Summary: Modern!FemaleReader has a delightful sex dream.
Paring: AegonTargaryen x Modern!FemReader
Word Count: 2077
Warnings: Hints of voyeurism (thank you honey for this), oral (male receiving), p in v.
Author’s Note: So, this did not win the poll results, but gods help me, it was in the lead for a while, so I took initiative and started writing this.
But then, the poll ended and it did not win. Anyway, here is this one-shot you technically did not ask for. ♥
A huge thank you to my beta readers @f4ll-for-you @aspen-carter @squirmhoney Seriously, I cannot thank you enough for your time to read over, share your insight and criticisms to help me be a better author.
This is going to be a one-shot, but who knows? It is me, after all. A feral raccoon with a keyboard.
Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess
Series: This is a one-shot in the same AU as Call It Dreaming
Update, How To Keep Seeing My Smuts & Other Writers'
As per Tumblr's New "Community Label" Update
Hello! I've seen other writers make a post about the new update, so I wanted to make one of mine to notify my readers.
As you may know, Tumblr is pushing a Community Label update in which users are allowed to filter the content they want to see. While this is highly beneficial for those who want to avoid seeing content they aren't fond of, this can make you stop seeing the smuts a lot of writers in this community create.
If you want to keep enjoying our smuts:
For Website:
Go to Dashboard Settings, and click the Show circle in the Community Labels section on Mature content. Do the same for Sexual themes. You can choose whether to tick the options of the other choices or not.
Image taken from @writerpeach <3
For Mobile:
Go to Account Settings, then choose Content you see.
Go to the Community Labels section and click the arrow beside Hide on Mature. Then, click Show for both Mature and Sexual themes. Again, it is your choice if you want to tick the Show button for the other choices.
Thank you for reading, and reblog to spread the word!
Yall please make sure your settings are up to date. A lot of really amazing writers have haters lurking and reporting their great works so they'll get hit with a label. This brings our interactions down a LOT because so many people don't know about this setting and it keeps our work from showing for them. Yes, we write and share our work for free on here, but interactions go a long way for us and honestly, help us feel motivated to keep going, so please share, please check your settings and please keep reblogging the fics you like!
Summary: Aemond and Aegon both yearn for their mother's approval. It angers them when she immediately meets and favours the Princess of Dorne. They come up with a plan that ensures their mother never says your name out loud again.
Dedicated to @pluvialpoet, @bitch-biblioklept
Merry Christmas 😘😘
"I wish she'd choke on that olive and die." Aegon utters viscously.
From his spot beside his brother, Aemond almost spits his mead. If he was a man with any less self control, he might have laughed.
Instead, he turns to where his brother is watching sourly, to his mother, talking animatedly with the Princess of Dorne.
He can't deny your beauty, though he may hate you with every fiber of his being, he cannot deny that dornish dress was made for you, that your expanse of exposed skin and well done hair is anything other than breathtaking.
It's a shame that he indeed, also wanted to squeeze the breath out of you.
"Mother lets her get away with too much," Aegon continues, breaking into his brother's thoughts, "She tried to suggest to me how I should ride my own dragon."
Aemond raises a precarious eyebrow in shock and amusement.
"The worst part is the fucking bitch was right."
You were truly, proof that the gods had a sense of humour. Why else would they send someone so blood- boiling and so beautiful?
Though Aemond doesn't supply any verbal agreement of his dislike for you, he acknowledges it silently. He ached to wipe that smug smile from your face.
~~~
You liked to torment, and the Princes of the seven kingdoms had made themselves easy targets.
Like now, Alicent had promised you her younger son would accompany you through the shopping districts of King's Landing, and you were having a fun time reminding him at every moment that he'd been lent out like a hired sword.
You stayed beside him, looking up with triumphant smiles as he looked needlessly bored.
"What do you think of this colour?" You say, raising a light blue fabric to your face so that Aemond could compare them.
The Targaryen simply sighs, doesn't glance at you and turns away.
You pout.
"You're not being a very good help, Prince Aemond." You say, walking around to stand in front of him. Under his eye twitches once in annoyance.
"Ah, perhaps the import of wine and rare fruits are not as important to the Royal Family as I thought." You say in sorrow, turning away, only to grin when you feel Prince Aemond grip your upper arm to pull you back.
"Is that a threat, Princess Martell?"
"Gracious no!" You exaggerate with a smile, "I'm simply pointing out that Dorne's supplies can't be that important with the way you treat me."
You think you could hear his teeth crack with the frustration.
A shiver of pleasure floats down your spine.
Finally, he looks at the fabric in your hand.
"I hate it." He says finally, releasing your arm.
You hum in appreciation, putting it back.
"What is your favourite colour?" You ask, moving to keep up with his lengthy strides, shaking your head politely when someone tries to beckon you into their shop.
Again, he doesn't respond.
"Prince Aemond-"
"-Princess Martell." He says in a clipped tone, stopping to turn to you, "I am just a protective hand. If you require an opinion, I suggest you ask your ladies in waiting. It is their purpose."
Oh, you loved playing games.
You keep your eyes on his, wondering what's under his eyepatch.
"Leila," you call to one of your ladies' maids, you hear her step forward expectantly, ready to assist.
You don't stop looking at Aemond.
"Can you inquire as to the Prince's favourite colour?"
If only looks could kill.
There's a moment before Leila decides to open her mouth to speak on your behalf.
"Pardon me, my Prince-"
Aemond cuts her off with a look.
Pushed too far, he turns, and leaves you in the streets, disappearing into the crowds before you can say another word. You admire the sway of his hair as he walks away.
~
Aemond wasn't surprised that you'd told his mother. Sitting in his room, staring out at King's Landing, he's not fazed by his mother's sudden intrusion.
"I can't believe you," she starts, "the Martell house is a well respected and important family, the least you could do is treat her accordingly."
"You're lucky I didn't kill her." He says easily, studying the people below. Her silence speaks volumes.
"I had sought to make a match of you two, but maybe I should spare her the trouble." Alicent informs.
Aemond swivels on his mother.
"You would wed me to that spoiled brat?" He asks in disbelief.
"She is nothing of the sort!" Alicent's voice heightens as she approaches, "She is kind, and well learned and incredibly creative and if you could see that you would-"
"-Never. I would never." He spends a moment deep in thought before quietly asking, "Why do you like her so much?"
Alicent moves to his side, tucking her hand under his chin to tilt his head up from where he's sitting. He allows it to happen, because this is his mother, his blood.
She looks at him, Aemond watches some type of sorrow move over the planes of her face.
"I think she could love you. Aegon- has been forced to marry for duty, and you get the chance to marry for something else."
Aemond rolls his eye.
"I would have been happier marrying for duty." He responds.
Her grip on his jaw tightens.
"Consider it your duty to me then."
"I'll think about it." He appeases. He'd already thought about it. He would marry you when hell freezes.
~~~~
Aegon was not faring any better with you.
He'd been having his merry time with a serving maid when you'd walked into the small nook they'd been hidden in.
You'd cleared your throat, and the maid- whose name he couldn't care to remember- had slipped away and ran past you with a rushed excuse.
An annoyed sigh slips past his mouth, looking at you with droll irritation.
You didn't even flinch, smiling at him when he approached you to walk past.
"Can I ask, Prince Aegon," you blurt, humour deepening when he pauses to give you an annoyed glance, "Have you ever been with a willing woman?"
The silence is both amusing and poisonous.
You don't expect it, but it doesn't surprise you when he grips your shoulder tightly, slamming you into the same wall he'd had the other maiden pressed against.
"Do you have any idea who I am?" He growl, leaning into your space, till your breaths intermingle, "I am a Prince of the seven kingdoms and you will not speak to me as if I am your equal." He hisses, and not for the first time, the anger in his violet eyes stirs something delightful within you.
You soften your voice, tilting your head up and continuing to meet his eyes in an attempt to look more alluring.
"I meant no disrespect, Your Highness, but there's only so many times you can have your cock sucked by an inexperienced, unwilling woman before it gets boring."
He moves a hand from pinning your shoulder to the wall to wrap his fingers around your throat. Your eyes flutter with the pleasure it brings.
"Perhaps I like my women unwilling and inexperienced."
"A shame," you hit back, "When the opposite could incite pleasure you've only ever dreamed of."
His fingers tighten around your neck.
"Are you offering?" He asks, reducing his grip to allow you to speak.
"You wish." You respond, and before another word can be said, you're raising your hands to knock his away from your body, pushing him back to a respectable distance.
He hits the opposite wall with a muffled thud.
"I'll remind you, Prince Aegon, that I am a lady, and I am capable of removing your hands from your wrists should you touch me again without permission." You move to walk away, pausing in afterthought to turn back to him.
"So, have a nice day, Your Highness." You say, bowing your head respectfully, giving him a small smile, before backing away.
Aegon doesn't understand how he feels for hours after. On one hand, how dare you threaten him? On the other hand, why did it make him feel giddy on the inside?
He blames it on his mother.
~~~~~
He knows what's coming when Alicent storms into his room while he's taking a bath.
"You will not touch Princess Martell again, do you understand?"
Aegon huffs, wiggling his fingers in the warm water.
"It was harmless really, I can't believe she told you that."
"Except that she didn't tell me, the maid you'd been forcing yourself onto did."
Aegon can't help the smile that grows on his face.
Alicent leans forward angrily to dash water into the prince's eyes. He grunts in displeasure, wiping at his stinging eyes.
"I am trying to create a union between her and Aemond, I would appreciate if you would keep your filthy hands to yourself." Alicent hisses.
Aegon laughs long and hard.
"Aemond will kill her the second they are wed, mother, she is a nuisance- so- well- wait- I don't know what I'm saying, go right ahead and wed them." He smiles deviously.
She frowns, sighing, she leans against the bathtub, deep in thought.
Awkwardly, Aegon looks down at his cock, thinking that having his mother here did not inspire the debauched activities he was hoping to get along with.
"Why do you both dislike her? She is exactly the type of person I'd hoped for."
Which was the entire premise of the problem. That you had walked into the castle and earned the favour of the Queen, affection her sons could never hope to attain.
What could Aegon say? That he despised you because she loved you? The words would only get him slapped harder.
Instead, a dangerous idea rears its head. One so dark and twisted that the very thought of it had probably damned his soul.
He waits until dinner, to speak it aloud to the only other Targaryen who understands.
~
You sit at the opposite end of the table, clothed in emerald green. A colour that emphasised the way Aegon and Aemond felt about you.
Aemond hated the way the jewels sat on your skin, he wanted to cover them in your blood, slit your throat open and watch in satisfaction as you struggled to speak another word.
You laugh at something King Viserys says, and Aegon yearns to watch you cry.
Finally, he turns to his brother.
"Killing her is not enough. I want her very name tainted." Aegon whispers.
Aemond smiles at the thought.
"What do you have in mind?" He asks.
Aegon thinks for a minute.
"What's worse that getting her pregnant out of wedlock?" Aegon asks.
Aemond already has the answer prepared.
"Making her want it." Aemond supplies easily.
Aegon looks over at his brother in surprise.
"I don't know why I get called mother's worst child when you're more devious than me."
Aemond sips his mead, deep in thought.
"That's because you always get caught."
Aegon laughs.
~
You'd managed to ignore the princes tonight, having tormented them enough for the day, you only sit back and enjoy dinner peacefully.
You listen to the stories Alicent's father, Otto, weaves, and you smile along or laugh politely where necessary. You explain the landscape of Dorne when asked, and you tell them about some of the customs.
You leave out the customs you know they'd find appalling, they could never hope to understand the way Dorne holds the pleasures of the body as an important aspect of life. That you'd read books on pleasure enhancement alongside your history books when you were ready for it. Your virginity had only remained intact because of your status, as a formality to your future husband, should he be someone outside of Dorne. You knew that these people would never understand that. There was too much currency placed on a young woman's maidenhead for your liking.
You blink, refocusing, realising that your eyes have been locked onto Aegon's face the entire time. He smiles, leaning in to say something to his brother while still looking at you.
It makes you a little nervous. What could they possibly be talking about? No doubt some plot to get back at you.
You liked the idea more than you cared to admit. Aemond was gorgeous and calculating, Aegon made you burn with your desire for him. You shouldn't be thinking this way of either man.
When dinner is finished, you find your way to the library with a cup of ale. The place is almost empty at this time of night, and you enjoy the feeling of being alone and reading books by candlelight.
The words are funnier when you're inebriated, and you enjoy reading the thoughts of maesters who have clearly missed the points of the subjects they're speaking about.
When you hear the door to the library close and locks, you look up in surprise.
"Prince Aemond." You greet, standing, bowing your head in acknowledgement. When you notice his older brother behind him, you nod your head again, "Prince Aegon."
Both men look like they're up to no good.
"Princess Martell," Aegon says happily, "reading so late at night?"
"Uh, yes, I'm- actually I was just finishing up." You say, looking back at the books sitting on the table.
"Oh, there's no need, sit with us, we'd like to see what you're reading."
You don't get a chance to protest, finding yourself sitting on the wooden bench with Aemond on your left and Aegon on your right, both men closing you in.
"Is this yours?" Aegon asks, gripping the half filled cup of ale, taking a sip before you can open your mouth to affirm. He puts it down beside you, and you swallow when he leans closer.
You try to lean away but Aemond is a solid wall behind you, and you find that you can't move too far away from Aegon.
"Don't you hate when people don't know their place, Princess?" Aegon asks, and you swallow when he rests his warm hands on your knees. You don't push them off, not wanting to be disrespectful too soon.
"I'm not sure what you mean." You say softly.
"No? I can give an example." He sighs, smiling still, when you try to turn away from him, his fingers hold onto your knees harder to keep your attention.
"Aemond here is a Prince of the seven kingdoms. Third in line to the throne, rides the largest dragon in the world." Aegon's eyes illuminate with amusement, "Do you think he should act as a sellsword because the Princess of little shithole wills it so?"
You swallow, the level of trouble you're in finally sinks into your head.
"I only asked-"
"-You only asked," Aegon hisses, "and my mother agreed." He reaches up to grip your jaw, "What sway you must have on her, what influence."
You raise your hands to push him away, but before you can, Aemond has grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind you. You make a little sound of surprise, wiggling in an attempt to get out of his iron grip to no avail.
You turn your head to the side, taking your jaw out of Aegon's grip angrily.
"How dare you put your hands on me." You say lowly, struggling still in Aemond's grip, his breath in your ear, "Let me go."
Aegon laughs.
"It's time you learned, Princess, that you cannot have everything you want."
When Aegon kisses your collarbone, you gasp in surprise. He tugs your night dress a little lower so that he can trail his mouth from one clavicle to the other.
"Stop this, Aegon." You plead, trying to pull away from him.
"What's the matter, Princess?" Aemond whispers in your ear, your heart picking up its pace at the sound of his voice, "Don't like being taken advantage of?"
You whine.
"A little help, brother?" Aegon asks, and you feel Aemond's hand grip your jaw, turning your head.
You make a quiet sound of displeasure when Aegon presses his lips to yours. You try to shake both men off but it doesn't work.
Aegon laughs into your mouth, clearly enjoying your discomfort. Automatically, you begin to kiss back, trying to grab any semblance of control you have.
Aegon's lips are soft and plush, he's gentle and commanding with his mouth all at once. It's easy to get lost in it, to forget where you are when you have his tongue pressing into your mouth to trace over yours.
You hum in bliss, getting lost and enjoying it, only being brought back into your body when Aemond laughs in your ear.
"She likes it." He says when Aegon breaks the kiss, "What a whore." Aemond teases.
Your mouth drops open, you begin to struggle in his grip once again.
"Let me go." You grunt, and you try to pretend that hearing both brothers laugh lowly at you doesn't bring on a spike of arousal.
Aegon's eyes devour you, roaming over your body. His tongue traces over his bottom lip, and you feel like nothing more that a feast for the prince.
"Aemond," he says, eyes still caught on your chest, "Your knife."
Fear squeezes your throat.
"No way," you breathe, beginning to struggle when Aemond pulls a knife from his belt and gives it, hilt forward to Aegon.
You're panting, swearing, wriggling, but Aemond's grip is too tight, and you can't seem to get away.
It doesn't take much for Aegon to rip the front of your dress open. You suck in a deep breath to scream and Aemond quickly claps a hand over your mouth. You grunt behind it as you feel your nipples pepple in response to the open air.
"Fuck." Aegon breathes, and you close your eyes shut to avoid the way he admires you.
The knife drops on the table, you whimper behind Aemond's hand when you feel his brother cup your breasts.
"She is... as magnificent as I thought she'd be." He whispers in reverence.
You jerk when he pinches one of your nipples gently.
You don't see his head dip, but the next thing you know, his tongue laves lazily over your breast.
You can't resist a muffled moan.
You give another shake of your shoulders, not trying as hard to escape Aemond's grip.
You can feel your toes curl in your shoes, Aegon is gentle and precise and you shiver at the feel of his hands and his tongue on your body.
When you can do nothing more than relax, Aemond takes the opportunity to tilt your head to the side so that he can meld his lips to yours too.
It's almost too much, one Prince licking over your breasts, swirling his tongue over your skin, the other, delving his tongue deep into the hollows of your mouth, redefining every thought in your head. Your eyes closed shut, trying not to enjoy the rapt attention you're being given.
Aegon pinches your nipples firmly and you gasp in pain, swiveling your head to meet his eyes in betrayal, but all he does is lean forward and capture your lips.
"You don't have to do this." You whisper, as Aemond kisses your throat and Aegon kisses your lips.
"I do, Princess. You give me no choice." Aegon answers and you don't get a chance to respond as you feel Aemond's teeth sink into the skin of your neck.
Your entire body shudders, with bliss you can't process, you shake violently, pressed between both men.
"I think the whore likes being marked." Aemond observes. You whimper in disagreement.
Aegon cups your cheek, leaning in so that he's almost hovering above you. You look up at him with pleading eyes, he tilts your head so that he can see the mark Aemond has placed on you.
"What will they think, Princess," Aegon tuts, "When they see you all marked up tomorrow? How quickly my mother will cast you out."
"N-no. Please-"
"If only you'd been nicer, less of a brat. Maybe we could have gotten along."
He turns your head back to face him.
"Open your mouth."
You frown, shaking your head.
"Aemond." He says, and you feel a hand on your jaw, squeezing tightly and you can't help the little sob that leaves your throat.
Aegon reaches for the cup of mead. He takes a long sip just as Aemond works your jaw open.
Aegon leans in, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he lets the mead from his mouth slip past his lips and into yours.
Aemond chuckles behind you, clamping your mouth shut, and covering your mouth and nose with his large hand in an attempt to force you to swallow.
You do, gasping for air when he takes his hand away, not liking the sound of their devilish laughter at all.
"I'm going to kill you both." You hiss.
It only makes them laugh more.
"Hear that, brother?" Aegon says, reaching to cup your breasts in both hands and press them together, "She just threatened us."
"I do believe that counts as treason." Aemond murmurs.
"To which the punishment is death, but I'm sure we can come to some arrangement, can't we, Princess?" Aegon follows, his fingertips tracing down your ribs.
He grips the material of your skirt in his hands, bunching it up until it sits on your waist. Though you wriggle, he puts his weight on your legs, stopping you from kicking him away.
He pulls at your undergarments, reaching for the knife to cut them away, you whine, trying to garner some pity.
Next, he's pulling at your legs, until you're lying on the bench, Aemond holds your hands above your head, your body situated between his spread thighs.
You try to kick at Aegon, worried that he's about to take your virginity, but all he does when he spreads your legs is look.
After a moment, he laughs.
"How wet you are, Princess." He praises, you gasp when his thumb swipes over your little bud.
He takes his time, which is way worse that him being rough, his thumb rubbing at your center, pleasure swimming through your senses, until your thoughts are muddled. You sigh, mewling when he leans down, kissing the tops of your thighs.
This wasn't something you were aware men outside of Dorne could do.
Aegon is soft, doesn't rush his kisses on your skin and you wished you could pull your skirts out of the way to get a proper look at him between your thighs.
You definitely stop struggling when he presses his tongue to your center. Your mouth parts in surprise. Was this supposed to be a punishment?
You look up at Aemond, who hovers above, looking down at you with something akin to amusement. You close your mouth, trying to mask the way you feel from him.
As if that was ever possible.
"How does she taste?" Aemond asks, and you burn with the way he talks about you like you're not in the room.
It takes Aegon a moment to raise his head from between your legs.
"Like nectar." Is all he says, burying his face in your cunt once more.
He licks you till you're trembling, his tongue dancing on your heated centre, your thighs wrapped around his head. The candles that you'd brought in with you have been significantly burned down, and you can only speculate that it's somewhere near midnight, and yet, Aegon keeps tasting you, drinking from your centre in an almost desperate manner that makes you want to moan. You bite your lip so hard to stop from making any sound that you can almost taste the iron of your blood.
All the while, Aemond looks at you, his eyes devour every expanse of your skin and you think that his eyes alone is stimulating enough, but then he's reaching out, fingertips tentatively grazing your soft breast.
His touches grow more firm, and he's rolling one stiff nipple between his fingers before moving over to the next.
You whimper, kicking your legs in useless frustration. Aegon's tongue begins moving faster and you can't fight either brother and at this point you don't want to.
Your orgasm knocks the breath from your lungs, you feel your womb clench deliciously as pleasure swims through your system. You make pitiful noises of pleasure, hands in tight fists, trembling as both boys pause their torment.
After a moment, you feel your senses slowly begin to come back to you.
"The way you gush Princess," Aegon murmurs, eyes still locked on your center, "puts whores to shame."
A sad, needy sound leaves your lips. You can feel an indent on the inside of your lip where you'd been biting a little too forcefully.
"What do you think, Aemond?" The prince asks, "Has she been used well enough today?"
The man in question looks down at you, finally releasing his grip on your arms.
You don't move, confused at what they planned to do now. Would they take turns fucking you?
"I think she has." Aemond says, breaking you out of your desperate thoughts.
Before you can register anything, both Princes have stood, leaving the room with soft steps, closing the door behind them.
You sit up, confused and disgruntled and wondering what happened to make them stop. It takes you a moment before the horror of realisation overtakes you.
alicent: look, i don't want aegon to die. you don't want aegon to die. so let's work together to make sure aegon doesn't want aegon to die.
aemond: fantastic plan but have you ever fucking met aegon
“Princess,” The woman bows before you, and though the gesture is meant to convey her respects towards you, it feels entirely wrong to remain with your head held high while hers hangs towards the floor. “The Queen extends her apologies for the feast upon your arrival,”
Perhaps, the maiden is confused. It makes little sense why the queen herself would extend apologies towards you- especially when you should be the one extending your apologies to her for the scene caused on your behalf- and you wonder if the messenger has delivered her message to the wrong person.
“I am not the Princess of the Vale,” You offer clarity to the woman- who looks neither embarrassed, shocked, nor surprised by the revelation, but remains silent whilst you speak your piece. “I believe you are looking for my betrothed’s sister, Olira. I shall fetch her at on-“
Like many of the other servants, she knows little about the mysterious woman of the Vale. Far and few of the whispers she’s heard have proven to be true- you are quite beautiful, in your own right, and there’s a bashfulness about you that’s not quite girlish enough for it to be confused with naivety, but, much to her disappointment, you are quite dull in comparison to the illusion of the woman such gossips have painted you to be.
She wonders, briefly, if it is all an act- a disguise meant to fool even those who can not be fooled- but decides that you are not capable of such cunningness. Even after a few moments in your presence, she knows that your heart is genuine- pure, in a way that not many are.
“You are the princess consort, are you not?” She seeks confirmation even though she already knows the answer, and at the mention of your future title, your features fall ever so slightly- but she notices. She always notices- even the smallest, most minute details she wasn’t supposed to- because those details gave way to the truth, and the truth was what secured her meals and the cloth upon her back.
“I am, but I am not yet the princess consort, nor a princess.” There’s an unintentional waver in your voice that gives way to the false confidence you attempt to display in the presence of your company. It’s an honest answer, from an honest woman, but it prompts another question- why are you reluctant to claim your title, and, what is the reason behind your hesitancy?
Both questions are meant to be pondered, and, perhaps, offered as new gossip to the highest bidder.
“You will be soon enough.” Her smile is pleasant enough to distract from her silent treachery, and you mirror the action with a tight press of your lips. “Queen Alicent extends her mercies and sympathies over the spat the other night.” A reiteration of words previously spoken is offered, along with a garment- which the woman drapes across the blankets on your bed. “She had one of the finest seamstresses in King’s Landing sew this creation- as a token of her sympathies for the belittlement you suffered at the tongue of the princess.”
A stunning, dark green tempts you. The gown is by far the most beautiful piece you’ve ever seen, let alone owned. The sleeves are long, with black ribbon woven along the arms and an intricate design along the bodice. The stitching along the neckline reveals stars of black and gold, and you have to resist the temptation to reach out and brush your fingers across the delicate embroidery.
“I assure you, I have not suffered,” You withhold the truth in favor of protecting Princess Rhaenyra’s reputation. “This is all entirely too much, I simply can not acce-“
“Her royal highness insists,” The servant urges, making it difficult to refuse Queen Alicent’s generous offer. For a moment, she wonders if you’ll truly reject the gift and the unspoken allegiance your acceptance would swear you to, but when your fingers reach out to trace the stars along the neckline, she knows that you’ve made up your mind- and unknowingly sealed your fate. “If there is ever anything that you need, please, do not hesitate to ask.”
“What is your name?” You wonder aloud, desperate to know the name of the woman your gratitude extends to for showing such kindness on behalf of the queen.
“Talya, princess,”
Forced to enter a loveless marriage- built solely upon deceit- you can’t help but wonder if lust is the only thing keeping the flame of your marriage ablaze. As the years slowly pass, you begin to question how long your union will prosper without the presence of love, and what will become of the smoldering spark of desire when it fades away to nothing more than ashes and embers?
(It's Aemond and Aegon centered... threesome based you see)
You liked to torment, and the Princes of the seven kingdoms had made themselves easy targets.
Like now, Alicent had promised you her younger son would accompany you through the shopping districts of King's Landing, and you were having a fun time reminding him at every moment that he'd been lent out like a hired sword.
You stayed beside him, looking up with triumphant smiles as he looked needlessly bored.
"What do you think of this colour?" You say, raising a light blue fabric to your face so that Aemond could compare them.
The Targaryen simply sighs, doesn't glance at you and turns away.
You pout.
"You're not being a very good help, Prince Aemond." You say, walking around to stand in front of him. Under his eye twitches once in annoyance.
"Ah, perhaps the import of wine and rare fruits are not as important to the Royal Family as I thought." You say in sorrow, turning away, only to grin when you feel Prince Aemond grip your upper arm to pull you back.
"Is that a threat, Princess Martell?"
"Gracious no!" You exaggerate with a smile, "I'm simply pointing out that Dorne's supplies can't be that important with the way you treat me."
You think you could hear his teeth crack with the frustration.
A shiver of pleasure floats down your spine.
Finally, he looks at the fabric in your hand.
"I hate it." He says finally, releasing your arm.
You hum in appreciation, putting it back.
"What is your favourite colour?" You ask, moving to keep up with his lengthy strides, shaking your head politely when someone tries to beckon you into their shop.
Again, he doesn't respond.
"Prince Aemond-"
"-Princess Martell." He says in a clipped tone, stopping to turn to you, "I am just a protective hand. If you require an opinion, I suggest you ask your ladies in waiting. It is their purpose."
Oh, you loved playing games.
You keep your eyes on his, wondering what's under his eyepatch.
"Leila," you call to one of your ladies' maids, you hear her step forward expectantly, ready to assist.
You don't stop looking at Aemond.
"Can you inquire as to the Prince's favourite colour?"
If only looks could kill.
There's a moment before Leila decides to open her mouth to speak on your behalf.
"Pardon me, my Prince-"
Aemond cuts her off with a look.
Pushed too far, he turns, and leaves you in the streets, disappearing into the crowds before you can say another word. You admire the sway of his hair as he walks away.
annaxmalina
titsay
yousharknotpass
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
baratheonpilled
