Hi there! I am a novice fanfic writer who just got back into writing after a decade long hiatus, and currently focused on Aemond Targaryen from House of the Dragon. I have plans to eventually explore other characters once I get the inspiration.
Inbox/ask box is open, I am always open to new ideas :)
what made the aemond and alicent scene work for me is that though aemond actually kissing her is an unpleasant surprise, as olivia says, somewhere alicent knows how aemond feels about her and is absolutely deliberately trying to use this to her advantage. she is being consciously seductive with her own teenage son to attempt to get him to do what she wants in a moment of crisis, while hoping he just stays safely on one side of this charge she is dangerously conjuring up. but of course, he does not, you can’t open this up like that and expect to be able to control its effects. it’s atrociously sad because exactly how alicent has been habituated to respond with this kind of tool kit to any problem has been made so clear - the parallels with her own father trying to manipulate HER at various points are obvious and deliberate - but it is thankfully a lot more complicated than “alicent is her horrible son’s victim” which certain glosses on it before made me worried about and which would have frustrated me. again it is just an encounter that leaves me depressed for absolutely everyone involved in a great way.
Love In The Darkest Of Places // modern!Aemond x Reader
Epilogue (aka smut)
You could feel his hardness against your leg. He began to slowly grind on you, showing you exactly how much he wanted you. His hand went from your waist to cup your ass. He squeezed it once then laid a soft smack on it.
Your eyes closed as you relished the feelings. You've wanted to be intimate with Aemond for so long but refused to push him but here he was, offering himself to you willingly and wholly. Moving your face closer to his, you brought your lips down to capture his own.
Your lips meshed together with his; you fit together perfectly. Without breaking the connection, Aemond pulled himself up then moved you to straddle his lap. He was hard against you. Carefully, you began to grind on him, moving your hips to get that desired friction against you.
“Aemond,” you whispered against him.
“Yes, love?”
“I want you.”
“Then you'll have me.”
Aemond quickly flipped you over so he towered over you while you were on your back. A wicked smiley crossed Aemond's face as he bent down to kiss your neck. You made as much room for him as possible; the kisses sent waves of pleasure down your body. With your back arching, you were soon drunk on Aemond’s touches.
One of his hands traveled up your body, starting at your waist then slowly making his way up to your chest. As he brushed your nipple through the fabric of your shirt, a gasp left you. Aemond smiled against your neck and brought his lips back to yours. Tugging up your shirt, he was able to shimmy you out of it, leaving your top bare before him.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he said. Dipping his head down, he brought his lips over your pert nipples and began to suck.
Closing your eyes, you lost yourself to the pleasure that coursed through your body. It started in your stomach and went down to your core. Everything felt so good, every feeling was heightened. Aemond switched between each nipple, making sure each one got its fair share of attention. You couldn’t help but tangle your hands in his hair, pulling at him for more. Your hips thrust up against him, trying to get that friction you so craved.
Aemond pulled up from your breasts. “I want you so bad, love.”
“Then take me,” you said before you crashed your lips back to his.
His hands massaged your breasts as he took your breath away. Aemond began to kiss his way down your body, stopping right at the top of your shorts. He ran his hands up and down your inner thighs, teasing you. Kissing you over your shorts, a sly smile played on his lips. Soon, he began mouthing at you. Sensations sang all throughout your body. Tilting your hips up, you tried to get more. All you wanted was more. More of Aemond. Acting as though he had all the time in the world, Aemond tugged down your shorts. You whimpered at the sudden cold burst of air but welcomed it all the same.
“So wet for me,” Aemond said as he dipped his fingers in your core.
Again, all you could do was whimper and be at his mercy.
“Can’t wait to taste you,” was the warning you got before he began feasting on you.
Aemond’s tongue dipped into you and you almost lost it right then and there. His hand moved so he could play with your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. You were completely lost to him. And then he switched. He dipped two fingers into you while he began sucking on your clit. You were a writhing mess on the bed, all at Aemond’s mercy. Finally, Aemond lifted his head up away from you. You could see the evidence of your slick on his face. You pulled him into a searing kiss, tasting yourself.
“I want you inside me, if you're willing,” you told him, giving him a way out just in case.
“Gods, I can't wait to fill you up,” he said in response.
Pulling down his pants, Aemond freed his cock. It was thick with a red top, already a little wet from the precum.
You couldn't help yourself, you leaned down and took him in your mouth. The salty taste of precum spurred you on. Swirling your tongue around his top, Aemond groaned and had to stop himself from pushing further into you. But you wanted more so you took as much of him in as you could. He filled your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Tears gathered in the corner of your eyes but you loved it. Bobbing your head up and down while hallowing out your mouth has him going crazy. You thought he was going to finish when he pulled you off of him.
“One day I'll cum in your mouth but today’s not the day, love,” he said. “Now lay down and spread those legs for me.”
You did as he told, feeling vulnerable yet safe. You would always feel safe with Aemond.
Moving to his knees, Aemond lined himself with you. Before he moved to enter you, however, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”
Slowly, he maneuvered himself inside you. The stretch was beautifully painful but you wanted more; you needed more.
“I'm okay, Aemond, I promise,” you reassured him. You could tell he was becoming unsure.
“I want to push all the way in but I don't want to hurt you,” he said.
“I promise you won't hurt me.”
With newfound confidence, Aemond pushed into you one last time, all the way in. You cried out his name in pleasure.
“Are you okay?” He quickly asked.
“More than okay,” you smiled. “But, please, I need you to move.”
Aemond began moving slowly, testing the waters. “You feel so good around me, love. Your warm pussy feels - fuck!”
You tried clenching around him to see what he would do and you were not disappointed. He began to pick up the pace, fucking you faster. Wrapping your legs around him, you urged him for more. Aemond quickly brought his head down to suck on a nipple before going back up.
Unwinding your legs, Aemond turned you over so you were on all fours and your ass was in the air. You wiggled your butt playfully, earning you a slap on the ass. Aemond sank into you quickly this time and didn't hesitate to fuck you.
You couldn't help the moans of pleasure that left your body. All you could think about was Aemond and how good he felt. You could feel yourself beginning to clench around him. “Fuck, Aemond, I'm gonna cum!”
“Then do it,” he growled as he continued to fuck you. “Milk my cock, squeeze it hard.”
You did just that. Pleasure burst through your body and you yelled out his name once again. “Please cum inside me,” you begged him. You clenched around him again, urging him to finish inside of you.
“Fuck, love, I'm almost there,” Aemond said through gritted teeth.
Soon, his thrusts became more intense, more sporadic. They lost whatever rhythm they once had. With two final thrusts, Aemond finished inside you, causing another orgasm for yourself.
Aemond fell on top of you but was careful not to crush you. You let your limbs go limp and fell onto the bed. That's how you laid, with him still inside you. You felt safe and loved with him.
After a few minutes, Aemond rolled over and pulled himself out of you. You cringed at the sudden loss of contact but was soon draped in his arms once again.
“I love you, Aemond,” you whispered.
“I love you, too,” he said before he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Time to sleep, love.”
As if on cue, you yawned and snuggled in closer to Aemond only to fall asleep within minutes.
Me blowing kisses to Matt for absolutely chewing the scenery whenever he was on screen:
From the moment Daemon popped on screen singing to the moment he lopped of [redacted]'s head. I was living.
Also me the way Ewan was with his acting from tough guy walk/slaughter time to that minute change in demeanor moment with Simon to how he was after he got [redacted]:
Prostitute reader that Aemond takes as wife once he becomes King. And doesn't care about social consequences.
Or if he takes her as a mistress instead. Either one works.
This took long Nonnie im sorry you had to wait. It is however...DONE.
Tags: Dark! King Aemond x prostitute reader, AU, greens win, death, murder, mention of starvation and other canon westeros themes.
🔷Summary: You met Aemond years ago, and fell in love. The war has ended, and he ended things in a letter. Now, he commands your return. You are unsure you can give him what he needs, with him being the king and you a mere whore. But Aemond is desperate to not let you go.
🔷Author's note: This took so long. But i hope i did it justice, Nonnie.
wordcount: 9188
Story begins under the cut.
The sigils had been changed after the final battle was won. The three legged dragon that once was red, then gold, is now gone. It was supposed to be simple and to have the same background as the previous sigil, but that would be too much for the newly crowned king to bear. He demanded a solution to the sigil problem, stating that the Blacks had lost this war and only will be remembered as traitors and villains. The King hired twenty seven different artists to design a new sigil, from all over the Kingdom and promised them mountains of gold if they could find a design that fitted his needs or he would kill them. At the end of that same day, twenty seven different corpses were dumped outside the castle’s gate, their heads mounted on spikes so the birds could peck their eyes out. The people of the castle reacted with horror and disgust to the heads now blocking the view of the city. In the city itself, people had their own problems so they didn’t care that their King had added twenty and seven corpses to the pile. Maybe they did care once. But not anymore.
Starvation, murders and crime had risen since the new King’s appointment. People were unhappy and a new war was brooding… And you…Well, you were about to make it even worse.
You think of his hands holding you down as he takes firmly, without a regard for manners or honours. You think of how his tongue has tasted you, how he groaned when he found out how wet you were for him. You think of him pinning you down, hands above your head as he pounds away at your core, not a care in the world and no one, no one to stop him. Fuck him. No, fuck him. You think-
The door of your office is opened, without a respectful knock or a cough. You rise up, curious who has the audacity to interrupt you without your permission. To your surprise, it is a familiar Dornish face that greets you. You sweep into a mocking curtsy, not giving a damn if it's uneven or wrong. You sit back and inspect the crutch he walks with, and conclude he is not here for pleasure. He can barely stand. ‘’Lord Commander. Are you here for business on behalf of Prince Aemond?’’
‘’King Aemond,’’ he corrects you sharply. Right. That has happened. ‘’He has better things to do than to visit brothels.’’ You never quite liked him. You read his face, peering into his soul and observe the hidden sadness and the obvious defeat that is resting there. You force yourself to smile. ‘’The King has commanded you to come to the castle. You best heed his command.’’ You think. You pretend so. You shake your head after. He was too busy to send you an invite to his coronation. You don’t mean shit to him, and you never did. He is a noble prince and yet you let your guard down, and in the end, as always, you got hurt.
You dip your quill to violently in the ink, making a mess of your paper by a big drop of ink that ends up on a letter.‘’Aemond has it far too busy fucking maidens and siring a heir. He has no need for me.’’ You bow your head, and pretend to focus on your correspondence but a fist slams near inches from your face, warning you to look up. Ser Criston glares at you, and when he does you feel more than his hatred. You feel his fear. His despair. You saw few men like that, and when you did it was often around war.
The sort of bleak, empty eyes that haunt your brothel now as men with whatever coin they can part with try to forget their sorrows and the blood that stains their hands. ‘’The realm has a need for you. He needs you.’’ The realm. You roll your eyes. What does he take you for? Some septa who will run into Aemond’s arms because he needs you? And what a cart of horseshit. You could never be needed by the realm.
‘’I am a whore.’’ You reply, reminding yourself what Aemond said in his final letter to you. ‘’There can never be anything between me and Aemond. He has a broken realm, a whore carrying his child will not heal it.’’ You ignore the pain in your heart when you speak those words. You always boasted so proudly you never wanted children. That they annoyed you. But you feel sick when you think of someone else, another lady, having his child. Him being proud of her, for she can offer things you never could, despite all your best efforts and intentions.
The Kingsguard just smiles sadly. ‘’You are to come to the castle and to Aemond’s side, or I am to burn down the establishment and kill every girl I can find.’’ Your quill drops as your face feels cold as a corpse. You hear his words, somehow not imagining Aemond is capable of speaking them. You play the words back in your mind, repeat them and try to find the lie but it's not there. You sigh, cursing before standing up, and leaving your desk at long last, following the commander down the street.
King’s Landing has become a terribly depressing place. A man with rotting teeth wheels by a cart with bodies, calling out to the anxious waiting crowd to come and have a look, to see if their family members are among those killed. As you walk past your favourite sewster, the ones that made dresses for your meetings with Aemond, you notice the windows barred closed and shut. You wonder if she got out of town on time, before the pillaging began. But when the wind strikes up and you smell a disgustingly familiar smell, you look up and see her hanging above her own shop. Hands bound, throat cut and birds pecking away at her flesh. You have seen and endured a lot. Yet you are speechless. ‘’What did she do?’’ You ask Cole, hoping he knows. He takes a few steps to the left, inspecting the walls. He gestures for you to come. The wall is covered in green paint, bloody handprints and hatred. There is a phrase written on the wall. ‘’She laid with the enemy.’’ You huff in disbelief and disgust. Your opinion is still that if this was a man, he wouldn’t be judged for who he slept with. You are also aware that if the other side of that …woman, had won, you’d hang the same. And another part of you wonders if it's even true, this accusation. It is not like she can prove it. And who’s to say she slept with the enemy because she liked it so much? Maybe she was forced.
You feel another gush of wind as you and Cole continue the walk to the castle. It is an impressively unimpressive building. It is massive, and red. Aside from that, it could be a church. You miss statues, dramatic touches and maybe fancy watergardens. You miss soul and character when you look at the Red Keep. You miss…dynasty. The Banners have been taken down, as you indeed had heard. The new King has a small identity crisis about his sigil moving forward. You laugh, and quickly hide it with a cough as the commander catches on, shooting a glare your way. The courtyard gate is opened for you, and Ser Criston seems to brace himself. You wonder why.
As the gate is thrown open by two guards, who both look at you puzzled and confused, you glance past the yard. Your feet nearly give out, your hands cover your mouth as you release a horrified gasp. The man with the corpse cart is not as horrifying anymore. The tiles of the courtyard where you and Aemond drunkenly chased each other, where he sang to you, the tiles where you had your first kiss with him, with only the stars as witness, those same tiles are soaked with blood. Bodies are piled up, or attempted so, as they fall off each other, likely stacked in a hurry. You notice these corpses don’t wear peasantry outfits. Their outfits are of good quality and they often still wear jewelry. A few girls dressed in new white servant dresses rip off the necklaces of ladies’ necks and take rings from the Lords that are scattered across the garden. Whatever they need to do to survive, you suppose.
Cole walks past it all as you try your best to keep moving, to keep in his company. ‘’Who are all those people?’’ You whisper, trying to get information as you approach the two guards guarding the entrance to the castle itself. They have a new spotless armor with golden details, laid in a black armor. You notice one big dragon crushing two others in a fight on the crest. You know who those dragons are supposed to be.
Your feet already hurt. ‘’Lords and Ladies in Rhaenyra’s council. Aemond brought them here to be trialed.’’ You know his answer to injustice all too well by now. ‘’You can see the verdict.’’ Cole’s reply is stone cold and harsh. You turn around and look at the corpses one last time. ‘’Aemond denied them proper burials. Their souls are to be cast to the Seven hells.’’ He informs you, glaring at you still. ‘’You understand now why I brought you here?’’ So yours can be cast down there too? You are confused. Aemond ended things. Aemond told you, very clearly, he doesn’t want you anymore. He has clearly moved on and needs to fuck a noble girl from some foolish dumb house with an even dumber sigil like a pretty horsie pregnant and to breed her to dead-
Cole breaks your overthinking by laying a hand on your shoulder. You know what he wants to hear. ‘’I don’t know.’’ you say instead.
Cole grabs you by your neck, but it’s not anger. It is desperation. ‘’You’re my last hope. Get through to him. Make him change his mind.’’ You groan in annoyance as you follow him inside the throne room. Does he think you have a magic wand? That you can wave it and poof, all is well again? Who’s fault is that Aemond is now sitting the throne because it sure isn’t yours.
You are caught off guard and rendered speechless as you notice Aemond, wearing the crown on his silver haired scalp and sitting crosslegged on the throne. A sword is resting in his dominant hand, but it is not his sword. You know it isn’t. It is broader, for one. Less subtle. It seems to be one of the famous Valyrian steel swords. Aemond did once told you during a visit that he’d like one. Looks like he got it. His clothing has changed from someone mend to blend into the background to someone ruling a kingdom. He looks like a king, wearing his battle armor, made just for him.
A small quartet is playing songs nearby, likely entertaining the young king as he finishes his business. You wonder if he has some near his chamberpot too. You don’t like the melodramatic tone they play, and wonder if they ever will give you the pleasure of shutting up. You even consider taking Aemond’s sword from him and sliding the snares on their instruments, but refrain from doing so.
Because one look at Aemond, and you know in your dark rotten heart it is true. You never once stopped loving him. He has become a monster. But a monster you love all the same.
Aemond’s empty glaze betrays he is as bored as you are, as his fingers scratches his head, moving the crown a few inches up. You watch the Valyrian steel thing move, wondering how many Kings who died have worn it before him. Ser Criston clears his throat, presenting you as if you are a noble lady. ‘’Lady Waters, my King.’’ He says. You are a Lady now. That certainly is one of the better nicknames you have been given.
The King flinches as if stung by a wasp. He quickly changes stance as he looks at you, inspecting your humble clothes and cloak. A smile seems to grow as he sits taller, prouder and wider. ‘’Excellent work. You can leave us now.’’ Cole does as he is told, warning you to wield whatever magic you hold over Aemond, with his desperate brown eyes. You glance at the quartet still playing their song. Aemond coughs, and waves his hand, signaling for them to stop. ‘’You played wonderfully today. How about a break. Go enjoy the courtyard.’’ Now it is your turn to flinch. You look at Aemond, mouth shut and eyes unmoving but your chin goes a few inches down, hinting he shouldn’t do that. He seems to remember the bodies too, and pretends to have simply changed his mind. ‘’On second thought, please take a stroll through the gardens instead. I am..having the courtyard cleaned. We had some rats.’’ You shiver at that double meaning. The quartet happily packs up and leaves, likely all too aware of the courtyard’s situation as they likely came from the courtyard to begin with.
You cross your arms over your chest as Aemond takes his sweet time getting up, and walking down the steps of the iron throne. The swords fail to cut him, to cast him down to hell and you are both annoyed and glad. ‘’Won’t you bow, for your King?’’ He remarks when he is in front of you, smirking. Your knees protest but you force them to bow for your King. He smiles, pleased. He gestures around the throne room. ‘’I am glad you are here.’’ You stiffly ignore him. ‘’I missed you.’’ He whispers, a bit gently. ‘’I have been thinking.’’
Thinking. Truth be told, you are shocked. ‘’You’ve been doing more than just thinking. I’ve seen the courtyard.’’ You remark, your voice rising with every word you speak. He seems displeased at your anger, at your shaking body and barely contained tears. First he is something else. Something else entirely that scares you. He seems upset and disappointed that you don’t enjoy this bloody surprise.
He claps his hands, sighing as if it all bores him. ‘’Good. Let it be a warning. A warning for what happens to those who oppose us.’’ Us. Your heart betrays you at that word. It jumped, it was suffocating and Aemond just let it breathe again. You tell it to shut up in your head, and play all the corpses over and over and over again in your head, forcing the images down your mind.
You need to be strict now. You cannot be dragged into this fantasy. ‘’There is no us, Aemond. People expect you to lay with a noble maiden and to fuck her -’’ It is true. Aemond is expected to marry a Queen now, sire an heir and nowhere does a whore fit into this future.
But one look at his face and you know you cannot allow that. And neither can he. He grabs you tightly not caring who sees and who knows. ‘’I don’t want noble maidens. I want you.’’ He kisses you desperately, as if you are under a curse only his kiss can break. As if he can sway you into joining him, as if he can reverse time and lose himself deep within your very soul. The kiss is fierce and welcome, and just the sort of rush you needed. You feel desired and wanted, you feel as if you matter and you admit you missed his hands slightly grabbing your body, making sure he has the control. It is something you’ve gotten used to, at this point. Your eyes open as he stops the kiss. ‘’I am King now.’’ He whispers, worried that one wrong word will send you running.
You never liked his position. Now even less. You look up to the crown. ‘’I noticed.’’ It is a hideous thing. Made of rubies and Valyrian steel. You quietly wonder if he didn't have something else in a vault somewhere.
His hands reach again, and this time you feel his thumb caress your hands gentle the way a lover would. ‘’I need you by my side.’’
He makes you sound like his cure.
When in reality you are the sickness.
You think of what Cole said. About how Aemond threatened your establishment and your friends. Your family, in truth. You know it's exaggerated or a lie but your heart has been burned before. You can give him one last chance. But you need to know if he threatened your friends…Your establishment, everything you build up into this miserable world and the only place where you ever felt safe.
You remove his hands from your own staring into his eye. You take a deep breath. “Is it true if I hadn't come, that Ser Criston was to massacre my friends and to set fire to my home?” You need to know this for your own peace of mind.
You expect a quick no.
A quick “just a safety measure."
But only silence is what remains.
A deafening, soul-crushing and heartbreaking silence that confirms you don’t know what Aemond was capable of. You never quite did. You cover your mouth, aware you don't know this man in front of you at all. He did order it. ‘’Those girls are my friends.’’ you say, your voice strained.
He sighs once more, smiling as he tries to reassure you that nothing is wrong. “It was to free you. You cannot run a brothel and be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.” You laugh at first thinking he's joking. You, Queen? You double over with laughter, thinking he is jesting. No one, no soul alive is worse suited than you to be Queen.
But then your laugh dies as he glares at you, offended you dared to laugh. ‘’Make no mistake here. I love you, but I will be your King. I have no trouble doing what must be done, what already has been done.’’ Your heart drops as you feel the weight of the responsibility of the brothel lift and it crashes down dozens times atop of it. You don't feel free. You feel trapped and guilty. He's burning it down. Right now. It’s why Cole left. It’s why the doors closed. It’s why-
You don’t think, you just turn around, ready to run and to run fast. You will run harder until your knees break and your legs give out and you don’t care if you die, you will return to your home. But someone has other plans. The King holds you, not letting you out of his sight. ‘’Let me go!” Aemond holds you only tighter, making sure you have nowhere to go. You begin to sob in his arms, as he gently rubs your face, ignoring the tears and the snot coming out of you.
‘’No,’’ he whispers against your teary cheeks. ‘’It is done. You are free of a great burden.’’ His gaze is drawn to your lips and before you can register it, he has kissed you again. He moans against your lips, holding you still in a painful uncomfortable position. His eye lowers to the cloak covering your simple gown. “You have nothing and no one but me.” He declares as you cry. He grabs your chin. “As it should be. Nothing holds you back from joining me.”
He burned it all down.
Never again will you walk into your own safe home. Never again will you hear the laughter of your friends. One girl you saved just the other day. She had an abusive husband. You told her, he would never hurt her again. You promised her she would be safe. How is she safe now, a pile of smoldering ashes? He destroyed it all. He broke your heart. It was the one place in this world a bastard whore like yourself could possibly feel safe. And he took that from you. He knew the importance of the place and yet he had the attack carried out. He knew when he was luring you here that you wouldn't go back there.
He awkwardly touches your face again, trying to read your emotions as you become utterly silent and calm. “Now, I understand you have questions but rest assured I've taken care of everything-” He grew up in King’s Landing.
You grew up in Flea Bottom. You don't wait for him to finish speaking.
You raise your hand, ready to hit him. So he raises his own to block you. In that moment his stomach is free, and you bury your fist down, glaring at him as tears burst and a grunt escapes him. It satisfies you, but it’s not enough. Nothing will be enough. “I cannot be your whore anymore. You have taken everything from me. My home, my friends. It has been enough.” you warn him between the sobs. You turn around ready to leave him. To go to your burning home and save what can be saved.
But you forget one thing. That Aemond is always one step ahead. He wouldn't have you just walk out of there. Not alive. You shriek as a shadow falls over you, and something heavy pins you down against the tiles. You look up at Aemond, who now holds you against the stone tiles, the crown a few steps away from him.
“I'll decide that," he whispers when leveling the dagger against your throat. “I love you. I did this to protect you. I have Seven Kingdoms to feed and to charm. You'll help me with that. Once your womb has quickened and an heir is here, an heir worthy of the Iron Throne, all our problems will disappear.” His other hand, the one without the terrifying golden dagger pets your belly, as if picturing it already. You shake your head. He just chuckles softly. “You are going to be my Queen. Whether you like it or not.”
He is foolish. “The people of King's Landing know what I did, Aemond! You crown me, and you'll kill both of us.” You don't expect him to care about you. He clearly doesn’t. But you do expect him to want to survive. It's all he did all those years. It's all you did as well.
His smirk dies as he seems to wake up. “You cannot kill them all.” You add your voice more stable. “You cannot win this war.”
He scoffs, anger returning. “Rhaenyra surrendered. Which is exactly why we will be executing her soon in front of the realm. You'll be there for it too, wearing proper attire for a Queen. I'll appoint you in front of the gods, the realm, and whatever else there is.” Whatever else there is. Dignity, your honour, whatever remained of that. That is what else there is. Yet he doesn’t care.
He has it all figured out. Daemon died, his daughters died, his sons died, whatever Rhaenyra bred died, and so did any other Black sympatists. You just don’t believe that they were the biggest threat. What of the people who starved the most? What of the people, who lost their homes, their families to war? They don’t see that, they wouldn’t see it if it was happening right in front of them. They never cared for the tiny people, for the small folk. “And what if the realm turns on us? They turned on your sister just as easily.” You reply, knowing he has no good response to this.
He opens his mouth but you stare at his teeth. You tilt your head, your sharp tongue getting the better of him again. “You always called her a whore. What makes me different from Rhaenyra? What makes me worthy?” You never quite saw Rhaenyra as a whore. Rhaenyra was born and raised in a castle wearing silk gowns. You doubt she ever has spread her legs for coin. Aemond means her children's questioned parentage and her endless lies about them. But those children are gone. Her husbands are gone. The realm will see a weeping mother and you will need to somehow convince them that you are the right woman for this job, when another ‘’whore’’ is put to death?
You cannot believe the insanity of it all. Aemond’s head lowers, and you understand he has given up. You crawl away from him, watching the knife closely. You don’t hear him say a word as you get up. ‘’No.’’ It terrifies you. It is no beg or a plea. But a fact. It is a threat. You have a split moment to act before he has run up behind you, his obsession driving him to do madness. The dagger is raised again, and you fear for your life. “The fact that you are mine, makes you worthy. I know once you understand what the crown requires and how heavy it is, you'll stop your selfish tantrums and listen to me.” Tantrums. You scoff and get ready to hit him again but this time he's ready and painfully catches your fist twisting your arm behind your back.
He killed your friends, women you saved from husbands, women you thought were safe, women who you gave your word would never fear another man again. Selfish isn’t the word, nor the answer. It is entirely justified. Perhaps if he ever had any friends himself, he would have understood this. You know too well he does not have any friends.“Selfish tantrums?! You burned my house down and killed my friends-” Your words are cut off as his hands go around your throat, ready to choke you.
“Enough,” he bites out, staring at your lips. He doesn't release your throat but does stop choking you for now. Yet he keeps holding you. He closes the distance and steals a deep needy and desperate kiss. A moan escapes the young king and you feel his body slam into yours. “You claim to be so saintly recently. I know what you are. You've always been a lonely orphan girl, looking for which cock to suck to survive. Just sucking won't be enough this time. I will burn it all down if it means keeping you by my side. Your brothel is the prime example. Your friends are too.” He leans in, his breath hastily in a way you know he is close to spiraling. He takes a deep breath, trying to get himself together as you glare, your throat still touched by his cold long fingers. ‘’I once told you we need to play the board in front of us. But I am done with it. My own mother sold me out to that whore. My own brother send assassins after me and my own sisters wanted me dead for being born more capable than their brains could even comprehend.’’ You don’t speak a word, knowing that whatever word you speak won’t be enough to capture your grief and utter disappointment in this man. You remain utterly silent. The fingers slowly slip from your throat, as if giving you time to change your mind. Your eyes look up at Aemond as he staggers back, nodding as if convincing you and himself that this is nothing to him. That you are nothing to him.
There is no emotion left in that one lonely eye when he tilts his head, folds his arms on his back and steps forward. ‘’So be it then.’’ The King returns to the Iron throne, as you make a final curtsy. You watch him knowing well he is acting even more desperately than usual. You keep your distance, and walk backwards so he cannot surprise you with another sneak attack. Your legs begin to protest as your heart cries but you keep pushing yourself past limits as you remind yourself firmly you cannot become a Queen and more importantly: You won’t be the reason for his downfall.
Your thoughts are interrupted as Aemond sighs, looking away and instead begins to clean dirt from beneath his fingernails with a dagger. You feel a hand on your shoulder, and turn around, looking into Ser Criston’s familiar face. He still has the crutch, but his expression is less joyful this time. He seems disappointed you weren’t able to lie to Aemond. You expect him to escort you out to be executed. ‘’Lock her in the former queen’s rooms. Have her prepared. I will crown her at sunset.’’ You turn your head, confused. You begin to protest but Cole beats you to it.
He looks at the banners that are half torn down, banners with Hightower and Targaryen colours alike. ‘’Shouldn’t the High Septon do so, my King?’’ The idea of having a High Septon crown you, a whore, would almost be so hilarious that you would laugh. However you do not. Neither does Aemond, who sees this as another challenge to his rule, and rises, raising Blackfyre with him.
He points the sword up, to the gigantic mosaic glass window behind him. ‘’The Targaryens are closer to the gods any Septon has ever been. I will do so myself. My father was weak, his father was weak, King Jaehaerys was weak. They have been too merciful with the smallfolk and the Realm suffered because of it. Fire and Blood will have meaning again, once I have begun to fully rule.’’ You gulp at those words unintended. ‘’My Maester will be with the Queen shortly. I want to know if she is capable of-..’’ His voice takes a tired turn. You shake your head at him, tears stinging. ‘’-Having my heirs.’’ It is as if a cold bucket of ice water is splashed down your spine. Aemond studies your reaction and nods. ‘’You may lock the Queen away now, Ser Criston.’’ Cole begins to escort you out. ‘’O, and one last thing…’’ Aemond allows himself to sink back on the iron throne, legs spread wide. ‘’If you question my command a second time, you will lose your tongue. I have no patience for lickspittles but I don’t appreciate imbeciles either.’’ You give him a final glare before Criston marches you out.
—-
Aemond is standing near the big balcony glancing down at whatever lays below. You are still on the bed in the Queen’s bedchambers. ‘’Maester Orwyle is taking his time.’’ You mutter, not caring that Aemond can hear you. He just ignores you anyway. He does seem to perk up at the mention of Orwyle, and turns his head, facing you for the first time. There is a knock on the door and you hear it is not your friend. It is not the same man who helped you protect women and helped them get rid of their unborn babies. You hear so by the fact he knocks two times, not three. You glare, your teeth revealing as you notice the superior face of Aemond and his cautious eye watching you, almost scared how you will react. In conclusion: He killed Orwyle.
An older man enters wearing the classic maester gown, smelling like death and piss. You glare at Aemond, instantly removing your legs from the bed. You will not be inspected by a man who is that old nor your friend. Orwyle was a trusted member of the council. This man smells like King’s Landing and that is not a compliment. His eyes are too narrow and his smirk is too bright. Aemond act instantly the moment your feet find the ground again, and he is by your side. “Be gentle with her.” The King tells his maester. “I do want answers but be gentle.”
The Maester looks at you. Then back at the King, and then back at you. ‘’Well, my King. Moon tea can be dangerous for active pregnancies, but we found no information that it should impact the womb in general.’’ You smile, relieved. There won’t be any inspection needed, then! Aemond is less pleased and raises his finger, ready to lecture the old man.
‘’I believe that my own mother swallowed some of that cursend brew when she fucked the King’s Guard.’’ Your jaw drops at that juicy scandal. You saw Queen Alicent once and you never suspected her capable of such things. Aemond glares at your amused face so you quickly hide it. ‘’Orwyle told her that her stomach could be upset and that bleedings were more common, is this true yes or no?’’ You know it is true. From other women, you have seen that this is the case. A child in the womb needs to leave somehow. Blood, small bodies, you’ve seen both. But the choice was always the Mother’s. She is the one the child relies on.
The Maester has a comical response to the King threatening him and simply lowers the finger Aemond raised calmly as if telling an angry child to behave. Aemond is shocked at this. ‘’If the woman carrying the child drinks it, then yes. But given the fact the young Queen and you are actively trying for an heir, an heir strong enough to carry the Seven Kingdoms, I assume the Queen will avoid drinking such unholy medicine.’’ You scoff quietly but keep your face hidden. “Moontea only damages the child, not the mother. Aside from its known side effects. The Queen seems in a perfect state to carry and have an heir.” Aemond’s offended lips slowly spread into a smile, as he looks at you with so much pride and happiness that it almost makes you sick. He leans in, kissing your mouth as his hands touch your neck, feeling the area he choked earlier. The Maester clears his throat. ‘’Of course, the Queen is yet to be crowned and married. You do not want another bastard on the throne, do you, my King? We fought all so hard to avoid just that.’’ You keep your mouth shut but have problems doing so. Aemond is quick to dismiss the Maester by telling him that he should check on the prisoners.
—
The windows of the sept outside are decorated with ugly hasty flowerbraids. You wonder where Aemond even found enough folks to make them. You think they look hideous. Aemond waves as the carriage is paraded through the streets, the same streets where your brothel burned down, the same streets where an innocent woman was hanged for being unfaithful. It is the same streets where hungry peasants have come out, as ants hiding beneath the earth to see their leader, their leader who caused all this suffering. People glare and shuffle closer as Aemond pretends to be the rightful King. ‘’They hate us.’’ You say, with a satisfied smirk. Aemond tilts his head to you, smiling as if you are acting foolish. He kisses your cheek, keeping the illusion that you haven’t been together before. Aemond lifts his hand, and on his command, a second carriage races behind you, stopping in front of the angry mob. Two soldiers throw with tasty vegetables, fresh chickens and salty fish as the crowd screams for more. You turn your head, shocked at this display as the same angry crowd now seems pleased. A woman who was ready to rip Aemond’s other eye out earlier now falls to her knees, thanking the king because her child can eat. Aemond takes the moment to stop his carriage, rising. ‘’Thank not me, but the Gods! They have restored the rightful heir to the Iron Throne! Enjoy this small gesture of my generosity, and know there is more in the Sept! We grieved too long, tonight, we will celebrate!’’ You roll your eyes as cheers erupt even louder, damaging your hearing. Aemond seems pleased with the cheering and sinks back into the carriage, patting your leg at your disappointed face. ‘’You aren’t the only one who knows how to play a crowd.’’
‘’Where did you find all this food?’’ You whisper back, angrily. He just chuckles.
‘’A little birdie in the North. Cregan Stark wants to save his little hide. He sends this and more my way, as part of reparations. I expect all realms who supported the usurper and her bastards breed to do so, or else they are welcome to face my blade.’’ He pats blackfyre, who he brought along for the occasion. The carriage comes to a halt in front of the Sept, and the crowd has followed you. They chant Aemond’s name and praise the gods and him.
Inside, you and Aemond are separated. “I hope you are happy, Ser Criston.” You tell him as your cloak is prepared. You are taken back by the sigil. You are a bastard. You have no sigil or a crest. So Aemond invented one. A white maiden cloak is brought forward by four loyal ladies, displaying the Poppy laying in a field of snow. You remember vaguely the story you told Aemond once, about what your sigil would look like if you were a noble lady. Back when you truly loved him. It seems it stuck.
Ser Criston sees it differently. You wonder if he truly slept with Alicent. “I am thrilled, my Lady. You will distract him.” Cole says as the women put the cloak over your wedding dress. So he still thinks you magically wield influence over Aemond. You laugh. You thought you could ruin this moment for him, but he somehow made the crowd love him. You were an idiot for underestimating Aemond.
You sniff, trying to fight emotions. “How am I to distract him?” Your voice remains a cautious whisper.
Cole stops smiling and crosses his arms. “As you did before.”
You snarl. “He wants a child. An heir. I cannot deliver that. I am a mere bastard and a whore.” You remind him, as the ladies quickly shuffle away to avoid hearing these claims.
Ser Criston quickly looks if no one else is watching you. Then he grabs your arms tightly. You are taken back. “You'll be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms once you leave this room. You will learn to play Aemond and to make life better for everyone-’’ You interrupt him with a chuckle and a single tear. You look at his white cloak.
“Truth be told, there is no unhappier whore than the Queen. Who fights for her and her honour? Truly, Ser Criston?” His silence tells you all you need to know.
A woman collects you as he no doubt overthinks that question.
Aemond waits by the Septon, who apparently isn’t good enough to crown you, but is good enough to wed you to him. Crowds of peasants and remains of noble houses have gathered, all eagerly glancing at the massive tables covered with food. You slowly make your way to Aemond, Ser Criston escorting you until Aemond can take it over and walk you up the steps. You wait patiently as Aemond uncloaks you, and a familiar dark green cloak rests now on your shoulders, displaying his dragon and a sapphire crown. He did found some design he was happy with. Aemond places the crown next, as the crowd watches. ‘’I give you stability, I give you peace and I give you, your new Queen.’’ Aemond declares as he puts the crown on your head. The starving crowd is aesthetic as that moment is the moment the guards step away and allow the hungry crowd to finally eat at the massive feast Aemond prepared.
Satisfied, the King sits down on the small throne they built for him in the sept. He quickly notices you are lacking one, and orders a servant to bring you a comfortable chair. A woman with a baby comes closer to you, cautiously of the guards who are cautious of her in return. ‘’Y-your Grace. Thank you for the wedding feast. May the Maiden bless you. May the Mother grant you many sons.’’ You smile, politely. She steps up a bit closer. ‘’May I bless your womb, your Grace?’’ She extends her hand. You stand up.
Ser Criston is quick to act as he pushes you behind him, shielding you as the woman who wanted to bless your womb takes out a small hidden blade. Aemond is on his feet as well, shouting commands as the crowd is panicking. The woman is quickly disarmed and captured and her lovely face is nothing but a scowl as she screams. ‘’The usurper King must die! The usurper King must die! Long live Queen Rhaenyra!’’ The words make you feel ill. Aemond has a familiar reaction. He takes Blackfyre and kicks the woman against her knees, forcing her down on the ground as a dog. Then he chops her head off, sending it rolling down the stairs. Defeated, you sink into the chair that the servant has quietly placed for you. You glance at Aemond but he doesn’t even notice you anymore. He is barking orders at his soldiers, and slowly every bit of trust he built that day for the smallfolk is destroyed within mere moments.
‘’Ser Criston,’’ Aemond’s voice is cold and calm amongst the chaos. ‘’Lock the doors of the Sept.’’ He orders. Ser Criston turns around, confused. Aemond steadies himself as if preparing for battle. Ser Criston no doubt remembers the warning Aemond gave him very well. Yet he glances at you and shakes his head.
‘’My king, all due respect, the masses are turning mad. They should all leave the Sept, and so should you and the Queen. Your safety cannot be guaranteed.’’
‘’A dragon does not flee from the sheep. In fact, I want to invite another guest. Bring me the Whore of Dragonstone.’’ Aemond’s voice somehow rises, cutting all shouts from the frightened villagers to silence. ‘’Bring me Rhaenyra Targaryen.’’
–
Rhaenyra is brought in in chains, wearing a grey sack. Her locks are messy and unbrushed, tangled and she seems tired. She also seems thin as a papersheet. You don’t doubt that Aemond is torturing her. You know so. He once confessed she wanted him tortured too. So in his mind it is no doubt well deserved. Rhaenyra is brought before you and the King. She is shackled and bruised. Aemond holds up the head of the woman. He throws it her way, and it lands right before her feet. ‘’Another one of your supporters.’’ He bites out angrily. ‘’You almost killed my Queen.’’ Rhaenyra looks at the head. ‘’Speak, woman. Say what you can to possibly justify this.’’
‘’I never saw this woman in my life, brother.’’ She steps forward, as the guard watches her. Aemond tells them to stand down. She is shackled after all. She cannot hurt a fly. ‘’She is but a small part of the grant scheme. I am the rightful Queen. I am she who was promised and you are sitting on my throne.’’ She lets out a mad shriek as she notices you. ‘’You are guilty too. How can you sit there and be his pet knowing well he slaughters the masses?’’ You watch the smallfolk mumble and agree quietly. You decide its been enough and rise.
‘’How many have died under your reign, Rhaenyra? How many died because of your own indecisiveness and your own selfishness? You wanted Aemond and Aegon dead before they were even born. How many servants have you killed because they were a threat to your secret relationships, where illegitimate bastards were born from, bastards who soiled the realm and caused us all to starve!’’ Lies. All lies. You know so in your heart. But you will not lose Aemond. Not tonight. ‘’You had your chance and you failed. The rightful King prevailed and you lost. Now accept your losses with dignity.’’ Rhaenyra shrieks again.
Aemond slowly grabs blackfyre. It is Ser Criston who walks her down to the blade. Aemond makes a show of it, forcing everyone to bear witness to this beheading. You wonder if he learned anything at all. At the end of the line, Rhaenyra pauses, staring at her brother and the guard. She steps closer to Ser Criston, and chuckles. ‘’You offered me escape once. I denied you. You offer me escape again, I shall now accept it.’’ He seems confused at her words, glancing at Aemond’s blade and you understand she sees death as an escape. She raises her head and looks Aemond in the eye. ‘’I have dreaded the day you were born. I never gave you a fair chance because of it. You and Aegon. Because I knew in my heart, I was meant for greater things you two couldn’t even imagine. You stole my throne, murdered my children and my husband. You kept me alive but barely. You think you are punishing me, Aemond. You think you end my reign here. But my reign like yours has just begun. I have suffered too much in this life. I welcome the blade of my ancestor, and I welcome my children as I see them all again. I only grieve for you, for your suffering is just beginning.’’ Aemond pretends to hide it with a shout of anger, but he gulps at her words as the blade is brought down, cutting down the head of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her eyes are closed and she has a peaceful calm expression. It is strange. But you are jealous of a corpse.
“My sister's head should be displayed on a spike.” Aemond groans as another guard asks him what he wants done with Rhaenyra’s remains. You look at the former queen's jewels and fine silk gown. She didn’t know you. She never suffered in ways you have. But you haven’t suffered in ways she has. She remains a woman.
You step in. “Give the rest of her body a proper funeral and let only women attend her.” Aemond huffs and frowns as if your answer puzzles him.
“Why?” Your silence answers all his questions. He looks at Rhaenyra's corpse a second time, before nodding as if agreeing that is best. “Have my sister burned. Her ashes can be scattered at the Vale. She liked it there better.“ He folds his arms on his back and waits for the guard to leave. He turns to you, disgusted. ‘’You think they'd do that to a corpse?”
You shake your head, recalling the many lonely nights in King’s Landing. “I've seen them do that to a corpse. Your sister's name will be cursed for hundreds of years. The least we can do is grant her body some dignity.” You tell him, patting his arm.
He glances at her remains. “She never had mercy for me.” You know. “She wanted me tortured. For speaking the truth.” His hands become fists as he recalls that night. You quickly reach out and touch him, to bring him back to the present. He is no longer that boy. She is dead. ‘’A boy, her own blood.’’
You plead. “Then show the realm now you are better than her and have mercy for her body.”
Aemond groans. “But-”
You reach out for his hands. “Show me then, at least.”
He nods, and does not call back the silent sisters when they have come for Rhaenyra’s body.
–
The King’s chambers are less depressing than the Queen’s. They are broader, with a better view at windows. In the Queen’s room, almost all but one window were sealed off. You wonder if Aemond did that to keep you in, or if his rumored mad sister who was Queen before Rhaenyra also lived in those rooms. And Rhaenyra lived in this one, briefly. Ghosts of the past seem to haunt you wherever you turn. You wish to burn the keep to the ground.
Aemond is sitting near the fireplace. You are on the bed, your head resting on comfortable pillows yet sleep won’t come. You are both silent and deep in thought. You imagined he would’ve been eager to make this heir he keeps speaking of but now that he is allowed to, all appeal seems to have vanished.
There is a knock on the door, followed by a guard entering the room. Aemond is nearby within a second, wielding blackfyre. “Rhaenyra's body has been cremated.’’ He informs the King, making a deep bow.
Aemond visibly relaxes. Briefly. Then he freezes. You take over.
“Thank you, Ser Eddard. You may leave the King and me. It has been an emotional day for us both.” You tell him kindly. Ser Eddard makes a bow again, heading your command.
“As you wish, my lady.”
A cold voice calls him back.
“Your grace.” Eddard freezes, aware of this grave mistake.
You smile, waving the problem away. But Aemond is not so easy to forgive.
“Her title is your Grace.” He reminds Eddard. “Apolgize to her.” You find that a bit silly but accept that Aemond is in one of his moods.
Eddard kneels, deeply and places his hands on his heart.
“I am sorry, my Queen.” He says and you know he is full of regret and fear.
“Rise, ser Eddard. My King and protector only wants what is best for me and the realm.”
“Of course, your Grace. My King, my Queen. If that is all you both require I shall take my leave. Apologies again, your Grace. It was a slip of the tongue.”
You wait for Eddard to leave and for the door to have closed. “You are on edge. What is the matter? Daemon is with the fishes, his brats were murdered and your annoying nephew,” you slowly caress his face, feeling every imperfection. “-Has been used for target practice. Your sister's corpse had been destroyed and so has her legacy. You have won. Yet you seem only to sulk.” You say to your husband.
Aemond is silent for some time. He stares at the embers dancing in the fireplace.
“I lost my brothers and my sister.” The words make your stomach turn. He does not look at you. You hear him softly hiss and join him by the fire, reaching for his hands.
“Aemond-”
He doesn’t stop there. “My own mother sold me out to the enemy. Aegon died in my stead. Daemon was counting on me to show up.”
Somehow he has the idea that he is the villain for getting Aegon killed and not Daemon, the actual killer. It is silly and foolish. Daemon killed Aegon. Daemon is to blame. “You were busy.” You tell him, knowing he did all he could.
His eye meets yours.
Your smile drops, as do your eyes as you finally understand.
You understand.
At long last.
Why he avoided you.
Why he wrote that letter.
When Daemon faced Aegon at godseye, the battle that killed them both, Aemond was supposed to be lured. But he could not be, for he was with you. He blames himself. He might even blame you. If not for you, Aemond would be dead. “Even my sister was so sure I was supposed to die at Godseye.” His sister. You never believed in her prophecies. You urge him to do the same.
Helaena was a young woman forced to have her brother’s twins in a marriage and was the target of a civil war. “Queen Helaena was not well.” You whisper gently. “She saw and endured much. Tales reached me too. Tales she saw her own children get murdered.”
There’s a grumpy sniff that betrays that he is crying. “That's another fault of my making. Daemon sent them to look for me. But I was gone.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. Daemon’s fault, once again. You never had the displeasure of meeting the man, but you sure become more grateful for that every time you learn something new.
You huff. “Sounds to me like the grown man sending assassins after children should be blamed. Daemon would've been a shit King. Do you think he'd be kind to me?” You say as a example.
Aemond agrees, but decides to jest. “He likes them young.” Is his reply with a chuckle.
Disgusted, you frown and hit his arm. He captures your arm, looking at you with more desire than before. “Isn't he almost like your father's age?” You remark.
You both chuckle. “Its our wedding night.” He says but not very joyfully. “I dreamt of this night for months to call you mine in daylight to have you parade around court and to kiss you publicly.” You dreamt of peace. You didn’t woke up today thinking you’d fall asleep in a castle. “Yet I cannot enjoy it. The war might have passed. I fear another is looming.” He is no fool. No matter how much they all wanted him to be. You sense it too. On the horizon. Whether they are vultures from outside or inside the kingdoms, traitors and villains will remain. Aemond will face many challenges as King.
You must help him through it. Because there is something sad about power. Now that you tasted a spoonful, you cannot wait to devour it fully. “How? All of Rhaenyra’s and Aegon's children passed. The crown is yours.” You tell him.
Aemond nods, to the window, where the city sleeps far away. “The small folk had forgotten what terror the dragons can bring. They just have been reminded.” So you fear as well. You allow him to hold you when he reaches out for your touch, and later you join him to perform your marriage duties to the King. It is desperate. It is in some ways not unlike the secret meetings in the brothel. It is just as that, his tongue down your cunt as you cry out for more, and his hands holding you down as he slams inside of you time and time again. Except this time you are allowed to make noise and to have him the way you never had anything. You do so, forcing your arms around his neck as you welcome him, crying out his name and begging him for more than you can handle. Aemond’s stamina is great after the war but even his is tested when you keep begging for more and more. Your cries echo through the keep as you finally manage to finish, a satisfied smirk on your lips. Aemond follows soon after, making sure he is inside of you when he does finish with a brute warcry. He rolls off you, kissing your lips to make sure you know you are loved. ‘’Whatever the war brings, whatever the future brings. I want to spend it with you. I would rather lose you then not have you at all.’’ He says. You agree and kiss him back to prove your devotion. You are the last one to fall asleep that night. Aemond snores as you crawl against his right side, and you just close your eyes.
The battle may be won. But the war is far from over.
A/N
This took so long because i was really busy and im sorry but i hope its what you wanted nonnie :)
