Centuries Apart MASTERLIST || Aemond Targaryen x Got!reader
Summary: Y/N is from the game of thrones era, the younger sister of Daenerys, but after the fall of her house and the throne being taken away once again, she has no choice but to go back in time to where it all went wrong, trying to change the fate of House Targaryen. But will anyone from that era even believe her? What price will she have to pay?
Centuries Apart Part 2 || Aemond Targaryen x got!Reader
CHAPTER LIST (plz read or it might not make much sense)
A/N: hereâs part 2 lovelies xx hope you enjoy how the story unfolds
Lmk if u want part 3
Summary: How are Y/N and Aemond going to react to their betrothal and will Y/N learn how to adapt and survive in this era of ambition and cruelty and can she learn to tolerate her husband to be?
Warnings: angst, forced marriage, idk if this would be considered incest tbh lol
âPerhaps becoming your wife and bearing your heirs will keep her faithfulâ Otto grinned, caressing Y/Nâs silver locks.
These words, these damned words, they echoed through the throne room like a curse, all faces, once again staring in disbelief.
âFather, you donât mean thisâ Alicentâs eyes widened as she walked in front of her younger son as if trying to protect him from a dangerous beast âYou wonât sacrifice my son to this witchâ
âMotherâ Aemond whispered, gently placing his hand on Alicentâs shoulder âWith all due respect, grandfather, donât you believe there are more favorable options for a union that could actually bring forth valuable allies?â The prince scowled with disgust as he glanced at Y/N.
âThe decision is final and I believe, his grace, king Aegon would agree to its benefitsâ Otto raised his voice, turning his head towards the young king with a stern look on his face.
âAnd what makes you believe Iâd agree to this?â Y/N finally spoke up in disbelief, after the initial shock of the news had just washed away âIâm a Targaryen princess, the blood of the dragon, not a slave or a broodmare for sale. This was never part of my offer of alliance-â
âSilence womanâ Aegon stood up from the throne, making his way towards the girl âWe are being merciful enough to spare your life and put our trust in your guidance. You are to marry my brother and pledge your loyalty to the crown if you so value our houseâs future, as you claimâ he smirked, locking his gaze with Aemondâs displeased one âRight, dear brother?â
The one eyed prince scoffed at the kingâs words, the very same king who moments ago was desperately begging him for help to flee the Crownlands, now playing the part of a ruler. But Aemond knew better than to disobey the crown, he nodded and gave an almost unnoticeable bow to Aegon before storming out of the hall, the same way he had entered.
âIt is settled then, the wedding will take place in a fortnightâ Otto smirked deviously âLady Y/N we will be sure to provide you with a maid and a private chamber, that is until you are to share the one of your future husbandâ
The girl wanted to protest, she wanted to scream or run far away, she had seen what her sister had endured after being sold as a bride to Khal Drogo and now this same fate seemed to come upon her. This was not how things were supposed to go, none of this was according to her plan but she knew there was no way back she knew that this was her only chance to change the fate of House Targaryen.
-
Her chambers were modest in size yet still lavishly decorated with gold and expensive fabrics. Y/N was sitting on the small daybed, gazing through the window. Her whole life she had dreamed of living in this very castle, the home of her ancestors that was taken away from her family, but now this beautiful childhood dream had turned into a cruel curse.
âM-my ladyâ the timid voice of a young girl brought the princess back from her thoughts âI-Iâm Lysa, I was appointed to serve as your maidâ
She looked no older than five and ten, a scrawny thing with golden locks, tied into two simple braids.
âThat wonât be necessaryâ Y/N mumbled, returning her attention towards the view from the window âIâm perfectly capable of handling myselfâ
âPlease my lady, the hand will punish me if I defy his ordersâ Lysa fell to her knees, her eyes filled with desperation and dread âI promise to be loyal and serve you faithfullyâ
These words made Y/N stand up from her spot and approach the young girl, perhaps having someone loyal by her side, could prove beneficial in this realm of ambition and cruelty âOk then, but youâre to serve only me, youâll be my eyes and ears in this castle, I am to know everything that goes on and I will swear to protect youâ she whispered, a slight smirk playing on her lips. If they wanted her to play a part of their game by their rules, she was sure to do so.
âOf course my lady, I promise, thank youâ Lysa hastily nodded in relief.
-
A feast was to be held in honor of the new king, a deceitful attempt to bring forth alliances from the noble houses.
âYour dress for the feast, my ladyâ Lysa entered Y/Nâs chambers, holding a simple emerald green gown with gold stitchings âHer grace, queen Alicent chose it for youâ
âI want another dress, bring me the dressmakerâ the princess furrowed her brows âThose are not the colors of my houseâ
âBut, t-the queenâ
âYou serve me, Lysa. Donât you forget our dealâ Y/N whispered, a dark smile lingering on her lips.
-
An elegant black dress with striking red embroidery was the one she chose, her silver looks tied into intricate braids, mimicking the ones her sister Daenerys always used to wear. Many heads were turned as Y/N entered the great hall, all curious eyes, staring at the unknown Targaryen maiden.
She looked over at the table of the royal family, meeting the disapproving gaze of Alicent.
âAh, glad to have you join us, lady Y/Nâ Aegon sneered âWhy donât you sit by your future husbandâ
The girl mumbled something under her breath as she took her seat besides Aemond who was yet to acknowledge her presence.
âI see youâve worn a different dressâ the queen flashed a fake smile âWas the one I sent, perhaps not to your likings?â
âIt was a lovely garment, your grace, but I deem it more appropriate to represent the colors of my house as you do yoursâ Y/N grinned slyly, taking a sip of her wine.
âI think you look ravishing in it, my ladyâ Aegon smirked âDonât you agree dear brother? Or perhaps youâd rather see your lovely betrothed without it?â he laughed, nudging at the younger princeâs arm.
Y/N cringed at the indecorous remark, briefly glancing at Aemond who seemed uninterested in the whole ordeal, yet she could have sworn that just moments ago, he had been eyeing her.
âLetâs have a toast to the betrothal of my beloved brotherâ Aegon stood up lifting his golden goblet âMay you have a very progenitive marriageâ he glanced at Y/N with a sly grin.
âThank you, your grace, I would also like to toast to my future wife who is at last to become a true member of house Targaryenâ Aemond smirked deviously, finally allowing his gaze to openly travel to Y/Nâs face.
This crude insinuation ignited a fire of rage in the young princess as she abruptly got up, splashing her wine at Aemondâs smug face.
The entirety of the hall fell silent, Y/N could almost feel Alicent and Ottoâs angry stares burning holes on her back while Aegon was sniggering like a child.
The realization of what she had done in front of all those noble houses suddenly hit her and before the prince was able to curse her out, she was kneeling before him with a small rag in her hand.
âOh, forgive my clumsiness, my prince, here, allow me to help youâ the girl innocently batted her eyelashes at the one eyed prince who was staring back at her in disbelief.
Promptly, the feast endured, people long forgotten about the incident. While Y/N was wiping away the wine off Aemondâs face, she carefully examined his features. His expression was blank but she could sense the anger and humiliation through his presence.
Her eyes fell on the deep scar, appearing from under his eyepatch, she had heard tales of how the infamous Targaryen prince had lost his eye and she knew of the precious sapphire that had taken its place, making her wonder if sheâd ever see it.
As she gently slid the rag near the scar, unexpectedly, Aemondâs hand firmly grabbed hers.
âBe careful next time, my lady, this âclumsinessâ could cost you much one dayâ he smirked
âIâm not a mere lady, my prince, Iâm a princessâ Y/N hissed, abruptly pulling her hand from his grip.
-
The remainder of the feast was rather uneventful in comparison to the prior affairs. Y/N had decided to take a small stroll through the keep in hopes of clearing her mind, oh how she wished Dany could be there with her. The princessâs eyes welled up at the thought of her sister but something or rather someone lurking in the shadows brought her back to reality.
âUp so late, dear brideâ the dreadfully familiar voice of Aemond echoed through the corridor as he revealed himself âDonât you deem inappropriate for a betrothed lady to wander alone at this hour?â His taunting words sent shivers down her back.
âI donât believe I shall need your permission, my princeâ
âOh but you do, am I not to be your lord husband?â He sneered, twisting a silver lock of her hair between his pale fingers âYou got what you wanted, didnât you? At least now your babes will be true Targaryensâ
âGaomagon daor tymagon lÄda nyke, ñuha dÄrilaros. KesÄ jiĆragon zaltanâ (do not toy with me, my prince; you will get burned) Y/N spat, taking a step towards him.
For a mere second, a look of disbelief washed over Aemondâs face, but he was quick to pull back his composure.
âOh, sÄ«r Ä«lva riña gÄ«migon se ValyrÄ«ha Ängos?â (oh, so our lady knows the Valyrian tongue?) the prince inquired, the sly smirk returning on his lips.
âDĆrÄ« nÄrhÄdegon, ñuha dÄrilaros, eman se Änogar hen zaldrÄ«zes isse nyke. Valyrio muño Ängos ñuhys issaâ (never forget, my prince, I have the blood of the dragon. Valyrian is my mother tongue) she deviously grinned back at him before heading back towards her chambers. âTwas a game, she was prepared to play.
Summary: You've been avoiding your husband. Aemond will do whatever it takes to correct that.
Warnings: possessive/unhinged!Aemond, time-travel, infidelity, period-typical views of gender and marriage, angst, murder (non-explicit), readerâs plans go awry real fast
When you mull over it further in the safety of your own bed, you realize just how unsurprised you are by your husband's actions. Tales of Targaryen madness have always been prevalent throughout the kingdom, and the princeâs own uncle was said to have murdered his first wife long before wedding his niece.
That's probably where he'd drawn inspiration from, you decide with mounting fury. Aemond must've taken a page out of his uncle's book and discarded you in a moment of aggravation. You were of little use to his present causeâwhatever it was. Being the outsider that you are, you're not privy to his family's agenda.
Having come to with a violent start, heart racing painfully in your chest, you come to terms with what's happenedâwith what will happen, should you remain down the same path: your husband is going to murder you. He'll push you off the terrace overlooking Blackwater Bay after you confront him about his dalliances; the ocean below you'll plunge into while you scream your lungs out, knowing full well you know not how to swimâthat even if you did, you were no match for the strong currents of Blackwater Bay.
But you're alive now, you remind yourself. Not because, by some miracle of the Seven, you survived the waters, but...but because your demise has yet to happen.Â
You've somehow traveled back in time. The thought is as ludicrous as it is a relief, but you know not how else to explain it.
If you're alive now, it must mean you can still avoid the fate you've just met. But how?
You remember the confrontation you had with him, all the words that had tumbled from your mouth while he watched, his face impassive, one violet eye as wide as it was blank. The problem was that you never could gauge his mood, but what you're actually realizing now is that you just weren't worth the effort for him to emote to any extent. After all, you were never the prize; your enormous dowry was.
I have been nothing but an attentive and devoted wife to youâbut you, you choose to spit it all back in my faceâthey say your father, may his bones rest in peace, would neverâif you're this blind, then perhaps your nephew should've maimed your other eye for good measureâ
Well, thatâs it, isnât it? You'd gone off on your husband when once you wouldn't have dared to. In your defense, you were drunk from imbibing too much Dornish red, your bitterness and neglect at a fever pitch that night.Here you were, a hare forced to dwell amongst dragons; some at court called you an upstart, others called you a tart with middling blood. You were craving.
You know your husband craves, too. You're just not what he wants.
Well.Â
In the end, this is what you surmise: if you want to keep your head above the water, you just need to stay clear of your husband. Keeping on his good side means keeping out of his way. Where once you longed for his attention, you are now more than happy to do without it, so long as it means you can live.
After all, Prince Aemond can't murder his wife if he hardly remembers he has one.Â
In your head, at least, it makes sense.
**************
The basket of white linen shirts placed in your bedchamber startles you.
You've just returned from a game of shuttlecock with your handmaidens,basking in the cool morning weather before the near-stifling noonday heat takes over completely. You're feeling light and invigorated, but the sight of that basket chases away your happy mood. It's Aemond's, those linen shirts. You completely forgot about them, but here they are.
Playing ghost with your husband comes surprisingly easy to you, but you suppose the foundations for your success were always there from the start; there was the fact that the two of you have always kept to separate sleeping arrangements, and Aemond has only ever sought your company at a frequency deemed dutiful by royal standards: thereâs the few meals taken together each week with or without your in-laws, peppered with an occasional rendezvous in the evening thatâs held before the hearth in your bedchamber. Where you once took these opportunities to please and engage him, now you keep mostly to yourself, mincing empty words when silence was unavoidable. Your quiet complaisance seems to please him enough, you think, but you'll never know for sure.
Under no circumstances do you accept any appointments with him on the terrace overlooking Blackwater Bay; you even turn down a surprising request to walk with him through the royal gardens, because you know one of the paths lead to that same fateful spot you were once pushed off from.
In short, you have no interest in gaining your would-be murderer's favourâthough, of course, you're certainly not interested in gaining his disfavor, either. It's a thin line you walk on, and you're trying not to fall off before making it to the other side.
"You can take this back to the prince's chambers, Edyth," you order, gesturing toward the basket.
Your favourite handmaiden frowns at you. "But princess, you havenât mended them yet,â she reminds.Â
"Youâre right, and I donât intend to."
Edyth looks worried. "Prince Aemond will question this, won't he? You've always insisted on darning his shirts yourself. What am I to tell his page when asked?"
You doubt your husband remembers such trivial devotions coming from you. A truth that heavy may have once left you despondent, but now, with a spark of vindication, you realize just how well that works in your favour.
"You will tell his page that I've not the time to darn his shirts anymore," you respond. "Besides, Prince Aemond has important matters on his mind to heed who is darning his shirts, don't you think?"
The look on your handmaiden's face tells you she's not wholly convinced, but she obeys nonetheless.
**************
"Won't you dance with me, sweet sister?" the Princess Helaena asks, and you smile brightly at her. You've never excelled at anything in particular, but you do consider dancing one of your stronger points. The King need not bother the two of you tonight, thankfully; as you rise from your seat you spot your brother-in-law watching fair Lady Bridgetts with a less-than-lecherous gaze, surrounded by his like-minded coterie. The King these days doesn't care much for small family gatherings, as was once the norm, you were informed; he prefers the more boisterous and wine-soaked kind, attended by courtiers he knows will keep him entertained.Â
Despite her marriage to King Aegon, your sister-in-law has yet to be crowned queen, but she doesn't seem to mind in the least. Her steps are light and airy, cheeks red with excitement. You match her enthusiasm with your own, realizing that your feelings of joy are, in fact, genuine; Aemond is absent tonight, as he has been for the past few days, and so you've been able to breathe a little easier because of it. Your husband has been charged with mending frayed ties with the lords of The Reach, taking him away from the capital. A blessing, thatâyou wouldn't have attended tonight's amusements had he been in attendance.
And so you dance and dance with the Princess Helaena, the two of you spinning in delight as the music picks up its tempo; your surroundings blur while you move, eager to be rid of your present worries for a night or two. While you've taken it easy with the wineâyou learned your lesson when you drunkenly confronted Aemond on the terrace that fateful dayâyou've indulged on the candied fruits that accompanied tonight's supper, the sugar elating your good spirits even further.
But perhaps you've been too eager to forget, it seems, that the gods have sought to correct this.
As you ready yourself for another spin, someone catches your eyeâpale blonde hair and garments as black as night instantly betray his identity.
Aemond is watching you as you stumble lightly at his appearance, just as the music halts.
Your husband's gaze remains firmly upon you as a Kingsguard standing watch by the entrance announces Prince Aemond's arrival. You look away with haste, cursing beneath your breath. This wasn't what you anticipated; your husband isn't expected back for a few days still.
His mother voices as much after greeting her son warmly. "Nonetheless, the sweet air of the Reach has done you well," she comments, and you refrain from rolling your eyes. In your opinion, Aemond looks exactly the same, his pallor just as it was when he left King's Landing. You wonder, more with curiosity rather than bitterness, what fleshly delights he had sampled on there.
"For all of its riches, The Reach lacks what I truly desire," he says, casting a look at you over his mother's head. You're forced to hold back a scoff. You have no time for flattery.
"Then you will happily greet your wife with open arms, will you not?" the Queen Mother asks, turning to lead her son towards you.
With a smile painted on your face, you offer a quick curtsy in greeting. "Welcome back to the capital, husband." The last word tastes foreign in your mouth.Â
The Prince mustâve changed into a fresh set of clothes before appearing before them all, by the pristine look of his leather doublet and hose. He doesn't respond right away, his expression impassive.
"You look well, my love," he finally says.
You actually want to agree with him because it's true, but youâre sure that would be in bad taste when you've been apart from each other for such a while.
"Won't you dance with her, Aemond?" It's the Princess Helaena, speaking from across the room. "Those who dance and tumble, dance and tumble, will always discern," she portends, a faraway look blossoming on her still flushed-face.
You glance at your husband. "Perhaps some wine would be a better idea after such a long flight," you suggest instead.
"Only if you join me as well."
You can't just skip out this instant, you realize; that could raise Aemond's suspicions, and you don't want to deal with that. No, you'll make your exit when the moment's right, but now isn't it.
"If it pleases you, then I will."
His violet-eyed stare is unsettling, as it normally is. "It would please me very much."
You look back at Helaena with apology and affection. Here, at least, there is no bad blood to smooth over; your sister-in-law continues smiling at you in that otherworldly, enchanted way of hers. You also have absolutely no idea what sheâs talking about.Â
Things fall back into place again as the two of you both seat yourselves at the dining table; the music winds itself back up again, but itâs a new tune this time. You smile knowingly at a trio of courtiers youâve caught trying to scrutinize you discreetly by one of the stone columns. Tongues never stop wagging at court, and you suspect the grapevine will be plenty fruitful on the morrow, now that Prince Aemond has returned.Â
At the head of the table, your husband holds out a cup provided by his servant. "To your health," he says, watching you.Â
You raise your own cup before bringing it to your lips. You sip cautiously, as youâre wont to do now.Â
Tonightâs retinue of courtiers gravitate around you both, but none dare approach close enough for discourse. From your vantage point, adjacent to the Princeâs own seat, you can see the Queen Motherâs tapestries on display along the galleryâs wall. She was forced to relinquish some of her favourites to King Aegon, he who has a penchant for lifeâs finest things. Itâs mainly what you think about while nursing your wine, saying little to your husband.
"What have you been doing here in my absence?"
You shrug. "Things, here and there."
"Such as?"
For a moment, you consider telling him about your day traversing through River Row. Despite having never lived there for a day in your life, being surrounded by fishmongers and sea captains grips you with nostalgia you didnât realize you yearned so badly for. More than once youâve even had a selection of fish brought back to the Red Keep for your cook to try his hand at preparing. But why in the gods would you tell him all that? You want as little to do with your husband as possible; itâs as if the more you give, either with words or actions, the easier it will be for him to use against you, to lure you to the terrace you avoid like death itself.Â
"Trifling things, husband," you finally say, fingers dancing around the rim of your cup. "I doubt youâd be interested in the courtly pursuits that maidens and ladies participate in to wile away the time."
"Hm. And yet my shirts have come back to me unmended each time they are brought to your chambers. My page insists youâve been occupied."
Your fingers stop moving. "Oh. I didn't think you'd mind, to be honest. And besides, I realized I was too poor a seamstress in the end," you add for good measure.
"I ought to be the arbiter of that."
You know his gaze has barely left your face since heâs arrived, and itâs beginning to make you nervous. Instinctively, you open your mouth to apologize, but he cuts you off, his voice low and commanding in that calmly dangerous way of his.Â
"I will ask you again, wife: what have you been doing in my absence?"
As the minstrels segue into a new song, you shift your focus entirely on him. The Prince sits with his back erect, one hand on the table; his face is, as far as you can tell, an attestation to his boredom and the company present.Â
His gaze on you is another story, altogether. Beneath his stare, youâre reminded of the madness all Targaryens are supposedly capable ofâthat conquering dragons is madness itself. How else to explain wedding and bedding your own kin, or murdering them for sport?
Your husband has killed. He has killed his nephew, and once he has killed you. If you let him, he could do it again. You donât know what he wants to hear, or what he even wants from you, but you know youâre right to try and stay clear of him.
One of his long fingers taps sporadically against the base of his cup. Tap. Tap, tap. Tapâ
"I've taken to the arts," you confess warily.
He blinks once, and only once. "What kind?"
"Well, ink paintings have taken the court by storm as of late," you explain, shrugging. "There isnât one person I know who hasnât dabbled in it."
"And youâre taken by it as well?"
You nod. "Yes, quite. Our teacher is a good one, and Iâve done well under his tutelage. He hails from Qarth, actually, but from what I understand the art of ink painting comes frâ"
"Your teacher is a man," he states, cutting you off.Â
You huff quietly, slightly incensed from his interruption. "Of course he is. Women arenât allowed to apprentice."
Another tap of his finger against the base of his cup. "And how often do you congregate with this teacher of yours?"
Youâre really hoping that your husband doesnât plan on taking an interest in ink painting. Thatâs just what you need, isnât it, the Prince hovering about your space while you indulge in a past-time youâve genuinely enjoyed pursuing, and not just for social purposes. "Our circle meets once a week," you lie. So what if itâs actually more frequent than that? With a civil war on the horizon, youâre not even sure if any of this will last, and you want to enjoy it as husbandless as youâre able. Â
Boisterous laughter rings across the room. You realize itâs coming from the King and his coterie, but the source of their humour is unknown to you.
"You must show me your work, then," Aemond voices. "I very much wish to see your endeavours."
You smile nervously. "Yes, of course. Perhaps soon."
He smiles back at you, but there is dark mischief beneath it. "Perhaps now, my love. Let us rid ourselves of this company and find sweeter things to do in your chambers."
Your mind halts, fearful and mortified. This is absolutely not the direction you ever intended this conversation to go inâfar from it. You have yet to find a plausible excuse to keep the prince out of your bed when your duty remains unfulfilled, but the experience is few and far between. Your husband does not crave you; the suddenness of his request throws you completely off guard.Â
Say something, anything.
"The time is late and youâve journeyed far, husband. Wouldnât you prefer the comfort of your own familiar bed? Youâre back in the capital now, besides; weâve plenty of time for, um, things."
He says nothing to you, but you catch it on his face. That gleam of madness again.
For a moment you think heâs ready to let it go. And then, without breaking eye contact, he extends his arm and tilts his cup sideways, Dornish red spilling out over your lap like a bloody waterfall. You gasp loudly for all to hear, but you're too slow to avoid it; the wine has soaked through your skirts.
"How careless of me," he says without even a sliver of remorse, his face turned upwards to your own, one violent eye aglow with calm mischief.
You'd shot up from your seat as soon as the wine splashed onto your gown, your chair screeching against the stone floor. The music had halted again and the discourse terminated, all eyes turned towards you and the prince.
In the hushed silence that has descended, you glare at the prince, fingers bunching into the folds of your gown not soiled by the carnage he has wrought. You're flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment, face warm as you catch attendants approaching you from the corner of your eyes. How could he?
"I was very fond of this dress," you say, waving off the attendants. There was nothing they could do to salvage the garment.
"Then you must forgive this husband of yours," he says, standing. "We will need to have another dress made for my lady wife. A much finer one, so that it wholly befits her status and beauty."
"Yes, indeed," his mother cuts in as she nears, turning you towards her so she can examine the damage done by her son. "What a shame. It isn't like you to be so clumsy, Aemond."
Despite his misdemeanorâor, perhaps, because of itâthe corners of his mouth remain tilted upwards in a mischievous smile. "It would seem that reuniting with my lady wife has made me soft and befuddled," he confesses, standing. You take a step back, alarmed.
"Come, wife," he says. "Unfortunately in this state, you're no longer fit for company like this. We will bid everyone a good night."
You consider disobeying. I'm not fit for your company either, you think to say, but there is a shadow lingering in his good eye that you're wary of. Aemond will broker no argument or negotiation tonight. Besides, the stain on your dress is too unbecoming for this set, yes; you look down at it, noticing how it resembled a bloody island in the sea of the blue fabric.
In the end, it is the Queen Mother who decides for you. "You'll not want to linger in that dress for much longer, my love," she comments with an apologetic smile. "I'll see to it that Aemond makes good on his promise of a new dress. You are certainly deserving of it."
So you bow your head in deference towards her before bidding your King and his company a goodnight. Helaena kisses your cheek affectionately before whispering something in your ear. You don't think much about it just now, not until you're lying in your bed, coming to terms with everything that had transpired tonight.
What will transpire tonight, that is.
**************
You make it a point not to look at your husband as you make your way through the Red Keep, back to your own suite of rooms. The few restless courtiers still milling about eye the two of you cautiously.
In the now-empty corridor leading to your chambers do you finally voice your anger. "You did that on purpose," you accuse, turning on your heel to glare at him. Even his close proximity cannot thaw your feelings.
His smile remains placid. "Yes, I did." Not even a half-hearted attempt to deny it, you realize.
"Why do such a thing? What have I done to draw such ire from you tonight?"
The warm light that emanates from the torches around you sets your husband aglow while he studies you for a moment, silent. You freeze in fear beneath his gaze; itâs a look not so different from that which he'd given you before shoving you off the terraceâbut no, that hasn't happened yet, not in whatever realm you've found yourself in right now. That wonât happen, so long as you play your cards right, so longâ
You fail to act in time; he already has you pushed against the wall, his warm body crowding into yours. His hands curl possessively around your waist, face a hair's breadth away from your own. And while you desperately try to claw yourself from his presence, unable to discern between this Aemond and the one who killed you, between the sturdy ground beneath your feet and the ocean you were once plunged in, he only seems intent to trespass, to enforce his presence on you the only way a dragon is capable of.Â
"Something has come over you," he says at last with a gentle tilt of his head, his hands tightening over your waist. "Where once you seemed intent to occupy every moment of my time, you're now avoiding me as of late. Why is that, wife?"
Heart drumming loudly in your ears, you try your hardest to maintain a passive look on your face. "No, that's absurd," you insist with the lightest of scoffs. "What reason would I have to avoid you?"
"That, my love, is exactly what I plan to find out."
You shake your head vehemently, trying another tactic. "So what if I have been making myself scarce before you? Youâve been preoccupied with matters of state, donât you see? I only wish not to add to your burdens!"
He seems to be mulling over your answer while you try to keep yourself together, but his grip on your waist doesnât loosen at all. Â
"Perhaps youâre right," he affirms. "Iâve been a poor husband to you, havenât I?"
"No! Thatâs not what I mâ"
He doesnât let you finish. "This needs to be rectified immediately."
You blink at him, throat parched. "I donât understand."
A knowing smile blooms slowly along his mouth. "You will once the night is through."
**************
AN: Guys this was supposed to be like, 2k words, but here we are past the 4k mark and I have no excuses other than this plot escaped me. If youâve made it this far, thanks for reading! Itâs been a while since Iâve written GOT fic, so I might be a little rusty. Let me know if youâre interested in reading more; I guess I could try my hand at smut or smth and I always planned to make our boy nuttier as the ideas flowed outta my head.Â
Also, despite the sappy-sounding title, itâs ripped from Seulgiâs 28 Reasons which I had on full repeat because of its creepy, dark-pop vibe. Bye.
You have no idea how excited I got when I saw you posted about Aemond Targaryen requests â€ïž can I request a. story with him and reader Where he gets jealous. Like a Lord from a different house keeps trying to get her hand in marriage. Also the reader grew up in castle and has been his best friend since babies.
You Belong To Me || Aemond Targaryen x Reader
A/N: so I slightly diverted from the request, but the overall premise is pretty much the same :) hope you enjoy
Summary: Aemond and the reader have been best friends since childhood, however Y/Nâs desire to find a husband awakens extreme jealousy in the prince, making him realize his feelings for her. But what if itâs too late?
Warnings: Angst, Jealousy, Fluff end
Growing up, Aemond never really had any friends. It made perfect sense to him, he was a prince above all and after years of putting up with his brotherâs and nephewsâ cruel pranks, he had long ago stopped trusting most people. However lady Y/N was a rare exception, the daughter of a northern lord who had sent her as a lady in waiting to princess Helaena, in hopes of her finding a noble husband, when the day comes.
During those years by the chance of fate Y/N had grown very close to the younger prince. Sheâd be the first to console him after the numerous times his brother would try to humiliate him and when he lost his eye, Y/N would sneak into his chambers every night to tell him stories until heâd fall asleep, much to the disapproval of her septa. Even Queen Alicent, soon after the incident, grew fond of the northern girl, who was always by Aemond's side. Like any mother would, she found comfort in the thoughts that her beloved son had someone to care for him.
Years had passed, despite the loss of his eye, the younger prince had grown into a dangerous swordsman and Y/N had flowered into a beautiful young maiden, still full of hope and dreams. And though the two couldn't spend as much time together, they still deeply cared for each other.
It was a bright sunny day in Kingâs Landing and Y/N was accompanying princess Helaena on her daily walk through the lavish gardens. The girls were so caught up in their sweet talks that they almost didnât notice the two silver haired princes approaching them.
âAh there you are, dear sister. Excited for the upcoming feast in honor of your wedding with Aegon, I assumeâ Aemond smirked at Helaena, making his brother scoff at the reminder.
âGods, the weddingâ Y/N beamed âI wonder when will my turn come, what if I meet someone at the feastâ
Suddenly Aemondâs whole demeanor dropped, those words struck him like an arrow. Of course like any young lady, Y/N would dream of meeting her future husband, he knew that day would eventually come, but for so many years he had subconsciously chosen to ignore these thoughts.
It was the day of Helaena and Aegonâs wedding. Earlier that day, Y/N had helped the princess ready herself. While she was gently placing the ornate garments on Helaena frame, Y/N couldnât help but let her imagination wander to the day of her own wedding. Ever since a child, she had dreamed of that moment, but as the years went by, her hopes of it coming to fruition were slowly fading away. Not long ago she had come of age and yet not a single marriage proposal or even an attempt at courting had come upon her. Aemond was like her shadow, the only man she had spoken to and his presence seemed to prove effective in scaring any possible suitors away.
This night, however, Y/N was determined to find herself a betrothed, she had to, or her impatient father would soon marry her off to some old cruel northern lord in hopes for an alliance. She carefully picked up the dress Queen Alicent had sent her, it was a deep emerald green color with delicate gold embroidery across the bodice. Y/N smiled to herself, having grown up without her mother, made her really grateful for having Alicent by her side.
The royal wedding was a grandiose affair, tables lavishly decorated with exotic flowers and the finest gold cutlery. Nobles from the far east and highborns from all across the seven kingdoms had come to pay their respects. It was clear that the queen wanted this event to be remembered.
Y/N sat in awe of the scenery before her, indulging in the stories of the foreign ladies sitting beside her, thatâs when she noticed Aemond, standing by one of the decorated pillars and she could swear he was stealing glances at her. Oh how she wanted to go and talk with him, her closest friend, but Y/N knew that if she did, all her chances of finally finding a suitor would be damned.
âCare for a dance, my ladyâ Y/N was suddenly shaken from her thoughts. A man with golden curls and piercing green eyes was extending his hand to her. âA Lannister, perhapsâ she thought to herself. The maiden happily accepted his offer, it looked like luck was at last upon her.
She spent the whole night dancing and talking to the Lannister lord, she quite enjoyed his company, though she had to admit none of it could compare to the company of her prince. What she didnât know, however, was that throughout her whole time with the lord, Aemond was staring daggers at them. The one eyed prince couldnât explain it, but a burning rage was building up inside him. The sight of another man touching Y/N, his Y/N was so antagonizing, he hadnât noticed how strongly he was gripping the handle of his sword, oh how he wanted to slice it through the golden bastard. He was trying to keep his composure, but once he saw the couple heading outside to the gardens, he could no longer contain himself, he got up and followed them, anger mixed with jealousy clouding his vision.
The night sky was clear, thousands of stars glistening like diamonds. Y/N was beaming, walking by the lion, smiling and talking about her dreams of the future. This fairytale moment, however, was shortly cut by no other than the dragon prince himself, her Aemond.
âY/N, come, letâs goâ he scowled, looking her directly in the eyes. But before the puzzled girl was able to respond, the Lannister man stepped forward âAnd why should she listen to you? As far as Iâve heard, sheâs not your betrothed, she does not belong to youâ he laughed.
These words awoke a whole new level of rage in the young prince, furious, he took out his sword and pointed it at the manâs chest, making Y/N let out a frightened squeal âAemond, donâtâ she pleaded.
âYou know who I am, donât you, you pestâ the prince hissed at the lion, without putting down his weapon. âDare you say another word, none of your Lannister gold will be able to save your life from my dragonâ this threat undoubtedly scared the man as he turned around and headed back to the feast, without a word.
âWhy? Why did you do thisâ Y/N whispered on the verge of tears. âI thought you were my friend, I thought you wanted me to be happyâ
âCome, letâs go insideâ Aemond sighed, taking her hand in his.
âNOâ the girl protested âAll these years Iâve been by your side, Iâve done everything for you to be happy and this is what you do to me? All I wanted was just to be happy!â
âHe doesn't deserve you, he is NOT the one for youâ the prince snapped.
âOh, and who is then? Some old ugly lord, that my father is going to marry me off to and-â her words were suddenly cut off by a soft pair of lips on top of hers. Y/N was caught completely off guard, memories of their childhood flooding back, but it didnât take her long to return the kiss, instantly clasping her hands around his neck. That kiss was full of longing, it was a release for all these feelings theyâve had developed for each other throughout the many years. It now all made perfect sense to Y/N, all these years she had spent imagining her future spouse, too scared to think of the one she truly desired, her dragon, her Aemond.
Once out of breath, they pulled away, resting their foreheads together.
âMe, you belong to meâ Aemond whispered, gently caressing her cheek.
Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown⊠then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.Â
AKA Viserys just wanting his family to stop fighting and be happy and getting that as his last wish, if only for a little while.Â
Aemond Targaryen x Lady Reader(not specified from which house)
Summary- over the years he's had dreams of having a life with a girl and now she's right in front of him
Warnings- wet dreams
Request by anonymousÂ
-
The first dream started when he was 10. She was beautiful, like a goddess. In his dreams he was chasing after her in a field of flowers under the sun, or he'd be star gazing with her. She had such kind eyes and a beautiful smile.Â
When he lost his eyes in his dreams he'd have one eye closed. And it always seemed like he was hiding from her. Until he would feel her hand on his shoulder and her lips into his ear.Â
"You're beautiful."Â
He had to shoot up up awake to make sure there was nobody in the room, but deep down he wished she was.
When he started aging, so did she. As he got older and his body changed so did the dreams. He'd imagines her bare in the water or sometimes she'd just have a sheer night gown on that she would drop in front of him. The dreams started getting more, dirty, he should say.
He'd imagine her face blissed out under him or on-top of him. How pretty she'd look with his cum spilled on her belly or leaking from her cunt.Â
But eventually the constant dreams slowly stopped. Aemond was to busy training, but that didn't stop him from thinking about her. He turned down marriage proposals because he just wanted to see her once, be with her once. So he trained, so he'd be ready to travel and find the girl in his dreams.
-
Aemond was yet again in another duel against Ser Criston. He dodged and swung, got hit a few tikes but never enough to make him fall. A crowd starts to form making Aemond try even harder to show off. The crowd was dived, half for Criston half for Aemond.Â
âGo on Aemond!â
âShow him how its done Criston!âÂ
They ended up with their swords at each others throats.Â
âGive up my Prince?â Asked Criston and Aemond scoffed.
âNever.â Just as he was about to strike but his eye wondered around the crowd until a white dress caught his eyes from above. His eye trailed up and landed on her chest, a deep neckline exposed the sides of her breast. He went up higher and he almost dropped his sword.Â
Itâs her.
Criston looked to see what the prince was looking at but he was knocked on his ass. Aemond didnât take his eyes off her, he sheathes his sword and approaches the stairs that lead to where stands.Â
âI have not seen you around here.â He says as he goes up the last step. She turned around and leaned against the railing.
âWould you have liked to?â She asks and smirks, making Aemond smile.Â
âA beautiful Lady like you, of course I wouldâve.â He walks to the railing and leans against it. âWhere are you from?â Aemond was entranced by her, she was truly a goddess, even more beautiful up close, more beautiful in real life.Â
âWhy should I tell you Prince Aemond.â She says and looks at him with a sly look.
âYou know my name?â He asks and his heart starts racing. âWell its only fair if I know yours.âÂ
âLady Y/n.âÂ
âOf where.âÂ
âYouâll have to figure it out my prince.â She turned her body to face him. His heart swelled when she says âmy princeâ, and he also could help looking down at the cleavage.
âHmm, walk with me.â He says and holds out his arm to her and she slides her arm in his and looks up at him.
Summary: the reader is frightened of thunder. Aemond finds it a bit silly.
A/n: based of this ask!
Masterlist
.............................................
Y/n fell back from the bay window and the sudden thunder that shook the castle.Â
Her book was long abandoned.Â
She had read over the same paragraph at least six times before giving up.Â
The rain made her nervous, knowing what it brings.Â
She picked herself off the ground and brushed off her gown.Â
She wondered where Aemond was at the moment.Â
He had left hours ago to take Vhagar out for a stretch, and she realized she had not yet seen him since.Â
Her eyes widened in horror and she looked out at the pouring rain.Â
Surely he wasn't stillâŠ
When another strike of lightning lit the sky, she saw the dragon landing not far from the Keep.Â
Determined, she tied her shoes on and ran to the front doors.Â
They opened with a wide swing and she only stared at the rain. The dark swallowed everything.Â
She took a deep breath and began to run.Â
She ran as quickly as her legs would take her to Vhagar.Â
"Aemond!⊠Aemond!" She screamed over the rain.Â
The prince turned around curiously, now seeing his wife run to him, soaked and shivering.Â
He quickly pulled her to him, "What are you doing?" He asked in frustration.Â
What was she doing?
Another clap of thunder boomed over them and she jumped.Â
He chuckled as the water dripped from his hair, "Are you frightened?" He asked loudly.
She wiped her cheeks and nodded.Â
He hummed and pulled her flush against him, tucking her face into his neck. "You stupid girl," he chuckled. "Practically worshipped by the largest dragon in the world, and yet scared of a little thunder?"
Her eyes wandered to Vhagar, who watched the two closely.Â
Aemond's brow furrowed, "Did you come out here because you are scared for yourself? Or because you were scared for me?"
She looked back to him, "I⊠I dunno."
He brushed a wet strand of hair from her forehead, "Let's get you inside before you catch a chill."
A lightening strike.Â
Aemond pulled her to him, bracing her for the thunder that was soon to follow.
It boomed loudly, and though she jumped, it was hardly as bad.Â
He sighed and kissed her forehead, "I believe a bath is in order."
"A bath?"
He smiled at her as they walked towards the doors, "Warm your bones. Perhaps I'll warm the rest of you."
But it all crashed violently when he returned from a dragon ride to see her gone.Â
His wife. Gone.Â
He growled at the guards to search the castle.Â
She had to still be here.Â
âŠ
Y/n sat on the back of a horse with a hood over her head. She had her mother's silver hair, and the Strong curls that could be easily spotted from miles away, "He will have your head for this!" She said worriedly.Â
"That is if he catches us before I get you back home," Jace said with a grin.Â
"Jace, this is supposed to be my home," she reasoned.Â
"But it's not. Your home is with us. With mother."
She leaned against his back, "She's going to be angry that you risked so much to get me."
"We will deal with it as it comes," he shrugged.
"And if Vhagar appears on Dragonstone's doorstep for me?"
When he doesn't answer, she continues, "Despite what you think, brother, I do love Aemond."
Jace stared straight ahead with a set jaw, "After all he's done?"
"Mother loves Daemon, does she not? He is hardly redeemable."
"Aemond killed Luke!"
"And Daemon had a child killed for it, Jace!"Â
Silence swallowed the two as the horse rode on.
"But does he love you back?" Jace finally asked softly.
"I suppose we shall see, won't we?"
âŠ
Aemond stormed into the throne room, "Brother!"
Aegon looked up from his friends with upshot eyebrows, "Aemond! Come join us for a drink!"
"Where is Cole?" Aemond asked coldly.
"I⊠I dunno, brother." Aegon shrugged. "Something the matter?"
He let out an angered chuckle, "'Something the matter?!' You sit here and drink while my wife is taken from her chambers."
Aegon's brow furrowed, "Taken? She's gone?"
Aemond couldn't sit by with idle chatter while she stayed missing. He turned on his heel and walked from the room.Â
âŠ
Jace had gotten them safely to Vermax, who had stayed miles away to avoid suspicion. Once the two mounted the dragon, the rest of the travel was easy.Â
And they soon arrived at Dragonstone.Â
Rheanyra's jaw almost dropped completely at the sight of her only daughter walking through the door.Â
The entire council completely paused.Â
"Mother," Jace smiled. "I have brought her back home."
Y/n braced for a scream. Yells from her mother. A stern talk. Something.Â
She didn't expect a relieved hug.Â
"Oh, my dear," Rheanyra almost sobbed into her hair. "I've been so worried."
Almost as quickly as the cooing had began, it had stopped. The queen slapped Jace on the shoulder, "What were you thinking?!"
"I've brought my sister- your daughter- home⊠and you're upset?" He asked confused.Â
Her eyes narrowed, "Do you not think that Aemond will not wish to slay us all for this? It is an act of war!"
"Not if she came willingly," Jace shrugged.Â
Daemon let out a breathy laugh, "That's not how Targaryens see things."
The entire council turned to Y/n, who could only stare.Â
âŠ
Word had quickly spread of the Princess's disappearance, and the truth had shown itself just as easily.Â
A guard announced that he had seen a dragon fly off only a few miles from the castle.
Vermax.Â
Aemond threw his chalice at the wall, not caring for the wine that spilled from it.
The entirety of Aegon's council jumped at the sudden display of the otherwise collected man.Â
"We shall send a raven," Alicent reasoned. "They will return her."
"Or what?" Aegon asked. "What punishment do we possibly have to threaten?"
"I will retrieve her myself," Aemond growled. "I will not have her bartered for as if she is a prized goat."Â
"And what if that's what they are expecting?" Alicent said. "They either attack you there and kill our greatest dragon, or they are planning to ambush us here while you are away."
"I will not merely sit around. My wife was taken from her bed!" He roared.
"And we will get her back," Alicent rebutted. "Just give us time to gain a strategy."
"Strategy?" Aemond asked with a calming grin. "I care not for it this time. Let them take all of King's Landing for all I care-"
"Please, my prince." Cole finally chipped in. "We must act carefully."
"Do not speak to me as if you did not abandon your post the day she was taken!" Aemond stood. He began to walk around the table with a calm facade, "Tell me why you would dare abandon your post, Sir Cole." He leaned down behind him, "What were you doing rather than guarding the people you are sworn to?"
"Aemond, enough," Alicent warned.
"I'm just getting started," Aemond sneered.Â
Aegon sighed and leaned back in his chair, chugging the wine in his cup.
âŠ
"Mother, you know they did not talk to strategy with me. And even if they did," Y/n shrugged. "I do not wish to be in any of this war."
"You are in the middle of it now," Rheanyra said.
She looked to Jace and cocked her head, "That is not from any fault of mine."
Jace held his hands up, "You are my sister and you belong here."
"Do not force her to pick a side, Jace." Their mother reprimanded. "She is a Targaryen by blood and a Targaryen by marriage. Do not make her choose one now."
"And if Aemond comes looking for her?" Jace asked.Â
Rheanyra looked between her children, "Then you will go back peacefully."
Jace's eyes widened, "You will not just let her be taken?!"
"It is not taken if she goes willingly!" Rheanyra sneered at him. "Is that not what you said only days ago?"
âŠ
Aemond laid for the tenth night on the bed that she had once slept next to him in.Â
He stared at the ceiling.
It felt cold.Â
He let out a sigh before grunting and getting up in an angered huff.Â
The sun would be up in only a few hours.Â
Perhaps they wouldn't notice him until he's gone.Â
âŠ
Y/n couldn't sleep that night.Â
She had woken up hours before the sun, getting dressed, eating an early breakfast and spent her time reading by candlelight in her bay window.Â
The sun had began to rise and she welcomed the feeling of its rays on her through the window.
But it flickered for just a moment before she heard cries from the guards.Â
"DRAGON!"
Her head shot up to look out of the window.Â
Vhagar.Â
She quickly got up, tying her shoes as quickly as she could and ran down the corridor, despite the yells from the guards at her door.Â
They had all been caught off guard by the hour of Vhagar's appearance, and no one had proper defense against her.Â
But strangely enough, Aemond had landed her not far from the doors to Dragonstone. He stood on top of her saddle patiently for Rheanyra to appear.
But when it was his wife running to him, he felt his heart jolt.Â
He slid down Vhagar as quickly as possible and held out his arms for her.Â
He grunted from the impact of her body against his, but it was far from unwelcome.Â
One of his hands found purchase around her waist tightly and the other cradled the back of her head as she tucked her face against his neck.Â
Only then did Rheanyra appear.Â
She stood on top of one of the walls, overlooking the two.Â
Aemond's hands did not move, but his head rose proudly, as if challenging her to defy him now. His voice was soft so only his wife could hear, "Mount Vhagar."
She pulled away and wiped her cheeks, "W.. What?"
"Mount Vhagar now," he commanded as he continued his glare.
Y/n quickly moved to the beast. Since Aemond had introduced her to Vhagar, the dragon had found a love for her. Aemond worried that sometimes his own dragon cared for his wife more than him.Â
 But at this moment, he hoped that she truly did.Â
Next to Rheanyra now stood Daemon with a bow and arrow in hand, the arrow notched and the string pulled back. It was aimed directly at him.Â
Aemond felt a chuckle bubble from his throat. A single arrow against a dragon?
"Take her back, Aemond!" Rheanyra commanded loudly from the wall.
Aemond tilted his head with a light hum in thought. It was too easy.Â
That's when Daemon moved his bow and aimed directly at Y/n atop Vhagar.Â
"What are you doing?" Rheanyra muttered to Daemon.Â
"Whatever I have to." He muttered back.Â
Aemond felt a fire light behind his eyes. He studied mathematics quite a bit. If he were to call Vhagar to light the castle, would Daemon have time to release the arrow?
He feared that he did.Â
But the girl's own mother wouldn't allow this to happen, would she?Â
Aemond was beginning to think that she would.Â
"Aemond, please." Y/n called from the saddle.Â
"I do not retreat so easily, my love."
"It is not a retreat if you have what you've set out for!" She called back.Â
He hummed as he thought over it before nodded and moving back to the dragon.Â
He began to climb Vhagar.Â
"You're lucky that worked," Rheanrya sighed.Â
"I'm not done yet," Daemon smiled.Â
"What do you mean?"
The man smiled, "You'll see."
Aemond now mounted Vhagar, set behind his wife as he had done so many times before. He tightened her ties to the dragon before tying his own around his legs.
He leaned forward to her ear, but never took his eyes off of the two atop the wall, "Are you alright?"
She nodded, "I'm fine."
He relaxed just barely at that. "Alright. Hold on now." He grabbed the ropes in a firm grip before shouting, "SĆvÄs! (Fly!)"
Vhagar began to move, unfolding her wings and pushing from the ground.Â
Y/n let out a surprised laugh, as she does every time, but Aemond is far from gleeful.Â
Daemon had yet to drop his bow.Â
Perhaps this war would be over if he just commended dragon fire on all of them now.Â
But Vhagar made quick work of getting in the air, and only then did the Prince begin to relax.Â
He made the dragon circle Dragonstone once with a smirk.
But Daemon's smirk grew.Â
Rheanyra noticed. "What are you doing? Daemon don't-"
The arrow shot from the bow.Â
Aemond noticed it at the last second, pulling at the ropes in an attempt to block it with the tough hide of the dragon.
When he didn't see it whiz past their heads, he let out a sigh.Â
Y/n let out a gut wrenching scream.Â
Aemond leaned forward immediately, looking over her shoulder to see the arrow that had lodged itself into her stomach.Â
He let out a scream of his own, feeling his entire body flood with grief.Â
He looked down as they passed Daemon, who held the proudest smirk he'd ever seen a human wear.Â
But Rheanyra's hand was held over her mouth in horror.Â
Aemond's eye flickered with a lit fire as he began to pull the ropes for Vhagar to circle again to kill them all.Â
Y/n's hand moved up. It shook violently as she tried to will herself to touch the arrow in her.Â
Aemond grunted at her, "Don't touch it."
She let out a whine in pain and frustration as her body leaned back against his.
He doesn't have time to release dragon fire on them all now.Â
"Naejot! (Forward!)" He yelled at the dragon, who pushed forward past Dragonstone.
Every second had become precious.Â
Aemond shouted at Vhagar every few moments in urgency, and only then was he so relieved that he had one of the largest dragons in the world for her quick travels.Â
The woman's cheeks paled and her forehead had developed a thick layer of sweat.
Aemond was beyond panic.Â
They landed a few hours later at King's Landing and he began shouting commands at guards as he untied her from the dragon.
âŠ
Aemond made no move to leave her side.Â
Still covered in sweat and grime and his riding gear, he stood in their chambers silently and watched as the maesters worked to ease her wounds.
Alicent stood not far behind from him, "Will she make it-"
"-GET OUT!" Aemond's voice cracked from the volume. He had practically lost it long before from commanding Vhagar so harshly.Â
Alicent flinched, "A⊠Aemond, I-"
He turned around to her, "I said get out."
The queen regent moved to say more, but knew better, and nodded, leaving the room.
âŠ
Two hours later, the maester finally spoke to the Prince, "We believe she will make it. There is no fever in the wound. If she survives the night, she will make a full recovery."
Aemond hums, "and what may I do to ensure that she does?"
The maester thought for a moment, "Maintain her temperature. Do not anger the wound. And when she wakes, do not let her move or get carried away in extreme emotions."
The prince hummed again, "Thank you."
The maester nodded, "Of course, my prince."
They all soon took their leave, leaving only the prince and the unconscious princess.
âŠ
The night was torturous for the prince.Â
He would never will himself to sleep. He worried that each breath could be her last.Â
Deep into the night, she finally stirred. "Ae⊠Aemond?" She asked groggily.
He managed a smile and sat next to her on the bed, "Hello, my love."
She looked around before pushing herself up.
His hand quickly moved to her shoulder and pushed her down, "Woah, woah, woah. You must remain down."
She let herself fall back down on the bed, "It hurts."
"I know it does," he cooed. His fingers brushed the hair from her forehead.Â
"I'm sorry I left."
"I'm sorry you were able to."
The two stared at one another for a while before Aemond stood. He opened the door and spoke to the guard, "Have a raven sent to Rheanyra. Tell her the princess will live."
He quickly returned to her side, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. "I've never been scared before, my love."
"Me too" she hummed. "What if that arrow had hit you?"
He leaned back with a confused look. Of all things, she was worried for him?Â
"You disappear from our chambers with no trace and then when I do find you, you have an arrow shot in you, and yet you believe I am worried that I may have been the one injured?"
She hummed again, "You should apologize to Vhagar. You shouted at her so harshly."
Aemond couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping him, "You worry for my dragon as well?"
"I cannot help it." She mused.
"If I apologize to Vhagar, will you promise me not to leave again?"
She considers his words, then nods.
He smiles and pulled her hand up, kissing the back of it, "Thank you."
Perhaps the two wouldn't choose sides to the war at all. It only ends in destruction and dragon fire for all who dare.Â
And as long as the two had one another, they didn't believe that to be too bad.
Summary: Aemond has trouble being firm with your daughter.
A/N: This is just a little drabble I wrote. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!
Aemond had always been a light sleeper, even more so after the birth of your daughter. He had always been the first to wake up and rush to her side anytime she made the slightest noise. So when he heard her shuffling out of bed in the middle of the night, he woke up immediately. He didnât get up, instead choosing to wait and see what she was up to.
The two of you had been trying to get Daenys into the habit of sleeping in her own bed. To say it was a struggle would be an understatement. The two of you had let her sleep between you a few times, and apparently, she took that to mean she had to sleep in your bed every night.
Aemond didnât honestly mind it. He loved every minute of it. He knows that once she gets older, he wonât get those moments when he can hold her close and have her sleep in his arms anymore. So he wants to hold on to her as long as he can.Â
Aemond kept perfectly still as he felt the blanket at the bottom of the bed being tugged down. He used one of his hands to hold onto it so that it would not completely slip off the bed, as Daenys used it as a ladder to climb onto the bed. He pretends to be asleep, though he cracks his eye open just enough to watch his little girl, in case she slips.
She let out a little grunt as she successfully reached the top. Aemond doesnât move as she climbs over him, most likely trying to take her usual place between the two of you.
He does his best not to cry out when her knee accidentally digs into the flesh of his thigh. He doesnât want to frighten his little girl or, even worse, wake you up. So, he does his best to bear the pain.
He waits until she reaches the top of the bed before rolling over to face her. She freezes, her eyes wide open, knowing sheâs been caught. Though her shock quickly turns to amusement. Daenys gives him a cheeky smile.
âWhy are you out of bed?â He whispers. âGo back to sleep,â he scolds her playfully.
âNuh-uh,â she shakes her head, making her little silver curls shake side to side.
 Daenys sits back on her heelsâa mischievous glint in her eyes.
Aemond lifts his hands, trying to brace himself. He makes it just in time before she throws herself on top of him. Her little arms wrap around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly as she buries her face into his neck. Messy, silver curls tickle his nose. Aemond shakes his head, trying to push her hair away.
âFine, you can stay,â he sighs, âbut your mother wonât be pleased with us in the morning.â
He grabbed the blanket, pulling it over the both of them.
She yawned, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. âNight, night, kepa.âÂ
âGoodnight, my little dragon.â He hummed, gently running his hand over her back.
Aemond stared up at the canopy, and once again, he found himself wondering how he had gotten here. What had he done to deserve such happiness? The man had always known he would marry and eventually have children someday. He was a Targaryen prince, after all. Yet he had never imagined it would make him feel so... content.Â
âYou spoil her too much,â you mumble drowsily.
Aemond turned his head, finding you with your head still buried in your pillow.
âSheâs a princess. It's practically in the job description.â He smirked. âBesides, you don't seem to mind when I spoil you.â
âFine,â you sigh. âBut sheâs sleeping in her own bed tomorrow.â
Aemond reached over and grabbed your hand. He lifted it, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
This is my first time writing in the House of the Dragon universe, so please be kind! Don't expect perfect historical accuracy - but I just love this character so much.
featuring | Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen x Reader
length | 1k words (a shorty!)
synopsis | You're worried about your shape, and your husband's lack of worry about his.
warnings | 18+ MDNI! Fluff + implied smut
One thing that drove you mad about your husband was just how often he could eat. That is, eat and maintain his lithe figure. Sure, he was in the training yard every day, keeping his shape inadvertently, as it was clear he never once had to think about the harsh pull of a corset, but you were certain he could eat more in one day than some homes ate in a week.
It wasnât uncommon to see the Prince walking the halls of the Red Keep with an apple in his hand, or reaching for a sweet in his pocket.
Aside from snacks, he would quietly and cleanly go through two, three, sometimes four plates of food at supper - the cook prepping and preparing extra venison just for the second son.
When the two of you would take dinner in your bedchambers, there was often a small, second table brought in to hold plates as they normally would not fit on your given space.
Only once and a while, as you ran into your husband throughout the grounds, would you catch just a crumb or two on his black doublet - a sure sign heâd been ordering shortbread to his meeting room during the day.
Besides the fact that you hadnât seen his measurements change in the 16 months youâd been betrothed and married, there were no obvious signs of his intake.
Today, as your ladies in waiting braced a foot up on the bedpost to pull your laces tighter and tighter, the sight of Aemondâs keen eye scanning a selection of cheeses from your tea table nearly sent you into a frenzy.
âThank you,â you grimaced before dismissing your ladies maids for the morning - now that youâd been picked, prodded and parsed away into a cascade of deep emerald velvet.
âThought Iâd join you for tea, my love,â Aemond said quietly, just barely breaking eye contact with the spread of fruit, cured meat and treats alongside the soft cheeses on the hutch near your common area.
âOh really? Because you missed my company?â You supplied, striding across the room, sure you could feel your ribs straining beneath the whelped whale bone stitched into your garments.
âI always enjoy your company, sweet wife,â Aemond assured, raising his look to meet yours, but hand still hovering over a particularly ripe looking apricot.
âAre you sure you arenât just here for the tea? I can excuse myself so you can be alone with your meal,â you tossed him a look that he nearly missed because he was sure he saw his favorite jam preserves tucked into the display that he hadnât seen available for a few weeks.
âMm?â He asked, turning his head to look up at you one more time.
âYou make me mad, do you know that?â You asked, coming to stand in front of him with a small furrow between your brows.
âMad?â Aemond asked, tossing a small berry into his mouth.
âYou are here for the food!â You all but snarled, causing his brow to lift just slightly in surprise.Â
âIs something the matter?â He asked, turning his shoulders squarely to face you.
âYou get to eat and eat and eat all day long,â you huffed, turning and crossing the room once again to pour a glass of incensed water into your empty cup. âHow can you eat so much and yet your body never changes? Not even a bit?â You asked.Â
Aemond was at a loss for words. He was certain he didnât eat that much.
âIf I have one more sweet than veg at dinner, I can feel on my thighs for the next six weeks!â You knew you were bordering on hysteria at this point. âI watched you eat six tarts last night.â You pointed an accusatory finger at your husband. âSix!â
âThey were very good tarts, plums are finally back in season,â Aemond countered, not sure why his little wife was throwing a fit over his tea.
You crossed the rooms again, cradling his sharp jaw in your hands, arms accounting for the height difference between you two.
âI am deeply in love with you, and I deeply resent how you can maintain your figure and eat until your heartâs content,â you said sternly. Aemond noted the slight sweetness of honeysuckle on your breath. âI am⊠envious,â you admitted softly.
âI assure you,â Aemond began, âyour body leaves me wanting for nothing,â he informed. âIâm quite attached to all parts of it and hope none of them disappear,â he said, unruffled by your outburst.
âWell they will,â you huffed, dropping your arms and placing your hands on your waist. âI need to shed these hips and thighs, so Iâm telling cook no more sweets at dinner or tea,â you said pointedly, turning away from your husband and crossing the room again to grab your cloak.
âNo sweets?â Aemondâs face reflected an expression of disgust. âThat simply wonât work for me,â he replied.Â
âNo sweets,â you reiterated. Aemond set down the halved peach heâd absentmindedly picked up as you were speaking and strode across the room, placing his hands on your waist over your clock.
âMy love, I need my sweets the same way I need you,â he murmured in your ear, causing you to puff out a sarcastic laugh.
âOh really? You canât live without them?â You asked, spinning in his hold.
Aemond took a deep breath, drawing his arms tightening around you as he spoke with clear authority.
âYour hips and thighs happen to be my favorite bits,â he began, âand if you take them from me the same way you plan to take my sweets, I will take it as a personal affront.â
âAemond, the other ladies of court - â
âFrankly, I donât care about the other ladies of court and neither should you,â he interrupted. âYou are a Princess and if anything, they should strive to be more like their rulers.â He held a finger to your lips. âNow that Iâve finished my snack, let me move on to my next favorite thing to eat."
-
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Please let me know if you'd be interested in reading any more Aemond content :)
Summary: Aemond spends time with your child so that you can have a much-needed break.
A/N: I'm back with more, Dad!Aemond, because I adore him so much. Aemond deserves someone who will love him as deeply and unconditionally as he loves them, and his baby definitely would. (Also, any dialogue in italics means the characters are speaking in high valyrian. I was too lazy to attempt to translate it.) No beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes.
âDaenys, please calm down,â you plead as you try to pacify the wailing girl.
Though your words seem to fall on deaf ears, she continues to scream and flail in your arms. You want nothing more than to join in as tears well in your eyes. You were at your wit's end. Nothing seemed to placate your child. Not even the sweets you had tried to bribe her with.Â
The nursemaids had changed her nappy several times. Theyâve tried feeding, bathing, offering toys, and even taking her for a walk in the gardens. Yet none of it worked. They brought her to you as a last resort, hoping she might be missing her mother. Unfortunately, their hopes went unfounded.
Daenys continued to thrash in your arms, and you struggled to keep a grip on her. She was surprisingly strong for someone so small.Â
âShh, itâs alright,â you coo, bouncing the fussy girl in your arms. âAre you tired? Shall we take a nap?â
Your questions only incite her fury. Daenys lets out an ear-splitting screech. You groaned, eyes closing in frustration at the situation.Â
âHow about we give your mother a break, hmm?â
You look up, finding your husband now standing before you. He takes your little girl into his arms, and for the first time in forever, she settles down. She doesnât squirm and try to get away from him, and her wails turn into low whimpers and quiet hiccups. You watch as he handles her with such ease. Aemond pats her back and talks to her in a soothing voice, gently bouncing her in his arms. Daenys rested her head on his shoulder, her tiny fists held tightly onto his coat.
âIâm terrible at this,â you huffed, shame blooming in your chest.Â
âNo, youâre not.â Aemond leaned down, pressing a gentle, reassuring kiss to your head. âIâll take her for a bit. Get some rest.â
You nod, grateful for his help. He waves Daenysâ hand towards you as they leave. You wave back until the pair disappear from your view. You sigh in relief as your body slumps onto the Grecian couch beneath you. You debate whether to continue with your book or take a quick nap.
-
Aemond holds Daenys close to his chest as he maneuvers himself off his saddle. Ser Rickard Thorne stands to the side, wearing his freshly polished armor and pristine white cloak. Aemond nods at him, and the white knight quickly takes Aemondâs horse by the reins, leading the horse away.
The dragon lord looked down, watching Daenys as she toyed with the wooden dragon in her hands. He smiled. The familiar warm fuzzy feeling that filled his entire body every time he laid his eyes on her returned. It was hard to believe that something so beautiful and innocent could come from him. But here she was. The two of you had created something- someone so precious.Â
A loud grumble sounded in the air. Aemond lifted his head, observing Vhagar. The giant dragon was hard to miss, even from a great distance.
The overgrown grass and twigs squish and cackle beneath his boots as he walked into the open field where the ancient she-dragon resided. Vhagar had outgrown the dragonpit years before he had even claimed her. Vhagar turned her giant head to the side, watching them as they approached. She shut her eyes again when she realized it was just him.
Daenys let out a delighted squeal when her eyes finally landed on the giant dragon. Aemond struggled to hold her as she excitedly kicked her legs and waved her arms. Aemound cursed under his breath as the wooden dragon toy fell to the ground. Oh well, he would retrieve it later.
âWhat is it, my little dragon?â He asked enthusiastically. âWhat do you see?â
 Daenys clapped her little hands and babbled, âVava!â
âVhagar? Do you see Vhagar?â
She looks up to him and nods her head. Her violet eyes lock onto his, and the two smile at each other. Aemond planted a kiss on the girlâs temple, gaining sweet, girlish giggles in response.
âVery good, my little dragon. It is Vhagar.â
Daenys begins to squirm in his arms and tries to push him away.
âWhat is it? Do you want down?â
Aemond looks down at the grass, checking for any potential dangers. Your little girl grunts and continues to try to push him away.
Aemond huffs, âAlright, alright.â
His lips curve downward into a slight frown. The two of you had been very proud and excited when Daenys started walking. However, Aemond was a little saddened by the fact that his sweet little girl didnât want to be in his arms all the time anymore.
His mother had told him that itâs normal for them to want to be more independent when they start walking. The man understood that, but he still did not like it one bit.
Aemond carefully lowers the little girl to her feet. Her chubby little fingers hold onto his hands as she tries to stabilize herself. When she finally stops wobbling, she lets go. Aemondâs heart races in his chest as he watches her take a small, shaky step forward. His hands immediately reach out to grab her, but he stops himself.
Daenys takes another step; this time, sheâs a bit more stable. She holds her arms out, trying to balance her weight as she trots forward. Aemond follows closely behind. With each step, he felt a twinge of panic in his chest. The man struggled not to swoop her into his arms every time she stumbled.
Thankfully, they made it to Vhagar rather quickly. Vhagar gave a small huff as Daenys small hands smacked against her snout.Â
âGentle,â Aemond warned sternly, well aware of his dragon's short temper.Â
The man kneeled next to her. He took one of Daenys little hands into his own, showing her how to pet Vhagarâs snout carefully. Daenys let out another excited squeal that made Aemond wince.Â
âYes,â he nodded. âItâs very exciting, but we must be quiet.â
Daenys pulled her hand away from his, wanting to try it alone. Vhagar remained still, resting lazily on her chin. Aemond stood back up. He rested his large palm against her warm green scales with a joyous smile. She truly is a sight to behold.
Vhagar was the largest and fiercest dragon in the world. Nothing could stand against her. And yet she decided that he, of all people, was worthy of her. That he deserved the privilege to call himself her rider. No one could question or deny his worth now.
âVava, pay?â
Aemond looked down, watching as his little girl tried to get the dragonâs attention. Her silver curls fell onto her face. The man reached down, pushing the strands of hair behind her ears. He felt a bit sorry for her. Vhagar was nowhere near as active as Daenys' little hatchling, who resided in the dragon pit. She did not flap her wings or let out any shrieks of excitement like Daenysâ hatchling did when they saw each other.
Daenys tugged on his coat. She turned her head up to look at him. Her brows were drawn together, and her bottom lip protruded further than her top lip. The look on her face tugged at his heartstrings.
âPlay? No, Vhagar does not want to play.â
Your little girl does not seem to accept his answer. She turns her attention back to the dragon, gently petting her scales a few more times. Daenys tries calling out to her again, but Vhagar still gives no response. Perhaps this wasnât such a good idea. Aemond initially planned to take her to the dragon pit, but he decided against it. Mostly because he wanted to come out and visit Vhagar. He could seldom go a day without coming to see his winged companion.Â
Suddenly, a loud grumble echoed in Vhagarâs throat. The dragon, finally having enough of the childâs affection, raised her head. Daenys, who was balancing herself on Vhagarâs head, fell back, landing on her bottom with a loud oomph.
âLykirÄ«, Vhagar. LykirÄ«,â Aemond commanded as he swiftly took Daenys into his arms.
Vhagar did not move, nor did she make a sound. The ancient dragon merely eyed the two of them. When Aemond felt confident enough that she would not act, he turned his attention to Daenys.
The look on her face is heart-wrenching. Her wide eyes filled with tears, and her trembling lips stretched into a deep frown. Her breath hitched as she tried not to cry. It makes Aemond feel like he wants to cry as well. He pressed a kiss to the childâs temple.
âDonât cry, my little love. Youâll be alright.â He tried to reassure her.
She blinks, and tears fall from her violet eyes. Sad, quiet whimpers escape from her lips. Tears started to well up in Aemondâs eye, his breath quivered, and a lump formed in his throat. He was never one to cry. It made him feel weak and small, something he despised more than anything.Â
But when his little girl was upset like this, he wanted to cry. Sometimes, he still wanted to cry even when she wasnât upset. There were many times when he would just watch her while she played or slept, and then suddenly, he would be hit with a massive wave of emotions. Aemond wondered if Viserys had ever felt that way when he looked at him or any of his siblings.
Vhagar let out a loud huff. A wave of hot air engulfs Aemond and Daenys. Aemond looks up, observing Vhagar carefully. The green dragon lowers her head, gently nudging her snout against the crying girl. Aemond raises his hand to wipe away Daenysâ tears.
âLook, sheâs sorry for making you sad.â
Daenys sniffled and turned to look at Vhagar. The corners of her mouth turned upwards. She giggled as she rested her forehead against Vhagarâs snout. Her little arms did their best to hug the dragonâs giant head.Â
Aemond chuckled lightly, raising his hand to give Vhagar a few rewarding pats. His chest was bursting with pride as he watched his favorite girls interact. The only one who was missing was you.
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