#aemond one eye
Text
Secret teamwork
a request from my lovely @slytherincursebreaker ♡ thank you so much!
Summary: Having a non-commited relationship with Aemond is hard, but as you find yourself pregnant, it might just be harder.
✧Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader
✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, MENTIONS OF ABORTION, p in v sex, pregnant sex, dom and sub undertones, fingering, boss/secretary adventure, slight degradation kink, slight praise kink.
✧Word Count: 6.02k
Aemond placed his own hand around your mouth, to keep your little squeals and moans away. Your pencil skirt all the way up to your hips, it was almost funny, as Aemond kept you seated atop of one of the broken tables in the storage room of the building.
“A-Aemond!” You press your hands on his chest, moving the hand on your mouth. “You are… going to be late!” You whine.
“Let them wait” he says softly, his hand pressing against your mouth as his right hand is between your legs, tormenting you as he likes.
He is knuckles deep in your pussy, and he watches your expression as you mewl, holding on his shoulders for dear life. This is probably one of the things he enjoys most in life; tormenting you to his delight. Having you drool and moan like a wanton whore, and how your cheeks get red from the effort to be quiet.
Your pussy might be one of his favourite things, how warm and wet it is for him. Gives him a sense of power as he knows that he can have you melting on his arms just by fingering you.
He knows the effort you put to look nice, your face of makeup, your hairstyle, your little outfit. He loves to mess it all up. If it wasn’t for the presentation with affiliates of the company of his family, he’d probably be fucking you with no problem.
But he cannot risk not being presentable as he is the main speaker during the conference. He has a lot of things to explain, and he prefers not risking his image.
“Shh, shh, moaning like the little whore you are” he says, smirking, as he tries not to allow any little scream to get out loudly. “Come on, baby, delight me. Cum on my fingers” he says, saying sweet nothings in your ear along with it.
Your big nervous eyes, looking at him as he covers your mouth, is a sight that he doesn’t want to forget, truly.
He is hard, and he hates how he can’t do anything about it. He just looks at you and tries to give you all the pleasure he can’t get.
“Wanna show me your little moans, baby?” He asks as you nod, and he can picture your pout as your eyebrows go up in a needy way.
You feel his thumb, going in circles around your clit. It is probably the most delightful thing he does, because it is always precise and pleasurable, as if he has perfected his technique to be at its very best.
Your grip on his shoulders, as he liberates your mouth from his palm, and you let out a sob of pleasure, trying not to scream so loudly, because if you did so, it was over for you and him.
He relishes himself in the little moans and whimpers, in the way your pussy clenches around his three fingers, and he kisses your lips; his hand on the back of your neck is firm, keeping you in place as he kisses and plays with your tongue.
“Open your mouth” he whispers, and you look up to him, knowing exactly what he is up to.
You love how he can dominate you so easily. Most men had to make an effort to try to look dominant. Aemond had it naturally.
He spits on your mouth, making sure to look at you as it falls on your tongue, and the way your pussy clenches as you swallow.
Gods, you are soaking wet. He knows you are close by how loudly your wet pussy sounds as he fingers you, and the little mewls you let out as you press your forehead on his shoulder lets him know that you are losing composure, and your legs are becoming numb.
“I need it, you know that… Give me good luck, baby…” he says softly, and as you let out a loud moan, your thighs squeezing his hand, he leans down to capture your lips on his.
He knows how you need tenderness after cumming. You are prone to become sensible, and more these days, when you always need reassurance.
He kisses you, sloppy and a bit urged, but not too messy. His tongue makes its own way on your mouth, and he can feel how you are trying to keep up as you let out a muffled loud moan, and he can feel how your walls involve his fingers as you cum.
As you rest your forehead on his shoulder, he takes his fingers out, just to suck them to enjoy your taste, even if it is just a bit. It drives him wild, but he has to restrain himself and nothing makes him more frustrated.
He rubs your back, as you pant loudly, holding the edge of the broken table, which luckily didn’t break further. He moves to watch the hour on his expensive clock, and he still has twenty five minutes to arrive. He sighs, knowing that he cannot put it on hold any longer.
“We have to go” he says softly, and you whine, not wanting to.
He moves a bit back, and you let your head fall down as you try to relax your breathing. He makes you lean slightly back, your hands hesitantly going back on the table to hold your weight.
He moves your panties, which he moved and made sure they remained on the side, so it doesn’t bother his work. He places himself between your legs, as he looks down and both of his hands move to accommodate your panties gently, without a hurry. His fingers tentatively caress your clit, but don't press their luck.
“Come on. We can go to the bathroom and get presentable again” he whispers, grabbing your hand, pulling you to your feet.
The heels you wear are probably uncomfortable, and he sighs, suppressing the urge to roll his eye. He pulls down your carefully ironed pencil skirt, and he tries to make it presentable again.
“You didn’t bring other heels?” He asks softly.
“No” you murmurs, looking at him with tired eyes.
“Gods, woman.” He says rolling his eye “I am going to start to buy you comfortable shoes and leave them in my office, so you don’t have to wear those things”
“It is protocol” you say looking at him, as he takes your purse and hangs it on your shoulder.
“I am the boss. If I want you to walk around naked or in pyjamas, it is my call to make” he states softly, and he leans to kiss your cheek lovingly. “Come on”
He grabs your hand, and you follow him quietly, as he makes sure no one is around as you two walk, hand in hand to the bathroom.
He goes into the men’s bathroom and you to the opposite.
He is quite meticulous, and so your appearance isn’t messy or ruined. If something, you look exhausted. You reapply your red lipstick, and put a bit more mascara. Not too much, you don’t wanna look vulgar either.
You place some loose hairs back into position, and accommodate your clothes again. You sigh, looking at yourself in the mirror.
The secretary and her boss. You think, as you press your lips together, nibbling the inside of your mouth.
Once you go out, Aemond was outside waiting for you, using his phone to probably answer some texts.
“Ready” you say, and he looks flawless once again. If he had an erection, there is no trace of it. He is truly surprising, like a little box of mysteries.
“Let’s go then” he says as he looks at you, hesitating before walking away and pressing the elevator button.
The way to the auditorium is silent. He checks his phone, and you check the little agenda where you write down everything he has to do.
“Westeros' investors group will be here” you remind him. “And so will the Yi Ti’s empresarial boss, as you know…”
“Uh huh” he agrees. “Will my half sister…?”
“Yes. Rhaenyra will make her appearance as the heir of…”
“Don’t”
So you don’t. “Edyr Karstark will be as well” as the lift doors open, he walks out and you follow him. “Coryanne Dayne and Morgan Martell as well, from Dorne…”
You walk with him as he stops, and you see his mother and grandfather waiting for him at the door.
Aemond looks at them, sighing. He turns to you, and you have to take a moment to move your gaze away from them.
You see the posture of Alicent straighten as she looks at you, as if squinting her eyes slightly. She holds her arms, her green dress is elegant and she looks intimidating. Otto Hightower makes no effort to hide his disgust, and he looks at you as if his eyes could throw daggers at you.
“Don’t mind them” he whispers to you “They just…”
“Hate me” you finish for him, accepting the fact.
“They… It’s just complicated”
“I am the whore who lies with my boss for his money.” You say the words that his family thinks but never say out loud.
“You are not… You are more than that” he says softly.
You walk behind him, as he goes to greet them. You always follow him everywhere, most of the time. You take care of the tiny details of his work life that he didn't care about. Learning names in meetings, learning the interest of the people to help him. Reminding him of his busy schedule.
“Aemond” his mother greets him, a kiss on both sides of his cheeks.
You two becoming closer was just natural, you’d told your friends. You two were single, and you spent more time with him than in your own home. And otherwise.
It was not long ago when his sister and brother found out about you two, and so his mother knew naturally, and so did his father, grandfather, half sister… It scared you to death.
Alicent had talked to you about quitting, how easier it would be than a scandal. You never could realise if she was saying this from the goodness of her heart or to keep you away from his prestigious son.
Otto Hightower was more direct, as he presented you with a letter of dismissal, which Aemond had to defend you. It was embarrassing, but you just… liked him, to endure his odd family.
“Hello, miss” Alicent says, and Otto greets you as well. You force a smile, and nod a quick greeting to her. “They are all waiting for you” she murmurs, and looks at him. “Your father has come for this, as well”
“Ah” he says, you can see how his mouth turns down in disgust.
“It is well prepared” Otto adds “It is fine work. If your project is approved, those months in Yi Ti will be all for you”
You look at your hands at the reminder. You won’t be going along, and it was a bit odd. On purpose, if even. But you have never said it outloud, less to Aemond, because it was truly an amazing project.
“If you could bring me a glass of water…?” He asks you, and you nod.
You walk to the presentation table, looking at the people around, chatting and greeting, no one really watches you. You take some of the bottles and pour it down in a glass for him, walking to the door, as you almost stumble against Alicent and Otto.
“I wanted to thank you” Alicent says, and you stop a bit confused, looking at her. “He wouldn’t have done it so smoothly. You two do a great teamwork”
It is half a compliment, you guess. She is trying, at least to be cordial. “Thank you”
You are quick to escape, and you watch Aemond at the door waiting for you. He doesn't seem too nervous, he never reveals his feelings so easily.
“Thank you” he says, in a softer voice. Drinking a bit of water, leaning out to see the people inside “I’ll remember those names you said. Any particular… thing you recommend me to say?”
You look at him, and say “Well, a greeting is much more welcomed than just starting speaking.” He looks back at you, and he nods softly “And look at them in the eyes”
“It is them who don’t see me in the eye.” He says trying to be funny.
“I am serious” your lips curl up, and add “Don’t be nervous. No one here knows more about it than you. And try not to fight”
“You know me too well, for my disgrace” he says smiling. “How do you feel about that great bonus in your next check?” He asks slightly amused.
“Feels like the Gods have take mercy on my soul”
You move to take a little lint on his shoulder, dangerously close in public. He isn’t one for public displays of affection, less with you.
Perhaps that’s why his mother and family disapproved more than if you two were something. You were his secretary, and him your boss. Not partners, no compromise.
It makes you anxious, sometimes. How could you even ask him? Not that he would take advantage of his power position over you. It wasn’t about asking your boss what exactly you two were. It was about asking him, Aemond Targaryen, what he truly felt about you.
You could find another job, but you couldn’t find another him, another Aemond.
“You’ll do fine. I made sure there is water, and those mint sweets” you tell him. “The control of the presentation is ready, and there are no cables for you to stumble on. The table is seated so your blind spot doesn’t face the public. It is rotated so you can read the presentation as well, so don’t worry.”
Aemond looks at you, looking inside for a moment before wrapping one arm around your body, pulling you both out of sight as he leans to kiss you passionately, for a few seconds.
You kiss him back, if anything a bit surprised about his bold action. As he pulls away, he is quick to recomposture himself, and smirk.
“I don’t have lipstick on?”
“No…”
“Good” he says with a smirk. “Go and take a seat. You have earned it”
With that, he walks inside. You blink, a bit flustered and surprised. When you look inside, you see Alicent Hightower watching you, all tense up, sitting next to her husband, who is talking to Rhaenyra. She saw you.
You were about to be sick. You turn around as a gag comes out of you, covering your mouth, yet you don’t feel the disgusting feeling of something coming up your throat. Perhaps because you have not eaten anything today.
You try to act normally, as you walk to sit at the side of the window, looking at the cars in the street passing by, as you hear how the conference is to start.
“Where is he, again?”
“Probably Yi Ti right now” you say, sitting on the kitchen counter as Amanda prepares the lasagna.
“And he got funds for this? Like his rich family couldn’t just… allow him to borrow money?”
“Doesn’t work like that” you say amused.
“Ha. I know” Amanda says, chuckling. She was one of your ex coworkers, and you used to have lunch with her everyday, before she quit for a better job. “How is he?”
“In what sense?” you ask, looking at your margarita yet you haven’t drink any of it yet, too occupied in the chatting.
“Happy, I mean. I don’t think I have ever seen him… Happy. Or smile. Have you?”
“Yeah” you say smiling at how silly that question is. “Duh.” You say rolling your eyes.
Amanda turns on the furnace as she waits for it to get a bit hot before putting the lasagna, and she looks at you.
“And did his family was there? His mum? The Alicent Hightower?”
“All of them. Viserys, Alicent, Otto, even Rhaenyra. Helaena went for moral support” you say chuckling.
“And what about the mistress?” she asks, raising an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes.
“Alys Rivers?” You ask her. “I think she was there…”
You try to shrug it off, but it boils your blood the thought of her. More with her story with Aemond, how intimate they had been. It makes you gag.
“Oh, it burns you from the inside!” She giggles, and she places the lasagna inside the oven. “Is the Margarita good? I haven’t tried it…” she asks, moving across the kitchen to take a sip.
“I will try it…” you say, moving your straw around, and you are hit by the hard scent of alcohol.
“It is good for a drink bought in the supermarket, you know? I waited for…”
“I am going to throw up” you say standing up from the seat, as you make your way to the bathroom of her house.
Aemond has been gone for maybe two weeks at this point, and you keep on gagging at smells, of any disgusting kind. There were only four things you relished on; the smell of the mints that Aemond liked, gasoline, hot dogs and coffee.
Throwing up is not nice; the first time is because of the sickness, and the rest is purely out of disgust for the vomit.
You wash your mouth, and try not to leave her bathroom with the scent. Once you come back, you see that Jasper, her fianceé, has arrived.
“Are you okay?” Amanda asks, as she walks over to you. “You love Margaritas, are you not sick? Oh! Is that restaurant where you went with Aemond to the triumph meal?”
He made you accompany him, with his family and associates, to a dinner that his grandsire organised, in an expensive restaurant, after the triumph of having his project accepted and founded. You vomited all the food at night, probably because of the lobster.
“It was over two weeks ago” you say, shaking your head. “I always get sick when I am about to get my period. Being irregular has its disadvantages ”
“Oh, I get that feeling” she chuckles, going back to the kitchen as her finaceé is drinking her margarita.
You stand still for a few moments, and you realise the possibility. Probably the reality, as you had all the symptoms... it made total sense, and you stood frozen as you realised.
You were pregnant.
It is two months later when Aemond comes back. Half of his project has been completed, a total success. But his business in Yi Ti was more than done, and the oriental atmosphere was too much for a Westerosi man like him.
He was not surprised with your resignation letter as he came back to the office, which was why you wouldn’t answer any of his texts or calls. Three weeks into his journey, he got your resignation letter, accepted by his grandsire, which only needed his signature.
He called, and called. And nothing. You probably ghosted him, and he called Helaena to check on you. He didn’t trust his mother or grandsire.
According to his sister, you just needed to let go of some things of the past as you realised you had more ambitions than being a secretary.
On Friday, he is in your apartment. The building was old, and it had barely four floors, and you lived at the end of it. He has stayed in your apartment once or twice, but mostly he just passed when he dropped you off.
Luckily, he comes at the time where the old lady of the first floor is getting inside with all the supermarket bags.
“Let me help you” Aemond says as the lady is struggling between managing the heavy bags and opening the door.
“Oh, thank you, young lad” the woman says, as he takes all the bags from her arms. He enters first, and waits for her to walk, very slowly.
The woman opens the second glass door to enter the building, and she stops at the mailbox, checking for her apartment number.
“You want me to grab yours too?” The sweet lady asks, and Aemond hesitates.
“Uh, sure. Thank you” he says, and in the silence he realises he has to say the number “41” he remembers the number of your apartment, and the lady grabs the mail for today.
They make an exchange, where he leaves the bags in her house, and she gives him the mail. She is sweet and Aemond has a smile as he has to go all the way up to the fifth floor.
He is not one to spy, but you have a lot of mail. Mostly about some subscriptions you made, he is curious to see if you have anything from your new job.
He stops, mid stairs as he watches the pink envelope. A woman’s choice.
He hesitates a bit, before he pulls out his phone. He remembers that. Helaena and Rhaenyra both made a contribution for that clinic, didn’t they? It was the woman’s building of the hospital in Visenya’s Hill. He walks slowly upstairs, he is midway the third floor, as he walks up slowly.
He searches for the name of the clinic, and he hates how bad the signal is. He sees the three dots moving, loading the page slowly.
His stomach drops as he reads. Pregnancy termination clinic.
He doesn’t understand anything.
He stands frozen, with phone on one hand as he holds the envelope behind. His mind is racing. He knows you are not subscribed to it just because. He hasn’t heard in months about you, and he doesn’t know what to conclude about this information.
It feels an eternity before he knocks on your door. Once. Twice. Nothing.
He doesn’t hear the wood crack under your weight. It was painfully obvious when someone stepped on it, he remembers one time when he dropped you at your house, drunk, and you both laughed at how silly it sounded at every step you both took.
He missed you, he realises. Scratch that. He knew that he missed you, but not that much for his heart to ache like that at the memory. He misses you. He feels incomplete.
You open the door, obviously expecting anyone but him.
You are wearing a black hoodie, using a face mask, probably orange scented. You always made sure to be well looking in the sense that you took care of your appearance.
You look different. He blinks slowly, as he looks at you, frozen in his place. He isn’t normally so stiff, he is usually more straightforward, a man of business.
“Aem– Mr. Targaryen” you say, a bit surprised. The way you refer to him stings.“You are back. To what I owe the pleasure?”
It is at the same time that you realise that he was holding your mail, as his eye trails down to your hidden stomach. Your clothes are too big to realise, which only makes him more confused, and suspicious. He can’t see anything to confirm, but it is unusual, you don't like to wear these kinds of clothes.
“You… quit” he says, dumbfounded.
“Yes. Nothing personal” you say tapping your fingers on the door. You were anxious. “I am sorry if it came at a bad time.”
He looks at you, as the lie comes naturally to you.
“Can I come in?”
Your place is a bit messier. He knows something is up. You move your hands to take off that stupid face mask, and your face is all shiny from it.
“I am not really… I was not expecting… visitors”
He was more than a visitor, and you knew it. You missed him. He looks as handsome as you remembered. You didn’t go to the airport, but you kissed him farewell in his office.
“Are you… pregnant?”
You blink at your boss. At your something. At your baby daddy. At Aemond Targaryen.
He can see the little panic in your eyes, and he lets a scared sigh. He covers his mouth as he looks at the side.
“I should have been with you” he says regretfully, and his heart feels at the floor. “I was away, and you…. You should have been so…” he doesn’t know if it is useful to say it, it was probably traumatic to you. “Forgive me. If there is anything…”
You hear his heartbroken words, still holding the door as you blink. “ thank you…”
“We are still a team” he says, looking at you. “We… we always had been. I would have dropped everything to be with you at that moment”
He looks at you, so calm and collected. He feels like losing his mind, and he feels pure guilt. He wants to ask you. Why didn’t you tell him? Why didn’t you? He knows it is selfish to ask, but it was also his mistake. He would have helped you, held your hand and all of it. He would have been prepared, read about it, to comfort you in the grief, all of it.
“And forgive me for… spying on your mail, I just wanted to see if you had a new job…” he says, extending the mail, embarrassed and vulnerable. You have never seen him like this, it is almost scary.
You take the mail, and you see the pink envelope first, among the white ones. It was atop, and you looked at him.
“Maybe you should get inside” you say, moving to let him in.
He sits on the couch, and you sit by his side. The silence was crushing, and so you speak.
“I should have told you..”
“I understand-”
“Let me speak” you say, and he shuts up. He looks at you, and you keep talking. “I… I didn’t get an abortion, Aemond” you say softly, looking at him, at how his expression changes, trying to get the words in.
“What?”
“I just… It was an option. I was… I was scared. I am still, a bit. But… I want this baby” you admit softly, not looking directly at him, as you so shyly admit your feelings to him.
He is confused. “You… You didn’t?”
“No…”
He leans back on the couch, breathing hard at the realisation. He might faint, he has gone through many emotions in little time.
“So you are…”
“Still pregnant. Very much” you confirm, and he lets out a sigh. “And… you are the father”
Aemond bites his lips on the inside of his mouth, and he looks at the ceiling, passing a hand over his face.
“Oh”
“Yeah…” you say, at how stiff he is. “Three months and a half.”
As you stand to grab your wallet, he thinks. Three months and a half back, it was probably the time when he had so much work left, that he fucked you in his office. Or was it the time where you two fucked over the cabin?
“Here” you say showing him the ecography picture.
In the middle of the black part of the ecography, he could see the curled up little figure. He looks at it, as if it would disappear if he moved his gaze away. It is wonderfully diminutive, yet it fills him with pride, seeing something so little that makes him feel so many things.
He missed it. It was the most important ultrasound, and he missed it. He wasn’t there to hold your hand either, when you took all the exams to determine any genetic syndrome. He should have been, right at your side, to be part of it as well.
“It is… wonderful” he says, with a small chuckle. “You think, I could… get a copy?”
It is the subtle confirmation that you didn’t expect. He wanted this, as you did. You never talked about having kids, less so when you were never anything serious.
“Keep it” you say softly. “I already took like hundreds of copies, you can keep it.”
It is a surprise that he sobs, and he looks at the image.
“You… Oh, gods..” he says, feeling utterly hopeless as he watches the little paper. He is going to be a dad, it was so… odd. “I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have left..”
“I didn’t either” you say.
He looks at the image, he doesn’t even cry on purpose, just some tears falling naturally. His thumb moves to caress the paper, as if it was a soothe for him and the baby.
“You quit, how are you… affording all of…?” He makes a gesture. Everything, he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to be invasive.
“I have a part time job at a friend’s coffee shop.” You say with a nod “And a fair bit of savings”
He looks at you, shaking his head as he feels his tears dry. He was thinking so many things. He is going to be a dad. He has not contributed anything. He has to take care of you. And the baby. He has to help you. He was going to be a dad.
“you shouldn’t have quit. It was a stable, good paid job, and the office has great maternity leaves.”
“And would they give me more months because my boss is my baby daddy?” You ask, not from malice, but he bites his lip.
“They told you to quit, didn’t they?”
“Nobody told me” you assure him.
“They paid you.”
“They didn’t. I wouldn’t have accepted it”
“Why didn’t you tell me, then?” He asks, almost heartbroken.
You look at him, nervous, and you don’t dare to look him in the eye. “I did the maths, Aemond. You didn’t seem the type to… you know. Compromise”
He looks at you. It was right. He wasn’t one to show his emotions. It was probably the first time someone saw him cry, since he was like twelve, and he always made sure to keep a distance between him and the rest.
“I am not.” He says softly, looking at the image, and he sighs. “But… you and I are a family” he says, licking his lips. “and we will always be a family, with… them” he adds, pointing with a tilt to the ecography.
It is a haunting truth, that you knew. You’ll always be bound to Aemond. A scary thought.
“We will. But I want to know, what are we?” You finally ask him. Decisively, you need to know.
“You have my body and soul” He admits softly, and he bites his lip. “Both of you. I am committed to you two…, always. Always, of course. There is no one else I want, that I choose.”
You truly don’t know how or when you end up in his lap, kissing softly as he holds you on it. It is different from his dominant demeanour.
He is almost rewarding you with caresses and kisses, holding you gently. He would do anything you ask him to, and he is so afraid to lose you two. He almost did, both of you, and he doesn’t want it to happen ever.
He holds you as if you were fragile, and to this moment you are; he holds both of his most precious things, and you carry his baby.
“I am not going to break” you say against his mouth, pressing a little tighter. “I need you” you add, your hot breath on his mouth as his hands presses in your back.
“I need you too” he admits, as he accommodates on the sofa to hold you. “Here or on the bed?”
“Wherever…”
The bed it is.
He held you all the way there, which was not a long way either, but it is good to be in your bedroom, where it smells like you, and some strange mint scent that reminds him of the mints he eats.
“Look at you, baby” he says as he takes off your clothes, eagerly, and desperate. “So beautiful as always, dripping wet for me” he says, and you blush slightly from his compliments. “aren’t you?”
“yes. i am”
“how am i even going to go on with my work when you are not there to indulge me a bit?” He asks, as he is the one to desperately take off his clothes, as you lean against the pillows, watching him. “When the idea of leaning you on my desk was enough to make me finish all of it quickly, and call you to my office.”
He accommodates behind you, both of you laying as he kisses your shoulder, and then your nape, and leaves soft love bites, not meant to last long.
“But now you’ll just wait for me at home, hm? In my own bed, all for me” he says and you search his lips and share a sloppy, messy and wet kiss, needy and primal.
You missed him. You needed him.
The pregnancy hormones drove you insane. And missing Aemond was something your little babe was sure to make you feel it at all times.
“Yes, yes, I need you inside” you feel his hand, moving to wrap your waist, and he moves behind you, holding your leg with his other hand.
He cannot wait to see you heavily pregnant. You have a little belly, which is adorable. He supposes that, as he was, the baby will be small too.
But he craves for when you’ll need his help to do anything. And he’ll delight himself in it.
“you missed me?”
“So much” you turn your head, for your arm to be around his neck. It is probably a twisted position, but he is not one to complain.
His lips capture yours as his cock finally slides into you, you moan against his mouth, and his grip on your body tightens a bit. He is going insane.
He is ruthless at every thrust he gives you, and you surely are more tender at each movement of his cock in your pussy. The time apart, or your hormones, he didn’t care, as he immerses himself in pleasure.
“So big” you moan against his mouth, and his hot breath hits your mouth as well. “I love it”
“I love you too” he says, his face nuzzling your cheek as he doesn’t think too much about what he just said, and just focuses on the way your cunt clenched around him, warm and soaked, a very warm welcome.
He holds you as precious as you were to him, but firmly, tightly. His hips swing as his cock moved and makes it’s way in your pussy, the little way his cock throbs inside, leaking the precum inside.
“You already marked me. Everyone will know that i am yours– so fucking yours…”
The thought makes him moan. He always loved that, making you go out of his office full of hickeys and love bites, sending you back to your desk all flustered and shaky.
“Hm, you love that, don’t you? They can’t fuck you like I do” he adds smugly, as he presses open mouthed kisses on your neck.
You moan as his fingers search your clit, and are quick to find it, and he groans at how receptive you have become.
“I’ll fuck you so hard, baby. So, so hard” he promises, for the future. For now, he just needs you. “Such a good girl. Always a good girl”
The way you squirm, and your whimpers drive him into release as well. Your legs always do that thing that he knows very fondly, they shake and your muscles tense up when you are cumming, in a very certain way. It is almost always the same, and he has grew to find it endearing, everytime he fucks you he waits for that moment.
He thinks he is much simpler, he holds you closer to him, as if forcing you to remain there, as his balls tighten and he cocks throbs before cumming deep inside. He lets out a loud groan, rolling his eye back as he holds you.
The way you two remain naked, yet laying together it is something he never does usually. With you, a few times. He always tends to you, and made sure you were relaxed. But you never did pillowtalk after it, you usually were exhausted and he was tired too.
“You know what? It is almost unfair” he says, moving to search his pants.
“Oh?” You ask curiously, as your eyes follow his frame. You don't get what he means exactly, but you wait for him to elaborate.
“I brought you a present. Well, I brought two things–” he finds it in his pocket and extends it to you, and you smile upon the realisation.
“oh, Aemond…” you say looking at the bracelet, and you smile at him. “It must have been… so expensive”
“It is your favourite colour” He points out “Isn't it?”
You nod, as he moves to leave it in your nightstand, just to pull you closer to him.
“You have given me more… expensive gift” he adds, moving to your side again, and he wraps his arm around your waist, leaving one of his hand to rest atop of your belly, firm and growing. “Thank you”
You see the gratitude in his eye, and you smile softly. “Well, to be fair it is a product of very extensive teamwork…”
“It truly is, hm?” He asks, smiling as he moves to your side again. “We truly do make an remarkable team”
#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader smut#aemond modern au#house of the dragon#aemond smut#hotd fanfic#aemond targaryen x you#aemondtargaryen#aemond targaryen#ewan nation#aemond the kinslayer#hotd#prince aemond#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#ewan mitchell#modern aemond#modern aemond targaryen x reader#modern aemond#aemond one eye#aemond#request#⁀⊹requests
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Good As Gold
summary | You found yourself the object of the Prince Aemond's stares, the reason why, you knew not. (based on this request)
pairing | aemond targaryen x lady-in-waiting!reader
tags | fluff, awkward ooc aemond + shy reader, aemond has zero game, awkward courting, a spider is the ultimate wingman, Aemond With Kids!!!
wordcount | 4k
note | semester's over, i am FREEEE!! here's the first non-queued fic in over three weeks, so happy to be writing again! this one's short and sweet, and is the unofficial prequel to Sweet, Wonderful You! this is still a standalone fic but i wrote this with that fic in mind.
likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! <3
(divider by @zaldritzosrose)
The prince was staring again.
His gaze was sharp, prickling your skin while you tried to ignore how the hairs on the back of your neck stood from the weight of his stare. You stood beside your princess, the quiet Helaena, while in court. Your fellow ladies-in-waiting whispered and gossiped under their breaths, but you could only listen, your body paralyzed under the constant stare of a certain one-eyed prince.
You knew not why he had taken such an interest in you; if you could even call it that. In your moons as his sister’s lady-in-waiting, you barely spoke a few words to prince Aemond, mostly in the form of formal greetings when your paths crossed.
You came to King’s Landing with your father in hopes of finding a suitor for his only daughter. With your arrival, the queen welcomed you into the service of being one of princess Helaena’s ladies, spending your days with your fellow young women– sewing, singing, and accompanying the princess. When you were not called to your duties, your father introduced you to noble lords. You smiled and charmed them to the best of your abilities by your father’s bidding, which put you in many of the men’s good graces. There seemed to be no shortage of bachelors and unmarried lords within King’s Landing, both young and old alike, and so there was also an abundance of gifts delivered to your chambers. Be it flowers, books, or fabrics, there was always something new each day. The most extravagant gift you have received was a set of jewels, much to your astonishment. It was unclear who sent them; there was no letter from the sender and the servant kept his lips closed when he brought the present to your door. You couldn’t accept such fine jewelry with no idea of who it was from, and so you gently returned the present to the servant, sending your apologies to the mysterious suitor.
The prospect of your marriage held little priority in your mind, blissfully enjoying your days with your sweet princess before you were to be whisked away by some lord. It was no secret within the court of the attention you have been receiving from the many lords of the Keep. You were young, quite fair, and the daughter of a respectable House, and many were vying for your hand.
Perhaps that is why you have been subject to the heavy weight of prince Aemond’s stare as of late. Perhaps he thought the whole thing ridiculous, he was a prince of the realm, and it was beneath a man like him to spare any minute of his day wasting his time courting a girl like you, yet still, he stared.
You always felt it– at court, in the halls, even in the gardens. You wouldn’t dare confront him about it, but it irked you nonetheless. Did he know something about you that you weren’t aware of? Was someone spreading vapid rumors about you? Or worse, did he know of the time you had accidentally stepped on one of Helaena’s critters when she had gone to feed her babes? But you were alone!
Your thoughts ran wild as you walked to the princess’ apartments after she had called for you. The princess was heavy with her third child and often had no energy to entertain all of her ladies. Most days she only called for you, her favorite. You were much like her in a sense, quiet and reflective. Helaena enjoyed the moments when you both sat in silence, working on your embroideries or when you read to her while she lounged on the daybed, weary from the changes in her body to do anything else. Today seemed to be one of those days.
Reaching the door to the princess's apartments, the knight standing guard knocked on the door to make your arrival known, before opening the heavy wood for you.
“Princess,” you greeted her with a soft smile, though the surprise in your eyes was barely hidden at the sight of another silver-haired royal in her solar.
“Prince Aemond.”
You curtsied to the prince who rose from his seat at your entrance. He only greeted you with a nod, the familiar sensation of his gaze upon you tingling your skin almost immediately.
“My apologies, I did not mean to intrude,” you started, but the princess only waved her hand in dismissal. She was only clad in her shift, her swollen bump covered by a robe. Her legs were extended on a footstool, and the exhaustion in her face was evident from the crease in between her brows.
“Nonsense, my sweet. Come,” she beckoned you over. Prince Aemond moved away from his spot beside his sister to let you sit beside Helaena, settling on the settee opposite yours. The young babes, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, were on the carpet playing with dragon toys while their nanny watched.
“How are you feeling today, princess? The babe isn’t giving you much trouble, I hope?” you asked her. Helaena could only sigh, caressing her belly with a tired look on her face. “He is restless today. I can only hope he comes soon, for I can barely do anything without tiring myself out immediately after.”
“If I could do anything at all,” you offered, your features softening at your princess. She gave you a small smile, patting your hand on your lap and squeezing it appreciatively.
“Having you here is more than enough. Your company is most welcome, and yours too, brother,” Helaena said, turning to Aemond who still sat quietly across from you. The corners of the prince’s lips lifted ever so slightly, a sight unfamiliar to you.
“It is the least I could do for you, Hel.” The prince’s tone was soft when addressing his sister, a sharp contrast to his austere demeanor. Aemond’s fondness for the princess was not well-known within the court, his cold looks and flinty nature preceding him. In the spare moments you found yourself present when the prince visited the princess in her chambers, you caught glimpses of the shift in his demeanor around Helaena. The sight was endearing, perhaps even bizarre to anyone else outside the royal family’s circle. He never stayed for long, departing with a kiss on Helaena’s hair and a formal nod to you.
Today, however, it seemed that the prince found no disturbance in your presence within his sister’s sitting room. He listened along to your and Helaena’s conversation, lifting young Jaehaerys into his lap when the princeling crawled to his feet.
“So,” Helaena started, shifting herself to sit up a little higher in her seat to turn to you. “Did your mystery admirer send you more jewels? Pearls, perhaps?”
Your cheeks burned at the princess’ words, wary of discussing the matter in front of the prince. Your eyes shifted to your lap, toying with your fingers shyly. You missed the way the prince’s good eye flickered to your form for a second, then to Helaena, before returning his attention to his nephew.
“Oh, no. If he did, I would probably send them back again. I have no intention of accepting gifts from someone who does not make himself known,” you explained. Helaena giggled in amusement at your fluster, covering her lips with her ringed hand.
“Why not? I think it is quite romantic!” You only shook your head at the princess, a shy smile lifting your cheeks.
“My affections cannot be swayed by jewels alone, I fear,” you said. Helaena only continued to giggle in amusement, her eyes flickering to Aemond and then back to you. You huffed along with the princess, though not quite catching what she found so funny. A clear of his throat cut through your chuckles, making you turn to the prince across from you.
“If I may ask, my lady, what would make one win your affection in gaining your hand?” Aemond asked. The question took you completely by surprise, leaving you stuttering for words as you struggled to give the prince a proper response.
“W-well…” you stammered, turning to the princess who also awaited what you had to say. “I would like it if he would take an interest in me, as I will with him. If we are to be wed, I would want my lord husband to know what I like, and what I do not like. In return, I shall learn what pleases him and what does not. I would want our partnership to be fair, though I suspect that would be asking too much.”
“It is not,” the prince interjected. “A noble lady of a fine House should have her wants and needs met by the man who should take her as his wife.”
Surprise encompassed your features, taking on a bashful look at the prince’s words. You hadn’t expected him to take such interest in the matters of matrimony, especially yours. Aemond straightened up at the look on your face, awkwardly clearing his throat and turning to a grinning Helaena. “Don’t you think so, sister?”
“Oh, yes of course. I would like to see you happy in your marriage, and I think…” Helaena’s words were cut by a yawn, making her cover her mouth with her hand. Her evident exhaustion was only growing in the late afternoon, making you turn to her in concern.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit, princess? Supper isn’t for a few hours,” you suggested. The princess nodded but made no move to rise from her seat.
“That would be nice, but I would hate to leave Beth alone with the twins, they have gotten to be quite a handful to manage,” Helaena said, but you only responded with a shake of a head and a soft smile.
“I shall watch over the sweetlings happily, princess. ‘Tis no problem at all,” you gently persuaded her. The princess nodded, taking your hand to be helped up. As you accompanied her to her private bedchambers, the princess left a kiss on her brother’s cheek, who held a now sleeping Jaehaerys in his lap. You helped Helaena settle in her bed, lifting the covers to her chest. The tired princess let out a sigh of relief, letting herself relax against the cushions.
“I do hope my little critter is around here,” she mumbled. Your brows furrowed in confusion, asking her what she meant.
“One of the spiders was gone from its jar this morning. I cannot recall letting it out, but I believe it cannot have gotten out of the apartments. Perhaps it is just crawling around.”
You blanched at Helaena’s words, visibly gulping at her words. As much as you tried to indulge the princess in her interests, the little bugs she loved so dearly made your skin crawl. You willed yourself not to squirm every time Helaena made you take one into your hands, the sensation of their tiny legs on your skin unnerving. The thought of one possibly crawling by your feet made you unsettled, your eyes frantically searching the floors when you returned to the solar, so much that you didn’t spare a glance at the prince still sitting on the settee. You didn’t expect him to stay, but he seemed to make no move to leave.
“Is everything alright, my lady?” Aemond spoke up. You slightly jumped at his voice, before quickly composing yourself, flashing him a smile.
“Y-yes, my prince,” you responded. The nanny had taken the sleeping princeling from the one-eyed prince’s arms to return him to the nursery across the hall, while young Jaehaera continued to amuse herself with the dragon toys her mother had sewn together. You kneeled beside the young princess, taking one of the toys and playing with her, much to her delight.
“You are good with her,” the prince spoke, making you turn to him. A bashful smile decorated your lips, closely following the princess who had started to waddle towards her uncle.
“They are adorable, I enjoy helping the princess take care of them whenever I can,” you smiled. Once Jaehaera settled into Aemond’s lap, she immediately took hold of the prince’s long silver tresses, pulling on them. The one-eyed prince merely groaned, but let his niece pull on his hair with no complaint, only pulling them away when she started to place them in her mouth.
“No, no, sweet girl. Qȳbor ōghar iksis daor havor,” Aemond softly said, tickling the babe’s stomach. Jaehaera let out a squealing laugh, making you smile. The prince’s good eye flickered to yours when you chuckled at the sight of them, the corners of his lips threatening to lift at the sweet sound. (Uncle’s hair is not food.)
The young princess held out her arms to you, her small palms opening and closing. You stood from your place on the floor and walked over to the settee, dragon toy still in hand. You sat beside the prince, holding out the plush to the babe. She took them into her small palms, mumbling nonsense as she shoved it into Aemond’s face.
“The babes seem to be quite fond of you, my prince,” you commented, letting out another chuckle. Jaehaera managed to make herself stand up on her uncle’s lap, the prince holding her up by the armpits.
“Not as fond as I of them,” Aemond replied softly, planting a kiss on the babe’s plump cheek. You cooed when she mimicked him, planting open-mouthed kisses on her uncle’s face. The sight was utterly endearing, making you feel a warm twinge in your chest at the sight of the ice-cold dragon prince being melted away by his niece.
Jaehaera soon managed to squirm her way off Aemond’s lap and onto the floor, returning to the scattered toys on the carpet. You stayed seated beside the prince, both of you keeping a close eye on the young princess. A silence encompassed the pair of you, the only sound in the room being Jaehaera’s wordless mumbles. Straightening his doublet, the one-eyed prince cleared his throat, turning his attention to you.
“I am aware your lord father has introduced many suitors vying for your hand. Have any of them managed to please you, my lady?” Aemond asked, his tone formal. You turned to find him staring at you, just as he always does. Your lips lifted into a downturned smile, while your fingers fiddled with your rings.
“They always do at the start, but their attention seems fickle. They ask the same things in hopes of getting to know me, and when I do respond it always floats into one ear and out the other,” you responded, earning a hum from the prince. His good eye flickered to Jaehaera and back to yours, his head giving you a small nod in agreement.
“And I assume the focus of the conversation immediately returns to them— their lands, their riches, yes?” Aemond asked, letting out a dark chuckle when you nodded in earnest. He grumbled something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch, though it sounded like his mother tongue.
“Some of them aren’t too awful, and I am sure my father would want to find a respectable match for me,” you said, though you faltered at your own words. In truth, almost all of the lords who were courting you were absolutely dreadful to be around, and you couldn’t imagine spending a lifetime with the few that you found tolerable. Your hope for a good match was dwindling, making you realize that no fine gift can mask persuade you to make your choice.
“Earlier, you said you wished for your lord husband to be one to take interest in the small details to win your affections. What would that entail? How you take your tea in the morning and such?”
You let out an awkward laugh at the prince’s words, though it seemed he had made no jest when his face remained neutral while he awaited your response. Your laugh died down to a clear of your throat, your cheeks warming in embarrassment.
“Y-yes, that would be a start,” you stammered. Aemond let out another hum, seemingly in thought. You bit your lip, turning away to check on Jaehaera, who continued to be lost in her own world of plush toys and blocks.
“And how do you take your tea in the morning, my lady?”
Your head whipped to Aemond, who stared back at you. In your shock, you gaped at him like a fish, your mind lost for words. The warmth in your cheeks spread over your entire face like a blanket, your pulse thrumming in your ears. His good eye trailed over your face, patient in his anticipation.
Before you could formulate an answer, the door to Helaena’s chambers opened, Beth returning from the nursery. She informed you that it was time to put Jaehaera down for her nap as well, to which you nodded before she took the young princess away. The silence was deafening once the door closed behind the nanny, making you shift in your seat beside Aemond. The prince was the first to break the silence, his smooth voice slicing through the tension in the air.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
“I–” You barely uttered a response when you saw a splotch of black and orange on the edge of your skirts.
Just your luck.
You jumped up from your seat, covering your mouth to mask your squeals so as to not wake Helaena. The spider continued to crawl its way up your skirts, making you shudder in fright. You resisted the strong urge to slap the critter away, your self-control barely kicking in through your panic. You had already killed one of Helaena’s spiders, you certainly were not about to kill another one.
“What is wrong?” Aemond asked, alarmed at your sudden reaction. You pointed to the creature on your skirt. It was hairy, with black and orange stripes. It walked slowly up your skirt on its legs, the sight utterly menacing.
“Spider!” you whispered loudly. In your panic, you failed to register how you had practically jumped halfway into Aemond’s lap. You ungracefully leaned your weight on a hand clamped on the prince’s thigh, making him groan when you squeezed a little too tightly. The position you were in was highly appropriate, but your rational thinking had flown out the window to make way for fear. Aemond wrapped an arm around your waist on instinct to balance you, though you continued to squirm uncomfortably when the spider inched crept towards your waistline.
“Aem– my prince, get it off me, please!” you squeaked, making the prince let out a huff of amusement in your ear. You could only hope you weren’t disturbing the sleeping princess. With a pat on your waist, the prince reached to scoop the critter in his free hand.
You finally let out a sigh of relief when Aemond pulled away to return the tarantula to its jar, calming down when the lid was screwed shut to prevent the spider from escaping once more. You recollected yourself, though you grew flustered once more at the sight of the amused smirk on the prince’s lips when he returned to his seat beside you.
“I take it you do not like spiders, then?” Aemond spoke, turning to you. You were filled with humiliation; your outburst was the most cowardly and the way you touched the prince was highly scandalous.
“My deepest apologies, my prince. That was highly inappropriate, I am deeply ashamed,” you apologized, but Aemond only shook his head.
“No need to apologize, I am glad to help a beautiful lady in distress,” he said, the roguish smirk still plastered on his features. Your cheeks grew only hotter at his words, making you look away from him while he let out another chuckle. Another silence passed, the rush from the adrenaline dying down into something awkward and sheepish.
“You still haven’t given me an answer to my question,” Aemond mentioned. You turned to him once more, and as your eyes met, the prince held a hopeful glint in his good eye, his demeanor turning serious once more while he studied you.
“Why do you ask, my prince?” you asked, though the pieces were starting to fall together in your mind. The prince cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. His eye fell toward your hand that rested in the space between you, his gaze running over the length of your fingertips before resting on the sight of your ring finger, bare and unclaimed.
“I ask because… I want to know what pleases you and what does not, so in return, you may know of mine.”
“What are you saying?” you asked once more, your voice falling into a whisper. You wanted to hear him say it, to witness the words falling from his pouty lips.
“I wish to court you, my lady, to win your affections so I may ask for your hand,” the prince admitted. It was starting to make sense— the stares, his constant presence with you and Helaena.
“The jewels…”
“They were from me,” Aemond confirmed. You could only stare at him in astonishment, at the idea of a prince, the prince Aemond joining the other noblemen in their attempts to win your affections was something you had never imagined. You were confused as to why he hadn’t let his intentions known from the start. Was he embarrassed? Was he being forced by his mother’s bidding? You dared not cage him in a marriage that would displease him.
“I am not good at flattery nor in the ways of courting a woman, especially one as fair as you, my lady, though I wish to make my intentions known now before I lose my chance,” the prince explained, his hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. It was almost amusing to see him so shy if it weren’t for the state of stupefaction you still found yourself in. “I apologize if the jewels were not to your liking.”
“No, oh, they were wonderful, my prince! I just… I had no idea,” you replied. The prince nodded in understanding, to which you gave him a soft smile.
“If I may ask, my prince, w-why me?”
Aemond looked at you for a moment, pondering his words. He couldn’t recall the exact moment when he had first taken an interest in you, perhaps it was seeing you with Helaena and how you brightened his sister’s days, or how you glided gracefully during the dances at the feasts, or when he would catch you in the gardens, soaking in the sun peacefully on your own. All Aemond knew was that you had enamored him, and it would be a great honor to take you as his wife. He struggled to put all of this into words, the ability to express his emotions was not a strong suit of his after all. You patiently awaited his response, bright eyes staring up at him.
“An alliance between our Houses would be greatly beneficial, and your father would be granted a place on the King’s council upon our union.”
Aemond all but kicked himself at his awful response. He saw the disappointment flash through your eyes, your lips muttering a small, “yes, of course,” and he could feel you start to pull away. His palm covered the back of your hand, his larger hand covering the entirety of your smaller one. Your eyes fell to where his touch met yours, its heat engulfing your hand.
“You are a fine woman, my lady. I come to you as a man, not a prince of the realm, and I can only ask for you to grant me the benefit of courting you for your hand in marriage,” Aemond proposed. When you made no move to retreat your hand from his touch, the prince took your hand in his, before lifting it to his lips and bestowing a kiss on your knuckles. A breath was hitched in your throat at the feeling of his lips upon your skin, and you found yourself craving the soft sensation.
“It would be my greatest honor to be your husband. You shall be a princess of the realm, and you will want for nothing. I shall gift you the finest silks and jewels from far and wide, whatever you wish for, I will grant it. You will be well taken care of if you will let me, and we shall be happy.”
Your cheeks burned in timidity at Aemond’s words, ones you had never imagined to hear from him in your wildest lips. Your mind ran a mile in a minute, weighing your options. There was no denying that you found the prince utterly handsome, with his long hair, lithe form, and sculptured face. He was dashing, even more so when you caught him swinging his sword expertly in the Red Keep’s yard when he trained. You would be a fool to deny it, but you were quite taken by him. To be the wife of a Targaryen prince was every noblelady’s dream, a position surely beneficial to your House. Your children will be dragonriders, the thought already making you blush when you thought of the prospect of creating offspring with the prince. You would not have to part with Helaena as well, much to your delight. When you came to a decision, you shuffled closer to Aemond, your knees pressing against his. You took your clasped hands into your lap, rubbing his knuckles with your other hand, before bestowing your kiss upon his flesh. As you looked up at your prince, your lips lifted into a smile, bright and sweet.
“That sounds like the most wonderful prospect, my prince. I would like that very much.”
Aemond’s lips lifted to mimic your smile, before letting out a sigh of relief.
In the days that followed, they were spent with your prince. You watched him train in the morn, walked through the gardens later in the day, and joined him for supper with his family. Helaena let her brother whisk you away from your duties as her lady-in-waiting, waving you off dismissively with a smile when Aemond came to fetch you from her chambers. Your father was most enthusiastic about the courtship, eagerly negotiating with Lord Hightower on the concessions that would come with your union. And on the day it was decided that you shall wed, a knock on your door echoed through your chambers. You opened the door to reveal your prince, holding a present for you. A look of astonishment adorned your features when you opened the box, revealing a shining sapphire necklace.
#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen imagines#aemond targaryen smut#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#aemond smut#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#hotd x reader#aemond targaryen fuff
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— Written on the Body, Jeanette Winterson
#hotdedit#aemond targaryen#viserys targaryen#leo ashton#paddy considine#hotd#welighttheway#targaryensource#gameofthronedaily#dailyhotdgifs#houseofthedragonedit#aemond one eye#house of the dragon#asoiaf#barbieaemondgifs
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The Downfall (Oneshot)
[ Hamlet • dark Aemond x Ophelia • female ]
[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, fingering, virgnity loss, violence, suicide, angst, smut, obsession, remorse ]
[ description: When she attracts the attention of Prince Aemond during the wedding feast of his brother and his sister, she knows that something terrible is going to happen. His figure lunges towards her like black storm clouds and she feels that, along with his desire, he will bring on her downfall. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
My other works: Masterlist
_____
"Tis I who should receive this honour. I, second son, rider of the greatest dragon in the world, experienced in wielding the sword, educated in history and philosophy, 'tis I who should…" He didn't finish, pressing his lips into a thin line. He stopped in the middle of his chamber, not looking at her but at the floor, his eye wide open in rage, his nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.
She swallowed hard, clenching her fingers on the material of her gown as she sat in one of the chairs at the table, fearful of him as usual when he behaved in this way, making her unsure once again how to act.
To endorse his words would have meant betrayal, so she had to remain silent, though her heart was pounding like mad in her chest, a drop of cold sweat running down the back of her neck.
Their betrothal had come as a surprise to her; the prince had caught sight of her at a grand wedding feast held in honour of his brother and his sister, dancing among dozens of other couples.
She dared not look at him, knowing of the arrangements between the Red Keep and Storm's End, not wanting to ridicule herself by begging like some of the women from respectable houses for his attention.
Apparently that was what made his bright, cold, dangerous eye notice her figure and his sight did not leave her until the end of the evening. At first she thought she was just imagining it, then, however, glancing towards the table standing in front of the Iron Throne she met his gaze, his lips curving into a grin that was disturbing to say the least.
She was terrified.
The next day, her father was asked to extend their stay in the Red Keep and enjoy the King's hospitality, though it was not explained to them for what reason.
She was frightened because she understood what it meant and she never went anywhere alone, always taking a servant with her, having heard numerous stories of what Prince Aegon did to women who caught his eye.
She didn't want to see for herself if his younger brother was the same.
It seemed to her that black clouds had gathered over her, that it was a matter of time when something would happen, and indeed, when she came across him passing through the courtyard during one of his sparring sessions, though she turned her head away, his deep, mocking voice stopped her.
"My Lady."
She swallowed hard, knowing that if she didn't answer anything, if she didn't look at him, she would commit a great discourtesy and offend him.
She couldn't afford it.
Therefore, she turned towards him, looking at the ground, seeing only his legs and waist clad in black leather garments, bowing in front of him.
"Your Highness."
She felt for a moment that her heart stood in her throat, the only thing she could hear around her was the clinking of steel and the voices of servants discussing something with each other behind her back. She saw the legs she was looking at move towards her and she closed her eyes.
"What a scared little bird you are. Hm?" He hummed, his voice soft and teasing at the same time, amused, as if he were speaking to a small child.
She swallowed hard and looked up at him – he towered over her with a smirk that was mysterious and unsettling, his healthy eye bright and wide open, his gaze piercing to the core, his lips swollen and full.
She felt herself grow hot with shame.
What was she supposed to answer to such a question?
The prince cocked his head, apparently ignoring her silence, taking advantage of the fact that they were standing so close to each other, watching her as if she were some curious being he had never seen before.
"I watched you dance last night. Did you feel my gaze lingering on your figure?" He asked, and she swallowed heavily, lowering her gaze, involuntarily betraying herself. The Prince grinned under his breath, seeing her reaction.
"You did." He said and looked to the side, as if he wanted to make sure no one would hear what he was about to say, leaning over her ear. "I will marry you."
She drew in the air loudly, shocked and surprised, freezing for a moment, tense, looking at him with big eyes and shook her head, not understanding how he could say such a thing. He, however, only grinned broadly in a way that made her shudder and stepped away from her, turning to Ser Criston Cole, letting him know that they could continue.
Ser Criston gave her one terrified look that told her everything.
She was doomed.
She didn't tell her father about the prince's words because she was convinced that he was mocking her, wishing for certain that she would succumb to him and spend the night with him only to disappear from his life forever. She knew she couldn't let that happen if she wanted to marry any self-respecting lord and decided she would just stay inside her quarters.
And then their betrothal was announced.
There was a feeling of emptiness in her mind as she looked at him, at the wide, mischievous grin stretched across his face as he sat at the table, while his mother, the Queen, spoke to her of the King's decision, apparently persuaded by his son, wondering how she was supposed to tame such a man, tame such a fiery, unpredictable nature.
She was scared.
To her despair, her father had been invited to take on the role of one of the treasurers under the direct authority of the Small Council, which he welcomed with joy. It meant that their family was to stay in the Red Keep, and her betrothed could slowly clamp his claws around her neck.
He followed her like a wraith, sinking her further and further into his darkness, making her slowly melt into one with him, not knowing where his soul ended and hers began.
On the day he was to see his nephews again years later, she locked herself in her chamber, unwilling to watch this theatre of malice and humiliation, knowing what her betrothed thought of them, how often he mused about slitting their throats or gouging out their eyes to later gift them to his mother.
She knew he was furious, wanting to show her off like a pretty object he had in his possession, but she offered him a passive resistance that drove him to the brink of madness.
She drew in a loud breath as he surprised her by silently sneaking up to her chamber at night – she heard the loud creak of the wood beneath his body as he lay down behind her. His one hand took place on her womb, as if he was already imagining in the back of his mind as it swelled from his seed, the other went under her jaw, stroking her skin warningly, his lips against her ear.
"You're hiding from me. You're avoiding me. You move through the keep like a shadow." He whispered, however there was no threat or frustration in his words, which she felt instead in his hand that slowly clenched around her long neck. She swallowed quietly, looking ahead at the night, starry sky outside the window.
She did not answer him.
She rarely used words in his presence.
Unfortunately, this only deepened the state she aroused in him.
A curiosity bordering on obsession.
She tilted her head back and sighed involuntarily, feeling the tickling heat spilling over her lower abdomen as his moist, full lips ran over her cheek, the tip of his tongue leaving a wet, cool trail on her hot skin.
"– I needed you –" He hissed in a trembling voice, pressing his body against hers from behind, his hard, swollen manhood hidden under the material of his breeches pushed against her buttocks, pulsing steadily. Her nipples hardened at his words, a shiver of fear and excitement ran down her spine.
His hand from her womb slid lower, between her thighs, his fingers closed on her womanhood – she knew how he learned these tricks, knew that he had played with whores before he met her, but she couldn't convince herself that she particularly cared.
The delicacy and uncertainty of the movements of his fingers did not match how she perceived him: apparently it seemed to him that one too aggressive gesture on his part and she would fall apart in his hands.
Thus, he merely teased her through the material of her nightgown, waiting as usual for her breath to grow heavy and ragged, for her buttocks to begin to rock to the flicks of his wrist and rub against his throbbing erection.
They both moaned quietly as his hand impatiently lifted the material of her long robe, seeking the warmth between her thighs and finally found it, her pulsing, swollen slit leaking from her sticky wetness.
The fingers of his hand from her neck rose higher, to her cheeks, closing on it in a rough gesture, forcing her to turn her face in his direction – she didn't resist him as his slick tongue burst deep between her lips, as his mouth pressed against hers with a loud, lewd click in a greedy, ravenous kiss that took her breath away.
She let him do whatever he wanted with her lips – he was sucking, licking and biting them, as if he were some kind of animal that had grabbed its prey and wasn't going to let her go until he devoured her.
She didn't care, because her mind seemed to be muffled, as if she was underwater, focused only on the touch of his fingers as they dug into her puffy, delicate folds, teasing again and again her warm, pulsing slit.
Her body tensed like a string, knowing what he was about to do, and then at last the tips of his fingertips broke into her hot, throbbing interior with a quiet click of her moisture.
She moaned a tad too loudly into his mouth, making him sigh deeply into her throat, freezing for a moment, his hard erection slapping impatiently against her buttocks.
"– fuck –" He gasped, startling her completely, letting her go and turning her onto her back, laying on top of her, looking at her with his mouth parted wide, breathing heavily.
She had thought that, as was his custom, he would just simply take out his manhood and make her squeeze it with her hand, touching her at the same time to give her fulfillment.
He, however, after he untied the material of his breeches, grabbed her nightgown with his hands and lifted it above her thighs, making her voice froze in her throat, her hands clasped helplessly on his shoulders.
"– n-no – no, please –" She muttered, knowing that if he took her maidenhood, took what he desired, he would never marry her, would send her and her father back to where they came from humiliated and ridiculed.
"– I need this – I need to feel you –" He breathed out, as if he was in some kind of frenzy, heedless of her helpless attempts to stop him, forcing her to spread her thighs open. She cried out, tilting her head back and closed her eyes as she felt the fat head of his cock begin to push against her swollen slit.
"– no – please, Aemond, please –" She whimpered, raising her trembling hands to his cheeks, stroking his jaw, trying to give him what he wanted, what he was apparently dreaming of in his black, grim mind.
"– you don't understand –" He growled, in a sharp, impatient motion trying to slide deeper into her, opening her little cunt on his throbbing, long erection. "– I fucking needed you today –"
She whined as he forced his way deeper into her body, filling her so much that she felt like he was going to tear her apart from the inside, clenching her fingers against the material of his leather tunic, shocked at how foreign, frightening, painful and exciting this sensation was.
"– I know – I know, just a little bit more – it's almost in – shhhh –" He hushed her, stroking her head with his broad hand as he thrusted his thick root all the way in into her, one last cry of effort left her lips.
She seemed to feel him with her whole being, breathing loudly through her mouth, feeling like she was suffocating, her heart pounding like mad, her whole body quivering in his arms, his lips placing warm, moist, reassuring kisses on her cheek.
"– thaaat's it – there we go – I'm going to start moving now –" He hummed, in a slow, lazy manner beginning to rock with his hips, sliding out of her a little and sliding back in with a quiet click, trying to force her body to adapt to his shape and receive him with greater ease.
He hugged her face to the hollow of his neck, without accelerating or making sudden movements, letting her fingers tighten vulnerably on his back.
"– good girl – calm down and let me fill you with my seed –" He whispered, as if he wanted to soothe her, to reassure her that he took no pleasure in her discomfort and suffering, even though he himself was the cause of it.
She nodded, not having the strength to stand up to him, breathing loudly to relax, to endure what he wanted to do to her. A low, loud groan of pleasure erupted from his lips when he felt it, and his thrusts became a little more sure, deep, loud.
"– g-gods –" She breathed out, feeling with horror that he was teasing a spot inside her from which shivers ran through her, waves of cold terror and hot pleasure surging through her body, causing a complete void in her mind, all she could focus on was the wooden canopy of the bed above her head.
"– yes – ah – so fucking wet for me – all warm and soft –" He breathed out into her ear, licking her hot cheek with his tongue, pounding into her with sharp, deep thrusts of his hips, making her feel the tickle in her lower abdomen, in her puffy lips and in her hard nipples, the bed beneath them beginning to creak loudly.
She felt the familiar hot tension building within her, the tension that he aroused in her when he touched her with his fingers, that, to her despair, she began to take pleasure from this animalistic, simple act of slapping their naked, sweaty bodies against each other.
She tilted her head back and sighed as she let her hips tentatively begin to rock to his thrusts, her hands slid from his back to his bare buttocks, stroking them. He shuddered all over and groaned, blindly seeking her mouth with his own, joining her in a sticky, messy, loud kisses, licking and sucking her lips.
"– yes – yes, just like that, fuck, little one, fuck, fuck, fuckkk –" He gasped, pressing his forehead to hers, slamming into her so quickly and aggressively that he was barely sliding out of her, his thighs slapping against her buttocks again and again, opening her wide on his fat cock.
They both were moaning shamelessly, looking at each other wide-eyed with their mouths open, listening to the shameless, sticky sounds her slick cunt made with each of his thrusts.
"– just a little more – ah – f-fuck, yes –" He groaned in elation, his final, deep, sloppy thrusts prolonging the inevitable, she heard and understood little as a wave of pleasure shook her and something hot spilled deep inside her, their mingled wetness ran down her buttocks.
"– such a good girl –" He gasped, throbbing inside her for a moment longer, filling her with the remains of his spend.
"– Aemond –" She mumbled, feeling her little cunt clamp down on his half-hard manhood, sucking it inside her again and again.
He fell on top of her without strength, panting heavily, and they both remained silent for long time. She finally heard him swallow hard, not even daring to look at her, his face sunk into the hollow of her neck.
"– will you forigve me, little bird? –" He muttered in a weak, deep, trembling voice.
At his question a single tear of sadness, regret and emptiness ran from the corner of her eye down to the side of her face, falling onto his forehead.
He felt it and lifted himself on his arm, wanting to look at her, but what he saw apparently made something inside him break.
He clamped his eyelid shut, swallowed hard and pressed his body against hers, burying his face in the pillow.
She didn't know why her hand lifted and laid on his head, stroking his hair with gentle, calm movements, why she felt a squeeze in her heart, why she wanted to comfort him.
Why she let him stay with her that night, cuddled into to her as if he were a small child.
And then the King died.
Her betrothed walked into her chamber the next day, pale, not looking into her eyes, twitching all over, as if in shock.
"My father is dead…" He began, and her mouth opened wide, looking at him in horror.
"… and my grandfather demands that I marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters."
She stared at him dully, feeling her heart stop in her chest, her stomach twisting in pain as if she was about to vomit.
"I admitted to my grandfather what I did to you. I refused to let him send you away. You will become a Septa. You will be safe and retain your dignity I wrongfully took from you." He said and flinched hard as she grinned at his words, looking at her in disbelief.
"Do you think I'm surprised? I knew you wouldn't keep your word the day I saw you."
It seemed to her that something in her words broke him, for his lower lip began to tremble without the participation of his free will, his eye turned red, his nostrils twitched in heavy, accelerated breathing.
He was unable to get anything out of himself.
On the evening of the day before she was to leave the Red Keep, she demanded that a bath be prepared for her.
She knew he would come to her, she knew his conscience would not let her go without a farewell, she knew he would want to take her one more time before he abandoned her once and for all.
When she was left alone she slipped under the water, sinking her head into it as well, and closed her eyes, feeling strangely calm as the air stopped flowing into her lungs, a shudder shook her body indicating that some part of her still wanted to live.
It was said afterwards that the prince had found her and pulled her out of the water, that he had sobbed and wailed over her bare body, that he had locked her in his embrace, not allowing anyone to come near her, kneeling with her cuddled into his chest on the cold stone floor.
It was said that after that evening he stopped to speak and leave his chamber, staring dully into the fire for hours, playing between his fingers with a lock of her hair, the only memento he had left of her.
It was said that the prince's heart had died with her.
#aemond targaryen#aemond fanfiction#dark aemond#dark aemond smut#dark aemond angst#dark aemond targaryen#aemond fanfic#aemond smut#aemond angst#aemond targaryen angst#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#prince aemond#aemond x female#aemond x female character#aemond x oc#aemond x original female character#aemond x original character#hotd fanfic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fic#hotd smut#hotd angst#ewan mitchell smut#ewan mitchell angst
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EWAN MITCHELL AND TOM GLYNN-CARNEY being interviewed by anuar alum from la cinemafia, in méxico.
— full interview coming soon.
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#hotd#house of the dragon#tv shows#aemond one eye#team green#hotd s2#aegon ii targaryen#king aegon ii targaryen#aemond x aegon#aegon ii#tom glynn carney#glytchell#interview#actors#hotd s2 promo#i love that ewan and tom are promoting together#i love them#green siblings
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Call them ugly bitch, I dare you!
#tom glynn carney#ewan mitchell#house of the dragon#aegon ii targaryen#house targaryen#hotd#house of dragons#aemond targaryen#a song of ice and fire#aegon ii#aegon targaryen#king aegon#prince aemond#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#aegon the second#hotd aegon#hotd cast#team green
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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝
𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥!𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You're a medical student with the perfect family and friend group, your friend recommends a Pen Pal site and you are paired with the most unlikely person, you decide to give him a chance but what will it cost you?
Warnings: Aemond is a criminal (he killed Luke and Viserys), pen pal situation, this fic will have certain themes like smut (consensual), angst, sadness and still debating a happy or sad ending, this will contain mentions and descriptions of murder, warnings will be more detailed as parts go on (I guess you can call it dark Aemond since he kidnaps you but he doesn't hurt you if you get what I mean)
You were not sure whether this was even a good idea, you palms were sweaty and your leg bounced up and down, Sara had told you about her pen pal, recommended the site for you to find one yourself, she explained it as entertaining
You weren’t quite sure if you even wanted to do this but it couldn’t hurt right?
You would feel guilty to personally choose your own pen pal so you decided to allow one to be chosen for you, you closed your laptop and walked away from your desk for a while.
“How have you been?” Doctor Godfrey smiled at Aemond while his monotone stare made her cross her legs, the woman had been his doctor for years, he was incarcerated when he was 17 and now he was 23
“I’ve heard you read books like there’s no tomorrow, do you like books?” She asked and still no answer, she let out a defeated sigh removing her black frame glasses “Aemond I want to help you, but I cannot do anything unless you allow me to” she explained and he held an emotionless face
“Who said I wanted your help” his voice was robotic almost, programmed to sound emotionless and empty “Aemond I’ve been here since you first came here, I’ve helped many people let me help you” she almost pleaded and to no avail “I’ve sighed you up to be apart of the pen pal program, you could make a friend out of this little world you’re in” she smiled softly “No” was all he could say
“I’m afraid that would be out of the question,” she stood up and walked out of the room leaving the guards with him, Doctor Godfrey loved her patients, no matter what they’ve done, that’s what she is here for, to help.
Aemond had been imprisoned for exactly 2,623 days, he counted the years, months, weeks, day, minutes, and seconds, he was in his own cell, he had cellmates who believed they were, better, he didn’t care but when they touched his belongings he did not take too kindly
A seven pointed star his mother wore, the necklace he’d cling to as a babe when she’d hold him and hum him a lullaby to sleep, it was a memory of her, the woman was locked away in an asylum owned by her paternal aunt, Aemond had no updates but he could only hope his poor mother was okay, alive at the very least
He read a book from the book cart everyday, he didn’t like leaving his cell, if he could he would fucking rot in the damn thing.
You were in the middle of class, a literature lecture which was worth a big part of the semesters grade, a vibration from your phone caught your attention, you furrowed your brows looking at the email notification, “A pen pal has been found and available for you, come start a chat!” The bold letters made your skin crawl, you wanted to try it and it was supposedly a 100% safe site but something gnawed at her belly
“Ms. L/n” your attention moved back to your professor “I’m sorry sir, what was that?” You asked embarrassed a pink tint all over your cheeks “If you found the lecture understandable” he repeated and you nodded “Yes, yes of course” he gave a satisfied nod and continued on with some announcements while you began to put your things away
“Hey, hey Y/n!” Sara’s voice was loud and clear making you turn “Have you tried it?” She asked and you gave her your phone “I have to do some log in to get started or something” she chuckled “well, you’ll have lots of fun with this believe me, you get to talk to some possibly hot prison dude and he gets a friend win win” you truly didn’t understand Sara one bit
“Yeah sure, thanks I gotta go” you left since you got a ride home through Lyft, you got home locking your door and opening your laptop going to your email inbox, you pressed the green highlighted link and saw that you had to enter basic information, name, verification of age, address, and other info
You entered it and waited for it all to process, you saw a information sheet with your pen pal’s info, you saw his name, mugshot, age, and whatnot
He was actually kinda cute, “hmm, Aemond” you tested his name out as his name rolled off your tongue perfectly, he had such a pale face, his hair was very unique, white like snow almost and he had a surgical patch covering his left eye, a scar slanted down his face and his other eye was a bright purple, it was not unheard of, he must’ve been of Valyrian descendant
You saw he liked books, that’s all that was listed, he did not have much hobbies listed down, you smiled.
“Aemond, can you guess what good news I bring ?” Doctor Godfrey smiled and he was stoic, she sighed and gave him a soft look “We’ve found you a pen pal” she announced and Aemond shook his head slowly
“Oh good, I see we are improving with communication” she wrote down on her clipboard “And you quite frankly don’t have a choice, I am making this a assignment or a chore in a sense, and if you do well I’ll allow you to write to your mother”
Aemond’s eye softly widened at that, “She is still registered at the Green towers institution and I myself am making sure she is being taken care of” the sigh he let out was barley audible but it was of relief, his sweet mother
“I’ll make sure you get your stationary, I hope you stay well Aemond” the blond haired woman walked out of the room where her evaluations and sessions with Aemond were held
Aemond was led back to his cell, the cell mirrored him somewhat, blank, neat but nothing that described him, no personality almost.
You were stuck trying to figure out what to even write, what could you possibly say? You did not want to be too short nor write as if you knew the man
“Hello, my name is Y/n and I am not so sure how to begin this letter nor what to mention in it but I’d guess the basics, I’m 19, 20 soon, and I kind of don’t really understand why I decided to do this, well a friend did mention it but I decided it would be nice to try, this is all I can really come up with for now and it may be too short and not interesting but I do hope our conversations progress.”
You signed the letter, maybe this letter wasn’t the best but it was a start so if he decides to answer great and if not well you both will never meet so what would it matter?
"where you headed off to?" your mom asked "Store!" you yelled out before leaving your front door, you couldn't really tell her about this because she tended to worry about pretty much nothing at all, and that was the last thing you wanted to do
You walked to your local post office dropping the letter into the blue box, you left and only hoped for the best really.
Aemond was given stationary which was still placed neatly at the small desk all the cells had, he rolled his eye looking away from the stacked up white papers and envelopes with a single pencil
Days had passed and he couldn’t help but think about the fact that if he exchanged a couple stupid letters he could truly write to his mother, she was the only person he cared for, for him she was above everyone and everything else
A bang against the bars of his cell caught his attention “Got some mail Targaryen, a miracle” the guard held a single white neat envelope and Aemond took it from his hand
He sighed sitting at the desk opening it with a carefulness to save the envelope, he looked through it reading the paper, he couldn’t help but notice a tint of awkwardness yet kindness to the person who wrote it, a girl, her name was Y/n, 19 soon to be 20 no wonder,
Aemond himself wasn’t sure how to write but he wanted to check all the boxes, be respectful and exchange the needed letters to write one to his mother
He sighed before picking up the pencil
“Hello Y/n, my name is Aemond, I’m 23, my birthday is in a few months too, I don’t know what to write about either but I hope this letter won’t make you change your mind or bore you, I’m sure we can find some sort of topic to write about, you can write five questions for me like my favorite things and I will write some back after, hope this wasn’t too short for you, and yes I can see our conversations progressing in the future”
Aemond ended the letter at that signing it and putting it inside the white envelope looking at his sheet to see where to write the address, he had left the letter on his desk
Another guard would come around a few days a week to get mail and Aemond without saying a word gave him the letter
“That’s a change, got a girlfriend or what Targaryen?” Aemond ignored him walking away back to his bunk and looking up at the bottom of the top bunk.
"Hey, left your mail on the table" your father tapped your arm softly as you mumbled in your sleep "What mail?" you grumbled out "I don't know a letter" he then left the room making you slump back down on your bed with a soft groan before stretching
then it hit you, a letter
you rolled out of bed waking up in the process looking down at the white envelope, you picked it up slowly and carefully opening the piece of paper
you took a seat on your desk reading over it, it made you softly smile, he didn't sound mean and the letter looked sincere at least, and that was enough
maybe this won't be so bad.
A/n: I have high hopes for this fic and I hope many of you enjoy it, if you would like to be tagged please let me know!
I appreciate all likes, comments, and reblogs but they are not required, as long as you enjoy the fic I am happy loves !!!
much love!
#house of the dragon#hotd#modern house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#ewan mitchell#helaena targaryen#alicent hightower#rhaenyra targaryen
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Heyy! ♡ Idk if you take nsfw requests (and if you don't that's perfectly fine), but could you possibly write a fic where Aemond comforts reader in their bed leading up to more after hearing rumours about Alys but reassuring her that they're not true?
i'm taking nsfw requests, thank you for requesting angel!! i hope you enjoy this ♡ requests are open
modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, smut
aemond presses a kiss to your knee and suddenly you forget what you say.
"you know." he starts. "you know you're the only one."
you shake your head, your head on pillow with your leg in his hand.
"there's no one but you." he says again. "how can there be when i'm literally wrapped around your finger, huh?"
he kisses your thigh until he reaches the waistband of your tiny shorts. you cup his cheek with the last piece of strength you have. "that's not what they say, aemond."
aemond places himself on top of you gracefully, his face right in front of yours. "look at me, sweetheart." he whispers. "you know me. you know what you mean to me. do i look like i'd thrown everything i have with you just to have an affair with that woman just like they say? i'm not a fucking idiot nor a cheater."
your hand lingers on his cheek. "i know you." you start. "but i don't want people to spread rumors about you, about us like this. i don't want them to picture you and alys in their heads as if you're-"
"shh." aemond whispers. "i know."
he kisses your lips lightly. "people will talk. i can't always stop their words but- i can prove you how wrong they are."
you lean in to kiss him, he accepts the kiss greedily. he holds the back of your head, deepens the kiss. you close your eyes to him, you want to forget everything you heard, everything you saw. you believe in aemond and your love but you're frustrated with people's boldness, how can they claim to know anything about your relationship? how can they try to spread false information about your boyfriend?
aemond breaks the kiss, he spreads your legs with kind hands. he leans into your belly, his breath warms your skin. "it looks like my pretty girl needs some convincing, yeah?" he whispers against your cunt, his voice makes your head spin. he kisses your belly. his kisses draw a line from your belly to your cunt, his lips curve upwards when you squirm.
he takes off your shorts quickly, you put your calves back on his shoulders. he looks like a statue, all muscular and flawless. his hair tickles the skin of your thighs as he leans more, his chin grazes the top of your cunt and you arch your back.
"relax." he says. "i'll make you feel good."
"i know." you mumble. it's not the first time he eats you out, definitely will not be the last with the enthusiasm he shows towards the act. he brushes a slow kiss on your skin to start and brings his fingers to your center.
"aemond-" you whisper when he spreads you open. he looks pleased, you can almost feel how you drip down on the sheets. you squirm under his touch again, he gives you a lick to begin with.
"please." you say when he doesn't continue. you push your hips against his lips. "please, please."
he likes the teasing part the most, the slow and cautious seconds to get you where he wants. he opens his mouth to catch your wetness, you take a deep breath when his warm tongue licks your skin. you let out a moan of his name, he's so fucking good at it. it's maddening, so insane; the thought of him doing this to another woman. there are people out there who believes this shit?
aemond starts sucking your swollen bud, his fingers keep playing with you at the same time. you lift your head from the pillow, your hand goes to aemond's head to keep him still. he hums against you, such a pleasent sound. he doesn't move his head, his tongue is warm as he keeps licking your wetness.
"aemond-" you start, his two fingers find your g-spot and you feel him press against it relentlessly. you are really close to lose yourself, the wet sounds coming from between your legs increase and your heart beats faster.
your boyfriend has always been a quick learner, he is the most ambitious person you know and when he wants to be good at something he doesn't stop. sometimes you think he knows your body better than you. he reaches the places you can't reach by yourself with his long fingers, his fingertips press gently but firmly against your skin.
"please- i can't-" you mumble incoherently. aemond looks up to you, his eye glints with a burning desire. his tongue keeps your clit between his lips at he keeps stroking your g-spot, you make a loud noise when he stops suddenly.
"what-"
"come for me." he says firmly. he sucks your clit once again, his fingers inside you. "now."
you are on the edge of insanity, clenching hard around his fingers as you come. it's both a relief and madness, the way he holds you when your sight goes blank, how he presses himself to bed just to give himself a second to focus on you. he is undeniably hard but he has a point to prove.
you lay on bed, eyes closed and body limp. the stress and frustration coming with those rumors were hard on you, you can't even lift your head to see aemond. he kisses your thighs as you come down from your high, he lays next to you. his eye looks at your relaxed face with the hope of affection.
"i never wanted you to hear them." he says lowly. "i don't want them to ruin what we have."
you manage to turn to your side. opening your arms, leading him towards your chest to put his head on your shoulder. he wraps his arms around you in a second, kisses the soft skin of your neck as he inhales your scent.
aemond sounds a bit more terrified than he aims to show. sometimes it feels like you are the only thing in his life that makes sense, he looks at you and can't believe his luck. the thought of your relationship could be ruined because of some stupid business dinner he had with alys rivers makes him sick to his stomach. don't they see how he looks at you? his eye sparks every time you enter a room. he would give anything and everything you ask from him, only to see you smile to his direction.
he has fallen hard for you and selfishly he wants to keep you to himself. he keeps the details of your relationship secret mostly to keep you from harm. maybe that's not enough. maybe he should let everyone know. he doesn't know what to do, right this moment in your arms, it's only your warmth and your lips against his skin that he can think about.
"it's not your fault." you say, playing with his hair. "i shouldn't let these rumors affect me. i think i was- caught off guard. it's not that i believe into their words it's just- the thought of you and her."
aemond wrinkles his nose. "there's no such a thing, my love." he rubs his nose to your skin. "please."
"i know." you say when his arms tightens around you. "i believe in you, only you."
aemond's heart takes a leap every time you say something precious like this to him. he'll hold onto that feeling no matter what happens. god knows it's the only think that keeps him sane these days.
#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x you#house of the dragon#aemond x reader#modern!aemond#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen smut#modern!aemond smut#modern!aemond x reader#house targaryen#house of the dragon fic#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen fanfiction#hotd aemond
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Courted by the Dragon
Chapter 16 - Uncle
Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.
Masterlist
~~~
When you make it into the centre of camp, you can still feel the press of Aemond’s touch on your body, and the heat of his kiss on your cheek, but there’s no time to slow your racing heart. The wheelhouse is already coming to a halt and the groom is hurrying to open the door.
Your mother emerges first, her face seemingly horrified by your tousled appearance, as she rushes to smooth your hair and pull a stray pin from where its clinging on for life.
“Just look at the state of you!” she hisses, and you wonder if your cheeks look as flushed as they feel.
“I think her appearance is quite becoming,” Alicent says, emerging from behind your mother’s frown with a coy smirk before she glances around for the whereabouts of her son.
“It was the wind,” you say, pushing your hair behind your ears while knowing fine well that the wind wasn’t the only thing which had tangled with it. There had been fingers, long, deft, and impossibly gentle.
Perhaps Alicent suspects as much, her head tilting, regarding your appearance with more scrutiny than before.
“Was it not the race?” she counters, and you swallow fresh nerves, wondering if everyone in the wheelhouse had noticed the way you and Aemond had charged down the road.
“That too...” you admit, and she hooks her arm into yours, tugging you into a leisurely walk towards her tent.
So much for staying with Cassandra , you think, glancing over your shoulder to where your mother and sisters are being left behind.
“And who won the race?” Alicent says, drawing your attention back to her face.
“I did, your grace.”
“Ahh,” she smiles excitedly, holding you tighter, her cheek touching your shoulder for just a moment, “and was my son an insufferable loser?”
You laugh, despite the nerves knotting in your stomach, you can’t help it. Insufferable was certainly a choice word for her second son, and though you think her completely accurate in her estimation, you dare not say it.
“Or is he just always insufferable?” she presses, seeming to sense your reluctance, and this time you manage to contain your amusement to a smile, though you’re feeling more at ease in her company.
“Perhaps we can agree that all men are at least a little insufferable?” you suggest, and now it's the queens turn to laugh, her body shaking, her arm holding you tighter.
“Only a little?” she says when she’s caught her breath, and you meet the mischievous look in her eye with a small smile before she releases your arm and gestures for you to enter the royal tent.
It's far bigger than it looks from the outside, and so bright and airy, with the sunlight diffused through the thick white linen and a pleasant breeze blowing in at just the right angle.
You take a seat on one of the green velvet floor cushions and Alicent sits across from you, before beckoning for a maid who places two cups on the low table and fills them almost to the brim with a honey-coloured wine.
“You know... you can tell me everything ,” she says in a hushed tone when the maid has gone, and you think it strange to gossip with the queen about such things as suitors, stranger still that her son is the man in question.
What could you possibly say? What did she want to hear?
You let those questions go unanswered for long enough that Alicent speaks again.
“I noticed you were riding Ōños,” she suggests, still trying to draw you into the conversation she wants to have, and her eyes are wide and probing, desperate for any scraps of information.
“I was.”
“Strange ,” she continues, undeterred by your lacklustre answer, “I don’t believe my son has ever allowed anyone else to ride his horse.”
“Then I should consider myself quite fortunate. Ōños is truly a wonderful horse.”
“If he is wonderful then it is thanks to Aemond, my son is so diligent in all matters as I'm sure you must have realised by now?”
“Prince Aemond is certainly...” single-minded, cocky, competitive, “ dedicated .”
She blows out a small breath of satisfaction, seeming glad to imagine that you might see him as she does. Her golden boy, her perfect son.
“He told me you almost beat him at Cyvasse the other day,” she smiles, delighted by the idea, and you try not to laugh. The last game you’d played with Aemond had been in his room, and he was letting you win, not succumbing to it.
“That is an exaggeration,” you insist, wondering what else Aemond might have mentioned to his mother.
Yet, her lips purse, and from the way she sighs, you imagine he has said as little as you are saying now, and you don’t know why, but you feel the sudden urge to reveal more. Maybe it's the way her eyes turn down or because, no matter the people surrounding her, she always seems so lonely.
“The prince...” you begin and already you regret your words, but you can’t stop now, “was so kind as to give me a tour of the library yesterday.”
“He did?” she brightens, “and what did you think?”
“That it was very beautiful.”
“And where you will always find my son, if you should ever have cause to look for him...” she leans forward, seeming to forget decorum in favour of answers, “ do you? Have cause to look for him I mean?”
“Not that I can recall,” you say, feeling certain that Aemond was not the only single-minded member of his house.
“Do you picnic here often?” you ask, changing the subject and Alicent’s eyes turn wistful, her gaze wandering across the camp.
“I used to bring my children here all the time when they were small, away from court where they could just be . It's so wonderful seeing Jaehaerys and Jaehaera here now.”
You turn your head, to look where she looks, and find them charging across the clearing with their wooden swords and shields clutched tightly in hand. But it's the determination furrowed into their brows which really catches your eye, and they seem to have only one opponent in mind when he strides from the woods- Aemond .
Your heart skips, your cheeks flushing again as you watch the kindly way he reacts to their advance. Dodging their strikes, his laughter teasing but not mocking, before he scoops Jaehaera up, stealing her sword and using it to repel her brother.
You watch them play for quite some time, content in the silence before the queen speaks again.
“If a lady might wish to stay at court...there is always ample space in my retinue.”
“That is very kind of you,” you admit, turning to face her, “but I am still very much looking forward to returning home.”
“Oh? And what, might I ask, is there to look forward to?” she pries, sipping her wine, her brow raised, “a suitor , perhaps?”
“Well... there is…” no suitor at all, only Lord Henry, but you could not tell the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms that you would rather return home to a cat instead of marrying her son, “my other sisters, of course.”
“Of course.” She stares at you for a long moment, her finger brushing the patten embossed on the cup, “so many Baratheon girls and not one proposal this summer? Your mother must be beside herself.”
“Not really,” you choke, glancing down to retrieve your own cup from the table and, when you look back at the Queen, her eyes have narrowed, as though she’s trying desperately to read your mind.
“I think my son-” she begins, just as the man in question arrives, chased by the excited war cries of his niece and nephew and, for once, you’re grateful for his overbearing presence, and the very welcomed distraction from whatever she was going to say next.
He falls on the rug dramatically and, from the queen's easy smile, you can tell this is not an unusual circumstance when the only eyes in the vicinity are that of family and very close friends.
“By order of the Queen, I command you to tickle him to death,” she says, and the twins cast their weapons down in fits of giggles, little fingers reaching for all the good tickle spots while you cannot possibly stop yourself from enjoying every single moment of the spectacle.
This was certainly not the Aemond you knew and loathed.
Yet , the more you thought about it, the more you realised that wasn’t true at all. Not anymore.
This was the Aemond who belonged entirely to the people who knew him best, and perhaps that number was limited to less than a handful, and maybe all of them were in this tent.
“Won’t my lady save me from these hellions?” he says, repelling their onslaught with so much gentleness and good humour that your poor heart was skipping yet again.
“I am afraid his grace is on his own, for I can see they are far too fierce to be trifled with,” you say, as though you are completely aghast at the suggestion.
“You are quite right,” Alicent agrees and Jaehaerys seems to enjoy your words, his chest puffing out before he retrieves his sword to deal the final killing blow to his uncle’s ribs.
You wince when it lands, knowing it must hurt terribly and that the winded groan is certainly not part of the game. But Aemond doesn’t shout or curse like your father would, he dies on the rug with more drama than he had fallen, and you must stifle your laughter with the palm of your hand.
Victorious, the children leave, in pursuit of a fresh victim while the queen prods her son back to life.
“I think you enjoy that even more than they do,” she says, and you suspect she might be right.
“I’m merely teaching them how to fight without mercy,” Aemond decides, his eye betraying the serious tone in his voice, as he sits up on his elbow with his hair ruffled from rolling around on the floor.
“Well, since you are in such a good mood for teaching, perhaps you’d like to show the Lady Baratheon how to play hoops?” Alicent suggests, scheming again.
“As it happens,” Aemond begins, a slow smile inching onto his lips, “I seem to be forgetting that I should be staying at least twenty paces from the lady Baratheon, that was the original agreement, was it not?”
You swallow, hard, remembering the details of your alternative agreement, the one where Aemond’s clothes had loosened from his body and your back had been pushed up against a tree.
But Alicent knows no such things and her excited stare flicks between yourself and her son.
“Twenty paces?” she asks quizzically and you’re suddenly wishing the twins really had run him through.
“It was a bet, your grace,” you say, giving Aemond a sharp look, a warning look.
“A forfeit, actually ,” he retorts, the smile still firmly fixed on his face.
“But why twenty paces?” Alicent prods, far too interested in the details, while your heart is pounding far too hard to think of anything good to say. Certainly not the truth.
That you cannot trust yourself with her son. That even now, when you feel like you might kill him for bringing up the forfeit, you’re more annoyed about the consequences. Because you don't want him to leave, not really. Then again, you don’t exactly want him to stay either.
It didn’t make sense, and you couldn’t explain it even to your own mind, but you needed Aemond Targaryen to be both twenty paces away and close enough to touch at the same time.
Gods , you hated him.
“I cannot speak for the ladies precise reasoning,” Aemond begins when it's clear you’re not going to say anything , and the wicked look in his eye is keen to make a fresh appearance, “but I believe she wishes to prevent any further attempts I might make in asking her to be my wife.”
“Further... attempts?” Alicent gasps, wanting to be certain she was hearing him correctly and she was. You'd heard it too.
Why had he said that? Like it was nothing, like it was just something people said.
“At least one more attempt,” he promises, pushing himself from the floor, his bow deep, and his eye only for you.
Then, without another word, he takes his leave, sauntering across the clearing for exactly twenty paces yet not nearly far enough considering how much you want to kill him!
Yet , killing him would have to wait and not just because of the witnesses milling around the clearing or even the way Alicent’s eyes are hot on your face. But because you can’t move or even breathe. Your mouth is hanging open and shock has drained all life from your limbs.
“Hm,” Alicent says, a smile completely overwhelming her face, “so it seems there has been at least one proposal this summer?”
Gods , you feel as though you could die from embarrassment, but you don’t, and you can’t exactly ignore the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
“Please ,” your voice is as weak as a kitten, your cheeks as bright as the dragon on the Targaryen sigil, “excuse me.”
She holds your stare, your stomach twisting with fresh knots before she nods with a small, pitying smile, “you’re excused. For now. ”
You can’t dwell on what exactly she means by that, and you don’t want to. You stand on shaky legs and do what you should have done when the wheelhouse arrived in camp.
You walk directly to Cassandra and cling to her side, feeling a heady mix of fury and anticipation each time you catch sight of Aemond, and recall the casual way he’d told his mother that he intended on proposing again .
It was yet another humiliation to add to your repertoire, and for a man who had no intention of ever embarrassing you, he was certainly well adapted to it.
You’re glad when it's time to leave and find yourself watching, with some regret, as Aemond races ahead of the procession with Ser Criston Cole, leaving you to travel with Ser Maurin as your only company.
You’d like to say it didn’t matter, that the views were entertainment enough, but you’d be lying. The ride is hot, long and incredibly dusty. Its nearly teatime when you finally make it back to the Red Keep and there is so much fanfare and chaos to mark your arrival that you’re almost certain something has happened while you were away.
The yard is crammed with people, double the amount from this morning and one of them is Otto Hightower, his face stark and serious as he waits to speak with his daughter.
Trying not to stare, you encourage Ōños towards the stable and you’re surprised to see Aemond is waiting for you, resting against a post with a book to occupy his time.
“I trust you enjoyed the ride home?” he says, looking up from the page before snapping the heavy cover shut.
With a sigh, you swipe the back of your hand across your forehead and give him a pointed look. “You know I didn’t.”
He smiles then, easing the book under his arm before opening the stable gate, and you wonder if Aemond’s the reason there are no stable boys or groomsmen to attend you.
“I did as you bid me to and remained at twenty paces for the duration of the picnic,” he says, swapping Ōños’ bridle for a halter and you have to admit, you were somewhat surprised that he’d managed to maintain his end of the forfeit, and less surprised when he reaches to pull you from the horse.
“Now we shall need to make up for it,” he says but you’d anticipated his touch and are quick to dismount on the opposite side to where he is standing with his arms still outstretched.
“His grace seems to be implying that I missed his company. I must assure him, I did not .”
When he laughs, the sound catches in the back of his throat, his arms falling back to his sides. “Then perhaps you’ll be glad to hear we had some guests arrive while we were at leisure.”
You think of the chaos in the yard along with the grave look on Otto’s face. “Who?”
“My sister.”
“Princess Rhaenyra?” you say, not really a question, more the testing of a name which you’ve rarely had cause to speak until now.
“One and the same,” Aemond answers, his tone flat, as he unbuckles Ōños’ saddle before passing you a long brush to brush him down.
A dozen questions spring to the tip of your tongue but you swallow them, suddenly recalling the knowing smirks which Alicent had been aiming at you all afternoon.
Still, it wasn’t Ōños’ fault that his master was the worst man in the entire world, so you don’t throw the brush back at Aemond like you’re tempted to do, you run it across Ōños’ silky white coat with the reverence he deserves.
Afterall, it wasn’t often you were expected to put away your own horse, but there was something strangely relaxing about the mundanity of the task, and you wonder if Aemond thinks it too.
He’s quiet, perhaps even a little pensive, as he inspects Ōños’ shoes before finding another brush so you can work together, and it's a comfortable silence. The hubbub of the courtyard barely carrying past the stable doors.
“I shall be eating dinner with my… family this evening. I don’t suppose you would care to join us?”
“Me?” you scoff. “I’m quite certain I would rather-” you don't say more, you meet his eye, ashamed of your reaction. Dinner with the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was a great honour even if you didn’t want it.
“You’d rather what ?” he moves so he can search your face more readily, “throw yourself from the tallest tower of the keep instead of breaking bread with my sister and her bastards?”
Bastards?
You inhale sharply, your mind stumbling over the word and Aemond let’s its usage swell in the silence, his eye still studying you. Testing you in some way. Perhaps he wants you to challenge him, to call him a traitor, but you don’t. You’re afraid of even hearing such a word.
“Personally, I would rather throw myself into the mercy of the sea,” he admits, and his voice is soft, his fingers reaching to touch your hair, but you move away, thrusting the brush back into his hand.
Just because you harbour no wish to speak ill of his sister, does not mean you have no wish to speak on other matters, “do not think for one moment that I have already forgotten what you said in front of your mother!”
“What I said?” he asks, tilting his head as though he is completely oblivious, when you’re almost certain Aemond could count on one hand the amount of time’s he’d been oblivious to anything.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Marriage, proposals. It was not the sort of thing a person could easily forget.
Amusement flickers in his eye, “refresh my memory.”
“I will not,” you snap, attempting to leave him behind as you exit the stable, but there’s really no escaping Aemond Targaryen’s long stride, and he’s soon hooking his hand under your elbow.
“If you will not tell me of your complaint Lady Baratheon then please allow me to make you a promise...”
You glance back at him, regretting your curiosity the moment his eye darkens.
“Starting now,” he begins, leaning in as though you are conspiring, “it will be no secret that I want you, no matter who is watching us and, when you have my child in your belly, there will be no question over his parentage.”
No question over his parentage?
“There shall certainly be questions,” you retort tartly, snatching your arm away, “such as what in the world I was thinking in allowing you to put it there in the first place.”
“I can suggest at least one reason,” he says, and you hate his stupid arrogant smirk just as much as you wonder what the exact details of that one reason would be. But not enough to ask him, certainly not enough for that.
Instead, you turn back towards the keep and see a man stalking towards you, a stranger, yet you’re in little doubt of his pedigree. Even if it wasn’t for the white hair crowning his head, there’s a certain devilish cockiness which rests so comfortably on his face that you cannot help but think of Aemond. Just older, more battle worn, yet not worn out.
Almost all the women in the yard are watching the way he strides and perhaps it’s because his leather trousers are indecently tight, his shirt billowing in all the places where it doesn’t plaster to his skin.
You imagine he must have been practicing swordplay in the yard for quite some time, and the sword in question is still swinging in his hand, long and dangerous, steel glinting in the sunlight.
“This is my uncle, Prince Daemon,” Aemond says, when he comes to stand directly in front of you, “and this is my Lady Baratheon.”
“Your grace,” you curtsy, and Daemon sinks the tip of his sword into the dirt at your feet, his eyes slowly scraping from your face and down the entire length of your body as though he’s appraising every last inch.
“Well done, nephew,” he smirks, his gaze flicking to meet with Aemond’s and you gasp at the audacity in his tone, your temper flaring when Aemond says nothing to refute him.
In fact, when you tilt your head to glare at him, Aemond’s smiling as though he relishes his uncle's approval. As though the many weeks he’d spent tormenting you was, indeed , very well done.
“Do not allow my presence to interrupt whatever passionate conversation you were having,” Daemon adds, leaning into his sword, his brow raised and his head tilting expectantly.
You open your mouth to speak, to refute whatever ideas he might be having, but before any words break free, you feel Aemond’s hand on your back, the press of his fingers dulled by your cloak but impossible to ignore.
“I was just telling my lady that I shall escort her back to her chambers,” he says, his arm sliding to command yours and you don’t refuse him, doing so would surely be a humiliation on his part and you’re not cruel enough for that.
You dip into another curtsy for his uncle and allow Aemond to lead you away, stopping only when the yard is far from view, your arm hastening from his.
“I shall be glad to escort myself the rest of the way.”
“Very well,” Aemond concedes, his hand’s fastening behind his back, his head gesturing down the hall without complaint.
You start, both confused and surprised by how readily he’d allowed the rejection of his company, but you don’t question it.
You turn, thinking you should be pleased with the situation yet finding yourself quite vexed. And why? You certainly didn’t want Aemond Targaryen to escort you.
Or did you?
No , what you wanted was, in some ways, far worse. You wanted Aemond to want it enough to ignore your own stubborn resolve, and you couldn’t understand that desire any more than you could understand why you desperately wanted him to kiss you.
You begin to walk, cursing every part of your mind which seemed to be succumbing to his infuriating set of charms, and you barely make it more than five paces, before his steps have fallen in time with yours. Not by your side as before, but behind as though you were his lady and he your humble servant.
Stopping, you turn back to face him, “what are you doing?”
Resting back on his heel, Aemond seems to give great thought to the question before answering with a shrug as though it was quite obvious, “ walking .”
“But your room is in that direction,” you say, pointing back down the hall and a smile threatens his cheeks, his jaw tightening just enough to hold it at bay.
“I’m not going to my room, but I’m glad to know my lady has memorised its location.”
“Do not flatter yourself,” you say, quickly turning to hide your own smile, which has escaped, quite inexplicably, onto your face.
Then you begin to walk again, and a tall, leather shadow mirrors your every step. Not at all rebuffed by your stubborn resolve, but diligent, single-minded, and you can hardly stand yourself for how much you enjoy it. Or how forlorn you feel when you reach the door to your chamber, and he turns away.
~~~
Thank you for reading!! :)
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#ewan mitchell#romance#female reader#enemies to lovers#aemond targaryen x oc#prince aemond#slow burn
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#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#hotd#hotd s2#house of the dragon season 2#hotd season 2#aemond one eye
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Cozened Indigo - Part Three
Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader
Warnings: Mentions of murder, dark themes, smut, dubious consent, allusions to no consent. Dead dove; do not eat. Dear god, please mind the tags.
Word count: ~9.6k
Summary: The article goes live and a verdict is delivered. Series masterlist.
Author's note: I have put my journalism degree to use here, to ensure as much accuracy as possible. However, as Westeros is a fictional place, I have warped certain laws and regulations regarding court reporting for the purpose of the story. Please suspend your disbelief for the sake of a fictional tale. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.
“Rhaenyra has gotten wind of the fact that Aemond has spoken to the press, so now she’s doing an interview too – with White Knight Magazine.”
Larys’ words play on a loop in her mind as she sits heavily in her office chair, dread forming a pit in her stomach as anxiety flutters unbridled within her chest. Her interviews with Aegon and Helaena are set for tomorrow, she still has to do her background research on them both, alongside transcribing all of her interviews with Aemond. With just two weeks to do it all, and with Rhaenyra’s pending interview looming over it, it feels too huge an obstacle to overcome. She is being set up for failure, made all the more humiliating by the fact that the feature from the opposing side is to be featured in the publication that effectively put an end to her career. It has to be deliberate, there is no way it's a coincidence.
It’s not until she sees the droplet of moisture splatter upon her desk that she realises she’s crying. Burying her face in her hands, she draws in a shuddering breath, attempting to pull herself together.
Not here. Not in the office,
“Everything okay?”
Startled, her head snaps up to look at Royce, his features pinching into a look of concern as she sniffles and hurriedly wipes at her eyes.
“Doesn’t everyone cry at their desk occasionally?” She jokes, attempting to play it off with a watery laugh.
“Let’s step into my office,” he responds softly, not giving her a chance to reply as he turns and walks away.
She sighs, tipping her head back and uttering a quiet “fuck” before following him.
“Want to tell me what’s really going on?” Royce says, perching on the edge of his desk and folding his arms, as she closes the door behind her.
The weariness that has weighed upon her since her discovery of the upcoming Targaryen trial settles over her with a heavy finality, as she meets his gaze with exhausted resignation.
“I can’t do this, Royce. Put me back on the Flea Bottom curfew piece.”
“What? Why?!” He narrows his eyes, leaning forward slightly.
“Rhaenyra - Aemond’s half sister - is doing an interview of her own.”
“So?”
“With White Knight Magazine.”
“Ah.”
“The deadline is too tight, I’ll never be finished in time.” She sags against the office door, wrapping her arms around herself.
“What’s the hold up?”
Exasperatedly, she drags a hand through her hair. “I have all of my interviews with Aemond to transcribe still, and that’s before I even begin writing the piece. On top of that, I now have to interview Aegon and Helaena, and I–”
“Woah”, Royce interrupts, “the brother and sister have agreed to be interviewed by you?”
“Yes, tomorrow, and I haven’t even started my background research on them yet. What am I going to do?!”
Royce reaches behind him, lifting the box of Kleenex from his desk. He gently tosses it towards her and she catches it, smiling gratefully as she plucks one out to dab at her eyes and nose.
“You’re going to go home, and do your background research, and prepare for your interviews tomorrow. You can leave your transcription with me. I’ll do it for you.”
“You?” She looks at him wide eyed with incredulity, balling the tissue up in her fist. “You didn’t even want me working on this story in the first place, why would you want to help me?”
“It’s not entirely selfless”, he says with a shrug, “this feature will be huge for The Gazette, it’s in my best interests to make sure you get it done.”
“Makes sense,” she admits with a nod. “Thank you.”
“Send me your audio files,” he instructs, pushing himself back into a standing position, “and then go home and get to work. Your runny mascara is bad for office morale.”
Face given a thorough clean with a wet wipe, a few hours later she sits curled up on her sofa, her gaze fixed intently on her laptop. Royce offering to do her transcription for her has shifted some of the burden from her, and she feels lighter as she clicks through each of the articles she finds regarding Helaena and Aegon Targaryen.
Helaena seems like an anomaly within the family, a blinding white beacon of joy within an ocean of misery. She is heavily involved in environmental conservation, an activist for animal rights and has received several awards for her charitable work. If she has anything at all positive to say about her younger brother, then it would be a huge help to the article.
Aegon, on the other hand, is not quite so impressive. There is little to no evidence that she can find which alludes to his morality or personality, though if the photographs splashed across trashy tabloids of him drunkenly falling out of nightclubs, and parading down the street with an ever changing array of women on his arm are anything to go by, then it’s not good. There’s a small article regarding his brief stint in a rehab facility, which offers a glimmer of hope, but only the interview itself will tell for certain.
As her taxi drives slowly up the expansive and seemingly never ending driveway of the Targaryen-Hightower mansion the following morning, she is momentarily stunned by the grandiosity of it all. She had known the family was rich, but this seems obscene. The property is located on a hill in the centre of King’s Landing, which overlooks the city, serving as an unnecessary physical reminder of how far above everyone else the family is, or at least considers themselves to be.
Her driver had been buzzed through the main gate via an intercom on the drive up to the house, so she is surprised to find no one is waiting for her once she steps out of the car. Standing in front of the large, forest green front door she lifts the ring pull of the bronze dragon head knocker and raps it against the wood three times.
She shuffles from foot to foot, anxiously waiting. A full minute passes and she is about to knock again, when the door swings open. A mop of disheveled, wavy, silver blonde hair and tired blue eyes greet her as she looks into the face of Aegon Targaryen.
As her gaze travels downwards she sees he is dressed in only a pair of low riding grey jogging bottoms and a dark green robe, which isn’t tied. She falters, blinking rapidly and clearing her throat, as she looks back at his face. The lazy smirk painted across his features is unnerving.
“Mr. Targaryen?”
“Aegon,” he corrects her. “You the reporter?”
She nods, shifting her bag to the opposite shoulder. “Right…Aegon. Am I too early? Larys said 11am.”
He gives a slight shrug. “I must have gotten carried away with my beauty sleep. Guess you’d better come in.”
Aegon leaves the door open, padding on bare feet through the foyer. She follows him, eyes wide as she takes in the opulence of the high ceilings and expensive art that adorns the walls.
He leads her through to the kitchen, opening the double doors of a large silver refrigerator.
“Get you a beer?” He asks, pulling a bottle out before biting the cap off with his teeth.
She winces. “Not for me, thanks, bit early.”
He takes a drink, nodding as he mulls over her response. “I’d offer you a bloody mary, but we’re out of tomato juice.”
She is about to laugh, until she sees that he’s sincere, so bites back the urge. “Honestly, I’m fine. Got a water bottle in my bag.”
“Fair enough,” he utters, leaning forward on his elbows on the kitchen island as he sets the bottle down. “So, how does this work?”
“I just want to ask a few questions about your brother, Aemond. Have you got a place you’d like to go to do that?”
“Why not right here?”
She raises her eyebrows slightly, taken aback by the informality, before nodding. He watches her intently as she rummages in her bag, taking out her dictaphone and placing it on the granite surface that separates them. “Will we not be interrupted?”
“Nah, mum’s gone with grandad to visit Aemond. That’s why Larys set up the interview for today. They’re pissed off that he’s spoken to the press, so better for you to be here when they aren’t.”
She purses her lips, pushing down her unease, before nodding towards the dictaphone. “I need to record this. That okay?”
His gaze rests upon the recording device for a moment, before he takes another long swig of his beer. “Yeah,” he finally says.
She pulls out a wooden bar stool, sitting upon it before she presses record. “We’ll start with your childhood. What was Aemond like growing up?”
“A twat,” Aegon shoots back quickly, causing the corners of her mouth to turn up into the faintest of smiles.
“Can you elaborate?”
Aegon sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “He just…took everything really seriously. He never had a sense of humour about anything.”
“So, you didn’t like him?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What are you saying?”
“He’s my brother, I love him, we’re just very different.”
“Different how?”
“Aemond is ambitious, he’s hard working. I’m not, I just want…”
She raises an eyebrow as he trails off. “You just want..?”
“To be happy,” he mutters.
“And are you?”
He scoffs. “I thought this interview was about my brother?”
“Do you think your brother was ever happy growing up?”
“He had his eye carved out of his skull when he was ten, of course he wasn’t!”
“By your nephew, Lucerys?”
Aegon’s brow furrows with anger, his tone dark and clipped. “Little shit got what was coming to him.”
Her breath catches in her throat, her blood turning icy in her veins as she stares at him, wide eyed. Slowly, with a shaky hand she reaches forward to press the stop button on the dictaphone.
Aegon drains the remnants of his beer, heavily setting the bottle back down and lowering his gaze as he grips the edge of the kitchen island.
When she eventually finds her voice, it comes out as a strained whisper. “Do you think Aemond killed him on purpose?”
His mouth quirks, eyes obscured slightly by the hair that has fallen into his face as he looks slowly back up at her. The air feels thick, and she realises she’s holding her breath as she waits for him to respond.
“Is this the lady that’s here to interview us?” A quiet voice comes from behind her.
She jumps, turning on her stool to look at the woman that hovers in the kitchen entryway, dressed in a white vest top and powder blue harem pants. Her hair falls in soft, loose, silver blonde waves almost to her waist, her eyes hold a faraway, dreamy quality. This must be Helaena.
Aegon nods. “Yeah, she was just interviewing me.”
“Oh…” Helaena deflates slightly, clasping her hands in front of. “I’ve interrupted.”
Her brother shakes his head, pushing away from the counter and walking from the kitchen. “No. No, you didn’t. We’d just finished, all yours.”
She watches him retreat, before turning her focus to his sister.
Well, that’s the end of that then.
“Hi,” Helaena says with a soft smile, extending her hand as she steps forward. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
She takes her hand, feeling the Targaryan woman noticeably flinch at the contact, giving it the briefest of shakes before letting go. “You must be Helaena.”
“I am,” she says nodding, clutching her hands in front of her once more. “Sorry about Aegon, he just has a hangover…he always has a hangover.”
Her gaze turns sad and she looks away. For a few seconds it seems as if she’s not even there anymore, and she wonders where she’s gone, before Helaena returns to the present and smiles once more.
“Shall we go up to my room?”
She trails after her up the stairs, looking at the antiquities that decorate the vast amount of space that makes up the house, until they reach Helaena’s bedroom. Stepping inside she is taken aback by the brightness of it, it feels like she has entered another universe separate from the darkened surrounds of the rest of the mansion.
Floral wallpaper adorns the walls, with a variation of frames containing pin mounted insects and butterflies. She turns to a shelving unit, picking up an expensive looking crystal beetle to examine it as it sparkles in the sunlight.
“This is beautiful,” she muses more to herself than Helaena.
“You like it?” She asks, causing her to look up, suddenly embarrassed at having handled a stranger’s belongings without asking.
“Sorry,” she replies, flustered, placing the beetle back on its shelf. “Never seen anything like it.”
“You can have it if you want,” Helaena quips with an easy shrug.
She blinks rapidly, unsure if she has heard her correctly. “Pardon?”
“If you like it, you should have it,” she tells her, sitting on the edge of her bed.
It’s a sweet gesture that comes from a place of childlike innocence, but is also indicative of how shockingly out of touch wealth makes people. Of course she doesn’t mind if she gives away something so expensive, not when the resource is there to easily replace it.
“That’s very kind, but I couldn’t,” she says, taking out her recorder. “I don’t want to intrude upon too much of your day. Shall we get started?”
Helaena is easier to interview than Aegon had been. She speaks kindly of Aemond, and as she listens she finds herself feeling more and more sad, not just for Aemond but for the entire family. Helaena had always wanted a sisterly relationship with Rhaenyra, but with a seventeen year age gap and Rhaenyra’s apparent resentment at no longer being an only child, it never happened. Where Aegon had often made fun of her, Aemond had been good to Helaena when they were growing up, patient and understanding of her tendency to daydream and fascination with insects.
“I don’t want my brother to go to prison,” she says sadly, “I just want us to be a family.”
“Do you think that that’s what Aemond wants too?”
“I don’t know what my brother wants anymore. I don’t think he knows himself.”
As her taxi drives her back towards home, dread settles in her stomach like a heavy stone. She can’t help but wonder what Aegon would have said if Helaena hadn’t interrupted them. There is no denying that the Targaryens are a family that are steeped in tragedy, but amidst it all something unseen and sinister lurks, looming with the sense that by the time she stumbles upon it, she’ll be too far in to back out.
“For you,” Royce says the following morning, depositing a USB drive onto her desk.
“Are those the transcriptions?” She asks, looking up at him with wide eyed wonder. “That was quick work.”
“It’s a tight deadline”, he replies with a smirk. “How did your interviews go yesterday?”
Little shit got what was coming to him.
She draws in a breath, unsure of what guides her actions. “I only interviewed Helaena in the end. Aegon was too hungover.”
“A shame, but one interview is better than nothing. Send me the audio and I’ll transcribe that for you too, so you can crack on with the writing.”
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.”
“I know,” Royce says with a wink, before walking away.
She picks up her dictaphone, hovering over the audio file for Aegon’s interview.
Little shit got what was coming to him.
There is no way she can allow Royce to hear that, though she cannot put her finger on why. Before she has a chance to dwell on it further, she erases the recording and gets to work uploading Helaena’s to her computer, then emails it to Royce.
Over the following week, she works hard on the feature, painting a picture of the enigma that is Aemond Targaryen in his own words, as well as his sister’s. It’s a heart wrenching piece, a tale of a misfit little boy, maimed at the age of ten and left to live with the consequences of it. However, instead of collapsing into despair or falling back on a comfortable lifestyle, funded by his family’s fortune, he had studied hard and was an accomplished solicitor within his grandfather’s law firm. He had overcome his disability to train in athletic pursuits such as mixed martial arts and long distance running, and is knowledgeable in the fields of both history and philosophy. There is no denying that Aemond Targaryen is impressive, even without having to navigate the difficulties of losing an eye.
Once the article has been thoroughly vetted by Royce, it goes to print, landing on newsstands the exact same day as Rhaenyra’s interview in White Knight Magazine. Aemond cuts an imposing figure in the photograph used in the double page spread, a sinister presence in direct opposition with the content of the article. And still there is something that niggles at the back of her mind, a stone she has left unturned. Was she right to omit Aegon’s interview? She supposes it is of little consequence, it’s too late now.
White Knight is a larger publication, so occupies a more prominent shelf space than the Duskendale Gazette. However, upon news spreading that a feature with the elusive Targaryen second son is contained within its pages, it sells out quickly, with an urgent extra print run needing to be made to supply the demand for more copies, despite additional copies having been printed in the first place, in anticipation of the article’s popularity. But they hadn’t anticipated just how popular the feature would be.
As she stands in the newsagents, looking at both publications on the shelf, she is struck by the thought that this presents itself as forcing the public to choose a side, despite neither article making mention of the murder or impending trial.
She reads Rhaenyra’s feature, and cannot help but feel sympathy for her. A young woman whose world was rocked when her best friend had married her father after her mother had died, and then made to feel displaced by the children that that relationship had produced. Already having to deal with the animosity that divides the family in the wake of her father’s death, she now must cope with the grief of losing her son.
Whose side should she choose? She wishes more than anything that Aegon had answered her question, it would doubtless make for an easier decision.
Her phone buzzing in her pocket pulls her out of her reverie and she huffs an irritated sigh as she sees Larys’ name flashing on her screen. She had assumed her dealings with him would be over once the article went to print. It appears she was wrong.
“Nice work,” he drawls into the receiver once she’s answered. “You’ve painted quite the picture.”
“Has he seen it?”
“Aemond? Yes, I ensured he received a copy this morning. He’s pleased with how it’s turned out. That’s why I’m calling, actually.”
“The article’s published, what more is there to say?”
Larys clicks his tongue, his tone dripping with condescension. “Now, now, we did you a favour in letting you run this feature. You’ll have every publication in Westeros beating down your door to commission you after today. Don’t you think a little gratitude is in order?”
“Gratitude?!” She snipes back. “Isn't it enough that I’ve painted a rosy picture of a…”
Murderer.
She can’t bring herself to say the word, there is still a seed of doubt in her mind, yet Larys knows what she means regardless.
“Alleged,” he corrects her. “All Aemond wants to do is say thank you, surely a phone call couldn’t hurt?”
“Do not give him my phone number,” she seethes.
“Very well. But you’ll be at the trial?”
“It’s a closed courtroom.”
“It is. Selected press only, to avoid it becoming a media circus, but I can get you on the list.”
“I’m not supposed to be covering the trial.”
“And you won’t be, don’t worry, I can still get you in.”
“You’ve come this far. May as well see it through to the end.”
Aemond’s words echo in her mind, and she relents with a sigh. It’s not as if she isn’t curious. “Alright, fine.”
“Excellent. See you then.”
The line goes dead.
The trial is to last three days. A day for the prosecution to deliver their testimonies, a day for the defense to present their case, and a day for the jury to deliberate and then pass their verdict, with subsequent sentencing from the judge. Rhaenyra is pushing for a murder sentence, while the other side of the family argue it was an accident.
The tightly wound knots of dread that have made their home inside of her over the last month are prominent as ever as she arrives at the courthouse on the first day. She is ushered in after giving her name, though not towards the sparsely populated press seats as she had assumed she would be.
Bile rises acridly in her throat, her eyes widening in horror as she realises she is being led towards the public gallery to sit with Aemond’s side of the family. Despite wanting to remain neutral, she is being given a side, without the option to choose, though deep down she knows she had subconsciously made her choice the moment she decided to interview Aemond. The idea makes her feel nauseated.
The entire family is tense as she takes a seat next to them. Aegon side eyes her uncomfortably, while Helaena, though she forces a smile, is fidgety and withdrawn. It’s clear she would rather be anywhere but here. Otto bristles at the sight of her, rising slightly from his seat, before Alicent places a hand on his forearm, urging him back down again.
“Aemond wants her here,” she whispers, patting her father’s hand as he sighs and turns his gaze ahead.
Despite defending her presence, the Hightower matriarch doesn’t acknowledge her, keeping her eyes fixed upon her nails, which look red raw around the edges.
An eerie silence falls over the courtroom as Aemond is led out towards the dock, accompanied by a prison officer. He is stony raised as he is seated, keeping his attention fixed on a far point towards the back of the room, though she is certain that for just a second she sees his eye flicker to her, the briefest of smirks tugging at the corners of his mouth. Her stomach somersaults and she forces herself to look away. When she looks back, he’s staring towards the back of the courtroom once more.
“All rise for the honourable Judge Wylde,” a member of staff calls out, and she stands with everyone else, watching as the judge sweeps into the courtroom, taking a seat at the bench, before they are all instructed to sit once more.
Rhaenyra’s solicitor, Erryk Cargyll, delivers the opening statement for the prosecution’s case, claiming that his client has grounds to believe that the death of her son was deliberate and premeditated.
The hours feel as though they drag by as statements are delivered by Rhaenyra, her sons, Jacaerys and Joffrey, and her husband, Laenor. Though all are clearly emotional, and still reeling from the death of Lucerys, none of them actually saw what happened. The evidence is all purely circumstantial, with nothing concrete. Rhaenyra appears visibly distressed, and her heart aches for her knowing that Larys is likely to tear her apart during his questioning.
She isn’t wrong. Larys’ questions hinge upon the fact that her dislike for her half siblings is what guides her judgements and he repeatedly asks if she saw what happened. She appears flustered, stumbling over her words, growing more emotional as the questioning grows more pointed.
Looking over at Alicent, she sees a harrowed look in her eyes, her expression solemn as she stares wide eyed at her former friend from the public gallery, gripping her father’s hand tightly. It is awful to watch, and she is desperate to leave.
Unsurprisingly, Aemond is calm and collected as he is questioned by both Larys and Erryk, keeping his answers clipped and simple. Saying that he had been eager to get away from the family gathering, and had not seen Lucerys as he’d struck him in his haste to drive off. He never falters, even under the heated cross examination from Erryk, asking if he’d been motivated by the injury sustained as a child in his killing of Lucerys. Aemond replies with a simple “no, it was an accident”,
By the time the court is adjourned for the day, she is exhausted both mentally and emotionally. She feels for Rhaenyra, it is clear to see how much she loves her son, and she just wants justice for him. Yet her case is flimsy, and she knows that Aemond’s defense will deal the killing blow tomorrow. On the other hand, Aemond could be telling the truth, in which case, horrible as it is, is it fair that he should be hauled over the coals for an accident? He’ll serve a prison sentence either way.
Despite her tiredness, sleep does not come easy for her that night, knowing she will have to do this all again tomorrow.
The following day, as she’d expected, the defence tears apart Rhaenyra’s case, especially when they call Dr. Orwyle to the witness stand. He is apparently the doctor that had treated Aemond when he initially lost his eye, and had helped him with pain management and rehabilitation in the years that followed.
The doctor’s statement deduces that Aemond’s lack of depth perception means it is not advisable for him to drive at night, due to reduced visibility, so it is entirely plausible he would not have seen Lucerys at all as he’d driven away.
Larys’ closing statement underscores it all; “so, you see your honour, my client was in such emotional distress that evening that he felt he had no choice but to leave. It was an honest accident. Is Aemond Targaryen careless? Yes. But a killer? No.”
“Fucking liar!” Rhaenyra cries out, jumping to her feet, her voice fraught with emotion.
“Order!” Judge Wylde shouts across the courtroom.
She bows her head, drawing in a withering sigh. The trial is over, it’s just the verdict and sentencing to go now.
When she looks back up, a shiver runs the length of her spine; Aemond is staring directly at her. He’s smiling.
She allows her curiosity to get the better of her, once the court is adjourned for the day, catching up to Aegon as he walks from the courtroom. He whips around as she gently grabs his arm, his brows knitting together in confusion as he looks at her.
“I’ll never hear the end of it from Mum, if she sees me talking to you,” he mutters, attempting to pull away.
“I know,” she says, stepping in front of him to block his path, “but I’ll be quick. I just need to know, when I asked you the other day if you thought Aemond had killed Luceys on purpose, what would you have said if Helaena hadn’t interrupted us?”
Aegon sighs, rolling his eyes as he steps around her. “I think you already knew the answer to that when you omitted my interview. It doesn’t matter really though, does it?” He says to her, as he begins walking away. “He’s going to prison either way.”
His words bring her little comfort, and she stands, watching with unease, as he descends the steps at the front of the building. In a sense, he is right, it doesn’t matter now, and her article is already published. She hates herself for it.
She feels sick with nerves the following day, as the final closing statements are read out, and she’s unsure why. Aemond is nothing to her, and yet she feels that she has played a part in this all the same, will somehow be responsible for whatever verdict is reached, whether it’s the right one or not.
The faces of Rhaenyra, Laenor and Jacaerys are sullen and angry on one side of the courtroom, while Alicent and Helaena look fraught with worry. Otto and Aegon sit stony faced and impassive.
It takes the jury just one hour to reach their verdict.
The clerk of the court calls out, “Will the foreman of the jury please stand? Have you reached a verdict on which you are all agreed?”
When the foreman answers in the affirmative, the clerk continues. “On the first count in the indictment, murder in the first degree, do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?”
“Not guilty.”
Rhaenyra collapses into Laenor’s arms with a sob, as Jacaerys jumps to his feet, shouting obscenities. It’s not until Judge Wylde threatens to have him removed that order is restored in the court, and the verdict can continue.
She looks to Aemond, sitting in the dock, his gaze lowered, the silver strands of his hair obscuring his face, so she’s unable to see his reaction, but she can tell from the movement of his wrists that he’s fiddling with his fingers. Is he nervous? He has been so stoic throughout this entire process, to see him falter is unnerving. She finds herself unable to look away as the final verdict is read out.
“On the second count in the indictment, manslaughter, do you find the accused guilty or not guilty?”
“Guilty.”
Aemond looks to his mother as the verdict is read out, her brown eyes doleful and filled with tears as she gazes back at him. Rhaenyra storms from the courtroom, the heavy wooden double doors flinging wide open as she departs, quickly followed by Laenor and Jacaerys.
“He’s going to prison,” Helaena whispers sadly.
“That was always going to happen,” Aegon retorts with a heavy sigh.
When the judge passes a sentence of ten years, Alicent buries her face in her hands and sobs.
“He’ll be out in five, if he behaves himself”, Otto says quietly, in an attempt to reassure her.
“But our family is torn apart forever,” she whispers tearfully.
She has seen all she needs to see, and cannot stomach watching or hearing anymore. Rising from her seat, she hurries from the courtroom and outside to the top of the steps, sucking in steadying breaths to help calm the rising panic within her.
Her obligation to Aemond is complete, so she doesn’t understand why this has affected her the way it has. Likely the result of being trapped in such a toxic setting for the last three days, which makes her all the more determined to get away.
Pulling out her phone, she is about to open the taxi app, when Larys calls to her from the entryway of the courthouse. “He’d like to see you.”
“What?!” She asks incredulously, turning to look at him with a scowl. “What for?!”
“To say thank you, and goodbye. You rejected the offer of a phone call, perhaps you can give Aemond a few moments of your time to say his piece in person?”
“I’ve just given three days of my life watching a grieving mother be made a mockery of for his benefit, don’t you think he’s had enough from me already?”
“I can get you into the holding room for a few minutes, before his family go to see him, ahead of him being transferred back to Dragonstone. Just a few minutes, and then all of this is behind you. He has asked to see you specifically.”
She pinches the bridge of her nose exasperatedly. “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”
Aemond would look handsome in the all black, expensively tailored suit he’d worn for court, were it not for the handcuffs that bind his wrists together, reminding her that he’s a convicted criminal.
“Speak then,” she says, as she sits down opposite him.
“I just wanted to say thank you, truly, for the article you wrote. You really are a talented writer, and I’m sure great things are in store for you.”
She purses her lips, humming in acknowledgement, uncomfortable with the compliment. “That’s quite alright.”
“I really enjoyed our chats together. I’m going to miss them.”
She frowns, not at the words themselves, but the fact that they are sincere. He means what he’s saying. “It was for a professional purpose,” she insists.
He shakes his head, leaning forward against the table. “I know you enjoyed them too.”
She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “Well, they’re over now.”
“They don’t have to be,” he says with a shrug, “ten years is a long time, plenty of time for us to chat.”
She leans back, away from him, the familiar weight of dread settling over her once more. “Aemond, I don’t think that’s a–”
He lurches forward across the table, grabbing her forearm, almost painfully so, his tone desperate and pleading. “Say you’ll come to visit me!”
She is unsure of whether it’s because there’s a part of her that secretly wants to, because she can’t bear to see the look of anguish in his eye any longer, or if she just wants him to let go of her so she can leave, but she finds herself whispering back in a trembling voice “okay, I will”.
It is not a promise she keeps.
Larys had been right, her article about Aemond is the spark that reignites her career. In the weeks following the publication of the feature, her email inbox had been inundated with offers of work from editors across a variety of different media outlets.
She had spent a long time chained to a desk at “The Wall” of the Duskendale Gazette, she did not much fancy swapping one static position for another. Eager to spread her wings, she had handed in her notice, despite Royce’s offer of a promotion. She craved freedom, and with her pick of what publications to write for, she made a successful career of freelancing. Over the next few years she had articles published in broadsheet newspapers and glossy, high end magazines alike, covering current events and interviewing high profile public figures. She made a comfortable living, until eventually she accepted the job of commissioning editor at Gold Cloak, a fashion and lifestyle magazine with a huge circulation and an even larger salary. She is almost able to put to the back of her mind the person who put her there in the first place. Almost.
In the months following Aemond’s sentencing, she had received several calls from an unknown number. On the one occasion she had picked up, it had begun with the automated message “an inmate from Dragonstone Prison is trying to reach you…” She had hung up immediately, her heart lurching, remembering she had said she would visit him, but knowing full well she couldn't. Not because of the morality of the situation, but because of how strong her desire to go actually was. That was a part of her she was eager to suppress. As the calls had continued, she had eventually opted to change her number, and after that they had stopped.
Aemond Targaryen is no more than a meager itch at the back of her mind now. It has been five years since she last spoke to him.
The sunshine warms her skin through the glass of the café window as she sits at the rounded wooden table, leaning back in her chair as her eyes scan over the article she has just had emailed to her. Deadline day is approaching for Gold Cloak, as they gear up to go to print with their next issue, and the last few stragglers are finally submitting their copy. It’s an odd sensation to be appraising the words of others, instead of writing her own, but she’s worked hard to get to this point, and it’s satisfying to be in a position where she is considered senior enough to dictate the contents of a major publication, not just contribute towards it.
Making the most of a work from home day, she has elected to visit her local coffee shop, watching the world pass by on a busy side street of King’s Landing, while the spicy aroma of her chai latte comforts her as she works.
She frowns when the sunlight she had been enjoying morphs into muted darkness. Her breath hitches, and she lets out a frightened gasp as she looks up to see Aemond standing over her.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says softly, “I saw you as I was passing and I wanted to say hello.”
His words do little to comfort her, and her eyes desperately scan the coffee shop. It’s relatively busy, with lots of people, witnesses. Good.
He smirks. “I’m not here to hurt you, don’t worry.”
She swallows thickly, shifting to sit fully upright in her seat. “What are you–”
“I only served half my sentence, I was let out on good behaviour. I’m not an escapee, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
“Right, right…” she mutters, attempting to get her thoughts in order as her heart feels like it’s set upon hammering its way out of her chest.
“Mind if I sit?” Aemond says, gesturing to the empty seat opposite hers. “Might make you feel better if I’m not looming over you.”
What can she say? She looks around the café again, deciding she doesn’t want to cause a scene. “Yeah, sure.”
He pulls out the chair, sitting opposite her. Aemond is not quite as intimidating as she remembers him, though she supposes the only time she’d ever seen him before was in prison sweats or dressed for court. Today, as the sun dapples across his pale skin, he looks softer somehow, not nearly as scary as she’d once thought. His long silver blonde hair is pulled up into a low bun, and he’s dressed casually in a black leather jacket, a dark green henley and black slacks tucked into black Doc Martens.
She closes her laptop, perching her elbows on the edge of the table and resting her chin on her hands as she looks at him.
“I’m sorry I never–”
“So what are you–”
They both pause, smiling awkwardly as they begin to talk over each other, before Aemond gestures towards her. “You first.”
She nods, leaning back again, drumming her fingers softly on the table. “I never did come to visit you. I’m sorry.”
He shrugs out of his jacket, letting it drape across the back of the chair. “It was wrong of me to ask you, to be honest,” he admits, “I’d just never opened up to anyone like that before, and though I knew the consequences of the accident, none of it really felt like it was happening until it did. I panicked.”
The accident.
She finds it odd that he refers to in such a way, but he seems so different now, less tense, and she feels herself beginning to relax. Perhaps it really was an accident?
Wrapping her hands around her cup in a bid to ground herself, she nods. “So how long have you been out?”
“A few weeks,” he tells her, his hands coming to rest upon the table as he turns a stray sugar packet around in his fingers. “It’s been a bit of an adjustment.”
“You’re looking well through,” she blurts, before she has time to stop herself.
He smirks and she feels her skin grow hot as he retorts “I could say the same about you.”
She clears her throat, eager to switch gears in the conversation. “So, are you gonna grab a coffee, or are you just passing through?”
“Well, actually, since I’ve run into you, I wondered if perhaps you’d like to join me for something stronger?”
She raises her eyebrows. She knows it’s a bad idea, the trouble is the voice telling her that is not as loud as the one screaming at her to say yes.
“What are you having?” Aemond asks as they stand at the bar of Maegor’s Holdfast.
“Glass of Rioja, please.”
Aemond nods, turning to the bartender. “Bottle of Rioja and two glasses, please.”
“A whole bottle?!” She hisses, as the bartender moves away to fetch their order.
Aemond gives an easy shrug. “We’re both having the same thing, it makes more sense to share a bottle, than two separate glasses.”
“So, what are you doing with yourself these days?” Aemond asks, as they sit in a cosy corner of the pub, sipping their wine.
“Working, mostly,” she tells him, “I’m commissioning editor for Gold Cloak Magazine.”
“Impressive,” he says, raising his glass to her. “You’ve done well for yourself.”
“Thanks to you,” she replies quietly, a heated feeling of shame feeling as though it envelopes her. She’s keen to change the subject. “So, what’s going on with you?”
“I can’t return to Red Keep Legal, I’m no longer allowed to practice law. I figured I’d study in another field, maybe history or philosophy, see where that takes me. I’m living back with my mother until I get back on my feet.”
“How’s the family?”
“Mother is okay. Fussing over me far too much now that I’m back. Grandfather has retired, he’s gone back to Oldtown, got himself a nice little cottage. It’s fairly quiet at the house, feels empty.”
“Are Helaena and Aegon not there anymore?”
Aemond shakes his head, taking a long sip of wine before speaking again. “Helaena’s currently overseas in Qarth, doing a conservation study on some sort of beetle. Aegon’s gone to Braavos, he’s decided a life by the sea suits him better now that he’s sober.”
“Aegon’s sober?!”
“Yeah, it surprised me too. Apparently his drinking got quite a lot worse after I was put away. Mother finally had enough and forced him back to rehab. It stuck this time.”
“Good for him. I’m pleased.”
“Hmm. Enough about my family, I want to know all about your new job. Tell me everything.”
Over the next few hours, they fall into effortless conversation, and as one bottle of wine turns into two, it’s easy to forget the nature of their unusual relationship, it feels as though she’s chatting with an old friend.
She tells him all about the freelance work she’s undertaken over the last few years, as well as how she found herself with a job offer from Gold Cloak. They chat about music, films, share jokes and anecdotes, though always careful to avoid mention of Aemond’s incarceration or anything related to it. Aemond is witty, oddly charming and fiercely intelligent, if she hadn't interviewed him in the wake of his nephew’s murder then she could definitely see him as someone she’d be attracted to.
As she drains her final glass of wine, the second empty bottle calling out like a beacon that it’s time to go home, she feels fuzzy headed, her eyes and limbs heavy.
Oh shit, I’m drunk.
She stumbles as she rises from her seat, and Aemond places a steadying hand on her arm, the warmth she sees in his smile as he looks down at her taking her breath away. He looks nothing like a killer, just an ordinary man.
“Come on,” he says, offering her his arm, “I’ll walk you home.”
It doesn’t occur to her to ask how he knows where she lives as he walks her back to her block of flats. Her mind feeling thick from the effects of the wine, she doesn’t resist when he leans down, his lips pressing against hers as he steps her backwards over the threshold of her front door.
He dominates the kiss, the taste of red wine upon his lips potent and sweet. He holds her tight against him, his mouth devouring hers. Their movements are needy and desperate as her hands help to push his jacket from his shoulders and it drops to the floor, along with her laptop bag, with a soft thump. It’s enough to temporarily break her out of her passionate haze and she pulls back reluctantly, her voice a shaky whisper.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Hmmm, and yet it’s happening anyway,” he replies huskily, his hand coming to rest at the back of her neck as he kisses her hungrily once more, his tongue licking greedily at hers.
Every part of her mind that is screaming at her to stop is silenced by his lips, all sense and inhibitions dulled by alcohol. Having been career focused for so long, her love life has taken a backseat, she can’t remember the last time anyone touched her like this. It’s exhilarating to feel wanted, desired, and so she loses herself in the sensation, her mouth moving against his with equal enthusiasm as they stumble back towards the sofa.
He presses her into the plushness of the cushions, the pair of them hastily kicking off their shoes, before he settles on top of her. He trails hot, open mouthed kisses over her jaw and neck, before bringing a hand to the front of her blouse, a quick flick of his wrist tears it open, sending buttons clattering onto the glass top surface of the nearby coffee table.
Before she is able to protest, she is silenced once more by the feel of his mouth upon her, lavishing attention to the swell of her breasts, visible over the tops of the cups of her bra. How is he able to do that, to obliterate all of her thoughts through mere touch alone? It’s dizzying, and her breaths quicken, turning to soft pants as his path continues downwards, leaving a blazing trail in its wake as he shifts his lips to her stomach. His hands roughly tug down her leggings, as he pulls away, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder once they’re all the way off.
As he rests on his haunches over her, she is painfully aware of the imbalance; he kneels before her, fully dressed, while she is beneath him in just her underwear. She squirms slightly in embarrassment, feeling her skin grow heated.
It’s as if he’s able to read her mind, his lips twitching with the ghost of a smirk as his seeing eye stares her down, darkened with arousal. Grabbing the hem of his shirt he tugs it up over his head, allowing it to follow the same path her leggings had.
She feels her core throb with want as her gaze travels down his bare torso. Lean, lithe hardened muscle defines his chest and abdomen in a way that she has only ever seen before in Grecian statues. He descends upon her again, not giving her the opportunity to admire him for long, covering her body with his own as he captures her lips again, his teeth nipping delicately at her bottom lip.
His knee nudges its way between her legs, pushing against her through the lace of her knickers, and she whines into the kiss, her mind immediately racing back to all the times his knee had bumped hers during their interviews. Is this what he’d wanted all along? The idea makes her pulse thrum and her blood run hot. It’s sick and twisted, but she can’t find herself to care, not when the friction of his actions feels so agonisingly addictive.
His lips pull away from hers, and his hand snakes between their bodies, taking up the space his knee had occupied until just a moment ago. He cups her mound through the fabric of her underwear, humming in satisfaction as she bucks her hips against his palm, chasing the pressure his knee had given her.
“Eager little thing,” he whispers darkly, hooking a finger into the elastic of her gusset and tugging it to one side.
It isn’t until the coolness of the air hits her bare flesh that she realises just how wet she is, and she’d feel ashamed were it not for the fact she can see Aemond’s pupil dilate at the sight of it.
He teases the pads of his fingers through her folds, spreading the stickiness of her arousal from her sensitive bud to her opening and back again. Her breath hitches at the sensation, every nerve ending in her body feeling as though it’s aflame.
“You’re soaking,” he murmurs, eye flickering up to meet hers.
She opens her mouth to respond, but before she can get the words out, he’s bringing his fingers away from her core and pushing them past her lips and into her mouth. She mewls around his digits at the tart taste of herself upon her tongue, and as he takes her hand, bringing it forward to cup the hardness of him through his trousers, she finds herself sucking on them, palming at him eagerly simultaneously.
He groans quietly, pressing himself against her touch. “Good girl.”
Withdrawing his fingers from her mouth and swatting her hand away gently, he unbuckles his belt, leaning back over her as he unbuttons and unzips his trousers, pushing them down along with his boxers just enough to free his erection.
She cannot see it, but the feel of it, heavy and leaking, pressing against her entrance is enough to have her walls clenching, eager to take him inside. The initial stretch to accommodate him as he presses forward causes them both to sigh softly in unison, his brows furrowing with exertion as he pushes all the way in to the hilt. The fullness of it makes her ache, and she rolls her hips impatiently, desperate for him to move.
“So needy,” he chastises quietly.
“Please,” is all she’s able to whimper in response.
His hand moves to the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of her hair and gripping it tightly. He holds her in place, so she has no choice but to look at him as he drags his hips back before snapping them forward again.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
She should stop this, they’ve gone too far already, but the buzz of the wine is still coursing its way through her, and with every brush of the head of his cock against the sensitive spot deep inside of her, the urge to put an end to what’s happening rapidly fades.
Her legs tangle with his, as she meets him thrust for thrust. He is slow to withdraw, but quick to slam forward again, driving him impossibly deep into her. His grip on her hair and the forced eye contact make it almost too much to bear. The intensity with which he looks at her, studies the contortions of pleasure her features morph into, is torturous, yet she never wants it to end.
Clinging to him tightly, her fingernails dig crescent moons into the flesh of his shoulder blades, his jaw beginning to slacken as with every push forward she feels him pulsate. He’s getting close, and she is too, the tell tale tensing of her thighs and quivering inside of her letting her know she’s edging closer to her peak.
She is desperate to turn her face away, not wanting to be staring directly into his eye as she falls apart, but Aemond’s grip on her hair is iron clad, she cannot move her head. With one last push forward, she tightens and spasms around him, a broken cry escaping her as she stares at him, eyes wide and brows knitted together as warm waves of pleasure ripple through her.
Something akin to a growl rumbles in Aemond’s throat, and she feels him still, knowing he’s about to reach his own end. Not wanting her own ecstasy to be short lived by him pulling out, she is quick to reassure him in a breathy whisper.
“I’m on the pill.”
“I know,” he groans, before letting go, spilling himself inside of her with a grunt. He lets go of her hair, burying his face into the crook of her neck as his body shudders, his length twitching and pulsing within her sensitive heat.
They remain tangled together for a few moments, both breathing heavily as they attempt to recover and slowly come back down to earth. As the blissful fog begins to lift, she is struck by a realisation.
I know.
“How do you know I’m on the pill?” She asks, her voice quiet and hoarse.
Aemond lays quiet for a moment, his breaths warm and moist against the flesh of her neck as they calm. When he eventually pulls back and looks at her, there’s something different in the way he looks at her. His stare is cold, almost crazed, similar to what she had seen the day they’d first met in the visitors room of Dragonstone Prison.
“I know everything about you,” he says with a soft smile, that doesn’t play upon the rest of his features.
Her heart lurches in her chest, fear turning her blood icy, the effects of the wine disappearing entirely as she’s left starkly sobered.
“What do you mean?” She asks quietly.
He hums thoughtfully, brushing her hair away from her face in a gesture that could be considered affectionate, were it not for the sudden change in atmosphere.
“I suppose there’s no point in keeping secrets, not now we know each other so…intimately,” he muses. “I enjoyed our talks together, I wanted them to continue, but when it became clear to me that that wasn’t reciprocated, I needed a way to continue to keep in touch. So I had you watched, followed, everything you did was reported back to me. It’s made the last five years more bearable still having a connection to you. It’s been better still being able to keep tabs myself over the last few weeks.”
Tears prickle her eyes, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. “You’re sick!”
“Am I?” He asks, cocking his head as he strokes her hair absentmindedly. “Or is that you? Because for me, our little tryst seems perfectly normal, an inevitability, considering my interest in you. However, for you, you barely know me. I’m someone you interviewed half a decade ago, and you opened your legs for me the very same day I happened to make you aware I was back in your life. I’d say that makes you a whore.”
“Get off!” She cries, squirming beneath him, attempting to push him off. The thought that his softening member is still nestled within her has her reeling with disgust. He is stronger than she is though, and refuses to budge, keeping her right where she is, as he grips her jaw tightly, forcing her to look at him.
“Behave,” he hisses, “you’ve seen what happens to people who anger me. You sat through an entire trial for it.”
“That was manslaughter,” she says in a trembling voice, a tear trickling down her cheek.
“That’s what I was sentenced for, yes, but I’ll tell you a secret…I saw Lucerys, and I drove my car towards him anyway.”
He laughs softly, as he gazes down at her, her eyes widened in horror, as her chest heaves. “His expression was rather similar to yours, actually, when he realised what was about to happen.”
“You’re a murderer,” she sobs, frantically trying to push him off of her.
“Oh, darling,” he soothes mockingly, “but you did such a wonderful job of portraying me as otherwise.”
“What are you going to do to me?!” She asks, panic fluttering acridly up from her chest and into her throat.
“Nothing at all, if you don’t overreact. Don’t get any funny ideas about going to the police either.”
“What?!”
“I don’t think your career could withstand such an enormous blunder, not a second time anyway. Imagine how that would look, the second time you’ve painted a criminal as a saint, and not only that but this time you’ve slept with him. That would be quite the fall from grace.”
He pins her wrists above her head, though all the fight has left her, she sags beneath him, hot tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I can’t believe this…”
“Believe it,” he hisses. “You’ve built your career on the back of me, and I think it’s about time you repay the favour. For five years you’ve enjoyed success, all thanks to me, while I rotted in prison. You owe me.”
“What do you want from me?” She asks weakly.
“Nothing I haven’t had already,” he tells her, leaning down to run the tip of her nose against her cheek. “Be sweet to me, and I’ll be sweet to you, because if you try to take me down over this, I can guarantee you have much more to lose than I do.”
Her stomach turns, her eyes closing in defeat. There is no escape from this, she simply has to accept her fate or endure mutually assured destruction.
Aemond’s expression has softened when she opens her eyes again. His hands move from her wrists to her hands, entwining their fingers. “There she is,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “No more tears now, you’ll spoil all the fun we’re going to have together.”
This is a nightmare, This is a nightmare. Wake up.
As she feels him harden inside of her once more, the heartbreaking realisation that she’s not dreaming settles over her. This is a waking nightmare, and it’s only just beginning.
#modern aemond#modern aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#aemond targaryen#aemond#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#aemond hotd#aemond fanfiction#prince aemond#pro aemond targaryen#prince aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#aemond fan fiction#aemond fanfic#aemond fan fic#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fan fic#hotd#hotd smut#house of the dragon
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LUCERYS VELARYON and AEMOND TARGARYEN House of the Dragon (2022)
#house of the dragon#hotedit#house targaryen#targaryensource#game of thrones#gameofthronedaily#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#prince aemond#aemond x reader#lucerys velaryon#tvedit#hotd#hotdedit#Filmtv#ewan mitchell#***
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Kiddo
Chapter eight
Kiddo masterlist
English is not my first language, be kind.
Modern!Older!Aemond x Modern!Younger!Reader
•Chapter warnings: obsession, kissing, manipulation•
Two months and three weeks after the encounter.
“Jenny is trying to steal my phone every time, I think she wants one too, but our mother doesn’t want to buy her one yet.” She said as she played with the string of grass. “She opens my messages, look at the gallery” She sighs.
Aemond looked at her, half lying on the grass beside her.
“She did?” He didn’t like it, he didn’t like the idea of her foster sister looking at their chat. “Remind me, how old is she?”
“She’s seven.”
He understood pretty early the reason why she was so naive and innocent. She lived in a house full of kids that knew nothing about relationships or sex. She had told him how she basically babysits them all the time when she’s home, because their foster mother is always at work.
“Do you have a password on your phone?” He asked then.
“No, I never thought I needed one.” She smiled at him.
What he didn’t like even more, is the idea that Jenny would tell their foster mother who he was, if she’d ever find out.
He was sure their foster mother would try to separate them, because while his girl didn’t understand how inappropriate their friendship was, her mother would know it.
She would try to talk some sense into his girl, make her understand that he was too old, that he was probably using, and manipulating her.
Half of it was true.
But he was doing it for her.
Since they reconciled, he had been able to think with a clearer mind, and he understood that he struggled to control himself when he was around her, but if he would have been without her, he would definitely lose it, to a point where he realized how dangerous he could be.
He leant forward and grabbed her soft tiny hand in his. stroking her palm with his thumb.
“We are sticking together.” He states. She looks at him surprised by his comment out of contest.
“Of course. We are best friends, Aem.” She smiled, blushing as she squeezed his hand.
Best friend.
He chuckled and nodded.
She really was something.
“I know, kiddo, I know. Just making sure.” He smirked at her. “Come here.” He pulled her to him, so she could snuggle in his chest as he hugged her thigh, both now laying on the grass.
He needed a fine dose of her to keep himself calm. He started to have her close to him, a bit of her every day, a slight touch, a hug, a small innocent peck.
Something.
Not enough to make him explode, but enough to sedate him.
Enough, to not fuck her raw on every surface they where whenever they met.
“Aem…” Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, kiddo?” He fixed her head under his chin, the pleasant smell of her hair reaching his nose.
“Your phone is ringing, it’s the fourth time now…” She told him softly. He let out a low groan, realizing she was right, and that his phone was indeed ringing in his pocket
“It’s okay, let it ring.” He said, letting out a sigh as he started playing with a string of her hair.
“Why don’t you answer it?” She asks curiously, looking at him.
“Nothing important.” He responded calmly, rubbing her hair between his fingers.
“Are you sure? Who is it?” She kept asking further, but despite he usually never liked people asking of his own business, he didn’t mind her curiosing.
“My mother.” He admitted.
“Your mother? Then… it’s probably important, Aem, you should pick up the phone.” She told him concerned.
“No, she–” He sighed. “She wants me to hire my brother.” He explained in annoyance. He did tell her he’d think about it, but he actually never changed his mind, he would never hire Aegon.
“What’s the problem with that? Wouldn’t it be nice to have him at work?” She smiled, as if she had the image in her head.
“Let’s say my brother is a lot like… Colin.” He looked down at her, smiling amused, comparing Aegon to one of her little foster brothers, Coling, was a chaos in particular, and she struggled a lot to keep him in control.
“Oh–” She chuckled a bit. “I’m sorry then.” She looked at him, caressing his arm in comprehension.
“Yeah, I can’t really trust him to work with money.” He looked to the side, sitting back up leaning back on his hands and bending his knees, making her sit as well. She crossed her legs and leant back on her hands. Her wavy cream dress covered her to her knees.
“You could take him, I believe. Your brother… you mean the older one, right? He’s an adult, I believe you could teach him some sense and responsibility.” She suggested as she took a string of grass to play with it.
“Teach Aegon?” He laughed. “You can’t understand, kiddo, he is a lost hope.”
“I believe in you, I think you could make it.” She smiled at him, excited.
"You trust me that much, mh?” He looked at her. He knew she did, but it felt so good to hear it.
“You know I do. You just have to make him care about what he does.” She blushed, refusing to look at him.
“Alright then, I guess I’ll do it.” He said then, making her raise her head surprised, looking at him with her eyes widened.
“Really?” She said happy. He nodded, smiling amused at her silly excitement over something so futile. She sat on her knees to get closer to him, and let the string of grass fall on the ground to take his hand in hers. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah, but you know what? I just got an idea.” He looked down at her hands caressing his own.
“What?” She was looking at him with those big eyes of hers, and God, he loved to have them on himself.
“I just found what you can do to make me forgive you.” He looked at her as he said that. She immediately furrowed her eyebrows and blushed violently.
“I– I thought you already forgave me.” She says as she starts biting her lower lip. He glanced at her lips for a brief moment, even if she was looking at him and she noticed. She blushed even more and looked down at the ground.
“Yeah, but it has to be more official.” He explained as he leant closer and raised her head by moving his hand under her chin. She nodded slowly, her teeth still nibbling her lip.
“Alright then, what can I do?” She looked up at him.
“Two things, but one is more for you actually.” He smirked, proud of his plan.
“Really?” She asked, confused and surprised. She moved closer to him.
“Yeah, you want to hear them?” He liked to see her so eager to know what he was thinking. He knew he had to go slower with her, and not repeat what happened at his apartment to not scare her away again.
“Yeah, I’m all ears.” She smiled.
“Well, one, I’ll keep you company after you babysit, yeah? You tell me when the kids will be asleep, so you won’t be alone. I’ll leave before your mother will be back.” She immediately smiled at his proposal.
“Yeah, that’s sweet.” She said softly, looking at him with gratefulness.
“But what will get you forgiven is…” He pulled her closer, not being able to resist the occasion of having her near, and so he could look at her face.
“A kiss, whenever I ask you one.” He looked down at her, studying her reaction.
“A kiss? We already kiss!” She chuckled, as Aemond looked at her amused.
“Not those kisses, kiddo. I want them on my lips.” He whispered as he leant even closer, caressing her cheeks softly.
Her breath hitched and she had some trouble finding something to say.
“A– A k–kiss on t–the lips? A–Aemond I..” She stuttered as she shook her head in confusion.
“It’s not that bad, kiddo is it? Does the idea of kissing me disgust you?”
“What?! No! No, Aemond–” She immediately answered, but he interrupted her again, as he gripped both of her cheeks in his hand.
“Then you don’t want to be forgiven?” He asked then, his grip on her cheeks tightening slightly.
“No! I– I want to be forgiven, Aem, I’m really sorry for how I’ve behaved, I never meant to hurt you and… I–” Her eyes started to get filled with tears as she started panicking.
“Shh, shh, kiddo I know.” He pulled her to sit between his legs, hugging her close. “I know you’re sorry.” He repeated soothingly as he tightened his embrace and caressed her back. She immediately hugged him back, holding on to him.
“I’ll do it.” She mumbled with her face hidden in his neck. I’ll do it, please forgive me.” She sobbed.
“I will, kiddo, I will.” He raised her head and wiped her tears away. “Stop crying, I’m staying here. Okay?”
She looked at him and nodded, sadness still evident in her eyes. He smiled at her as he moved her hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ears and he pressed a kiss on her forehead.
“Why don’t you kiss me now, so you’ll find out if you like it? Mh?” She moved her head to the side, but he used his hands to turn her back to him. “Maybe you’ll end up loving it.” She looked at him and nodded. He smiled as he kept caressing her face. She put her hands on her higher thigh, as he sweetly kissed her temple.
Gently. He had to do it gently.
He kept kissing her face from her temple to her cheek, leaving a wet trail behind. He heard her discontinued breathing as she clenched her hands on his thigh.
“Put your hands on my shoulder kiddo.” He suggested her as he pulled back enough to see her eyes. She nodded and moved her hands to his chest then placed them on his shoulders, squeezing them lightly. He smiled at her as drew her closer.
“Do you like this? Do not lie.” He asked her as he rubbed her back and kissed her chin.
“I–I never lie…” She pouted for a moment, making him chuckle. “I… I like this.” She admitted blushing again.
He crushed his lips against hers.
He wanted to go softer, gentler, but how could he, especially after she finally admitted she is enjoying his attention?
She gasped and leant back her head, surprised by his sudden gesture. He slipped both his hands in her hair, keeping her close, as she tightened her grip on his shoulders.
“You're addicting, kiddo.” He whispered so lowly, he almost wished she couldn’t hear his slip.
He pulled back and smirked as she saw her with her eyes closed, trying to reach his lips again, before she opened them and looked at him, her head turning red tomato.
“Was it bad?” He smirked and pulled her immediately back as she moved to sit further from him. He wrapped one arm around her back as his other hand caressed her cheek again.
“Tell me, kiddo, did you like it or not?” He asked her again, looking at her as she shied away pursing her lips, not wanting to answer his question.
“Don’t you want to let me know if I did well, mh?” The hand on her cheek slipped again in her har, as he massaged her scalp with his fingers.
“I– I did…” She mumbles softly, embarrassed. He smiled even more as he pressed his forehead on her temple so he could whisper in her ear.
“Do you want more kisses?” He asked her, feeling her shiver at the idea. “I don’t mind, we can, kiddo, we are free.”
She turned her head towards him, so that they were face to face, forehead against forehead.
She pressed her lips together, thinking hardly, as she stared at his lips.
That sight of her, could make his cock hard in a moment.
But he contained himself. He gave her her time, waited for her to move first.
“Free?” She repeated, wanting to be sure that he was telling her the truth. He closed his eye and pressed his forehead against her.
“Free, kiddo.” He opened his eye again, and saw her look up at him, leaning forward a moment, but then going back. At last, she decided, and she pressed her lips against his, like if she was giving him a peck on his lips. Aemond smiled and moved his lips to make her open her mouth so that he could finally slip his tongue in her mouth, tasting her again after a week. He groaned and pushed himself more against her, making her back up.
“My sweet kiddo.” He groaned as he pushed her back even more, he wanted to make her lay on the grass, and get on top of her.
He wanted to touch her, but he restrained himself.
He wanted to take all of her on the grass, under the sunset, here in the open air where no one could hear them, and he could make her yell as much as he wanted to.
That would be such a sweet way to take her virginity.
But he did not allow himself to touch her, or he was sure he would have not stopped at her request, and as much as appealing all of his thoughts were, he couldn’t.
Once they were both lying, he rested one of his arms over her head as his other arm took her hand and intertwined their fingers, hoping to resist the urge to touch her body.
He kept kissing her like a mad man, biting her lower lip slowly, just like he wanted to do when he saw her earlier bite her own lip. He nibbled it between his teeth, pulling it slightly, making her moan. He smirked and let go of her.
“Make that sound again for me.” He kissed her again devouring her, as he kept squeezing harder her hand, in a way he knew was starting to hurt her, but he couldn’t stop kissing her, so he tried to not squeeze her hand too much.
She suddenly pulled away from him, making him furrow his eyebrows, he pulled her back into another kiss, but she turned her head again, rolling or her stomach.
“I lost track of the time!” She explained, worried, reaching her phone on the grass close to them. Aemond groaned, letting her go but keeping still on top of her. He leant his head down, resting her forehead on the back of her head, as at her every move her bum brushed dangerously his crotch.
“I gotta go, Aemond, my brothers and sisters will be back in a few minutes…” She explained to him, saddened, looking back at him.
He growled and kissed her shoulder, rolling on her side then getting up.
“Yeah, let’s go, kiddo, I’ll drive you home.” He gave her his hand and she grabbed it to lift herself up as well, so he pulled her against his chest again kissing the top of his head, making her chuckle embarrassedly and blush.
He smirked, amused by her ever consistent shyness and rubbed the top of her head as he started walking to his car, a few meters from them.
They walked to the car in silence, but it was fine, they always had a comfortable silence between them. Sometimes when she called him during work and he was in his office, they talked for a while, then they just stayed on call in silence, just enjoying knowing that the other was there.
They got in the car and she watched outside her window, mesmerized by the sight of nature.
“How’s your little garden, kiddo?” He asked as he glanced at her.
“Colin took half of the tomatoes off before they were ready.” She sighed. “But I managed to stop him in time. My lemon tree is about to give me three lemons, I think I’ll make some jam or a pie.” She smiled at him. ”I’ll surely bring you some of those.”
“We’ll eat it together.” He nodded as they quickly arrived at her house. He stopped the car and looked at her, then he quickly got down and went to open her door.
She got out chuckling and jumped up in front of him.
“My mother will be working late next week…” She blushed as she looked up at him. “I’ll text you the day and the time?” She looked at him, hopeful. Aemond smirked and caressed her cheek.
“Of course, kiddo.” He assured her, and she smiled happily.
“Alright then…” She looked to the side for a moment, then she suddenly turned and gave him a quick peck on his lips, leaving him stunned as she ran away chuckling.
“I’ll text you!” She laughed as she ran smiling toward her house, looking back at him.
He’ll never let her go.
He would get rid of anyone who might try to get between them.
There was no way someone would ever steal such a sight from him.
Her hair swayed at every step she took, her dress skirt moving in waves.
He stared at her until he was no longer able to see her. He lit himself a cigarette and turned, acknowledging a person standing a few meters from him.
“Are you looking for someone?” A woman, over middle age, her hair a mix of blonde, white and gray strings.
“No.” He said coldly, annoyed to have been caught. “Just looking for a holiday farm, guess I picked the wrong turn.” He gave a quick, plausible explanation, enough to not make her suspicious about him.
“Yeah, it happens a lot.” She turned and pointed to another house, distant but visible from where they were. “You’re probably looking for that holliday farm? You take that way, then you turn left, then all straight.” She explained to him. He nodded in comprehension.
“Thank you, have a good night.” He got in his car and quickly drove off, looking at the rearview mirror to see if the woman stood there looking at him.
She got back in her car, and drove home.
Her home.
She was her foster mother.
Now she knew what he looked like.
He just lied to her, and if she was ever to find him around again, she will immediately remember.
“My mother will be working late next week… I’ll text you the day and the time?”
He didn’t want to say no.
But if her mother saw him…
“Fuck!” He yelled as he hit the steering wheel. It was not going as he planned, and he hated it.
If her mother saw him with her daughter, she would immediately think of this night, and scare her away from him.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
He will not let that happen.
He could make her disappear.
Fuck, that was… an idea, but not a good one.
All he knew was that he couldn’t lose her.
Ever.
He’ll find a way.
One way or another.
Tag: @zenka69 @blaustappen @julczimozart @diannnnsss @i66cilla @queenofthekeep @summerposie @tssf-imagines @vaylint @sweet-nothings-s @esposamultifandom @av989436751 @ladythornofrivia @xcinnamonmalfoyx @deliaseastar @kotadislikesthissite @nebulamorada @madelynwalt @shari-berri @seraphdayiwah @witchy-jadda @odeioemail @alphard-hydraes-blog @isntitdelicatevivi @famousrebeldaze @ssnapsaurus @paigeestrawfordd @mamawiggers1980 @aemondracarys @aegonswife
#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#aemond x reader#aemond x you#modern aemond#aemond#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x y/n#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#prince aemond targaryen#house of the dragon aemond#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond one shot#aemond targaryen angst#dark aemond x reader#hotd aemond#aemond the kinslayer#aemond fluff#aemond targaryen fluff#hotd x reader#hotd season 2#hotd fanfic
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Rhaenys's Letters
The Fall from The Heavens Universe Chapter
[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: description of discomfort associated with menstruation, symptoms of depression ]
[ description: The messages Rheanys sent to Aemond in The Fall from the Heavens over eight years. These are Aemond's favorite letters, to which he returned most often – her letters, which appear in the main chapters, are also added. ]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
My other works: Masterlist
_____
The First Letter
One day of separation
My dearest Prince,
know that my heart is torn by despair and disbelief. I pray for you and your health every day. I hope that as soon as you feel better we can meet. I am sending you books that I thought might interest you.
Your Rheanys
The Second letter
Five days of separation
My dearest Prince,
I am writing to you to ask what is your state of health. I imagine that you must suffer terribly and that is why you have not found the strength to answer my letter. I promise to wait patiently for a word from you so that I may see you again.
Your Rhaenys
The Third letter
Two weeks of separation
My dearest Prince,
Your silence worries me. I know that you are certainly angry with me and my brothers and I understand that. I want you to know that I am immensely, immensely sorry and I will do everything I can to ease your pain and suffering, if you will only let me. I miss you very much.
Your Rheanys
The Fourth Letter
Two months of separation
My dearest Prince,
my mother is about to remarry, which will mean that we will be moving to Dragonstone permanently and will probably be visiting the Red Keep very rarely. I ask you for this grace to be able to see and embrace you before we set off on our journey.
Your Rheanys
The Sixth Letter
Six months of separation
My dearest friend,
I've been practicing breathing fire with Larax today. Looking at her, I remembered how you visited her with me in the Dragon's Pit. I am convinced that my dragoness misses you as much as I do. I would love to know what your training with Vhagar is like.
Your Rheanys
The Eighth Letter
Ten months of separation
Today I heard a powerful storm outside the windows of our fortress. Lightning flashed through the sky as if it were the gods in their anger wanting to show their fury. It reminded me of a legend you once told me about, that it is the enraged Warrior who throws them in fury at men who bring dishonour to their fathers.
The Ninth Letter
One year of separation
It has been a year since I saw you for the last time. Gods witness to me that my heart breaks at the very thought.
The Tenth Letter
One year and two months of separation
Although I smile, my insides do not feel joy. It seems to me that I am no longer capable of it. The days flow through my fingers and I don't even notice it.
The Eleventh Letter
One year and four months of separation
Me and my family are heading to the Eyrie to pay a visit to my mother's relatives. I've never been there before and I'd be delighted to share my thoughts on the place with you when we return.
Rhaenys
The Twelfth Letter
One year and six months of separation
The Eyrie is a beautiful fortress seeming to reach for the sky. The legendary Moon Door we both once read about are terrifying and, indeed, leaves the doomed with no chance of survival.
My cousin, on the other hand, is a very emotional boy, even more so if something doesn't go his way. I assume this is due to the fact that he only has a sister whose opinion he does not value. I suspect he wouldn't arouse your sympathy either.
The Fourteenth Letter
One year and ten months of separation
Larax is growing so fast. Daemon says that one more year and I can try to ride her. I can't wait to fly to the heavens on her back.
The Fifteenth Letter
Two years of separation
The Septa says that a lady should never hold a blade in her hand. I must admit that I do not understand this reasoning. What if there is no man beside her to protect her? Is it better to be dead but full of dignity than alive and worthy of condemnation? I regret that I never asked you to teach me how to wield a sword.
The Seventeenth Letter
Two years and four months of separation
I reminded myself that in a few days it will be your Name Day. I hope my letter will reach you along with my warmest wishes. I ask you to take care of your well-being and your health.
The Eighteenth Letter
Two years and six months of separation
Today, something terrible happened, and although I know these things don't concern you or may even cause you disgust, I can't confide in anyone else about my suffering. My bloody flower has blossomed. My mother says that I have now become a woman, but I feel nothing of the sort. I feel dirty, I feel pain, I feel ashamed. I don't want to be a woman. I don't want to be a wife. I don't want to be a mother.
The Nineteenth Letter
Two years and ten months of separation
I feel terror, uncle. When I wake up and fall asleep, when I embroider and eat, when I take a bath and read. I have a feeling that something is about to happen, but only a sullen silence surrounds me.
The Twenty-second Letter
Three years and two months of separation
Does it sometimes seem to you too that you are living in a half-sleep? That the people around you are a smudge, that what they say reaches your ears but not your mind, that you feel and experience nothing?
In the presence of my family it seems to me that this is just a figment of my imagination, but staying alone in my chamber I find that I put on a mask in front of them, under which there is nothing but silence.
The Twenty-third Letter
Three years and six months of separation
I have been reflecting on our childhood recently. How charmingly naive we were then, how simple our lives seemed to me, and what the future held for us. It was always safe in your arms. It was a feeling I had not experienced for three years and would never experience again. It was not your strength or bravery that caused this, but your words, how perfectly you always understood me.
Your rejection is a torment.
The Twenty-fifth Letter
Three years and eight months of separation
Do you think we were really in love with each other then, when I kissed you for the first time? I have often wondered about this. I remember that day exactly, your emerald tunic, the smell of the lemon cake I brought you as a consolation. The taste of your lips, moist, full and warm, your heavy breath, your trembling hand that touched my cheek and your later request.
I felt as if, without the presence of the Septon, we had become husband and wife in that moment.
The Twenty-sixth Letter
Three years and ten months of separation
My mother gave birth to a healthy boy today, who was named Aegon. I thought the heavens had mocked me and my brothers when I saw his snow-white hair. I hope you feel satisfaction, uncle.
The Twenty-seventh Letter
Four years of separation
Ever since Dragonstone resounded with the squeal of an infant, a little hope has risen in my heart. Little Aegon is growing fast and is very loud.
The Twenty-ninth Letter
Four years and two months of separation
Today me and Daemon took a walk among the cliffs. I'm glad that he treats me like an adult and speaks to me about important things. Apart from him, only you have never treated me like a child.
The Thirty-second Letter
Four years and eight months of separation
It's been four years since I haven't seen your face. It makes me wonder how much you've changed. Are you tall like Jace, have your hands, your arms, your stature changed. I try to imagine you often, but I catch myself with horror that your face is blurred in my memories and I cannot see it clearly.
The Thirty-third Letter
Four years and ten months of separation
Today I flew on Larax for the first time. It was a terrifying and wonderful experience at the same time – my heart was pounding like mad as we took to the skies together. I didn't know it would be so loud, the wind and speed completely stunned me, but for the first time in months I felt free. As I flew I thought of you and your Vhagar.
The Thirty-sixth Letter
Five years and four months of separation
I recently read the reflections of a philosopher that I wanted to share with you. He writes that every human being is like a fortress. The more walls we put up around us, the more secure we feel inside, but also the more isolated we become from the world. If we don't take the threat and leave it, no one sees us as we are and we become like the stones of which it was built – without feelings, without desires, without hope.
The Thirty-eighth Letter
Five years and eight months of separation
I can't believe it's been almost six years since I've seen you. I'd like to say I'm in despair, but that's not quite true. I feel a great emptiness, as if I have a hole in my heart. It's not painful, but it's a bit like a tickle that makes it impossible for me to have peace of mind. My desire is to stop feeling anything at all.
The Fortieth Letter
Six years of separation
I am sending you a piece of poetry that made me think of you:
and though she did not know why,
her heart remained turned towards him
her body went forward, and an emptiness lingered inside her
as if it was no longer a part of her
The Forty-third Letter
Six years and six months of separation
Baela asked me if I had ever desired someone, and I didn't know what to answer her. What is desire? Is it a purely physical sensation or something that happens in the mind? I craved your kisses because they were warm and soft, because they made you as close to me as possible, joined with me by your body.
I craved all of that, not just the touch of your lips.
The Forty-sixth Letter
Seven years of separation
I was reflecting today on what duty is. The duty of a husband to his wife, a wife to her husband, a son to his mother, a daughter to her father. I always wanted to be faithful to our family because I thought it was one. Now that it has been cut exactly in half, I feel that although I want it to be united, I am contributing by my very existence to its further disintegration and destruction. We control the dragons, but we cannot control our own vanity.
The Forty-seventh Letter
Seven years and two months of separation
Have you ever wondered what Essos and the temples of Old Valyria looked like? How powerful was the kingdom of our ancestors? And what remains of it? Balerion is a mere skull, the temples are ancient ruins.
Ashes and dust.
The Fiftieth Letter
Seven years and eight months of separation
I'm being affected by that terrifying emptiness again, uncle. I thought maybe it was simple melancholy, but this is something else, more disturbing, as if someone is sneaking up on me in a dark room. My mind is constantly vigilant, constantly sharpened. Even when I sleep, I don't rest, I wake up in the morning more tired than the evening before, and my mouth, though many words would like to leave it, remains closed.
The Fifty-second Letter
Seven years and ten months of separation
Sometimes I think I have gone deaf. My mother or brother say something to me, I look at them but I don't hear them or understand them. I respond with anything, I don't know what myself, and I return to my mind, locking myself in. I get distracted too easily and I don't know what it is caused by. Even when I read, I catch myself looking at a certain point for many minutes, being on the same page over and over again. I am in my chamber with my body but not my soul – I eat, drink, sleep but I experience nothing, nothing pleases or saddens me. I exist in a world that is nothing but an unpleasant disappointment to me, and whose strict rules I have long since come to terms with.
The Last Letter
Eight years of separation
Dragonstone appears to me like a prison, like a black coffin, the sky above me full of clouds. I can’t remember the last time light dawned in my heart − when I wake up I wonder for a moment about the meaning of it all, only to realise that thinking about it is pointless, it only sinks me further into the darkness.
It seems that the more I move away from what surrounds me, the greater the silence that settles in my head.
After what happened something inside me died.
Not in the aspect of my body, but in the sense of a conviction that something is missing, like when you look in a mirror reassembled from hundreds of pieces and, even though it is whole again, you can clearly see its cracks.
I wonder, are you sleeping well, uncle? Are you having nightmares again? I often return in my dreams to that night. I see you and although I want to say something, I can’t get anything out, just as I did then. I wake up with the conviction that I am still a child.
I pray a lot, although I don’t know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don’t answer me, just like you.
#aemond targaryen#aemond fic#aemond fanfiction#hotd aemond#aemond x niece#aemond x wife#aemond x female#aemond x female character#aemond one eye#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen#aemond fanfic#canon aemond#hotd fanfic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fic#ewan mitchell fanfic#ewan mitchell fanfiction#aemond x oc#aemond x original character#aemond x original female character
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EWAN MITCHELL AND TOM GLYNN-CARNEY for esquire magazine – june issue.
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#hotd#house of the dragon#tv shows#aemond one eye#team green#hotd s2#aegon ii targaryen#king aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii#aemond x aegon#glytchell#tom glynn carney#photoshoot#hotd s2 promo#esquire magazine#i'm so obsessed with these two#they know perfectly how to promote#actors#celebs#they are so hot#green siblings#esquire#hotd aemond#hotd aegon#aegond
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Redraw of Ewan’s iconic look in Mexico
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