferry offers of Blackwater Bay, excited to get to Dragonstone.

And you start looking for Aemond with your eyes, finding him leaning on the ferry's railing with one of his friends next to him, both talking, but he has a more thoughtful expression as he gazes out at the ocean.

Despite being surrounded by people and his friends especially, he is distant. And you know he's like this because of you.

For one reason he asked to talk to you and clear up what happened between the two of you. You assured him that everything was fine and then pushed him away.

But can you really blame yourself?

You're fucking scared.

And for a reason Floris acts that way with him, because whatever there once was between the two of them, it's not over yet, you can feel it. And you have no right to reproach him for that because this is not real.

Still… it's better for you to start slowly pulling away from him and put on a show when it's really necessary. But how will you be able to do this together when things are like this?

That's why the uncomfortable feeling on the bus persists and Alysanne tries to distract you by taking pictures of the view, a selfie of the two of you together or by herself.

But despite these efforts, you can't stop thinking about Aemond and watching him from time to time.

Until the ferry finally docks at Dragonstone Island and the students begin to walk ashore with their suitcases in hand, full of excitement and high expectations for what awaits them this year on site.

And since you have never visited Dragonstone before, you watch in complete awe and amazement as the majestic and imposing modern castle stands before you almost on the water's edge.

It looks like a living museum, offering the relics of Old Valyria and its history, paying homage to the ancient house Valyria, a royal family that once ruled Westeros with the legend of having tamed dragons in their Reign.

The entire castle is made of stone, as well as its surroundings and all it has to offer.

And once inside, everything is majestically structured and spacious, with architecture of royalty, preserving that touch and the one that many decades ago a royal and powerful family lived here.

With a male guide, who is also chaperon of this 'excursion', he welcomes all the students and begins to guide them through the main corridors of the castle.

You are amazed to see the numerous display cases with ancient swords that had forged the history of the Valyrian house, as well as other possessions, be they wardrobes or jewelry of gold, silver and other precious stones.

There are also portraits of the ancient Kings and Queens who had ruled, as well as portraits of princes and princesses with the name, date of birth and date of death.

Being your first time in this place, it is obvious that you are excited compared to other students who have come here before and just want to have fun.

But you sense how the atmosphere is steeped in history and mystery. So you can't wait to learn more about this history that was in an ancient and legendary world.

"For those who don't already know, there are various activities you can do during your stay on the island," says the guide man, "You can enjoy the beach and swim in our crystal clear waters, but you can also dive with professional instructors to explore the coral reefs and marine life, as well as we also offer surfing lessons for beginners."

"I want to try surfing," Alysanne says next to you, without both of them letting up, and you watch her in surprise.

"Really?"

"I don't plan to dive, I feel like I'll go crazy with claustrophobia with so much suit and gear on me, not to mention you can't talk," she tells you with a grimace, "And swimming is so boring. I want something more exciting."

"And you can handle that?"

"Please, I can handle anything," she says with a certain superiority, making you laugh, "And what do you plan to do? Obviously not surf but then what?"

"Hum…" you think about it for a moment, "I don't know, maybe I'll visit the huge library and learn more about the history of this place and the whole Valyrian family."

Alysanne looks at you completely expectantly and showing you how much your answers have bored her.

"Are you serious?"

"We also offer a tour of our small aquarium located in the depths of the castle, where you can see a variety of fish and sea creatures," he man goes on to mention, "And lastly, we offer rides on our yachts and scooters along the coast, there are also paddle boarding lessons along our peaceful canals that meander through the island."

You look back at Alysanne beside you.

"Or maybe I'll join the paddling classes," you say with a shrug.

But that only makes Alysanne look at you like you're a hopeless case, sigh, and continue moving on, not telling you any more about your plans or she's afraid it will make you feel bad.

And you let out a little laugh, since of course you also want to enjoy the beach and also want a yacht ride.

And as all the students continue to move forward and you along with them, you still feel the tension between you and Aemond, who is moving a few meters ahead of you with his friends.

Despite the beauty and excitement of Dragonstone, still this uneasiness continues to weigh on your being.

First night at Dragonstone and you've already been left alone.

Alysanne stated that she wanted to enjoy the luxurious bathtub in the room to immerse herself in a relaxing spa experience, so that's what she's doing now before starting the rough activities tomorrow.

And meanwhile you're stealing snacks from the huge kitchen since you've prepared one night of movies for yourself, which isn't a bad plan.

So with your pajamas on, you go back to the room, thankful that you didn't have any awkward encounters with anyone. In fact you were hoping to run into him, but that hasn't happened and you have no idea where he must be.

So with your snacks in hand and in the huge hallway where your room is located, you struggle a bit to open your door with your hands full, when someone enters the same hallway where you are.

"Hey Y/N."

You turn your head and meet Cregan, causing you to place a smile on your face in his direction.

"Hey Cregan."

He watches you with a small amused smile.

"Do you need help?"

"Well, I-I…" you try one more time, but everything is about to fall out of your hands, "Yeah," you finally agree.

He helps you with your snacks and also opens the door for you, then watches you curiously.

"Are you preparing one night of snacks and probably watching movies with Alysanne?"

"No," you reply laughing softly, "No, I—

"Ah, so you're going with Aemond to the hot tub," he interrupts you in a casual tone, assuming.

Confused by that revelation, you try to process the information, but before you can even pretend and react, which you really don't and remain silent like a fool, he notices and looks at you slightly confused.

"Oh, well... on my way here saw him alone in the hot tub and thought you were going with him."

And just then it happens.

Something snaps inside you.

An overwhelming sense of need overwhelms you from head to toe, you can't help it and you can't take it anymore.

You need to talk to someone about the truth and release everything you've been accumulating these past few days. But you know that if you do that, you would be breaking a contract rule.

But the thought of still holding all this in and not being able to talk to anyone about what's really going on is unbearable.

Alysanne would freak out and you have no one else to talk to. It's not like you have a lot of friends. So thinking hard, you quickly map out a plan in your mind and decide to confide in Cregan.

"Do you have a moment?" you ask with a lump in your throat.

Cregan gets confused and looks hesitant.

"Well, I—

"Alysanne is relaxing in the tub, she won't be out of there for a while and I really need to talk to someone about this," you plead.

And that's enough for Cregan to walk into the room behind you as he sees your face like you're about to explode and you tell him everything.

And God, it's a complete relief to be able to speak freely, without the pressure of keeping up the farce.

And you start by explaining to him why you decided to fake a relationship, and then tell him these feelings that you can't ignore anymore, as well as explaining everything you're feeling about Floris and how things are between you and Aemond.

And by this point, Cregan is very comfortable sitting on your bed, eating from your snacks while you wander around your room talking freely about everything that comes to your mind and he listens attentively.

"I'm completely crazy, aren't I?"

You watch him completely frustrated and looking for support, as the ideas and thoughts keep coming uncontrollably into your mind.

"I mean, this is fake," you clarify, waving your hands as you speak, "This wasn't supposed to happen, he just asked me for help and I asked for something in return to accept. And he clearly doesn't feel the same way I do."

You look at him in exasperation, worried.

"And I know I acted wrong with him this morning on the bus but—" you sigh, "You should have seen how he reacted when he saw Floris at school again. This whole thing with Aemond probably wouldn't have happened if Floris hadn't left school, it's obvious there's still something between the two of them and that makes me feel… so upset and so jealous when I shouldn't!" you exclaim frustrated, "And I find it best to just stay away from him so I can stop feeling all this and my big mouth won't even think of telling him how I really feel."

"Y/N—

"I'm right, right?" you don't let him speak, watching him completely intently and worriedly, "I'm crazy."

Cregan smiles softly in your direction in an attempt to comfort you and shakes his head, as he takes another bite of a chocolate bread.

"No, not at all," he replies sincerely, "You're just being honest with yourself and me."

You stop in front of him, fiddling nervously with the fingers of your hands.

"I had to blurt it out," you say dejectedly, "I'm so confused. And you have to promise not to tell anyone," you tell him instantly.

"I promise," he tells you instantly too, nodding.

"So what do you think?"

He lets out a long breath before answering, watching you calmly and quietly, preparing in his mind what he will tell you next, while you wait desperately and anxiously.

"Listen, I think it doesn't matter that the two of you have been pretending all this time, but Aemond likes you, a lot."

He assures you and your heart leaps, parting your lips and watching him completely intently.

"I've seen the way he stares at you—

"Have you already forgotten that all this time we've been pretending?" you interrupt him in exasperation.

"And you think you can fake a look of love if he's not really in love?" he asks you, expectantly.

You let out a sigh, bringing a hand to your forehead, massaging your temples.

"That doesn't matter, I feel he still has feelings for Floris and I'm just another fool who fell in love with Aemond Targaryen," you look at him hopelessly, "And if you think about it, it's embarrassing."

"Okay, let's analyze the facts," he says confidently, incorporating himself better on the bed, "The fake relationship was his idea, you set most of the important rules and you're the one who wants to end the relationship, but you're here locked in your room preparing a movie night for yourself alone while he's waiting for you in the hot tub," he tells you condescendingly while pointing at the door with his thumb.

You watch him completely attentively, almost hesitant and unsure, thinking about it.

"And if you think about it precisely, yes, Aemond and Floris had something but it was nothing serious, he later went back to Alys and now that he erased Alys from his life, there is you and no one else," he explains to you, "Floris' return means nothing because he could have told you that it was better to end the fake relationship when he saw her again, but he didn't tell you anything, it was you," he assures you, "And yes, maybe you fell in love first, but eventually he also fell in love with you and harder."

Cregan's every word hits you like a wave of revelation, making you rethink your perceptions and doubts.

Maybe, in the midst of all this confusion, conflict and your doubts, Cregan is right.

Maybe Aemond really is in love with you, despite the fake relationship, Alys and Floris… maybe he is and the thought is as overwhelming as it is comforting.

If so… then what will happen?

You don't know but wanting to find out excites and scares you at the same time.

"Do you think he's waiting for me in the hot tub?" is the only question you can utter out of the thousands in your mind, watching him hopefully.

"Of course," he gives you an obvious look.

So you waste no time.

You leave on your pajamas of silk shorts with a tank top of the same fabric and throw a coat on over them. It's not really cold but the air here on the island is frosty enough for you.

And as you step outside a part of the castle where the hot tub is located, with your heartbeat echoing in your ears, you are greeted by a cool, salty breeze that caresses your skin.

The hot tub area is illuminated by a series of lights hanging from the ends of the trees, creating a calm and relaxing atmosphere. But what stands out the most is the blue light of the hot tub.

And there you see him.

You focus on the lone figure of Aemond as you move forward, who has his back to you, gazing off into the horizon, thoughtful while also distracted by the bubbles the hot tub is making around him.

You pause for a moment, watching him from a distance, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness fluttering in your chest.

The silver chain around his neck shines with a soft glow from the blue light, adding a touch of mystery to his profile, just as his white skin glows slightly from the glint of water on his skin.

The sound of the hot tub echoes in place, as well as the ocean waves outside and with nerves blocking your mind, you finally approach him, with quiet determination.

"Mind if I join you?"

You say to him with some insecurity and in a soft tone, hugging yourself, nervous and attentive.

Aemond turns his head towards you and his eye meets yours.

And if his gaze reflected surprise, he quickly turns back to an unexpressive face and without saying absolutely nothing to you, where you also tried to smile a little at him, he turns his gaze back to the front.

And you don't let it get to you, at least not yet.

"What? Now you're going to ignore me?"

And thankfully that's enough to make him talk to you. At least a little bit.

"Oh now I'm the one ignoring you?" he retorts bitterly, without even looking at you, "That's funny."

And he continues to turn his back on you, without saying anything else, to which you let out a long breath and without giving up yet, thinking about what Cregan told you and also considering your feelings, you approach him.

With hesitant steps, you climb the steps leading to the entrance of the hot tub and approach the edge, feeling the warmth of the water and the gentle steam rising in the air.

Feeling Aemond's gaze on you, you take a seat on the edge and dip your feet into the water as you return his gaze, which makes your heart pound in your chest again.

He is completely beautiful.

And the words don't come out of your mouth as you are hypnotized for a moment watching the flashes of light on his serene face with his flawless skin and those features that make him look so handsome.

But you finally focus.

"Well, I'm sorry this is my first trip here and I have no idea how to do the activities when you didn't even offer to guide me," you foolishly try to justify yourself.

"Oh and now I'm supposed to guide you after you ignored me on the bus?" he inquires.

You feel the blood rise to your cheeks and look away for a moment, embarrassed.

"Well, I thought I should do you a favor," you admit sheepishly, not really knowing what to say.

And you just had to say that?

Your mind reproaches you.

"Favor?" he repeats in confusion, "What favor?"

"It's obvious Floris is still interested in you," you explain, "And you and she had a thing in the past so was it better for her to sit down with you or not?"

Fucking fool.

Your mind keeps reproaching you, but you don't know why you had to say that either!

And you know it was really bad as Aemond makes a gesture of exasperation on his face and shakes his head as he averts his gaze from you and stretches out both arms to the edge of the hot tub.

"You know?" he starts to say in a frustration-laden tone of voice, watching you "For being such a good student… you can be really dumb sometimes."

You frown, bewildered by his words.

"What?"

"I wanted to sit with you, Y/N," he tells you in exasperation, wanting to make you understand, "Not with Floris or anyone else, just you," he says, his tone softening as he looks at you intently.

Oh.

Yes, oh.

Now you feel stupid and of course you should feel exactly that way.

And as Aemond's words echo in your mind, you feel a mixture of emotions inside you.

On the one hand, a sense of relief and joy finds its way into your chest as you hear his sincere words and know that he wanted to be with you. But you are also overcome with a slight embarrassment at your initial lack of understanding.

And because of the same nerves and how stupid you still feel, a soft laugh escapes your lips at his confession.

"So, Floris…

You let the words float in the air, as you watch him with that insecurity in your gaze.

"Floris was just a one time thing in the past. She doesn't interest me anymore," he assures you gently and firmly, completely honest.

You both remain silent for a moment, only hearing the bubbling of the hot tub, where you mostly admire how the blue light reflects all over his body and face, looking so fucking good.

Not to mention he has no shirt on.

You can feel the electricity in the air as he watches you with his face softer compared to a few moments ago, there's also almost adoration and hope, all just the same way you're watching him.

Then you break the silence.

"I'm sorry I didn't sit with you on the bus," you say sincerely.

And he makes a nonchalant gesture with his hand.

"It's all right."

And once again, silence envelops you as you both sink into the intimate and complicit atmosphere that surrounds you.

Then once everything has been 'cleared up' somehow, you sit up and take off your coat, to begin soaking in the hot tub along with him, causing him to watch you attentively and in confusion.

"You're going in your sleeping clothes?" he asks in a doubtful tone.

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," you reply, stopping in front of him and allowing yourself to enjoy the shared quiet and intimacy along with the warmth of the water.

You watch as his gaze sweeps over your body, mostly focused on watching the way the water envelops you in just the same way he does and you don't stop, as you position yourself right in front of him, your face inches from his.

And already starting to feel a little embarrassed by his burning gaze on you, you say the first thing that comes to mind.

"You know, I've never seen you without that chain," you say, feeling your knees bump against his thighs.

He smiles slowly, showing off his perfect aligned white teeth, marking each cheek with his beautiful dimples, having a knowing glint in his eye that is reflected as he inspects your face.

"It's part of me," he replies, in a soft, deep, husky voice than usual that sends shivers down your spine, "But I think I might make an exception tonight."

And before you can fully comprehend his words, you feel Aemond's hand on your thigh from under the water, sending a surge of electricity through your body.

Surprised, he makes you sit on his lap, while his other hand rests on your waist, drawing you to him gently but with remarkable determination, surprising you and making you feel instantly nervous.

You place your hands on his shoulders, seeking stability, as you watch him with your parted lips, seeing that the space between the two of you no longer exists.

The intensity of his gaze and the softness of his face take your breath away for an instant, reminding you why you are drawn to him in the first place. And a mix of emotions overwhelm you as you realize how much you've been longing for this moment.

Then you both shorten the little distance that separates you and finally you feel the sweet contact.

With no one around, no one else's eyes on you, just the two of you alone here, you kiss.

A slow and deep kiss, where you feel Aemond's lips soft and warm against yours, making you let yourself go and move closer to him if possible, taking one of your hands to caress his cheek.

And his body responds to your caresses, pulling you closer towards him as if he can't get enough, settling better into his lap and tilting his head to the side, deepening the kiss, where his hands run down your back, causing his touch to cause electric currents through your body.

Then you both pull away a little with a wet sound from their lips and you watch him directly into his eye, unable to believe this is actually happening, where Aemond breathes through his mouth and brings one of his hands up to your cheek, watching you intently and with that lazy smile.

"What?

With a small smile on your lips, you shake your head.

"Nothing," you reply in a soft tone and that makes him smile a little more, starting to trace your cheek with his fingers and your face with his gaze.

"You don't know what you're doing to me, love," he murmurs against your lips, his voice hoarse, "The way you make me feel… it's indescribable."

His words wash over you like a comforting warm wave, spreading throughout your chest and causing a sensation to settle in your lower abdomen.

His hand on your thigh slides all over your skin, producing shivers as he pulls you even closer and your whole body trembles slightly from the intensity in his desire as he shortens the distance again and his lips seek yours with a hunger that matches what you are feeling.

And in that moment there is no doubt or hesitation, only the overwhelming certainty of the connection that exists between the two of you. And just like him, you let your actions speak for you and everything you are feeling right now.

You deepen the kiss, as you lose yourself in the intoxicating rhythm of his kisses and your fingers gently glide over the skin of his face and run along the contours of his jaw.

"This wasn't in the contract," you murmur against his lips, agitated.

"No, it wasn't," he tells you just as agitated as you are, catching your lips with his again.

Then your other hand comes down on his bare chest, tracing his muscles and feeling the heat of his skin against yours, sending an electric shock that ignites a burning, fierce fire throughout his body.

Aemond moans against your lips and brings one of his hands to the back of your neck, tilting his head and holding you exactly where he wants you, while his other hand travels between the skin of your thighs and your lower back.

Then you decide to move on top of him and his breath hitches as he feels your movement and you too feel a tingle in your crotch.

Both he and you can feel the tension grow between the two of you and suddenly it is as if the world has vanished, existing only him and you with this moment of pure connection and desire.

And with each caress, you feel yourself falling more and more under the spell, lost in the intoxicating, indulgent pleasure you begin to experience. And with his heart beginning to pound, his caresses become more daring and urgent.

You too move with more purpose on top of him, beginning to feel a bulge grow just below your nerve center that caresses him and makes you feel so good.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks against your lips.

"Please don't," you sentence, kissing him again.

You gasp against his lips and you both begin to gasp, feeling Aemond's chest rise and fall every instant, just like yours. And with the warm, comforting water enveloping you both it only makes it feel better.

You run your hands through his hair, pulling it away from his forehead to lean into him and continue kissing him as you continue to roll your hips on top of him, when he pulls away from you and begins to leave a trail of wet kisses from your cheek and down to your neck.

All your skin bristles and you let your head fall back, giving him more accessibility.

"Fuck," he murmurs hoarsely into the side of your neck.

And you lean into him again, kissing him, wanting to feel the caress of his lips on top of yours.

But then when the need and desire begins to build to a pace where Aemond thinks he won't be able to stop afterward, he decides to stop right there, pulling away from your lips and making you stop moving.

"Wait," he says to you in a low, husky tone, breathing through his mouth.

You look at him slightly confused, just as agitated as he is.

"What's wrong?" you say with your heart pounding in your chest as you take a deep breath.

He tries to catch his breath, closing his eye and resting his forehead against yours, still holding you above him.

"We can't," he says with some frustration.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to feel confusion and uncertainty invade you, watching him intently.

"Why not?" you ask in a whisper, still leaning into him.

He lets out a long breath through his nostrils, clearly fighting against the hardness beneath his shorts and keeping you on top of him in a way where you don't touch him or he'll go completely insane.

But his silence only makes you worry and think things that really aren't.

"Or is it that you don't want to do it with me?" you ask fearfully and with embarrassment starting to creep up on you.

"What?" he quickly looks at you, "No, no, that's not what I mean, of course I want to do it with you," he answers you quickly and completely honest, "But we can't do it here."

He points his gaze around you, to again look only at you with that intensity, revealing a mixture of his desires and his inner conflicts.

Oh.

A sense of relief washes over you as you realize it's not rejection, but concern for the circumstances.

"Ah… right," you say with a mixture of embarrassment and relief, also briefly glancing around you, "Sorry, I hadn't thought of that."

Aemond looks at you tenderly, his gaze softening with a mixture of desire, vulnerability, and what you think is love reflecting in its depths, then pulling your face towards him again.

"It's okay, we'll find another time," he assures you, his tone comforting.

You smile softly as you place your hands on both of his cheeks and he kisses you deeply again, causing you to melt into his arms and let yourself be completely carried away.

You feel embarrassed by your misunderstanding, but also grateful for his concern and consideration.

And you don't know exactly how long you both lasted inside the hot tub, just kissing and nothing more, occasionally playing with the bubbles, sharing an intimate and special moment together.

"I missed you," he murmurs against your lips, leaving a soft kiss that makes you smile.

"Me too," you confess, kissing him again.

And though desire still burns between the two of you, you both know it's best to wait and save that moment for a more private and suitable place.

You still don't know what the fuck happened.

But what you do know is that you went to sleep with a silly smile on your lips and at dawn, you put the same silly smile back on your lips as you remembered everything that happened.

However, surprise and fear also flooded you after remembering exactly everything you and Aemond did.

The two of you were going to have sex.

You were going to have sex with him in a hot tub.

You didn't even care about anything, the fact that they were out in the open, the fact that you weren't physically or mentally ready or even the fact that you and he weren't even real boyfriend and girlfriend.

But you wanted to do it, God, you wanted it and badly.

He was even the one who had to stop everything when on another plane, you probably would have done it, but no. You weren't thinking, you were completely drunk with pleasure and now shame is the only thing you feel all over your body.

You can't even tell Alysanne because of the shame and because you know she won't stop laughing at you. You even plan not to leave the room to avoid running into him. But Alysanne makes you go with her to her first surfing lesson.

And ready for the day as you walk with her down the stairs to the main lobby, you think about how if things with Aemond were already weird and awkward before that moment, now the two of you won't even be able to see each other's eyes.

But to your surprise, that's not what happens.

There are several students and teachers already in the lobby when you see his characteristic silver hair, but before you can react and even think, Aemond walks towards you with a small smile as soon as he sees you and kisses you, surprising you since you definitely didn't expect that.

And of course you noticed the look Cregan gave you both, but more to you specifically, but you just told him with your look that you will talk to him about everything later.

And so you start your activities in Dragonstone, with Aemond.

Of course you first keep Alysanne company in her surfing lessons and after she is totally focused on that, you and Aemond spend time together.

Under the golden sun, painting the horizon with warm hues and golden sparkles on the ocean waves, you both enjoy a walk along the shore of the beach, enjoying the salty air and the sea breeze that envelops you.

You talk about everything and about almost nothing at the same time, him being the first one to dare to hold your hand while you enjoy your little walk, making the blood rise to your cheeks and you enjoy like every teenage girl in love these little moments.

Then you both play a game of volleyball, where you both laugh and have fun as you immerse yourselves in the game.

And clearly from running around so much in the intense sun and getting almost sweaty, you get the idea that you both should swim a bit and surprisingly Aemond doesn't refuse the idea, even though he doesn't know how to swim, but you offer to teach him.

In a gray two-piece bikini, you lead him out into the waves, explaining how to move in the water and breathe properly, causing him to begin to gain confidence and enjoy the sensation of being carried by the waves.

But of course after that would come the laughter and playfulness, both laughing and talking while enjoying the sun and the salt water.

And in that moment, the fun turned into an intimate moment as Aemond holds you by the waist, pulling you closer to him. There is a silent intention in his gaze as he touches your skin with his burning hand and you don't pull away, on the contrary, you lean towards him.

You wrap your legs around his torso and his lips press against yours in a deep kiss, losing themselves to each other in the middle of the sea.

And when you both separate, you look at each other with a mixture of shyness and affection, while Aemond places a damp lock behind your ear, feeling a pleasant sensation that he can't quite describe envelop him, especially at the moment when you again leave a soft, tender kiss on his lips.

And with beaming smiles on your faces, you both get out of the water and go upstairs to your rooms to bathe and change your clothes.

But then the two of you meet again and he accompanies you to explore the castle together, marveling at the ancient relics and all the history that surrounds the place.

He also accompanies you to the library to take some photos and to the roof terraces where you get magnificent views of the whole island.

And in the castle's aquarium, you both find yourselves surrounded by fascinating sea creatures, sharing tender moments together as you watch the fish swim around.

The sea creatures seem to dance in the water, their bright colors and movements mesmerizing you as you walk among the tanks.

And as you both move through the exhibits, Aemond more than anything couldn't resist hugging and kissing you, expressing his affection in every gesture and you of course didn't mind.

"You are beautiful," he murmurs against your lips, watching you with that bright glint in his eye as he watches the reflection of the sun and water on your face, creating an aura of serenity and beauty around him.

The blood rushes up to your cheeks and you smile shyly, feeling so silly.

"You are beautiful too, Aemond Targaryen."

You lean towards him and leave another soft kiss on his lips that he reciprocates instantly, taking you by the waist and bringing you completely closer to him, wanting to keep touching and kissing you.

But you both continue the little tour holding hands, where you also take pictures together and of everything you see around you, wanting to capture these moments.

And even though he and you haven't really talked about anything, this doesn't feel like you're both pretending. This feels real and you like the way it feels when you are with him, being completely honest and genuine with your feelings.

Then the day goes on as normal and as expected, after doing all the educational activities in a certain way, it's time for the party.

"There will be my friends, Cregan, my sister and well, Alysanne if she wants to come too," Aemond tells you as you both head towards your rooms.

"I'll convince her to go," you assure him.

"Okay, I'll see you in fifteen minutes then."

"All right," you smile at him.

He leaves down a different hallway from the one you're heading down since each of your rooms are separate and you're focused on getting ready for this party.

You don't know how, but he and his friends have arranged to take a yacht for the night. Obviously they are not going to ride around in it with the night sky, but apparently they have everything ready for everyone to drink and enjoy a while.

Fortunately you convince Alysanne and the three of you soon arrive at the yacht that is stranded in the west harbor of the island, where Aemond's friends are already there, getting everything ready.

Then the music plays, the LED lights turn on and the drinks begin to be served.

Sitting on Aemond's lap, you didn't think you'd have as good a time as you're having now, laughing and talking to everyone, occasionally hugging and kissing him.

And fortunately nothing unfortunate or unpleasant happens, there is only the company of your friends and you enjoy Aemond's presence, clinging to him at every opportunity, hugging him and singing some songs with him like everyone else, having a good time.

And fortunately in the following days there is no activity you don't do with Aemond, even now if you go for a yacht ride, where you can perfectly see some students and also Alysanne practicing surfing.

You also cheer up with the scooter ride, just like him, completely enjoying the moment and the experience.

And you honestly don't want any of it to end.

You want everything to continue to be perfect.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @iloveallmyboys