We're pleased to announce our second Bottomond Week. This is a fandom event encouraging fanworks centered around bottom!Aemond Targaryen. (In the Rules section of our AO3 collection, we define at least four ways that bottom can be interpreted)
All ships (including OCs) are welcome, the only requirement is that Aemond is the bottom.
All verisons of Aemond are welcome: cis!Aemond, trans!Aemond, fem!Aemond, omega!Aemond
This event will run from the 24th to the 30th of August. This is an 18+ event where both SFW & NSFW fanworks are allowed.
On social media use the hashtag #bottomondRYPE
All forms of fanworks are welcome and encouraged: fics, threadfics, moodboards, etc. You will be able to post your fics to out AO3 collection, and other forms of fanworks can be posted on Tumblr, Twitter and Bluesky using our hashtag #bottomondRYPE.
How To Play:
Generate Your Prompt:
Roll a six-sided die, or use a rng for each section: Eat, Play, Love
Use those prompts to craft an ideal date night for your ship.
Use your prompts to create a fanwork and share it! Prompts are meant to inspire creativity, not limit it. Interpret them however you'd like.
For example:
With these rolls your prompts would be A Feast (Eat), Dancing (Play), & Make A Choice (Love). You can interpret this combination of prompts however you want to create your fanwork for this event.
There is no limit to how many fanworks you can make for this event. So roll as many times as you like and most importantly, have fun!
-ËË| summary: in the comfort of his marital chambers, Aemond is able to let go.
⧠| Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader
⧠| word count: 2.5k
⧠| Warnings: MDNI 18+, masturbation (m), bottom!aemond, dom/sub dynamics, (lowkey) desperation play, aemond gets teased a lot (and he fights back⌠that brat)
⧠| notes: i discovered that bottom!aemond (@bottomondweek) was last week... yeah, i am publishing it now. sorry... if it is not allowed to publish it now, i will tag it properly. based on day six: physique
Aemond wasnât keen on weakness.Â
He didnât think any Targaryen was, because simply they were made by Gods to be different. Made to rule, to bond with dragons and control them. He knew that, and he always tried to make the most of that privilege the Gods gave to him.Â
So when his mother required him to marry, he did so without fuss. A lady of a great house, and he did it dutifully. She was a graceful lady, elegant yet with a strong personality. He had seen her scold men at court as if they were mere kids who needed a spanking from their wet nurse.Â
And Gods forgive him, but he liked that. It spurs something in him that he didn't acknowledge completely.Â
âYouâre skinnierâ You notice, as you both lay in bed together. He wore only his short breeches, mid-thigh as he was hot from the warm bath he had taken.Â
âIâm notâ
âYes, you areâ You insist. âI know my husbandâs bodyâ
He cannot argue with that, as he looks away a bit caught. He didnât understand how could you notice something so small like that.Â
âHere, you are skinnierâ you say, pressing your hands in his waist, your hands a bit more cold against his skin, and he blushes slightly, feeling how you grab his waist.Â
âStop itâ
âWhat?â
He feels your hands, caressing softly the sides of his waist, as if he was some kind of maiden. He had seen it in court, when a knight did so with the lady he was courting. It was borderline lewd, to do so in public and at court. But here, he was in his marital chambers, alone with his wife.Â
âYouâre tickling meâ he murmurs between his teeth.Â
âIâm holding youâ
It is foreign, the feeling of being held. He doesnât even remember being held as a kid, less more as an infant. Why would he want to be held as an adult?
âHere you are skinnyâ You murmur, kissing his cheek as your lips remain close to his face. âYour stomach is flat, doesnât even look like youâre a prince who can have any food he wants to stuff his belly full. Of dornish wine, or the finest meatâ You say, moving your hands to his abdomen.Â
âI train with the sword. I ran around the yard of the Keep. I am not letting myself go as did Aegon. I doubt he could lift a sword.âÂ
âYou talk too muchâÂ
He raises one eyebrow as you manage to fit him in your arms, pressing soft kisses on the side of his face. Aemond couldn't understand you sometimes. It was utterly confusing.Â
âWhat about it? Am I lying, you imply?â
âNo, but itâs always a complaint. Your mother this, Rhaenyra that, your father this⌠That Jaehaerys pulled your hair, that Vhagar took a small flight, that Aegon is a whiny cry babyâŚâ You say absentmindedly as you caress his stomach.
âHe isâ he insists, a bit grumpy now. He doesn't like being called out so accurately.
âSo are youâ You retaliate to his words, almost pinching his skin to reprimand him as well.Â
He grumbles something about being unfair, the least he needs now is to be scolded by you. He wanted to relax, to calm himself with a bath and then be comfortable and lazy for once.Â
âWhat, are you mad?â
Silence.
âAemond. Are you mad?â The more quiet he is, the more amused you are âIs my love upset?â You say in that tone that it is condescending enough to make him turn around and frown at you, his cheeks red as his embarrassment kicks in.Â
âStop itâ
âWhat?â You ask again, moving your hands to his breeches now. Your tone is the same as the one when you first held his waist. âLet me take care of you⌠hm?â
He hates his traitorous cock because it eagerly reacts to your touch, as if he was a puppy in need of affection or else he will perish. Even if he remains grumpy, he doesnât move away from your touch and he doesn't plan to.Â
He pulls his breeches down to his thighs as you accommodate to sit, rather than lying in bed. Aemond knows that youâve taken interest in this.Â
âYouâre sweet like thisâ You say, your hand moving to grab his (embarrassingly quick) hardening cock. He grits his teeth as he sighs, enjoying the feeling of being touched.Â
He hates to admit it, he is too prideful for that. But he likes when you take initiative, as you toy with him however you want and see fit for the day. When you boss him around, telling him how to behave.Â
âShut upâ He murmurs.Â
You smile, as his cock feels heavy already, hard, leaking and larger. Youâd always admit he has a nice cock, and he was very careful with his appearance, too vain not to trim his pubic hair. It makes you smirk a bit.Â
âWhat?âÂ
âYouâre a bratâ
âIâm notâ
You donât fight with him like Aegon does, as they would soon be in a childish fight of âyesâ and ânoâ. It frustrates him, because he remains upset and you, as always, so calm. He looks at you, trying to sit up.Â
âGods, canât you be still?âÂ
He remains frowning, leaning on his elbows to see exactly how you start caressing his cock. Aemond tries not to whimper as his shoulders seem to shake, and he bites the inside of his mouth as he decides to watch.Â
Your hand is slow enough to tease him, you always did everything so slow. From the base, slowly caressing its way to the top, and as soon as it catched his tip, it was already back down. Slow, but not enough to make him enjoy the feeling completely.Â
Aemond wasnât patient, and you knew it too. As you caress his cock, he lets out a little whimper, softly as you start caressing the sensitive head, already red and leaking under your soft touch. He was a slave to your touch, no matter how it came.Â
âDid you say anything?âÂ
âNoâ he mutters, trying to feign his facade of stubbornness and disinterest.Â
âMhm, OkayâŚâ You say with a smirk, as your other hand comes to cup his balls.Â
You were killing him.Â
He didnât know why he had to be so sensitive, as if the mere touch of his balls was enough to get him whimpering and shuddering. He bites his lower lip as he turns to face the ceiling, enjoying how delicious it was to have your hand stroking him and fondling his balls softly.Â
He can feel the heat on his groin, all he feels is how the pleasure inside him starts to boil. Turning down to see his cock, he was leaking, coating your hand as the drag of your hand was delicious, and made him raise his hips to follow your motion.Â
âAh, ahâŚ. Fuckâ He hisses under his breath, not helping the whimper following. He tries to ignore it, even if he sees how you smirk widens.Â
Your hand on his balls was as excruciating, because both hands worked independently to have him a moaning mess like this, and it worked. He was sensitive with his balls, and the small tug wouldâŚ
âAh!âÂ
When you look up to see him, he moves his gaze away, embarrassed.Â
âYou sound so pretty, loveâ
âShushâ he says. âKeep goingâ he says, referring to his balls. He can feel your knees brushing against his right thigh, as you were sitting comfortably, as if you were not torturing him.Â
âPff, those manners? I ainât doing nothing but a favour to youâ
âThatâs completely rid-âÂ
Aemond gets cut mid sentence when he feels your hand lower than his balls. His head immediately turns to see you, his cheeks red.Â
âWha-â
âIâm teasingâ you say simply, as he feels your fingers brushing against his rim.Â
âKeep your focus hereâ He practically demands, moving his legs softly.Â
âYou start to sound like Aegon, you knowâ
âI donâtâ he says, the redness of his face not going away. He tries, again, to sit straighter, extending his elbows to make his presence known. âYouâre baffling, and you are⌠you make meâŚâÂ
âKeep being this insufferable and I might bend you on my knee and force it out of youâ
He frozens, mid sentence and looks at you with an expression almost as a deer caught in a hunt. You see his thoughts forming behind his eye, as if he tried to understand.Â
You only seem amused at how red he is at a mere jest. The tip of his ears were red, from embarrassment, no doubt. His paleness only made it more obvious, plus his platinum hair.Â
Youâd never done so before. Sure, you sometimes would tease him around, even get him to allow you such delights rarely. Touching anything related to his rear, for example.Â
âYouâre beingâŚâ he starts, almost insulted.
âI donât wanna hear itâ
âYouâll have toâ
You roll your eyes exasperated. âYouâre making this impossibly difficultâ
âIs you the one thatâŚâ
The soft slap in his face shuts him up. It was not harsh, at all. It barely even had a sound, no sting at all, it was mostly to move his face and stop him on his tracks.Â
He could feel his cock heavy and practically hurting, demanding attention. He would have gotten his orgasm if he knew how to shut up about his secrets when you had your hand on his cock.Â
âStop whiningâ you repeat. âI am going to stroke your cock however I want, and Iâll do whatever I want until you cum. Understand?â
He feels a bit self conscious, and most small in comparison. A bit ashamed even, but it only creeped like a bit of horniness too.
âYes.â He murmurs.
âYes whatâ
âYes maâamâÂ
He feels like a dog saying it, but feeling your hand back at his cock is worth it. He wonders why he is so needy, to the point where a single command of yours, or your hand on him could make him a fool, following your every word. As if he was Mushroom, made to entertain your whims. Â
Aemond sits up better, leaning on his hands, as your right hand moves to separate his thighs to have better space between his legs. He feels like a maiden, which makes him feel embarrassed but⌠he doesnât care now. He lets out a simple sigh as rests his head on your shoulder.
âY-yes, fuckâ he stamers, his nose nuzzling the naked skin of your neck, his breath warm and starting to become quicker by each drag of your hand.Â
He sees your hand, moving up and down with such grace and elegance, as if it wasnât the lewdest of acts. It made his head spin, his eyelids fluttering at the feeling of your hand rubbing his tip in circular motions. He bites his lip, feeling his cheeks pink and his balls heavy with lust.Â
âHow does that feel,honey?âÂ
He tries to answer, but he doesnât trust himself enough now. He opens his mouth, only for a moan to come out. Aemond was so turned on, feeling his cock burning with desire as you caress it.Â
âFeels good?â
âYeahâŚâ He says softly, his hips moving softly to follow your lead. He breathes out, trying to keep calm.
You keep going, moving your hand as he moves his hips to his own rhythm. He was getting needy, you knew, and he was insufferable when needy.Â
He presses somewhat reverent kisses on your neck, whimpering and trying to hold himself as he attempts to do everything he wants at once. Heâs an overachiever like that.Â
âWanna use my thigh to cum? Hm? Would that be better?â you ask sweetly, and he hates how he immediately nods.Â
âYes, pleaseâ He even begs for it, but at the moment he doesnât think about it much.Â
He has to change the position, holding himself better for when he rubs his dick into your thigh. It was crumbs of what he truly needed, but he was thirsty for anything. And most because he knows heâs making a show out of it for you; if he was turned on, so were you.Â
He practically ruts himself against your thigh just as he gets the green light, his hand gripping the bedsheet to hold himself as he moves his lips.Â
His mouth falls open, he can smell the scent you used for your bath earlier, and everything he can feel around him is you; overwhelming him, guiding him, pleasing him, loving him. Itâs all he needed, deep in his soul.Â
You can feel his tip smearing precum against your thigh, and you watch how hard he was as his cock rutted against your skin. He moans, he trembles, and itâs all an indicator of his pleasure and how close he was to his peak.
âGood boyâ you murmur, to which he whimpers. âYou wanna mark my thigh, darling?â
He nods, his expression almost a needy pout, begging for you to say yes.Â
âWanna cum on my thigh?â
He nods once again, and he politely says âYes, please. Pleaseâ He adds the last one out of pure desperation to cum, his balls feel heavy and his spine practically shivers at the impending orgasm that he has been trying to delay.Â
You drive him to the edge, which you know he enjoys. At least afterwards, because you know that when heâs not allowed to cum, it is pure and animalistic desperation.
âVery well then, you can cumâ you say, your hand moving to his face, cupping his cheek so his eye can see yours, assuring him as always âItâs okay, I got youâ you say to him, as he whines, yet you know heâs about to cum. âGo on, cream on my thighâ
Aemond doesnât need to hear it twice, practically squealing as his orgasm hits him before he can truly process it. He knows heâs making a mess on your thigh, his cock pumping his cum out as if he was milking your pussy. It doesnât feel the same, of course, but the mere thought has him letting out a groan as he tries to get it out of his system.Â
He takes his sweet time, making almost sure his balls are empty before laying by your side, without more energy for anything more. Not for now, at least. He snuggles closer; needing that warm embrace and forehead kisses that, as predicted, you give to him.Â
âHm. Iâll need to have another bath, it seemsâÂ
He doesnât answer, just humming as his face was pressed against your clothed breast. He sighs dreamily, relaxing as he feels his cock softening.Â
âLook at that mess, darlingâ you say, teasing him. He opens his eye, and sees what you mean,, his cum on your thigh and surely it is a mess.Â
âHmmm⌠you let me do itâ he protests weakly, hiding his face on your chest.
âI did, didnât I?â you ask softly amused. âYou did good, my love. Why donât we sleep now? Would you like that?â
He hums, nodding, but not really moving. He was practically boneless by now, and he can only say âYesâ, and knowing you will, once again, indulge him.Â
Summary: It was exasperating that his mate hardly ate enough to keep from falling over but couldn't be kept from returning to his everyday tasks and prior engagements after losing their pup. Arriving three moons too early, the babe had been no bigger than a grapefruit in Aemond hands, but regardless, his omega stayed in bed no longer than a day before throwing himself back into organizing their retainers for their next shipment expected from Myr and met with Alyn to negotiate the lowering of port fees."
Or, Aemond and Lucerys learn how to move on after losing their first pup.
...He had no idea how they could get back to this, to Aemond staring at him like he was an enemy again. Lucerys hadn't felt like such an outsider in quite some time and wondered how he could ever get his husband to look at him again with affection, or desire, or something that wasn't absolute loathing whenever he tried to talk to him.
Swallowing a large mass that had gathered deep in his throat. Luke cursed when he felt his eyes prick and began to sting, knowing Aemond wouldn't appreciate it. Yet between all the mixed and painful feelings he was trying to manage, Aemond also stirred a deep, thundering anger he hadn't even realized was laying dormant until it was already bubbling his stomach and frothing up from his mouth.
âI'm sorry you face the brunt of this,â Luke said, doing everything he could to talk through the lump in his throat with a steady voice, hearing how cold and terse it sounded instead.Â
âBut I lost her, too. Our pup wasn't an it to me. I still â â Spend every night wondering if he shouldâve held her before Vhagar burned her, even if she had been just a tiny bundle. He still couldn't focus on anything Errold or Alyn said in any meetings, especially when Aemond still attended, even though he kept his back to him every night. He still thought about the pup every day and wondered what she would have been like. Did she have any hair yet? Had it been dark like his, or silver? Did she even have an eye color yet?
Wiping his eyes quickly, Luke's voice sounded deep and unusual when he heard himself, but he knew it was just the sound of him trying not to choke.Â
âShe's gone. And it hurts me, too.â
Behind them, Luke heard the sounds of the carriage he called for and was grateful for the distraction.Â
âI'm taking your horse back,â he grit between his teeth as he climbed on his husband's horse, nodding pointedly to the carriage. âI'll see you at home.â
Aemond had yelled after him, but Lucerys didn't turn back as he rode back to High Tide.Â
That was the first night Aemond returned to his own connecting bedroom in their shared apartments that he had not used in over a year until now.
It was said that there was a beast that lived on the island of Dragonstone. The young Prince Aemond was determined to slay the monster, to bring peace to the realm.
But upon traveling to Dragonstone, Aemond was not confronted with a creature, but a beautiful being. The prince could not slay the creature before him. Instead, he fell in love with him.
Seventh and last entry for @bottomondweek
I had an absolute blast creating these art pieces for this challenge. So happy to have been a part of it. đĽ°
Hello!! I wrote this small piece for bottomond week 2025! Iâve been planning on writing a sick fic where Aemond is the whumpee/sick character for a while, and it seemed a good fit to do it for this event. I know itâs late but I think it fits the Light criteria, it can also go in the Free category.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife/Reader Sick!Aemond x Caregiver!Wife
Prompt: Sickfic, hurt/comfort, lots of fluff, happy marriage
Warnings: Mentions of light to moderate illness
(English is not my first language if you see any errors I'd be glad you tell me so I can correct, thank you!)
  âWhich one do you think would suit me better?â She asked, holding two sets of earrings close to her ears. The blue one, matching her gown, and the white ones looked like small snowflakes cascading down almost to her shoulders, a fine match with the season. âIs it too much, these white ones?â She reiterated, turning to the gilded mirror on the wall to see herself with a piece of each set in her ears.
  Aemond sat in the corner of their chambers by the fire, almost fully undressed, a chess set abandoned beside him, he had lost with her, again. The prince stroked his chin, gazing at her and quite uninterested in her question. âI believe both are suitable," He turned his head towards the bed where his own clothes were lying for him to dress, feeling depleted of will and energy to finish such a task in his hands.
  His wife was not satisfied with his answer. She turned slightly, facing away from the mirror, looking directly into him, demanding the attention of her dear husband that she so rightfully deserved. Without any more words from her, he added, âbut the blue ones are better on youâŚI do prefer sapphires."
  âYou know how much I hate indifference as an answer, husband, glad you could be helpful, thank you.â She finished placing the jewels in her ears and walked close to Aemond, cupping his face in her hands. She looked at his chest and wrists, still red from the marks she left him with. âOh dear, I was rough this morning, itâs still a bit red, sweetheart, you have such delicate skin, such a precious lil prince.â Her fingers traced the small marks with a playful expression.
  âHmm, indeedâŚBut I do love it when you mark me like this. You always know my limits so well, you do take such good care of me afterâŚâ
  âSweetheartâŚdonât talk like that to me, youâll make me undress again, and we are already scandalously late.â She kissed him and picked up his clothes from the bed so he could get ready as well. Dowager Queen Alicent was in the mood for having more dinners as a family, with her sons and daughter and her grandchildren, the refined dinners were more of a constant of late and it was expected of them to take part.
The small event was no different from the others. Except for one thing. The one eyed prince gazed with his single eye far away from the small crowd, as if he was not really there. He did not seem into eating or drinking, much less talking, and for once his wife thought he was even quite dizzy.
 When the dinner was over and the couple came back to the chambers, the wife stood looking into her husband as he undressed to his night clothes. She stepped closer to him, placing a palm on his temple. âYou donât look like your usual self â, his cheeks unusually pinkish. âYou seem quite feverish, do you feel ill?â Her expression turned to genuine concern as she sat beside him on the bed with his face between her palms.
  âNonsenseâŚitâs just the fire, it felt like Vahgarâs fire down there, with how hot it was burning, and it was tremendously boring tooâ he dismissed her concern, bringing her hands into his chest.
  âAnd yet you did not take off your coat, my husband..â
 âMy wife worries too much. I am well, but if I feelâŚunwell, I surely will inform you, my lady,â he assured her, pressing her hands to his chest. She took the opportunity to look at his own arms and confirm the marks she left him with were now almost all gone, phantom lines of their last lustful session.Â
  The winter night came with small flakes melting by the window, and the young couple embraced each other in bed, her head resting on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart, which seemed more anxious than usual. Rest did not came for Prince Aemond, and with that, rest did not come for the lady as well. The prince turned and turned, more furs, fewer furs, nothing seemed quite well. Then, coughing, the unease breathing settled in. She turned him over to his right side and cuddled him in a little spoon, planting soft kisses in his hair and scratching his back and chest softly with her nails under the heavy blanket. For a while, the prince did sleep, but by morning break, he could not deny he was feeling very unwell.Â
  âMy sweet angelâŚâ she said softly to him, âyou ARE sick, very sick, I must say.â Without him saying a thing she sends the maid to fetch the Maester.
  âI do not possess the courage to deny that statement, wife.â Even his voice sounded weaker and strained. The princeâs skin, now clammy and feverish, looked like wet marble with the red veins in his eye shining a bit too much from the fever. And as much as he tried to conceal it, the coughing and the shortness of breath were just impossible to hide. âBy the Gods..I feel disgusting, this sickness on my skin and lungs, I canât breathe well, and I just feelâŚneedy.â he added with an embarrassed expression.
âWorry not, Iâll make sure all your needs are metâ After sending for the Maester and demanding fresh water and linen to be delivered, she also commanded the servants to bring simple foods for the prince. He tried to avoid it, hunger was not really in his mind right now, but his wife was adamant that he needed to eat and drink something nevertheless. She propped Aemond carefully in bed, placing some feather pillows for him to rest his back and ease his breathing. She did it so delicately and so tenderly as if he were made of fine glass.
  âYouâre not so gentle when you tie me up in this bed to ravish me,â he tried to lift the mood with the comment, giving her a slight smirk.Â
  âI am not, dear husband, youâre also not sick like this when I do that.â She lifted the blanket from his chest and cleaned it with a cloth, doing the same with his arms and shoulders, giving him a new and clean night chemise to put on. Then she took care of his face, cleaning and refreshing every inch of it. She knew how much her husband despised feeling unclean, especially in bed, covered in his own sweat. âThe maester will be here soon, I hope, I'm sure he will give us something to ease your pain, my love.â
 âYou must not worry this much, wifeâŚâ Aemond held her hand on his own. âJust a simple cold most likely, itâs not a cause for such commotion, there was no need to send for him"
  âEven if it is, in the deep winter, you know colds can turn into difficult situations, and illnessâŚâ She immediately recalled Lady Ary, her late friend, who had died months prior from a prolonged respiratory illness. â...is a serious matter, husband. Your health is of the utmost importance to me.â So she could not have a bone, a hair in her body that was not worried about it, better safe than sorry, she thought.Â
  The Maester arrived shortly after being called. He started the examination by observing the prince, asking some simple questions about his symptoms, and asking his wife as well. Then he took his wrist, felt his pulse, and looked into his healthy eye. âCould you please remove the chemise, my prince?â The young prince obeyed him reluctantly. When he needed to close his ear to the princeâs chest, to listen to the breathing and heart, his skin crawled in protest. He did not say a word, but his expression did, it felt odd to him to have someone who was not his wife so close to himself.
  After the careful examination, Maester Orwyle gave his verdict, âIt seems Prince Aemond is indeed afflicted by illness affecting proper breathing, and he does have a severe fever.â
  âI think that much I could tellâŚâ Aemond responded, waiting for the Maester to actually tell him a miracle solution to his problem.Â
  âMy princeâ Orwyle, always calm, polite, and wise, took notice of his patient impatience. âYou must remain in bed rest until you recover properly. It would be unwise to place stress on your lungs and heart when they are fragile. Iâll prepare an infusion and mixture to help with the cleaning of the body. Some steamed water with these herbs could also help to gently ease your breathing. Heavy coughing is expected during the next few days, your body needs to clean off what is causing the illnessâŚBut I believe youâll feel much better after all that comes out.Â
 The lady made sure to give the prince every potion and infusion that the Maesters and the healers delivered to their room. And the prince? Behaved like a child while drinking most of them, but felt a sense of pure happiness every time his wife was so attentive and over cautions with all his treatments and symptoms. She also made sure to have a maid present at the door all the time, should an emergency occur. As the Maester said, the coughing was constant, and nothing seemed to ease the princeâs affliction. In one particular bad fit, his wife braced him in her arms until he threw up what he had taken to break the morning fast. The prince looked absolutely defeated, embarrassed, mortified, and so small he could not say a word. With all the ease and grace his wife took care of the situation, cleaning it all and setting him in place once more, cleaning him the best she could. âMy love, donât worry about anything, drink some more water with the infusion, Iâll send the maid again to fetch the Maester to prepare some more sourleaf and willow barkâ
 âIâm sorry, loveâŚand thank you for your patience and care,â his healthy eye looked into her like a poor baby animal, desperately thankful for her presence and touch. She did not sleep much during the night, vigilant to her husbandâs every detail. The prince did manage to sleep for a while after the Maester induced him with a small sedative.Â
  When the morning defrosted the windows, and the first sun ray hit the prince, his wife was already preparing a warm tub of water with herbs. He had sweated profusely during the night, but his fever did break, and the Maester thought it wise to allow a bath not just to clean off the illness but also to lift the spirits of the prince.
  She started unlacing his night chemise after kissing him good morning. His pride was struggling with the situation, but it was not the first time they shared such moments after 3 years of marriage. It still felt alien to him sometimes, to have that feminine presence at all times by hi side.
 The lady told her maid to bring new and soft cotton and furs too to cover him when he got out of the water. With one of them, she started cleaning his shoulders and chest, the soft scent of eucalyptus and bergamot filling the atmosphere, and the warmth and softness of the mist of the water was helping the prince to breathe more easily. However, to be like that, feeling so powerless and naked, made his pride bruised. He craved to be touched like that, yearning for it with his heart and soul, but his instincts dictated otherwise.
  âIâmâŚIâm not a child.â He added, not unkindly, not rude, just simply stating the fact, struggling with the feeling of desperately wanting her care and feeling ridiculous in needing it. âI can clean myselfâŚâ His hand was moving her own into the water again.Â
âI know you do, husband, but wouldnât it feel better to let me take care of you right now? My dear husband, I ask you, do only children deserve care? â
âI suppose notâŚIt does feel great in a way, but also⌠I don't know how to say it, but you understand what I mean, wife.â
âI can just stop if you wish me so. But intimacy comes way deeper than just sex. This is intimacy, too, isn't it? I am your wife, illness is part of life and a part where itâs expected to feel vulnerable and depletedâ His hands became softer on her, inviting her to continue her ministrations on his body. â BesidesâŚyou know I love spoiling you rotten,â she brings his wet hand to her lips, showering him in kisses and devotion.Â
  âYou have such kind wordsâŚand hands. I cannot resist your ways.â
  âI don't want you to resist,â the warm water soothing the prince's aching body and his breathing, he felt comfortable even in illness, he felt his heart full with the love he received from her.Â
Later, at night, Aemond was laying in the feather pillows covered in brown furs, his cheeks slightly pink but less clammy, his eye less feverish. His wife was sitting beside him with a tray of food for him.
âThank you, for taking care of me,â he said after finishing his dinner and disposing of the tray.
âNo need, Iâm sure youâd take care of me too with the same diligence.âÂ
âYou can be sure of that, but fortunately by Godâs will I wonât need to, I do not wish you ill.âÂ
To help him sleep, she read for him, his head leaning on her shoulder under the furs, and now with the fever broken and the breathing coming more easily, the prince quickly fell into sleep while she caressed his hair.Â
âThank you for indulging me.â Rhagerys clipped the strap to the stocking.
Aemond gave a soft smile. âI don't see it as an indulgent. I do this with love.â
@chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct here is the lingerie art piece I brought up a while go.
