Eraena

Open to request but I can't promise anything <3

[eraenaa]

Masterlist

Related Blogs: @romanteacism - All things Aemond Targaryen @rafeacs - All things Rafe Cameron

Cheat Sheet:

🏙️ - Modern AU

🐉 - Fire and Blood AU

🏛️ - Greek Mythology AU

🤍 - Personal Fave

👑 - Popular

Aemond Targaryen

U.N.I. Aemond Targaryen X Reader 🏙️ Synopsis: Where one of the sons of your mother’s estranged best friend attends the same university as you, and did I mention you were the reason why he lost his eye? 

From The Underworld and Beneath Aemond Targaryen x Reader 🏛️ 🤍 Synopsis: You, the Goddess of Spring, were captured by the King of the Underworld, who was intent on keeping you there.

My Knight in Darkened Armor Knight Aemond Targaryen x Princess Reader 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: Ser Aemond Targaryen has been tasked to be the sworn protector of a princess who is overly curious about life beyond the castle walls and has bribed him to escort her to the city in exchange for anything he desires. She just did not know that what he desired was her.

A Bastard's Bride, A Dragon's Desire Aemond Targaryen x Princess Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: They have betrothed you to Jacaerys as a way of securing a line to the throne if they fail in usurping your half-sister’s crown. Your older brother Aemond was livid at the decision.

Flipped Aemond Targaryen X Reader 🏙️ 🤍 Synopsis: You had been infatuated with Aemond since you two were children. You could not remember a day when you did not feel anything but adoration for him— not until recently. When something in you turned indifferent, it did not go unnoticed by Aemond, who had never been a fan of change. 

Stereotypical Aemond, Son of Ares x Reader, Daughter of Aphrodite 🏛️ Synopsis: The daughter of Aphrodite falls for one of the sons of Ares— the second coming of their parents. 

One More Night Aemond Targaryen X Reader 🏙️ Synopsis: You were quick to leave after a one night stand, leaving Aemond dissatisfied, for he wanted so much more. When he found you again, he was sure to never let you go. 

The Prince and the Poet Aemond Targaryen X Lannister Reader 🐉 Synopsis: It is established that Prince Aemond hates poems and sonnets; it was just a pity that you adored them. 

Jealousy, Jealousy Aemond, Son of Ares x Reader, Daughter of Aphrodite 🏛️ Synopsis: It’s frustratingly hard to keep admirers and doubts away when you and your partner are the most attractive and powerful Demi-Gods in camp.

Most Ardently Aemond Targaryen X Tyrell Reader 🐉 Synopsis: Prince Aemond Targaryen had accompanied his younger brother to Highgarden in hopes of securing Daeron a wife— he did not expect he would want to secure a wife for himself as well. 

The Prince's Prize Aemond Targaryen X Riverlady Reader 🐉 Synopsis: After his victories in the Riverlands, Prince Aemond Targaryen sought for a trophy— his spoils of war. He sought for you, the daughter of the lord who hosted him whilst he wagged his war.

But Daddy, I Love Him Aemond Targaryen X Niece Reader 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: When the favored daughter of Daemon Targaryen falls for the favored son of Alicent Hightower, the Rogue Prince does everything he can to ensure that a union between the two of you will never happen. 

Gold Rush Aemond Targaryen X Lannister Reader 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: Everybody wants you, and I don’t like a gold rush.

Desperate Requirement Slytherin Aemond Targaryen x Reader 🏙️ Synopsis: It’s hard being horny at Hogwarts. Luckily, you and Aemond always found a way to relieve your needs.

Mine Aemond Targaryen x Wife Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: You are the best thing that has ever been Aemond’s, which is why you cannot really blame him for being so possessive and cautious not to lose you. 

Loathe to Love Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: Seeking forgiveness is not a thing Aemond bothers himself with, but that quickly changes when he deeply offended you.

King of My Heart King Aemond Targaryen x Queen Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: Marriage, miscarriage, and the monarchy… how would you and your husband fare to them all?

Bound By Blood Aemond Targaryen x Princess Reader 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: They can no longer hinder Aemond from taking whatever he wants, and you are the only one he desperately wants. 

Tea Party Aemond Targaryen x Stark Reader 🌃 Synopsis: Aemond convinces you to let Helaena join your group’s exclusive tea party, using any means necessary just for you to agree. 

Please Please Please Aemond Targaryen X Lannister Reader 🌃Synopsis: Heartbreak is one thing; my ego’s another. I beg you, don't embarrass me, motherfucker.

Unexpected Affections Aemond Targaryen X Tyrell Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: With just a smile, you had managed to bewitch and enthrall the stoic and cold prince. 

Blessed Curse Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: When a marriage between you and Aemond was arranged and forced by your grandsire, conflicting emotions arise, but which one will loom greater? Loathing or Love?

Parting Gift Aemond Targaryen X Reader x Aegon Targaryen 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: Aegon asks for a parting gift from his younger brother and his beloved wife: One night with you in exchange for the throne. 

Silent Passions Aemond Targaryen X Tyrell Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: You and Aemond had been promised to one another before you were even born. And when the time came for you to meet, all were curious to see what was to come when soon to be spouses only shared one thing in common: your want of silence. 

Virginal Whore Aemond Targaryen X Celtigar Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: Prince Aemond sets out to find a whore to warm his bed; he finds a virgin instead. 

Worth The Price Aemond Targaryen X Lannister Reader 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: Aemond does everything to prove that he is worthy of you— even if it means that he would be a kinslayer twice.

Twin Flame Aemond Targaryen X Twin Reader 🐉 Synopsis: Anywhere that you are, that I’d be. Following Aemond to the Riverlands against your better judgment and sensibilities because you knew all too well you could never be apart from your twin.

Prince's Whore Aemond Targaryen X Celtigar Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: What proceeded as Prince Aemond had made you his whore. 

Chosen Whore Aemond Targaryen X Celtigar Reader 🐉 👑 Synopsis: Whore or More?

Impatient and Desperate Aemond Targaryen X Clingy Lannister Reader 🐉 🤍 Synopsis: How you and your husband fare at court when both of you were constantly impatient and desperate for one another.

Need Aemond Targaryen x Niece Reader 🐉 Synopsis: For years, you and Aemond had a rather complicated relationship. But during your brother's trial and stay in the capitol, you both finally confess that you needed each other desperately.

Neglected Promises Aemond Targaryen X Clingy Lannister Reader 🐉 Synopsis: It would seem that after three years of marriage, Aemond had begun to neglect his wife and the promises he told her.

Yielded Devotion Aemond Targaryen X Clingy Lannister Reader 🐉 Synopsis: King Aemond Targaryen would rather forsake the crown, court, and his dragon rather than face the anger and contempt of his beloved queen. But when her craving for his love and attention turns unpredictable, he finds himself tested in more ways than one.

Satisfied Aemond Targaryen x Princess Reader 🐉 Synopsis: Your brother had left you unsatisfied. When you tried to find satisfaction in your new knight, Aemond was quick to finally see your satisfaction through.

Damned Desires Aemond Targaryen x Sister Reader 🐉 Synopsis: As the war had ended, Aemond made certain that his damned desires for his sister should never once again be denied.

Just Like Heaven Aemond Targaryen x Lady Reader 🐉 Synopsis: In his last moments, the only thing Aemond could think of was you— the only one he believed to feel just like heaven. 

Drop Dead Aemond Targaryen x Lady Reader 🐉 Synopsis: A Tyrell and a Targaryen, but I do believe they go quite nice together.

Primae Noctis Aemond Targaryen x Lady Reader 🐉 🤍 Synopsis: To be king means you are gifted with the power to take all you want. King Aemond the Absolute now had the power to take you.

The Cure Aemond Targaryen x Lady Reader 🐉 🤍 Synopsis: You thought that a marriage between you and Aemond would quell the threats of war, but with each day of your marriage, you realized that even your love could never be the cure.

Aegon Targaryen

Trouble Maker, Stress Reliever Aegon Targaryen X Reader 🏙️ Synopsis: You’re a prefect tasked with taming Aegon’s unruly behavior. Strained by your task, he offers you a way to relieve the stress he caused.

Parting Gift Aemond Targaryen X Reader x Aegon Targaryen 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: Aegon asks for a parting gift from his younger brother and his beloved wife: One night with you in exchange for the throne. 

Aerion Targaryen

A Dragon and a Lioness Aerion Targaryen X Lannister Reader 🐉 🤍 👑 Synopsis: Dragons and lions are temperamental creatures, especially the pretty ones. What happens then if they shall ever cross paths? Who shall yield first, the beast that roams the skies or the one who prances upon the earth?

Burning Desire Aerion Targaryen X Lannister Reader 🐉 Synopsis: After your acquaintance with the prince in the meadowy fields of Ashford, you left him with a burning desire to see you once more. Now, how shall a dragon fare when in the den of lions?

A Dragon's Companion Aerion Targaryen X Lannister Reader 🐉 Synopsis: Only a lion can tame a dragon, and only a lion could be a dragon's companion. It was only unfortunate that it took being exiled before the prince came to such realizations. But as he returned to Westeros, he knew that he could not let his lioness roam free. 

My Brother's Betrothed Aerion Targaryen X Lannister Reader 🐉 Synopsis: As a second son, Prince Aerion had always been regarded as second best. He was given the remnants of what was meant for others. But when a bride of Old Valyria was brought to wed his drunken brother, Aerion decided he would no longer accept what was left behind— he would claim what should have been his all along.

Feyd Rautha Harkonnen

Birthday Present Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader 🤍 👑 Synopsis: During a state visit, you, a daughter of one of the great houses, have captured the attention and fatal attraction of the Na-Baron and were quickly turned into his promised wife. 

Bittersweet Feyd-Rautha x Lady Reader 👑 Synopsis: As the Na-Baron's proposed bride, you were simply too sweet for him and his bitter being. You were too innocent and pure to be tainted by the blood-stained hands of the Harkonnen heir.

Rafe Cameron

Casual Rafe Cameron x Reader Synopsis: You would settle for causality as long as you had Rafe by your side. 

Still Casual? Rafe Cameron x Reader Synopsis: You promised yourself that you’re never going to settle for casual ever again— promised yourself you would never be another casualty of Rafe Cameron. 

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) Rafe Cameron x Reader 👑 Synopsis: Trust me, I can handle me a dangerous man.

Imgonnagetyouback Rafe Cameron x Reader 🤍👑 Synopsis: The plan is clear. Get Rafe back after your breakup. 

So High School Rafe Cameron x Reader 🤍 Synopsis: He knows how to ball, you know Aristotle

Please, Please, Please (Rafe's Edition) Rafe Cameron x Reader 👑 Synopsis: Being with Rafe, a notorious hotheaded drug dealer, you knew others would question your relationship— especially your parents, who had never been fond of him. But when his habits had been too much to handle, you knew that you would prefer heartbreak to a broken ego. 

[eraenaa]

The Cure

Inspired by the song "The Cure" by Olivia Rodrigo

Aemond Targaryen x Niece Reader

Synopsis: You thought that a marriage between you and Aemond would quell the threats of war, but with each day of your marriage, you realized that even your love could never be the cure.

Warnings: Angst, Sad Reader, Soft Aemond, Comfort, Targcest, Mature, 18+

Word Count: 2,246

A/N: Quick fic for my girlies who are constantly plagued with a sadness they could never explain.

The laces of your wedding gown lay unraveled on the bedroom floor. The fresh morning sun filtered through the curtains, and your eyes followed the dust that gilded through the air, catching the sun rays. After a week of celebrations, three moons of preparations, five years of courtship, and seventeen years of hoping, you were finally wed to the only man that you’ve ever loved: Prince Aemond Targaryen. 

“Return to rest, wife.” You hear your husband mutter, voice different and deeper, and you could not help but smile. After years of hoping and praying to each god, they finally answered your prayers and wishes– they finally gave you Aemond. 

You hummed as you nestled yourself closer to him, your soft cheek resting against his toned chest, and you could not help but place a small, chaste kiss upon his skin. You hear your husband hum as he tangles his fingers in your dark brown locks. 

For a moment, there was silence. A deep, serene silence that you had sought for your entire life. You could never explain why or how, but even as a child, you felt this sense of unrest and emptiness that always seemed to loom over your happiness. 

For years, it frustrated you as you could not express why you felt such ugly emotions. It was not until the fateful and dreadful night in Driftmark that you realized why. Your family was being torn apart, and you and your brothers were the reason why. It was not until that night that you realized how truly different you and your brothers were from the rest of your family. In the dim light of your supposed grandsire’s keep, the difference between silver and bronze gleamed brightly. 

It was the night that solidified your family’s animosity against one another. It was the night when you swore to yourself that you would lay your life to find the anecdote for your family’s hate. Now, here you were, lying beside the person you thought would be the cure. 

When your husband’s eye was taken, it sealed your family’s fate. You spent restless nights in Dragonstone, wrapped in guilt and fear, even if your hands did not carve his scar. You spent your days writing to him. Sending scroll after scroll of apologies that meant nothing when it came from the wrong lips. You did not know why you did such things; all you knew was that you did not wish to leave things as they were.

And over time, your efforts bore fruit. When you and your kin returned to Kingslanding for the purpose of a trial over Driftmark, you met Aemond again. You were reunited with the boy who lost his eye at your brother’s hands. You were reunited with the prince who had left your apologies unanswered. You were reunited with the man you were to marry. 

Your fears dissipated when a connection formed between you, from stolen glances across the halls to lingering touches under the table, and even secret kisses underneath the scarlet leaves. When your husband announced his intent to court you, the royal house was in an uproar. Neither side was thrilled about the match– if anything, they had done much to ensure that a marriage between you did not commence. 

They tried to pawn both of you off on other houses. With Aemond being presented a Baratheon bride, and you were given a Northern Warden as your groom. Obviously, neither match worked out; however, it came from great personal expense. You exposed yourself to scandal and laid down your virtue just in hopes that you could be with Aemond. 

“Are you certain?” Aemond murmured against your skin, his head resting against the crook of your neck, and you could feel each breath he took and each movement his lips made. You swallowed thickly, looking down on the earth below. The two of you high in the clouds and mounted on his dragon– his strong arms around your waist, and his hands itching to inch downwards to your heated core. 

He sat behind you, your back resting against his solid chest, and you could feel his wanting and needing length. You nodded through fear and apprehension. You were not thinking clearly; all you wanted was him. “Make me yours.” 

You hear him make a sound that was close to a growl, but was soft like a whine when you said the words. His thin, punishing lips latched quickly to the side of your neck, sucking and soothing the sensitive spot. A wanton moan escaped your lips as his fingers found your womanhood and his hand reached for your neck. 

“You’ve been mine for a long time.” You tightly shut your eyes as your stomach fluttered the moment his dragon dipped past a cloud, and as his finger found your dripping core. Your hand instinctively gripped Aemond’s thigh, your heart beating erratically in your chest as Vhagar flew closer to the sun and flew you closer to your peak. 

He claimed your maidenhead in the heavens, and when you returned on land, Aemond proudly announced that you were to be his wife, leaving your kin mortified as they saw your blood-stained gown. It was only fortunate that they no longer plotted to separate the two of you. 

You stared at your husband as you two lay in bed. His eye peacefully closed while the other stared back at you with a sapphire gleam. You sighed, unable to help yourself as you cupped his cheek and traced the raised bump of his scar, your delicate touch making him hum. 

“Do you love me?” You could not help but whisper. It was a question meant to stay in the confines of your mind, yet it hung in the early morning air. You watched as Aemond slowly peeled his eye open. A soft, adoring look in his unique lilac eye that could have been an answer enough. “I married you, had I not? I went against all their orders and my duties… of course I do.” 

You gave a small smile as he placed a gentle kiss upon the tip of your nose. His lips trailing down to your lips, and you let out a delighted moan as he rested his weight atop you. He was warm and solid, his skin rough yet tender, and you wrapped your bare legs around his frame in hopes that you could feel more of him. 

You bit your lip as you felt the head of his length brushing against your sensitive heat. Aemond smirked and placed an open-mouthed kiss against your neck as you gasped when he burrowed himself deep inside your cunt. “Does this prove my love, little wife?” He hummed, and you arched your back as he brushed against the spot that had you a whimpering mess that almost fell atop a dragon before. 

You felt the inclination to nod– to moan out a yes, but a wicked, loathesome thought crossed your mind. The pleasure your husband, your Aemond, presented you with was borne out of practice. You tensed in his arms at the thought of him bedding whores, you felt your throat tighten, and tears threatened to spill as you tallied up the others he had lain with. He was your first, yet you could not claim the same. 

Aemond had his eye closed in pleasure, and you took that opportunity to flip yourself on your stomach, his thrust abruptly ceasing as he opened his eye and searched for your gaze. You burrowed your face on the plush mattress, hiding your tears as you raised your behind for his hips to meet. 

“My perfect wife.” You hear him groan against your ear, his fingers brushing away your brown locks so he could place chaste kisses upon your back. You battled with your tears and pleasure as you loathed yourself for letting melancholy find you even when tucked in your marital bed. 

You wished that it was the last instance; however, your head was filled with poison, and your heart was filled with doubt. No matter what you did, sadness crept its way into our being, and it only worsened with each day after you sealed your marriage. 

You breathed in a deep breath as you sat with your husband in your solarium. The afterglow of the sun bathed the room in an amber glow, and your eyes stared off into the rising moon. Aemond’s fingers mindlessly drew circles upon your thigh, where his appendage found its rightful place. 

Aemond relaxed in his chair, but he was quick to tense as he heard you hiss and he vividly saw blood dripping from your fingers. The embroidery hoop you held fell onto the ground the moment your blood landed against your light pink dress, the silk quickly soaking up the stain. 

Before you could even move, you watched through sudden tears as your husband took hold of your hand and raised your pricked finger to his lips, sucking away your lifeblood and momentarily masking the pain you felt as his tongue soothed your wound. 

“Ought to be careful, wife. You know how I do not like seeing you hurt.” Aemond hummed as he brushed away your tears with his thumb. You gave him a small smile as you nestled your cheek into his palm. His cold, calloused touch is more than welcome against your heated cheeks. 

You took a deep breath and watched as your husband dipped down and picked up the embroidery hoop by your feet, his hand never leaving yours as he did so. You heard him hum as he raised it closer to his eye, a small smile on his lips. Your gaze traveled to the figures you embroidered, a smaller version of the two of you that you wished to place on one of the pillows in your bedchambers. 

“My, the gods were kind as they bestowed me with such a gifted wife.” He said softly and placed a kiss on your once-wounded finger before returning his hand to rest on your thigh once more. 

A deep breath left your lips as you stared at the small image you stitched, wondering hard why you could not simply stitch shut the constant sadness and fear that seeped through your bloodstream. 

Some days, your sadness was far too much for you to contain, and even your husband took notice. He tried his best to learn the cause of your sadness, but how could he know when you yourself did not know why? 

“Have any of the courtiers upset you?” He asked softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You buried your face into your pillow and endured the twisting you felt in your stomach that never disappeared. You felt entirely retched to subject Aemond to your sudden fits of sadness.

“Was it my mother? Had she said something out of turn?” Your husband asked further, and you harshly bit your lip to prevent a sob. You wanted to push him away. To shut yourself in your chambers and let the inevitable sadness that plagues you pass. 

When you gave no answer, you hear Aemond sigh. You thought he’d leave, that he’d leave you alone, but he only settled himself by your side and lay with you until the tears ceased and night came. You hear his light snores and move to observe him peacefully resting after enduring your wretchedness. You nestled yourself into his chest again, letting him wrap his arms around your frame and letting the even beat of his heart lull you to sleep. Silently praying that the constant anguish you felt would fade. 

The gods ignored your prayers. If anything, it only worsened from that night on. The threat of impending war loomed over the land and your marriage. Tensions were running high. Sides that were formed long ago began to solidify the moment they announced your grandsire’s death. 

You saw it yourself how the seeds of hate had bloomed and flourished, and now both sides reaped the consequences. You felt foolish as you had thought that a marriage between your feuding families would at least beseech them to act rationally. You had foolishly thought that a marriage with Aemond– a Targaryen prince– a pawn for his grandsire’s ambition, would somehow heal the divide that carved through your family like a blade. Instead, it only deepened the wound.

“This is only momentary– their heads will cool, and we shall live in peace. Fret not, my wife.” You hear Aemond murmur against your skin as he holds you in his arms. How you wished for his words to be true, but the doubt that consumed you now manifested before your eyes. 

Tears spilled from your eyes. You knew Aemond loved you. He showed you that he loved you every day, even as war threatened your union. But you reeled in pain as you realized that even his love for you would never be enough. 

Your head kept spinning at the possibility that one day he’ll turn on you– that he’ll leave you because even if you were his wife, you're still a bastard. Even his devotion could not mend– could not stitch up the frayed truth of your birth. It no longer mattered how his love felt anymore. Your family’s hate and mistakes had festered so deeply that even your marriage– your love would never be the cure.

[eraenaa]

Primae Noctis (Right of the First Night)

King Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader

Synopsis: To be king means you are gifted with the power to take all you want. King Aemond the Absolute now had the power to take you.

Warnings: Abuse of Power, Mature, 18+, Targcest, Loss of Virginity, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F & M receiving), Praise Kink, ¿Manipulation?, Jacaerys being cuckolded

Word Count: 5,736

There are many benefits to being king. Power is the first that comes to mind. To have undisputed control not only over land but also over its citizens is a sensation like no other. For you to be worshiped and revered like a god is an honor bestowed upon only a few, and King Aemond Targaryen was fortunate enough to be one of them. 

As a secondborn son, he had only hoped to one day wear the conqueror’s upon his brow– but it was a fantasy. With his half-sister being named heir by the decaying king and his older brother having his own heir, Aemond knew that for him to be king meant the death of his kin. He had no plan to kill for the crown. But with each life taken, he inched closer to the iron throne that he could already feel the cool metal against his leather-clad body. 

As his brother abdicated his claim, his half-sister fell. Her faction quickly surrendered and pledged their fealty to him, Aemond One-eye, the reason why the dance of the dragons began. He relished seeing the once fierce, albeit idiotic, supporters of his half-sister kneel before him, declaring him their king. He had taken the most powerful seat in the realm with barely any bloodshed, a feat he thought rather impossible. 

Aemond the Absolute, he wishes to be called. A king who all yields to– that all agreed was suitable for the throne. He felt rather benevolent as he oversaw his once traitorous kin’s surrender. The blood of the dragon was scarce now; he’d rather not be the only dragon left in this world, and so, he was kind. He had let Rhaenyra’s remaining kin keep Dragonstone, leaving his nephews and niece their ancestral home. A reminder of what they had lost— and of what he had allowed them to keep.

He, on the other hand, had the Red Keep. The vast castle all to himself as his brother fled, and his sister was taken by her madness. Many times did the thought of offering his eldest nephew a seat in his council cross his mind– a risky, irrational thought, he believed, but a thought brought out by loneliness. To invite Jacaerys into his council means to invite a possible rebellion once more– he’d rather keep him in the desolate caves of Dragonstone. 

Aemond needed a wife. A companion. A person who could provide him with heirs and aid him in rebuilding his family. It was an easy enough task if it weren’t for his particularities. He was the blood of the dragon; anything less was insulting. But the blood of Old Valyria was scarce now; the only one truly left who had enough fire in their veins was you. The bastard daughter of the false queen. Your father may be strong, but your mother was Rhaenyra, you were dragon enough, Aemond supposed. 

However, a hurdle stood in his way– the same hurdle he faced even in childhood: Jacaerys, your twin brother. King Aemond must admit, he was ever so fond of you in your younger years. You were kind– sweet even. You always shared your cake. You always apologized in your brother’s wake. You always made Aemond feel sympathy for a bastard. 

He could recall your childhood so vividly that it brought a dull ache in his chest as he would constantly vie for your attention, but it was always placed on your twin. Your bond with Jacaerys was formed in the womb, and when you two came into the world, your mother was quick to form another bond by binding you to one another. 

Aemond had long known this, of course. But never was his younger self deterred, as he was your constant companion when your twin temporarily placed his favor upon Aegon. 

“I do not like when he and Luc are with Aegon– they become cruel,” You grumbled to Aemond as he sat with you in the gardens, a plate of cake between you, crumbs on both your lips. “Earlier this morning, he would not stop pulling at my hair!” You added, and Aemond hummed as he stared upon your crumpled face, your dark brows in a furrow, and your braided hair fraying, and bore the truth of your words. 

“Perhaps you shall tell your mother,” Aemond suggested as he reached forward to wipe away the icing on your plump and rosy cheek. “If he is cruel now, what more when you two are married?” He added and saw as clear fear flashed in your mud colored eyes. “And you’ve seen how my brother is– Jacaerys seems to worship the ground Aegon walks on. It would not take long before he becomes like him,” Aemond further stated, sewing the seeds of doubt so delicately that even he almost believed it was concern.

“He would not dare!” You exclaimed in fear, looking upon Aemond, who held a stoic expression. “A prince should never pull upon a lady's hair– especially not a princess,” He said, reaching forward to pull at the ribbon that held your braids, letting your hair cascade down your back and running his finger through the silky strands. “A husband must be gentle, niece,” He hummed. Aemond remembered your innocent eyes then. You were nine, and he was only a couple of years your senior, but he was already clever enough to reach for what he wanted— you. 

He was persistent– more persistent than he would care to admit. But he could not explain why, but he wanted you, even if you were a bastard. It did not matter much to him that you were a Strong, but when it came to your brothers, he was rather merciless. He tried to be subtle with his fondness for you, but subtlety becomes rather obvious when he truly abhorred your brothers. 

“I do not understand,” Aemond remembered as you cried to him under the scarlet leaves of the Godswood tree, the silver light of the moon setting you aglow, making your tears iridescent like pearls streaming down your face. You were six and ten– your family had finally returned after your informal banishment to Dragonstone, a trial as to who shall be heir to Driftmark, the reason why you had found your way back to him. 

“He had been bound to me since we were born– he was supposed to offer his fealty– his loyalty– but the moment we returned here, he desecrated it to lie with… with a common whore!” You wailed, and Aemond bit back his smile. Do not mistake his intentions. He did not revel in your sadness; he reveled in the fact that it was Jacaerys who had brought it. 

“I had tried to warn you ever since we were children, niece.” He hummed as he took his place next to you, resting his back upon the greyish trunk of the ancient tree. “You should have been rid of him years before.” Aemond added as he let your shoulders brush with each sob you made. “I cannot be rid of him– he… he is my other half– my twin.” Aemond hummed as you tried to explain the obvious. He badly wanted to say that just because you two had shared a womb did not mean you were destined to share a fate.

“Yet he chooses to lie with a whore. He had you by his side, yet he still willingly chose another. Do not be a fool for him, ñuha ōños.” Aemond murmured as he retrieved his handkerchief to wipe away your tears. He could never explain why he was so kind and gentle towards you. Perhaps because you were the same to him. He remembered how his heart skipped a beat as he first saw you again. You found him in the tiltyard, a wide smile on your lips as he met your eyes. A confession that you had long missed his company on your lips. 

“But I love him,” You confessed, uncaring that you were bold in your admittance. Ameond had always been your shoulder to cry on whenever you found trouble and strife with your twin. You did not know why you confided in your uncle, who had much animosity for your brothers, but there you were, crying in his arms. “But does he love you enough?” Aemond hummed as he relished the warmth he felt as he had you in his hold. 

“He is half of me– if he does not love me most, then who else will?” You remembered whispering in dread. “How are you so certain that it is love?” Aemond questioned lowly, tucking a stray strand of your hair. “Perhaps you are under the wrong impression… just because he is your twin and he had been betrothed to you does not mean you ought to love him– it does not mean he loves you.” Aemond was a cruel man. He knew then that there was no line he would not cross to take what he wished. 

Aemond wanted to sigh as you looked upon him with your gleaming brown eyes, your lips pink and swollen. “Such ungrateful men are not worthy of a princess… You wait for him– ready to offer your all, yet he…” Aemond pursed his lips in feigned thought, relishing how you clung to his arm and words. “...I cannot even bear to utter it, ñuha ōños. It could amount to treason,” He murmured lowly, his face drawing closer to yours as your eyelids flutter, and he could practically see how your mind started to give in to his words. 

He claimed your lips that night. Your lips were so soft and sweet that Aemond felt drunk. He cupped your face, your cheeks wet with tears yet warm against his cold, calloused touch. You whimpered against his mouth, his thin lips punishing as he deepened your kiss– his tongue shameless as it brushed against yours. 

Aemond grunted almost in pain as you suddenly backed away. His hazy eyes boring into your widened ones, regret etched plainly on your comely face. “I… this was a mistake,” Aemond raged every time he recalled your words and how you hastily ran from him after he had taken your first kiss and how he had given you his. He had never seen you since, and it took two years to pass before he could place his lilac eye upon you once more. And it was all because he was expected to attend your wedding ceremonies. 

He was king. He could have taken all that he wished without apology– he could have taken you as his bride instead. However, his council had advised him that to do such a thing would invite another rebellion. You had been bound to Jacaerys since you were in the womb– even the kingdom believed that you two were meant for one another. 

For him to break your betrothal and covet his nephew’s betrothed– his niece– could jeopardize his station. He had sacrificed much to be king, and as fond as he was of you and how he wished nothing more for you to be his queen, it was not enough for Aemond to relinquish the throne that he had killed for. For a moment, he tried to come to terms with the thought that it was only your lips he could claim, but he was quick to be rid of such thoughts as he remembered that he was king. 

He was king, and he had a right to all in his realm– he had the right of the first night. Primae Noctis, he remembered the maester uttering to his nephew, the copper prince, unmoving as he was told that his king wished to lie with his wife. That Aemond wished to take her maidenhead, her virtue that she had guarded for her husband. “He cannot– she is my wife,” Jacaerys gritted as he pushed away a maester to meet his uncle’s eye. 

“And I am king. I have the right, nephew.” Aemond smirked as his eye flickered towards you, surrounded by your guests who congratulated you on your marriage, completely clueless that you would be meeting him in your marital chambers instead of your husband. 

Aemond sighed as he sensed his nephew readying to draw out his sword, and he quickly waved for his guards to restrain the groom before he could cause a scene. “It is only for one night, nephew. You have the rest of your life to mount your wife– do not be so easily threatened.” Aemond sighed, amusement evident in his eye that would often flicker to your frame across the room. “Besides, it is only fair, do you not think?” Aemond hummed as he poured himself more wine, his blood intoxicated with adrenaline at the thought of taking you that night– an action that he had fantasized many years before. 

He glanced at the redened, confused expression of his nephew. “Your first time was wasted on some whore– surely you cannot think that you shall be the first to lie with her when she cannot say the same about you,” Aemond hummed. “She is my wife, mine!” Jacerys roared once more, and Aemond rolled his eye. “I am bedding her, not wedding.” He sighed as he was growing ever more impatient.

“But if you do not like the thought of your wife lying with her king, just say the word, and we can quickly annul your matrimony. You have every right to do so… you had not even lain with each other,” He continued to tease, hoping that his nephew would agree with his proposition. A rather idiotic idea when one thinks of it– but Aemond hoped that his nephew was indeed idiotic enough to agree. 

He looked upon Jacaerys’s seething face, his jaw in a solid grit as his plain eyes glanced towards you, who were completely clueless about what was to come. “One night– as king, you only have one night with my wife.” Jacaerys gritted as he accepted defeat. He and his twin were lucky enough to escape war unscathed– and the reason for that was only because Aemond had ordered his faction to never lay a hand upon you lest they wish to be his dragon’s meal. 

The then prince’s protection was only extended towards you, but your love for your twin had included him, claiming that if Jacaerys was harmed, gods forbid slain, you would soon follow him. He had been with you in life, so be it with death as well. 

Aemond hummed triumphantly, a devious smirk on his thin lips. “It would seem I stand here corrected, you do have your wits about you, nephew– perhaps I shall think twice next time I doubt your sensibilities,” Aemond smiled, the scene unnerving for the prince as a true smile of happines over came their king’s face, and it was all because he would have you for the night. 

“Now, if you would excuse me– I believe there is a bedding ceremony I must attend to,” Aemond said wickedly as he sauntered out of the great hall and made his way to your marital chambers. 

It was near the hour of the ghost when you had noticed that you had not seen your husband in the past half-hour. You travelled your eyes upon the room, his absence noted, and you blushed at the thought that he perhaps had retired in your chambers, waiting for you. Waiting to seal your marriage with the sacred act between husband and wife.

You drew in a deep breath as you slipped out of the great hall yourself, your hands cold with anticipation. When you reached the doors of your marital chambers, you steadied yourself for what was to come. For years, Jacaerys had failed to keep secret his illicit affairs– he failed to resist the temptation of bedding whores. 

For years, you blamed yourself– you believed he only did such actions because you refused him your bed without the certainty of marriage. But now, you were bound to him in the eyes of gods and men– perhaps his past behavior shall finally cease, you hoped. You were his wife– you had given him your heart and soul years before, and now, he shall as well claim your body. Surely a whore would no longer suffice for him after you had given him your all. 

When you pushed open the door of your chambers, it was aglow with the fire of the hearth, and you felt your heartbeat in the tip of your ears as you cautiously walked in. Your eyes were on the bed as you entered, and the pristine white sheets lay untouched. You cast your eyes then upon the seating area, expecting your husband to be waiting for you, but all you saw was your king seated near the fire with a chalice in his hands. 

“Aem– Your majesty… I–” You stuttered, confused. You hastily curtsied before him with your head bowed low, and when you straightened your stance, he was quick to rise and make his way before you. “What are you doing here, my king?” You asked, breathless, your gaze glancing towards the ajar door behind you, but Aemond was quick to reach forward and rest his palm against the solid wood, closing the door and trapping you between it and him. 

“It is just us, nuha oños, no need for formalities,” he murmured lowly, his face incredibly close to you that you could smell the wine on his lips. “Where… where is my husband?” You asked, a slight tremble in your voice as his lilac eye bore into yours. Aemond only hummed, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ears instead of answering your question. 

He felt you back yourself further against the door, a sigh leaving his lips. “Who am I?” He instead questioned, watching as confusion overcame your eyes before weariness took over them once more. “A simple question, niece, who am I?” He asked once more. 

“You’re… you’re Aemond.” You said innocently, and he drew in a deep breath as he loved hearing his name uttered by your lips. “Mm… to you, I am your Aemond… but to the others? Who am I to them?” 

“King, you are their king,” You answered and held your breath as he leaned closer. “Indeed, I am.” Aemond smiled and backed away only an inch as he noticed how you held your breath. He’d rather not have you faint before he could claim you. 

“And I must admit, as king, there are… privileges and pleasures that are bestowed upon me,” He clarified, but that did nothing to aid the questioning look etched into your face. “Have you perhaps heard the term primae noctis?” Aemond watched as you froze as he uttered the words, your enchanting eyes wide in realization. “The right of first night…” You whispered in shock, Aemond smirking as his fingers reached to twirl your hair that cascaded over your shoulder. “So knowledgeable… the maesters had to explain it to your husband thrice… you would have made the most capable queen,” Aemond could not help but murmur. 

“Now, do I still need to explain my presence, princess?” He hummed as he boldly placed a soft kiss against your temple, hearing as you took in a sharp breath as his lips met your skin. “But… but I am married,” He heard you whimper, and he retreated back just to see the turmoil in your eyes. You were in doubt. Good, he thought. If you were in doubt, then it meant a part of you wished for it as much as he. 

“I am quite aware,” He said bitterly. “But that is no hindrance,” He added, and bereft you of another moment to think before capturing your lips. His arm circled your waist while his hand rested between the curve of your neck and shoulder, steadying you and leaving no room for you to pull away. He felt your plush lips stagger, just as they did during your first kiss, but it was quick to dissolve as he felt you circled your arms around his neck. 

Aemond smirked against your lips as he felt you pull him closer. My, if this was how you acted after your marriage, he would have happily walked you down the aisle if it meant you clinging to him. You gasped for breath when Ameond finally parted your lips. You whimpered once more as you felt his punishing lips against your neck, his hand trailing down and grasping your tit with such a gentle force that you could not help but moan. 

“How… how are you so cavalier in taking my virtue that I had saved for my… my husband?” You asked breathlessly, your hand grasping the nape of Aemond’s neck as he peppered kisses on your skin. “Because you were meant to be mine,” Aemond said simply as he reached down to trail his hand against your leg, inching higher until he heard another gasp leave your lips as he cupped your womanhood. 

“Besides, I do not like leaving things unfinished… I have your first kiss, it is only right I take your first time as well.” Aemond breathed against your lips before capturing them once more. A wanton sound coming from you echoed through the room as you felt his tongue invade you and as his fingers drew circles on your cunt against your small clothes. 

You shivered as his lips trailed down to your bosom, his eye looking up as he forcefully yanked down the neckline of your wedding gown, the sound of it ripping music to his ears; he had half the mind to throw it into the fire later on. He did not wish to be reminded of the dress you wore as you bound yourself to another. 

“You are all mine tonight, my light…” Aemond moaned as he captured the taut bud of your mound, the taste of salt and sweetness dancing on his tongue. “...perhaps even after,” He hummed and nipped the bud of your breast as a strangled noise left your lips, and you clung to him even further. You reached to cup his face, guiding him to meet your lips again. You’ve never kissed Jacaerys, not even during your ceremonies– each intimate touch and action you had done was with Aemond. 

Your mind was in turmoil with each move of your lips, with each touch you exchanged. Jacaerys was supposed to be your other half– he was the one meant for you. Yet, here you were, melting into the hands of the king, your Aemond. You shuddered at the thought, and as you felt his finger enter your cunt. “Tell me you’re mine,” Aemond breathed out, voice holding a tone of desperation. You looked upon him with wide eyes. “Please, ñuha ōños… just for tonight, tell me you’re mine,” Aemond begged, uncaring that a king pleaded to a married woman as such.

You drew in a deep breath, wanting to deny him, but as you saw the sincerity in his eye, his eye that had always looked at you as if you were the only person in the world, you obliged. “I’m yours, Aemond… all yours,” You said softly, and you would think his pleading gaze would soften, but you felt a trickle of fear as his lilac eye darkened with sheer possessiveness that it made a chill run down your spine. 

You felt dazed as he moved you from the door and tossed you into the bed, wasting no time to mount you and keep your body trapped against his. “He does not deserve you… you have always been meant for me,” Aemond growled as he ripped apart your dress, leaving you in your shift. You whimpered and reached for the buttons of his tunic, unable to bear the wetness that gathered between your legs. 

Aemond shivered as you successfully removed his tunic, your soft hands roaming his chest, letting your skin finally touch his. He could have come undone at how your hands tightened on his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he ripped your shift away. Aemond marveled at your naked frame, biting back his smirk as you squirmed beneath him, your arms instinctively moving to cover yourself, but in one swift motion, he had both of your wrists in his grasp, hindering you. 

“You are a goddess among men,” He said lowly, sincerity dripping in his voice and clear in his eyes. Aemond dipped down to capture your lips once more, letting your hands free to circle his frame. You closed your eyes tightly and dug your nails into his back as his fingers roamed your body, one of them grasping your tit and pinching the bud while the other rested steadily on the curve of your waist. 

“Aemond,” You whimpered as you parted your lips, “I…” you trailed, unable to utter what you desperately needed. He looked deeply into your eyes, his lilac orb imploring you to use your words– to tell him what you wished for. “Come now, my light… we only have tonight, no need to be so coy,” He murmured and placed a chaste kiss between the valley of your breasts before meeting your eye once more. 

“I… I want…” You say breathlessly, squirming in unbearable need beneath him. “Yes? What do you want? You shall have everything you want just as long as you say the word,” Aemond said lowly, determined for you to word out what you wished. “You! I… I want you!” You finally relented, and you held your breath as he looked at you with a blank expression– your cheeks heating in embarrassment, but it was quick to fade when a genuine smile overcame his lips. The same carefree smile he had when you two were children, long before his eye was taken from him. 

You licked your lips as you felt your heart skip a beat with each moment he smiled upon you and how his lips inched closer. “Finally, you admitted it,” he said in satisfaction before kissing you until you saw stars. 

You were dazed as you felt his lips against yours once more, your confession somehow making the kiss you two shared taste sweeter. You sighed as his kisses went downwards, from your neck, leaving his mark. To your mounds, placing a wet kiss on each. But as he reached further down your navel, you gasped and tried to push him away, but his strong arms pinned you down. “I thought you had wanted me, my light?” he then hummed as he looked up, his breath fanning your womanhood, and you squirmed further. “I… I do, but–” 

“Then you shall have me… starting with my lips,” he smirked, and your eyes rolled back as you feel his lips meet your cunny. “A–Aemond,” You moaned as you fisted his hair, your breath shallow as his punishing lips were relentless with their kisses upon your womanhood. Aemond smirked against your cunt, intoxicated with the taste of you. 

He felt your thighs circle his head, the plush flesh soft against his cheeks. “Oh gods,” You cried as you felt his tongue upon your entrance, “Aemond, please… I–” You said incoherently, a sheen of sweat overcoming your body as you writhed against his angular face. He held your thighs tightly, his grip intent to leave his mark. “What do you want, my light?” He hummed, voice muffled as he quickly returned his lips against your cunt, his tongue teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“I don’t know– just– please,” You cried, and Aemond focused all of his attention on the pearl of your cunt, his lips sucking upon it, his tongue darting out to lick it, and letting out a low reverberating moan that made you cry out in utter pleasure as you came undone. 

You panted as your back arched, Aemond moving once more to meet your eye and witness the state you were in. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair clung to your glistening skin, and your eyes were still shut as you came down from your high. 

Aemond took the moment to be rid of his breeches, and the moment he was, your eyes finally peeled open. You swallowed thickly as you saw his hardened length, the tip of it pink– almost red in anticipation. You drew in a breath as your gaze flickered to his eye, a teasing glint upon the lilac orbs. “Could… could I try something?” You suddenly asked, watching as Aemond’s brow raised in question as you sat up. He was kneeling upon the bed, and you copied his position. 

“And what would that be?” he hummed as you inched closer to him. You could not word it out, a bit ashamed, and so you instead lowered yourself until you were faced with his manhood. Aemond watched in great anticipation as you looked up at him with hesitancy, your lips already parted. 

“Hinder me if… if I do it incorrectly,” you whispered as you took him in your hands before closing your lips around the tip of his length. Aemond let out a deep groan, in disbelief of your actions. You were hesitant with each movement, and Aemond relished it, knowing that he would be the first to have you in such a way.

“Fuck,” He moaned as you took him deeper in your mouth, your teeth gently grazing his skin, and he felt as if he were in heaven. He did enjoy it when his pleasure had a touch of pain. As you heard him utter the words, you quickly retreated, fearing you had done something wrong. But he was quick to shake his head and reassure you that you were doing splendidly. You nodded and continued, blushing each time a grunt or moan left his lips. 

When you had taken every inch of him, and you felt his tip hit the back of your throat, you held your breath as he pulled at the roots of your hair, curses leaving his lips before he abruptly pulled out his length. You stared at him through glassy eyes, a trickle of fear within you once again, but he quickly shook his head again and placed kisses upon your cheeks as he muttered on how perfect you were, on how you were a divine gift from the gods. You blushed at each of his compliments, unaccustomed to it, as your husband was never one to give such praises. 

“Will it hurt?” You asked through wide eyes as you felt Aemond run the tip of his length along your glistening folds. “Yes, but only for a moment,” He hummed and placed a kiss upon your brow, the action so intimate that you could not help but believe for a moment, he was your husband and not simply your king who decided to invoke his right of the first night. 

“Tell me the moment… the moment the pain becomes unbearable,” Aemond muttered through gritted teeth as he positioned himself to take you. He watched as you bit your lip, your hands grasping at his arms tightly. Aemond bit his own lip as he felt your plush walls around his length, your eyes pooling with tears as your whimpers reached his ears. “You’re doing so well, my light… so perfect you are,” Aemond moaned as his hips moved lightly against yours. 

He relished how you clenched even further whenever a deserved compliment towards you left his lips, your body writhing slowly against his, your peaked mounds brushing against his chest. “Such a beauty you are, my princess,” Aemond continued to praise and bit back his smirk as you let out a moan, the pain of your maidenhead being taken finally subsiding. “More, Aemond…please,” You sighed as you reached forward to cup his cheek, your thumb delicately tracing his scar. 

Your king hummed, obliging your request as he finally sheathed himself fully in your cunny, your back arching as he did. He felt your fingers inching closer to the leather strap of his eye patch. “Can I–” you cut yourself off, fearing you shall offend him, but Aemond gave you a curt nod as the tip of his length brushed against a spot in you that made you let out a cry of pleasure. 

You removed the cover of his eye hesitantly, your breath catching in your throat as you saw a glistening sapphire in place of his stolen eye. “I did it for you,” Aemond breathed out, his thrust slow yet deep. You moaned as he reached between the two of you and drew circles upon your cunny, his words starting to grow incoherent. 

“You’ve always loved wearing blue– a strong blue… a sapphire is the closest color that could compare.” Aemond sighed as you pulled him closer to you, your bodies flushed, and felt each movement and breath the two of you made. 

“Faster, Aemond… please, I– I need more,” You cried, unable to fully understand his gesture. Aemond let out a breath of a laugh, placing a kiss on your neck before obliging once more, his head spinning as you wrapped your legs around him. You held your breath as you felt the blinding pleasure of your peak again, your eyes shut close as Aemond buried himself deep in your cunt, your walls clenching around him tightly as your nails dragged along his back. 

“Did you see stars, my light?” Aemond gritted as he lay still atop you, blowing softly upon your face as your eyes were still closed, and Aemond feared that you were not breathing properly, or if at all. He bit his lip as he saw your eyes slowly peel open, the heaviness as you reached forward to kiss his lips. Aemond hummed in satisfaction– the same satisfaction he felt as the conqueror’s crown was placed upon his brow–perhaps even better. 

You parted your lips to meet Aemond’s eye, startled to see the same lust still evident, and only did you notice that his length was still inside you, hard and pulsating. “What… did I not–” Aemond shushed you and placed a kiss on your lips. “You were perfect, ñuha ōños,” he reassured. “But why…” You trailed, feeling another surge of need overcome you as you felt the slight movement of his hips. 

Aemond smiled wickedly. “I have you for only the night, princess… we are not leaving this bed until morning comes. Perhaps not even then.” 

[eraenaa]

Drop Dead

Inspired by the song "Drop Dead" by Olivia Rodrigo

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Synopsis: A Tyrell and a Targaryen, but I do believe they go quite nice together.

Warnings: None, Fluff, Reader has a big fat crush on Aemond.

Word Count: 1,856

A/N: This is purely for shits and giggles.

Boredom can lead you down many roads. Often, the road less traveled by catches one’s attention– a good path for the one who has grown tired of the same monotonous trail. However, with you, boredom led you to a certain one-eyed prince.

You had exhausted yourself during a ball, your feet ached from dancing each and every song. In consequence, you were forced to retire to your seat earlier than you would like, desolate at your family’s table as your friends and kin enjoyed the merriment on the dance floor. You had been looking about the room, trying to find entertainment in the desolate seat you sat upon, when your eyes caught the form of Prince Aemond. 

He was in a serious discussion with his grandsire, with his brows in a furrow suggesting so, but all you could focus on were his hands. He gripped his wine glass with little force, but you could clearly see how his veins crawled up the appendage. His hands were elegant, you thought. It was lithe as he moved his cup to meet his lips, and you could not help but hope that he would never finish his wine, for it meant that your entertainment for that dull night would be gone.

You knew that the prince was a rather closed-off individual– one who had been called aloof and cold. That fact did not deter you in the slightest. There was a calling that you could not ignore. Even if you had lived most of your life in the Red Keep, it was only recently that you saw Prince Aemond in a different light. 

During your nightly rituals, a mundane routine you have done again and again, the thought of the prince crossed your mind once more. You were sitting in the middle of your plush feather bed, mindlessly brushing your hair, when the image of straight silver locks came to mind. Silver locks that shone under the sun and glimmered under the light of the moon. House Targaryen had always been known for such unique traits, but only now had you truly appreciated its beauty. 

You felt an odd sensation when your mind tried to recall what the prince looked like when you encountered him in the tiltyard. His hair swaying with each strike of his sword, his agile footing scruffing against the earth, and quiet grunts leaving his thin lips. You felt a warm tingle that began from your back and ran all across your body, lingering on your chest. You did not know what such sensations meant; all you knew was that you retired to bed with an inkling to pass by the training grounds tomorrow morning. 

Even before morning came, before you could peel your eyes open and greet a new day, the thought of the prince lingered. He was vivid in your dreams, from the way his quiet yet authoritative voice spoke to you and how realistic it felt to feel him standing by your side and letting your shoulders brush. You woke up with a blush as your imagination ran wildly even in your sleep. 

Though you had planned to venture to the training grounds to catch a glimpse of the prince the night before, you disregarded such plans as you felt butterflies in your stomach and an inkling to heave with just the thought of him. It was an odd and dreadful sensation, yet it felt rather thrilling if you were being honest. From the way your heart would beat louder with just the mention of Prince Aemond’s name, to how you would blush and quicken your steps when you accidentally passed him by in the halls. 

It was all too much. He affected you so greatly that you were starting to see visions of him in the tapestries in the castle or in the marble statues that decorated the corridors. 

“He’s so… ethereal, that I’m starting to believe that I had simply made him up,” You whispered to your friend, your closest confidant. You could no longer keep your thoughts to yourself; the idea of Prince Aemond was all too consuming. 

“I saw him leaving one of the knights bruised and bloody after their training– unfortunately, he is all too real, dearest.” Your friend laughed, and you blushed as a dreamy sigh left your lips when you recalled the look of focus on the prince’s face as he wielded his sword. 

“I do not understand why I feel such things!” You dramatically exclaimed as your mind regained focus. “I feel a dagger is twisting my insides each time I remember his existence!” You sighed as your so-called friend laughed at your expense.

“You have the most peculiar case; most of the ladies of the court are scared to breathe the same air as the prince, yet you have us passing by the tiltyard each hour just in hopes of seeing Prince Aemond.” 

Another sigh left your lips as you, too, could not explain your behavior. It was beyond your control now. You could not word nor voice it out; your attraction was simply brought forth by a delicate instinct that begged you not to question it. 

You did not know much about the prince, but everyone knew that he was not fond of crowds, which is why it was a great surprise when you felt him take a seat beside you as the court waited for a bard’s performance. You held your breath as you saw him glance in your direction. You sat rigidly, your gaze ahead, as his cold, lilac eye lingered upon you for the briefest of seconds. 

You felt the urge heave again, but even with your agitated nerves, it felt thrilling to be seated next to the prince. There were still plenty of seats unoccupied; there was even a section reserved for the royal house, yet he had chosen a seat next to yours. He chose to sit next to you. 

To speak or not to speak was your dilemma. You wanted to seize the moment– to engage with the prince. There were still moments before the performance began, but with each second that passed, you fought an internal battle that had you distraught. 

“Another admirer?” A silky, silent voice cut through your thoughts. You dared to turn to meet the prince’s eye, his lilac gaze already upon you. “Pardon, my prince?” You asked softly, trying your best to hide the nervousness in your voice. 

“Are you another admirer of the bard’s work?” He questioned, and you clutched the fabric of your skirts tightly, your palms clammy with each moment the prince spoke to you. “No– I mean, yes, my prince– I… I particularly like only one of his sonnets.” You stuttered your explanation, your cheeks heating with embarrassment, but it rewarded you with a glimpse of a hindered grin twitching upon the prince’s lips. 

“And pray tell what sonnet has you in raptures that you would purposefully settle yourself in this crowded hall for the afternoon?” You bit your lip as you could not believe that Prince Aemond conversed with you. 

“’Tis heaven’s own likeness… I fear I have committed its words to memory.” You answered and heard a quiet hum leave his thin lips. “And what of you, my prince? What sonnet had you come for?” You boldly questioned, and you held your breath once more as the prince stared deeply into your orbs. 

He never had the opportunity to answer your query, as other courtiers arrived and crowded the room, forcing those who were comfortably seated on benches to move closer to one another. You did not know if it was a blessing or a curse that Prince Aegon decided to sit and crowd his brother’s side, forcing Prince Aemond to settle closer to you.

You bit your lip each time you felt your shoulders brush; you had a vision of the two of you like this for a while now, together side by side, crowded by courtiers that were a nuisance to the prince but a blessing to you. 

The prince did not speak once more, nor did he answer your question as the bard’s performance began, but when your favored piece was finally uttered, you saw from the corner of your eye that the prince mouthed along with the words. He knew all the words to ’Tis heaven’s own likeness, and that fact endeared him to you all the more. 

When the performance ended, you let out a breath of either relief or disappointment as the prince quickly rose to his feet. You did not dare to steal another glance in his direction; you were all but ready to let him leave and have this instance become another moment to commit to memory, but as he held out his hand to you and offered to walk you back to your chambers, you swore you could have fainted.

“Tyrell and a Targaryen, not the most traditional of matches, but I do believe that we go quite nicely together.” You dreamily sighed to your friend. Ever since the prince walked you to your chambers, the heavens had humored you with more prolonged moments with him. 

You would pass by him in the halls more frequently, a ghost of a smile on the prince’s lips each time your shoulders would brush. He had invited you to watch his morning training in the tiltyard, his eye searching yours in between each swing of his sword. You would even have tea in the gardens in the afternoons. 

It was exhilarating. For him, the once notoriously aloof and reclusive prince to choose to be in your presence was an honor that no other could claim. Each time you spent in each other’s presence, your nervousness eased. You began to wonder why you were so hesitant to be in his presence before. In the past, you could not even speak a word if he were within earshot, but now each and every thought and question you could think of was said to him. 

“Have you ever been to Essos? Or flown your dragon to Dorne?” You asked him, and you feel your heart stutter and your cheeks burn as you hear Prince Aemond let out a quiet laugh at your queries. You were sitting upon a swing, the two of you hidden away from others as the weeping branches of a willow tree covered the two of you.

You held your breath as you felt him place his hand over yours, your grip on the swing’s rope tightening as you felt him dip down, his lips drawing closer to your ear. “No, my lady.” He replied, “But I suppose we could if you wished.” He whispered, and you felt your heart skip a beat. You craned your neck to meet his eye, your lips agape as you felt lightheaded. Your mind muddled with the feel of his hand upon yours, and your gaze was entranced by his lips. His thin, pink, and punishing lips.

This was the most alive you have ever felt. But you were certain that if the prince kissed you now, you might as well drop dead. 

[eraenaa]

My Brother's Betrothed

Aerion Targaryen x Valyrian Reader

Synopsis: As a second son, Prince Aerion had always been regarded as second best. He was given the remnants of what was meant for others. But when a bride of Old Valyria was brought to wed his drunken brother, Aerion decided he would no longer accept what was left behind— he would claim what should have been his all along.

Warnings: DUB-CON, ¿Cheating?, Jealousy, Fingering, P in V Sex, Loss of Virginity, ¿Breeding Kink?, Aerion Stressing Makear :)

Word Count: 4,163

A/N: (1) Based on a request where they wanted "A young lady was sent as a potential bride for his older brothrt, Aerion definitely decided that his drunken sibling does not deserve this pure-blooded Valyrian beauty." 🌸 (2) gonna miss u our evil baby boy who stands three apples tall 🥺

To be a secondborn son meant you were always second best. You were the spare. All you were given were scraps, but the best was always meant for the firstborn. Prince Aerion Targaryen had always seen it as such. Being the second son of a firstborn is trial enough; what more if you were the second son of a fourth son? He may be the blood of the dragon, but the age of dragons had long been over, and the only inheritance left to men like him was a memory— if not mockery. 

He had always heard that the gods favored first sons, and he almost believed such folly until he witnessed the fates of the first sons in his family. His uncle, heir to the iron throne, died for an inconsequential hedge knight. His uncle’s heir, his cousin, was taken by the spring sickness. What the kingdom had called great and honorable men, dying so… pathetically, had soothed his envy. Especially as he was reminded of who his elder brother was: a drunken excuse for a prince whose feeble mind taunted him with nonsensical dreams.

Since then, Prince Aerion had taken it upon himself to no longer feel envious towards men who were granted such curses. However, his intentions were forgotten the moment he saw his older brother’s betrothed. 

There were two distinct features that called upon the Targaryens. Their dragons and their silver locks. However, with the decades passing, their dragons were gone, and the silver hair they were so proud of now was a rare trait. He was only fortunate enough to have taken after his father. Prince Aerion had always thought himself to be the image of Old Valyria— he was a dragon— rare and unmistakable. 

But as he set his eyes upon you, he knew the dragon’s blood had been sullied by the unworthy for far too long. From your flowing silver gold hair, half the locks cascading down your back in loose curls, and the other half woven in an intricate pattern. To your amethyst eyes that shone incandescently each time the light hit them. You were striking to say the least. It was almost as if you were a nymph, sent by the divine as a reminder to the world that they were mere mortals. That none could compare to you. 

Prince Aerion was never once to marvel at a pretty face, especially as he was already blessed with one. With you, however, he felt as if he was struck with a morningstar the moment he saw you arrive in the walls of Summerhall. 

They had taken you from the Black Walls of Volantis as a bride for his drunken brother. Giving the drunkard a wife so rare in order to preserve the blood of Old Valyria that was dwindling. It was a privilege owed to the firstborn sons— a most fortuitous match, while secondsons were simply expected to be grateful for whatever remnants remained. 

The prince felt himself shift in his seat, the fire in his veins growing with each moment he looked upon you. You wore a flowing gown of rich purple silk, a delicate circlet of pale gold, and alternating purple sapphires and diamonds adorning your head, a piece of jewelry that reminded him of the necklace his bastard great-aunt wore. Aerion turned to his father in disbelief, Maekar having been the one to select his eldest son’s bride. He could not believe that such a treasure had been so carelessly bestowed. Not upon a king. Not upon a conqueror. But upon a man who could scarcely command his own thoughts.

“Her?” Aerion could not help but ask, an incredulous look upon his comely face as he glanced between his father and his brother, ushering you upon the halls of their home, Daeron stumbling on his feet as you gracefully walked by his side. 

“She shall make a sufficient bride for your brother,” Prince Maekar gritted as he did not wish for his son to question his decisions. “There is no question of her sufficiency— it’s Daeron’s that you should be concerned with.” Aerion finished coolly, though the embers of jealousy burned wildly within him. “You waste such a bride on him?” He added with a shake of his head, his gaze returning to you, who had glanced behind and caught his eyes for the quickest of moments before returning your attentions to his brother. 

“I had heard your qualms— the blood of the dragon is running thin.” Maekar sighed, “It is,” Aerion agreed, his gaze returning to your departed frame that stood at the end of the halls as your supposed betrothed collided with a piece of furniture. “Which is precisely why this match was arranged.” Aerion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then you acknowledge it. You see what stands before you.”

“I see a necessity,” his father corrected sharply. “Not a prize to be quarreled over like some green boy at court.” 

“Be glad for your brother— he is to marry— his heirs having the purest claim our house has seen in a generation.” Aerion let out a humorless huff at that; his sharp jaw had gone rigid. “His heirs,” he repeated softly, tasting the words as if they were sour wine. “If he can manage the act without mistaking her for one of his cups.” He scoffed as he walked off, jealousy souring his palate that he could not even bear to stay in the walls of his home. 

“How have you been faring in… in Westeros, my lady?” Your proposed betrothed questioned as you followed him around his home. You drew in a deep breath, debating your response as you did not wish to offend your intended, as you were far from excited about being taken away from your home to be married to a man whose once sacred blood had been watered down by generations of lesser matches.

“It is…different,” you settled on at last, your voice even. “Your lands are… quieter than Volantis. Prince Daeron blinked at that, as though uncertain whether it was praise or insult. “Yes— well— we are not so fond of… of spectacle.” He laughed at his own attempt at wit, though it rang hollow even to his own ears. You inclined your head politely. Spectacle was not what you missed. You missed the heat of the Black Walls beneath your palms at sunset. The hum of Valyrian spoken without shame. The certainty and security of being among your own.

“Well, I suppose I must learn the ways of your land soon, my prince,” You stated, half of your heart removed from the statement. The Targaryens were not so unknown to you. You have heard tell of their ancestor’s story as to how he had conquered Westeros and declared himself king. Though he might have gained a Kingdom for himself and his kin, the exchange of that was forgetting his roots— his blood. A rather sad trade-off, you thought. Especially as you looked upon your betrothed. With his sandy blonde hair and plain blue eyes, he was far too common in your opinion. 

“We’d rather you not, my lady,” Your betrothed breathed out, and you paused on your steps as he did too, leaning himself against a pillar. By your right was an opening that displayed the courtyard of the castle, where you caught the image of a silver prince marching towards the gate. His silver hair gleamed in the sun. “And why is that?” You hummed and returned your gaze upon your betrothed, who looked nothing like his younger brother.

“You were chosen for your blood— for the strength of it,” Prince Daeron corrected clumsily, pushing himself upright as though the conversation required effort. “There is no need for you to change. Only to… to give us sons.” You bit your tongue, giving a small, albeit reluctant nod as he turned his eyes away from you. “I shall leave you to rest, my lady. I’m certain your travels have taken their toll,” The prince quickly excused, leaving you alone in the halls of his unfamiliar home. 

You sat rigidly as a feast celebrating your arrival was taking place. You cast your gaze upon the unfamiliar faces of the guests, all of them presenting you with their smiles as they believed that soon enough, you would be the lady of the castle and would birth them a new generation of Targaryens with the undisputed blood of Old Valyria. 

You turned to Prince Daeron, who sat on your right. The prince had been drowning in his cups the moment the feast had begun; you wagered perhaps even before then. You pursed your lips as he motioned a squire for another bottle. Not a word was exchanged between the two of you, not even a look, but you had felt a heated stare coming from your left the moment you entered the banquet hall. 

"Boy, stop gaping." You sighed under your breath in ancient tongue. Refusing to glance over your betrothed's younger brother, who had been staring at you for the better part of the hour. "Did you say something, my lady?" He suddenly questioned, his seat inching closer to yours. You finally cast your eyes upon him, only to be met with the familiarity of violet orbs. "I was simply enjoying the merriment of the feast, my prince," You lied politely, a fictitious smile on your lips. "Oh," you hear him say, plush lips parting as his gaze traveled from your face down to your frame. 

“I thought you had told me to stop gaping— forgive my confusion,” He said, a sly smirk on his lips as your pale brow rose in slight surprise. “You know High Valyrian?” You questioned, partly astonished, as you had believed that the Targaryens could no longer be bothered to know the ancient tongue the moment their last dragon fell from the skies. 

“Hen rhinka,” (of course) he said smugly, effortlessly waving for a squire to refill both of your cups. You hummed at his words. Though there was a prominent accent in his pronunciation, it was good enough to prove he had not learned it merely for spectacle– that perhaps he actually cared to know the old ways. 

“Then I suppose my betrothed knows the ancient language as well?” You asked as you gave a passing look to the older prince who rested his head on the table, a frown quickly adorning your face, but you could not focus upon your betrothed’s blatant drunkenness as you felt his brother's sly touch on your arm. 

“Unfortunately, it is only I who took the trouble to learn it properly,” he said smoothly, his fingers upon the bracelet you wore, his skin brushing against yours with the lightest of touches. “How pretty,” he murmured, his eyes glancing between you and your bracelet made of Valyrian steel. “A parting gift,” You explained. 

“A trinket given to girls who leave their homes,” You explained as you shifted your gaze and caught the inquisitive eyes of your betrothed’s father. You hear Prince Aerion hum as he brings his cup to his lips. “A sad exchange, I suppose,” He sighed, glancing over your shoulder to look upon his brother, who struggled to lift his head. You could only hum as well. 

“I’ve heard tell that you have spent time in the free cities, my prince,” You state and took a berry to your lips, catching as the younger prince was momentarily distracted by the small action. “I… I did,” he replied after a moment as he shifted in his seat. You need not look, but you knew the reason why he was suddenly unsettled. “And have you visited Volantis, perhaps?” you then asked as you tucked away a stray lock of your silver hair. Each single one of your actions watched keenly by the silver prince before you.

“I… Your walls were too… too imposing for a wandering prince,” He continued to stutter as you took your cup to your lips, licking away a stray bead of wine that formed in the corner of your lips. He was not drunk, but he battled with his brother in composure. You bit your lip in thought. “They would have welcomed you nonetheless, my prince. Your blood is not so stained,” You whispered lowly. 

Prince Aerion smirked as he looked upon you. Still in disbelief that you shall be married off to his drunkard brother. “I am fortunate enough to take after my father,” he said proudly, “My brother, on the other hand…” he trailed, and you let out a breath. “Well, I suppose that is my purpose here, my prince. To restore what has been diluted,” you finished quietly, your tone neither bitter nor proud—merely factual. Prince Aerion’s gaze did not waver.

“To correct what was once unquestioned,” he added, his voice low. You nodded in agreement. “Well, best pray to the old gods and new that your blood shall be strong enough to endure what ours has become,” he murmured softly, his gaze drifting once more to Daeron’s slumped form. Prince Aerion was not a simpleton. The moment their dragons died, their house's authority had been dwindling. The small folk had made a mockery of the blood of the dragon. They no longer feared it. They spoke of it as they would any other name— stripped of fire, stripped of awe. Prince Aerion abhorred it. 

However, now. There was a chance for his house to rebuild what was taken from them. To reclaim what had slipped so carelessly from their grasp.Not with beasts of flame and scale— but with blood. With you.

But you were to be wasted on his brother. A treasonous action, if you would ask him. Such purity should not be bestowed upon a drunkard. You deserved nothing less than a dragon. You deserved him. An honour that only you could claim. An honour that only he can bestow upon you. 

The day before your wedding was quick to follow. It was a fortnight since you had arrived, and each day since was made to acquaint yourself with your betrothed, but no such things happened as he was either too drunk to hold a conversation with or he had slipped away and tucked himself in another’s bed. Such news did not disturb you. In truth, you were rather relieved that he found release elsewhere. But alas, the day when you must bind yourself to him was approaching. 

It was night, and you sat alone in your chambers, seated upon your vanity as you did your nightly rituals, when you heard a knock come to your door. “Come in,” You say mindlessly, believing it was a maid bringing your nightly tea, but you freeze as you see Prince Aerion through the mirror.

You were quick to stand and adjust your robe, your heart spiking for a moment as you did not expect to see the prince so late at night– especially not in your chambers. Your heartbeat only doubled as you caught his eyes, the violet orbs dark as he effortlessly barred your door.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, trying your best not let your voice waver as he stalked his way to you. “What I should have done the moment you arrived.” You could not even react as the prince swiftly took you into his arms and smashed your lips. His movements were desperate as he pulled you closer to his frame– as his lips moved hungrily against yours. 

Prince Aerion snaked his arm around your waist, pulling your rigid frame against his, willing the fire in his veins to melt you into his arms. “They commit treason to waste you in my brother,” he breathed out as his lips traveled to your jaw, his plush lips placing kisses against your skin that made your head spin. “You do not deserve a drunkard. You deserve nothingless than a dragon.” He gritted and nipped the sensitive part of your neck, a whimper leaving your lips as you struggled to push him away. 

“Don’t– I– I am meant for your brother,” You resisted even if you felt your knees weaken at his touch. His lips tasted of wine, his tongue soft but fierce against yours as he kissed your lips shut. You moaned at the sensation of it– at how his hands begin to roam your body. One grasping your rear and the other your tit, both with such force that if you were not enveloped by a sense of pleasure, it would hurt. 

“Hush now. Do not say words you do not mean, my lady.” He said in ancient tongue, and you crumbled at his words. Your mind was distraught as he returned his punishing kisses on your neck, your hands instinctively tangling themselves in his silver hair. Nails scratching against his skull, and you hear him breathe out a moan against your skin. 

When you feel his fingers try to undo the knot of your robe, you were quick to push him away once more. Your amethyst eyes wide as you shook your head at the realization you succumbed to ill judgment. He mocked your shake of a head, eyes still dark with lust as he tried to step closer to you, but you quickly placed more distance between you. “I will not be denied, my lady.” You hear him grit out as he stalked his way forward, disregarding the chair you stood behind, hoping it would hinder him. 

“I am your brother’s betrothed.” You reminded him, but that did nothing to deter him. “You could be his wife, and it would not stop me.” He laughed humourlessly as he backed you against a wall, trapping you with nowhere to run. You shook your head again, his hand taking hold of your face, fingers caressing your skin. “You may be the blood of Old Valyria, but it is time you learn that a dragon will never be denied,” he whispered against your lips before capturing it once more. His other hand untying your robe, leaving you exposed to him. He wasted no time as he grasped your bosom once more, calloused hands against soft skin. A moan escaped your lips as he pinched the bud, your legs quivering as his other hand began to trail downwards. 

“What a wife you shall be… the perfect woman to sire the dragon’s heirs,” Prince Aerion murmured against your skin as his hand met your heat. You watched as a dubious smirk came to his plush lips, his eyes darting between your flushed face and weeping cunny. “Your lips say no, but your cunt says otherwise, my lady.” He hummed as he drew circles upon the pearl, going as far as to pinch it as well– a startled gasp leaving your lips as his smirk only furthered. 

“You’ve never been touched in such a way, have you my lady?” He hummed as he took your heaving tit into the hot cavern of his mouth, your eyes rolling back as his tongue played with the bud. You could only deep in a shallow breath as you shook your head. “A virgin… I could smell you from a league away.” He laughed sinisterly, watching as you bit your lip when his finger teased your entrance. 

You whimpered as you felt his finger enter. You clung tightly to his arm, your brows in a furrow at the new sensation. “Gods,” You hear him mutter as he curled the digit, and you almost wept at the pleasure that it came with. “Where’s your resistance now, my lady? With just my finger, you already forgot all about my brother?” He taunted as he placed a kiss upon the corner of your lips, your moans and heavy breaths music in his ears. 

Your thighs quivered as another digit entered, your head tilting back as his thumb drew mindless circles against your nubbin. “You’re… you’re shameless,” You managed to breathe out, and Prince Aerion smiled. “And you’re about to come on my fingers– perhaps we are the same.” 

You moaned out loudly as you did, your essence dripping down the inside of your thighs, your eyes darkening as the prince brought his glistening fingers to his lips, then yours to taste your peak. “Now, my turn.” You hear him utter before manhandling you to the featherbed, your back hitting the silk sheets as he crawls atop you. 

You averted your eyes as he removed his tunic and trousers, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. “Come now, do not act so coy.” He said before capturing your lips once more. You dug your nails into his arms as you felt the head of his cock glide between your folds, a persistent smirk on his lips as he looked upon your face. 

“You’re mine… You shall be my wife… mother of my children. I can already imagine them… hair of silver– eyes of purple– the blood of kings and dragons in their veins,” the prince moaned as you winced when he breached your entrance. 

Prince Aerion smiled as he saw a tear escape your incandescent eyes, darting out his tongue to lick it away, and a gasp left your lips at the feeling of his tongue against your skin, and as he thrust his hips. You moaned as the pain slowly subsided, and the prince moaned as well, as he felt your velvet walls pull him in. 

“Faster,” You could not help but moan as you arched your back. The prince was quick to oblige as he dipped down and took your tit into his mouth once more, his thrust relentless as he rutted himself in you. You clung to him tightly, your nails scratching his back as your legs circled his hips. “Say that you’re mine,” The prince gritted against your tit, his teeth biting the bud, and you clenched upon him tighter as the pain mixed with pleasure. 

You barely comprehended his words, too drunk in the pleasure you felt. “Say that you’re mine.” The prince repeated as his hand came to your neck, clasping tightly and relishing in the way your eyes widened and lips parted. “I…I’m— I’m all yours, my… my prince,” You struggled to say as he obstructed your breathing, you cunt tightening further that you heard him let out a loud grunt as he thrusted into you deeper. 

“Again,” He ordered, his hold on your neck never releasing. “Yours– all yours– I shall be your wife… mother to your children,” You cried as your hand reached for his, your vision darkening before he released your hold and you came undone. 

Prince Aerion smirked in satisfaction, placing a peck on your lips before emptying himself deep inside your cunt, praying his seed would take quickly as he was impatient to see you swell with his child. He was to sire the new generation of Targaryens, the purest of blood– an undisturbed line of dragonlings with his hair and your eyes. 

“You did what?” Prince Maekar spat in outrage as his second son came to him with a bloodied sheet, the evidence of your maidenhead presented to the prince. Prince Aerion only smirked as his father tried his best to rein in his temper. “She’s mine.” He said matter-of-factly. His gaze flew to his older brother, who seemed to not care at all as he tipped his cup into the air, letting the scarce scarlet drops fall on his tongue. 

“Best to disregard the preparations in the sept– my betrothed and I would prefer a Valyrian ceremony, just as our blood demands.” Prince Aerion smiled as his father marched towards him and took hold of his collar. “She was meant for your brother– the firstborn.” Prince Maekar gritted, and his son simply shrugged before him. 

“Marry him to one of our cousins– I do not care.” He stated as he stared upon his father’s seething face. Prince Maekar’s grip tightened, the fabric of Aerion’s collar twisting beneath his fist. “You dare,” the older prince seethed, his voice low and trembling with restrained fury. “You dare to defile a match forged for the good of this house?”

“I dare to strengthen it,” he replied coolly. “Soon, she shall swell with my child. A new age of dragons.” The prince smiled at the thought of it as his hunger for you came once more. “Aerion had always taken what he fancied– it’s fine,” Daeron sighed as he stood, refilling his cup as he truly had no care. You were pretty enough, sure, but in truth, with his hazy vision, your beauty had blurred into something far less remarkable than the wine before him.

Aerion smiled at his older brother’s words. “Be glad for your me, father— I am to marry— my heirs having the purest claim our house has seen in a generation,” he repeated his father’s words. Triumphant as he claimed his brother’s betrothed. You were now his, and no decree or order could reverse a claim bound by blood. 

[eraenaa]

A Dragon's Companion

Aerion Targaryen x Lannister Reader

Synopsis: Only a lion can tame a dragon, and only a lion could be a dragon's companion. It was only unfortunate that it took being exiled before the prince came to such realizations. But as he returned to Westeros, he knew that he could not let his lioness roam free.

Warnings: Mean!Reader (like srsly), Slight Violence, Minor Jealousy (both sides), Banter, ¿Enemies to Lovers?,  Fingering, Handjob, Oral Sex (M), P in V Sex, Lost of Virginity, ¿Aerion Whimpering/ Being a Bottom?

Word Count: 7,646

Prequels: A Dragon and a Lioness (1st part) Burning Desire (2nd part)

A/N: Thank you so much for supporting this series! <3

To deny a desperate dragon satisfaction is one thing, but to expect it to forget the hunger is an entirely different kind of foolishness. After you had denied the prince your bed, you had expected him to beg. You left the prince needing and desperate for your touch— you left him believing you had the upper hand in your little game. However, you should have known better than to think that a starving dragon would not feed elsewhere.

The whispers came at night. Vile whispers of a prince procuring a whore to be brought to his chambers. Your skin crawled at the thought of it. Your blood boiled with the very idea that a woman was hauled all the way from the city and let into your home with the sole purpose of appeasing a dragon prince’s lust. 

How dare he? How dare he spurn you so quickly? How dare he offend you in your very home? How dare he forget that it was only your touch that would quench his thirst?

You had believed you had taught him a lesson. You thought that you made it clear that wanting did not always mean having. You denied him your cunt as a way to remind him that not all he wanted would be granted. That even a prince could be refused. That even a dragon could be kept waiting at the gates. It was never meant to drive him elsewhere.

Your rage only multiplied as you and your keep were kept up all night, as you heard the fictitious moans of the whore he took into his bed. And it only doubled as you passed the woman the next morning. A smug smirk on her lips as the sound of coins echoed in your halls. 

The nerve of it all! He was a mere guest, yet he had the audacity to stain your walls with filth! 

Your displeasure was painted plainly across your comely face, and each person you passed that morning coward behind for no one wished to test the temper of the lioness. When you and your kin gathered in the great hall to break your fast, your brother looked warily at the great scowl on your face, but said not a word.

When your father finally arrived with Prince Maekar, you and the prince mirrored each other’s expression. A deep furrow on your brows and lips in a thin line as you both were aggravated by what you had heard in the dead of night. 

You heard him whisper an apology to your father, Prince Aerion’s actions unbecoming of a man of his station, and he did not even have the decency to hide his depravity. Your father could only give an awkward laugh, stating that such actions are expected in youth. 

You sat rigidly in your seat. Any appetite you had had gone as the moans of the whore the prince lay with still echoed in your head. And when you heard his familiar footsteps approaching, you tightened your grip on the fork you held. You did not turn as you felt him approach the seat next to yours. You simply held your head up high, erased any aggravation on your face, and pretended that the sound of another woman in his bed had not carved itself into your pride.

You hear the scraping of the chair on your left, but before the prince could take his seat, Prince Maekar quickly pulled his son out of the great hall and far from your presence. 

“Tell the maids to clean the halls and rooms once more— we do not know what kind of disease that whore had carried with her,” You said plainly as you heard the distant sound of Prince Maekar scolding his second son. 

You kept your eyes on your plate, ignoring the questioning gazes of your father and brother. When you heard no reply coming from their lips, you finally raised your eyes, casting them an unimpressed look. You watched your brother look away, uncertain what to say, as he had hoped you had not heard the squeals of the prince’s whore, but what he had hoped for most was that the moans that echoed through the night were not of yours. And judging by the quiet rage in your eyes, along with the words you had uttered, he was certain that his fears of you entangling yourself with the prince were simply unfounded.

“Of course, my darling. You are right to be cautious.” Your father finally replied, glancing towards your brother, who stayed silent in his seat. When the princes returned, it was your turn to leave. Giving a hasty curtsy to the king’s fourth son, all the while completely ignoring his grandson. 

Prince Aerion could not help but smirk. He felt triumphant that morning, especially as he saw how hard you tried to rein in your contempt. He knew full well the consequences of his actions. He knew that ordering a whore would send whispers in the castle— whispers that would quickly travel to you. It was all part of his scheme. He aimed to spurn you just as you had spurned him. And gods did it work. 

“Jealousy does not suit you, my lady,” the prince declared as he found you in the gardens of your home after his meal. You sat alone on a stone bench, your guard by your side as he once again held a parasole over your head to shield you from the hot, western sun. You dismissed him the moment Prince Aerion arrived. 

“Jealousy? I’ve never been one to envy those lesser than me,” you say as you raise your gaze to meet his violet eyes. Your tone cold even as you try to make yourself sound indifferent. The prince only hummed, a teasing grin on his lips. 

“I think I shall enjoy the Westerlands… your people always sang songs about your beauty. I wonder why they failed to make songs about your whores. They’re quite…enthusiastic,” he finished smoothly, violet eyes gleaming with provocation as he inched his way closer to you. 

You squared your shoulders, willing yourself not to show any sign of emotion on your face. “Men do not typically sing about something so common,” you answered as you stood, wishing to be in the prince’s presence any longer. “You think yourself rare, then?” He asked with a slight tilt of his head, his burning gaze roaming your shamelessly roaming your frame once more. 

“I know it for a fact, my prince.” You say confidently as you let him inch closer to you. The smell of his whore’s cheap perfume was evident as a light breeze came. You backed away as your nose twitched at the scent. The prince only found further amusement. 

“You should thank me, my lady. I am simply preparing you for what is to come.” You frowned at his words. “Preparing me for what, exactly? The smell of rancid perfume accompanied by the scent of a rotten prince?” You spat, and your anger only multiplied as the prince had the gall to laugh and take a stray strand of your hair into his fingers.

“For marriage,” he said plainly. “For court. For the reality that men of my station do not belong to one woman’s temper.” You clenched your hands into a fist at his words. “In all honesty, you have no right to be jealous. You had denied me, had you expected me to crawl back to you and plead? Were you waiting for me to knock at your door last night?” He asked with a mocking look in his eyes. 

“Though I suppose I should understand your anger… You had a chance with a dragon prince, yet you decided to squander it away.” He sighed as he dared to step even closer to you. “So proud,” he murmured. “So certain you could bend a dragon to your will.”

You stepped back and breathed in deep. “If I recall correctly, it was you who was on bended knee as you lapped my cunt,” you seethingly whispered. “I would have thought a man of your station would be above such indulgences, but who am I to question where you choose to seek your pleasure?” You asked quietly as you watched the prince calm the fire in his veins. 

“I recall it differently,” he said at last, though the edge in his tone betrayed him. “You seemed rather pleased with my… devotion.” You rolled your eyes. “Pleased? Do not mistake that for pleasure— those were simply sounds brought out by pity at how hard you were trying. I suspect your whore had done the same,” he went still at your words. “Pity?” he repeated, voice low.

“Yes,” you replied coolly. “You were trying far too hard. It would have been cruel not to indulge you.” You hummed, satisfied with each moment the prince doubted himself and his prowess. “Do you know why I denied you my bed?” You then questioned before he could utter another word. 

“Because you wish to keep yourself pure, your pride is nothing without—“ you scoffed, effectively cutting his words. “No,” You said sharply. “Because you are reckless— impulsive.” 

“Did you believe I have denied you because I wish to keep my innocence? To keep myself pure for my future husband?” You asked with a tilt of your head. “I could run a whore house, and my suitors would still be lining up and singing me praises.” You hummed as you watched the prince’s face reddening. 

“I denied you,” you said quietly, “because I wanted to see whether you desired me… or merely the idea of taking something denied.” You relished the prince’s silence. He was an arm’s length away, but you could practically see his desire to step closer to you. His feet resteless as he stood his ground. “You were on your knees,” you reminded him softly. “Not because I forced you. Not because I begged you. But because you wanted to be there. You were desperate to be there.”

The prince’s jaw clenched at your words. The same fire he felt in his loins burning and utterly desperate for your touch. “And you think I still want you?” he asked through gritted teeth. You smirked at his words, eyes glancing towards the prominent dent in his trousers once more. “I know you do, my prince.” You say smugly and turn to walk away. “You are not worthy of me. Any man who easily settles for a whore when they could have my devotion is a man ruled by impulse— a man who has no discipline— a man who does not desire me well enough.” 

Prince Aerion was sent into exile. You wanted to laugh as the decree reached your ears. Not long after their visit to your home, Prince Maekar had decided that it would be best for his son to be sent away to a land where his station would not be exalted. He believed that Aerion must learn discipline, just as you had believed as well. 

When the Targaryen princes left Casterly Rock, it did not take you long to forget about Prince Aerion’s existence once more. He was only remembered on nights when you felt heat between your legs, and the memory of him was quickly erased the morning after. 

Two whole years had passed, and you lived your life just as you did before you had met him. However, as the crown’s successor once again changed, you received an odd letter from Essos. You studied the scroll delivered to you, seal unremarkable, parchment stained, and the twine that held it fraying. You debated as to whether you should open it, believing that the letter sent was simply misdelivered, but your curiosity got the best of you as you took a letter opener into your hands.

Dragons were never meant to be disciplined, but alas, here I am. I suppose even Valyrian steel can be wrought to shape when left long enough in the forge. You paused as a frown overcame your face. 

Essos has little patience for pride and even less for fire. Apparently, here, titles mean nothing when you are forced to prove yourself without them. I have found that men are less impressed by lineage and silver hair, as they prefer barbarity and blood.

If you’re still wondering who sent this letter, then let me remind you. It is the dragon who had tasted your lips and cunt— the dragon who you wished to learn discipline— the very man you had denied. You claim that I do not desire you enough, for I bought a whore into my bed. I’ve bedded hundreds of whores while across the sea, but I must admit they brought little satisfaction. My cock may desire whatever cunt it can find, but the dragon within burns with need for a lioness. 

Your lips thinned at words you read, your mind conflicted if you should be flattered or disgusted. 

You once asked whether I desired you… or merely the idea of conquering something denied. Distance has answered that question more brutally than you ever could. It was never conquest I wanted. It was you.

And when I return, I shall conquer your mind, body, and soul— A dragon needs a companion after all, and I have learned that the best companion a dragon shall ever have is a lion. 

Your hold on the scroll tightened, uncertain what to feel at his words. “What is that, my love?” Your betrothed asked gently as he sat across from you. His eyes were on the piece of parchment that wrinkled in your hands. You cast your eyes upon him, his dark hair absorbing the light from the afternoon sun, and his gentle, green eyes looking upon you with patience. “Nothing— a message addressed to the wrong person,” you gritted as you crumpled the letter in your hands before tearing it into shreds. 

Your betrothal to a son of House Tyrell had been finalized a moon ago. And ever since then, your father had asked him to stay within the walls of your keep as a further measure to acquaint yourselves better. In all honesty, you were uncertain why you had chosen him— why you had willingly given him your hand when a line of suitors still sought and fought over your favor. 

Perhaps it was because he was the most comely amongst them. With a tall, solid frame and broad shoulders that filled out his doublet handsomely, he cut a pleasing figure in any hall. His dark hair fell just long enough to soften the sharpness of his jaw, and when he smiled, it was with warmth and not fire that would burn you. 

He was a suitable— dependable— stable choice. A choice that was celebrated greatly by your houses, as they were overzealous with the match. You, however, were simply indifferent to it. A fact that cannot be said by your betrothed as he looked upon you with mistification and disbelief that he was chosen—worthy enough for a lioness. 

“You grow prettier with each passing day, my love. Have I told you that?” he asked as he reached for your fisted hand across the table, his warm touch upon your skin. You rolled your eyes. “You had already told me that this morning— and the day before— and the day before that.” you sighed as you tried to remove the biting tone from your voice. 

“And I will continue on for it is the truth,” Your betrothed smiled as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles. “You need not be this obliging; you have already gained my favor and hand. You are no longer battling with the lords as to who shall gain my attention.” He sighed as his thumb brushed your knuckles, keeping your hand close to him. 

“I am not doing this for show, my love. I am simply showing you how devoted your future husband is,” he smiled, and you wanted to recoil at the sincerity in his eyes. Some may think you odd—perhaps even mad — but you honestly prefer a man who is scathing rather than sweet. There is no thrill when devotion is handed to you so easily. 

It would be utterly unfair if you returned his sweet words with scathing remarks, but alas, here you were. Tongue between your teeth, as you could not be so cruel to lash out at a man who offered you nothing but devotion.

It was true, years before you wished for the prince to be devoted to you— but not just devoted. He was your equal. If he scathed you, you do the same. If he presented you with fire, you would answer with flames. If he reached for your throat, you would bare your teeth. You did not want to be handled as though you were porcelain. You did not want to be showered with praises without being rained on by witty criticism. 

You wanted to be met. Challenged. Tested. You wanted an equal, not a helpless opponent. But alas, here you were. A lion betrothed to a rose. You could only hope that his thorns might prick you soon, as you feared that you had truly gone numb.

***

Six moons after your betrothal, you and your betrothed rode to the Capitol as you two were to be presented to the court before your nuptials. You never sent a reply to Prince Aerion. You did not want to return to old patterns. You were almost a married woman; there was no need to tempt and torment the prince. 

“You look divine in your new dress, my love,” your betrothed complimented with a smile as you rode to the gates of the Red Keep. You gave him a passing look before replying. “I know,” you say simply as you smooth the silk of your scarlet gown, its embroidery of golden flowers signifying your union with Lord Tyrell. 

You heard news that a once-exiled prince had returned while you were on the road. Luckily, Prince Maekar and his kin still resided in Summerhall, far from the Crownlands and far from you. In all honesty, you feel apprehension if you were to be with Prince Aerion once more. Surely he would have a mean and cruel word if he came to know about your betrothal, his thoughts and sentiments about the match same as yours. 

When the wheelhouse finally halted, your betrothed was quick to disembark and held out his hand to help you exit, a warm smile on his lips as he linked your arms together. “Their keep is quite plain,” you observed as you two walked arm in arm, your father and brother ahead of you. They spoke pleasantries with the hand of the king. 

“Well, it pales in comparison to your beauty, my love,” your betrothed stated, and you rolled your eyes once more. You were in no want for faltery. You wanted a companion who would judge and jest with you. Who would lean in close and murmur something wicked about the court beneath his breath. Who would meet your eye across a crowded hall and share in silent mockery rather than shower you with syrupy praise. 

Prince Aerion’s jaw ticked as it would seem the vile whispers he heard were true. His lioness was betrothed. To an unworthy Tyrell no less. By gods, you were idiotic, the prince thought. You could have had a dragon, yet here you were, picking a rose. There was a bored expression on your face as you walked the halls of the Red Keep, a stark difference compared to your betrothed, who looked mystified by the reddish bricks. 

The prince wanted to march right towards you, to see you upclose and assess the man you had chosen. But he held himself back, remembering the words you said— that he was too impulsive, reckless. Surely, you would frown upon his boorish actions. So, instead, he watched from afar as your betrothed followed you along the halls of the keep like some lost pup. 

The prince began to wander when your betrothal took place. Was it before or after the letter he sent? Was your betrothal the reason why you had never sent him a response, causing him to go on a rampage when he grew tired of waiting for a reply? In all honesty, there was an inkling of regret within him as he decided to write and send the letter. He was drunk on some piss-tasting ale when he had written it. He was away in battle, the women around him overly plain and did not stir want within him— at least not the same fiery want he had whenever he thought of you. 

Even now, just a glimpse of you had led the same stirring in his trousers. The same need— thirst that was yet to be quenched. And it would seem that the thirst he had for you would be left neglected as you were now bound to be married to another. Well, the dragon will be damned if he shall lose his lioness to a pitiful flower. 

“The prince is here,” You hear your brother whisper as he pulled you to the side, your father, along with your betrothed’s kin, preparing themselves to be presented to the court. “We are in the Red Keep. I would think there is a prince in every corner of this castle, brother.” You sighed as you fixed your askew necklace. 

“I meant Prince Aerion.” He clarified, with clear anxiousness in his voice, as you tried to hide whatever reaction on your face. The gods were toying with you; you were certain of it. “So?” You asked as you hear your betrothed call upon you. “Well, I do not wish to be redundant, sister, but again, I beg of you to stay away from him. You are almost a married woman— there is no need for you to toy and…” Your brother trailed, and you raised an unimpressed brow at his words. “And?”

“And tempt him. You cannot think us blind. With our stay in Ahsford and their visit to our home, it is clear that there were more than teases and japes between you two,” Your brother fretted, his mind unable to forget the moments you and the prince were in each other’s company. You only rolled your eyes at his words. 

“You worry too much for your own good— it makes you see things unclearly, brother.” You denied as you tucked a stray strand of your golden hair behind your ears. You stilled the moment you did it, as from your peripheral vision, you saw the frame of a silver prince stalking its way to your direction. “Oh gods, I’ve conjured him,” you hear your brother mutter before forcefully pulling you to your betrothed, and he even made you two link arms. 

“My prince,” you hear your father greeted as he approached. You stood with your back straight and head held up high as you met the prince’s eyes. Years of exile had changed him. He was no longer the same princeling you had decided to maim with your tongue back in Ashford. Exile had carved him leaner, sharper. His careless, smug smirk remained, but it sat differently now; his smugness was now earned and no longer simply bestowed because of his station. His shoulders were broader beneath his dark, crimson leathers, his posture straight, almost guarded. Essos had not softened him. It had refined him. Had made him worthy of being a dragon.

“Lord Lannister,” he bowed, his eyes not upon your father but still glued to you. Not another word was exchanged, but the usual gentleness in your betrithed’s touch was dissolved as he held your arm firmer, almost possessive. It only furthered as Prince Aerion moved to stand before you two. 

“My lady,” you hear the prince greet, and you were obliged to curtsy, but you froze as he reached for your hand and placed a kiss upon your knuckles. You did not understand why, but even if your betrothed had done the same action hundreds of times, the kiss placed by the prince felt different. As if there was truly fire upon his lips. 

The prince eyed you shamelessly, his lips lingering a bit too long against your skin. It took your betrothed to clear his throat before the prince finally let go of your hand. “And this must be Lord Tyrell,” Prince Aerion continued at last, turning his attention with slow deliberation. He offered a smile that would have fooled most men, but not you. “I have heard much of this… fortunate match.” He said, tone dripping with fictitiousness. 

“Your highness,” your betrothed bowed, but the prince paid no mind as he still had his eyes upon you. You raised an unimpressed brow upon him, not at all enjoying the amusement behind his violet orbs. “You are most fortunate, my lord. Hundreds of lords and knights, and even princes, had fought for your lady’s attention, but it would seem she has a fondness for flowers,” the prince said, a sinister smirk still on his lips as he looked upon your betrothed. 

“What makes you so special then?” he added, his eyes glancing towards you, who was yet to say a word. It would seem his years away had taught you to hold your tongue. Quite unfortunate, he thought.

Your betrothed did not falter, unlike your brother, whose apprehension was clearly evident on his face. He did, however, tighten his hold upon your arm. “I do not claim to be special, Your Highness,” he replied evenly, the warmth in his voice gone. “Only fortunate. My lady chose me. That is distinction enough,” he added, and you feel him look upon you with pride. You stayed silent. 

“Chose,” the prince hummed. “How curious. I had not thought her the type to choose safety.” his eyes slid to you again, slow and deliberate. “I would have wagered she preferred… danger— perhaps even fire.” The prince said, and you hear the distinct sound of your father drawing in a sharp breath, accompanied by the confused looks of your betrothed’s kin. 

“The years past has changed us all, my prince.” You replied quietly, the lion’s temper gone. The prince’s gaze did not waver. “Have they?” he asked, and there was no mockery in it now— only trying to find the truth in your false words. “I had hoped some things remained untouched by time.” He said boldly, and you could not help but roll your eyes. “Then you shall be most disappointed, my prince.” You said and saw the same old spark in his eyes as you finally found your voice again. 

The prince hummed, his eyes glancing between your betrothed and your intertwined arms. “I suppose I am,” he answered, his words simple and clear. The air was heavy, heavier than the gold clasped around your throat. You were uncertain if the prince was playing a game once more; the only thing you were certain of was that you did not like games that you did not begin. 

“You cannot be serious.” Prince Aerion spat as he finally found a moment where your betrothed was not by your side. There was a banquet held in the great hall of the Red Keep. The prince had his eye upon you the moment you entered, and it took him bribing his older brother to chat with Lord Tyrell just so he would leave your side. 

“Whatever could you mean?” You asked as you sipped your wine, your eyes upon the sea of guests, and willed yourself not to meet the violet eyes of the prince. “You’re marrying him? A mere second son of House Tyrell? Set to inherit nothing but the scraps of his brother? I would think your pride, or at least your sensibilities, would hinder you from making such idiotic decisions,” the prince scoffed as he settled by your side, taking your betrothed’s place. 

“You’re a second son.” You reminded him. “With the blood of the dragon in my veins. With a title as well.” He said with a disapproving shake of his head. “What do you want, your highness?” You sighed as you finally met his eyes, your ferocity gone with each day you marched closer to the altar. “I had thought I made it clear in my letter. Do not tell me you are still confused as to who sent it. I shall give you a hint, it was none of my brothers,” He said with a smug smirk, and you rolled your eyes as he leaned in closer to you. You caught the eyes of your betrothed, who seemed rather irritated to see the prince in your presence. That was new, you thought. 

“I must admit, I was left disappointed when you made no reply, again.” He mussed and you scoffed at his words. “And what reply should I give to such a letter? Should I have applauded you for bedding half of Essos before deciding that I alone could soothe your wounded pride and lust? Or perhaps I should have wept at the honor of being compared to the many who warmed your bed?” You spat, your grip on your chalice tightening. 

The prince’s sculpted jaw tightened as his eyes hardened at your words. “You know that is not what I meant.” He gritted, and you shook your head as an unamused laugh left your lips. “Then what did you mean?” 

“Marry me.” You lost your words at what he uttered. “I have meant what I said. Only a lion can be a dragon’s companion, and only a dragon can match a lion. Do not waste your life away on a Tyrell. Be mine. Be my bride. Be my princess. Be my lioness.” It was the most earnest words the prince had uttered, and you felt yourself stagger at his tone. 

For a heartbeat, you simply stared at him, searching for falseties in his words. Believing that there was another game afoot, that he wished to scorn you once more. But as you stared into his violet orbs, the same orbs that haunted your dreams, you found nothing but sincerity. Sincerity that never suited him, but there it was— it was there for you. But you could not waver now, not when your walls were built higher than the one that stood in the north.

“Marry you,” you repeated softly, repeating the absurdity of it. “You sit there in my earshot at a royal feast— with half the realm watching— and you think you may simply ask for my hand as though I am some trinket you misplaced?” You said bitterly, and the prince leaned in closer, where his breath fanned your face and you could smell the scent of wine on his lips. 

“Not ask,” he corrected, voice low. “Claim.” You scoffed and shook your head. “You still have not changed,” You sighed as you tried to move your chair away, but the prince was quick to hinder you, his hand upon yours beneath the table. 

“Oh, but I have, my lady. If I hadn’t, I would have taken you to my chambers and claimed you without another thought or regard— would have shown your pathetic betrothed how sweetly you moaned my name. I could have done so much by now— could have spent by the hour. But I had not… I had learned discipline just as you had wished.” The prince whispered lowly against your ear, and you fisted the fabric of your gown as you felt the same needing coil within. 

“You will find no satisfaction with him… You won’t be happy if you marry him.” The prince whispered as he resisted leaning closer to you. Gods, the years had changed you for the better. He did not know what miracle guided him not to claim you years before, but now nothing could hinder him from having you. 

You swallowed thickly at his words, your eyes glancing upon his full lips, still tempting as they were before. “And you think I shall find happiness in you?” You asked. “You won’t be bored, that’s for certain,” he replied, and you could not help but laugh. “He is a bore,” You agreed with a heavy sigh, and Prince Aerion smiled widely at your words. 

“I have given him my word and hand, Aerion.” You sigh heavily as you watched your betrothed battle with a sea of guests as he tried to return to your side. “Words are easily broken, my lady,” The prince murmured as you felt him place a chaste, ghost of a kiss upon your shoulder. The action was so quick that you debated whether it ever truly happened. “Perhaps yours is, but not mine.” 

You feel the prince’s hold on your hand tighten, willing you to look upon him once more. “What do you wish for me to do?” He asked, and you could only shake your head and steal your hand away as your betrothed returned. “There is nothing to be done.” 

“Nothing to be done? By gods… I have invited a liar into my bed,” The prince grunted as he had you pinned underneath him. It was easy enough to be rid of your betrothed; just one challenge for your hand had him running back to Highgarden. To say he was undeserving of having you as his bride was an understatement. 

You mewled as you pawed at the prince, desperate to remove his tunic and to feel his skin against yours. After years, only now were you two set to complete the first game you had begun in Ashford. You reached upwards, your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him in for a desperate kiss, years of wanting poured into each movement of your lips. 

Prince Aerion greedily ran his hands along your body, grasping desperately upon your supple skin that was still clad in your shift. He desperately wanted to be rid of the item of clothing, but in doing so, he had to part your lips, something he could not do. 

You smirked against the prince’s lips as you heard him let out a groan as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and another groan left his plush lips as you swiftly switched your positions. You straddled him proudly, your eyes filled with desire that mirrored his as you had him underneath. Your weeping cunny against his hardened cock that aches to break free from his trousers. 

“Come now, my prince… that is no way to speak to your wife,” you say as you finally remove his tunic, tossing it to some corner of his chambers. A grin spread across your husband’s face at your words, his hands slithering up your body before grabbing your tits, the action harsh that a whimper left your lips. You retaliated by grinding your hips against his, and a hiss left his lips. 

“You may be my wife before the kingdom and court… but here? You are nothing but my whore,” the prince gritted as you did not cease your torment, his hand lowering and resting on your hips and guiding your movements. You only moaned, finding a different kind of pleasure at his words. “Is that so?” You asked you lowered your frame to meet his lips, but moved away when he tried to capture it. 

“Yes,” he said without dispute, but you shook your head. “Such foul mouths don’t deserve my kisses,” You whispered, and you swore to the old gods and new that you heard a whimper leave his lips as you moved to unstraddle him. You hear a frustrated groan leave his lips as you stand at the edge of your marital bed, his deep purple eyes desperate. You bit your lips as he tried to reach for you, but you backed away. 

“Do not make me use force, my fire— you would not like witnessing what madness does to a dragon,” Aerion grumbled as he had to wait four moons before your marriage. Ever since he set his eyes upon you once more, his desire to find satisfaction in any other cunt was gone as who could ever truly compare to his lioness?

You hummed in question, “If I had wanted rationality, I would have married Lord Tyrell— I did give you my hand for a reason, husband.” You sighed as you flicked your hair back, smirking to yourself as the lust in the prince’s eyes only multiplied. You bit your lip as you wanted to laugh at how quickly the prince was to pin you against the poster of your bed. “You would be wasted on a Tyrell,” your husband gritted as he flushed your bodies. 

You saw a dangerous glint in his eyes, the same danger and fire that you had sought your entire life. Your breath hitched as you lowered your hand to cup his needing length, his head tilting back in utter pleasure by the little action. “I married a tease,” Aerion gritted as you fumbled with the belt of his trousers and he took the moment to unsheathe his dagger. When he raised the cool steel, the prince almost let out a groan at the look of unbridled lust in your eyes, as if the weapon spurred further your desire. 

You hummed in satisfaction as he glided the cool tip of the blade against the skin of your arm, the steel pausing by your shoulder before he swiftly used it to cut the strap of your shift, exposing more of your skin. “Why is it that I see no fear in your eyes, little wife? Do you truly trust me that much?” Your husband said lowly, trailing his blade against the graceful curve of your neck and placing the lightest bit of pressure against the spot near your ear where his kisses had left their mark. 

You let out a breath of a laugh, lightly shaking your head as you held onto his cock tighter, a hiss leaving his lips. “I have come to learn that your threats are empty when it comes to me, dear husband,” You whispered against his lips, your grip further tightening, and you feel his length twitch at your touch. Aerion rolled his eyes at your words, moving to capture your lips, but you turned your head as you denied him once more. 

He tossed his blade to the floor, letting his hands rip off the remainder of your shift, leaving you bare before him. You laughed as he forcibly took hold of your neck once again, hindering you from moving away as his lips captured yours, the scene familiar as he once again ordered you to return his kiss. 

You were quick to part your lips, smirking as his were still puckered and eyes filled with pleasure that was cut the moment you pushed his away. “Now, do you still wish to have my tongue, my prince?” You then asked your husband, who was too distracted, that it took him a moment before he realized that you had sunk to your knees before him. 

“Oh gods,” Aerion moaned as he grabbed a fistful of your golden hair, your lips teasing his length as you peppered wet, sloppy kisses upon it. His moans only grew louder as you finally used your tongue to lick a clean streak against his length, his hold on your hair tightening as you repeated the actions twice. You had not even taken him in your mouth, and you were certain he would already come undone. And when you finally parted your lips, you inhaled sharply as Aerion was quick to push your head to meet and take all of his length, your throat tightening as he did so. 

You dug your nails into the toned muscle of his thighs, but it would seem to only further his pleasure as you heard his moans ring out loudly. They had always said that the woman’s moans were the only prominent sound that came from a couple’s marital chambers, but it would seem your husband would wish to prove them wrong. 

The prince felt that he was close to coming undone, and he forcefully pulled away and marveled at the sight of you with watery eyes, flushed cheeks, and glossy lips as you looked upon him with a mix of irritation and want. “I was right not to take your tongue, it is truly better suited for pleasuring me,” He hummed as he bent down to capture your lips, his calloused hands harshly grasping your tit. 

You sighed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, biting his lip as you felt him hoist you against the bed’s poster, a satisfied hum leaving your lips as you felt his length against you, needing cunt. “For a man who claims that he had desired me all these years, you certainly are taking your time before you have your way with me,” You sighed as you could no longer bear the wanting need to feel the prince inside you.

Aerion smirked smugly as he tightened his hold on your behind, squeezing the ample, supple flesh. “And in what way do you wish to be had, my fire? On your stomach?” He asked as he tossed you onto the feathered bed, lifting your arse into the air and giving it a harsh slap, and you could not help but let out a bubbling laugh as you felt yourself grow evermore aroused. 

“On your back?” He then questioned, turning you to lie against the soft, silk sheets— once again pinned underneath him, and he took the opportunity to dip his hand to be met with your cunt. A dangerous glint in his eyes as he felt how wet you were.

You sighed as you felt his finger easily slide in, his thumb drawing circles upon the pearl on your cunt. “What shall it be, wife? Or do you prefer bent against the table? Or perhaps against the wall? I do remember how sweetly you moaned for me then,” Aerion smirked as he took your heaving tit into his mouth, gently biting on the bud and making you let out a startled squeal. You looked upon him, sucking at your tit. You could not help but notice how innocent he looked, as if he were not the prince who rampaged the moment he believed he was insulted. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair again, softly shaking your head as he proposed positions. He furrowed his brows at that. “Do not tell me I shall be denied once more. By the eyes of gods and men, we must fulfil a duty, little wife.” 

You smiled at his words and the slight flash of fear in his eyes at the possibility he would be left unsatisfied. You said naught a word and captured his lips, moving to lay him down on the bed instead. “I prefer it with you… underneath me,” You whispered as you parted your lips, crawling to straddle him once more. You saw a glint of resistance in his eyes, and you feel him resist, but the moment you place your cunny against his pulsating length, any apprehension within him dissolved. “You have always claimed you were a dragon, husband. Then let me have a ride,” You smirked as you placed kisses upon his chest, your hands running along his hair as if to soothe whatever hesitance he harbored. 

You bit your lip as you reached behind, aligning yourself with his length. Aerion watched as your eyes rolled back as you sank down on his length. He gripped your hips again, his hold almost harsh as he felt your walls clench around him. “Now… are you not glad that I had saved myself for marriage, husband?” You moaned as he fully sheathed himself inside you, your nubbin resting against his skin as each movement, however small it was, gave you immense pleasure. 

Aerion could not find it in himself to reply, too overwhelmed by the feeling of you atop him, grinding your hips against his, and digging your nails into his toned chest. He looked down, seeing how his cock was covered with the evidence of your maidenhead, a devious smirk on your lips as it would seem he was far more pleasured by the ordeal than you. 

“I would think with you bedding a hundred whores would make you somewhat… proficient in this act, but I feel as if you would come undone already, my dragon.” You sighed as you straightened your back, looking down upon the almost pathetic look on your husband’s face. Your smirk only furthered as you saw determination overcome his comely face. “Do not tease me, little wife. I could have you unable to walk for a week.” He threatened, and you moaned as his hips met yours. 

“Another empty threat?” You asked, but you let out a scream as he was swift to switch to your positions and have you underneath him. Your legs hooked in his arms as he pushed your thighs against your chest. Your vision doubled as your eyes rolled back at the new sensations. You felt every inch of him now, you felt out of breath even if he was yet to move. “Dare to repeat such words?” He hummed as he reached down to rub circles against your cunt. “You’re all mine, my lioness.” The prince grunted, and you smiled in triumph at his words. 

Who knew that uttering a few insults would land you where you were? A princess, being pleasured by a dragon prince. Of course, some would say he was cruel and perhaps even sadistic, but you were all but the same. A perfect match as a lion found a dragon as her companion. 

Tag List (based on comments on previous part): @senatorpadmeamidala @toriisblog @naty-sunshine @lauramooij05 @icebearcucumber @whiteoakoak @theehotgirlstudent @belanekra @saevitiaa @zdkelena

[eraenaa]

Burning Desire

Aerion Targaryen x Lannister Reader

Synopsis: After your acquaintance with the prince in the meadowy fields of Ashford, you left him with a burning desire to see you once more. Now, how shall a dragon fare when in the den of lions?

Warnings: Mean!Reader (like srsly), SlightViolence, Banter, Sexual Tension, ¿Enemies to Lovers?,  Fingering, Handjob, Oral Sex (F), ¿Aerion Begging?

Word Count: 6,767

Prequel: A Dragon and a Lioness Sequel: A Dragon's Companion

A/N: (1) The reader is basically the girl version of Aerion, just not as extreme; you have been warned. (2) written before I watched ep 4.

Gold is easy to melt when met with fire, or at least that was what Prince Aerion had believed. Ever since he met you, the only daughter of Lord Lannister, the fire within him burned evermore brightly. He had thought that it was enough for you to melt right into his hands, but it would appear that the only thing the fire did was make him grow hot and bothered. 

After the ugly ordeal with the puppeteers and the sudden reappearance of his youngest brother, any chance he had to steal a moment away with you was spurned. He had tried to seek you out after his meeting with his uncle and father with the pathetic hedge knight, who was too simple-minded to comprehend that it was a prince of the realm that he decided to strike. However, you had already retired to your chambers, and your guards were ever so diligent that they could not even be convinced or threatened by him. 

When morning came, you were greeted by the mutterings about a trial of seven and the princeling demanding satisfaction. As you recalled the night before, you wanted to laugh at how pathetic the prince had looked as he was thrown about by the knight, but even as pitiful and weak as he had looked, you could not deny the coil and pull you felt as he looked upon you with blood dripping from his lips. Not to mention the way he had flicked his tongue as he licked away the deep scarlet blood. 

You would lie if you said that the image of the prince looking upon you did not burn its way into your mind, had brought a wetness to your cunt. However, as attractive as he was, you could not let your attraction show. A lion does not bare its throat simply because the fire is warm.

“My prince,” Your brother greeted as both of you passed him by the halls, lips still swollen, and you glanced upon the small, dark gash caused by Ser Duncan. You took a moment before you curtsied before the prince, his gaze unyielding with each second that you did not present him with the respect he believed he deserved. When you stood straight, you held his gaze, a challenge in your eyes, but you said not a word.

Your brother shifted beside you as he watched his sister exchange stares with the prince, the same mischievous glint in their eyes. “How are your preparations for the trial, my prince?” Your brother then asked, unable to bear the heavy silence that he was enveloped in as his sister and the prince shamelessly eyed one another. 

“Well, my lord. The dragon ought not lose,” The prince said once more, and you bit back your smirk as you remembered him saying the exact words just last night, seeming to repeat the phrase to reassure himself despite not actually winning any fights since he stepped foot in Ashford. “Well, we wish you luck, your highness.” Your brother said cordially, ready to walk onwards with you, but you had a different thought in mind. 

“Why a trial of seven? Are you afraid to face Ser Duncan alone, my prince?” You asked, feigning innocence and curiosity as you tilted your head to the side, looking upon the prince who pursed his lips and clenched his chiseled jaw. “Sister,” You heard your brother hiss as he tightened his hold on your linked arms, but you only glared at him with a fictitious look of confusion. “A—Apologies, your highness. My sist—“

“It’s fine, Lord Lannister,” You hear the prince grit out, trying his best to maintain composure, but you saw fire brewing behind his deep violet orbs. “I’ve chosen such company as a statement, my lady. An oaf has disparaged the blood of the dragon; a mere battle between us is hardly sufficient, would you not agree?” The prince explained, catching the way you crossed your arms across your chest, creating a deep line that momentarily distracted him from yet another insult you had hurled his way. 

“So you aim for a spectacle?” You ignored your brother’s pointed look as you failed to hold your tongue. “Call it what you wish, I simply demand satisfaction.” The prince answered, stepping closer to you, ignoring the presence of your older brother, who had evident fear plastered on his face, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “And we are well certain you shall have it, my prince. But if you would excuse us, we are due… due elsewhere… good day, your highness.” Your brother quickly said, leaving no room for you to reply to the prince’s words as he had practically dragged you out of the castle.

Prince Aerion followed your retreating frame, a steely look in his eyes as you glanced behind, a teasing smile upon your lips as you sauntered away. He could not understand why he had let you hurl insult after insult upon him, and all he could do was stand there. Should he not retaliate? Punish you for uttering such distasteful words? He should have locked you in the cells. Administer your punishment himself just so he could witness you cry out for mercy and feel your trembling frame before him. The prince had always found amusement in the fear and pain of others, but as he thought of inflicting such acts upon you, he did not find much satisfaction. 

The realization vexed the prince. But he knew he would make you bend to his will one way or another. It simply eluded him how. 

“Come now, brother, do you not think you are overreacting?” You sighed as he ordered your maids and squires to pack your things and ready your men to continue your journey to Casterly Rock. “All you had done since we had arrived was insult the prince to his face. It is a miracle that you still stand before me, sister.” Your brother sighed as he even took initative to open your trunks for you. Your maids shuffling around the guest chambers as they gathered your belongings. “Our purpose here in Ashford was to find respite from the road; we have it. We must leave. Lest the prince’s patience truly wears thin.” He added, and you rolled your eyes.

“You had begged me to join you here. Now that I have finally found a speck of amusement in this bleak countryside, you have now changed your mind? How cruel could you be, brother? Constantly changing your mind, the moment I find interest?” You scoffed, and your brother fisted his hands by his side as his own patience was proving worn. “Do you wish me to be miserable?” You asked, and you smoothed your skirts, your words aiming to cut and guilt your beloved brother. 

“I wish for you to live a long and happy life— and that could not be if we stay here another moment longer. You are not toying with a mere lord, sister. This is a Targaryen prince. No matter that he is the mere second son of the king’s youngest child… he has the conqueror’s blood in his veins— that is enough for him to take your head if he so wishes.” You rolled your eyes once more. The prince could not even think of a clever enough rebuttal for your words, nevermind him taking your head. 

You sighed as you looked deeply into your brother’s eyes. You supposed you should be touched by his great concern for your safety, even though there was no actual concern. “Very well, brother, I shall do you another kindness. Tell Lord Ashford then that we are to leave.” You stated, and your brother frowned as you moved to leave your chambers.

You found yourself by the training grounds moments later. Your guard absent, your satin slippers muddied, and your dress now smelled of smoke. You did not know why you threaded to the grounds, but you supposed it was fortuitous timing as you caught a glimpse of Prince Aerion training with his recently arrived brother, Prince Daeron the Drunken. You stood on the side for a moment to observe, your presence and your brilliant scarlet gown catching the attention of the other knights and passersby present. But the attention you wished for was too preoccupied with his sword. 

You toyed with the ruby necklace that rested on your chest, debating if you should stay a moment longer, even if the smell of earth, sweat, and shit was becoming vexing. You blew out a breath as the clouds that partially covered the sun dissipated, the light rays setting you aglow, and only then did a prince notice your presence. It did not take long before Prince Aerion pushed away his brother and sheathed his sword to stalk his way to you. 

“A lioness willingly subjecting herself to mud… has your house’s sigil turned to a pig now, my lady?” Prince Aerion questioned as he approached, his hands folded before him and resting on the hilt of his sword. You sighed as the prince seemed to be less masterful with his words compared to his sword. 

“And a dragon relying on his white knights to save him… we do live during odd times, my prince.” You answered as he stood at arm’s length away from you, your eyes flickering towards the glimmering armor of the Kingsguard who were ceaseless with their training. 

“When you watch the battle, then you will realize how false your words are, my lady. There you shall see the ferocity of the dragon.” Prince Aerion said lowly, stepping closer to the lady who shimmered like gold under the afternoon sun. “I find little interest in battles. Brute force is simply a simpleton’s last resort.” Prince Aerion raised his pale brow at your reply. “Then why had you come here?” He could not help but question. “I had naught a choice, my brother had insisted I come with him.” You explained, eyes flickering back to the group of white knights who had seemed to forgo their training to gawk at the Golden Beauty of Casterly Rock. 

When Prince Aerion had noticed your attention was divided between him and the inconsequential knights, he clenched his fists at another show of your impertinence. He was certain that the coil in his stomach was caused by your lack of respect for his company, rather than jealousy, as you gave a smile to one of the knights, their amused laughter reaching and burning his ears. 

“The crown expects your attendance, my lady,” The prince gritted out as he saw amusement in your eyes as one of the knights was rendered to blush like a bashful whore as you gave them another second of your attention. You hummed before returning your gaze to the prince, noting the seriousness in his violet orbs and the firm set of his chiseled jaw. “Is my attendance expected by the crown or you?” 

Prince Aerion had always been a sure man. He was a dragon reincarnated. Which is why it was perplexing as he felt himself stagger when you stepped ever so closer to him. “If the crown were expecting my attendance, I’m inclined to deny— surely my brother’s presence shall suffice. But if it were a prince who asks for my presence… I might think twice of not attending,” Prince Aerion held his breath as you stepped closer to him, you were just a finger’s brush away. 

“So tell me, my prince… does the crown demand my attendance or is it you?” You whispered, eyes momentarily flicking towards his lips as your finger went to brush away a speck of mud on his shoulder. You smirked as you saw his eyes flicker almost shut, heard his shallow breaths, and could practically see the turmoil in his mind as he tried to think of a witty enough reply. 

“I… I want you…” You raised a brow at the prince, practically breathing out the words, but as quickly as it came, the trance the prince was in dissolved. “I… I want you to attend so you may bear witness to the might of the dragon,” The prince quickly recovered, voice hardening as he saw theteasing glint in your eyes. “Oh,” you said, “Is that an order, your highness?” You feigned an innocent look once more, watching as to how the ball in his throat bobbed up and down. “The highest of orders… if I do not see you in the box on the morrow, I shall take it as treason, my lady. And would have to administer your punishment myself.” Your smirk only widened. 

You knew the consequence of lying to royalty was hanging. However, you had been toying with the prince since you both had arrived at Ashford, but not a hair upon you was even harmed, and so you gave a nod. Lying that you shall attend and cheer him on, even if you were to leave before the sun could even set. 

“If you had wished for my favor, you could have just asked so, my prince. I’m not so mean-spirited as to deny you.” You said with a cocky grin on your lips that only widened as the prince let out a breath of a laugh. “Excessive pride is most unbecoming on a woman,” Was all the prince could muster as a reply, but you caught the faint redness that spread across his high cheekbones. 

“You forget that I am a Lannister— what are lions without their pride?” You gave a final look at the prince, curtsying before him, before he could answer. Prince Aerion watched your departing frame, your hips swaying with each step you took. His patience was wearing thin. He was tired of the chase. Aerion had always believed that a dragon like himself deserved a dragon as well, but the lioness before him had taught him the truth: his equal was her. 

“You still owe me a hundred gold dragons, brother,” You say as you neared the gates of your home. Before you two had left, you made a wager with your brother. You declared that Prince Aerion shall lose, and he decided otherwise. A foolish decision, for he became a hundred gold dragons poorer. You heard many new stories during your travel back to Casterly Rock. You heard of the prince’s defeat, at how he yielded as Ser Duncan threatened his eye with a dagger, perhaps fearing that he would befall the same fate as an ancestor of his. But what was most shocking of all was the death of Prince Baelor at the hands of his own brother, making Prince Maekar a kinslayer just as their ancestor who began the dance of the dragons and was the reason why their great beasts no longer roamed the skies.

Dragons are not so kind to liars. You bit back your smirk as you were greeted with a scroll that bore the Targaryen seal the moment you arrived in Casterly Rock. After another fortnight on the road, you thought the first one to greet you the moment you returned home was your father, but as the doors of your wheelhouse opened, a frantic-looking squire who had been itching to give you the scroll as it had arrived days before. 

You studied the scroll between your fingers, a bit perplexed as the prince had even found time to write you despite the great tragedy that had befallen his house. You thought twice before writing back to him, unsure whether to send a witty reply or condolences. You could not decide, so you did not write at all, deciding to leave your acquaintance with Prince Aerion in the meadowy fields of Ashford and continue on with your life. However, it would seem the gods had a different plan in mind. 

“How long must we dress in mourning? It is not as if he were our relative,” you grumbled as you sat with your brother and father to break your fast. You resented the custom that the great houses with close ties to House Targaryen must as well dress themselves in black after the prince’s untimely death. You were growing tired of wearing black and bleak dresses that lacked luster or adornments. You had missed your rich scarlet and crimson skirts, often complaining that such drab colors did not suit you and did nothing for your complexion. 

“Just until the end of the week, my darling.” Your father said softly, and you eyed the scroll in your brother’s hand that bore the seal of House Targaryen. “What is that?” You questioned from the other side of the table, your brother's brows furrowed. You had not thought much about the prince and his house since you decided to tuck away the scroll he sent to some forgotten part of your chambers three moons ago. The only reminder you had of House Targaryen was that they were the reason why many of your fine dresses gathered dust in your wardrobe. 

“We are to host Prince Maekar and his sons by the moon’s end,” You brother informed with a heavy sigh and handed you the scroll. You frowned and read the words, declaring that Prince Maekar, along with his sons, would visit Casterly Rock as an effort to offer good graces and make certain the great houses’ allegiance was as solid as ever, even after the line of succession was changed. 

“They come out of courtesy… they do not seek retaliation, sister. Best not to give them another purpose for coming,” You hear your brother say from the other side of the table, and you rolled your eyes at his words that aimed to remind you of how you had behaved with Prince Aerion moons ago in Ashford. 

“Why shall they seek retaliation?” Your father then questioned, as it would seem he was not privy to your impertinent actions made before the blood of the dragon. Your brother smirked as he caught your glaring eyes that implored him to stay silent. Alas, he still tattled to your lord father. “I was not insulting him, brother— those were mere teases,” You defended yourself as you turned to your father, who had a deep frown between his brows. 

“But why must you tease the prince, my darling?” He asked softly as he returned the scroll to your brother, who began to think of the preparations needed as your house would host royalty. 

“I was bored, Father. What had you expected me to do in Ashford? Play with their sheep?” You asked incredulously as you sipped your wine, hearing your brother let out a breath of a laugh at your words. “Well then, you’re home now, where there is much entertainment— best not to repeat your actions in Ashford, my darling.” Your father advised, and you could only blow on your cheeks and give a reluctant nod. 

When the time of the princes’ arrival came, you stood by the gates of your home to greet them. You were finally rid of the drab mourning clothes that they had forced you to wear, and now wore a gown that suited you most flatteringly. It was an exquisite gown, with crimson brocade that came from Lys, embroidery made from gold that came from your house’s mines, and a chain of rubies that your father had gifted you two moons before, as you were ever so displeased with having to wear plain gowns for days on end. 

You straightened your stance and placed your gaze upon Prince Maekar, as he was the first to come into view. His face was as stoic and stern as you remembered, perhaps even more so considering the kingdom blamed him for his brother’s death. 

You stood silently by your father's side as he greeted the eldest prince present, a look of recognition in his eyes as he looked at you and your brother. By the side of your eye, you see the figure of a certain prince who had been the recipient of your tantalizing words moons before. You kept your gaze forward, paying him no mind even as you felt his familiar violet orbs burning a hole at the side of your face. 

“My sons, Prince Daeron and Aerion,” Lord Maekar stated, stepping backwards for his sons to greet their host. You watched as Prince Daeron stumbled upon his feet as he gave a shallow bow to your father, who gave you a knowing look at the state of the prince. You wanted to smirk, also finding the same amusement your father had, but as the second son of Prince Maekar stood before your father, you bit back your smirk. 

You watched as he gave shallow, reluctant bows to your father and brother before placing his gaze upon you. You half expected him to insult you before your father, which is why it took you by surprise as he bowed before you and took your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles. Looking upon you with a grin as his lips grazed your skin. You rolled your eyes at his actions before stealing your hand away. You turned your gaze to your father, who urged your newly arrived guests inside your home, and your brother was quick to link your arms to prevent you from retracing old patterns. 

“You could lock yourself away in your room if you wish.” You hear him whisper as you feel the steady gaze of the prince at the back of your head. You scoffed at his offer. “This is our home. I will not lock myself in my chambers like some damsel in distress,” You said bitterly and ignored the persistent gaze of Prince Aerion as you entered with his kin in the reception hall. 

“A dragon does not take being overlooked lightly, little lion.” You feel your skin become riddled with gooseflesh as the prince slyly leans next to your ear as he takes his seat by your side. You glanced towards your brother and father, who took their respective seats, engrossed with whatever conversation they had with Prince Maekar. “I had welcomed you and your kin to my home; you cannot take that as ignoring you,” You whispered as you motioned for a squire for wine. 

“And what of the letter I sent?” He asked, leaning closer to your side, and you caught the weary look in your brother’s eyes that you ignored. You painted a look of feigned innocence on your face, your brows furrowed in confusion. “What letter, my prince?” You asked, and once again, the prince could not control his gaze as it briefly flew to your lips. “Do not act simple with me, my lady.” He gritted out, and you smirked, leaning away to keep distance. 

“Oh,” you said with pretence dripping from your tone. “Pardon my confusion, my prince. You see, the letter had no sender— for all I knew, it could have come from another Targaryen prince, or it could even be a ploy,” You explained and watched the way the prince’s chiseled jaw clenched. 

The prince had no reply. You waited for him to lay out a scathing remark— aiming to lessen the excessive pride he claimed you had, but he said not a word. He only sat silently as your father discussed pleasantries, and only did you only felt his presence once more as he stood with his kin to freshen up in their chambers. However, instead of following his father, who was escorted by your squire, he went to yours. 

You tried to hide your confusion as your brother went to your side, insistent on delivering you to your chambers. He had observed that you and the prince had been silent throughout the whole ordeal; he’d rather not tempt fate and keep you in the prince’s proximity any longer than needed. However, before your brother could pull you to the highest tower in the east wing, your father called for your attention. 

“My darling, could you perhaps tour the prince around? We would not want for the prince to roam aimlessly through these halls, would we?” Your father requested, and you feel your brother gently elbow your side as a clear displeased expression adorned your face. “Do we not have squires and maids to attend to such matters?” You questioned with a deep furrow between your brows, the sound of your brother letting out an exasperated sigh echoing throughout the tense silence that surrounded you. 

Prince Aerion watched keenly as your father awkwardly laughed at your words before briefly pulling you to the side to have a discussion that was only for your ears. He wanted to roll his eyes at the fact that your father could not even scold you for showing such impertinence towards a prince of the realm. If anything, he only indulged your stubbornness as he heard him bribing you with the promise of new jewels and dresses if you obliged his request that the prince had asked of him. 

He bit back a smirk as he watched you roll your eyes and reluctantly went to his side. “Try not to walk so slowly,” You gritted out as you walked past the prince, readily expecting that he would follow you. You walked through the halls of your home with a prince by your side, earning curious glances from courtiers, but neither of you bothered to look upon the men and women who gawked at a lion and dragon walking side by side. 

“What use is a tour when your guide is silent? Must I guess as to which part of this glorified boulder you call home, I am in?” You scoffed at the prince’s words. “You are in the den of lions, my prince— best not to offend the pride.” You muttered as you turned towards a corridor. It was Prince Aerion’s turn to scoff, readying himself to reply, but as he noticed the great opulence displayed in your home, from the richly colored tapestries to the countless meters of pure velvet you two walked upon and even the gold adornments in every corner, he could not help but feel less. 

He was the blood of the dragon, his kin the rightful rulers of Westeros; they were gods among men, but not even the King had enough coin in his coffers to adorn his bed chambers with such fine things— let alone his castle. He recalled the drab halls of his home and his apartments that were practically a closet— they were royalty, but you and your house certainly lived more regally than they did. 

“Are you truly not to say anything? Has a cat captured the lioness’s tongue?” The prince remarked, tone bitter as he passed another portrait of you hung on the wall, certainly commissioned by your father. “We have not even left the great hall, my prince. I’m not wasting breath to tell you the histories of each artifact that they displayed in these halls.” You sighed as you again turned another corner and finally arrived at the west wing of the keep. 

“West wing, where you will find the scarlet drawing room, my father’s study, and council chambers, as well as the library.” You explained, uttering directions you knew all too well the prince did not listen to. He may have asked your father to tour him around, but you were certain he only did so because he had a concealed purpose in mind. There was a game afoot, and you’ll be damned if you were not named its victor. 

“And through there is a passage to the tiltyard. Best keep it in mind, my prince. Would not want you to forsake your training with the sword and have to yield to another lowly hedge knight.” You said, smiling sweetly and fictitiously as you glanced beside him, a scowl in his eyes and lips almost pouting. 

You were to walk onward, but you took in a sharp breath as you felt pulled to him, and he pushed you against the curved wall of an alcove. There was fire in his eyes and rage on the tip of his tongue. You took in a deep, struggling breath as you felt him tighten his hold around your neck, a sinister smile on your lips. 

“Careful, my prince… I’m beginning to believe you hold an interest in me,” You laughed against strained breath. “All I’m interested in is your scathing tongue, my lady.” Prince Aerion gritted out, his hold tightening ever so slowly, and it should shame you to admit that you feel a familiar burning coil between your legs. You wondered if he could lift you up with how tightly he held your neck. “I have offended you,” you stated.

“And you wish for satisfaction.” You added as the prince’s face threaded closer to yours, your bodies flushed against each other, and if you could breathe in more air, your heaving chest would brush against his jaw. “I do.” You were starting to feel lightheaded, your eyes wanting to close, but you fought it as you wished to see the prince’s expression when you uttered your next words. 

“Then… in what way do you wish for my tongue to satisfy you?” You whispered, catching the way the prince’s glare staggered and made way for unbridled lust before he quickly concealed it once more. The prince’s grip against your neck finally loosened, and you took deep breaths as you rested your back against the wall, arching it ever so slightly to further taunt the prince, who only leaned in against your frame. 

“I could fuck you against this wall if I wished. Ruin you for those other lords. Bring shame upon the lion’s pride.” You feel the prince’s breath fan your face, your lips still in a sinister smirk. You sighed and looked at how greatly he hid his nervousness. As much as he claims that he was a dragon, he was truly a sheep when faced with a lioness.

His uneasiness only grew as you leisurely wrapped your arms around his neck, the ball on his throat bobbing up and down as his eyes shifted between your lips, eyes, and chest as you drew deep breaths. “The question was never if you wished it— you were quite obvious in that regard. The true question was whether I would let you, your highness.” You said simply, your fingers combing through the silver locks of his head, his violet eyes fluttering at each time you scratched your nails against his skull. 

You feel the prince take in a sharp breath as you lean in, your lips passing his as you aim to whisper something against his ear. “Now, do you truly wish for my tongue, or are you after my cunt?” You bretahed out, teasing the prince as you darted out your tongue to lick the lobe of his ear, your teeth giving it a gentle nip. His tight hold no longer on your throat but rather on your waist as he tried to pull you closer to him. You backed away and admired his stunned face, his full lips parted, his purple eyes heavy, and his manhood pressed against your stomach as he remained flushed against you. 

A hum left your lips as you withdrew, unwrapping your arms around his neck and pushing him away. “Nothing more to say?” You asked with a tilt of your head, ready to walk onwards, but you gasped as you felt the prince take hold of you once more and return to flush your body between the wall and him. 

Prince Aerion was an impatient man. He was a restless man. For moons, all his mind could think of was the lioness who dared to insult him in Highgarden. The lioness who ignored his letter. The lioness who would bring a throb in his cock each time he thought of her. He was tired of playing games. He knew he must take what he wanted. 

“Moons ago, you accused me of uttering empty threats; now you shall witness how false your words are, my lady.” 

You gasped as you felt the prince smash his lips against yours. You froze for a moment, not actually expecting that your first kiss would be taken so abruptly. You were in your head as you debated whether you should kiss the prince back. It was tempting. He tasted of wine, and his lips were annoyingly soft. However, you did not wish for him to know that you, too, were in want of him. If you had it your way, you would have him beg just for a taste of your lips. Alas, you could only tempt and goad the dragon for so long before he finally takes action. 

“Kiss me back.” The prince gritted against your lips as you took a moment longer when deciding to concede. You could not help but breathe out a laugh. “Beg.” You breathed out, watching as lust and rage battled in his eyes. “Oh, I’ll have you begging for more than my kisses, my lady. I shall make certain of it.” The prince oathed, and you raised your brow, ready to retaliate, but as you feel him dip down and raise your skirts, your words died on your tongue as you feel the prince cup your heat.

Perhaps it was a foolish decision for you two to entangle yourselves in such indecency in the open halls, where anyone could simply pass by, and your father’s study was only a few short paces away. But with each moment passed, you found little concern. 

You glared at the prince as you saw a smug smirk overcome his lips. Act all annoyed as you wished, but there was no hiding the dampness that spread between your legs. “So fucking wet. Gods, you are a great actress, my lady. But perhaps you are a better whore.” Your hold on the prince’s arm tightened as you felt his fingers move against your dripping heat. Your lip between your teeth as you saw how his purple eyes darkened by the way you let out a strained breath. 

“Now, I will be kind. I will not make you beg for satisfaction just as long as I shall be satisfied as well.” The prince breathed out, and you rolled your eyes before using your hand to cup his hardened and throbbing length. The restrained sound that came from his parted lips was almost pathetic if it did not bring further wetness to your core. You further bit your lip as you felt his calloused fingers draw circles upon the pearl of your cunt, your eyelids fluttering as you leaned in and captured his lips. 

You did not know how long you and the prince stayed there in the darkened alcove with your lips against each other, tongue fighting for dominance, and hands desperately pawing at one another. But you believed it was not such a prolonged amount of time, as no passersby came, but the prince was already ready to come undone. 

How weak he was, you thought. Here you were, rubbing his length through his trousers, and he was already on the verge of spilling his seed. All the while, his fingers were against your weeping cunny, and you were still struggling to reach your pinnacle. 

You sighed against his lips as you finally felt him slithered one of his fingers inside you, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he witnessed your eyes roll back without irony or malice. His smugness only grew as you let out an unhindered whimper when he curled the digit. “Tell me, my lady? Are to come? Will this dragon be the first to witness you screaming like a whore?” He asked against your jaw as lips placed kisses upon it. 

“You will have to try harder if that is your aim, my prince.” You breathed out as you felt his cock twitch against your palm. You sighed as the prince removed his finger from your cunt, now accepting the fact that perhaps the dragon would not bring you satisfaction. However, you watched through furrowed brows as the prince brought his glistening fingers to his lips for his tongue to taste your wetness before sinking down to his knees. 

It took a moment before you realized what was happening. You gasped as the prince disappeared in your skirts, his plush lips latching onto your cunt and his tongue lapping upon your pearl. It was only then that you let out a moan, your hands instinctively gripping the prince’s hair to steady yourself as he raised your leg and rested it upon his shoulder. 

The prince relished at your moans even if they came to him muffled. In truth, he had never done such acts before. He never dared to sully his lips with a woman’s cunt. But with you… He must admit he had fantasized about feasting on your cunt. To feel you writhe against his face, desperate for a release that only he could give. He never thought that you could taste so addicting. He was desperate as he lapped at your folds, eager to taste the nectar between your legs and make you squeal out his name. 

As he ate at your cunt, he palmed his length that yearned for your touch once more. If it were another lady, he would have simply ordered her to take his cock in her mouth, no regard for her own needs. But you were no other lady. With them, the prince only sought out his own satisfaction, but with you, he believed your admission that he had satisfied your need was far superior.

“Aerion,” you breathed out as you neared your peak. It surprised you at how good he was with his tongue; you were almost certain that he had never done such acts before, but by the way he knew how to make you come undone so easily, a flash of jealousy overcame you as you realized that perhaps you were not the first to have him in such a state. 

However, your mind could not focus on such matters for the meantime as you let out another moan and came undone as his tongue breached your cunny’s entrance. You blushed at the depraved noises of the prince lapping at your release, but a sense of pride overcame you as you could feel his desperation through the way he cupped your bottom to further flush his face against your cunt. 

When Prince Aerion finally rose, you witnessed how your slick had glossed over his lips. You returned your hand to cup his length and threaded your lips closer to his, smelling your scent against his skin. “I must admit… I have never eaten a lady’s cunt before. But by your reaction, I’m well certain that… that I am most skilled.” The prince breathed out as he was nearing his own climax.

You hummed and peppered kisses against his jaw, lips moving near his ear once more to further tease him. “Is that so?” You hummed as you snaked your hand inside his trousers, lustful eyes darting to the side to witness that truly no other soul passed through the halls and witnessed your actions. 

The prince could only groan. You relished in the way he came undone with your name slipping from your lips, hand gripping tightly at your tit as he came undone by your hands. You smirked and placed another kiss on his lips before stealing your touch. 

You looked keenly upon his heavy-lidded eyes. He need not utter it, but even if he just came undone, you knew that he wished for more. Prince Aerion wanted you underneath him, atop him— he wanted you in every possible way a man could have a woman. It was only a shame that you didn’t. Well, perhaps you did as well, but you would never lower your pride to admit as such.

“Where are your chambers?” The prince breathed out as he pawed at your tit, his other hand around your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. You could only let out a breath of a laugh, pushing him away to see the look in his eyes as you denied him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, my prince. I am still a lady.” You sighed and watched as his lust-filled eyes began to harden once more. “You may be a dragon, but I will never be your whore.” You finished with a satisfied smirk, pulling away and walking onwards, pretending that such depraved actions never took place. 

Tag List: @toriisblog, @senatorpadmeamidala, @insideoutjulie, @starzbrii, @astrannie, @powellssaturn  (based on the comments on the previous part.

[eraenaa]

A Dragon and a Lioness

Aerion Targaryen x Lannister Reader

Synopsis: Dragons and lions are temperamental creatures, especially the pretty ones. What happens then if they shall ever cross paths? Who shall yield first, the beast that roams the skies or the one who prances upon the earth?

Warnings: Mean!Reader (like srsly), Mentions of Violence, Banter, Sexual Tension, ¿Enemies to Lovers?,Slight Dunk bullying (I’m sorry! I felt really guilty when writing it!) 

Word Count: 5,786

Sequel: Burning Desire (2nd part) A Dragon's Companion (3rd part)

A/N: (1) The reader is basically the girl version of Aerion, just not as extreme, you have been warned.

They say dragons are temperamental and cruel creatures, but they often forget to mention that lions are the same. The only thing that differs between the two is that dragons no longer roam the skies; lions, however, still strode over the land. 

“I insist you be obliging, sister. We are merely guests in Lord Ashford’s home; there is no need for your scathing remarks if you find his keep disagreeable.” Your older brother, the heir to Casterly Rock, sighed as you two rode to Ashford. After a moon on the road seeing you had accompanied your brother as he tended business in Dorne, you had expected to be home soon. However, he had ambushed you with his decision to attend a tourney hosted by an inconsequential house somewhere in the Reach. 

After suffering a fortnight in the hazy heat of Dorne, you believed that soon you should be surrounded by the cool and lavish stone walls of your home, Casterly Rock. But your brother was insistent on attending the tournament orchestrated by Lord Ashford, as he was desperate to parade his daughters and beg any young lord or knight to take one of their hands. 

“I do not understand why I must attend as well when they could simply bring you to Ashford and return for you once they had delivered me to Casterly Rock.” You complained to your brother as you grumbled when your wheelhouse jostled as it met the uneven road of the countryside. “I do not think it is safe for you to travel alone, sister. Besides, I’m well certain that your back has grown sore from our journey, and I know how displeased you are with the straw beds at the inns we stayed at. This shall be a nice respite, and we shall be back on our way.” Your brother explained, and you rolled your eyes at his words. The young lord could only sigh. 

His sister had always been fastidious and particular— some even say a cutting type of young lady. You were a spoiled little thing; your father had made you as such, and he expected your brother to continue on with his indulgence for his only daughter. Often, he did. He had always obliged your wishes; he even let you come with him to Dorne, for you had wished to see sunsets in the west, as you had heard tell it was the prettiest sight to behold. But the matter of your journeying to Casterly Rock alone was a matter he could not abide by as there were concerns for your safety. Gods forbid something happens to his father’s beloved daughter. 

“Then why have we employed guards? Are they only there to sit in their arse when danger arises?” You questioned with a sharp raise of your brow, and you were once again met with your brother’s sigh. “No, sister. It's just I will feel more assured if you travel with me; I cannot risk sending you into harm's way. Father would have my head if anything befalls you and I am not there.” Your brother explained, but that did not lessen the annoyance you felt as he made you attend the tourney. 

“So you admit, this is for your benefit, not mine.” The young lord pursed his lips at your words, too tired to keep having to explain himself that he could only nod. “Yes, sister. I ask of you to do me this kindness and attend the tourney with me.” He conceded, and you rested your back upon the plush velvet cushion of your seat. You sighed heavily at your brother’s words. You were feeling rather benevolent that day as you finally accepted the fact that you must subject yourself to the dirt, filth, and small folk you must endure as you attend the tourney. 

When you finally arrive in Ashford, you try to once again rein in the irritation you felt as you caught a whiff of the pungent odor of horse shit and heard the boisterous cheers of attendees. You had half the mind to mount a horse and ride ahead to Casterly Rock, but with the fickle weather and muddied road, you could not even fathom the thought of ruining your fine crimson dress and satin slippers with such grime. 

“Come now, sister. Look on the brighter side. There are plenty of knights, lords, and even princes present. All of them are dying to witness the Golden Beauty of Casterly Rock.” Your brother said, trying to soothe your resentment at having to be in Ashford. “I’ve no care for knights or lords.” You scoffed as you were nearing the castle’s gates. “And what of princes?” He then mused, remembering the moments you would walk along the halls of your home with one of the hundreds of bejewelled tiaras your father gifted you. 

“The princes of the realm are inconsequential. The royal house has fallen on sad days ever since the Blackfyre Rebellion. They cannot even pay their debts to our house.” You scoffed as you flicked away your golden hair to cascade behind you. “Pray you mention naught a word about the King’s debts, sister.” The young lord sighed as he knew one word heard by the wrong ears could earn his sister a great deal of peril. “It is simply the truth, brother. We had lent them our gold, and yet they make no effort to repay us nor offer any expression of gratitude, as they had overlooked Father as Master of Coin.” 

“It matters not, sister. I cannot save you if they come for your tongue for such words. If you cannot be agreeable before them, then I beg you to be indifferent.” Your brother pleaded, but you only brushed him off as your wheelhouse finally halted by the castle gates. You glanced toward the small opening scattered along the walls of the wheelhouse and saw Lord Ashford standing with his house to greet you and your brother. When the doors opened, your brother was quick to disembark and held out his hand to assist you. However, when you met the gray, muddy ground, you halted and gave him an unimpressed look. You bit your tongue as it took a moment before your coachman finally placed down a velvet rug so your slippers would not be rendered muddied. 

“Thank you for hosting us, Lord Ashford.” You hear your brother greet the old lord. You paid no mind to the pleasantries exchanged as you let your eyes roam the drab land and the smoke-filled tents by the field. You examined the men and women present. Drunken lords, blushing whores, guarded knights, and a clueless-looking giant of a man who curiously and shamelessly looked upon your newly arrived party. 

You met his clear blue eyes from a distance, with great interest and caution behind them. You gave him an unimpressed look and raised your brow at him in question. You almost let out a laugh as he suddenly tripped, and looked back at you with fear and embarrassment in his eyes. You removed your gaze from the man as you felt your brother place his hand at the small of your back to follow your hosts inside the walls of the keep. 

However, before you could take another step, the distant sound of a horn and the gallop of horses made everyone cease in their tracks. “My lord, Prince Baelor is nearing.” You heard a squire's call, and you turned to your brother. “Please, my lord, my lady, join me in welcoming the princes. Your house has always been a great ally to House Targaryen,” You heard Lord Ashford practically beg. You rolled your eyes as your brother obliged, the two of you standing by the lord’s left as you waited for royalty to arrive. 

You stood in utter boredom as another round of pleasantries was exchanged once House Targaryen arrived. You watched as Prince Baelor turned to your brother, a shine of recognition in his eyes as his brother, Prince Maekar, held a look of contempt that almost mirrored yours. “My, how the young lion cub had grown,” You hear the eldest prince say as he strode closer to your brother. “My prince.” Your brother bowed, and it took a moment for you to curtsy as your attention was briefly caught when you saw a glimpse of the clueless giant you locked eyes with earlier speak with another pale-haired prince. 

“Your sister, I presume?” You hear Prince Baelor question as you straighten your back, feeling a different set of blue eyes upon you. You glanced behind the eldest prince and saw his princeling son looking in your direction. “My prince,” You said with a bow of your head, turning away your gaze from the mud-haired prince. “A spitting image of your mother in her youth. If not, prettier,” The prince complimented, and you obliged him with a small, albeit forced smile. The moment the prince passed you and your brother, the pleasing smile on your lips quickly disappeared. You feel as your brother turned to follow Lord Ashford, the Targaryen prince, you were to follow suit, but your attempt to take another step was once again disrupted. 

“The Golden Beauty of the realm,” You hear a voice utter the title they had bestowed upon you. You raised your gaze and locked eyes with deep violet orbs. You glanced behind you to see that your brother had already entered the castle walls. You returned your gaze upon the prince, high of cheekbones and of self-worth, too, you wagered. 

“My prince,” You reluctantly curtsied, narrowing your gaze as you watched his violet gaze look upon you assessingly. “Tell me, did your lord father pay for men to call you such titles?” You feel a scoff leave your parted lips at his words. Gods how you wished that your brother had not left for there was no one to hinder you if you said a word beyond bounds.

“Unfortunately, no, my prince. Seeing that many debtors had still not paid my house, my father could not put aside coin to pay men to bestow me such titles.” You boldly said, watching as the teasing look in the prince’s eye turned cold at your words. He was quick, you must admit; already aware of what you were pertaining to. It was your turn to pass your gaze upon his frame, looking almost pitifully as you guards seemed to be more well-dressed than a prince of the realm. His cloak may be velvet, but it looked second-rate when compared to the pure, scarlet velvet your guards wore as capes.

You toyed with the ruby pendant that rested upon your chest as you watched the prince clench his jaw. He parted his lips to speak, but when no sound came out, you smirked and once again curtsied before him. “Good day, my prince.” You said, and quickly turned on your heel and headed inside the castle walls.

“Brother, he had insulted me. What had you expected me to do? Fawn over him?” You questioned your brother as you shared the unpleasant encounter you had with one of the King’s grandsons. “No. I expect you to say nothing! Such insolence would not be tolerated, especially by the crown.” You rolled your eyes at your brother’s fretting. “He is the mere second son of the king’s youngest son; what power does he wield?” 

“It matters not! He is a Targaryen— a dragon. You are lucky that he did not strike you for your words.” You shook your head. “He practically called me grotesque, brother! You dare scold me for defending myself?” You asked incredulously. Your pride still recovering from the blow the prince had inflicted. 

“You are overreacting, sister.” Your brother said more softly, and you raised a brow at him. “Are you taking his side?” You argued, and your brother quickly shook his head. “No! Just— just be more cautious, sister. Avoid the princes, I beg of you. Father is a fortnight’s ride away. I stand alone in defending you if the prince decides to retaliate for your words. A dragon is more ferocious than lions.” He sighed, but you, of course, disagreed once more.

“You forget, there are no more dragons left in this world. We lions are the only great predators left.” 

Gold had always been prized more than silver. The moment the prince saw golden locks that glimmered under the sun and striking scarlet skirts and cloaks against the grey ground, he understood that Lannisters were present. They had always said that Targaryens are closer to gods than men. But the age of dragons had long been over, and with the mountain of gold their house had, the Lannisters were the closest thing to gods men could be.

Prince Aerion had heard tale after tale of Lord Lannister’s daughter; the court often sang her songs, curious and desperate to catch a glimpse of her so-called golden beauty. He detested such chatter. He believed such praises should not be wasted on an ordinary lady but rather be reserved for royalty, for the blood of the dragon. However, he must admit, none of his sisters nor cousins were comely enough to earn such titles. 

When the prince saw the almost displeased expression on your truly comely face and the way you offered fictitious smiles to his uncle, he was amused. But when he heard your sly comment about his house’s physical shortcomings, that amusement was quick to dissipate. “Beware, cousin, the lion has fangs, as well as claws.” Prince Aerion heard his cousin, Prince Valarr, muse as he passed him, following along the tracks of the lady who dared to say such impertinent things to a prince of the realm. 

As the day went on, you accompanied your brother as he toured the grounds where tents were raised, and lords had littered. You two were accompanied by one of your guards, a parasol above your head raised by his left hand, and a sword in his right. You had raised a silk cloth doused in your perfume to your nose, the smell of earth and men unsettling your senses. You ignored the others who gawked at you as you passed, paying no mind as you heard them frown at your obvious discomfort at being present in such a filth-ridden place. 

You and your brother had ceased walking as he spoke to some lord, and you let your eyes wander around when a holler of screams caught your attention. You strayed away from your brother and walked with your guard to where a pulling contest had just been won. The same giant of a man you had seen earlier was present and had won the victory for his side. It made you curious about how a man could be so large; you began to think that perhaps one of his parents was an actual giant. But giants were simply fables, and if they were not, certainly you would have heard tell of one siring a son with a mortal. 

“Who is that?” You hear him ask, your gaze turned from him, but your ears are listening keenly. You could not see who he spoke to, but as you heard the high-pitched voice, you wagered it was the bale child you saw a glimpse of. “Lady Lannister. They call her the Golden Beauty of Casterly Rock.” 

“Well, she is pretty,” You hear the man say, his voice low and slow. “She is. But I hear she’s vain as well.” You pursed your lips at the words, however true it was. They say vanity is a sin, but you had always seen it as a blessing, for vanity is only bestowed upon those who have comely enough faces to have such claims. You walked on, not wanting to hear another comment about you, but as you aimed to return to your brother’s side, you saw two princes present.

You once again locked eyes with Prince Aerion. A calculated look in his violet orbs as you approached. “Sister, there you are.” You hear your brother call, a tone of nervousness in his voice, as you were once again face to face with the prince that you had offended earlier that day. “My lady,” You hear Prince Valarr greet, offering a nod of his head as you quickly curtsied before him, Prince Aerion watching in displeasure as to how your guard dipped lower for your parasole to follow lest you be exposed to the harsh noon sun. 

You had done your best to ignore the other prince as your brother, and Prince Valarr was consumed in the conversation of their own. But even in silence, you could feel that the prince was not ready to let the earlier matter to rest. He looked like a man who would not easily bend when insulted, but he did not know you were all but the same. 

You were ready to stray away from the group again, to find any distraction in such a subdued place, but when the gigantic man made its way to where you stood, aiming to return inside the tent you stood outside of, you paused. “What are you?” You suddenly questioned as you caught his eyes. The boy he spoke to earlier is now gone. 

“P—pardon, m’lady?” He asked, eyes wide and stuttering, which made an amused smirk come to your lips. You feel the eyes of Prince Aerion burning a hole in the side of your face as the large man approaches the two of you. When he did, you raised your perfumed, soaked cloth back to your nose as he smelt of ale, dirt, and damp. “Was your father a giant?” You then asked, voice partly muffled as you covered your nose with the cloth, and Aerion had almost wished he had brought one too, as he was subjected to holding his breath whenever the wind changed or picked up. “No, m’lady.” 

“What’s your name then?” You then asked, watching as the man cautiously glanced towards the prince who stood silently by your right. The same prince who had mistaken him for a stable boy earlier that day. “I… I am Ser Duncan the Tall, m’lady,” He said proudly, but it looked false at the uncertainty of demeanour. 

“Ser Duncan?” You questioned, and he eagerly nodded and straightened his back. “Well, knighthood has fallen on sad days,” You could not help but mutter, unknowing that your exact words were already told to him by the prince by your side. The prince’s brows rose in surprise as you echoed his words from earlier, watching as the knight bowed once more and left. 

“Perhaps it was his mother who was the giant,” You say to your guard, whose gaze followed Ser Duncan. He nodded at your words, and you finally removed the cloth that covered your nose. Prince Aerion was silent, but he was rather intrigued by your words. He had never encountered a lady who was as brash with her words as you. And he had never met someone who was clever enough to utter the same exact insult as him. When his stare was finally met, you gave him a passing look before walking off as well. Leaving him more curious than annoyed. 

When night came, and a round of tournying took place, Prince Aerion found himself seated in the host’s box, his violet eyes keenly on the lady who had dared to speak the last word earlier that morning. You made your way with your brother as you sat behind the princes of the realm, feeling a pair of eyes watching you constantly, even as you took a seat behind the owner of such a gaze. 

You had sworn earlier to your brother that an occurrence that happened in the morning shall never occur again, but the prince’s gaze was persistent. He even glanced behind to catch a further glimpse of you. You pursed your lips as you did not know what more was to come. He cannot seriously be still bitter about your earlier encounter. And if he did, he had no right to, for he had cast the first insult. He did not even have the decency to cast his slight cleverly as you had. 

When a horn was blown, the gallops of horses were loud as the knights readied their stances. But before the joust could take place, you hear the yell of a man atop a horse with a raw fish's head between his teeth. “I see the rivermen are still as barbaric as ever,” You muttered to your brother, who snickered at your words, but you failed to see that a silver prince had a smirk upon his lips. 

When the jousting had ended, you and your brother were invited to dine with the host, along with his other guests. You wished to excuse yourself, to let your brother think of some inane reason as to why you could not attend, but alas, he begged for your attendance, and you were still feeling an ounce of benevolence, so you obliged him. However, you quickly regretted your decision, as they had made you sit next to Prince Aerion. You two were far removed from the conversations made by the others, both too busy stewing in their judgment of the dishes served by Lord Ashford and how weak-tasting the wine was. 

“Forgive me if I have the wrong impression, my lord, but it would seem my cousin and your sister are quite similar,” Prince Valarr whispered to the young Lord Lannister who sat by his side, their eyes upon their kin who sat opposite them. Your brother glanced at you two, the displeased and bored expression upon your comely, striking faces. “They do say that the pretty ones are always temperamental, my prince.” Your brother jested, and when the two of them exchanged boisterous laughter, you and Prince Aerion cast your contempt-filled gazes upon your kin before exchanging a quick glance just to witness how you both mirrored each other’s expressions.

That was rather odd, you thought. You’ve never met another who had displayed their displeasure so openly, especially not a prince of the realm who was expected to be at least amiable when surrounded by others. 

“I could have your tongue for your words,” the prince suddenly spoke, his low voice only meant for you. You let out a breath as it only took him a day to finally think of a reply. “There’s the knife, your highness, take it.” You whispered, leaning ever so slightly for him to hear your words. You met his eyes, expecting a look of anger in the gaze of ancient Valeria, but you raised your brow as you saw intrigue and amusement behind them. 

The prince studied you for a moment, your gaze unyielding. He lowered his eyes as he caught the slight heave of your chest and the way your ruby necklace reflected the candlelight, making it look bright and aflame. “A lion with a cat’s tongue… how typical.” He mused as he momentarily leaned closer to you to snap at a squire to refill his chalice while motioning for yours as well. “Better that than a dragon without wings.” Prince Aerion wished that the reaction brought forth by your words was ire, but as he shifted in his seat when he caught the smug smirk on your lips and felt his trousers tightening, he thought that perhaps your tongue was better suited for another task rather than being cut off. 

He had never met a woman who diperaged him so openly. Perhaps because the others who dared say the wrong word before him were quickly rid of. He could order the same fate for you, but he’d rather not, seeing that Ashford offered no actual entertainment and was severely lacking comely-looking women. The prince was bored and displeased out of his wits that he’d rather hear the scathing remarks that left your lips than the obliging but empty words uttered by the others present.  

“Tell me, my prince. Why do they call you Brightflame?” You then asked, as you pushed around the mush on your plate, that they had served you. You cast your eyes upon the prince once more, him contemplating your question, trying to deduce if it was brought out by sincere curiosity or your intention to cast another sly insult. “It is simple, my lady. I am a dragon in the skin of a human. A god among men.” 

You bit your tongue at his arrogance, wanting to laugh at how sure he was with his words. Instead, you only hummed and raised your cup to your lips, never letting your gaze break even after a droplet of wine dribbled from your cup. “They do say that the brighter the flame, the quicker it is to burn out.” You said after a moment, dabbing the corner of your lips with a cloth. The prince’s gaze lingered a bit too long. He was so distracted by yoru wine stained lips that it took him a moment to comprehend your words. 

You raised your brow in challenge as you saw his expression harden. “Do you still wish for my tongue, my prince? I believe you still have a moment to take it before dessert is served.” You whispered lowly, both of your faces threading closer to each other so no one else could hear your words. “Believe me, my lady, I shall have more than your tongue.” Aerion had expected fear to come as he said his threat, but as you only smirked further and you partly raised your glass to him, he felt the same tightening in his trousers, for how could there be a lady as comely and pretty as well as sadistic and mad as you?

“Has anyone told you that your helmet resembles a rooster’s crown, my prince?” You mused as you exited your given chambers just in time to be met with the prince, who seemingly waited for you in the halls. He had already worn his armor as he was to take part in the first challenge, his oddly shaped helm tucked in his arm. 

“No. And if they were foolish enough to say as such, I’ll make certain to strike them down.” The prince said as he looked upon your face that was aglow with the rising sun. Gold does glimmer in the most catching way. 

“Your helm resembles a rooster’s crown.” You said plainly, watching keenly to see what the prince’s reaction would be. “Do you have a death wish, my lady?” The prince could not help but ask as you two walked side by side towards the gates, people excited by the first day of challenges. “No, my prince. I am simply fond of testing my bounds. And it would seem bounds stretch further with you than most,” You glanced and caught as the prince licked his full lips. 

“Will you be watching me today?” Prince Aerion instead asked. “It would seem I’ve no choice.” You answered and watched as a malicious smirk filled with mischief came to his lips. “Then you shall witness what shall happen when dares provoke a dragon.” The prince paused in his steps to face you fully, “A dragon ought not to lose, my lady. Best be reminded of that.” 

The first challenge ended quickly as it began. You had watched from a distance as the prince had his striking violet eyes before you as he rode out into the tournament grounds. You smirked at him in teasing as he halted his horse before the box you sat upon, your earlier comment regarding his helm proven right, and that only fanned the bright flame that consumed the prince. 

You watched through gritted teeth as the prince drove his lance into the neck of his opponent’s horse, a sadistic laugh from him echoing through the silent field as the other knight yelled in agony when his fallen horse broke his leg. The prince held up his helm’s face plate, revealing his bemused expression at his opponent’s fate, before quickly searching for your eyes. The prince had believed he finally proven to you what kind of beast you had been provoking, but as the screams of the smallfolk came along with the rock thrown and ricocheted off his helm, his smile faltered. 

You laughed quietly in your seat as the prince retreated and was saved by the Kingsguard when the smallfolk began to riot at his unsportsmanlike behaviour. You could only be impatient as to what your next interaction with the prince shall bring. 

“I wasn’t aware that horses are your opponents during these types of tournaments. However, I suppose the country has some rather queer customs,” You mused as you were later joined by the prince inside castle walls, luncheon being served, but not many attended, and it was only you and he seated at the great table. 

Perhaps you should have watched your tongue. You knew better than to think the prince made empty threats, but a part of you greatly believed that he would inflict upon you no harm. You did not know you believed as such, but you were positive with such thoughts. Besides, if the prince truly wished to harm you or have your tongue, he would have done so a day ago. He was erratic in nature, impatient as well. If it were another who offended him time and time again, he would not wait a second before having them flogged the second they finished their words. 

“You shall suffer a worse fate than what had befell that horse if you do not hold your tongue, my lady,” The prince said, and you hummed along the tune a minstrel played near the table. “You say that, but I’m beginning to believe that you are not a man of your word, my prince. At least when it comes to me.” You boldly said, and the moment the words left your lips, the minstrel ceased at his playing. 

The prince followed your gaze as a sudden frown adorned your face. “Did I order you to cease playing?” You snapped, annoyed as your favored part of the tune was cut short because the minstrel was trembling in fear for what you dared utter to the prince. Prince Aerion smirked as he caught the fear in the minstrel’s eyes double at the way he was addressed by you. “A—apoliges, my lady,” He bowed and quickly returned playing his lute, but you only rolled your eyes. “From the beginning,” You ordered and finally returned your gaze back to the prince who had clear amusement in his eyes and dared you say attraction. “You would do well in court,” The prince could not help but muse, completely forgetting the offence you had uttered. “I know,” The smirk on the prince’s lips only grew.  

Night was quick to come again. But instead of another feast in the halls of Lord Ashford’s home, you had decided to roam the camp. You found yourself herded by a band of smallfolk into a large tent, where benches were placed, and a stage was set. “Best take a seat, my lady, the show is about to start.” A stranger implored you to take a seat nearest to the stage. 

You hear cheers as a woman who was too tall appears wearing a knight’s armor. You hate to admit it, but the show meant for mere smallfolk was rather impressive, especially the dragon puppet they had created. The tent was filled with loud, boisterous cheers, but as you feel the burn of a familiar pair of violet eyes, silence was quick to grow. All had grown aware of the presence of a dragon prince, except the puppeteer, who drove her sword into the side of the dragon’s neck, where red petals sprouted out, but no cheers erupted as all were petrified to see the reaction of Prince Aerion. 

You sighed heavily as chaos was quick to commence. You stood by the side as the prince raged at the show. Declaring it was treason to depict dragons and such. You caught his eyes as he was straying towards the performer who drove her sword into the puppet, violet eyes filled with rage, paused before you for a moment. “Now you shall see how a true dragon is, my lady.” He gritted out before he let out his rage once more. 

You rarely felt pity for others, but as you saw the prince place his anger towards the performer, his anger that he could not pour out on you, you felt guilt. You could not even do anything. Could not even call for a guard to make the prince cease because who in their right mind would go against Prince Aerion? Luckily, your question was soon answered when the same man whose mother you suspected was a giant barged into the tent and promptly threw around and punched the prince with no care for his life. 

It took four guards to restrain Ser Duncan the Tall, and you debated if it was even enough. “Why did you throw your life away for this whore?” The prince questioned, as he was confident that the guards had a hold on the simple hedge knight. His face was bloodied, his lips cut with a wound, but he still looked annoyingly handsome, you thought. 

“You’ve loosened one of my teeth,” The prince sniffled as he spat out his blood. He glanced towards the side of the stage where you stood, “So we’ll start by breaking out all of yours,” He added and moved to where you stood. Like a moth to flame, you threaded near him as he sat laxly on the stage, as the guards tried to take a hold of Ser Duncan, who thrashed in their grasp once more. 

“Had you enjoyed that, my lady?” The prince asked quietly as he studied your expression, looking upon his bloody face. “A bit too bloody and bony for my liking, but very well, it’s more exciting to watch than Lord Tully eating another fish’s head.” You replied, and Prince Aerions could not help but let out a laugh at your words, ignoring that the knight was positioned to have his teeth knocked out. Prince Aerion had half the mind to leave the tent without seeing the knight be knocked out toothless as he recognized the mischief in your eyes, for it mirrored his.   

However, as the familiar voice of his youngest brother rang out inside the quiet tent, he sighed and peeled his gaze away from you. Perhaps a dragon could wait for a moment longer before laying its claim on a lion. 

[eraenaa]

Just Like Heaven

Inspired by the song Just Like Heaven by The Cure

Aemond Targaryen x Lady Reader

Synopsis: In his last moments, the only thing Aemond could think of was you— the only one he believed to feel just like heaven. 

Warnings: Romantic Tension, Angst with Bittersweet Ending, Major Character Deaths, No Smut, Not Proofread

Word Count: 6,182

Prince Aemond Targaryen never bothered himself with the members of the court. He always believed them to be dispensable— useless, and they were only bootlicking his family just so they could rise up in ranks. And as much as he loathed the courtiers, he could not bestow such sentiments upon you. 

You did not bother with brownnosing the royal members of his family. Of course, you still showed due respect, but not once had you crossed the line or presented yourself as too familiar with them in the hope of being in their good graces. Aemond had always felt suffocated as he and his kin were being trailed and surrounded by courtiers who tried earnestly to catch at least an ounce of recognition, but you did not. You had always made certain to place a respectable distance between you and them— a distance that Aemond was very much appreciative of. 

He had witnessed that no matter how Aegon would try to invade your personal space, you would often step back or remove yourself from such circumstances. He noted that even if Helaena would converse with you in the gardens, you dared not to stand too closely to the princess, whose ladies-in-waiting often crowded her. Even when Aemond was in the library wanting an hour of silence, you would not occupy the chair close to him—an action that senseless courtiers would often do. No, you kept your distance— a distance that Aemond had to dissolve himself because he could not deny the pull he felt towards you. 

He tried to be discreet about it at first. Often showing up in places he knew you would frequent, maintaining the respectable and wary distance between you two. But he would make excuses to linger longer than necessary, pretending to be absorbed in some book or idly scanning the fragrant blossoms in the gardens when in truth his attention was wholly fixed on you. When he passed you in the corridors, he would slow his pace ever so slightly, granting him a few precious moments in your presence. 

You did not notice. Or at least that is what he told himself. Certainly, he was discreet. It was his home, surely you would think it was just a mere coincidence. However, when he began to occupy the seat next to you in the library, muttering something about better light, and when he began to find reasons to walk you back from the gardens, speaking of some errand that conveniently matched your routines, even he could not sell himself in his so-called discretion. 

You never said anything regarding it. You only gave a nod and a small smile. Often indulged him with small talk, but only if he spoke first. And so, he continued on with his cautious way of dissolving the distance between you two. 

He then progressed to handing you books you had been searching for before you could even ask, claiming he had stumbled upon them. He would pause beside your house’s table in the great hall under the pretense of greeting another courtier, though his gaze would linger far too long on you. And sometimes, when the corridors were quiet and it was only the two of you walking side by side, his hand would brush yours—not enough to be called a touch, but enough to make him grow warm with possibility. 

In such moments, Aemond told himself he was still being cautious. But deep down, he knew he was already dismantling the careful distance you had placed between yourself and the royal family—brick by brick, moment by moment—until one day, there would be nothing left to separate you from him at all.

That day came sooner than he had hoped. It was in the library, a place that had quietly become yours as much as his. You were seated at your usual table, a book open before you, and when the prince entered, you instinctively looked up—just briefly—and that fleeting glance was enough to undo him. You gave a respectful bow of the head as he crossed the room without hesitation, his steps steady but unhurried, trying his best to appear uneager to be by your side when, in truth, he had been looking forward to this moment since first light.

He did not take the seat across from you this time. Instead, he settled beside you, close enough for his faint scent of leather and smoke to reach you and for your shoulders to brush. He said nothing at first, only letting the quiet settle between you. 

“That is the third time you are reading that book… do you not understand it, my lady?” He questioned quietly as his eye glanced towards you, your fingers trailing the pages of the old, tattered book. “No, I do… I am just fond of it, my prince.” You say softly, partly turning to your left to meet his eye. 

Prince Aemond’s gaze lingered on you, sharp and searching, as if weighing the truth of your words. “Fond of it?” he echoed, his voice low, almost curious. “Most who favor a book will read it once, perhaps twice. You…” His eye flicked briefly to the worn edges of the pages beneath your hand. “You treat it as though it holds some secret worth uncovering again and again.”

A small smile inched on your lips, the small action able to make the prince’s breath hitch. “Perhaps it does,” You say quietly and return your gaze to the book in your hands. You thought that perhaps that was the end of your conversation, but as you feel him lean closer, your shoulders pressing against one another, you bit the insides of your cheek as you feel your heart stutter. 

“And what secrets may that be, my lady?” The prince murmured, his eye flashing between you and the book in your hands. “The secret of heaven,” You say, watching as his brow raised ever so slightly. His head tilted the slightest bit, the faintest trace of intrigue pulling at his features. “And you believe you’ve found it in there?” His voice was quieter now, the kind of tone meant for words not meant to travel beyond the space between you.

Your eyes stayed on the page, though your voice betrayed a hint of amusement. “Perhaps, but I believe some things are not to be read, my prince. Only felt.” For a moment, he said nothing; the distant crackle of the library’s hearth filled the silence between you. You could feel his gaze on you, steady and unyielding, and it was enough to make you wonder if he was searching for more than just the meaning of your answer.

You expected him to speak once more, but as you hear his thoughtful hum, you try to return to your reading, and you catch the faintest movement from the corner of your eye. He had shifted, angling himself ever so slightly toward you, his arm now resting along the back of your chair as though staking a quiet claim over the space you occupied.

“I wonder,” he said at last, his voice low and measured, “if such things… once felt… can ever be forgotten.”

You turned the page slowly, letting the sound of the parchment fill the small pause before you answered. “Perhaps not,” you replied, keeping your tone calm, though his proximity to you was making it harder to ignore the way your pulse raced. “But that is the risk one takes, is it not? To feel something so strongly and accept that it might never leave you.”

There was a long beat of silence. You didn’t have to look at him to know he was still watching you, still searching, as though each word you spoke was another clue to something he wanted to uncover. “I believe it is,” You say, almost breathlessly. The prince hummed once more, catching the slight heave of your chest and how your fingers trembled as you turned a page. 

Aemond bit his lip, looking intently upon you, urging you to turn to him. But when you did not, the prince breathed out in slight defeat and returned to occupy his own space, having to settle that perhaps tomorrow was another day. 

When the hour grew later and the candles burned lower, you finally rose, closing your book with care. He looked up immediately, his eye catching yours for the briefest moment. There was no smile, no parting remark—only that steady, unreadable stare that seemed to hold something back, as though he feared it might spill over if given the chance.

You offered him a small nod, the same restrained courtesy you had always shown, before making your way toward the doors. You did not see the way his hand flexed slightly against the armrest as you passed, or the way his gaze followed until the doors closed behind you.

Left alone in the library, Aemond sat in the fading candlelight, jaw tight, breath slow, replaying every word and every glance in painstaking detail. Tomorrow, he told himself again. Tomorrow, he would not settle for only a piece of heaven you spoke of— tomorrow, he shall feel what heaven should be.

Prince Aemond stood rigidly in the banquet hall as a feast for his grandsire’s nameday commenced. He observed how the courtiers once again surrounded his kin like flocks, leeches that fed on empty words and false laughter. Their smiles were too wide, their bows too deep, their voices dripping with the same sickly sweetness he had despised since boyhood. It was a scene he had witnessed countless times, one he usually retreated away from. Tonight, however, he could not do such a thing, especially as you were present and were being surrounded by lords. 

The prince gritted his jaw as he saw that one lord had the gall to lean closer to you, but he smirked inwardly as he saw you promptly take a step back, eyes wandering about the room, and soon landed on him. Aemond stilled in his spot, feeling as his heart skipped a beat. You said naught a word, but by just one look from you, he was compelled to cross the hall and save you from the lords who tried to get familiar. 

You breathed out and pointed your gaze to the floor as you saw the prince make a beeline towards where you stood, his imposing demeanour quickly disarming the lords around you. You watched as all of them avoided the prince’s lone gaze, bowing and muttering their greetings. Usually, they would try to converse with the prince, or dare to meet his eye, but now… as they saw the overtly serious expression on his face, all they could do was look at their feet and swirl the wine in their glass. 

“A dance, my lady?” He asked quietly, eyeing the lords who seemed ready to state that they had reserved a dance with your first, but one look from the prince made them yield. You gave a small smile and nodded goodbye to the lords, letting your hand slip into the prince’s and letting him lead you to the sea of dancers. 

Aemond was feeling lightheaded; he was uncertain if it was because of the countless twirls he did or it was just because of your mere presence; he was leaning towards believing the latter. You stayed silent as you and the prince swayed, feeling dizzy as well, but you were certain it was because of the dance, as you had never been accustomed to the countless twirls. You barely recognized where you were by the end of it, but when you met the prince’s eye, lilac eye that turned alight in the moonlight, you realized you two had already crossed the open doors of the hall and he had led you to the gardens. 

“You looked miserable surrounded by those lords,” Aemond suddenly uttered, watching as the moonlight set you aglow, his breath catching in his throat as you let out a breath of a laugh and presented him with your smile. “Well, it was very kind of you to save me from their tedious company,” you replied, amusement lacing your voice.

Aemond’s lips twitched, not quite a smile but close enough for him. “It was not kindness,” he dared to say after a pause, his tone quieter now, almost cautious. “I simply could not stand there and watch them try to keep your attention.” You tilted your head slightly, studying him in the light of the pale moonlight. “And yet you replaced them with yourself. Should I be flattered or wary, my prince?” His gaze never wavered from yours. “Flattered,” he said without hesitation. “Always flattered.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The sounds of the banquet faded into the distance—the faint hum of music and laughter replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves in the night air. You could still feel the warmth of his hand in yours, even though the dance had ended, and he still did not let you go, your heart gave a small, traitorous stutter.

“You speak as if I should prefer your company to theirs,” you teased lightly, though your voice was softer than you intended. “I believe you already do,” Aemond murmured, stepping closer—not enough to startle you, but enough to make his presence fill the space between you. “I have had enough of the chase, my lady,” Aemond murmured, stepping closer to you, who was aglow with the moonlight, looking ever more ethereal in his eye. 

“I… I do not think I understand what you mean, my prince,” You say cautiously, even though you completely knew what he meant. Aemond hummed and tucked in a stray lock of your hair, your breath hitching as you felt his touch against your skin. You two had been in each other’s constant presence for moons on end, but not once had you actually felt each other’s skin. 

His fingers lingered just long enough for the warmth of them to seep into you before he let the strand fall back into place. His eye held yours, unblinking, as if he were weighing whether to push further or let the moment breathe. “I believe you do, understand, my lady,” he said finally, voice low but certain.

Your lips parted slightly, though no reply came. You weren’t sure if it was because you truly had no words, or because the closeness of him—his scent, his gaze, the faint heat radiating from his body—made speaking feel like an impossible task.

“I have watched you,” Aemond continued, his tone softer now, but no less intent. “In the gardens. In the library. In the court. Always at a distance. I thought it was… enough. That the space between us kept things simple and enough for me.” He shook his head, just slightly. “But it wasn’t. I do not believe it ever was.” Your pulse quickened at the raw honesty in his words, and you maintained your composure, even if you felt as if you could waver at any time from his words. 

Prince Aemond’s gaze stayed locked on yours, the air between you thick in anticipation, charged with something unspoken yet known. You took in a breath as you felt him cup your cheek, his callous touch, gentle only for you. Your eyes fluttered as you looked upon his lone lilac orb, his thin lips parted slightly. 

“I thought I could be content watching from a distance,” he said, his voice quiet but certain. “But that could never be enough.” You drew in a slow breath, the weight of his touch making it harder to keep your heartbeat calm. The noise of the banquet had faded, the cool night air and his touch sending gooseflesh to rise on your skin.

“I do not wish for the space between us any longer,” he continued, his hold firm but not forceful, as though daring you to pull away. And yet, you didn’t. You stayed still. If anything, you leaned in closer and met his lips. His breath caught against your mouth, the faintest hesitation passing between you before he returned the kiss, cautious at first, as though testing if either of your sensibilities should return. But it never did. His hand at your cheek shifted, fingers curling lightly at your jaw to hold you still— to hold you near.

The feel of him was overwhelming, your touches dissolving whatever careful restraint you two had exercised. You could taste the faint trace of wine on his lips, feel the steady thrum of his breath as it mingled with yours. When you finally parted, it was only by the smallest distance, your foreheads touching, noses brushing. His gaze was fixed on you, unreadable save for the faint, unguarded haze in his eye. 

“Would… would it be awfully toward of me to admit that I have waited for you to do that for the longest time?” You questioned, your cheeks blooming with color, as you uttered such words. 

Prince Aemond’s lips curved—a ghost of a smile that softened the sharp lines of his face. “Then I regret making you wait so long,” he murmured, his words meant only for you. You huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh, your hand still resting against his chest where you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath the leather. “And here I thought you enjoyed keeping me at a distance.”

His gaze sharpened, though there was no trace of coldness in it. “I never enjoyed it,” he said, almost fiercely. “I endured it… because I thought it was the only way to have you near.” Your breath caught, your fingers curling slightly into his doublet. “And now?”

“Now,” he said, leaning in until his lips brushed the corner of your mouth, making your heart grow erratic, “I have no intention of letting that distance return.” The sounds of the banquet were gone entirely now, swallowed by the quiet of the gardens. You realized, with a strange and steady certainty, that he meant every word, and that somewhere along the way, you had stopped wanting the space between you as well.

You barely slept that night— if at all. But even if you were deprived of your slumber, you could not help but feel invigorated for the following day. The words and actions of the prince haunted you even in the dead of night. At times, you feel as if it were only just a dream, but as his touch still lingered on your skin, and as you could still recognize the faint taste of him, you knew it was real. 

You went on with your day, knowing that at some point, you would be met with him. He often just appeared by your side, and you waited for him in anticipation. However, today, you were eager to see him once more, especially as you remembered his words. “I do not wish for the space between us any longer.”

You walked along the halls of the keep, heading to the gardens, expecting that the prince, too, would arrive momentarily, but he did not. Then you went to the library, knowing the prince would often frequent it during noon, but you read alone that day. 

As the hours passed, you could not help but feel scorn building quietly inside you, though you tried to push it down. It was foolish, you told yourself—petty, even to feel slighted over his absence. And yet, the memory of the night before made it impossible not to notice the emptiness at your side.

By late afternoon, the light through the high windows had softened into gold, and still there had been no sign of him. You found yourself lingering in corridors you knew he often passed, slowing your steps near the council chambers, wandering the upper walkways in the faint hope of catching sight of silver hair among the crowd below. But every glance met with the vaguely familiar faces of courtiers. 

You sighed heavily, and at that moment, your mind was made up. You were played. You straightened your back, forcing your steps to quicken as you made for the great halls where the court jesters performed, wanting to distract your distraught mind. You recalled he warmth in the prince’s voice, the certainty in his touch, the way he had looked at you beneath the moonlight—it had all been nothing more than a game to him. You cursed yourself for allowing the thought of him to follow you from the moment you’d opened your eyes that morning.

You took in a deep breath as you entered the hall, merriment in all who gathered and watched the performance, but you, however, stood at the back of the room. Silent and gaze afar. You were picking at your fingers, heart burning with blooming anger, when you suddenly felt a familiar presence beside you. You didn’t need to look to know who it was. The air seemed to shift with him, the weight of his presence settling over you and making your once-pitted heart stutter.

“My lady,” Prince Aemond’s voice came low, almost careful, cautious that if he spoke too loudly, he might scare you off. You kept your gaze forward, watching the jesters tumble and bow, their bright clothes a blur as you could not focus on anything. “Your Highness,” you returned evenly, though your voice lacked the warmth it had held for him just the night before.

He studied you for a moment; the sharpness in his gaze matched the rigidness of your frame that refused to turn to him. “You weren’t in the gardens today,” he said, as though it were an accusation. “And you were not in the library,” you replied without missing a beat, finally glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Or anywhere else I might have expected to see you.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I was called away,” he said simply, as if expecting that his grandsire’s orders that he venture to town earlier that day would rebuild the space between you that he had just dissolved. You gave a faint, humorless smile and turned your attention back to the performance. “Of course you were.”

Aemond’s head tilted slightly, and his brow raised in question, as though trying to read what you weren’t saying aloud. “I have told you, my lady,” he murmured, stepping close enough that his shoulder brushed with yours once more, “I have no wish for distance between us.”

The sincerity in his tone made your fingers still, but you forced yourself to remain as you were, eyes fixed ahead. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t vanish after saying so.” His jaw clenched at your words, but instead of defending himself, he only said, “Walk with me when this nonsense ends.” It wasn’t a request—it never was with him. And despite your ill feelings just moments ago, you already knew you would. You stayed silent with the prince by your side, feeling as he inched closer to you with each moment that passed. 

Aemond kept glancing towards you as you silently watched the performance, your arms wrapped around your body, and your lips between your teeth. It took every ounce of restraint from the prince not to reach out and pull your arms away, to feel your hands in his again as they had been the night before. But something in your guarded disposition told him that if he moved too quickly, you might slip from his grasp entirely.

Instead, he let the minutes pass, his gaze fixed more on you than the jesters, catching the way the flickering torchlight set you aglow. Every so often, you could feel his eyes on you, that steady, unblinking attention that always seemed to make your heartbeat in your ears even if he did nothing at all.

When applause sounded out for the final act, you exhaled quietly, almost in relief, though you didn’t miss the way his hand came to rest lightly at the small of your back as the crowd began to disperse. His touch was steady and guided you towards an exit, leaving the others behind, just as you two had preferred it.

“I did not mean to make you doubt me,” Aemond said finally, his voice low, caution heavy in his tone. You kept your gaze ahead, but your voice was steady. “And yet you did.” You dared say as the pang in your chest throbbed ever so lightly. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and stopped in his steps, taking hold of your hand to pull you to him. “Then allow me to prove otherwise.”

You did not even have enough time to reply as you feel his lips against yours once more. You let out a little whimper at the unexpectedness of it, letting your hands rest on the prince’s shoulders as his hold was around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

Aemond feels your fingers curl around his shoulders, lips staggering and wanting air. He parted reluctantly, but could not help but place chaste and quick kisses upon your lips as you tried to regain composure. “I hope you do not think that you could just kiss me and believe that I shall forget your absence today,” you murmured against his lips, your tone sharper than you intended, though your hands remained steady on his shoulders.

Prince Aemond’s eye searched yours, his breath warm as it mingled with your own. “No,” he said quietly, “I do not think you will forget. But I hope you will believe me when I tell you it was never my wish to be away from you.”

Your heart stuttered at the sincerity in his voice, but you forced yourself not to yield so easily— especially at just words. “Words are easily spoken, my prince,” you replied, your gaze steady despite the faint tremor you felt in your chest. “It is what follows them that matters.” A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Then watch me,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your waist before he finally, reluctantly, let you go.

You swallowed, the space between you feeling strangely unnatural now. “Shall we return?” he asked, his voice calmer, but his gaze still holding that same intent that had haunted you since the night in the gardens. Your eyes flickered to his outstretched hand, hesitatingly placing yours upon it, and feeling his steady and tight hold. 

“Please?” Aemond heard you plead once more, your voice pronounced in the silent library that housed dusty books and the two of you. You were seated on the floor near the fire, the prince lying restfully upon your lap as he held a book and read aloud to you. 

“Please what, my lady?” The prince teased, chewing on his cheek as he heard a huff leave your lips, and your hand rested on his chest, clenched around the metal button. “Show me how you’ve done such tricks,” You say, voice barely above a whisper, cheeks turning scarlet as he had made you plead and plead. 

“I do not believe I understand what you mean when you say tricks, my lady,” He teased further, and you let out a heavy sigh. Aemond was biting back his smirk as he heard your heavy breath, but when you suddenly stood, the mirth in him died. “I think I shall retire for the day,” You say, but the prince was quick to take hold of your hand and pull you to him. “Come now, I was only teasing,” He said lowly, his touch returning to your cheek, and you rolled your eyes and shook your head.

However, as you feel him dip lower, your noses brush once more, and you feel your heart beat slower. “Is this what you were referring to, hm?” Aemond questioned as he placed a kiss on the corner of your lips, catching as your eyes fluttered each time his lips met your skin. “N-no,” you say breathlessly. 

Aemond hummed once more, his hold on your cheek threading downwards to the nape of your neck. “Is this it?” He asked again, his lips on your neck, hearing you let out a heavy breath and stifled laugh because he knew all too well you were ticklish. “No,” Aemond bit his lip as he heard a smile in your voice. 

“Ah, you mean this,” He said, feigning discovery before he let his lips meet yours. You let out a satisfied hum as you feel his tongue brush against your bottom lip. Aemond relished the moan that left your lips as you parted them and welcomed him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, feeling as the prince’s lips curved into a smile against yours. 

When you parted, Aemond looked upon you with a lazy grin. “Is that what you mean, my lady?” He asked, and you bit your cheek as you looked upon him bashfully. You need not say a word, because you knew that he was perfectly aware that it was indeed what you meant. 

“If you keep kissing me as such, my prince, I might just run away with you,” You say with a grin, watching as he shuts his lone eye and rests his forehead against yours. “Do not tempt me… I might just truly steal you away,” Aemond hummed and returned to cup your cheek, feeling as you leaned closer to his touch. “Away from the court and their prying eyes and mindless chatter… away from those lords who think they deserve even a moment of your time,” he finished, his voice low and edged with possessiveness.

You let out a soft laugh, though there was a warmth in your chest at his words. “And where would you take me, my prince?” you asked, your tone light but your eyes searching his. “Somewhere far from here,” he murmured without hesitation. “Where no one would dare interrupt us. Where I could have you entirely to myself.”

Your breath caught at the unflinching certainty in his voice. For a moment, you allowed yourself to imagine it—walking through some distant keep or sunlit field, with no courtiers, no whispered gossip, no politics to dictate the space between you. Only him.

“It sounds just like heaven,” you said quietly, and Aemond hummed. “You are heaven, my angel.” At those words, your knees weakened, and you could not help but kiss him once more. 

“Where are you taking me?” Aemond questioned as you tugged at his arm, as you two threaded the path less traveled by in the gardens. “Heaven,” was all you said, and that made the prince’s intrigue pique. 

Aemond looked around to where you had led him, not another soul to be found but just the two of you, just as you both preferred it. He watched in anticipation as you passed by a great, tall bush, your eyes gleaming with something close to mischief. You slipped past the hedge, glancing over your shoulder to ensure he followed, and stepped into a space where the gardens opened into a hidden hollow, a pond resting at its center. Sunlight glistened on the water, bathing it in a warm, golden glow. The surface was still save for the lazy drift of lily pads, and a willow tree’s leaves kissed the water’s surface. 

Prince Aemond stepped in behind you, his boots against the soft grass. His eye moved over the secluded scene, and for a moment, he said nothing at all. The sunlight touched his silver hair, catching faint glints of gold, though he seemed unaware of it—his gaze was fixed entirely on the pond, then on you. “This,” you said, moving closer to the water’s edge, “is my heaven. No courtiers, no whispers—only this.” You crouched slightly, trailing your fingertips across the surface, sending small ripples across the mirror-like reflection of the sky. “Few know it exists. Fewer still have ever been here.”

His head tilted slightly, his expression unreadable. “And yet you brought me.” He said, voice in a trance, looking upon you with something you could not decipher. “I did,” you replied, looking up at him with a hint of a smile.

Aemond smiled and pulled you to him, wrapping his arms around you, and you wrapped around his neck like it was second nature. “You know… I often bathe here,” You whispered against his lips, watching as his lone lilac eye darkened the moment you uttered such words. “You do?” He asked after a moment, voice deeper. “I do.” You confirmed. 

Aemond watched as your gaze lowered, your hand trailing down to his chest, fingers toying with the button of his leather doublet. “And I was thinking… perhaps you could join me this afternoon,” You whispered, heartbeat erratic as you feared the prince might not appreciate your forwardness. But you had thought of it as a last resort to distract him from the looming threat of war. 

Aemond’s eye flickered, looking intently upon yours. “I… I do not know how to swim,” He admitted, swallowing thickly as he felt lightheaded by your words. “That is easy enough to change, my prince,” You say and step aside. Aemond swallowed thickly at your next actions, feeling all the restraint in him disappear as he watched you begin to unlace your dress. 

He took in a shaky breath as you were left in your shift, the sunlight casting you aglow. You turned back at him, raising your brow as he only stood there unmovingly. “Well? Are you waiting for me to undress you, my prince?” You boldly said, and Aemond shut his eye tightly at your words. “What are you doing to me, angel?” He gritted out, and he heard you laugh. You stepped closer to him, your fingers slowly undoing the buttons of his doublet. “Come now, my prince… I did not wish to say anything, but you reek of dragon— I believe a bath will do you good,” You whispered, watching as his eye opened once more, the lilac you had grown to admire now dark as indigo. 

Aemond could not even recall how it all happened, one moment you two were standing upon the lush grass, then the next, you were in the water. You clining upon him, lips tangled, and the only thing separating you was the thin, soaked fabric of your shift. “Gods,” Aemond could not help but breathe out, his head tilting to the heavens as you continued to place kisses on his face and jaw. 

“This is heaven, my angel,” He whispered, looking upon you intently. “You are my heaven,” He said sincerely, mustering all the sincerity he had. “And you are mine,” You said against his lips. 

Those were the final thoughts that ran through Aemond’s mind as he saw his uncle leap from his dragon, black sister wielded and aiming for him. He never thought that when he faced death, he would face it with a smile, yet here he was. 

He turned his gaze downwards, towards the raging waters of the god’s eye. He could not help but think that was the last scene you had seen as well. The raging waters that stole the only girl he loved. 

Aemond had been fighting a futile war. Ever since he was called to Harrenhall, you, his angel, were to be sent to Essos to escape the war. You had pleaded for him to take you, to not leave you, but Aemond thought it best that you be in a land without strife, promising that he would come for you once the war was won. 

However, as the news reached him that you, his heaven, was engulfed by the waves and could never be found, he felt something within him break beyond repair. Life seemed futile now— victory was no longer what he sought. Every breath he took had been hollow, each heartbeat an echo of the one that stopped the day you were taken from him.

He had gone through the war as if in a trance, his sword cutting down men without truly seeing them, his mind haunted only by the image of you— his fallen angel. Your smile beneath the moonlight, the warmth of your hand in his, the way your lips had tasted.

The rage that had once fueled him had gone and turned into something darker, heavier. He no longer fought for victory, for glory, or even for vengeance—only for the faint hope that, in some cruel twist of fate, death might lead him back to you. And so, as he faced his uncle now, Dark Sister raised, there was no fear in him. No hesitation. Only the calm acceptance that he was a man who had been living with half a soul. But not for long. 

If the waters below were to claim him too, then so be it. Perhaps, in their depths, he might finally find you waiting for him, his heaven— his angel. 

[eraenaa]

Damned Desires

Aemond Targaryen x Sister Reader

Synopsis: As the war had ended, Aemond made certain that his damned desires for his sister should never once again be denied.

Warnings: TARGCEST, Dub-Con, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Forced Marriage, Mature, 18+, Oral Sex (F receiving), Lost of Virginity, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 9,338

You have always been meant to be promised to the Faith of the Seven. Your mother offered you as a human sacrifice to The Maiden to repent for her sins as she had to go against the laws of gods and men when she betrothed her eldest son to her eldest daughter. As the youngest child of Queen Alicent Targaryen, you were greatly shielded from the cruel realities of the world. You were cherished by your mother and protected by your brother, Aemond. 

He was only four years older than you, but he had taken it upon himself to care for you in the way your father never did for any of his children with his second wife. Aemond grew up dotting upon his ever-lovely sister, who inherited their house’s lavender eyes and their mother’s auburn hair. Your appearance had always attracted the curiosity of the court. They expected the queen’s fifth and final child to be a dragon, not a baby deer. Your legitimacy might have raised great questions, though the irregular patch of straight silver hair beneath the thick curly locks of auburn quickly lowered the kingdom’s raised brows and accepted you as their beloved princess. 

You were the second coming of your mother. And the queen had made certain that whatever lapses she had in childhood and adolescence would not be repeated. You were brought up strictly in the faith of the seven, the most devout out of your siblings who had found their own interests. Aegon was interested in wine and bedding women, Helaena had her bugs and embroidery, Aemond had his books and sword training, and Daeron had his own life in Old Town. You, however, the scriptures and prayers were made to be in your interests. The most honorable of interests there were, as your mother often said. 

Aemond, however, was wary about your mother pushing the faith upon you, molding and shutting your mind so that it cannot register anything but the gods and their teachings. Of course, all were proud of you as you were the picture of devoutness and virtue; however, Aemond was apprehensive of it. His biggest fear was that your mother would sell you to the gods. Meaning that whatever plans he had made for both of you to follow in the footsteps and traditions of your house could never be. His fears turned out to be true when the war began, and you were sent to a convent for said sanctuary, but Aemond believed it to be your mother’s unearthed plans to bind you to the faith before Aemond could make good with his damned desires. 

It was before the battle in Rook’s Rest that he received word that his youngest sister had been sent away. He received the scroll just a few hours before he was to attack Princess Rhaenys, and he had the urge to just abandon his and Ser Criston’s plans in pursuit of you, but he saw a bigger opportunity as he saw Aegon and Sunfyre fly above him. Many would question what truly happened on the battlefield. Questions if the king’s injuries were caused by the Queen, who never was, or the One-Eyed Prince, or if he was simply unlucky in battle. But the truth was, his injuries were caused by desire. The desire of Aemond to be king and have you on his lap as his queen. If he were king, he would be a god. A god that your devoutness would be forced to serve. And Aemond could not wait for that day. 

When the Blacks surrendered, Aemond quickly mounted his dragon and flew out of the Riverlands and to the Reach to pull you out of the septre your mother had placed you in before you could make your vows. Not that you being a promised servant to The Maiden would hinder him in taking you as his wife and queen. Aemond waited in the chambers you were assigned to. He arrived in just the nick of time; the next day, you were bound to take your oaths and were in the midst of prayers to prepare yourself. It was providence that Aemond arrived when he did. 

“Aemond,” You muttered in surprise as you opened your chamber door and were met with your brother, who sat upon your bed with a sack filled with your most treasured belongings. He had taken the liberty of packing for you so that you could both quickly leave. Aemond felt out of breath as he finally saw you once more after endless moons of battle and strife. You were dressed in your habit, a white veil upon your head, and Aemond could not stand it. He had the urge to tear away the ugly reminder that you were about to be a bride for the gods instead of him. 

“We must leave, sister.” He said, voice leaving no room for questions. “You and I are the only blood of the dragon left— we must go back home.” Aemond urged as he quickly saw apprehension in your lavender eyes. “We must mourn, sister. We must mourn what they have taken from us, and we must rebuild so they will never have the gall to do it once more.” 

“But my vows,” You said lowly, glancing behind you, but your brother quickly held your face and made you turn to him. “It— It could wait,” He lied. “I need you now, sister.” Aemond pleaded and, with just one soft utterance and a somber look, made you agree. As much as you loved the gods, you loved your family even more and were willing to make this small sacrifice during your brother’s most urgent time of need. 

You arrived at the Red Keep. The halls and rooms were neglected, and it caused great sadness in you as you could not bear to see your home in such a state. Luckily, your brother was quick to reassure you that it shall all be returned to what once was, but whatever promise he uttered was pointless as decorations and simple beautification of your home would not undo the consequences of the war. 

“Who from the blacks survived?” You asked during dinner as you were shielded from the news of war, except if it was about your family. You could still remember the days when the sisters would inform you of the news of each of their passing. One by one, leaving you and not being able to say goodbye. You were only waiting for the day they would tell you of Aemond’s demise, but thank the gods as they heard your prayers and left you your brother. “Our half-sister’s two youngest sons,” Aemond replied and placed more items of food onto your plate, as he knew fully well that you being in the septere meant they had rationed and deprived you of good food. 

“And what are you to do to them?” You asked in dread, fearing for the state of such young, innocent boys. “What children of usurpers deserve,” Aemond answered plainly, but the dread in your eyes made him aware of how you disapproved. “Do not hurt them, brother.” You urged and took hold of his hand. Aemond relished in it as he finally felt your touch once more. “In time, they shall hurt as again,” Aemond answered, and you shook your head. 

“Brother, please. I beseech you not to hurt those children. Put them in another’s care— someone loyal to us to oversee that they shall not take revenge, but do not kill them. We have had enough bloodshed, brother… and for our nephews to be—“ You paused and chose your words wisely as the topic was a point of sensitivity. “Just please, brother. Swear to me that they would not be harmed or caged.” You whispered and pleaded to Aemond. 

Aemond could never resist your lavender eyes. He could not stand to see tears obstruct your orbs or have sadness cloud them. “Very well. They will not be harmed… only exiled.” Aemond decided as he did not wish to be in the same land as the sons of his traitorous half-sister or be under the same roof with children that would certainly take your attention away from him. For the first time, you were all Aemond’s. You were no longer the daughter of your mother nor a princess of the realm, and you were most certainly no longer a promised bride to the gods; you were simply his. You were simply Aemond’s. 

“Come, let me escort you back to your chambers,” Aemond called as you two ended dinner. You shook your head, not wanting to disturb your brother and have him walk all the way to the other side of the castle, but as always, Aemond was persistent and could not be denied. “I never realized how far your chambers were from the king’s quarters,” Aemond muttered as he walked with you silently, now noticing the great distance that would be placed between you two. 

“Mother wanted me to be closer to her chambers,” you explained, and saw the disapproving look in your brother’s eye. “Good night, sweet sis,” Aemond said lowly, reluctant to leave you as he wanted you close to him during the nights. “Good night, Aemond.” You smiled and were slightly startled as your brother dipped down and aimed to place a kiss on your cheek, but he miscalculated and placed it on the side of your lips. 

Aemond bit down his smirk as he saw a blush creeping up your cheeks. He recalled when he first accidentally did such actions. It was years ago; he was six and ten, and he was to leave for a moon to visit Daeron in Old Town. He did not wish to leave you for such a prolonged period of time, but he had no choice. But the morning before he was set to leave, you sneaked out of your chambers to spend scarce more time with him before he left. Aemond was so touched by your small gesture that he could not restrain himself and moved to kiss your lips. However, midway, he knew how you would not take it well as you guarded your virtue like a ferocious dragon, and he settled to place his kiss on the side of your lips instead. 

A moon passed, and you and Aemond had mourned your fallen family and supporters as well as celebrated the victory of your faction. Each day, you aided your brother in his duties. You were given the task of holding court while the king oversaw the small council. Aemond believed you were perfect for such duties, as you were well-beloved by the small folk, and you had the purest of hearts, and your sympathies for them made them love you further. 

“Your majesty, I—“ A farmer began to speak, but you smiled warmly and cut him mid-sentence. “Your Highness, sir… I’m only to be referred to as Your Highness. Your majesty is reserved for my brother, the king, and his wife, our future queen.” You explained, and those present in the great hall looked at each other with questions because even for them, it was obvious that you and your brother would take part in the traditions of your house. They were only waiting for the announcement that you and their king shall marry. “Of course, apologies, your highness.” The farmer bowed and began to articulate his plight, which you listened to carefully and already thought of a solution to ask for your brother’s permission. 

When night came, as always, you and Aemond had supper in his chambers. It was now only a short walk away as your own chambers were moved next to the king’s as Aemond could not sleep at ease with the fact that you were all the way in the west wing of the castle whilst he was situated in the east. “I held court today,” You say as Aemond pours wine into your chalice. 

“So I’ve heard. Any pressing matters that my council and I shall tend to immediately?” He questioned and brought his gaze to rest on your frame, which looked breathtakingly beautiful in your house’s colors. The drab and simple clothing of the septere is completely forgotten. “I’ve already given the list to your lord hand,” you replied, and Aemond was quick to spot hesitancy in your voice. “What is it?”

“Brother… you must know how glad I am that you have asked for my help as you try to rebuild the kingdom,” You began, and Aemond pursed his lips, already suspecting where the conversation would lead. “But I cannot take the duties of a queen for much longer… I must return to the septere and declare my vows. I do not wish to rush you, brother, but I do implore you to find a wife. Someone to better aid you in your duties and bear your heirs.” You said softly and once again took hold of his hand.

Aemond let out a breath. He foolishly thought that you had come to terms with your station now and that your promising yourself to the gods was just a bad dream you were forced to take. But now, he realized that his mother had achieved what she had always dreamed of: a devout and virtuous daughter who would appease the gods and make them forgive the transgressions of their family. “I have already found a bride,” Aemond revealed and watched as your lavender eyes widened and a surprised yet pleased smile bloomed on your lips— it’s a shame that it would wilt by the second. Aemond revealed who it was. 

“Really? Who is it? What house does your future lady wife come from?” You asked innocently, still not noticing the tinge of guilt in your older brother’s eye. As he did not respond, your smile faltered as you parted your lips to speak again, but realization dawned upon you as you noticed how Aemond tried to soothingly caress the back of your hand. “No…” You said in shock and shook your head in disbelief. 

You tried to steal your hand away and back away, but Aemond did not let you go. “This is the way of our house!” You shook your head as you forcefully took your hand from him. “Sister, please, you must understand.” Aemond pleaded. “We are the only blood of the dragon left— we must strengthen our claim, and our marriage is the only way to do that,” Aemond explained as he followed you towards the door, but he quickly prevented you from leaving. 

“Aemond— no! I… I am bound to the gods!” You exclaimed the exact words your mother would repeat to you. “No. You are bound to me! I was here first before those damn gods. You were mine first.” You stared at him, wide-eyed as he screamed blasphemy. “Why had you ignored and neglected the truth, sister? Why had you cowered behind the scriptures and statues? You and I are the blood of the dragon— we are not made to be servants of gods, for we already are.” Aemond murmured as he cupped your cheeks and rested his forehead against yours. 

“No, Aemond. Please… we— we cannot do this. You have seen the madness in our family. If we marry, we are bound to repeat their steps. We cannot— I will not.” You stuttered as you felt tears streaming down your cheeks at the impossible position you were placed in. “You will.” Aemond insisted, his eye growing darker at your distress at the idea of marrying him. If he had loved you less, he might have let you go and do what you wished, but he was a selfish man who never loved anything more than he loved you. And he would be a foolish man to set you free.

“Best to accept your station now, sweet sis. You are no longer a princess of the realm, nor will you be a servant for the gods— you will be queen, my bride, the mother of my children— you are and will forever be mine.” 

You stared out of your window as you watched the servants prepare for your wedding on the morrow. A fortnight had passed since the supper you and Aemond shared, and since then, he had confined you in your chambers, fearing that you would flee. You spent most, if not all, of your time in prayers and tears. 

As much as you loved your brother, you had never thought it would come to this. You foolishly thought he understood your commitment to the gods. You foolishly thought that the affection he showered you since you were born was just of familial love, not…

You sighed and forced yourself to remove yourself from the windowsill and continue on with your prayers. Praying earnestly to the gods to forgive you and your brother, and perhaps make him see reason. But as you hear the faint knock of your guards that would deliver your afternoon tea because you were not allowed to leave your chambers, you know nothing could make Aemond change his mind. 

“The halls are ready, and most of the guests have arrived, my king.” A council member stated as Aemond stared at his reflection on the reflective marble ball before him. “However… they are questioning as to where the princess is… she has not held court in half a moon and has not welcomed her guests.” 

“My bride— your future queen, shall grace us with her presence presently,” Aemond stated through his gritted teeth. He had been racked with guilt as he heard your cries every night. Your tears were spilled, and he was the reason for it. And as cruel as it sounded, he found little care as he rested with the certainty that, in time, you would accept your station and finally accept him.

Before the sun could set, Aemond had dismissed his council for them to have enough time to prepare for the feast that night. He, too, was set to go to his chambers and ready himself, but he found himself standing by your door. He heard nothing but silence and took that as a good sign, as it signaled that your tears had ceased. Aemond drew in a deep breath and slowly opened your chamber door, his eye desperate to catch a glimpse of you. 

He found you seated on your vanity, your maids preparing you for the feast. He watched as they quickly ceased braiding your hair to bow to their king, but you did not spare him a glance. “Give us a moment,” He uttered and stood by the side as your maids quickly shuffled out of the room, leaving you alone with him. “Ñuha perzys,” Aemond called softly, but even the sound of his voice made you flinch. 

“Do not be like this— it need not be this way,” Aemond sighed and went by your side, kneeling before you and urging you to turn to him. “You had lied to me, brother.” You said shakily. “You promised me that I could return to the septre and take my vows— you swore to me. And now… for you to do this?”

“Can you not understand why I am doing this?” Aemond questioned, and finally, you let your lavender gaze meet his lilac ones. “My intentions had always been the same, sister. Why must you constantly neglect and ignore it? Do not use the gods and mothers’ wishes as a defense— those were just thrust upon you. You cannot always hide behind it. Accept the truth, sister. Accept that you and I are meant to be together— that we were meant to burn for each other— that we are dragons bound by blood.” 

You bit your tongue as your sensibilities began to waver at the sincerity in your Aemond’s voice. A part of you was ready to concede, to accept it. But a bigger part of you guilted it, and you could only shake your head. You wanted to cower back as your small action effectively washed away the softness and warmth in Aemond’s lilac eye, and he now stared at you coldly and harshly. “You have no choice. Either accept your fate willingly or have me do it for you, sister. And believe me, you would want to choose the latter.” Aemond gritted out and stood. “For years, I have been patient. For years, I have denied myself. But not anymore. You shall be my queen. Even in I must tie you to the throne myself.” 

The days to your ceremonies were quick to pass. And every day before it, you tried hard to come to terms with the role being forced upon you. But the teachings instilled in your mind since you were young, the expectations set upon you by your late mother, had prevented you from doing so. And now, each step forward towards your groom— your king—your brother was heavy. 

You practically disassociated from the entirety of the ceremony. Staring blankly at the metal button of Aemond’s tunic until you were brought out of your reverie to utter your vows. Your breathing began to shallow as the ceremony was near the end, and the part where your marriage must be sealed off with a kiss was nearing. 

Aemond stared at you, urging you to look him in the eye, but as the ceremonies were coming to a close,  he could only sigh and raise your veil. His eye glanced upon your lips. Untouched and called for him. He took in a deep breath as all of your guests waited in anticipation to witness their king and their new queen’s first kiss. 

Aemond dipped down and finally sealed your marriage with a kiss. A kiss that he had yearned for so long. He felt the fire of desire within him burn bright and fierce as he had his first taste of you. He thought that your kiss would, in a way, satisfy the hunger he had, but it only made him starved for more. He ached to feel you, taste you, and consume you further. 

You felt ashamed to say it, but the kiss you and Aemond shared stirred a warmth within. A warmth that had come to you before, but you profusely ignored it because you knew it would lead to sin. You sat rigidly in your seat as the feast began, your hand firmly in your husband’s. Neither of you said a word, but what is there to say between a bride and a groom when they had begun as brother and sister?

You feel nervousness once more as the night begins to grow deeper, and another wave of anticipation hangs in the air. The guests waited impatiently for their king to whisk off his bride and for them to partake in the bedding ceremony. 

Aemond, too, felt the shift in the air. A part of him was greatly annoyed about how his people were so eager and impatient for a moment that he had waited a lifetime for. Aemond felt as if your usually warm skin had turned cold and clammy as glancing gazed upon the two of you. The king sighed and stood, urging you to do the same. Boisterous cheers erupted in the halls as you and Aemond ventured toward his chambers, and you felt your knees weaken at what was coming next. 

You expected Aemond to lead you to his chambers, but as he paused by yours, you turned to him in confusion. You saw his stoic and almost pained expression, “Good night, wife. Bar your doors.” He muttered and placed a chaste kiss on the side of your lips before opening your door for you and practically pushing you in. You stood by the threshold of your chamber in confusion and mystification, but most of all, gratitude. 

Aemond harshly slammed the door of his own room and dug his nails into his palms as he once again denied himself of his desires. As much as he wanted to have you, feel you, taste you, what he wanted most was your love and trust. And if he forced himself upon you now, he feared he would lose you, the only family he had left. 

When the following day came, you and Aemond were set to leave for Dragonstone for a fortnight to celebrate your honeymoon. You eyed warily his left hand whilst his right hand was in yours. His left palm had a bandage, as you assumed he had cut himself to draw blood, just so the courtiers would believe that what was expected from husband and wife was performed. 

You inhaled deeply as you two were delivered to a great, vast field where Aemond’s mount waited for both of you to be taken to your ancestral home. “Are you still scared?” Aemond questioned as you idly stood by the wheelhouse, eyes heavy with apprehension. You never had a mount. The egg placed in your bassinet had turned to stone, and when you grew older, your mother discouraged you from venturing toward the dragon pit to claim a dragon. And your ever-obedient self never went against her orders, leaving you without a mount. 

Aemond greatly frowned at that occurrence, leaving you without the rights of your blood, but alas, it was all too late now as the only dragons left were Vhagar and a few hatchlings that he could only hope would sire new dragons just in time for the birth of your own children. 

“Come now, she won’t eat you,” Aemond sighed. A small smile appeared on his lips as you instinctively clung to his side when you were nearing his mount. You wanted to disagree, remembering that the insatiable appetite of the great beast was the reason why the war began, but you bit your tongue and let Aemond guide you to ride atop his dragon.

He sat behind you, his arms perfectly fitted in the contours of your waist as he held the reins. “Sōvegon, Vhagar,” He commanded, his breath hot on your ear, and you bit your lip and closely shut your eyes as the warmth in you returned and the fluttering feeling of flying accompanied it. Aemond held onto your waist more securely, savoring the moments he finally held you and made certain not to let his dragon’s speed go too fast and snatch away from him the opportunity to have your frame against his. 

When you arrived in Dragonstone, you were greeted by punishing rain and ragged wind. Aemond was quick to help you down his saddle, barking at the guards to bring him a horse because he could not let you walk all the way from the pits to keep. 

“I’m fine,” You say lowly as you could feel Aemond’s great concern for you translate as anger before your men as he rushed them to get you a cloth and ordered you a steaming bath lest you catch sickness. “You’re shivering.” Aemond gritted as he delivered you to your shared chambers, resisting his eye from traveling down your frame as your gown clung around your frame, your outline evident and presenting him with further temptation. 

“The bath is ready, my queen,” A servant informed, and you nodded, a bit skeptical as Aemond followed you into the wetroom where two copper tubs sat by each other’s side. You glanced warily at Aemond, who had his lips pursed and eye pointed towards the floor. 

When you feel your maids undo the laces of your gown, you take in a deep breath as you could not blatantly ask Aemond to leave. You were husband and wife now— the entirety of the kingdom had believed you two had performed your duties as husband and wife the other night, surely you cannot urge him away. 

Aemond turned away from you as he saw your gown slip from your shoulders. Aemond took in a harsh breath as he heard the splash of water, making certain first that you had submerged yourself in the tub. You lowered your eyes as you heard Aemond disrobe, your eyes steadily on the milky, opaque water as Aemond approached his own tub. He swallowed thickly as he stepped foot into the hot water, his eye warily turning to you, whose blush was noticeable, and your hair clinging to your skin. 

You breathed in shallow breaths, uncertain if the warmth you felt inside was the cause of the hot water that surrounded you. “I’ve… I’ve never found the appeal in simply sitting in a tub of water,” Aemond suddenly spoke. He wanted to roll his eye at himself as he spoke of nonsense, but it was better that you two were sitting in the eerie quiet, where all you could hear was the occasional slosh of water and your breathing. 

“What?” You asked and finally placed your eye upon your brother— or more accurately, your husband. “I do not understand why we must sit in water when there are more efficient ways for us to cleanse ourselves.” He said, and settled further into his tub, and your eye caught as his ivory skin glistened with the steaming water. “You were ever the practical, husband,” You muttered, and both of you stilled at the realization of how you had addressed him. 

Aemond bit his tongue, resisting a grin to cross his lips. “Well, that is what had won us the war, wife.” He responded, and under the water, your finger was picking upon itself as your heart raged in your chest. You kept quiet and lowered your gaze, trying to ground yourself with the teachings and scriptures of the gods that had been instilled in your mind. However, you could not help but waver as your mind was not consumed by the sermons uttered in the sept but rather by how Aemond’s voice sounded when he called you wife.

When the water began to grow tepid, and Aemond noticed you had begun to drift into slumber, he delicately stood and called for his squire and your maids. You were woken by your handmaid from your brief spell of slumber and readied you for bed, where Aemond already awaited you. 

“I sincerely do hope that you have outgrown your snoring,” You say quietly through a yawn and settle yourself under the covers, having no energy to grow weary that you shall be sharing a bed with another. By the eyes of gods and men, he was your husband. “Unfortunately, I have not… but if my snoring has become a nuisance, little wife, then I permit you to smother my face with a pillow.” Aemond mused and watched as you curled upon the left side of the bed, your back turned to him as you hummed. Aemond never imagined that his first time sharing a bed with you, now that you were husband and wife, would not consist of you readily sleeping and staying by your side of the bed. However, he supposed that he should be more patient with you. 

He did pry you away from all you knew— from the life and path that you had threaded since you were born. He must restrain himself— must not grow rash with his actions, as he could not bear for you to be frightened of him again. He must admit, he was too consumed by his desires the days before your wedding, but after the tolls of war, he could not wait on the sidelines and simply wait— he must take what he wanted before it would be taken from him. 

“Good night, Aemond,” He heard you mutter in the quiet of your chambers. Aemond sighed and let out a small smile, his head turned to you, who clung to a pillow. “Good night, ñuha perzys,” 

You were woken up with a fright, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as a sudden noise sounded out through the castle. “It’s just the storm, my fire… It’s fine.” Aemond suddenly said, his voice muffled by his pillow, and only now did you notice that you had drifted onto his side of the bed and you had invaded his space. You looked downward and saw how his arm was firmly around your waist, and your legs were tangled in the sheets. “How long will there be a storm?” You could not help but ask, as you had always been scared of the rain and the thunder and lightning that came with it. “I do not know.” Aemond hummed, now beginning to wake once more as he could feel your unease. 

You tried to slow your raging heart, now uncertain if it was brought forth by the sudden thunder or because of the state you and Aemond were in. The last time he held you as such was when you were children. It was night, and a sudden storm raged through King's kingslanding. He knew all too well that you were scared. He knew you needed comfort. And so, he snuck into your chambers just to hold you until you fell asleep. Keeping you warm and protected through the raging storm.

You tried to return to sleep, but as another clap of thunder sounded out, Aemond felt as you jostled in fright. He sighed and pulled you closer to him, in disbelief that you would let him hold you as such. Aemond sighed as he heard you mutter a prayer to the gods as you tried to distract yourself. But he knew he could not have you clinging to the gods again— not when he was there. 

You stilled and turned silent as you heard Aemond begin to hum— the same Valyrian hymn he would hum to you to aid you sleep when you were children. You swallowed thickly as you felt your heart still, then return to its normal rhythm. You could not help but let out a sigh as you felt Aemond’s hand run through your hair, the action sending shivers down your spine and further warmth spread through— warmth that you still had the faintest clue what it meant. 

When morning finally came, the sky was still overcast and the light drizzle of the rain pattered through the window of the keep. You stirred and tried to stretch your limbs as your eyes were still closed; however, you felt as if you were paralyzed. You slowly peeled your eyes open, only to be met with Aemond’s toned chest, staring at his skin and the little wisps of hair. Apparently, in your sleep, not only had you invaded his space, but you had also tangled your body with his. 

“Aemond,” You tried to call as his hold on you was unrelenting. You called upon him once more, but he only let out a quiet groan before slowly peeling his eye open. “It’s still early, go back to sleep, my fire.” He muttered, knowing well it was near midday as he had woken earlier at the crack of dawn before deciding to savor the moment you were willing to have him by your side, for he was certain that in the following days, you would return the damned distance between you. 

“I’m hungry,” You whispered, and before you could react, Aemond already reached for his nightstand and rang a bell to summon the squires and maids. Before you were even fully dressed by your maids, the squires had already brought you and Aemond your meals. 

“What is this?” You suddenly heard Aemond sharply question while you were still behind a divider being laced into your gown. “V—ve… venison pasty, my king,” A squire stuttered, and just from that, you knew why Aemond was already enraged so early in the day. “My wife is intolerant to venison— do you mean to poison your queen?!” He roared, and you finally stepped out of the divider, only to be met with a petrified squire who stood before his king. 

“It’s fine, Aemond,” You say softly, offering a warm and apologetic smile towards the shaking squire. “How is it fine? They—“ You shook your head and took hold of Aemond’s tense arm, his eye wide in anger. “I have not even eaten it yet… they had made an honest mistake.” You say, and tried to reason with him. Aemond gritted his jaw and shook his head, his mind remembering the previous time you were served venison and how the meal had left you unable to breathe. 

“It is not their fault— they mean no malice,” You say further, and Aemond returned his fiery gaze to the servant. “Well? Are you only to stand there? Take it away! And tell the cooks that the next time they dare to cook venison, that might as well be the last meal they’ll have.” Aemond barked, and you watched as the squires and maids rushed out of your chambers. 

When the chamber door closed, you sighed. “You need not be so temperamental with them.” You say softly, guilt and pity heavy in your mind. “And you need not be so kind to them.” Aemond countered, and you frowned as he placed various dishes onto your plate and poured spiced wine into your cup. “They are your subjects, they look for you for protection, not—“ 

“Our,” Aemond cut you off. “What?” You asked as he took a scroll into his fingers and broke its seal. “Our subjects, ñuha perzys. You are my queen.” He stated and glanced between you and the scroll. “Either way, a realm bent from their trust is better than from their fear. Do not be a tyrant, husband… this kingdom has suffered enough from such hands.” You muttered, and Aemond froze for a moment at your words. A part of him still believed you were too soft, too kind, and naive. However, he supposed he must heed your words. You were his queen, after all— his equal. 

“I shall try… but I cannot promise anything,” He finally muttered after a stretch of silence, and at his words, you feel a smile coming to your lips. Growing up, everyone always said that you had Aemond wrapped around your little finger; you never understood what they meant. Not until now. Aegon had always jested that with just one ‘please’ from your lips, Aemond would have carved out his other eye and his heart if you so wished. Of course, you never paid attention to anything Aegon said, but still, you always wondered how far Aemond would go for you. Especially now that he had sworn to you his fealty and love, not that he needed to announce it before the entire kingdom. 

“Is… is there a chapel here?” You suddenly dared to ask, as after your confinement, you had missed attending sermons and actually being in the sacred space. Aemond tensed at your words, slowly blinking as he tried to rein in his rage. He knew he should not feel as such, but each mention of the gods, he could not help but grow jealous of the deities because there was a possibility that they could have taken you from him. 

“I do not believe so… you forget, our ancestors did not abide by the faith of the Seven,” Aemond responded and glanced at you, who lowered her gaze in disappointment. “Oh, of course,” You said solemnly, thinking of another way to occupy your time as your king husband would certainly be preoccupied with his duties, even if it were your honeymoon. 

At another stretch of silence, Aemond sighed heavily. “I shall ask them to make a spare hall into a chapel, wife.” He conceded. As much as he was not fond of the faith, he still very much respected that you were. “Really?” You asked in surprise and hope, Aemond could only nod, but his heart warmed as a true, wide smile appeared on your lips. His mind was trying to ignore the fact that the gods brought your true smile, but he supposed a part of it was because of him. “Thank you,” You say in gratitude and reach for his hand, giving it a small squeeze, and Aemond relishes your warm touch. 

“But it would not be prepared until the week’s end. Perhaps you could find another… activity to occupy your time, ñuha perzys.” He added, and you nodded mindlessly, not quite certain what to do. “Like what?” Aemond placed his gaze upon you once more as he took another unopened scroll into his hand. “What are the duties of a queen?” You questioned, as you were raised to be a Septa, not a ruler. 

“Do not bother yourself with that yet… we are here to rest,” Aemond said ironically as half of his attention was placed on the scroll that was filled with business dealings of the kingdom. You bit your tongue as you studied Aemond and his furrowed brows as he read the pile of scrolls. You wanted to counter that he was consumed by his duties, but asking your brother to rest and seek reprieve was asking a dragon not to fly. It was futile and against their nature. 

When you realized that these were his duties, you stood and tried to excuse yourself, but he was quick to take hold of your wrist. “Where are you going?” Aemond asked, his eye still on the scroll. “ I-I wanted to explore… I’ve never been to our ancestral home,” You say, and feel the coolness of his hold spread through your skin, but the persistent warmth within you never ceased. “Very well, let me come with you… wouldn’t want you to get lost.” 

“You need not do so. I know you are busy with the dealings of the kin—“ Aemond only stood and pocketed more of the unopened scrolls. “Nonsense. Come, let us go,” He said and offered his arm for you to take. 

You walked along the halls, your attention turned to the various tapestries that depicted scenes of battle and important milestones of your ancestors’ lives. Some tapestries were faded beyond recognition, and some were still vibrant as if they were only woven yesterday. “I wish they had decorated the Red Keep in the same fashion as they did here,” You say absentmindedly, looking upon a tapestry that depicts the scene of life in Valyria. “Really? I would think you were fond, as our mother had practically turned the castle into an extension of the sept,” Aemond replied, observing you who examined the tapestries hung on the walls. 

“I— That is not what I meant,” You say, voice growing smaller as you spot bitterness in his voice. Aemond gritted his jaw as he felt you unlink your arms and you began to walk onwards, leaving him behind. He cursed himself as he once again showed his animosity for your past. But he could not help but do so as the pang in his chest never lessened each time he recalled that there was an uncertain moment when you would not be his. Aemond sighed heavily and followed you, once again feeling the damned distance between you. 

“Do you truly wish for the Red Keep to be decorated as such?” He asked as he urged you to cease walking, taking both of your hands in his, and pleading for you to meet him in the eye. “Yes— but it does not mean I wish for mother’s past decorations to be removed or dis—“ 

“Then you shall have it,” Aemond said simply, and you frowned. “Let them both exist in one space… one that represents your faith and the other our ancestors,” Aemond said and resisted his urge to cup your cheek. “Do you truly mean that?” You asked, and Aemond smiled softly and gave a nod. “You can have all that you wish for, my fire,” he swore, and you nodded, unable to resist the urge to stand on the tip of your toes and place a kiss on his cheek. But like him, you had miscalculated and had placed your lips against the side of his. 

Your eyes widened at your actions, but more so as you felt a flutter in your chest and the warmth within intensified. Aemond looked upon you intently, assesing the scarlet that spread to your cheeks and the turmoil in your eyes. He knew he should step back, to let the moment be, but he could not restrain himself as he cupped your cheeks and kissed your lips. No accidental brushes or performances for duty, only his desires shining through. 

Aemond expected you to push him away— to grow offended at his actions. But you only hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. Aemond felt he could already come undone with that action alone, his knees buckling as he felt your lips against his; uncertain, hesitant, and utterly perfect. When he felt you stagger, that you were in need of air, he reluctantly parted your lips. 

You took in deep breaths, gathering all the courage in you to raise your gaze and meet his lone lilac eye. You see, as his lips were a deep pink and had a sheen that reflected through the torch lights. “Did… Did I do that correctly?” You asked innocently, knowing you had no actual knowledge on what husband and wife should do beyond making heirs— and even there, you were not entirely certain that commence as your mother had made certain that such teachings would not be taught to you because she always believed you would be a bride for the gods, not a man.

“You did it perfectly, my fire,” Aemond muttered softly, his thumb grazing your soft cheek as you once again stole away your gaze and nodded. “I do not want to fail,” You suddenly said, and Aemond frowned at your words. “I— all our lives, the marriages made in our family had all crumbled… I know I was reluctant to this at first, but… I do not want my own marriage to fail like the others.” You confessed. A reason why you were reluctant to marry Aemond at first, and why you had taken the fate your mother made for you without question, was because you did not wish to know the pain of a loveless bed, or the bitterness that rotted the hearts of so many queens before you; just as it did to your mother and sister. 

Aemond sighed heavily and urged you to look upon him again. “Do you know why they’re marriages had failed?” Aemond questioned rhetorically. “It is because they held no love for each other— they married for gain or duty… but not us. I married you because I love you— I have burned for you my entire life. I have dreamed of you since we were children,” he went on, his voice low but steady, “And not once have I thought of another at my side. I would sooner see my blood spilled upon these stones than allow our bond to rot as theirs did.”

You did not know how to reply. You only knew that whatever reservations you had for your marriage had been resolved by just Aemond’s words. You could not help but kiss his lips again, unable to word out how you felt and could only rely on your actions to let him know how you felt. 

When you two parted for air once more, you looked upon his darkened eye and swallowed thickly. Your legs felt weak, and you had the instinct to cross them together as if to appease the odd sensation that you felt in your core. “What… what is it?” Aemond questioned as he saw the turmoil behind your eyes. “I do not know. I feel… strange,” you say in a whisper, and Aemond already knew what you meant to say, yet he continued to ask you what strangeness plagued you. 

“I feel warm and… and breathless and—“ you ceased speaking, uncertain if you should tell him the extent of how you felt. “And?” You licked your lips and lowered your gaze. “I… I could feel my—my pulse in—“ Aemond breathed out harshly and kissed your lips once more, letting the words you were afraid to utter die on your lips. 

You clung to him again, feeling the heat inside multiply as you felt his tongue brush your lip. You were uncertain about what to do, but Aemond only reached out to take hold of your chin and gently parted your lips. A moan passed your lips as you felt him— taste him further. You wanted to feel guilty. You wanted to feel that it was perhaps wrong. But he was your husband… if you should do such things, it should be with him, wouldn’t it?

“Tell… tell me when you wish for me to cease,” Aemond breathed heavily against your lips. His hands now firmly grasping your waist to rein in himself and not go any further than you were comfortable with. Your eyes fluttered at the sound of his voice. You could only shake your head, uncertain where it would lead, but certain that you would wish to know where it did.

You gasped as Aemond lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You could not even speak as his lips were unrelenting as they found yours once more. Aemond felt as your hands fisted his hair, your frame squirming in his hold. “It… it aches, Aemond,” You dared say as you parted your lips, your back against the poster of the bed. Aemond groaned quietly at your words, his head falling upon your heaving chest, lips still peppering kisses upon your skin. “This is what happens when you deny yourself for too long, my fire… but no matter now, I shall soothe whatever ache you feel,” Aemond muttered, and a shaky moan left your lips as you feel him press further upon the bed’s column, and he lightly bit your skin. Your eyes rolled back as you felt his solid body against yours. 

Aemond relished in the whimper that left your lips as he gently guided your frame to lie on the bed. “Are you truly certain, ñuha perzys?” Aemond questioned, and you fervently nodded as you tried to pull him closer to you. Aemond groaned as he felt your lips desperate against his and your hands clutching his leather doublet tightly as if he were to vanish at any moment. 

“Please, husband… I do not think I can bear it anymore,” You said, distraught as you had never felt such emotions overcome you before. “Aemond, please,” You called out once more, and by just one word, you saw a switch behind Aemond’s lone eye. Gone was the restraint and his caution. He was no longer a man before you; he was an insatiable beast— a dragon. 

You breathed heavily as you felt him flip you over, your stomach against the feathered bed. “Aemond— wh—“ You could not even finish your sentence, for in one swoop, the laces of your gown came undone. You turned back, eyes widening as you saw Aemond discard the dagger that he used to undo your dress. Another whimper left your lips as you felt him barbarically tear it further, leaving you in your shift. 

You felt dazed, not understanding one action from the next. You did not even realize that Aemond too had undressed and that you had returned lying on your back, nor had you realized that he was now kneeling before you, your legs hooked on his arms, urging them to part.

Aemond steadily studied you, your eyes upon him, and had a look of uncertainty. “You truly do not know what shall happen, do you?” He sighed, knowing full well that your mother had shielded you from any true form of pleasure or anything that the gods did not approve of. You shook your head, feeling a blush of shame coming to your cheeks. 

“Nothing to be ashamed of, my fire… I am here now,” He murmured and peppered kisses upon your knees and thighs, your eyes fluttering to close at how new everything felt. “Aemond, what are you— no—I…” You protested as you felt his lips straying closer to your sex. “You said you feel an ache, my fire… this is the way to be absolved of it,” Aemond said simply, his eye now upon your cunt, glistening and calling for his undivided attention. 

Aemond felt your legs try to close, but a ‘tck’ left his lips as he only urged your legs to part further. “This is what you had wanted, ñuha perzys… this is what you had pleaded for,” Aemond muttered, his breath fanning your cunny, and you feel your eyes roll back. You no longer have the stupid sensibilities to protest, especially when you feel his tongue against your cunt. “Fuck,” Aemond could not help but mutter as he finally tasted you. You bit your lip harshly as you thought Aemond would ease you in, but as you felt his lips flush against your cunt, his tongue lapping on your folds, lewd sounds echoed throughout your chambers. 

“Oh gods,” You could not help but call out as your hands fisted the sheets and your back arched at the sheer pleasure Aemond presented. “Not the gods, my fire… only me,” You hear him utter, and you gathered all the strength you had to prop yourself up on your elbows to see him, and the sight of him between your legs, face flushed against your cunt and his hands gripping your thighs made your heart stutter in further pleasure. 

“Best get used to such views, little wife,” Aemond grinned as he looked up at you, watching as your eyes rolled back as his lips returned their attention to your needing pearl, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers slowly entered you. “A—Aemond,” you called in slight panic as he introduced another sensation. “It’s just my finger, my fire… what more than if it’s my cock?” He asked as you fell back onto the pillows, the pleasure all too much for you. Aemond felt the quake of your thighs, limbs tightening and urging his closer to your cunny if possible, and Aemond could only groan in pleasure as he tasted you further when you came undone. It was thundering outside, but it would seem the only thing you two heard were your moans of pleasure. 

You breathed heavily as you felt his weight atop you once more, biting your lip as he barbarically ripped away your shift, and his greedy and wanting lips closing upon your tit, doing the same torment he had just done on your cunny. “Aemond,” You called as your finger gripped his hair. “Please,” You said once more as he pulled on his face as you wanted to feel his lips once more, moaning as you tasted yourself on his tongue. “It… it shall hurt, my fire— but if y—“

“I do not care,” You say, desperate to feel another sensation of pleasure that you were deprived of. Your desires are always suppressed as they have made it in your mind that any form of sin would not take root, no matter how good it may feel. “I want to be yours, Aemond. I do not care that I shall feel pain if it means I shall be yours,” You say breathlessly, and Aemond shuts his eye tightly at your words. 

You gripped his shoulder tightly as your other hand cupped his cheek, feeling the tip of his cock glide through your folds, little whimpers leaving your lips as you felt him enter you. It felt like an eternity of pain before you succumbed to pleasure, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. “You have always been mine, ñuha perzys,” Aemond whispered as he felt your cunt clench around him further, a groan leaving his lips as he was in disbelief that after all these years, his damned desires were finally resolved. “And I have always been yours,”

[eraenaa]

Yielded Devotion

Aemond Targaryen x Clingy Lannister Reader

Synopsis: King Aemond Targaryen would rather forsake the crown, court, and his dragon rather than face the anger and contempt of his beloved queen. But when her craving for his love and attention turns unpredictable, he finds himself tested in more ways than one.

Warnings: Clingy/SPOILED Reader, Aemond being a simp for his wife, Cock-Warming, Using Sex as a Weapon, Handjob, Possessiveness, Mature, 18+, Semi-Public Relations, Pregnancies, Slight Violence, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 10,791 (mb, i got carried away)

Prequels: Impatient and Desperate ; Neglected Promises

You were a needy little creature, and your husband had long known this. What he had not anticipated, however, was that your clingy, dependent self could reach new, almost astonishing heights. Since your reconciliation—born from your husband’s brief spell of neglect, which few would dare call true negligence—Aemond had made it his mission to ensure you never felt such lack again. Every spare moment he had, he gave to you, and truthfully, he would not have it any other way.

Each morning, he forwent his usual habit of rising with the sun and instead lingered in bed, holding you as you slumbered peacefully. He would cut council meetings short—sometimes barely making an appearance at all—just to steal quiet moments with you among the garden blooms, breaking fast by your side. Even court matters were occasionally left unattended, for if his wife wished him near, that alone became his highest priority. And by the grace of the gods, the realm had yet to suffer for it.

But now... now Aemond was beginning to worry. You had once accepted that there were hours in the day when duty would pry him away from you. You had even bid him farewell with soft smiles and sleepy kisses. But lately, it seemed, you had regressed. Where once he thought you satisfied after clinging to him through the early dawn, you now demanded more—you wanted him there when you woke, to be the first sight your eyes found upon rousing from sleep. Aemond had begun slipping from meetings to sprint through the halls, breathless, simply to whisper good morning against your lips. He told himself that would be the end of it. A further indulgence, then no more.

But then came the baths. At first, he’d only planned to return to the council to spend the midday with you, but you began calling for him earlier, beckoning him to join you in the steaming waters. And how could he say no? He could, of course. But between pressing matters of state and the opportunity to lather your warm, silken skin, the choice was hardly a choice at all.

Then came the meals. Where once you asked only for breakfast and supper together, now you insisted upon luncheon as well—an hour sacred to his training. Still, Aemond sighed and yielded. What was one less hour with the sword compared to the look of delight in your eyes when he sat across from you, watching you eat, even as he himself had no appetite?

Soon, even the briefest separations became unbearable for you. If he left to spar, you appeared at the edge of the training yard. If he retreated to the library for an hour's quiet, your soft footsteps would soon follow. At first, he had indulged these things because he could not bear for you to grow doubtful of him once more. 

However, he knew he must speak to you after the stunt you had pulled at court. It was during the weekly hearing of petitions by the smallfolk. He was seated on the iron throne whilst an unending line of smallfolk stood before him. Aemond had only dismissed and solved three measly matters before his queen came sauntering into the hall, ignoring those who bowed before her wake and made a beeline for her husband. 

You did not hesitate as you ascended the throne where Aemond sat upon, his questioning look left unanswered as you only unfolded his crossed arms and perched yourself upon his lap, settling yourself atop your husband and wrapping his arms around you. The court was stunned, to say the least. Though they had witnessed and heard you and your husband grow intimate time and time again, their queen at least had the decency not to blatantly disrupt court matters. The room had grown silent, and your husband’s confusion only grew further as you had not said a word to him. 

“Continue,” You declared, looking upon the men and women before you who only gawked as they witnessed their queen perching herself upon her husband, who sat in shock behind her. When no one did as you had said and instead only continued to look at you, you rolled your eyes and sighed. “I said, continue!” You snapped, and the court was quick to dissolve their trance and proceed with uttering their petitions to their king. 

“Is anything the matter, my heart?” Aemond finally questioned, as the guards were settling who would speak to the king next. “Nothing,” You said simply, and burrowed your body further upon his, Aemond having to restrain himself as his cock was growing restless by how you would shift ever so slightly from time to time. “Are you certain?” Aemond questioned once more, now growing concerned. 

“Husband, when have I ever bit my tongue if something has bothered me?” You questioned, and Aemond bit the inside of his cheeks. You may be needy, but at least you were always honest. “Very well then,” He hummed and motioned for the next citizen to come forward. 

The day continued on as such, with the smallfolk airing out their grievances before their king, whose queen sat upon his lap. Aemond would note how you would take his hand and play with his fingers, mind adrift, even if the most salacious topics arose, you did not listen. From time to time, he would hear whispers from the court regarding you and your odd demeanour that day, and your husband would not hesitate to throw his most scathing look upon them and effectively cut their wagging tongues. “How much longer?” You finally spoke, feeling the light of the fleeting sun set you aglow. “Just a few more, my heart,” Aemond reassured and placed a chaste kiss upon the crown of your head, and you could only hum and intertwine your fingers, your gaze set afar. 

When the court finally ended, Aemond delivered you back to your shared chambers, and you could not even wait until the door closed shut before circling your arms around your husband’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. “I had missed you, my love,” You breathed out and felt Aemond’s hands hold your waist steady. “We have just spent the whole day together, my heart— you were quite literally on my lap.” Aemond mussed, his heart growing further soft at your words and the wanting look in your eyes that was only meant for him. “That is simply not enough,” You sighed and moved to kiss him once more. 

Aemond hummed in satisfaction as he felt your hand cup his length that had been rigid the moment you entered the great hall that morning. “My needy little wife… what is it that you need? Say it now and I shall give it,” Aemond groaned, his lips finding your neck and placing his little marks. Aemond anticipated your reply, but he grew confused as you suddenly pulled away, a calculating look in your eyes. 

“Do you love me?” You suddenly questioned. “Of course. I love you more than anything, my heart.” Aemond said without hesitation, and usually, that would calm the uncertainty in you, but you only walked away from him. “You always say that! It is as if you had rehearsed it!” You complained and sat on your settee with an irritated huff, leaving your husband standing with his cock painfully erect in his trousers. 

“Then… Then what is it that you wish for me to say, little wife?” Aemond questioned, quickly coming to your side, readying himself to soothe the lion’s irritation once more. You rolled your eyes at his response, growing silent for a moment before another question left your lips. 

“Do you love me more than being king?” “Yes,” Aemond said with great certainty. 

“Do you love me more than your sword?” You asked and turned a pointed look at Blackfyre, the sword that has never left your husband’s side, even in sleep, it was settled near him. “Yes,” Aemond answered, trying to reach for your hand, but you moved further away from him. 

“Do you love me more than your small council?” You asked, and Aemond pursed his lips. “Yes— and I do not hold love for them, little wife— they are just tools,” He clarified, uncertain where you were getting on. 

You hummed, looking intently upon your king, who would only kneel for his queen. “Do you love me more than your dragon?” You then questioned, and Aemond felt his heart cease a beat. “Y-yes,” He answered, voice wavering, and you were quick to spot it. You scoffed and suddenly stood. “Very well then, let us see if your precious Vhagar could warm your cock during the night!” You said bitterly and moved to leave. Aemond was quick to take hold of your arm, mind still muddled about what was happening. One moment, you were on him like a leech; now you were tugging at your arm so you could leave him. 

“I love you more than Vhagar, ñuha prūmia,” Aemond clarified. And none in the castle missed the sudden roar of their king’s dragon, as if it actually heard its rider’s words. You returned your gaze upon your husband again, your eyebrow raised to assess him. You narrowed your eyes and returned to your seat, and Aemond returned to kneeling before you, pouring out his earnest efforts to calm the doubts in your mind.

The little game you were playing continued on through the night. You had him pick between you and any other thing you believed he would prefer more than you; there was nothing, of course. 

“If we have children, who would you love more? Me or your heirs?” You then asked as you and your husband were trying to have supper. You must admit, you were impressed that he had answered all your previous questions and not once had he beseeched you to cease your little torment. 

Aemond almost choked on his wine at your question. He looked upon you intently, fearing for his state if he picked the wrong answer. You raised your brow at him once more as you were met with his silence. “If I am to give birth and the maester asked you to pick between me and the babe, who would you pick?” You then asked, and Aemond felt his heart pit. It was theoretical, of course, but he feared that it could actually come true. It was an often enough occurrence; it even happened to his father and his first wife. “I…” Aemond began, hearing as you tapped your finger upon the table in impatience. “…Who would you wish for me to pick?” Aemond then questioned, but you only pursed your lips. “I had asked you. Do not turn my question against me.” 

“I… you. I would choose you, my heart.” Aemond finally answered, but you only scoffed in disbelief. “Then the babe! I would choose the babe!” He retracted, but that only earned a louder scoff from you. “Well, what do you want me to do?” Aemond asked, crazed as the throbbing in his cock still had not subsided, and his mind was spinning from all the questions you had asked him. 

“Save us both!” You exclaimed and shook your head disapprovingly at your husband. “But— that— I—“ Aemond stuttered as he watched you grumble and stab the carrot on your plate. “I cannot believe you would actually choose between me and our babe,” You muttered and crossed your arms, glaring at your husband. 

“You… This is ridiculous!” Aemond suddenly exploded, his mind now aching. “You dare call me ridiculous?!” You seeethed, and Aemond’s eye widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No! What I meant was— this— the questions you ask are impossible to answer!” He exclaimed, sighing heavily. Not even the great matters of the crown had made his head ache this much. 

“Are you calling me impossible?” You then challenged, and you could see the turmoil in your husband’s mind. “Yes!” Aemond suddenly burst out, and a gasp left your lips as you could not believe he would say such a thing to you. When Aemond had realized what he had said, he felt his heart pit. He watched as your angered gaze turned to rage, and he quickly stood to go by your side and take back what he had said. 

He thought you would scream at him— that you would roar out your anger, but it was something worse. You began to cry. “I knew it! You don’t love me anymore!” You wailed and pushed away your husband, who tried to gather you in his arms. You abruptly stood and dashed out of your chambers, tears streaming down your face as you made your way through the dark halls. Aemond was left in your chambers, dumbfounded. He could not even muster up the energy to follow you as you had driven him crazy that day. He could only pray to the gods for strength and hope you would be more reasonable when the sun rises the next day, so he could offer his apologies.

Aemond had not slept at all the past night. He tossed and turned in your bed, but the thought of you crying and the image of your pearl tears dripping down your face haunted him. He had threaded the path to the East wing countless times in the night, knowing you would settle in the chambers that you had once plotted to stay in during your last accord with him. However, Aemond hindered himself because he feared he might only anger and offend you further. 

Before the first light could even shine through the land, Aemond was already seated before the table of his small council. He had planned to get through all of the matters during the morning, so the rest of the day could be spent with him begging for your forgiveness. 

However, Aemond was left speechless as the doors of the small council suddenly opened, revealing you. Aemond composed himself, debating if he was dreaming. “My h—“ He tried to speak, but you threw him a glare. “Do not say a word.” You gritted out, and Aemond could only watch as you bent down and undid his trousers. “Wh—“

“Your queen had commanded you not to speak!” You said irritably as you pulled out his cock, which was already hard just from your slightest touch. Aemond’s confusion from the past night never lessened; if anything, it only multiplied as you lifted your skirts and once again settled yourself between your husband’s legs and began to sink down his cock, your lip between your teeth as you tried to stifle a moan. 

Aemond’s lone eye rolled back in immense pleasure as his cock finally felt the tight, warm walls of your cunt. His hands instinctively went to your waist, but you were quick to swat them. “I did not come here to be fucked.” You informed stoically, twisting your head partly to see the confusion in your husband. You liked him in such a state. There are a few things that left the mind of the great King Aemond confused, and you're proud to say it was primarily because of you. “Then why is my cock inside of you?” He breathed out heavily, his hands gripping tightly the wooden arms of his chair. You only shrugged. “I shall be part of the meetings today— you will not move. You shall go on as you do normally… and once you do, then perhaps I shall consider speaking to you about what had transpired last night.” 

“Bu—“ Aemond tried to speak, but he only felt your walls clench around him further, effectively muddling his mind and stealing the words from his tongue. “You had called me impossible— then I shall only show you something truly impossible, my king.” You whispered as you heard the distinct sounds of murmurings and footsteps approaching the room of the small council. 

You leaned forward and propped yourself on the table. You glanced downwards and witnessed the tight hold your husband had on his chair, his knuckles turning white, and his ragged breathing reaching your ears. “Good morning, my lords.” You greeted and watched as the men who entered the room grew confused by your presence and how you were seated on your husband’s lap once more.

When you were met with their silence, you clenched your cunt again. “M—My wife bided you good mo… morning.” Aemond gritted out, his voice holding the same tone of authority but now laced with pleasure and restraint. “Good morning, my queen,” They finally greeted and took their seats, looking at each other in question. 

“What are today’s m-matters?” Aemond questioned, trying his best not to let his voice waver or let anyone witness the pleasure he was denied. “Are you well, my king?” His master of ships questioned, and Aemond clenched his jaw as he felt your cunt pulse once more, a small hum leaving your lips. “Yes. Now, let us get to the matters at hand.” Aemond gritted out, his hands impossibly gripping tighter the arms of his chair, the wooden carvings now traced upon his flesh. 

“It is a topic of great sensitivity, my king… are you certain the queen sho—“ You cast an unimpressed look upon one of the lords and ever so slightly shifted your bottom, and you could hear a small groan leave your husband’s lips, which he quickly masked with a fictitious cough. “My wife is the queen— she… she has the right to know the happenings in our kingdom,” Aemond answered, feeling a slight sense of relief as you unclenched your tight cunt and offered him some sort of relief for a brief moment. 

You sat in silence as the men began their discussion, pretending to listen when in truth you had little care for politics. Of course, you cared about your kingdom and its people, but not so much for the talk that the men in power did. 

“What else?” You hear your husband question, and you barely spot a tone of struggle in his voice, and you take that as a cue to return to your little torment once more. You bit back your smirk as you once again heard his ragged breathing and how he gritted his teeth. As they continued, you grew increasingly bored, so you decided to push further at your husband’s restraint and patience. You shifted in your seat, pretending to reach for the pitcher of wine before you, but in truth, you were grinding upon your husband’s cock, and it would seem the lords were none the wiser. 

When your husband let out a heavy breath, the lords ceased in their conversation. “Are you certain you are well, your majesty?” He was once again asked, while you looked upon the group of men innocently. Your husband’s head was tilted to the heavens, his eye closed tightly. When he made no response, a rather impertinent lord decided to speak. 

“My king… the matters of the day are rather serious— perhaps the queen should… should leave and so you could focus.” Your jaw slackened as you heard such words uttered, an oppressive tension now surrounding the room. 

“Dare to repeat those words again, lord Tawley?” You challenged, your husband too consumed by the feel of your cunt around him that he did not readily jump to your defense. “My queen… this is no place for you. We understand that you wish to be with your husband, but you do not see us lords dragging our wives to important dealings.” The lord had the audacity to say, but he quickly regretted it as their queen’s gaze turned murderous. None had actually witnessed her grow enraged as their king was always quick to smooth away the troubles and conflicts she would cross. 

“Well, of course not. You cannot even drag your wife to your own bed, for I hear tell she is too preoccupied with your squire.” You hear one of the lords take in a sharp breath at your words. Lord Tawley’s eyes widened, and everyone present watched as he abruptly stood, rage in his eyes, and offence against their queen ready to spew from his lips. 

“Careful now, my lord… You forget I am still present.” Aemond finally spoke, and you rested your back upon his chest, a smug smirk on your lips. “My king, this is preposterous! She is no—“ 

“One more word and I shall have you removed from this council.” You dared say, paying no mind to the actual consequences of your words because you were certain your husband would sort it out in no time. “You have no power to do such a thing! You only believe you do because you had bewitched the king with your cunt!” 

It was as if all present had frozen as the words left the lord’s lips. You feel your husband’s hold come to your waist, him wishing to stand and face the lord who dared to disparage his beloved wife. You, however, hindered him. “Guards!” You roared, and three knights were quick to enter the room and restrain the lord. “Cut out his tongue.” You ordered, feeling as if all eyes were pointed at you. Even at the severity of the situation, you could not help but feel how your husband’s cock twitched inside you, twisted as he found further pleasure at the circumstance. 

You watched as one of the knights battled through their hesitation and took out their dagger, making you scowl. “Not in front of me! Do it in the cells.” You ordered, and they quickly abided and dragged away Lord Tawley, who began to cry and beseech your forgiveness. 

You breathed in deeply and returned your gaze upon the table filled with stunned lords who shrank in fear in their seats. “Well? Does any one of you wish to say anything? Best say it now whilst you have the opportunity,” You say and hear another quiet groan leave your husband’s lips. The lords fervently shook their heads and avoided your gaze. Before, they had feared crossing you because they knew they would suffer the wrath of your husband; now, they feared for your wrath as well. 

The council began to proceed with their discussion, trying to hide their fear as they had no wish to befall the same fate as Lord Tawley. You watched for a moment, but you felt your husband’s head dip down, and his lips grazed your ear. “Plea…Please, my heart,” You hear him whisper, his hands now returning to your waist as you feel him grow restless beneath you. 

You shifted your head slightly, looking upon the begging gaze of your husband. “Do not come. If you do, I swear to the gods that the next matter you and your council will be discussing is who shall be your second wife.” You threatened, and a sadistic smirk appeared on your lips as you heard him whimper and swallowed thickly. Your husband had offended you greatly the other night. You believed that you could look past it; however, your mind and heart were stubborn at the moment, and all it wanted to do was to prove to Aemond what impossible truly meant. 

 The council had ended by midday, unending hours of Aemond’s cock being inside your cunt, but he still had not found release. As the lords gathered their belongings, Aemond snapped and practically forced them out of the room. Aemond breathed out a breath of relief and quickly returned his hands to your waist, but you only stood, and another pitiful groan left his lips. “But my heart—“ He called, and you looked down upon him and the state you had left him in, needy and desperate, his cock painfully erect and glistening with your slick. 

“I had just been insulted in a room filled with lords, yet you still have the decency to be aroused?” You questioned with a scowl and bit your cheeks at the look of your husband, who appeared as if he wanted to weep. 

“But you handled them so well— you have put them in their place. Now no one would question your authority ever again,” Aemond said, taking hold of your hand and urging you to return to him. You only rolled your eyes. You sighed and leaned closer to your husband, his hands instinctively cupping your cheeks as he thought you would mount him once more. But his pleading face contorted in confused pleasure as your hands gripped his painfully hard cock. “Do not think I have forgiven you, husband… I’m only doing this because there is much kindness in me for those who suffer.” You whispered against his lips, but you would pull away because you did not think he deserved your kisses after what he had said the past night. 

“Yes… the gods… they have blessed me with such a benevolent wife,” Aemond groaned, his eye tightly shut as he had to settle with the feel of your soft hand stroking his cock instead of your plush cunt. “I do not… I do not deserve such a gift as you, my heart, but they have blessed me more than any man is deserving to have.” Aemond breathed out, and you smirked upon his words and finally obliged him with his release. Aemond came undone with a loud groan that echoed through the room of the small council, his eye quickly opening as he felt you leave a chaste kiss on his cheek and quickly stole your hand away from his cock. 

Aemond could watch through his daze as you took a napkin to wipe your hands that were coated with his spent and left the room without another word. 

Another night was spent without you in Aemond’s arms, and it was driving him crazy. They had always said that his house was cursed with madness, and he believed it was because of the blood that coursed through their veins, but it would seem his madness would come from his wife. 

It was the hour of the ghost when Aemond decided he could no longer continue as such. He threaded the dark halls of the keep and reached his destination, pounding insistently upon the chamber doors of the castle’s head maester. “My king— is anything the matter?” The maester questioned, startled by his presence. 

“It is the queen,” Aemond confessed, and the maester was quick to gather his items to assess the queen. “No— she is not ill— at least not in that way,” Aemond sighed as he entered the maester’s chambers, having no other place to turn to. “Then, what is it, your majesty?” He was questioned. 

“I have always known that my wife is a needy creature… and I am more than happy to oblige her and place my attention upon her each moment she asks. However, now… it is different. It is as if she had changed overnight. She would need me, of course— but then she would be quick to push me away. She is driving me mad! One moment she would be clawing at me, then the next she would turn me away as if I had the plague!” Aemond exclaimed and accepted a goblet of wine from the maester. “I should not even mention the scenes she caused yesterday at court and the ordeal in the small council,” Aemond added with a heavy sigh as his guards delivered to him the tongue of Lord Tawley earlier that afternoon. 

As a silence fell upon them, Aemond turned to the old man, his milky eyes pointed at the fire as he assessed his king’s predicament. “Well?” Aemond asked impatiently. “I… It would seem to me that the queen is with child,” The maester suddenly announced, and Aemond was left speechless. “When a woman is carrying a babe… There are differences made in their constitution and emotions— in some women, it is less pronounced. However, in others, it is rather volatile, my king.” 

“It is either that the queen is pregnant or she is possessed. If it is the former, you must bring her to see me in the morning… if the latter, then I shall call upon the septons, for this would be beyond my knowledge.” The maester jested, alight with the possibility of the new heir. It had been three years since the queen and king’s marriage, but they had yet to produce a child. None questioned if husband and wife did their duties for all in the castle had been privy to them fulfilling it almost every day, it was just odd that it was only now that they had made a babe, for they had been fornicating like wild rabbits throughout the keep. 

“I-I must go to my wife,” Aemond muttered and quickly left the maester’s towers and ran towards the East wing. 

When Aemond reached the chambers you resided in, he took careful steps as he entered, seeing your sleeping figure rest peacefully on the feathered bed. He debated on how to proceed as he remembered the last time you and he discussed your pregnancy. He had thought you were with child, but you were not. And you only took his words as an insult upon your appearance, accusing him that he believed you had grown stout. Aemond could not have that again, especially as you had refused food because you believed that your husband had thought you had become pudgy. 

Aemond sighed heavily as he carefully occupied the right side of your bed, a pillow placed upon it in which you clutched tightly. Aemond suddenly felt jealous of it— that pillow you held was supposed to be him! He frowned at himself as he realized he, too, was growing unreasonable for placing his jealousy on a pillow. Aemond sighed and ran his fingers through your hair, watching as you stirred. “My heart,” He called softly and watched as your eyes blinked in confusion before finally turning to him. A look of recognition shone through your gaze before it turned annoyed. “What are you doing here? Leave.” You muttered and tried to return to sleep, but Aemond denied your request. 

“I said leave!” You grumbled once more, but you only felt as your husband lay down next to you and took you in his arms. “No.” He boldly replied, and you tried to wriggle out of his hold. “I know about the… the babe,” he whispered, and you froze. You breathed out heavily as you looked upon the lilac eye of your husband, feeling as his fingers tucked away a stray lock of your hair. “It took you long enough,” You muttered, finally conceding. You didn’t truly know how to say it to him— how to announce that you were with child because it too had taken you by surprise. But they do say that actions speak louder than words, and so… you only placed hints that you were finally carrying his heir. 

Aemond breathed out a laugh and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Why did you not just tell me?” He questioned and pulled you closer to him. You were quite unpredictable, but Aemond could not comprehend that your unpredictability would also affect this joyous news. “Because… I’m frightened.” You admitted, and through your fright, you had acted irrationally. Now you feel the guilt for what you had subjected your husband to over the past days. He was not deserving of it, for he had always been devoted to you, and you only repaid him with your temperamental behavior. 

“My mother died whilst giving birth to my brother— even if my father had worshiped the ground she walked upon… he still chose the babe whose first breath was also his last. He chose him over his wife, and I fear that I shall befall the same fate.” You confessed, and Aemond could only cup your cheeks as you took in a shaky breath. “I won’t ask again who you will choose because I know you must choose the babe… but I a—“ 

“I would choose you, my heart,” Aemond whispered, the decision clear in his heart. Though he knew he needed heirs— that you both were ready for children of your own— but if gods forbid that he is given such a choice, he knew he’d choose you; he would always choose you. You shook your head, “No. You need an heir— It is my duty to provide you with a—“ 

Aemond kissed your lips shut. “Your duty, my little wife, is to be by my side. Your duty is to simply be here — to drive me mad with your games, with your impossible questions, and your love. Your duty is to be my other half. Not some broodmare who would dispense my heirs.” Aemond clarified, thinking that would settle the fear in your heart, but he was mortified to see tears in your enchanting eyes. Now he realized that he’d prefer for you to look at him through your anger than your tears. 

“How could you be so kind and devoted when I have been nothing but horrible the past days?!” You cried as you sat up, your husband quickly pulling you into his hold once more. Aemond breathed out in slight amusement and combed his fingers through your hair. “If you are asking me to be anything less, then I am afraid I must deny you, my heart,” Aemond murmured against your head. You took in a deep breath and moved to kiss his lips, showing your love and gratitude that had been muddled in translation over the past days. 

“You are aware that my mood shall only worsen in the upcoming moons,” You informed as you two parted for breath. Aemond could only smile, “I know, my heart.” He answered, and you frowned. “Are you not at least concerned for yourself?” You asked. “No. I have said it before— you could burn and bury me alive, and I shall bear it with a smile just as long as it was by your hands,  ñuha prūmia.” You breathed out heavily and intertwined your lips, your arms circling his neck as you pulled him down the bed. 

“We’re still allowed to fuck even though I’m pregnant, yes?” You questioned, and Aemond let out a laugh as all of your chasteness truly did disappear the moment you two became husband and wife. “Yes, ñuha prūmia. And I do believe it is encouraged… it helps you find relief.” Aemond smirked and bent down to kiss your lips once more, but you only pushed on his shoulders and urged him to place his kisses downwards. 

You sighed in content as you felt his cool lips upon the inside of your thighs, his long hair brushing against your skin like a silken veil. The way Aemond worshipped you—especially now, with new life growing inside you—made you feel divine, unearthly, adored. And gods, how you needed that right now. As his lips traveled lower, his hands caressed the sides of your thighs, patient and reverent. You buried your fingers in his hair, letting your head fall back against the pillows, a soft moan escaping your lips as his tongue finally found you—slow, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to relearn every part of you. 

“You taste different,” he murmured against you with a quiet hum. “Fuller. Sweeter.” He added, and you feel his tongue lick a clean line between your slit once more.“Is that your way of saying I’m getting fat?” you teased breathlessly, though your hips lifted in silent encouragement.

Aemond glanced up, lips glistening, his eye dark with heat and amusement. “I’d say you’ve never looked more radiant, but if you insist on testing me again, my queen, I might have to answer with my tongue instead of words.” You gasped, cheeks aflamed as his lips clasped upon your throbbing pearl. “You’re insufferable.” You moaned out. “And you’re insatiable,” he countered, pressing another slow kiss to your inner thigh before returning to his worship.

As the minutes dragged deliciously on, you writhed beneath him, hands tangled in the sheets, cries muffled against your wrist as you bit down to keep from screaming— though it was pointless for the castle had heard you screaming your husband’s name time and time again. Aemond’s grip on your thighs tightened just as your peak crested, and he drank in your release as if it were the most delectable wine from Dorne.

You trembled as he climbed back up your body, licking his lips clean of you, eyes blazing. “Still worried I don’t love you more than my sword?” he asked, his silky voice husky and edged with laughter. You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes hooded, lips swollen. “I’m beginning to think you love me more than you love breathing.” You sighed in bliss.

“That I do,” he said simply. And with that, he slid inside you—slow, deep, and teasing. He knew well that you did not enjoy tender strokes, not as much as you enjoyed a brazen fuck. Aemond hissed as your nails dug into his shoulders, watching as you bit your lip as he hit the exact spot he knew would turn you putty in his hands. “Stop teasing me, my love, I think you forget I’m still quite cross with you,” You breathed out, and Aemond dipped down to place a kiss on your ample breast. “Apologies, my heart,” He whispered against your skin as his thrust began to grow rapid. “Is… Is that better, little wife?” He gritted out, his voice barely heard as the room echoed with the sound of your slapping skins and your moans. 

You could not even reply, consumed by the feel of your husband’s cock. You pulled him closer to you, wrapping your legs around his waist and letting your lips seek his. “Do you think the court would be alarmed if I… I woke them up with my screams?” You questioned, breathless. Your husband only smirked. “I believe they’re quite used to it already, my heart.” He muttered, letting his hand go downward to rub circles on your aching pearl. Aemond hissed as he felt the familiar clench of your cunt once more, and the moans you spewed were music to his ears. 

“Oh… oh gods— I—“ You said, distraught, your chest heaving as the mere feel of your husband was all too much and all too overwhelming. As you came undone, Aemond was quick to follow suit, your name slipping from his lips as his cock was fully sheathed within you. You reached upwards and pulled him down once again, feeling your slick skin tangle. “I love you,” You could not help but say, and you hear a satisfied hum and a grin emerge from Aemond’s lips. “Then I am the luckiest man who will ever live,” 

“No.” You said, stubborn as your husband and the castle’s head maester tried to reason with you. “But—“ Aemond tried to speak, but your glaring eyes made him cease. “This discussion is over! The kingdom will not know that I am with child so soon!” You protested, and the maester turned to the king, wagering that he would yield to your wants, just as always. 

“Do you not understand what shall happen to me if the kingdom shall come to know? Your insipid council will insist on locking me in our chambers in fear that something shall happen to the babe! Not to mention that my father would race here with a militia of maesters and maids!” You said in great annoyance whilst your husband pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Then what do you wish for us to do? Hide your bump under your skirts until we just surprise the kingdom once the babe pops out of your womb?” Aemond questioned incredulously, but you only nodded. “Yes!” 

“That is ridi—“ Aemond almost said once more, but he quickly hindered himself at the threatening look in your eyes. “It is not feasible, my heart.” Aemond sighed, but you shook your head. “Might I say something, your majesties?” The maester hesitantly asked, eyeing you warily. 

“I agree with the queen’s intent to an extent… You need not announce to the kingdom about the babe so soon… perhaps when she reaches the middle of her second stage, then can you make the announcements.” He suggested, and Aemond looked hopeful at the maester’s proposition, looking at your reaction. When he heard a sigh leave your lips and saw the annoyed roll of your eyes, he then knew you agreed. 

“Fine.” You gritted out, and the two men before you smiled in relief. “Great! Well, the babe is quickening… I estimate that he or she was conceived a month and a half ago, it would seem. I do implore you to eat more, your majesty— you both would need great nourishment,” 

“I shall see to it,” Aemond answered, and a scoff left your lips as you could already foresee your husband force-feeding you throughout the day. “Very well, if that is all, my king, my queen— I must take my leave. Congratulations once again.” The maester said, a ghost of a smile on his lips, for after three long years, the heir of the throne was finally to come. 

“Why are you still here?” You suddenly questioned as your husband took a leisurely seat on his chair that was next to yours. Aemond let out a breath of a laugh. “You were begging with me to stay with you just days before, and now you are shooing me away?” He questioned as he took a book into his hands. “Do you not have to hold council?” You asked further, and your husband just hummed. “No.” 

When Aemond saw the further confusion on your frowning gaze, he sighed and reached to hold your hand. “I did promise you that we would have a week to ourselves each month, didn’t I? Well, that week should start now. You have me all to yourself for the next seven days,” Aemond explained, but that did not lessen the confusion you harbored. 

“Then who shall hold court?” You questioned. “My lord hand,” He responded.

“Who shall oversee the small councils and their decisions?” Aemond sighed and caressed with his thumb the back of your hand. “They are grown men, my heart— they need not their king to breathe down their neck for each decision they make.” 

“Then what of your training with the sword?” You asked, knowing your husband could never abandon such customs. “I shall have it during midday, in the courtyard, whilst you have your luncheon.” You narrowed your eyes, calculating your husband’s responses. “What of your reading?” Aemond raised the book in his hands. “I am reading right now, my heart.” He said, another round of your questions and interrogation. 

You hummed in thought, turning upon your husband who read whilst he held your hand. “Very well, since you are here now… might we discuss the name of our babe?” You asked and watched him still for a moment before closing his book once more, and nodded. 

“As much as I am fond of your family’s names and their redundance… with it even causing a confusion over the throne— I’d rather give our babe a name that would not cause a war,” You say, and Aemond breathed in a deep breath. “As much as I miss my brother, I truly would rather not name him Aegon.” He said, and you nodded. “Good, we are in agreement.” 

“What of Aemon?” Aemond questioned, and he frowned as well as you frowned further, “Do not be so full of yourself, husband— it is not attractive.” You said, and Aemond let out a scoff as such words left your lips. “Says the woman whose cat’s middle name is hers,” He muttered and turned to your aging cat that rested on a velvet pillow on the floor. You only rolled your eyes. “I rather like the name Jacaerys,” You said in a tease, and a look of suppressed anger flashed in his eye. “I’d burn the entire kingdom before I name my child after a bastard,” He said and watched as a teasing grin came to your lips. 

“But what if our babe is a girl?” You suddenly questioned and watched your husband’s reaction. Aemond felt his hands slightly grow cold. If you two were to have a girl, it would mean there would now be two of you he’d have to appease and dote upon. Aemond could not help but smile widely at the thought. “I propose a compromise. If our babe is a girl, then you, my heart, shall name her. And if it is a boy, then I shall name him… with your approval, of course.” Aemond said, and his heart fluttered as the frown finally dissolved from your brows. “I am not opposed to that,” you say, and Aemond took the back of your intertwined hands to his lips and placed upon them a lingering kiss. 

The day of your labor was quicker to come than Aemond had expected. Three moons before you were expected to give birth, the king and queen had finally announced to the entire kingdom the joyous news that the heir to the throne was to come. You were reluctant to do it that early, of course, if you had it your way, you would have let them know once the babe had already arrived. However, as your gowns could no longer hide your swollen bump and your temper could no longer be excused with the same frayed excuses, you had no choice but to finally announce your pregnancy. 

Just as you had thought, the moment your pregnancy was announced, your father rushed from Casterly Rock to Kingslanding and with him came maesters, maids, and a mountain of gifts for you and the babe growing in your womb. 

Aemond paced nervously outside of your chambers, hearing your ragged breath and pained groans was torture for him. He took in deep breaths as he heard you let out a loud grunt, your sounds of pain and struggle prominent as the castle was rendered silent as they anticipated the birth of their new prince or princess. Traditionally, there was a week of feasting and tourneys scheduled during the birth of a royal child; you, however, insisted that it should be moved after you had given birth, for you did not wish to be abed whilst the kingdom was drowning in merriment. 

“Get me my husband,” You panted as you fisted the sheets of your bed, not out of pleasure like you were used to, but rather in excruciating pain. “My queen, the king is not supposed to be pr—“ 

“I don’t fucking care! Get me my Aemond!” You roared at one of the maesters who dared to go against your orders. Before anyone could move, Aemond heard your call and readily entered the room without care for the customs they deem to be proper. “I’m here, my heart,” Aemond announced and hurriedly went by your side to take hold of your hands, wincing at the tight grip. “My king, you sho—“ 

“I’ve cut out seven tongues during this pregnancy, maester— try not to be the eighth,” You hissed as the maester was insistent that your husband should not be by your side. You turned to Aemond, who dabbed a cloth upon your sweated brow, concern filling his lone eye as you were consumed by pain. “I— I do not think I can do it,” You cried as you felt another twisting pain, gripping your husband’s hand tighter. 

“Of course you can, ñuha prūmia.” Aemond murmured. “I am here,” He said, and you let out a stifled scream as you could no longer bear the pain. Aemond held his breath as you panted heavily, the maesters and wet nurse now gathered by your feet as the babe was crowning. 

“P—Promise me you’ll choose our babe. Disregard all that I had said—“ You said, distraught, as your eyes were tightly shut. When you forced them open, you looked upon your husband, who turned pale. Aemond glanced towards the bloodied sheets of the bed, the anxious looks exchanged by the maesters, and the weakened, pained expression in your eyes. “No.” He said stubbornly. “I had promised I would choose you, and I do not intend to break that promise.” 

You groaned as the maesters urged you to push, “Do not be stubborn, Aemond.” You managed to say as you fell back on the pillows, the whole of your body feeling as if it was being torn apart. Aemond glanced towards the maesters once more, consumed by hushed whispers on how to deliver the babe. They need not say anything, but he knew there was trouble brewing. “You will not leave me, ñuha prūmia.” Aemond gritted out harshly as your eyes were on the ceiling, preparing yourself to push once more. “You cannot leave me. If you do, that child will be an orphan for I shall soon follow,” Aemond said as he urged you to turn to him. 

You managed to let out a breath of a laugh at your husband’s words. Seeing the clear fear in his eye. “Do not be ridiculous, my love. Our babe shall need you,” you whispered, your heart feeling the same dread your mother must have felt during her labours with your late brother. “My king… the babe is breached,” The head maester said in dread, looking upon the king who was consumed by fear and the queen who seemed to already know her fate. 

You made your husband turn to you, a tired smile on your lips, and you took the back of his hand closer to your heart. “I shall be fine, my love.” You say reassuringly, but Aemond only shook his head, his eye welling with tears that wished to cascade down his cheeks, but he was stubborn. “You need to push again, my queen,” One of the maids informed, and you gave one last look towards your husband, praying the gods that by the end of this torment, your babe would be delivered safely. 

Aemond could only kneel beside you in fear as your face reddened and contorted in pain as you gave an intensive effort to bring forth the babe. When Aemond watched as you fell down the pillows once more, and the sound of your babe’s cries, his heart ceased for a moment. “It’s a boy, your grace— It’s a boy!” The maester rejoiced, urging their king to hold his newborn son. However, Aemond could not be pried from your side.

“I’m… I’m fine, my love. Go, see our son,” You say breathlessly, turning to your husband with your tired smile. Aemond only shook his head. “Check upon your queen!” He barked at the maesters and maids, still fearing that there would be a complication that would arise the moment he let go of your hands. “You’re being paranoid, Aemond. Go, bring me our child.” You say as the maesters once again gathered by your feet to assess if all seemed normal. 

Aemond reluctantly did as you told, ushering the wetnurse to come closer to him and making her place the babe in one of his arms whilst his other hand still held yours. You smiled through your tiredness, the image of your husband with your son in your arms, placing an ache in your heart. You looked upon the babe who stirred in Aemond’s arm, a blob of pink with the familiar silver hair of your husband, but his eyes were yours. “Why… why is he so large? I knew you were feeding me too much,” You sighed tiredly as your husband distractedly looked upon the maesters who breathed out in relief as no complications seemed to befall you. 

When what you said finally registered in Aemond’s mind, he let out a laugh. “Do not blame me, my heart— you were the one who weighed two stones when you were born.” He murmured and placed a kiss upon your forehead, your eyes still glued upon your son. “Here,” Aemond whispered and placed him in your arms, but Aemond frowned as you tried to undo his swaddle. “I want to count his fingers and toes,” You say, knowing that some of the members of your husband’s family had little mutations. It is not that your love for your son would lessen— you just wanted to make certain that he was completely healthy.

Aemond bit back his smile and hindered you, “He’s perfect, my heart.” You breathed out and decided that you would count his little digits later. “What name have you chosen, my love?” You then asked, as Aemond was insistent on keeping his desired name hidden for the past nine moons. 

“Aelorion… a perfect name for a dragon and lion prince, is it not?” Aemond questioned, and you smiled with a nod. Aemond smiled, mirroring you, and he placed a chaste kiss on your lips before taking hold of your babe, finally letting you rest.

Years had passed, and through the years came more heirs for the throne. The anxiety your first pregnancy had caused still haunted Aemond. He could not bear to be in a state of not knowing— he could not bear to subject you to more hours of labour and pain. However, you were insistent on bearing a girl. 

The moment you were informed by the maesters that you could once again be intimate with your husband, nothing could restrain you from mounting Aemond each night. And even though your husband could never truly have enough of you, there were moments when he would sometimes feel overwhelmed and spent from your constant coupling. However, with just one suggestive look from your enchanting eyes and a kiss from your lips, he knew he’d rather be beaten by tiredness than deny you. 

Within four years, you and your husband conceived three more babies. Your second pregnancy came with your secondborn, Prince Aemon, obliging your husband with a name similar to his as the babe was born near his name day. You thought it fitting, as the babe was truly the second coming of your husband, the second-born prince even had the same lone lilac eye of his father, while his other eye was the color of sapphire.

 Then your third pregnancy came with two babies, Prince Aelion and Prince Aerion, twin princes who were the spitting image of their mother, as their hair did not turn silver but rather gold. Then, finally, your fourth and what you had hoped would be your final pregnancy came. You had been begging the gods to gift you a girl, one you could spend your days with and spoil just as you were raised. 

Though you did love your sons, they were becoming too much like their father, always consumed with their lessons and training with the sword, even if they were just mere tots, to the point that you would even have to be the one to convince them to go and play with the other court children. However, your sons were just like their father, stoic and serious. They did, however, inherit your stubbornness, which unfortunately was a tool against you. 

Aemond hummed in content as his hand rested on your bump, and the other held a book. Your four sons were present in your chambers and were seated by your feet whilst you were again embroidering a little dress. Aemond bit the inside of his cheeks as he turned towards a pile of embroidered dresses for a little princess that you had been making and collecting since your second pregnancy. 

“You’ve already made hundreds, my heart— surely those should suffice,” Aemond suddenly said, concerned, fearing that when your labors came, you may once again be slightly disappointed if you were not given a girl. He did not know how many more pregnancies you and the court could take. It would seem that even through multiple conceptions, your temper never died down. The courtiers had to walk on eggshells each time it was announced that their queen was with child, knowing you had a penchant for severely punishing those who would cross you without another word. 

With your current pregnancy, however, all had noticed a shift in your demeanour. Gone was the ill temper from the queen; she was now more serene. Though none dared to make such comparisons as they feared to provoke the lioness. 

“Believe me, my love, I had more. I simply wish for our babe to be as loved as I was,” You say, turning to your sons, who all wore proudly the expensive silks, satins, and delicate embroidery you acquired for them. “You spoil our children too much,” Aemond sighed. “And what good did it do me? Do you know what your eldest asked for on his upcoming name day? A belt! A mere belt, Aemond. He is but four years old! What would he even do with a belt?” You asked incredulously as your sons inherited the practical mind of your husband, even if you had tried to influence them with the extravagance you grew up with. 

Aemond grinned as he looked upon Aelorion, showing his twin siblings a new move he learned with his wooden sword whilst Aemon occupied himself with a book, even though the princeling was yet to learn how to read. “And I thought perhaps he wanted a gold belt— maybe with gems upon it like my father wears… but no, he wishes for a plain leather belt,” You muttered in great concern and confusion as you still could not believe your son only wanted a leather belt. 

“But you have acquired it already, I assume?” Aemond questioned. “Yes. I bought seven kinds… and…” You trailed, your husband raising a brow. “I got him a little suit and armor— one that looks like yours. Oh, you should see it! It’s absolutely adorable! I didn’t even know that they could make armor that tiny.” You gushed, and Aemond bit his lip as you truly could not help but spoil your children. It did not matter to him that you were somewhat careless in spending the crown’s gold, for in truth, the only reason it overflowed was because of your dowry. And besides, whatever price you decided to spend could never amount to the enchanting look in your eyes as you tried to spoil your children. 

You sighed in contempt as you looked down upon your bump, placing your hand atop Aemond’s, who had grown to the habit of letting his rest there. “My heart, I know you believe our babe is a gi—“ 

“She is a girl,” you sang, already knowing your husband’s skepticism. “You have been saying that since Aemon’s conception— I just fear you might grow disappointed again… I know you love our sons, but I also know you long for a daughter, but ñuha prūmia, I do not think I can risk you to yet another pregnancy,” Aemond murmured and leaned closer to you, who pursed your lips. “I want a daughter, Aemond.” The king could only sigh. “You have promised me you shall give me all that I have wished for,” 

“I know, and I will— but thi—“ You shook your head, “This is what I want the most, my love. You cannot be so cruel as to deny me a girl. You already have four boys to follow in your footsteps— but what do I have? Sure, they call upon me when they wail and when they are frightened or running away from you, but any other time, they follow you along like little ducklings and then leave me behind.” You pouted and glanced towards your four boys. “Just one girl, Aemond. I just want one.” You whispered, imploring your husband to understand. When a grievous breath left his lips, you knew he conceded. 

“Very well— but if that babe in your womb is still a boy, we must wait at least two more years before we try for a girl again,” Aemond said, and you mindlessly nodded as you knew you would not oblige his order. It was not as if he could deny you during the nights— what is he to do? Force you to drink moon tea? “Very well,” You muttered, both of you knowing you shall not abide. 

When the day of your labours came once more, Aemond kneeled beside you, consumed by his nerves, but after three past pregnancies and four births, you had grown accustomed to such ordeals— a statement your husband could not say as well. 

 “You must be prepared to push, my queen,” A maester said as they had once again gathered by your feet. “I know, maester,” You said, fully knowledgeable of what to do. You turned to your husband, who was wrapped in anxiousness. Your grip on his hand had turned lax as you had grown somewhat accustomed to the pain of pushing out babies to the point that Aemond held your hand tighter than you held his. 

“Seriously, my love, you act as if you are the one to give birth,” You sighed as Aemond’s lips were moving soundlessly, consumed with his prayers to the gods. Aemond had become the most devout man in the seven kingdoms each time his wife began her labours. 

This time around, you barely had to push before both of you heard the cries of your babe. “It’s a girl— a girl, my queen!” A wetnurse rejoiced as all had known that you were one to insist on having a princess. You smiled widely, looking at your husband’s widened eyes. “How was it so quick?” He could not help but mutter as he glanced towards the nurses who bundled your new babe in a swaddle. 

You only smiled further as the little princess you had been waiting for came without fuss. It would seem your system was more inclined to carry and birthing girls. None had said a word to you, but you knew you were easier to appease during your fifth pregnancy, and your temper and disposition no longer raged as they did when you carried your sons. 

“Hello, my little princess,” You cooed as your daughter was handed to you, her eyes that shone like amethysts wide open, staring at the woman who had waited impatiently for her arrival. Aemond could not believe that his heart could grow fuller, but at the sight of you and your daughter, the two most important women in his life from now on, he felt his stone-cold heart could explode. “I believe it is your turn to name our child, ñuha prūmia,” He whispered as he looked upon the babe who already resembled her mother. 

“My little Aeleora,” You declared, looking longingly upon your babe. “I already have so many tiaras for you,” You could not help but murmur, and Aemond bit his lip as he placed a kiss upon your temple. Husband and wife enjoyed a few more moments of serene quiet before they heard the pounding and call of their four sons, who were as impatient as ever to meet their little sister. 

Aemond sat by the foot of your bed and watched as your sons hurriedly waddled their way to your side, enthusiastically trying to catch a glimpse of the babe in your arms. Aemond reached downwards and lifted up your twins, who crawled to your side, you smiling upon your eldest, who looked mesmerized by his new sister. 

“Father,” Aemon suddenly called, his little hand holding onto the swaddle of Aeleora so they could see the little princess’ face more clearly. “When could we have another sister?” He then asked, and you let out a laugh at your second son’s request. “But your mother had just given birth,” He said incredulously. 

“Father, I want five sisters! We need thr— no, four more!” Aelorion suddenly declared, and your smile only widened as you looked upon Aemond, who was rendered speechless. You watched as your husband shook his head, but you only leaned closer to your sons. “You shall have everything you ask for, my little princes.” You promised and smiled at their cheers, looking upon your husband, who could only smile as well as he could never deny any of your requests. And why should he? It is only because of you that he has gotten all that he could ever want and wish for— he could not be so cruel to deny you of anything. All had known it long ago, the king would forever give and do all you asked of him.

[eraenaa]

Neglected Promises

Aemond Targaryen x Clingy Lannister Reader

Synopsis: It would seem that after three years of marriage, Aemond had begun to neglect his wife and the promises he told her.

Warnings: Clingy/Spoiled Reader, Aemond being a simp for his wife, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Mature, 18+, Semi-Public Relations, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 6,050

Prequel: Impatient and Desperate

You were being neglected by your husband. YOU, who had never known anything but devotion, adoration, and had grown up with constant affection, were now being neglected by your king husband, who had promised you nothing less than what you were accustomed to. 

It started in small ways. He, who had always been punctual, had been growing tardy each time you two had decided to meet for the day. Offering the same excuse that he was consumed by the small council and the dealings needed for the kingdom. You at first had voiced out your disagreement, but in time, you turned silent because you supposed the kingdom you two ruled did have to come first. 

Then he began to miss your nightly supper. Having you wait before the long table in your royal apartments with food growing tepid and your patience wearing thin. He would apologize ceaselessly before you until he had grown too accustomed to your forgiveness that he no longer sought it. 

In truth, perhaps you could have turned a blind eye upon that; you have been warned by the others that your penchant for attention would one day be your doom, but you did not know it would come this soon. And you certainly did not foresee that your husband would break his vows and oaths in just three short years of your marriage. 

Your breaking point came during one random night. Earlier that day, Aemond had forgotten to break his fast with you in the gardens, and nor did he come for supper, leaving you wistfully in your chambers. It was the hour of the owl when he returned to your chambers, you lying on your side of the bed, wide awake, waiting for him, but pretending to be fast asleep. Every night since your marriage, before he would drift into slumber, he would place a kiss upon your temple before scooping you in his arms. That night, however, as he settled into his side and you impatiently waited for him to perform such traditions, he never did; he only curled into the right side of the bed, his back away from you, and slept soundly the moment his head was placed on the feathered pillow. 

You reeled in agony at your husband’s neglect. You could no longer pretend that you could settle for such treatments that were certainly below anything that you believed you deserved. At the moment, you began to doubt the love your dear husband had for you, something you thought could never be. 

“You are to go hunting?” You questioned, a tone of coldness now present in your voice each time you addressed your husband. You were in your shared chambers when he arrived earlier than you had expected, the sun had barely set, and the moon was still to rise. You thought that his presence was the harbinger that all would return to normal, to how it ought to be. However, it was simply a ploy to be in your good graces, as he had a request. “Yes, my heart… it is for Lord Wylde’s name day. As he is my master of laws, I must oblige him with this.” Aemond explained as he kneeled before you, who was seated by the fire, even though it was summertime. Even the warm weather could no longer thaw the coldness your husband’s neglect had presented. 

“And I assume only the men of the court are invited?” You questioned, jealousy spiking within you as you knew all too well what transpired when men gathered for their own feasts. Images of your husband surrounded by cheap and perfumed whores infiltrate your mind. “Aye,” Aemond muttered, looking intently upon you, who only stared at the fire, your tiara that matched his sitting prettily upon your head. “How long?” 

“They proposed four days, my heart.” He answered truthfully. Aemond prepared himself for your disagreement, your stubbornness that would urge him to lessen the days or for him to not attend at all. It is not that he truly wished to attend, but this was a matter of the crown— even if he was king, there were certain things he must do to oblige his allies. 

He watched as you pursed your lips, still not turning your gaze upon him. He tried to reach for your hand, but you quickly stood. “You are the king, you need not ask my permission… but very well then— enjoy the hunt, dearest.” You said coldly and marched out of your chambers, temporarily confusing Aemond. He knew something was not right— where was your defiance? Your disagreement? Your reply was so… unlike you. He knew he should have pressed the matter further, but seeing that he still had an appointment with the small council, he let it go for now as he thought it was a sign of you maturing. That you were no longer the little girl he knew who would throw a fit when she believed she was not bestowed the right amount of attention and devotion. 

When the day of the hunt came, Aemond had awoken before first light. The night before, he had gone to bed before you, and now, as he woke, you, who would usually pull and urge him back to bed, did not move. Aemond had already finished dressing himself; the only thing he needed to wear was his eyepatch, but he did not because he waited for you to pull at his arm and place your touch upon his cheek. You would tenderly stroke the scar that ran up from his cheek to his brow, peppering light kisses on his scars. You did no such thing today— or even in the past days, as Aemond had realized. 

“I shall see you in four days, my heart,” Aemond whispered as he bent down to place a kiss on your lips, but you only shifted and turned away from him. The king sighed and instead settled with a kiss upon your head, letting his fingers comb through your hair, a small action that only now he realized that he had desperately missed and had not done in so long. “I’ve left a small gift for you by the table,” Aemond added, thinking that the mention of a shiny trinket would urge you to finally acknowledge him. It did not. Aemond sighed once more and bent down again to place a kiss on your bare shoulders, where a beauty mark was placed, and he took it as a spot to place his kisses. “I shall be with you in four days, I promise.” 

Aemond’s promise was broken. It took him five gruelling days to return to the Red Keep, as a sudden storm came on their last day, which had prevented them from travelling. The king could only imagine his wife’s fury. He had written to her constantly whilst he was in the Kingswood, knowing that when he would return to the Red Keep, he must tame the lion’s anger as he had broken his promise. Before this, the longest time spent apart between husband and wife was a mere three days, and it was all because of the war for the throne— the king could already foresee his queen spewing her anger, as it was only rain that prevented him from returning when she herself journeyed through war just to reach him. 

It was night when Aemond returned to the castle walls. When he entered his chambers, overly tired from his journey and the days of hunting, he quickly ordered a bath as he had no wish to face his queen in such a state. The moon was in the midst of the sky as Aemond sat newly bathed on your marital bed and waited for your presence. However, he could not do so as his fatigue had overcome him, and he fell promptly asleep. 

When the following morning broke, Aemond woke in panic. His sleep-riddled mind was forced to wake, his arm desperately feeling the left side of the bed for your presence, but it was painfully absent. The king peeled his lone eye open, seeing how your side was still made, and it was painfully obvious that you did not come to bed that night. Then he slowly started to realize that the bedding he lay upon was the bedding he had before you two were married. It was not the luxurious silk you had ordered from Lys that you argued was the only thing your skin was accustomed to— it was some local linen that Aemond had always believed was more practical.

He then sat up, looking upon your marital chambers that had reverted to his old one before you two were married. Those tapestries you had bought from YiTi are now absent; your vanity table, which was against the windows, is gone, and even the portrait of you that Aemond commissioned during your courtship no longer hangs on the wall. The king blinked rapidly, believing he was in some twisted nightmare. He quickly stood from the bed and noted the absence of the velvet carpet that you had hauled all the way from Lannisport. 

He looked upon the head of the bed and saw that the plethora of pillows you needed for sleep was now gone. He turned to the fireplace and noted that his armchair was no longer in the company of the settee upon which you lounged in the afternoons. Aemond rushed to the wet room and opened the large wardrobe that was filled to the brink with your gowns and which only left a small sliver of space for his own garments. It was painfully and obviously empty now— his few tunics and doublets barely filling the vast space.

The king did not even dress properly before he rushed out into the halls, calling out for your name like a crazed man. He had awoken the castle in his panic, the court stirring in their beds as their king yelled for his queen. When Aemond came across a squire who was about to deliver a fresh set of linen to his master, he abruptly took the boy by the arm and harshly questioned him as to where his wife was. “I…  I do not know your majesty! I—“ Aemond shoved him away and quickly rushed to the gardens, believing you would be there, waiting for him. 

He called out your name once more, alarming the birds and insects in the gardens. It was only when the king’s cries were heard by a knight that Aemond found his answer. “My king… the queen has gone to her father’s home— had left only a few moments after you had journeyed for the hunt.” 

“And what of our chambers? Who then had done that? Tell me so I could cage them in black cells!” Aemond questioned. His pitted heart erratically thumping in his chest. “I… I believe it was the queen herself, my king. I heard her order the maids to place her belongings in a chamber in the East wing.” The knight replied, watching as the stoic king recoiled as he could not imagine his own queen would do such actions. 

Just moons before, the castle had to walk on eggshells as their king and queen had grown quite fond of giving in to moments of passion at any time of the day and in any room in the castle. Now, it would seem they are witnessing how their marriage was unraveling. 

Aemond gritted his jaw and left the knight in the gardens, now rushing towards the East wing— the furthermost wing in the castle that his wife had chosen to place space that she once loathed between them. As he entered the room, he bore witness the separate chambers his queen had planned to reside in. He barked for a maid, the poor woman now in the presence of the raging king. “Return my wife’s items back to our chambers— now!” He roared. 

Aemond was to return to his own chambers to dress in his riding leathers to ride atop his dragon and retrieve his wife. However, as his eye caught a glint of a gem left on the table beside your bed, the king’s blood ran cold. He took into his hands the sapphire pendant he had gifted you during your fourteenth name day, now discarded. You had promised him that no matter what, you would never take it off— that it would be constantly around your neck as a reminder of his devotion and love for you, but you could no longer fill that said devotion and love, and you only thought it was best to take off that reminder of broken promises. 

Aemond clenched his fist around the pendant, letting the gem dent his palm. You, his spoiled little wife, were throwing a fit. You were making a fuss for attention. And at any other time, Aemond would gladly bestow upon you all the attention that you craved, but now, you had wounded him too. 

The king forgoed his plans of riding to Casterly Rock that morning. Deciding that perhaps it was his turn to play cold and throw a fit. He knew his wife could not stomach being away from him too long… he firmly believed that by the week’s end, she would be writing him a letter urging him to come for her, and only then would Aemond yield. In this matter, Aemond oathed to himself he would not be the first to come crawling— let his wife seek him out. 

Aemond’s oath was once again broken because by the week’s end, his wife made no plan to seek him out. He could no longer sleep alone in his bed when his body was craving for her frame. He could no longer stomach his meals when you were not there with him, urging him to eat more. He could no longer even concentrate on his duties because he knew that by the end of it, you would not be waiting for him and would be the reason for his rest. 

And so, the king yielded and rode atop his dragon and flew towards Casterly Rock with a band of crates on the ground filled with gifts he would use to coax his wife to return to him. When Aemond landed on the usual hill that he would leave Vhagar during the times he would visit you during your courtship. He was greeted by a militia. Aemond raised his brow as the men did nothing to acknowledge their king, only stood as if ready for an attack.

“Is this how the Westerlands greet their king?!” Aemond questioned, his rage and impatience no longer tame, as the one who had a hold over it was now hiding inside her father’s walls. No one dared answer or move. If it were not your father’s men, Aemond would have ordered his dragon to burn every single one of them, but alas, he could no longer place further strife in your marriage. And so, he exercised his patience as he was given a puny horse so he could finally see his wife. 

“I’m so glad you’re back home, my darling.” Lord Lannister smiled fondly as he finally had luncheon with his daughter once more, just as they did when she was just a girl. “Thank you for not turning me away, father,” You said quietly, mood still filled with melancholy as it had been already been a week, yet your husband still had not sought you out.

Lord Lannister sighed. “This is your home— you are always welcome here, my darling. I do not care who you had married— even if they had changed your name, the blood that flows through your veins is still Lannister gold and your home will always be Casterly Rock.” You smiled sadly and continued to eat your soup. 

“And as for your husband… I take no pleasure in saying this, but… I have told you, my darling, he is not deserving of you. I do not care if he is king; he has promised us both that he will never neglect you. But what has he done? Had left you discarded, stewing in your own sadness. You do not deserve such a man, my child.” You bit your tongue as your father said such words, a part of you wished to defend Aemond, to reason that he is simply consumed by his duties, but you could not do so as you too had your own duties but had always alloted time for him— just as your father had done for your mother when she lived. “But never mind him now, my darling— you are now where you truly belong. And no king shall ever squander away th—“

“My lord!” A squire then suddenly called out, barging into the private dining room of the keep. “The king— he is near the gates.” The squire panted, and your heart momentarily jumped because your husband finally came for you. But you were immediately overcome with the thought that once he had you again, that once you were back in the Red Keep, he would once again neglect you, ignore you, and leave you be. 

“I do not wish to see him.” You suddenly announced, turning to your father with tears brimming in your eyes— a thing he could never tolerate. “Return to your chambers, my darling. I shall settle this,” He reassured, placing a chaste kiss on your head before you did as he told. 

“The king has come, I assume?” Your knight, Ser Adam the questioned as he followed you towards the tower where your chambers were located. He peered over a window, seeing the distant presence of the king who waited impatiently by the gates. “I have told you this before, my queen… but he does not mean to neglect you. H—“

“It matters not that he does not mean to neglect me, for often he does! I, whom he had promised devotion and adoration to every moment of my life as long as we both lived, had become an afterthought!” You grumbled as you entered your chambers. “Do not let him in. I do not care if he is the king— you are sworn to me.” You said, and Ser Adam could only sigh and nod. He often became an unwilling participant in yours and your husband’s troubles, not to mention that he had to bear the misplaced jealousy of the king. It was not his fault that he was often by your side— that was quite literally his duty— a duty that the king himself bestowed upon him. 

“Where is my wife?” Aemond questioned through gritted teeth as your father met him at the gates. He was not even let in. “She is abed, your majesty. She had been feeling quite poorly.” Your father lied, and Aemond was quick to tell. The scarce times that you were ill, it translated greatly in your father’s demeanour, the lord too consumed with concern that he could barely stand. However, now, Lord Lannister stood proudly by the gates of his home and denied the king entrance. 

“It is considered treason to lie to the king,” Aemond said harshly. “And I consider it high treason for my daughter to be glum.”

“This is ridiculous! I demand that you hand over my wife! You forget— you and your land are sworn to me!” Aemond belowed, turning upon the highest tower of Casterly Rock, that he knew where your chambers were located. “I am sworn to my child, the queen. And she has no wish to face you, my king.” 

Aemond gritted his teeth, his fists clenching as he saw a glimpse of you hiding from him in your high tower. “This is all your fault! If you had not indulged her in su—“ Lord Lannister scoffed and shook his head, uncaring that he was showing impertinence because in his mind he was not before the king. No, he was before the man who had caused sadness in his daughter’s heart. 

“I have warned you greatly, my king. Have told you the extent of my daughter's needs and have offered you countless opportunities to back down if you cannot meet such demands— yet you were determined— filled her head with promises that you knew you could not keep!” Lord Lannister admonished. 

“Do you know how she came here? She had been crying her poor heart out as her husband had been neglecting her for moons on end! My daughter— your queen— who had never had a meal alone in her life— who had never had to beg for anyone’s recognition, is often left alone. Waiting for her husband to return to her, but to be only greeted with his disinterest!” Aemond frowned severely at your father’s words. “I am well aware that your duty is to oversee the kingdom. But you have forgotten your first duty to my daughter.” 

With those words, Aemond felt the breath knocked out of him. Only then had he realized his routines over the past moons. How he would no longer oblige you with a few prolonged moments in bed during the mornings, nor would he come to the gardens where you waited to break your fast. He forwent surprising you in court during the afternoons, nor did he do his little rituals in the night of kissing you and scooping you into his arms, because he knew it made you feel safe. He could not even remember the last time the two of you had been intimate— before, he could not even restrain himself for two days without him feeling you underneath him, now, he had lasted three moons without even so much as a passionate kiss from your lips. 

“But… but she had not said anything,” Aemond said lowly, turning towards the tower once more, guilt settling into his system. “She had, my king. She had beseeched you, had she not? Had fought for your attention until you had pushed her so far away that her only course of action was to return home, where others would gladly shower her with the attention she craves.” Aemond shook his head. “That is unreasonable! She sho—“

“My daughter is beyond reason!” Lord Lannister exclaimed. “You yourself have known this. You had grown up with her! I have warned you— all of us had warned you that my daughter is a needy, clingy little thing. We had made our peace with it, and there were hundreds who would have gladly bestow upon her the affection and attention she craves; yet she had chosen you because she had hoped— believed you would have done beyond what they had promised. A pity she was proven wrong.” 

“Then let me speak with her— I shall apologize!” Aemond reasoned, and Lord Lannister scoffed. “Aye, you shall apologize, my daughter shall forgive you, and you shall once again repeat your mistakes. Not again, my king. I would not have you haul her back to the Crownlands just for her to return here with the same grievances made now.” The lord tried to deny the king entry once more, and if it were any other lord, Aemond would have once again struck him down. But seeing it was his beloved wife’s lord father, Aemond could do nothing as he knew if he showed offence towards your father, he might as well consider your marriage annulled. 

“Father!” Your voice suddenly wrung out, catching their attention. They watched as you appeared over a window, a deep frown on your brow. “I shall speak with him,” You announced, your mind fickle as your heart had missed your husband, no matter the grievances he had committed. Lord Lanister sighed, unable to deny his daughter, and finally stepped aside, leaving the king to rush through the halls of Casterly Rock and come to his queen. 

When he reached the highest tower, he was greeted by Ser Adam, who stood guard. Jealousy once again announced itself in Aemond as his wife’s constant companion during his time of neglect was what the kingdom viewed as the most comely knight at their disposal. The knight lowered his gaze and quickly opened your chamber doors before the king placed his anger upon him. 

When Aemond finally entered your chambers, you sat by your sitting area with your pet cat, which had miraculously been still alive, for you had had it since you were a girl, sitting on your lap. Aemond quickly went to your side and kneeled before you, offering his apologies and begging for your forgiveness. “I’m sorry, my heart. I— I did not intend to neglect you as such, I swear! I had not realized my duties had taken up the moments that were meant for you,” Aemond reasoned, taking your hand into his and willing your cold, proud gaze to turn warm for him. 

“You said you would return in four days, yet I hear tell you arrived only four days ago. Tell me, husband, what had preoccupied you for a day?” Aemond frowned at your question, but he quickly offered his explanation. “There was a storm that hindered us from travelling, my heart.” He said, and you hummed. “When did you find out that I am in my father’s home?” 

“The day after I had returned home,” he then answered. “But only now have you come to me? Me, whom you had told and sold the lie that you can never be apart from for even one day in your life,” Aemond fervently shook his head. “That is no lie, my heart.” You raised your brow, “I… I was distraught and angered because you had left me. But I understand now… I promise, it shall never happen again.” 

“You have broken many a promise, Aemond.” You sighed. “You promised me you would break fast with me every day, but you did not. You promised me that we would have at least a week to ourselves each moon, but it has been many moons since our marriage, and I still wait for a day that shall only be ours. You had promised that I would be the first and last thought in your mind for as long as you live, but it would seem I have become an afterthought.” Aemond breathed in harshly, ready to speak once more. “You have even forgotten the day we had made our vows,” You added, uttering the harsh betrayal your husband committed. 

The anniversary of your wedding was two weeks ago, you made no arrangements nor feast as you had wanted to spend the day privately with your husband, but when you had awoken with him already gone from your bed and only felt his presence later that night, you could not even word out your hurt because you beleived he had no longer cared. 

“Oh gods… I did,” Aemond muttered in dread, his gaze flying to the floor he knelt upon as he recalled the day. He was too consumed with the new treaties being made with Myr that he had completely forgotten what the best day of his life was— the day when you were finally and legally his. 

“You know, all my life, everyone had told me I’d be a spinster because what man in their right mind would put up with me… someone who is overly spoiled, attention seeking, and desperately needy,” You began. “It matters not that I had a wall of suitors; they were certain that whoever I had married would return me to my father because they could not indulge me, and how I was raised… then came you.” You breathed out. “I thought I could have proven them wrong— that… that there was actually someone who’d love me despite all of my exigencies… yet here I am, back in my father’s house.” 

Aemond shook his head and reached to cup your cheek, urging you to look upon him. “My heart… please, I—I am that someone… I swear, I promise to you that this shall not occur once more. Please do not doubt me, you are all that I care for. You are my wife, my queen… my heart— I have loved you since we were children, and not once has it wavered. What must I do to prove it to you? Tell me. Tell me what I should do just to prove to you that I am devoted to you and only you?” Aemond pleaded. He had not realized how you must have felt over the past moons. He knew well how you were always gossiped about by the kingdom due to your indulgent ways, but he never realized how their foul words had eaten at you— that he was not there to soothe the viper’s bite. 

“I do not know,” You answered truthfully. Perhaps there was nothing to do. This matter was not something that gifts and gold could resolve. You just wanted Aemond— all of him. Him and his lone gaze, him and his soft touches, him and his undivided attention. Aemond breathed out harshly, shaking his head once more at your words. He was ready to plead once again, but his words were left unuttered as he felt you cup his face and place your lips upon his. 

Aemond quickly recovered from his shock and held you by your waist, pulling you closer to him while your pet had jumped from your lap and disappeared. “Do you truly promise to me that this shall never happen again?” You questioned as you parted for a breath, and your husband fervently nodded. “I promise my heart. And I swear that whatever promise I had broken should be repaired,” He uttered, looking intently upon your eyes, and you could only pray to the gods that what he said was true. You knew that you could never truly leave him, no matter if he would subject you to sadness and his neglect, because all you wanted was him. 

You gave a silent nod and kissed him again, missing the way his thin lips felt against yours and the spice riddled bitter taste he had on his tongue. You breathed out heavily as Aemond began placing kisses upon your jaw, his nimble hands undoing the laces of your bodice, and his tongue teasing your skin. “The next time I shall neglect you and make you feel doubtful, take my sword and carve out my heart— you shall see your name carved upon it and witness that it only beats for you, ñuha prūmia.”  Aemond breathed out as he had finally unlaced your gown, his eye dark as he looked upon you. 

“There will be a next time?” You questioned overly seriously, your brow cocked in question, and Aemond bit his lip and shook his head, kissing your lips shut. “I and the kingdom shall burn first before it should happen again,” He swore, his hands trailing down from your waist to your thighs that parted before him. You yelled unexpectedly at your husband’s swift movements that scooped you up in his arms and carried you to your feathered bed. 

“I adore you,” Aemond whispered before he connected your lips once more, the tension he had harbored for months on end miraculously disappearing as your arms circled around his neck. “You are everything I have ever wanted… all I have ever needed,” Aemond murmured as he placed light kisses upon your chest, indulging himself with your intoxicating scent. “You are mine, my heart… but most importantly, I am completely yours,” Aemond uttered and closed his eye tightly as he heard your ragged breathing and felt how you pulled him upwards once more just to kiss his lips. 

“Prove it, my love… prove to me how you are all mine,” You implored, Aemond feeling how his knees weakened at how you finally addressed him with your endearment. He was your love, and you were his heart— things that go hand in hand; one could never function without the other, just as you and Aemond were. 

You watched as your husband’s eye darkened, and you reached up to remove his eye patch, wanting to see the sapphire gleam against the light of the setting sun. You watched as your king removed his leather doublet and unbuckled his trousers. You bit your lip as the moons of neglect had forced you to seek pleasure by your own hands. You could not even imagine how Aemond had stomached not being intimate with you, as he was so overly fond of mounting you each day, even during the days of your blood moon, he had little care. 

“Gods, I am a foolish man… how could I ever neglect such beauty? I must have grown crazed,” Aemond muttered as you lay before him bare, your legs parted and your cunt on display for him, glistening and calling impatiently and desperately for his undivided attention. You propped yourself on your elbows as your husband only kneeled unmovingly before you, gawking at your naked frame. “Well, are you to do nothing, husband?” You questioned, and as his dark lilac eye turned to you, he leaned down to kiss your lips whilst his fingers went to cup your dripping cunt. 

“Gods, you’re perfect,” Aemond muttered as your cunt clenched around his fingers, his thumb brushing over the sensitive bud that had you moaning and writhing against his hand. “Louder, my heart, I want for the whole of the Crownlands to hear how their king and queen had reconciled,” Aemond encouraged, curving his fingers and placing his attention on the spot he knew would make you see stars. “Is that truly what you wish for, husband?” You questioned, panting as you were nearing your peak. Aemond nodded, trying to capture your lips, but you had a different thought in mind. 

Aemond was puzzled as you suddenly parted from him. He watched your naked form go to your window, opening the glass, and rest your body upon the ledge, your bare bottom and cunt hanging in the air. “I’m waiting,” You called, and Aemond finally understood what you had meant. Aemond quickly stood behind you, letting his hips kiss yours and letting his weeping cock be placed against the supple and ample flesh of your behind. “Are you certain?” Aemond suddenly questioned, knowing just how loud you could be. You turned to look upon him, “I thought you had wished for our subjects to hear how we had reconciled? Let them hear it then,” You answered, and Aemond no longer hesitated as his cock quickly burrowed itself into your cunt. 

You hissed at the sensation, forgetting just how truly well endowed your husband was, and no matter the slick that gathered between your legs, there was still friction that deliciously added to your pleasure. Aemond gathered your hair into his hand, giving him leverage as he unceasly and harshly thrusted into you. “Gods… Aemond— harder, I—“ You said, mind muddled in pleasure as you feel his other hand come to rub circles upon your cunt, your moans echoing through your chambers and into the vast sky. The knight outside of your chambers quickly left his post, blushing like a maiden as he once again had to hear the queen and king grow intimate. 

Aemond looked upon the window, the setting sun, and the sunset sea, your view, but he knew his was infinitely better. He dipped down to place a kiss upon your shoulders and back, your legs quivering as you were nearing your peak. “Ae…Aemond. Gods have I missed your cock,” You moaned into the wind, and Aemond smirked smugly as he knew it was only he who could ever make you feel as such. “You are made for me, my heart. You have it all— my attention, my devotion, my heart— I would build a statue of you in the sept and worship it… just say the word.” Aemond whispered against your ear, his hold on your hair tightening as he too was feeling the familiar coil of release. 

“Do you promise, my love?” You questioned, and Aemond smirked and tilted your head back so he could kiss your lips. Your body arching further as you came undone with your husband’s cock in your cunt and his tongue between your lips. “I swear.” 

[eraenaa]

Need

Aemond Targaryen x Niece Reader

Synopsis: For years, you and Aemond had a rather complicated relationship. But during your brother's trial and stay in the capitol, you both finally confess that you needed each other desperately.

Warnings: Not Proofread, Season 1 Centered, Enemies to Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Miscommunication, Jealousy, Cunnilingus

Word Count: 10,646 (bear with me pls)

A/N: This was in the drafts for moooonths... also there may be a part 2 centered on the events of season 2 (idk don't hold it against me)

120 AC

You were born a bastard, but you inherited most, if not all, of your mother’s features. The court was clueless about your true paternity, but the silver locks that grew from your scalp and your amethyst eyes were enough to cease their wagging tongues. However, it was unfortunate that though you were saved from the serpents’ speculation, your beloved brothers were not. 

You sat by the steps of the tiltyard, watching as your brothers trained with their swords. “Princess, why is it that you’re here?” You hear the Lord Commander ask, his eyes upon his pupils who dueled with straw dummies. “Our lesson with the septa has ended, and Helaena wishes to be alone,” You say quietly, looking upon the knight whose bitterness you felt would always seep through. He gave a curt nod and returned to his post, where he observed your brothers and uncles’ training. 

“That is a new dress,” you hear someone remark, peeling your eyes away from your elder brother who sparred with your eldest uncle. You turned to Aemond, who held his wooden sword in his hand, and his lilac eyes were upon the new dress you fashioned. “It is,” You confirmed. “Did the others not suffice? Extravagance is a sin, niece,” Aemond said and watched as your lips formed into a slight pout. The afternoon sun cast upon your fine Valyrian locks, setting them aglow. “Perhaps you shall tell that to your mother. She had commissioned and gifted this dress for me,” You say, smoothing the fabric of your new gown. 

Not another word was exchanged as Aemond was called upon the lord commander for a duel, and you silently watched. You noted from the side of your eye that your brother’s father appeared, attending to their training, which was neglected by the Queen’s knight. You rested your chin upon your palm as you were left alone as a mere spectator to their training that was quick to go violent. Aemond returned to where he stood earlier, to his place beside you as two knights fought one another. “You best return inside the keep; this is no place for a girl,” He said, but you sat still in your spot, your eyes glued to the scene before you. You frowned as Aemond placed his frame before you, blocking your view. “You’re no fun, uncle,” You complained and reluctantly stood, dusting off your dress before returning inside the keep. 

Aemond smirked as he watched your figure depart, his eyes memorizing the frown on your face as you left and the way your hair swayed as you stomped inside the castle walls. You were quite spoiled, and Aemond greatly frowned about that aspect of you; however, at the same time, he found it amusing— possibly even endearing. 

After his training, Aemond found you in the library. Attending to your afternoon ritual of sitting by the windowsill, a book on your lap, and your eyes would shift between the pages and the setting sun. “What are you reading?” Aemond asked as he approached you. “A book,” You say simply, your eyes upon the window. Aemond rolled his eyes and took his seat by your side. “Obviously,” He said and forcefully took the book from your grasp, making you scowl. “This is in High Valyrian,” Aemond remarked as he turned the pages. “It is.” 

“You understand it?” He asked in bewilderment. “Some,” Aemond’s brows furrowed as he realized your replies were short. You were usually one to ramble on, aggravating and annoying him as you went on and on with your words. “You are… unwell,” Aemond said as he was not entirely certain as to what emotion you felt. You turned to him, his inquisitive eyes assessing you. “No, I am not ill,” You replied with a slight furrow. “Then… you are perhaps… glum?” He asked slowly, cautiously. 

You sighed. “I feel as if my brother does not like me,” You confessed. “Which one?” Aemond asked, daring to sit closer to you. “Jacaerys,” you said and watched as he shrugged. “Hm… that’s fine, he does not like me as well,” Aemond said in an attempt of comfort. “But that is different; you are not his sibling.” You say, and Aemond chewed on his cheek. “Are you so certain that you are?” Aemond watched as further confusion began to plague your face. “What do you mean?” Aemond shrugged. 

“Look at them— and look at you. You look more like our sibling than you do them,” Aemond stated the obvious. “If my mother was not present at your birth, you could easily pass as a Targaryen rather than a Velaryon… or a Strong,” Aemond whispered the last part, but he was quick to regret it as you abruptly stood. “You speak of treason, Aemond,” You warned. Growing sensitive to the matter that had always plagued your brothers, “I speak of the truth.” He simply stated and watched you walk away from him once more. 

Aemond oddly felt guilt settle in his system in the next couple of hours. He watched you from above the gardens as you sat solemnly and picked at the petals of a flower. “There you are, my sweet girl!” Aemond heard below as your mother approached. “Oh, what’s wrong, my love?” Your mother was quick to notice the melancholy in your eyes. “Nothing,” You say, making your voice sound chipper, but your mother gives you a look of doubt. She sat beside you and ran her hand through your hair, which was a replica of hers. “Who’s my father?” You asked, your voice so low that even your mother barely heard the words you had uttered. 

“My sweet, what a question,” She said in shock, and you lowered your eyes. “Your father is Ser Laenor,” She uttered the lie that was second nature. You bit your lip, “Everyone… everyone knows, Mother,” You whispered, tracing the embroidery of your dress. You hear her sigh heavily and gently move your face to look at her. “It matters not who your father is; I am your mother, and that is all that matters,” She whispered and placed a kiss on your temple. You sighed and nodded quietly. “Now, I asked the maids to make your favorite cake; come,” She said and guided you back into the walls of the castle. 

The following morning came, and you stood idly by the side as all of you children were in the dragon pits. You placed your eyes on the ground, the melancholy in you about your brother’s dislike toward you not lessening, and it would seem Aemond’s words had only severed it. Aemond observed you, guilt in his heart growing but he could not account as to why. It was unlike you to be so… silent and somber. His father, the king, would always note that your presence is the reason for the liveliness in the dull keep, his obvious favor bestowed upon you as the only daughter of his favored child. 

“Dracarys, Vermax!” Jacaerys exclaimed in glee as he demonstrated with his dragon. You stood next to your younger brother, Luc, as he snickered with Aegon. “Are you well, sister?” Lucerys asked as he paused his merriment with your uncle. “I’m fine,” You smiled at your younger brother, who was quick to nod and run ahead somewhere in the pits. Aemond watched as you took steps toward the dragon keepers who stood as your teachers. “Can I take my leave now? I’m quite tired,” He heard you ask in perfect High Valyrian. Aemond was brought out of his observation of you when his brother spoke. 

“We have a surprise for you, brother,” Aegon said and guided Aemond closer to the pits. “You are the only one of us who does not have a dragon,” Aegon stated, and Aemond clenched his jaw at the reminder. “I am,” he said and watched as Lucerys disappeared into the pits. “Well, we have found you one,” Aemond felt his heart spike in hope, but it was quick to fall as he saw what Lucerys dragged from the pit. “Presenting… the pink dread!” Aemond could only stare at the pig they adorned with false wings as their laughs rang louder. 

You watched the scene with horror, warily turning to Aemond, whose expressions were repressed. “Why would you do such a thing?” You asked Jacaerys, who still laughed at your younger uncle’s expense. “Do not be such a killjoy,” He rolled his eyes at his sister, and you watched as Aemond stood still as the others started to leave the pits. Though you wanted to return to the keep, you stayed and stood by the side, waiting for Aemond, who still stood still in his spot. You bit your lip as you approached him, “Aemond,” You called, and he turned to you with a glare. “I… I’m sorry,” was all you could say, being the one to offer apologies for your brothers’ cruel jest. 

“Why? You were not a part of this,” He said coldly, walking off, and you nervously followed him. “I know, but my brother should not ha—“ You halted in your tracks, and the words fell from your lips as Aemond harshly turned to you. “You do not apologize for the actions of… of bastards,” He spat, and you were rendered frozen in shock as you did not know how to take his words. Aemond walked off, and he knew the apology you offered was a way to make him feel better, but it had only enraged him because how can you, the perfect picture of Valyria, apologize for the action of a plain bastard of House Strong? 

You were not part of the cruel jape bestowed upon Aemond, but you somehow feel utterly guilty about your brother’s actions. You had noticed that Aemond was not in attendance during supper, adding to your guilt. You turned to your brother and Aegon, none of them plagued by the churning feeling in your gut, and if they were, they hid it well. 

Supper had just ended, and you made your way to the kitchen, pleading for your guard to let you wander the halls as you explained to him that you needed to acquire something. You had your lip between your teeth as you cautiously knocked on Aemond’s chamber door. You watched as he cautiously opened the door, “What are you doing here?” He asked, his tone always cold and dismissive. “I— you did not attend supper and… and I thought you might be hungry, so I brought you cake.” You say quietly, hoping that the sweet treat would cheer him up; it always worked for you. 

“I’m not hungry,” Aemond dismissed your gesture but felt his stomach twist as your hopeful gaze flew to the ground, the small smile on your lips faltering. “But— but I shall eat what you had brought,” He quickly added, and he felt his heart stutter as you raised your amethyst eyes to meet his, your smile growing wider. Aemond took the plate in your hands. Aemond had thought you would leave, but you just stood there, “Is there anything else?” He furrowed his brows. 

You licked your lips, “I truly am sorry about what they did. It was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it… I’ll try to talk to my brot—“ Aemond sighed and shook his head, “I told you, you must not apologize for their actions. You are not the one who had offended me, nor were you a part of it— any apology from you is inconsequential.” Aemond watched as your eyes flew to the floor once more, “Oh,” You said in a small voice. “But thank you, I…” Aemond tried to console the sadness in your eyes at his dismissal. Aemond was never one for his words; all he could do was envelope you into a quick hug before speedily rushing off and leaving you dumbfounded. 

That one small action would be the catalyst for all the proceeds between you and Aemond. Each day, you would find yourselves threading closer to one another. No matter how unnatural it seemed to either of you, you two always sought for each other and became somewhat each other’s companion. 

“You need to roll your ‘r’ more,” You say as you taught your uncle High Valyrian. At first, you wanted to teach your brother what you had learned about the ancient language, seeing he would be king one day, but he only dismissed you, and Aemond found you sulking along the halls at your brother’s indifference. So, he offered that it be him that you teach instead, for he was always interested in the language of his house. “Zaldrīzes,” You repeated slowly so your uncle could repeat the word with the right pronunciation and tenses. You listened as Aemond repeated the word, and you smiled as he did it correctly. “That means dragon, yes?” He questioned, and you nodded. “And why must you know the High Valyrian word for dragon when you have none?” A third voice suddenly questioned, and the smile quickly dropped on your lips as Aegon appeared with your brothers by his side. 

“Mother wants to see you,” Jacaerys then spoke, but your attention was on Aemond, who had lowered his gaze and stewed in quite anger at his brother’s comment. You hesitantly stood and glanced towards Aemond as he would be left in the presence of the other who had done nothing but torment him. 

“What is it, mother?” You questioned as you entered her chambers, interrupting a conversation between her and your supposed father. They turned to you with a wary smile, and you felt nervousness enter your system. “My love, your father and I have been discussing, and we have decided that it would be best if we are to move to our rightful place in Dragonstone.” She said softly as she held your hand. Your brows knit together as you comprehended her words. “We are leaving?” You asked in confirmation, and your mother tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear and nodded. “Yes. We are to be in our ancestral home— wouldn’t that be fun? You always loved the histories, and nothing is more historical than the seat of our house,” She smiled as she sensed your uncertainty and reluctance. 

“But why now? Why must we leave? Can we not stay a few more moons? Why are we to leave so suddenly?” You asked, still confused by the sudden decision. Your mother sighed as she knew this was coming. Unlike them, court life was easy on you; you were favored by the members, even the queen herself, despite her animosity towards your mother and brothers— and Rhaenyra could only be thankful as you were not presented with the same hostility they bestowed upon her. “It is for the best, my love,” She softly said, but you gave no reaction as you did not know how to feel.

“You are leaving.” You jumped in surprise as you heard the voice of Aemond, not realizing that he had entered your chambers, that was being packed away as your departure to Dragonstone was coming by the week’s end. “We are,” you say softly, running your hand through your hair consciously, as he had never seen you with your hair disheveled and out of its braids. “You must be glad my brother would be far away and would stop tormenting you,” You say after a quiet moment, with Aemond gazing upon your chambers as he had never been there before. He only hummed; gladness was not the first emotion he felt when he heard the news of your departing. 

You bit your lip as you fiddled with your hair in nerves as you wanted to ask Aemond a question. “Wo— Would you write to me when we are gone?” You asked, your heart beating loudly in your chest. Aemond was stunned at your question. “What?” He questioned, not certain what the meaning of your question was. “It’s just— Helaena and I promised that we would write to each other, and I just thought that maybe we could write to each other too,” Aemond stood before you, unable to meet your eyes. “Why? Should I write to you then? You will be already trading letters with Helaena.” You swallowed thickly at his question. “Well… because you are my friend.” You say quietly. “I am your uncle.” He corrected and you felt embarrassed as you had taught of him as your friend. “Oh, of course,” you say solemnly, recoiling at your actions.

“Is there anything you need?” you asked, wondering why Aemond had come to your chambers in the first place. “Nothing,” he said and left without another word, confusing you. 

There were no formal goodbyes; you and your family left in the dead of the night with no one but the king wishing you a safe trip. Though in the morning, Helaena did accompany you throughout the whole day, savoring each other’s presence before you left, and you had hoped Aemond would at least say goodbye to you, but he did not do such a thing, hurting your feelings. 

When you arrived in Dragonstone, the first thing you did was write to Helaena, keeping your promise to her. You thought twice about writing to her younger brother, fearing that you would be scorned by his ignorance once more, but you went on anyways and drafted him a letter as well. It had become a habit. Each time you would write to Helaena, you would write to Aemond as well. Writing to him about anything and everything, even including some lessons in High Valyrian. However, naught a single letter of yours was answered. You stopped by the seventh letter as you yourself found it pathetic how you would spend hours writing to him and he would only ignore all you send. 

Just as your family had begun to settle in Dragonstone, you were then called to Driftmark as your supposed aunt had died in childbirth. You were dressed in mourning, and the darkness of the place represented exactly how you felt. Not only because of the death of your aunt but because you had to face Aemond after his ignorance of you as well. You stayed near Jacaerys’ side, his animosity towards you seeming to simmer down as you had left the eyes of the court. “Go console your cousins,” Your mother ordered you and your siblings, nudging you towards Baela and Rhaena, who sat solemnly at the side. Instead of doing as you were told, you followed your brother as he stood by a fire, the both of you surrounded in silence. 

You stared at the fire, watching as the flames danced, but your attention was caught as a figure clothed in green stood before you and your brother. You raised your gaze and locked eyes with Aemond. You stayed silent, staring at him blankly as the corner of his lips raised ever so slightly and quickly. You blinked and turned to your brother, whose expression mirrored yours. You removed yourself from the situation and sat with your cousins, standing out when next to them even if they tried to sell that the salt that ran in their veins ran through yours as well. 

Aemond moved his gaze to you as well, feeling guilty as he had not responded to one of your letters, an odd sensation resting in his insides at your ignorance of him. He wanted to write back, truly he did, but he had nothing to say. He did not know what to share with you, if you would find a matter amusing or not. He had nothing to say, so he said nothing at all. Now he knew the implications of it; you stopped writing to him a fortnight ago, and it was hard for him to admit even to himself that he had missed your letters. He would wait every morning in the ravencote, hoping a scroll would be addressed to him, but none came. When night came, Aemond had half a mind to speak with you, but the roar of the mighty beast had caught his attention, and he forwent his wish to speak with you. 

You looked in dread as Aemond was being stitched by the maesters. Blood covered his face, and your brother drew it. You were asleep when everything had transpired, and you found difficulty as to whose side to believe. Though blood was urging you to believe the side of your brothers, you could not be rid of the sympathy you held for Aemond, and the past would be proof that they were accustomed to ganging up on him. You were torn.

When night faded into day, you found yourself having the wish to visit Aemond, but you were certain he would not want your presence. But still, something in you insisted on seeing him. You sneaked around the unfamiliar halls of your supposed father’s home and waited for the guards to step away so you could see Aemond. When they did, you hastily took the opportunity, sneaking your way into his chambers. He was seated upon a desk, his back towards you and you faked a cough to let your presence known. 

Aemond turned and saw you standing by the door, surprise overcoming him. He quickly turned away and hid his damaged face. “Get out! Leave!” He spat. But you stood frozen in your place. “Aemond, I—“ He clenched his fists, “Are you deaf?! I said leave!” He screamed, and you cringed as you were unaccustomed to being yelled at. “It will do nothing, but I’m sorry for what was done. You did not deserve it,” you said before doing as he told you. Aemond turned to you, but you had left, forcing him to stare where you had stood. Why would you apologize for the actions of your brothers? Why were you always so sympathetic when it came to him? Why did you care about him? 

You drafted another letter when you returned to Dragonstone. You drafted it even though you knew Aemond would not reply. You once again offered your apologies and wished him a speedy recovery even though you knew your words would not recover what was taken from him, but that was all you could offer. You were, however, surprised that a letter came to you a week after you had sent yours. It was from Aemond! Finally, he had written. But you frowned at what he had written. 

Again, you do not apologize for the actions of bastards. You had done nothing; your apologies offer nothing. I have no need for it. What’s done is done. 

Anger overcame you. Why was he like this? So stubborn and difficult! You could not help but write another letter telling him off at what he had sent. 

Aemond felt a smile creep up to his lips. The first smile he had since the dreadful night in Driftmark. He read your lengthy reply; your frustrations were evident in every stroke and letter you wrote. Of course, he expected this. All went along with his plan. He could not bring himself to write to you casually, but he could bring himself to write to you with the purpose of an argument. Aemond quickly went to his writing table and wrote his reply, still amused at the length of the letter you sent and its errors. 

You groaned your frustration as you received your second letter from Aemond. The first line was him mocking you at the lapses made in your letter, and the rest was him rewriting it with the necessary corrections. “What is it, sister?” Lucerys asked as he noticed your frustrations as you reread what Aemond had sent. You locked eyes with Jacaerys, who eyed the letter in your hands curiously, not certain who wrote for you to be agitated as such. “Nothing— It’s no one,” You say nervously, as you were certain that they would disapprove of you having contact with Aemond. So you hurriedly returned to your chambers and hid from them, drafting another letter to be sent to your uncle. 

 It quickly became a custom with you and Aemond writing to each other. Your letters with Helaena had become sparse and occasionally, but you and Aemond wrote to each week. What started to be a written argument then turned to normal letters, telling each other all that had occurred in your lives. Things that neither of you could tell your siblings were instead written down and told to each other. 

You lost count as to how many letters he had sent, gone was the boy who ignored what you would send. He even included a parcel along with his usual letter for your name day— giving you a sapphire hairpin that would nicely match your dresses. You had a smile the whole day because of that, unaccustomed to witnessing such kindness from him, but you were grateful. Sending him a letter of your thanks, which Aemond smiled upon as he noted the gratefulness in each word you wrote. 

A few years would pass with you and Aemond sending each other letters each week, exchanging gifts each name day. Waiting by the ravencote to receive the parchment that each of you looked forward to each week. However, such customs came to an abrupt stop after Aemond had turned six and ten; you never received the usual letter of thanks from him, and he never replied to the next two letters you sent. All contact ceased, and you would not speak to him until the fateful day you and your family returned to the Red Keep.

129 AC

Aemond stared harshly outside the window as you and your kin arrived. He watched the way your silver hair glimmered and swayed as you stood by the gates, carrying a silver babe in your arms as your family frowned at the lack of welcome that waited for them. All knew you would arrive today, but none held no time nor care to welcome you and your kin. Aemond leaned closer to the window, observing you, noticing that a glare would bounce atop your head, and he realized you wore the hairpin he had sent during your ninth name day. 

He saw you raise your gaze, and he quickly removed himself from the window, fearing you would see him even through the distance. He clenched his jaw as he felt the odd sensation of his heart announcing its existence. Not even his rigorous sword training was able to make his heart beat so loudly. Aemond breathed in deeply and tried his best effort to remove you from his mind and instead go upon his day, pretending that you were not just an arm’s length away. 

You wandered about the castle, never straying far from your family as you were somewhat nervous to face Aemond. Subjected to the same emotions you felt when you last saw him in Driftmark. Embarrassment and anger swirled within you as he no longer replied to any of your letters. You hid in your old chambers to make certain that you would not run into him and be forced into a rather awkward situation, but it seemed inevitable as the next day was quick to come, and you would be forced to see him in the great hall as all needed to attend the trial. 

You cowered behind your older brother, using his frame to hide yourself. You stared at the floor as you did not trust yourself to raise your gaze, for your eyes would surely search for Aemond. You have wondered for years what he would look like— will he still be the same boy tormented by his brother? Or will he be this formidable warrior like the few whispers you had heard? Curiosity was consuming you, your eyes burned with wonderment at what Aemond had grown to be, but you forced yourself to stare blankly at the floor. 

Aemond looked around the room in disinterest. He had been trying to catch a glimpse of you, but you cowered behind your brother, the only thing he could see of you was the maroon skirt of your gown. His thoughts were bothering him, and he kept questioning one question. What did you look like now? Were you the same little girl that once ran along the halls of this keep? Did you still hold your mother’s features, or had your true father’s replaced them? Aemond was dying to know. But he was denied an answer as Jacaerys blocked his view, the bronze prince standing between him and you. 

Jacaerys gritted his jaw as he felt the persistent stare of his uncle. His eye kept flying toward your direction throughout the trial, and not even the sudden appearance of the king made his curious gaze waver. Jacaerys glanced upon you, who stood behind him, your gaze firmly planted on the floor as your fingers traced the embroidery of your dress. Your stature somewhat calmed him, for you did not appear to hold the same curious gaze of Aemond. 

When dinner came, you were overcome with nerves once more, the same tormenting emotions that resided inside you at the thought of Aemond never fading. You walked arm in arm with Jacaerys, already weary as to where your seat would be. “Come, sister, you shall sit next to me,” Jacaerys muttered as he already felt the piercing, cold gaze of your uncle. “My dear, you must sit with your betrothed. Come, my love, you shall sit here.” Your mother smiled and pulled you towards one end of the table. You were forced to sit, and you sat rigidly as Aemond was stationed beside you. You still had not looked upon his face, instead distracting yourself with the feast laid before you. 

You were avoiding his gaze, Aemond had realized. Coward. 

You chewed on your lip as you saw the outline of Aemond from your peripheral vision, memorizing it because that was all you could do since you still could not bring yourself to look at him. You made conversation with Helaena while you all together ignored her younger brother, who you once considered your friend until he proved himself not. 

Aemond was itching to speak with you— to confront you about what had happened. You two had a good thing going. You had gotten him used to the custom writing to you and waiting to read what you wrote each week. He found solace in the written word, telling you all he could not share with others, and he would like to believe you did the same. It was an excellent ordeal; why, then, did you stop? Why had you never returned his letters? Was it retribution for what he had done when you were children? Aemond was uncertain and desperately needed to know why you had forsaken him. 

Why did you have to get him used to the contact and ensure that it was only you who held his thoughts and then completely cut him off? Aemond grew more enraged at the reminder, which is why he aimed to ruin the night. He would not have you all complacent and think that this would go on smoothly all the while he was sitting in turmoil. 

You returned to your chambers as your mother had ordered, caught off guard at how violent the night had turned, but a part of you had expected it. You foolishly thought that the hostility and cruelty in childhood had left when all of you matured, but it was only lying in wait, waiting for the first instance you all shall meet again. 

“Sister,” Jacaerys called as you were nearing your chambers. You paused in the hall and waited for him to reach your place. “Does your jaw hurt? Must we fetch the maesters?” You fretted as Jacaerys rarely seeks you out. “I am fine— but I must implore you to stay far from our uncles,” He said bitterly. You blinked, not finding it necessary for him to remind you. “You could be by Helaena, but the moment any of her brothers come to her side, you must remove yourself from the situation.” He added, and you gave a nod. “Very well,” Jacaerys was partly surprised as you readily agreed as he believed your affections for Aemond would hinder you from agreeing. But it would seem those affections were left in childhood, and Jacaerys found great comfort in that.

“Good. Good night, sister,” He said and uncharacteristically placed a kiss on your cheek, momentarily confusing you, but you only smiled and bid your brother good night as well before retiring to your chambers. 

Unbeknownst to either of you, a certain one-eyed prince was lurking in the halls, hidden by an alcove, and listened to the whole conversation. Aemond knew he should not care, that he must convince himself to be indifferent as any reaction that came from him would indicate that he still cared about you, but it was inevitable. His rage was undeniable. The dragon’s blood that ran through his veins forever made him rash and ill-tempered. As you passed through the hall, he could not resist himself and pulled you into the alcove, his hand covering your lips as he was certain you would scream in panic. 

Your body went cold as you were pulled by what you thought was a stranger but as you saw the familiar lilac eye of Aemond, you eased into his hold. When your panic had settled, he slowly removed his hand from your lips, the feel of his touch burning. “What are you— what is it?” You whispered as your bodies were flushed together. 

Aemond was speechless, having no concrete reason to pull you into the secluded niche in the wall. “The gull you have to return here,” You frowned at his words, not entirely certain what conversation or argument he wished to make. “It’s not like I have a choice.” You scowled, the reminder of his abrupt ignorance making your settled panic turn to rage. Heated and enraged stares were exchanged as neither of you had the capacity to speak; too much needed to be said, but none had the courage to say it. 

You breathed in harshly, letting go of his gaze, knowing full well that his eyes were once your point of weakness. His lilac orbs were constantly pulling at your sympathy. “Is that all? Can you let me go now?” You questioned bitterly as his arm was still around your waist, keeping you against his chest. Aemond gritted his jaw, breathing in deeply as well. Smelling your unique scent that had always made his knees weak and made his heart stutter in his chest. “I had always held you in higher regard than your plain brothers— but now I see you for what you truly are. You might be the image of Old Valyria, but we all know what you are— a bastard and nothing more.” 

You stood there dumbfounded and immensely hurt. You stared at the space Aemond once occupied in disbelief that he had said such words. Never once had he called you a bastard— and now that he did, now that you experienced how effortlessly the word rolled off his tongue and stabbed you mercilessly, you finally understood the animosity your brothers held for him. The sympathy and fondness you had always harbored for him in childhood faded and dissolved away— something you never thought could happen. 

“Why— How are you so cruel?” You could not restrain yourself as you screamed the question out into the open hall, following Aemond, who had stomped away. You watched him with your fury-filled eyes as he slowly turned around, gaze as enraged as yours. He scoffed and stepped forward, him purposefully flushing your bodies against one another, and through your anger, you did not have the sensibilities to pull away. “I’m cruel?” He scoffed in ridicule, and you frowned further. 

“Yes! You may be the one who has one eye, but I had always turned blind when it came to your bitter and spiteful behavior, even when we were children! I always believed that there is some lightness in you— a kindness that one must patiently search for, but you are nothing but cold and callous!” You practically spat; each word you uttered twisted Aemond’s heart. He had no words. No words of reply as he felt his already broken heart be mangled by the only girl who he thought could repair it. 

Aemond just stared at you unblinkingly, and you shook your head, lowering your gaze as you could not handle his intense stare. He had managed to snake one of his arms around your waist to keep you further flush against him again, and you tried to pry away his hold, but his other hand grabbed your face to turn to him. Before you could say a word of protest or move away from his hold, his thin, cool lips were against yours. 

Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening. He kissed you— he had the audacity to steal your first kiss! You mustered all the might you had to push him away, both of you breathing heavily again. You watched as Aemond’s jaw ticked, and he stepped forward to reach you once more, but you were quick to deliver a slap to his cheek. Just like earlier, the hit did not even affect him; it just partly moved his face to the side. 

He scoffed and turned to you again before he could even move, your body acted on instinct, and you took his face into your hands and kissed his lips just as he had kissed yours. Aemond took a second to realize what was happening, but when he did, he quickly wrapped his arms around your frame to hold you closer to him. His hands were tangling in your hair that he had always had the urge to run his fingers through, curious to feel if your silver locks felt the same as his. 

Neither of you parted your lips even though you both were running out of air; the two of you only stumbled along the halls until you felt Aemond push you against the curved wall of the alcove once more. “Ae… Aemond,” you sighed and held onto the back of your neck as his lips trailed downward to your neck. Aemond made a small bite on your neck, and you hissed at the sting, but a quiet sigh quickly followed it as you felt his tongue soothe your skin. 

You feel his lips trail back to yours, and a wanton noise leaves your lips. His hand reached yours, and he let it rest atop his leather-clad chest. You felt dizzy— lightheaded; you’ve never kissed anyone before, so you had no point of reference, but the way Aemond’s lips were against yours and how certain he was with his actions, you felt confident to say that it felt good. You feel him lead your hand lower from his chest, lowering to the point that it makes you nervous, but you simply let him. Too preoccupied by how your body was reacting to him. 

You feel his hand cease in its guidance as your touch was by his stomach, but you still continue what he started, trailing your hand lower towards a point where you know there is no turning back. But as you did so, Aemond pulled away. You tried to catch your breath, watching him through hazed eyes, his lips swollen and more pink, his eye holding apprehension and lust. “This never happened,” He suddenly said, and all the pleasure you had felt just a moment before was quick to wash away— as quick as how Aemond stomped off and left you by the alcove. 

Aemond stared into the distance as he broke fast with his mother and sister. He did not find rest even for a second. He was haunted by his actions. The feel of your lips still lingered, the smell of you was still fresh, and your touch had left its imprint on him. 

“Brother?” Helaena called once more, confused as Aemond was always alert, but she had called him three times, and he was still yet to realize. “Aemond,” His mother called, and it was only then that he snapped out of his thoughts. He finally raised his gaze, and before he could turn to his mother, he caught the sight of you walking along the gardens. A beaming smile on your face as your hair swayed with the wind and your arm firmly clasped with a young lord’s. 

Aemond felt his eye twitch, rage quickly bubbling in him as another laugh left your lips, letting the lord guide you through the gardens. How dare you?! How dare you kiss him? How dare you leave your burning touch along his body? How dare you make him feel ablaze with want, then quickly be in the arms of another?

“Aemond,” the queen called more sternly, and Aemond turned his furied gaze to his mother, momentarily startling the queen. “Your sister was asking if you could accompany Jaehaerys and Jaehaera to the pit.” The queen cleared her throat and turned to her side just in time to catch a glimpse of you walking arm in arm with a son of House Celtigar. She did hear of your mother’s wish for you to be betrothed before the end of the year. “I am not their father— shouldn’t Aegon be handling such matters?” He questioned, resisting to plant his gaze upon you once more. 

“He should, but your brother cannot be relied on to do such things... please, Aemond. Your sister rarely asks anything of you.” The queen sighed, and Aemond could only give a nod. 

As he rode with the children to the dragon pit, Aemond was not absolved of the rage he had felt earlier that morning. In truth, it only doubled as the image of you carelessly laughing with the lord had burnt itself in his mind. 

When the wheelhouse came to a halt, Jaehaerys was quick to run off, and Aemond sighed in aggravation as he was rangled into such arrangements when there were surely more pressing matters he could tend to. But he supposed he’d be best off handling the twins’ lessons with their dragons; they are the next generation of Targaryens, after all. 

As Aemond saw the twins’ lessons, they were suddenly ushered off to the side as one of the dragon keepers informed him that a dragon shall land in the pits. Aemond looked upon the heavens and saw the belly of your beast, its scales glimmering at where the light hit it. He gritted his teeth as you were nearing landing, having the urge to pick up the twins and rush out of the pits as he did not wish to be near your presence. 

As your beast landed in the pits, you were quick to spot Aemond, his eye keenly observing his nephew and niece. You pursed your lips, wanting to depart and fly above the skies again just to avoid his company, but you sighed and let go of the reigns of your saddle. A stepstool was placed below you, and you carefully disembarked from the back of your great beast. 

You were prepared to ignore his presence altogether, simply board your wheelhouse and leave him without another spearing glance, but as two tots ran to you, you knew you could not exit without notice. “Hello,” you greeted with a small smile as two children dressed in green looked upon you with their wide purple eyes with curiosity. They made no reply, only stared at you, and you wondered if Aemond would come and fetch his nephews; he made no move. “Are you here for your lessons?” You asked softly, and they simply blinked at you. 

Aemond smirked discreetly as you tried to interact with his nephew and niece. The twins were never one for words. They could speak, but they rarely do. Which often unnerved the court as the children only stared at them. “Where are your dragons?” He heard your question, and Aemond expected for you to be met with silence once more, but surprisingly, Jaehaera pointed off to the side where two small dragons waited for them. The twin’s hatchlings were quick to grow, but they were still small enough to be housed in the keep. However, the queen had no wish to be under the same roof as such beasts, so she had ordered them to be sent and grow into the pits. It was a crime in Aemond’s eye to part a dragon with their rider, but his mother could not understand it. 

“Oh, how adorable!” You gushed and walked towards the small beasts, the two children quickly trailing behind you. He scowled at your words. Dragons are meant to strike fear! Not be called adorable. His Vhagar certainly wasn’t. 

“What’s their names?” You asked, looking towards little Jaehaera, who seemed to quickly warm up to you as she clung to the skirts of your riding leather. “Morghul,” She whispered, and Aemond bit his tongue; your eyes widened in shock at how a little, innocent-looking girl would name their dragon death. She had the influence of her uncle, of course. 

“Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, go back to your lessons.” Aemond finally spoke and walked closer to where you three stood, Jaehaera still clinging to your skirts as her brother looked in between you and his uncle. “Yes, best not to keep your beasts waiting— they’re very temperamental,” You say, reluctantly agreeing with Aemond so you can leave. You tried to usher Jaehaera to the dragon keepers who held their dragons. “What’s your dragon’s name?” She asked, ignoring her uncle’s orders and your urging. You smiled softly, her hands still firmly holding the skirt of riding leathers as she looked upon you with her big, innocent purple eyes. You uttered the name of your dragon, and she looked at you with wonder. 

“Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, your dragons are waiting,” Aemond said impatiently as he realized how taken his niece and nephew were by you. “Go on, little ones.” You urged once more, but the twins only blinked at you. “Come now; you must form a bond with your dragons so one day, you can ride with them,” You say, crutching down to be at eye level with two. You had not expected anything like this to happen, especially not in the presence of Aemond. 

“Will you stay?” Jaehaerys finally spoke of his request. You hesitated, not wanting to be in the presence of the man whose lips were upon you just last night. “But you have your uncle by your side,” You say softly, not certain why the children were so keen on you. You’ve only met them the other day. They only shook their heads, silver hair shining in the afternoon sun as they did. You sighed, glancing towards Aemond, who only watched you steely-eyed. “Very well... but you must listen to every word and do what the dragon keepers say, yes?” You said, and the two nodded fervently, making you smile. 

You stood straight and watched two children run to their respective dragons to finally resume their lessons. “You can leave now,” Aemond then remarked as he stood at arm's length by your side, both of your gazes planted upon the twins. “I told the children that I shall stay, I intend to keep my word,” You replied coldly, and you heard his scoff. 

“A word from a bastard’s tongue could never be trusted,” He muttered in ancient tongue, quickly irritating you. “Might I wonder why you are here... you never had a dragon at their age, what lesson will you even impart to the children?” You asked, aiming to scorn Aemond. Something you never thought you would do. Aemond's eye widened with rage, his head quickly turning upon you who still looked onward. 

“What? It’s true. You do not know what it’s like to have a hatchling; you do not know how to handle and bond with a dragon that was placed in your cradle.” You say, turning your head to the side to see the fury in his eye. You saw his hand twitch, seemingly wanting to harm you, as well as how his jaw ticked, resisting his urges. “What? Do you want to hit me now just as you did my brother? Go on, I’m well sure no one would hinder you.” You provoked, and Aemond felt his scar throb beneath its cover. 

“You dare speak to me in such a way, bastard!” He gritted lowly, and you rolled your eyes. “I have insulted you twice, and that is all you have to say? Bastard? You truly are pathetic, Aemond.” You spat. Aemond dissolved the gap between the two of you, and your bodies flushed once more. “You do not know what I am capable of... and when you come to know it, I’m well sure you would not like it,” He whispered darkly, but you simply laughed in ridicule. “Your threats are empty… you cannot do anything. You are but a hound for your family. You may have the largest dragon, but we both know you are undeserving of it. Now, enough with all of this bother— I have more pressing matters rather than having arguments with you.” 

“Like what? Entertaining lords?” Aemond retorted, and a thought in your mind tried to convince that there was jealousy in his tone. But you quickly pushed away such indulgent thoughts. “In all honesty, yes. I am to marry before the year’s end.” You say, a fib on your lips as you have no set time. You watched as he scoffed. “And do you honestly think any lord would wed a bastard?” He questioned, hoping that fury might be more evident in your eyes and set the amethyst orbs ablaze, but you only smirked at him, a twinkle of amusement in your eyes. 

“You’d be surprised,” You uttered, watching as his icy stare momentarily falter. “Good day, Aemond. This has been most unpleasant, and I think for the sake of both our sanities, let us not have a repeat of this.” You smiled sardonically before departing from where you stood and went to his niece and nephew to say goodbye and finally leave the dragon pit. 

When night came and dinner was served in your mother’s chambers, your irritation in regards to Aemond had not lessened. You had done all in your power to be absolved of the thought of him, but it was all moot, and there was only one solution in your mind. 

“When are we to leave? The trial is over; why must we still stay?” You questioned as there was a silence in the familial dinner you partook in. “Soon, dearest... though I do must admit that I am surprised at your eagerness to leave— I recalled years ago all you wanted was to return here,” Your mother answered, and you simply shook your head. “When is soon, mother?” You questioned further and turned to your older brother, who had a questioning look in your insistence. 

“You act so miserable here, sister, but we are the ones who had to bear the ridicule of court.” He suddenly interjected before your mother could answer your question. The words of Jacaerys placed a stifling air in the chambers, and you bundled the fabric of your dress under the table. “Jacaerys,” Your mother warned. “But it is true. She has been bellyaching with the desire to leave, but we are the ones who had been the center of derision since we had returned.” 

“Enough, Jacaerys.” Your stepfather then interjected as he saw your pursed lips and lowered gaze. “I just do not understand why you must ceaselessly complain about the fact that we are still here when you are obviously adored by the court.” Jacaerys then added. “I asked about our departure twice, brother,” You muttered in defense. “It is still twice more than me and Luc.” 

“Please do not bring me into this,” your younger brother then pleaded as he settled further in his seat, avoiding both of your gazes. You sighed and let go of your tight hold on your skirts. “If you would excuse me, I think I shall retire for the night.” You said quietly as you abruptly stood, your actions and words only bringing forth a scoff from your older brother. 

You did not wait for any further reply as you hastily left your mother’s chambers because you felt tears were starting to well in your eyes because of your brother’s obvious contempt for you. Contempt you could never understand because, in your eyes, you were in the same position. You may have silver hair and light eyes, but you were still a bastard just like him. A bastard, just as Aemond said you were. 

You harshly wiped away your tears as you threaded in the halls, and as you were occupied with brushing away pearl tears, you managed to collide with another. “Watch it, bastard.” The familiar voice of Aemond gritted as you passed him. The prince had expected a reply, but you walked onward, not even sparing him a glance. 

You believed you had left him behind, and he had gone, but as a hand grasped your shoulder and made you halt, you knew that you must now face the ridicule of Aemond as he witnessed you cry. “Leave me alone, Aemond.” You say, trying to sound forceful, but your voice cracked with emotion. 

“Who must answer for this?” He questioned lowly, and through your tears, you frowned. “What?” You asked, trying once more to walk away, but he held onto your arm. “Who made you cry?” He asked more clearly and forcefully. “It’s no one— I’m fine.” You insisted and tried to be free from his grasp as you had no wish for a repeat of what had transpired the previous night to happen once more.

 “No, you are not. You do not cry for no reason— who then made you cry?” Aemond insisted, unable to hinder himself to show care. Even when he was young, he could not stomach it when you were glum and most certainly not when you cried. He had hoped he had outgrown such traits, but here he was, still affected every time you let pearl tears stream down your cheeks. 

You breathed in deeply as you realized he would not leave you alone until you gave him an answer. “I had a disagreement with my brother.” You uttered lowly, and Aemond leaned closer to hear your words properly. “Regarding what?” He pries further, and you feel your melancholy turn to frustration. But still, you answered his query. “He does not seem to think that the opinions of the court regarding our paternity affect me— he thinks I have it all lightly because the gods bestowed me with silver hair.” You said in honesty, but quickly recoiling as you had deduced that Aemond would only side with your brother with that matter. 

“So you mean to tell me your brother had made you cry because… you do not look bastard enough?” Aemond questioned, and you clenched your jaw at his words. “Yes. Now, let go of me. I wish to be alone.” You gritted and forcefully yanked your arm away from his hold.

When the next morning came, you went to the great hall to break your fast, and when you approached a table that your mother sat upon, your eyes widened as your older brother now had new bruises and cuts on his face. “W- what happened?” You asked in shock, and Jacaerys avoided your gaze. “Aemond,” Baela answered simply. “Again? But why?” 

“I think you know why,” Jacaerys muttered and stood up to leave, twisting your heart because no matter what you did or did not do, your brother could never accept you as his sister. There was always this animosity in Jacaerys that, try as you might, would never lessen. You turned to your mother, who sighed, “I think you were right, dearest... we must leave, and we must leave soon.” 

As soon as your mother finished her sentence, you hastily left the hall in search of Aemond to confront him about what he had done. Through unending hallways and rooms, you found him in the library, reading by the fire. “Ah, niece, so glad you can jo—“ You swiftly cut him off by slapping his cheek. A slap that was harsh enough for his head to move to the side but apparently not forceful enough for him to take seriously because he only laughed. “What did you do to Jacaerys?! Why are you so cruel?!”

Aemond laughed without humor, “I’m cruel? You had just slapped me without cause!” You shook your head, “I had a cause. It was revenge for my brother.” You said, and Aemond rolled his eye. “Revenge for a bastard who has no honor as he offended his sister? He is the one to spew such disparaging words, yet you maim me?” 

“I am not a maiden in need of defending! You had no right to—“ You gasped as Aemond pulled you close, the words on your lips disappearing. “I had every right to do as I pleased. If you shall not defend yourself, then who will?” He said lowly, his breath fanning your face, making eyes flutter to his thin, beckoning lips. Aemond mirrored your actions, his eye unable to resist your plush, red lips. 

You swallowed thickly and tried to regain your composure. “I do not need you to defend me. I do not need you.” You insisted, and Aemond shook his head. “You have always needed me.” He gritted out. “Much time had passed… and we are grown now. But no prolonged amount of time could make me forget about the little girl who always trailed me around the castle because she needed solace from her brother.” 

You bit down on your tongue, your body unable to resist the pull of Aemond. “Admit it, ñuha ōños… admit that you need me— then, now, and always.” (My light) “You needed me when we were growing up within the same walls… you needed me even if an ocean had separated us… and now, you still need me even if I am just a hair away from you.” 

You tried to shake your head, but Aemond used a finger against the side of your jaw to prevent you from denying yourself the truth. “You need me… you want me. You always have, and you shall always be in want of me,” Aemond whispered; his lips had still not touched yours, but you could already feel his kiss. “Just as how I have always needed and wanted you as well,” He admitted, and you could not help yourself as you wrapped your arms around his neck and sealed your lips with a kiss. 

Aemond felt his knees weaken as a moan left your lips. Aemond ran his hands through your frame, one hand on your waist to pull you closer and another to cup your heaving tit. You clung to Aemond further as you felt lightheaded by how his tongue battled with yours. You feel your feet moving, but your mind cannot comprehend where Aemond is leading you. You only started to realize that he had led you to sit on the chair he once sat upon. 

Your lips chased and dwindled upon his as he moved to part them. Your eyes glassy, dazed, and intoxicated by Aemond. You watched in anticipation as he knelt before you. His lilac gaze never left yours. You feel his lips against yours once more, but it was quick to leave as he trailed his kisses downwards. To your neck… to your chest… and your eyes widened as you felt him lift the skirts of your dress and settle himself between your legs, his kisses focused on the inside of your thighs. 

“Aemond…” You called, looking frantically at the empty room, still in fear that anyone might walk in. “Do you not want this, ñuha ōños? Isn’t this what you need?” You bit your lip and took in a harsh breath as you felt his angular nose barely brush against your cunny as he focused his kisses on the other side of your inner thighs. Nipping the soft, sensitive flesh. 

You could not even describe how it felt as you finally felt his punishing lips against your cunt. All you could remember was that a strained moan left your lips and the feel of Aemond smirking against your skin. “Does that feel good, ñuha ōños?” He asked, voice muffled against your wetness, his tongue swirling upon the pearl of your cunt. Aemond heard no word leave your lips, only your moans of agreement echoing throughout the silent room. 

He was not entirely certain of how to proceed. He had never tasted a cunt before. Of course, he laid with others… the madame, other whores, or even the loose morale ladies of the court. But not once did he have the want to feel his lips against their cunt— he barely even placed his lips against theirs. He only wanted yours. 

Ever since he was young, he always wondered how it would feel to kiss your lips. To taste you. And as he grew older, when manhood approached… he would spend many nights lying on his bed, his hand below the sheets and palming his length. Thinking of you. Hoping that his hands were yours and praying you should be by his side. As good as he was at hiding his true sentiments about you… he could not do it to himself as he knew all too well that it was always you that he had wanted and needed. 

Aemond groaned against your cunt as you gripped his hair, and your hips bucked as you were nearing your peak. Your brows furrowed, and your back arched when you felt Aemond’s tongue enter you, a gasp leaving your lips as that lone action accompanied by the feel of the bridge of his nose nestling upon your throbbing bud had spurred your release, his name leaving your lips as you came. 

Aemond placed a lasting kiss against your cunt and removed himself under your skirts. He saw as if you were a sprawled mess on the chair. Hair disheveled, lips raw, and face flushed. Aemond smirked at the view, lifting you up and taking a seat, placing you on his lap as you tried to recover from the pleasure Aemond had given. The pleasure that you both desperately needed. 

You feel him nuzzle his face into your neck, and you let out a satisfied sigh as he wraps his arms around your frame. “I must leave soon,” You sighed as Aemond intertwined your fingers. “An ocean nor your brother could not separate us, ñuha ōños…” Aemond muttered, but your brows knit in confusion. 

“Last night, I learned Jacaerys had been taking the letters I sent you and the letters you wished to send to me.” He admitted, and your once relaxed body turned rigid, but Aemond was quick to soothe you back into his arms. “I was bearing ill feelings when you first arrived… I thought you had scorned me. But I finally found out that your brother was the reason why our contact had ceased.” He explained, his fingers brushing through your hair. 

“That shall never happen again, my light. If you must return to Dragonstone, remember that I am just a letter or a flight away, nothing will ever separate us again.” Aemond said lowly, and you closed your eyes to seal your lips and prayed it was true.

[eraenaa]

Impatient and Desperate

Aemond Targaryen x Clingy Lannister Reader

Synopsis: How you and your husband fare at court when both of you were constantly impatient and desperate for one another.

Warnings: Clingy/Spoiled Reader, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Oral Sex (f receiving), Mature, 18+, Semi-Public Relations, Slight Degradation, Aemond being a simp for his wife, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 6,207

Sequel: Neglected Promises

A/N: (1) Based on a request sent by @serenity-ren-bliss, they wanted a reader who "loves being doted on." (2) I may or may not have been faded while I wrote this, so...

Prince Aemond was an overly impatient man. One could never know what would set him off and be the reason for his rage. His impatience knows no bounds. His sudden bouts of rage could come from him no longer being able to tolerate the cruel teases of his older brother, or it could be as simple as a courtier walking too slowly in front of him. Either way, whatever the circumstances may be, you would never want to be in the same room with the prince when his patience wears thin. However, as impatient as he was with everyone around him, that could not be said when you were in his presence. You, his loving wife, were the only person that could never wear out the One-Eyed Prince’s patience, no matter how hard you tried. And believe me, you’ve tried. 

As a daughter of House Lannister, you were doted upon and spoiled by your lord father all your life. Whatever you wanted, it was given to you with haste. May it be new gowns, jewelry, or attention— all were handed to you with a smile. And you would take it gratefully, but a new request would already be leaving your lips. 

That you were well loved was unquestionable. But whatever love and attention given to you never seemed to be enough. Growing up, you always needed constant affection and reassurance that those you loved loved you as well. You were clingy. Plain and simple. As a girl, you would always accompany your lord father wherever he went. Whether it was during meetings with lords, hunting in the woods, or even important business dealings in the capitol, you were always by his side. And your father had naught but a choice to take you for he could not bear his only daughter to be sad and doubtful of his affection. 

You were seven when your father first brought you to Kingslanding. He was there on business and was to meet with his brother, Ser Tyland Lannister. You were not set to join your father. He had already been bribing you with new dresses, toys, and even a pet cat so you would be more open to the idea. However, with just a few pearl tears and a sniffle when your father tried to explain that you were not to come with him, the lord quickly conceded as he could not bear you in such a state. 

Your first day in the Red Keep was also the first time you met Prince Aemond. He was a few years older than you, and when you first laid your eyes on him, what was most notable besides his silver hair and lack of another eye was the deep scowl on his face. You had no intention of approaching him, but your newly given pet cat that was by your side suddenly ran towards the scowling prince. 

To say he was mean during your first encounter would be an understatement. He was the cruelest person you have ever met. This doesn’t really say much since you’ve never really encountered cruelty as all your life you were doted upon, but still, he was harsh and callous. He made you cry that day. You forget what exactly brought you to tears, but all you remember is picking your pet up in your arms and running back to your father to tell him about the mean prince you met in the gardens. 

That was the first time Aemond had made anyone cry and the first time he genuinely felt sympathetic. Throughout your stay, you had avoided the prince, but Aemond had sought you out to undo your first encounter. And through that was how your relationship with Prince Aemond began and bloomed. You two would exchange letters when you were in Casterly Rock, and he would eagerly wait for business to bring your father back to the capitol, knowing that you would, of course, be accompanying him. 

Throughout the years, what both of you believed to be just a friendship bloomed into more. It was during your fourteenth name day when you realized that perhaps there was more than friendship between you two, as he had snuck out of the Red Keep, disregarding his duty, and rode on dragon-back to Lannisport just to reach the feast to celebrate your birth. Needless to say, you were besotted with him and his gesture, not to mention the sapphire pendant he gifted, which made you completely enthralled and saw him in a new, love-struck gaze. 

Aemond had never thought he could find patience as great as the patience he bestowed upon you. In truth, if he met another person alike yourself— spoiled, clingy, and in want of constant affection and attention, he would have struck that person down. But with you… he could not even bear to complain in his head because no one would be in that want of his attention and affection. It was only you, and you were the only one for him. 

He patiently waited and courted you for three years before he finally gained your father’s approval. He was reluctant to give your hand away to anyone less deserving. You, his daughter, had many extingencies, and he feared that the men that vied for your hand could never measure up in the way you brought up, doted upon, and spoiled out of your wits. He could not stomach the thought that your husband would not be able to do the same. 

But Prince Aemond proved himself tenfold. He would often send you gifts that were certainly not cheap and would have cost the crown a pretty penny, and the prince would venture to Casterly Rock at a moment’s notice just because you called for him. You often did that, always wanting Prince Aemond to be in your presence, and he never grew tired of journeying endlessly just to see you and make you happy. Your father was, of course, impressed, and in time, as he realized this treatment of the prince was not just for show or to gain further your favor, he approved of the marriage. 

Your two were married in the Red Keep with haste— just as soon as the grand wedding you had always dreamed of was delivered. It was two moons of preparations, and as always, Aemond was growing impatient. “Must it truly be that grand?” He asked as he sat with you in the gardens, your hand in between both of his and your pet cat seated on your lap. “Yes. Father had already paid for all of the decorations and the feast! It’ll be a shame to waste it,” You say, your other hand twiddling with the flower your betrothed picked for you just moments before. 

“But—“ Aemond paused and pursed his lips as the incessant noise of children playing and running along the gardens were proving to be a great nuisance to him. You watched as your betrothed’s soft gaze that was only reserved for you turned harsh as he turned to the group of children and did not hesitate to chastise them. You watched in concern as they rushed out of the gardens, running away from the prince, and you would wager that a tear or two were shed from the innocent, wide eyes of the children. 

“Aemond,” You called, feeling a tad guilty as the childish, glee-filled giggles ceased. “They were a nuisance; I can barely hear you, my heart.” He muttered and took a strand of your hair in between his fingers to twirl and distract him. “But they are children— their noise is understandable… what are you to do if it were our children?” You question and glance behind you as you hear footsteps. Some courtiers were venturing towards the gardens to have a breath of fresh air, but as they saw the prince and his steely gaze, they quickly turned around and let the two of you be. 

“Believe me, my heart, our children would not be as insufferable as them.” Aemond scoffed, and you shook your head. “My love, you’re scaring them.” You sighed, but a smirk came to the prince’s lips. “Good.” He muttered and leaned forward to plant a kiss on your lips, taking advantage of the absence of passersby to have a taste of your lips. 

“Not here, my love… someone could see us,” You say consciously, a pretty blush coming to your cheeks and your eyes wide in scandal, but that only served your betrothed to be further amused. He let out a breath, his hand reaching for your cheek to feel the softness and warmness of your skin. “Gods, what have I done to deserve such a beautiful betrothed,” Aemond complimented, biting back a smirk as he knew all too well how to make you yield. Just an ounce more of his attention and perhaps a compliment or two, and you’ll be putty in his hands. Having you unable to deny any requests that came from Aemond. 

He watched you further reddened at his words, and Aemond took advantage of the moment and sealed your lips with a kiss, one that you did not deny him off as your heart and mind were muddled by the words he uttered. 

In truth, it should concern him how easy you were to yield to words and mere attention. It took him years to come to terms with the fact that there might be some bastard out there who was more determined than he was and would steal you away from him, and you would leave Aemond heartbroken. Jealousy is a lesser and pitiful emotion, but he could not help but feel as such as men were determined to shower you with affection and attention the minute Aemond was not by your side. He knew that your father believed that the reason he would often venture to Catserly Rock was because you called for him. That was true, but another agenda was to scare off the other men that always seem to flock and line up before you. 

Luckily, he slowly started to realize that even if you were quick to yield to words and attention, you only did it for him. The moment he confessed his love and devotion to you, you no longer entertained your wall of suitors. No spare glance was given, any gift bestowed was returned, and all your attention was placed on Aemond, just as he had preferred it. 

When the day of your wedding came, Aemond was restless in excitement. Finally, after waiting for years to have you, when the sun set that day, you would be forever bound to him by the eyes and laws of gods and men. 

Your excitement, on the other hand, was being dampened by your father, who had been questioning you throughout the whole day. “Are you truly certain, my darling? I… Disregard the feast and the preparations made. If you have any reservations, you must tell me immediately. I can handle any contempt if—“ You sighed heavily, a smile gracing your face as you stepped closer to your father, who was responsible for how you were. He was the one to spoil and indulge you ever since you were born, and you understood that he only wished to make certain that you will not be married off to a man who would have no plans to continue that lavishness and customs you were raised in.

“Father, I am certain. I love him. And I had hoped that throughout the years, he has proven himself worthy.” You say softly, taking hold of your father’s hand. Lord Lannister sighed. Of course, the prince had proven himself worthy. It was only just that the lord had now come to realize that you will no longer be under his care. He had trouble grasping the concept that you would no longer reside in Casterly Rock but instead live in Kingslanding and bear the name Targaryen. 

“Father, as you know, my dear husband-to-be is quite impatient and sometimes irrational… but Aemond waited for me. He courted me for three years just because you would not let us marry any sooner. I do not hold that against you, father. In truth, I greatly appreciate it because it made me see that he truly does love me. And for that, I am certain that he is the one I wish to marry.” You said softly, trying hard to convince your father of this union. They often say that the day of a wedding could cause doubts and cold feet; you just expected it to come from you or Aemond, not your father. 

“Very well. But you must tell me or your uncle immediately the moment the prince treats you any less than what you deserve.” He said, and you nodded with a beaming smile, linking your arms as the ceremonies were to take place and your father was to walk you down the aisle. 

“You look enchanting, my heart.” Aemond lowly whispered as you sat next to him at the feast to celebrate your union. “Thank you, husband,” You say with a wide smile, watching as Aemond’s lilac eye grow darker as you called him by his new title. “Say that again,” He said darkly, the pressing need he had for you only growing, and he feared he could truly no longer restrain himself. 

He had desired to have all of you for years. To taste and feel every inch of you, but he had hindered himself. Though both of you knew that in the end, you two would be husband and wife, and the wedding was only a formality, Aemond still placed control upon himself from claiming every part of you. Though you, his little wife, was a flirt. Who often indulges him with teases and suggestive notions, you were still a lady who had guarded her virtue until her marriage. There was nothing shared but chaste and secret kisses between you two, and neither of you could wait any longer to discover the pleasures that marriage life had to offer. 

“Say what again, husband?” You teased and smirked, but it was quickly wiped off as your husband quickly stood and whisked you out of the hall for the bedding ceremony to begin. A ceremony that rang through the halls as your cries of pleasure could be heard from the highest tower of the keep and into the lowlies of dungeons. Safe to say that no one debated your union afterwords for a dragon had found a lion to be its life long companion.

“Where are you going?” You mewled as you felt your husband release his hold on you and leave your warm, marital bed. The two of you had been married for more than two years now, but you still acted as if your ceremonies were made just yesterday. You were always eager to be by your husband’s side. 

“I have a meeting with the small council, my heart. Go back to sleep… I shall return again when you wake so we can break our fast together.” Aemond murmured, sitting by the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through your hair as an effort to lull you back to sleep because he could not grow distracted by your insistence of him staying because he knew all too well that he would yield at your request. 

“But that is not until first light… the sun has not even replaced the moon. Come now, my love, do not leave your wife.” You yawned as you tugged at your husband’s arm, missing the feeling of his frame against yours. 

“I still have to train,” Aemond reasoned, trying not to cave in even though your voice and insistence pulled him in. “You could train later… and I could watch and cheer you on. Please, my love, come back to bed.” You say, further peeling your eyes open to plead with your husband. You knew he would give in. He still hadn’t placed his eye-patch, and that often signified that he was not yet ready to start his day. There was still room for you to convince him not to leave the warmth and comfort of your marital bed and your arms. 

“Aemond, come now, my love. You would not want to upset your beloved wife so early in the morning, do you?” You asked, a sly threat on your lips. Though you were quite clingy and dependent on your husband, there were times that you prospered when he was not in your presence. It had only happened thrice where you and Aemond grew cross with one another, and Aemond, a man who never apologizes, who never surrenders, would always be the first to yield and amend things even if your disagreement was not his fault. An excellent fleet of his patience. 

He could not bear it when you were cross with him. He could not stomach to see you be out of his reach. He always wondered how you could be so indifferent and avoidant during arguments when usually you were stuck permanently by his side. It was as if you were not yourself. And Aemond could not bear it to see you place your attention on other people whilst ignoring him. Somehow, you had turned his aloof and stoic demeanor to one that mirrored your needy and dependent self. 

Aemond sighed and cupped your cheek. “Very well, but soon as the first cock crows, I must leave.” He said and waited for your agreement, but you were reluctant to give it. “Why can't you just skip today’s meeting? You are overworking yourself— you have barely any time for yourself— let alone me.” You pouted, and Aemond let out an amused breath and placed a chaste kiss on your pouted lips. “I am their king, my light. I must be there to oversee the happenings in the kingdom.” Aemond said in amusement. 

Aye, Aemond was now king, and his way to the throne was paved by bloodshed and war. Just a few moons after your marriage, King Viserys was taken by his multitude of maladies, and a war for the Iron Throne broke out. Those were the darkest of days, and neither you nor Aemond wished to recall them anymore because that was the most trying time of your marriage. 

You nearly went crazed when you woke up one day to a cold, empty bed and a pathetic letter from your husband saying that he had to fight in the Riverlands. Aemond knew it was cowardly to leave and sneak out in the dead of night instead of explaining to you the magnitude and urgency of the situation. But he could not do it because he knew you would put up a fight and insist that he bring you along. Aemond could not make any such risks. 

You had only gone one day without your husband by your side before you too sneaked out of the castle with your guards who you had generously bribed and rode to Harrenhal. To say that Aemond was furious was an understatement. He, however, could not help but feel touched and endeared as you had once again proven to him how desperate you were to be by his side. And ever since then, the longest time apart between you and your husband ever since marriage was just a mere three days. You were still bitter about that fact, and Aemond could only happily try and stir your mind away from that unfortunate occurrence. 

“Do you love me?” You suddenly questioned as Aemond was still only sitting on the edge of your bed instead of lying down next to you with his arms wrapped tightly around your frame. “My heart, what a question. I love you more than anything in this world. You were the reason I came to understand what love meant.” Aemond answered, leaning closer to you as he tried to smooth away the furrow between your brows. 

“Very well then. If you love me, why are you so insistent on leaving our bed and my presence?” You asked, and Aemond paused for a moment before a smile broke on his lips at your expecting, frowning face. “Oh, my heart.” Was all Aemond could say before conceding and laying his head next to yours. You were quick to invade his space, practically sprawling yourself atop his frame and making him wrap his arms around you. “You’re quite needy, you know that, yes?” Aemond questioned as he once again ran his fingers through your hair. You were practically purring as he continued to do such actions. “I know. But I as well know that that is what made you love me.” You smiled slyly and burrowed your head on his chest to smell him further because his scent always managed to bring you calm. 

Aemond sighed in marital bliss and placed a lingering kiss atop your head as you began to slowly drift into slumber in his arms. He turned to the balcony of your chambers as dawn was approaching, and he would have to leave you to oversee his duties. He savored each moment that he had you in his arms because he knew it would be long, torterous hours before he’d be in your presence again. 

When the first cock crowed, Aemond let out a grevious sigh as he tried to stir you to your side of the bed but you, of course, resisted. “No.” You muttered in your deep sleep. “Please, my heart. Must we do this each and every morning?” Aemond questioned, exercising his patience with you. “That is precisely the point. We do this every morning, and you leave me every morning. Why can it not be my turn? Why can’t you just stay?” You asked and waited for your husband’s answer, but he only peppered kisses on your face, an effort to distract you. It did.

“Go back to sleep, and I promise that when you wake up, we shall break our fast together,” Aemond whispered and quickly kissed your lips to muddle your mind, and all you could do was nod. Aemond placed a kiss on your lips again, a kiss that further made you lightheaded by with how his tongue would tease yours and how your husband’s hand would linger ever so lightly on your bosom. 

You barely had time to process it before Aemond pulled away and quickly dressed while you were still intoxicated by your kiss so he could slip out of your chambers without any more qualms leaving your plush lips. When you hear the door shut lightly, your trance dissolves, and you huff in frustration before curling up in your bed once more and waiting for your husband to return. 

Aemond hurried through the halls of the castle to reach you in the garden before your patience wears thin. He had dismissed the small council for the morning and decided that they shall meet once again that afternoon when you were usually distracted by court. “You’re late. The food and tea had grown cold.” You said as you feel your husband's presence. 

Aemond sighed heavily and moved to kiss you, but you moved away in annoyance. “You should have eaten earlier, my heart,” Aemond said and sat across from you. He hurriedly placed items of various colorful dishes on your plate, but you could only glower at your husband. He had made you wait a whole half hour before joining you in the gardens!

“I have no appetite.” You gritted, and Aemond pursed his lips as he made your tea to your liking, the liquid now tepid and would not be appealing to consume. “Apoligies, my heart. It is just the small council—“ You rolled your eyes as whatever reason he offered from one ear and out the other. Aemond narrowed his eye as he watched you roll your eyes at him. He must admit, now he was growing annoyed as well. 

“You’re acting quite spoiled. I have already apologized; it was beyond my control.” Aemond muttered under his breath as a rare occurrence of his patience of you wore thin. However, Aemond quickly regretted his words as he saw your eye twitch in annoyance, and you quickly stood. “Let us go, Ser Adam.” You say coldly, now greatly frustrated at your husband because not only did he neglect you that morning, he had also offended you.

Aemond called for you as he watched your departing form with your knight. He sighed heavily and shook his head as he saw you walk closer to your knight as the both of you disappeared from the gardens, a pang of jealousy coursing through him. 

The moment Aemond was made king, he assigned to you the most capable and skilled knight in the kingdom. He, unfortunately, was also the most comely knight at their disposal, making unfavorable emotions arise in Aemond. It was bad enough that the knight was constantly by your side, assisting you throughout the day, and his job being quite literally placing all his attention towards you— and for him to be comely and agreeable? That was simply adding insult to injury. It was safe to say that your closeness with your knight was the biggest threat Aemond could think of. Even greater than the actual threats that come with him having the conqueror’s crown upon his brow. 

Because of the unfortunate occurrences during the morning, Aemond was distracted by the thought of you the entire day. Aemond had only begun the second session of the small council before he abruptly ended it after just two measly matters. He was wrapped in jealousy, uncertainty, and guilt, as he could not even bear for you to be out of sorts for just a few moments. 

He walked through the halls of the keep once more, knowing at this hour you would be with the majority of the court to watch the jesters perform. He saw you in the great hall gathered with your ladies, made and gleefully laughing at the performance. Aemond stood by the door for a moment, admiring the way your eyes would crinkle and how a smile beamed on your lips. However, as he saw you leaning closer to your knight who stood by your side and motioned for him to lower so you could whisper something in his ear, Aemond was quick to grow enraged, especially as a smirk found its way to your knight’s lips. 

Aemond quickly made his way to his proper place, which was by your side. The courtiers were surprised to see the presence of their dutiful king but still gave him respect. You sighed as the entertainment you watched ceased, and the court jesters bowed to their king. You did not even give your husband a sparing glance as you were still quite hurt at what he had called you earlier. 

Aemond took his seat next to you as the performance began once more. He could feel you ever so slyly move away, and that frustrated him further. “Let go of me.” You said quietly as your husband had enough of your antics and simply just moved you to make him sit on his lap. He was quite swift that you had no time to react or possibly forsee his actions. “But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? Us in each other’s company. I am simply giving you what you wish for— like always.” Aemond said, without a care with how the court were no longer watching the performance but rather eyed their king and queen. “We are before other people.” You gritted as you once again stirred on his lap, mortified as you were never one for public displays of affection, which Aemond found curious because when behind closed doors, not a whole army could pry you off him. 

“I do not care.” He whispered in your ear, and you placed a tight smile on your lips as you realized that the court was starting to take notice of your reluctance to be in your husband’s presence. Heaven forbid they start to whisper about your marriage. You huffed and had naught a choice but to rest on your husband’s lap until the performance ended. 

“You smell quite lovely, little wife… is that the perfume I gifted you on your seventeenth name day?” Aemond murmured against your skin, his nose nuzzled in your neck as you tried your best efforts to ignore him. Aemond smirked and placed light kisses on your neck as he knew that just the right touch or the correct compliment would have you melting in his hands. 

You stayed silent, trying to remember the offense your husband had just committed moments earlier. However, it was growing harder to remind yourself as his kisses on your skin burned you with desire and his hold on your waist was inching higher towards your bossom, your peaks already hardening with just the thought of his cold, calloused hands growing near. 

“You are aware that it is treason to ignore your king, my heart,” Aemond whispered and nipped the lobe of your neck, the court’s gaze no longer upon you two as just one glare from their king had made them quickly focus all their attention on the jesters and leave you two be. 

“How can I be ignoring the king when I am quite literally on his lap?” You gritted and once again struggled to get out of his hold. You, however, froze a deep, silent groan left Aemond’s lips, a sound that was for your ears only. “Why had you ceased? You were burrowing into me so perfectly, my heart.” Your cheeks bloomed with color as you felt his desire poking against your bum. 

“Have you no restraint, husband?” You asked, half in mortification and half with desire. “None when it comes to you, my heart. I would think you would have known that by now.” Aemond smriked as he saw how gooseflesh rose to your skin as his breath fanned your neck. “Aemond,” You gritted, taking a firm hold on his hand that was wrapped around your waist. 

Your breathing starts to heave, and your heart starts stuttering. “Just say the word, dear wife. And I shall whisk you off to our chambers. Or perhaps… make them all disappear so I could hear your cries of pleasure echo around these great halls.” 

“Say what you wish for, my heart and I shall always give it to you,” Aemond swore, and at his words, your eyes practically rolled back as just his voice was able to place damp between your thighs. “Make them go away,” You whispered, and Aemond smirked as he quickly barked the orders for everyone to leave you two and no one should enter the halls until he says otherwise.

When the doors shut, you wasted no time in turning around to straddle your husband and smash both of your lips together. You ground your hips against his in a futile attempt to find friction, but whatever you feel through both of your clothed bodies is not enough. “This does not mean you are forgiven,” You moaned as Aemond sucked on teh sensitive part of your neck as his fingers moved to undo the ribbons of your bodice. 

“Whatever you say, my heart,” Aemond panted and quickly sought your lips as he could not have enough of the taste of you. “Oh gods— take it off already!” You said in frustration as Aemond fiddled with your gown, not fully taking it off, but you were already so desperate to feel his touch upon your skin. “So impatient you are, my heart,” Aemond hummed in tea, knowing full well that his own impatience had rubbed off on you, just as how your clingyness had rubbed off on him. 

You did not respond but only smashed your lips together once more and successfully removed his leather dublet. Your hands caressed his smooth, chiseled chest, your touch teasingly going lower, making your husband growl against your lips and him playfully nipping your lower lip. 

You were finally rid of your dress as Aemond made you stand just for you to take his place on his seat. You sat comfortably as Aemond stood before you, taking off his trousers. Your finger went to your lips as you bit your nails when a wicked thought of spreading your legs crossed your mind, and you quickly decided to do it. Aemond breathed heavily as you displayed for him your pretty cunny. Glistening and calling for his sole, undivided attention. 

“What do you want, my wife? Word it out already so I may give it to you,” Aemond said, on the verge of begging for you to let him taste your cunt. “I want you to kneel.” You whispered. “Kneel before your queen and feast on her cunt like a man starve and until there are tears streaming down her face.” You stated, settling further in your seat as a new wave of desire overtook you when you saw the way your husband’s lilac eye darkened. 

Aemond was quick to oblige your order and kneeled before you and burrowed his face into your cunt. He was lapping at your folds, the vulgar noises echoing into teh room and your moans only accompanied them as he sucked so heavenly at the pearl of your cunt.

“Gods— you do that so well, Aemond.” You moaned, gripping at his hair to feel more of him. Your eyes rolled back and a wonton sound left your lips as his tongue darted in and out of your whole and teh bridge of his nose burrowed at your nubbin.

Aemond smirked at the sound of your moans and the feel of your thighs wrapped around him. You were quick to come undone, and your husband could only greedily lick your essence, wasting not a drop of you. “Still as sweet as ever, my heart.” He murmered as his lips retruend to your skin and trailed upwards your body to take one of your heaving tits into the hot cavern of his mouth, toungue teasing the taut bud until teeth placed a quick nibble on the sensitive skin. 

Aemond took your still dazed body into his arms as he once again switched places and made you return to straddle him. Even through your haze, you had no trouble in sinking down his cock that slipped easily between your folds.

Aemond let out a deep, sensual humm of approval as he felt your walls clench around him and the tip of his cock made contact with the spot in your cunt that made you see stars as well as make you a dazed, moaning, cock drunk mess. 

“Gods look at you— I might have married a whore by how well you bounce on my cock.” Aemond gritted as he placed his hand in between you two so his fingers could pay attention to your cunt’s pearl. 

You could only moan a response, focusing on chasing your next high even if you had not truly recovered from the previous one. “Ae… Aemond—“ You called, panting, and your husband already knew what you meant to say. He quickly dipped his head to place a lasting nip on your tit before switching your positions for a third time as you could never really stay on top for long. It was too tiring and, quite frankly, distracting as you tried to search for your release. 

Luckily, your husband had no problem in doing most of the laborous work whilst you just layed before him and watched through lust fille eyes as he pounded into you so hard that it made your tits bounce so delictably for him. 

Aemond thrusted and thrusted upon your cunny, watching as how you gripped him so well. He caught the way as your hands found home on your breasts as you palmed the mounds to find further pleasure and to stable yourself as the orgasm you were chasing was quickly arriving, ready to wash over you and turn you into a blushing, mess of a whore for your husband; just as he often likes to remind you. 

“Aw, does my little wife wish to come? Is that you want, my heart?” Aemond taunted as he himself was close to his release, and you desperately nodded before him, unable to form words as you were completely overwhelmed. “Words, sweetheart, words. Just say it, and it shall be yours.”

You moaned and tried your best to take hold of your mind and control your tongue. “Yes! I— I want you to make me come— husband— please,” You all but yelled and with just a deep, stroke of his cock, you came undone with a loud moan that all the eavsdropper outside the hall heard. 

They could only blush and turn to the ground as it had been a reoccurring occurrence that their king and queen would be spontaneously get caught in the midst of passion anywhere, everywhere, and anytime, everytime in the walls of the Red Keep. But who could blame either of you, for everyone in the kingdom could see plainly that their queen and king were both quite impatient and desperate for one another. 

[eraenaa]

Chosen Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader

Synopsis: Whore or more? 

Warnings: Dub-Con, Harsher Aemond, Mature, Possessiveness, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, ¿Breeding Kink?, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 4,451

Prequels: Virginal Whore, Prince's Whore

“Will you please stop looking at my breasts?” You requested lowly as you had felt the lone gaze of Prince Aemond on your chest for the past few minutes. You two had been seated across each other in the seating room of his chambers. It was nearing both of your time of retirement, but you two had been preoccupied with the scrolls in your hands. His scrolls were filled with the progress of war and how many men they had left, and yours were filled with orders of the castle and what else was needed by the workers. 

Though your entanglement with the prince began with you as his whore, it then progressed with you being an informal lady of the castle you two resided in the midst of war. You had gone from warming his bed, waiting for him at night when he sought release to the one who oversaw the goings-on in Harrenhall. Your duties were the same as your Lady mother's, tending to the keep and its staff, but your title was anything but. You were still the prince’s whore. Tasked to share his bed and be the reason for his pleasure, no matter if the other’s called you ‘lady,’ you believed you were too low and ruined for such a title. 

“Have they grown?” The prince questioned as he discarded the letter he was reading. You frowned and lowered your gaze to your chest, which was covered in your shift. You turned to the prince and saw him already making his way to you, taking the empty space on the settee you sat upon. You took in a sharp breath as both of his hands unceremoniously took hold of both of your tits, assesing them. “They feel the same…” He muttered, and you could not help but hear a tone of disapproval. “Why should they change?” You questioned and grew conscious. 

You locked eyes with the man who had brought you from the whore house and took you. Moons had passed since he had brought you to the castle in ruins, and it had been moons since you had given up on escaping him. Because whatever you did, you could not be freed of the shackles the prince had placed upon you. Besides, you had nowhere to go. Your father’s home was far from the Riverlands, and even if it were close, the prince had made the letter which stated you rebuked your house’s stance in the war, and you were certain your presence would no longer be welcomed. 

You did not like to focus on the past and what had happened. It only placed a painful throb in your chest and tears in your eyes. Instead, you only tried to focus on the day that is to come— hoping that one day, all of this pain and trial would end. 

“Nothing… I— I thought something had changed,” The prince muttered and slowly removed his hands from your tits. Leaving his mark as your nipples had pebbled and strained through the fabric of what you had worn. You pursed your lips and gave a small no d, not certain what to say. 

“I… uh— the lords had been proposing a feast,” You suddenly say to the prince, trying to bring the subject away from your tits. “What for?” Aemond questioned as he moved his fingers to tuck in a stray lock of your hair. The fire light had illuminated your face so warmly and ethereally that he could not help but stare upon you at the moment instead of returning to his various scrolls. “Well, they wish to celebrate your victory in the god’s eye… they said it shall be good for morale.” You uttered, imparting the wishes of other lords. 

“A feast?” The prince questioned, and you nodded. You hear him hum and use his fingers to caress your cheek. “Do you wish for a feast?” He questioned, his fingers tangling your hair, and he took in a lock and brought it to his nose to smell the scent of you further. “It matters not what I wish for,” You say and fiddled with the scroll in your hands. You watch as the prince raises his brow. “Yes or no, my lady. I shall let you decide.” The prince stated, and once again brought his touch to your skin. 

“I cannot dictate such a thing… it is your approval or denial they seek, not mine.” You said. You watched as the prince’s face threaded closer, his gaze on your lips. “I know. But it is your opinion I seek, my lady.” Aemond stated as he began to place light feathered kisses upon your cheek and neck. You let out a breath, cursing yourself as desire was starting to bloom within even after all the times the prince had his way with you. 

“I… I shall be fine with either, my prince.” You say, out of breath. His lips began to stray closer to yours, but he only placed his kisses on the side of your lips. A hum once again left his lips. “That is still not a definite decision, my lady. Yes or no… the decision is up to you.” Aemond stated and further more placed small kisses on your skin and let his hands roam your frame once more. He did not miss the wya you shuddered at his touch nor the gooseflesh that grew on your skin. 

“The lords might take offence if they are denied.” You stated, “Who cares? If they shall give your trouble, you only to say, my lady, and I’ll gift you with their heads.” You took a sharp breath as the prince whispered in your ear and playfully nipped the lobe. 

“I suppose it… It shall boost morale. The men seemed to be overtried.” You reasoned, feeling a bit of guilt as you had grown concerned for the opposition, but you thought that even if your views did not fully align, they were still men. They still feel. They were still human. And you could not help but feel pity as you see them struggling day to day. “So, a feast then?” The prince asked as he placed another mark on your neck, the one he placed last night still hadn’t faded and thought it needed a companion. To let everyone know you were his. 

“I… I do not know. Could you please just the one to decide?” You asked, the prince’s hands once again on your tits and you pressed your legs togeher to surpress the desire that pooled between them. “No.” The prince said plainly, a smirk on his lips as he saw the blush on your cheeks and the glass in your eyes that often indicated to him that you were filled with desire. 

“Decide, my lady. Yes or no?” Aemond pressed and lowered the sleeve of your shift to expose more of your soft skin. The prince watched as you bit your li through darkened eyes. “Yes or no. My lady? Decide.” He said, growing impatient as he wished to be absolved of the matter that plagued you so he could finally bed you. “Fine. Very well. They shall have their feast.” You connected, unable to bear the wanting bubbling inside you. It was shameful but else is to be expected when you were his whore?

“Good. But you shall not plan it alone. They had exhausted and worked you enough… do not try to deny it. I had seen it plainly.” The prince stated, and before you could protest, he placed his lips upon yours, and what you had wanted to say died on your tongue, and it’s grave the prince’s tongue danced with want. 

You let out a shaky breath as his hand moved from holding your waist down to the hem of your shift and hiked up the skirt. “Always so ready and eager for me, my lady…” The prince hummed as his fingers traced your cunt. You whimpered as you felt him add pressure as his fingertip came into contact with your nubbin, swollen and calling for his attention. 

You could not help but let out a moan, your head tilting back ever so lightly, but the prince was quick to dip forward and kiss your lips, unable to let space grow between the two of you. “You take my finger so well, my lady… I could never understand no matter how many nights I havehad you, your cunt is still so fucking tight.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling in your core as he curled his fingers inside you, seeking out that spot that made your legs tremble and made you moan out his name so sweetly. His lips never strayed far, dragging along your jaw, nipping at your throat as he reveled in your whimpers.

Aemond could no longer restrain himself. You cried out in disappointment as he stole his fingers away and took the digits between his lips to taste you, just as he did every single night. You watched through hazy, lust-filled eyes as the prince took you in his arms and carried you to the bed. His movements were fast, desperate as he took off his clothing and positioned himself between your legs. He had a harsh hold on your thighs as he assesed you dripping cunt. 

You took a sharp intake of breath as you feel him run the tip of his cock along your weeping slit, teasing you. “What do you want, my lady? Just say it, and it shall be yours.” Aemond smirked and watched as you once again struggled to admit what you wanted— what you needed. “Come now, just conceed— just as you had the night before… and before… and before.” Aemond taunted and watched as your brows furrow deeply as the tip of his cock continued to brush agaisnt the pearl of your cunt. 

You let out a hopeless moan. “You— gods, I want you!” You cried in wanting and shame. And in your cries, the prince felt a surge of further pleasure. "You clench around me so sweetly, my lady,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction, his lips hovering just above yours. "Like you never want me to leave.” He smirked as a moan left your lips, and he took that as your agreement. “Perhaps you never do… No matter what act you throw at me, I know perfectly what you want— who you need. And it is me, my lady. It shall always be me.” Aemond gritted as your cunt clenched further, your release coming quickly as he had denied you of pleasure earlier. “You’re never leaving me… you’re mine.” 

You try to shake your head, but the sensation of your peak coming over you had muddled your senses, and all you could do was cling to the prince and let him kiss your lips as he spilled his seed deep inside your cunt. 

“You’re mine. Say it.” Aemond panted as he collapsed atop your frame. Your skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, plump lips parted, and cheeks scarlet. You let out heavy breaths, wanting to deny him with words, but as you stared upon his lilac eyes, you could not help but succumb. “I’m yours.” The prince let out a satisfied hum and kissed your lips once more before reluctantly moving to clean the mess that two of you had made so you could finally acquire much-needed respite.

“My lady… the prince and your meal waits for you in your chambers.” A maid said, as you had been busy overseeing the preparations for the feast. “Could you tell him I shall be there momentarily? He can begin eating; I shall take a moment.” You say, as your attention was caught by the other squires who began to decorate the hall that was still in ruins. You had no idea how a feast could be celebrated here. And you could only pray to each god that it would no longer rain as all the guests would be drenched and your efforts would be wasted. 

“He refuses to eat until you come, my lady,” The maid said, and you let out an aggravated sigh. “Very well, see to it that they hand that banner higher… and do not let any wilted flowers be placed on the vases,” You said, and the maid fervently nodded as you hastily ventured towards the prince’s chambers. 

“I have told you not to bother yourself with the preparations.” Those were the first words that greeted you as you entered the chambers. The prince sat before the various dishes that were untouched as he had waited for you. “You should have begun eating; your food is growing cold, my prince.” You instead said, as you did not wish to entertain the quarrel that the prince was starting to begin. 

“I have called for you, but you had denied me,” Aemond stated, growing angry as you had brushed him off because your concern lay with the preparations. Before, when he asked for your presence, you would be quick to come to his side. “Apologies, my prince. It shall not happen again… it is only that I was assisting them in the pr—“ 

“I have told you that you need not be the one to prepare the feast! You are exhausting yourself!” The prince seethed, and you clutched on tightly at the back of a chair. “I… I am fine, your highness.” You say, though you knew whatever word you uttered would be moot and would not lessen the fiery anger inside the prince. “No, you are not. You should not be tired— it is not good for your countenance nor the babe’s!” 

You sighed and were ready to speak, but as you realized what he said, your lips parted in confusion. “The babe?” You questioned and watched as the prince pursed his lips. “But I am not pregnant, your highness.” You explained and felt your hands grow cold. “Precisely. How could you be pregnant when you constantly exhaust yourself?”

Confusion consumed your system, and you had to take a seat as you tried to figure out what the prince asked of you. “What…. what—“ you try to speak, but your words elude you. “I want an heir.” The prince stated. You looked upon him blankly, not certain if he was intoxicated or if you were deluded with tiredness. “You want an heir…with… me?” You questioned slowly and felt a pool of dread come to your stomach. “Have I not made it quite obvious?” The prince scoffed as he realized that his actions were not taken clearly. 

He had been wondering why, after all these moons, his seed was not taking. He had been impatient to see you swollen with his babe, and that was the reason why he fretted you exhausting yourself. Now he realized that you had no plan to give him the heir he wanted and been using measures to make certain you would not grow with child. 

“But I am in no station to bear you an heir. I am just your whore.” You say and tear slowly trickled in your system as the prince’s hand clenched around his chalice, and he stood to go over where you sat. You watched through apprehension as the prince knelt before where you sat, and his hand cupped your cheek. “You are a lady. A lady who has the blood of old Valyria in her veins. And you, my lady, shall bear my sons and daughters.” The prince stated, his voice uncharacteristically soft. There was certainty in his lone lilac eye that took you aback, and it took everything in you to not beleive it. “No, I— “

Aemond let out a harsh breath, his hold on your cheek growing slightly harsher but not enough to cause discomfort, more so just to assert his power, control, and wanting. “You will not deny me of this. You shall be the mother of my children, and you shall forever be bound to me.” You looked upon the prince, horrified, and quickly stood to acquire space between you two, but as always, he did not let even a single second pass where he was not close to you. “No! Marry a lady— another lady— I—“ You try to protest, but he is quick to speak and cut you off. There is darkness in his eye that you have come to know, and you feel your knees grow weak as you anticipate what he is going to say. 

“I do not think you understand. I have no want for the other ladies. I want you. And you are and will forever be mine. And soon, a child will grow in your belly, and he shall be ours.” He stated, face threading closer to yours. “You will sire a bastard?” You question and hear a sardonic laugh leave his lips, his nose touching your skin, the prince using it to tauntingly trace lines on your cheeks. “No. You shall be the mother of my children… and my lady wife. You have no escape from me now… by the eyes of gods and men, you are completly mine.” 

You shake your head, feeling as tears burn your eyes, but you refuse to let them slip. “No.” You croaked out, and Aemond let out another laugh. “No? It was not a question, my darling. You are mine. And you shall be my wife and bear my heirs.” You shook your head once more. “It’s not as if you shall have any other choice. You forget, I have bought you… You have nowhere to go to but me. Not even your traiterous father’s house will accept you now… nor the line of suitors I heard tell you had, for who would want the prince’s whore? Certainly no one… no one but me.” The prince said menacingly. Doing his best to impart to you that there was no one else but him. It shall only be him in your life. And it shall only be him where you can run to. 

“Now, do not cry, my lady… You would not wish for our babe to be a sad when he is born.” The prince tried to hush you, cupping your cheeks and wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I— I have told you, I am not pregnant.” You say harshly and watched as a smirk rose on his lips. “You are not pregnant yet. But fret not, that shall change soon.” You gasped as the prince intertwined your lips, and you tried to push him away, but whatever resistance you made was not enough. 

“See… you cannot even deny me with your lips— you want this too. Enough with the act. I’m growing overly tired of it. Accept that you are mine.” The prince whispered in your ear as he turned your body so your back faced him. You shut your eyes tightly as you feel his hand cup your tit and the other hike up your skirt. 

“You are mine. Say it, my lady. Stop lying to yourself. I know fully well that you are in want of me as well.” The prince whispered as he felt your body respond so eagerly to him. Your skin was riddled with gooseflesh, and the bodice of your gown could not hide the way your nipples strained through the fabric. “Enough with your self-deprecation… you are the only who considers yourself a whore.” 

“But it is true. You have made me your whore.” You spat as you tried to appear stoic and seem unaffected by the prince’s touch. But with how warmth pooled between your legs, it was growing harder to conceal it. You hated yourself as your body and mind could never conincide, your bodily whims always made the final decision as it could never resist the prince and the pleasure he offered. 

“Aye, I have. You are my whore in my chambers, when it is just the two of us. And you play the part so well… but outside? When we are in the eyes of the smallfolk? You are a lady… my lady. Now, enough of this— succumb to me, as you have done before. Be my whore, my wife, the mother of my children— be mine.” 

You let out a yelp as the prince suddenly took hold of your frame and carried you to the bed. Making good on his desires to have you bear his children. “No— Please—“ You cried as he began to rip apart your gown, the prince now far gone as his mind was conquered with the thought of you swollen with his child. His cold, calloused hands roamed your body, mapping every curve, desperate to claim every inch of you.

"You are mine," he rasped, his breath fanning your skin. "And tonight, I will make certain of it.” He promised, but in his mind, you were his the moment he had saw and claimed your maidenhead in the whore house. It was only you that he waited upon to accept the truth that you were his. 

Your gown was no match for his impatience—fingers tearing at the laces, fabric parting beneath his rough hands as he stripped you bare before him. Aemond's gaze darkened as he drank in the sight of you, his hunger sharpened to a lethal edge. "You will take me," he said, voice laced with possession. "And you will bear my children, my darling. I will see you round with my seed, swollen with my heir."

His words sent heat through you, a mixture of anticipation and something primal. His lips found yours again, his tongue sweeping past your lips as he stole every sensible thought in your mind. The night stretched long, filled with his whispers, his praises, and his oaths that you were his as he sought to imprint himself upon you, not just in this moment but for both of your futures—one where he would see you full with his heir, bound to him forever. And gods help you, but at this moment, when his cock filled you and his fingers played with taut buds of your tits and your mind was consumed by the image of him pleasuring you, you wanted it just as desperately as he did.

“Why me?” You could not help but ask as you lay on the prince’s chest. His fingers running through your hair, his little ritual to aid you both in sleep. “What?” He asked quietly after a moment. “Why me? Why could you not just claim another? Why could you not set me free?” You asked, voice heavy both with sleep and emotion. 

“It is simply because I want you. You need not wonder why or question my decision— I want you, my lady… I have never wanted— needed anything more that I have wanted and needed you.” You stared blankly upon the pale skin of the prince that you lay upon—letting him continiously run his fingers through your hair. Your mind did not wish to believe his words. Regretting asking him the question because it paled with further confusion and strain in your mind. 

“I will never be free, will I?” You asked, a tear sliding out of your eye. “Never. You shall forever be by my side, my lady.” Aemond swore, ignoring the tear he felt that left your eye for he believed that in time you shall fully accept him and your station. 

You sat quietly in the great hall of Harrenhall. Riverlords gathered and celebrated the victory of the prince and his faction. You sat at the great table, your prayers heard as the unceasing rain finally ceased for the night and not made your efforts moot. You tilted your head upward, the stars shining upon the hall, stars you had not seen for so long finally revealed themselves on the night a where an announcement you still could not comprehend was to be uttered. 

You feel the prince take hold of your hand under the table, squeezing the apandage and urging you to look upon him. You did so reluctantly and were quietly shocked to see serenity and perhaps even joy in his usual cold lilac gaze. 

“I have just received word,” He whispered, and you stayed silent as you waited for him to impart to you what he had learned. “My brother… he has succumbed to his injuries.” Your eyes widened at the news, but mostly because there was not an ounce of sadness nor concern in him. “I— are you to tell them?” You asked, glancing towards the guests who were none the wiser of the turmoil happening in the capitol. 

“No. This is our night. Let them know of it after, but tonight. We, my lady— my future queen shall be all that matters.” He murmured, and you feel your stomach pit with something that was not dread. 

Before you could speak once more, the prince stood, and you watched as the hall turned silent as all palced thier attention to the prince who now was to be king. “Welcome all! As many know, we are here to celebrate our victory not only here in the Riverlands but the whole of Westoros.” The prince began, letting a rare smile slip his lips as he had come to realize that all that he wanted since he was a child was finally in his grasp. The crown, adoration of the kingdom, and most importantly, you. Someone that was his. A woman who shall be his queen and the mother of his children. 

“But tonight, we shall as well celebrate my marriage with Lady Celtigar!” You feel time freeze as the hall is rendered to stony silence at the prince’s words. When Aemond made you stand, his smile grew as the hall burst into cheers. No matter how much you sold to yourself as a whore— someone who was lowly, you were still well recieved by they noble houses and smallfolk as though you were not completly sold in the green’s faction, you still showed compassion and empathy towards those who faught in the war. Aemond wagdered that they would have no trouble in accepting you as queen.

“To Prince Aemond and Lady Celtigar!” You hear someone shout through the cheers and claps. The prince once again took your hand and moved it to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles. You stared into his eye, and for the first time since you had met him in the whore house, you finally started to believe that your place was by his side. For the first time, you felt that you were more than the prince’s whore.

[eraenaa]

Prince's Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader

Synopsis: What proceeded as Prince Aemond had made you his whore. 

Warnings: Dub-Con, Harsher Aemond, Mature, Maltreatment, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 2,789

Prequel: Virginal Whore

“Have you now learned your lesson?” The prince asked, smirking as he saw your hopeless eyes and your bounded arms and legs. It was a last resort he had come to; the past moon, all you did was try to escape him, and Aemond could not stand for anyone getting in between him and what was his. You whimpered as you felt his touch on your bare waist. He had bound your hands with a silk cloth that was tied to the bed frame, and no amount of tugging or thrashing could free you from the shackles of the prince. 

You looked quite ravishing even in your frantic and desperate state— perhaps even more so, the prince thought. Your face was scarlet as pearl tears ran down your cheeks, lips swollen and crying out for release, your chest heaving as you tried to be freed. Aemond could no longer control the surge of unbridled desire coursing through him; it was harder to reign in his depravity when he knew you were his. “Please, please, I beg you, my prince— release me— kill me! Whatever it is… just let me go,” You cried as your dignity could no longer stomach being the prince’s whore. 

Aemond hummed, running his calloused hands along your smooth, supple body, grasping your flesh that was riddled with his marks. “And why should I do that, my lady? Enough with the act… do not pretend you do not enjoy your station here. Dotted and served upon each day and pleasured by me each night. Hundreds of ladies would kill for such a station as yours,” Aemond hummed, ignoring your cries and holding down your body as he placed a kiss on your navel and upwards towards your stomach. Inhaling deeply your scent that was mingled with his. “And why should I let you go? You’re rightfully and completely mine.” Aemond stated and took your heaving tit into his mouth, your whimpers growing louder as the taut bud was raw with attention from him each and every single night. 

You feel more tears stream from your eyes as your body is quick to succumb to pleasure even if your mind tries to resist it. “See how you respond to my touch… I would wager your cunt is aching for my attention, is it not, my lady?’’ The prince hummed and used his pointed nose to trace the apex of your neck, lips grazing your skin, and left a trail of blazing heat. You cried louder but your voice was useless as no one would dare to come to your aid. You feel the prince’s hand trail your thigh, inching dangerously close to your aching core that wept and longed for his touch— going against sensibilities as your cunt was as depraved as the prince’s cock. “Stop— please, I beg you, my prince,” You cried as you thrashed in his hold. Your legs were free from any restraints, and you tried to kick away the lithe yet solid figure of the prince regent, but he was unmovable. 

“Beg louder, my lady; it only makes me want to ravish you more,” He smirked against your lips. Enjoying the further horror in your eyes as you realize that your desperate state was serving as an amusement for the cruel prince. Aemond was playing with you, and never had he found such pleasure in a toy before. You were the prince’s plaything— his doll— his whore. You abruptly stopped your thrashing movements and ceased the desperate pleas leaving your lips, hoping that your silence and stillness would not entice the prince, but it was moot. Whatever it is you do, the prince could not cease himself from needing you. 

Aemond smirked as you quietly stared up at him wide-eyed. He hummed as his hand cupped your cunt, your wetness coating his fingers and palm. “See, you want me as well, my lady. Stop denying it— do you not find it exhausting as you constantly deprive yourself of the pleasure of being completely mine?” He hummed as he circled your sore nubbin. You bit your lip as you were determined not to give him any indication of satisfaction in you, but it was useless as the sound of your arousal echoed through the chambers. “Submit to me— admit that you are mine, and both of us could cease this tiring game,” Aemond sighed as he slipped a finger into your core, your cunt readily clenching around the digit. 

He waited on bated breath as he memorized each movement and reluctant sound that left your plush lips. Continuing to deny yourself pleasure. In a way, it was frustrating for the prince, even if he did find amusement in your resistance. All he wanted was for you to submit— to admit that each part of you belonged to him. Your back arched as your fingers clasped tightly around the cloth that bound them, “Do you wish to come, my lady?” He taunted as he felt your cunt spasming around his fingers. You cried in pleasure but made no reply. “If you wish for release, you know what you must do.” Aemond slowed his pleasurable actions as he saw your eyes roll back in utter satisfaction that you were stubborn enough to deny. 

Aemond used his other hand to grasp your tit, pinching the pebbled flesh, and felt you squirm in search of release. “Say that you are mine, and all that you want shall be yours, my lady.” Aemond hummed as he savored the feel of your skin. You let out a frustrated cry and pulled at your restraints. A moment passed and you still did not give a response. Prince Aemond sighed, removing his fingers from your cunt, and took off his hold on your tit. You whimpered at the loss of sensation of his calloused and cruel touch. “Very well then,” he gritted as his cock painfully throbbed in his trousers. He stood and moved to exit the chambers, denying the both of you release. 

As you watched the departing figure of the prince, your mind admitted defeat and forged any ounce of self-respect and dignity. “I… I’m yours!” You cried in indignation. The prince halted at his steps as he heard the words perfectly clear but still taunted you and made you repeat your submission to him. “I’m yours, my prince. I’m yours to do with as you please,” Your pride stung as the words left your lips, but nothing could compare to the ache in your cunt. “Yes, you are,” Aemond smirked and slowly made his way back to you to relieve you of your desperation. 

You stared upon the ceiling as the prince’s face was burrowed in your neck. Prince Aemond was sleeping soundly, his arms around your frame and caging you in—determined not to let you go, not even in sleep. You feel yourself recoil upon your decision— your submission in exchange for fleeting moments of pleasure. It was not as if you had much of a choice. You could not live freely nor die with dignity— you had not a choice but to succumb to the prince and admit your station as his whore, and perhaps, in time, you could earn a sliver of his trust and when the time comes, flee and live all of this behind. 

You barely slept that night, and when the prince woke, he was surprised to see that you were still deep in slumber. Usually, you would be the first to wake. Aemond brushed away a lock of your hair and placed tender and soft kisses upon your bare shoulder. His touch was feather light as he had no wish to wake you.

The prince offered you much-needed respite, and when you woke, it was midday. A servant glowering down at you in unmasked animosity as she held up your silk robe given to you by the prince. You stayed silent as it was growing harder to ignore the distaste held against by those employed by the prince. “Your bath is ready, m’lady,” she basically spat, and you followed her to the wet room. You shivered as the water was not at all warm, but you bit back your tongue as you did not wish to complain and give them further ammunition to dislike you. You had heard them gossiping the other day, complaining as to why they must serve you as well when you were merely the prince’s whore. You had wished to confront them— implore them to believe that you found no joy in your station and, in truth, you would rather be a scullery maid or a kitchen wench rather than be tasked to warm the prince’s bed. 

You took in a deep breath as they poured piercing cold water atop your head and roughly cleansed you. They were disregarding any pain or soreness that you harbored, not at all minding the bruises left by the prince as he had his way with you. Your teeth chattered, and you felt tears prickling your eyes, yet you still bore it all. You took in a deep breath as they poured water onto you once more, the cold water making it harder for you to breathe; you had barely recovered nor took another breath as they did the action once more, and again for a third time. You felt like drowning as the two servants were relentless in pouring water atop your head, disguising their hostility towards you in the act of cleansing. 

You feel your lungs tighten and your vision further blurry as you wave your hand for them to hinder their actions, but they ignore you. “Enough!” The prince roared, none of you aware that he was standing by the doorframe of the wet room, observing as they bathed you. “Can you not see your lady cannot breathe!” He roared as he noticed the scarlet on your chest and face as a consequence of your lack of air. He stood by the tub you sat upon in an instant, his angered face severing as he realized they bathed you with icy water that did nothing to calm your nerves or the ache in your body. You sat quietly with your head downturned towards the water as Prince Aemond seethed at the servants for their treatment of you. You did not know if you should hinder him from scolding the maids or thank him for defending you as you were silently being mistreated by the help. 

Aemond furiously brushed away the maids and knelt by the tub you sat upon, your frame shivering and your gaze cast downwards. “How long?” He gritted as he cupped your cheek, feeling the coldness of your skin. He moved to retrieve your robe, assisted you to stand, and guided you to the warmth of the hearth. “How long?” He asked once more, and you knitted your brows. “How long what, my prince?” You feigned cluelessness. “Do not act simple with me, my lady. How long have they been mistreating you?” You bit your tongue at the irony the prince presented. Accusing his help of maltreatment when he had kept you in his room and presence against your will. 

“They do no such thing—they… they do their duties,” you say, fearing that if you told the whole truth, the prince would act rashly and lead the servants to resent you further. “Do not lie; that is unbecoming of a lady,” Aemond gritted, and you shook your head. “I am no lady now… I am merely your whore. And they question as to why must they tend to the needs of a girl who is a servant as well.” You gritted, a surge of bravery coursing through your veins as the words rolled effortlessly off your tongue.

Aemond gritted his jaw as your eyes urged him for an explanation that he had none. “You are a highborn lady— how dare you even complain when I have made your stay here comfortable? What ingrate you are!” Aemond spat, and you shook your head, “I am your prisoner, my prince,” You said quietly. Your breath hitched as the prince grabbed your face in his rough hand and made you turn to him. “Prisoner or not, you are still a lady— a lady who has the blood of Old Valyria running through her veins. Mere servants will not question my orders— if I tell them to tend and serve you, they will do so with no complaints.” You held back your tongue, instead focusing on warming yourself further. 

You peeked through your lashes and saw as the prince observed you. You tried to ignore his presence, but it was a task that was impossible. You chewed on your lips and sighed, “I… I thank you for your concern, but it has no place to be bestowed on a person in my station.” You muttered, still having an announce of cordiality as the prince did show an ounce of kindness even though he took advantage of his power. “You are still a lady— my actions are not brought out of kindness but rather the truth of your station.” You frowned, still disagreeing. He kept on insisting that you were still a lady, but that title was stripped from you the moment the prince burrowed himself in your cunt. 

You stayed silent and returned to look upon the fire. The prince sighed and stood, moving to return to his duties for the day. “Could I make a request?” You suddenly asked before he could leave. Aemond paused by the door. “Could I at least right to my father? To inform him that I am live— it need not say where I am and what I had become… but I just want him to know that I still live.” You pleaded, widening your eyes in a plea. The prince did not speak. “Very well. I will write and send the letter myself— but you have my word; your father will know that you still live.”

You breathed heavily as your hips rolled against the prince. You atop of him with his cock buried deep inside your cunny as you both sought out pleasure. Aemond smirked as you tilted your head back, your body rocking against his and your cunt clenching tightly as a telltale sign that you were about to come. He reached to take hold of your tits, squeezing the soft flesh tightly, and the harshness only brought you further pleasure.  

“See how well you take me, my lady? Look at how pleased you are… why have you been so stubborn when you know that this is your rightful place? With my cock deep inside your cunt?” Aemond breathed out; his own climax was fast coming. You only replied with a moan, taking hold of his hands that held your bosom to implore him to keep his hold there. Aemond thrusted against you desperately, “Who do you belong to?” Aemond questioned, only one answer he would accept. You could not comprehend his words, too blinded by the way the prince’s cock was hitting the spot in your cunt that made you lose all your sensibilities. “Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Aemond gritted, and each word ended with a deep thrust that finally made you hear his question. 

You leaned forward with a desperate cry, “Y… yours. I’m yours, my prince.” Aemond moved his hands to cup your behind and aid your frenzied movements. “Good,” he muttered before kissing your lips as you and him found release. As the haze of your brazen fucking had settled, the prince rested in your arms, him playing with your fingers as you two began to rest for the night.  

“Had you written to my father?” You asked delicately, not wanting to agitate or anger the prince. Aemond hummed, placing soft kisses on your fingertips. “I have.” He confirmed. “May I ask what you had written?” You questioned. Aemond breathed in deeply your scent before he spoke. “I had told him you are alive… that you are still here in Westeros… and you had denounced your allegiance towards my half-sister.” Your eyes widened, not expecting the prince to tell your father such things. “What?” You asked in dread. 

Prince Aemond’s touch moved from your fingers to your face, cupping your heated cheeks. “And I informed him of your station here as well.” You felt like you could faint, the color in your face draining except the flush on your cheeks. “You told him I was your whore?” You questioned meekly. Aemond smirked, his face threading closer to yours. “I told him you were mine.” You could not respond because the prince had claimed your lips as he had claimed each inch of you. 

Tag List: peachysunrize gelacat0413 maidmerrymint aemondwhoresworld fireydragonblood anukulee spacexdrago amanda08319 seamaiden aylasrants blackswxnn dracaryxzs trashpackbitch tomie-it-girl mamawiggers1980 chaosluvr deine-schatz

[eraenaa]

Twin Flame

Aemond Targaryen x Twin Reader

Synopsis: Anywhere that you are, that I’d be. Following Aemond to the Riverlands against your better judgment and sensibilities because you knew all too well you could never be apart from your twin.

Warnings: ¿Angst?, Targcest, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 2,333

A/N: (1) Based on a request where they wanted "Aemond has a twin sister, they both love each other, more than sibilings should, but ofc they could never do something about it.When Aemond takes Harrenhall he sees the opportunity, and gets his sister to go with him. At the end making Harrenhall their piece of paradise, where they can love each other freely without the expectations of their family or the court." (2) Find the song references ;)

“Come with me, sister, come with me to Harrenhall.” You feel your stomach pit at the vulnerability in your twin’s voice. A vulnerability that you had not seen nor heard for so long— a vulnerability that he had hidden away, but it would always shine through for you. “Aemond,” You sighed, resisting the urge to turn to him. Your knees already felt weak, and to look upon your twin’s face would surely make you rethink everything that needs to be done. Just a look upon Aemond’s pleading face would make you forget about all the sensibilities that your brother seemed to ignore. “Please… I need you, ñuha perzys.” (My fire)

“And they need me, Aemond. You know this.” You choked. “With you gone and Aegon burnt and Ser Criston away… who will be with Helaena and Mother? Sister has already refused her dragon even for her own sake— someone must protect them, Aemond. If not you, then me.” You looked upon your twin’s eye and saw unshed tears. “But you are meant to be with me— to be by my side! From the womb to our tomb, we are meant to be with each other! Do you dare to separate us? You? My own twin would be the one to tear us apart?” You shook your head. “Aemond… the circumstances have changed! You know what we must do! I—I cannot leave our mother and sister defenseless! I must stay here, and you must go to Harrenhall… without me.” Aemond took hold of your arm, his grasp harsh. Unwilling to let you go. “I will die in Harrenhall without you,” 

“Oh, Aemond,” You sighed, stepping forward and cupping his cheek, feeling as a tear fell. “If you die, I will shortly follow after. You know I cannot live without my twin flame.” You whispered. “We must do our duties, brother… were you not the one who taught and had embedded that in my head? We must play our roles here and deny ourselves comfort and… and our desires.” Aemond scoffed. “Deny ourselves?” He spat. “We have been denying ourselves the moment we were born! You and I, and they know we belong together, but what have they done? They had plotted to separate us the moment we came to this world! Forcing us to betrothals that align with our duties and pay no mind to what we want!” You swallowed thickly, caressing his cheek to calm the fire in his veins. 

“Can you not see, sister? If we are in Harrenhall, we will be free. We shall command the Riverlands together— just you and I and our dragons. We will reign fire upon the usurpers and their bannermen; we shall take what is rightfully ours, and no one could hinder us anymore.” 

“Oh, my love… your mind is muddled— deluded.” You say softly, but Aemond furiously shakes his head. “Do you not want to be with me?” He asked, voice holding a magnitude of hurt that broke the heart that you shared with him. “I do. But you know I can’t. Not when Mother and Hela—“ 

“Enough with your excuses! They had made their decisions— they have no intentions of winning this war— let alone fighting it! Mother still holds love for our enemy, and our enemy still holds love for her. No one from their side would dare harm Helaena, and you know this!” You looked at him, appalled by his words. “You would leave them defenseless?” You say in disgust. “I would leave them to be with you! If you would make me choose between them and you— you already know the answer, so be merciful, sister, and not make me utter it.” You did not know whether to focus on the dread in your heart or the overflowing love for Aemond. “Gods, brother… this is no use. You know what we must do, and I beg you, my love, to accept our fates. We must go our separate ways. I’m sorry.” You almost sobbed, urging him to let go of his hold of you. You placed a tender kiss upon the side of his lips and felt another tear roll from his eye. “I love you, Aemond… but I’m sorry, I cannot come with you.”

Aemond left for the Riverlands before first light, and you felt his departure by the throbbing pit in your heart; half of you had left. “You must know that this is for the better, my sweet,” Your mother whispered, staring into your eyes, which resembled your twin’s. Though she bore the both of you on the same day, she often had difficulty accepting that the two of you were twins. Because where Aemond was brutal, you were gentle. Where Aemond was rash, you were rational. What the other lacked, the other had— never complete, but whole when together.

“I know. I—I think I know… but mother, I feel like I had betrayed him,” You said. You knew perfectly well both of your roles and what must be done to save your family and faction, but you could not help but feel the lack pitting in you within just a few hours of your beloved twin’s departure. Alicent sighed and cupped your cheek as she saw the tears welling in your eyes. “What you did is for the sake of me and your sister, and we are forever grateful for you, my love. You had made your choice, and Ameond his.” You nodded, unable to look your mother in the eye because as much as you tried to sell to Aemond that the reason for your reluctance to come with him was your mother and sister— you had used that as a ploy to hinder him from leaving and going to the Riverlands because you never thought your twin flame could leave you. 

You knew Harrenhall had to be felled in order to have an advantage in the war, but when the castle fell, you had been warned by Helaena that Aemond would soon follow. You could not let that be. And you foolishly thought that if you hindered him from going to Harrenhall by denying yourself to follow him, you could perhaps redo the prophecy. 

“She must go to him.” Helaena suddenly spoke, breaking the silence between you and your mother. Your gaze flew to your sister, who looked distantly out of the window. “No. Sister, I stayed here for you and Mother.” You say, feeling your mother hold onto your hands. Helaena turned to you with a knowing yet far-off look in her eyes. “You stayed here for him. But he needs you in Harrenhall.” Your mother shook her head, “Your sister will stay here with us. And in time, when need be… we shall leave this all behind— live… live a quiet life. Somewhere away from all this bloodshed.” 

“Leave?” You questioned, brows deeply furrowed. “Leave for where? This is our home, mother.” You added, Alicent licking her lips and gaze traveling the room. “I did not stay here with you and abandon my twin so that we could leave our home!” You practically yelled as you realized the plan that your mother had concocted. “Kingslanding is ours thanks to Aemond. Do you mean to abandon it? Leave it for what? The woods? Essos?” You asked incredulously. “We will leave kingslanding for somewhere safe! Away from fire and revolt! Away from dra—“ You abruptly stood and removed your mother’s hold. “But we are dragons!” You screamed. Alicent shook her head, the influence of Aemond shining through you during his absence. 

“There is nothing more to be said,” Helaena spoke again, sensing an argument was to break. “We will leave, and so shall you.” You licked your lips and shook your head as you walked towards your sister. “Helaena,” You sighed. “Go to Aemond, sister. He needs you more than we do. You are his twin… his opposing force— only you could calm his rage.” You turned to your mother, who looked upon you and your sister, defeated and picking at her fingertips. She gave a hesitant nod, her plan failing as she could never truly take you away from Aemond, no matter what plan she had concocted ever since both of your childhoods. You were wholly Aemond’s, and no one could deny you from him— not even yourself. 

You arrived in Harrenhall in the dead of night. No one questioned your arrival as they had let you and your dragon pass freely, making you question if your twin had warned them; Aemond was already sensing that you would come for him. 

You walked through the eerie halls of the ruined castle as you relied on your intuition as to where your beloved was. You reached a door with the faint light of the hearth shining through the cracks. You carefully pushed upon the warped wooden door and immediately saw your twin lying on the right side of the bed, a pillow placed on the left where he draped his arm upon— the same position he would have whenever you two would sneak upon each other’s chambers and sleep in each other’s comfort. 

You threaded lightly as you stood by Aemond’s side, gently running your hand through his silky hair. Immediately, he woke and turned to you, his lilac eye wide. You saw confusion, apprehension, and shock in his lilac eye. “It’s just me,” You say softly and soothingly, cupping his cheek and tracing his scar with your familiar touch. “You… you came,” He said in disbelief. “Of course. I came for you,” 

You held your breath as Aemond reached up and kissed your lips. You two had only done such acts a few times before, but you had both placed great restraints upon yourselves to never repeat actions again or let your desires stray further. “I knew you would come back to me.” He whispered against your lips, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. “I could never truly leave you alone, now can I? You are half of me, Aemond… I cannot live without the half of my soul.” As the words left your lips, Aemond moved to kiss you once more, moving you to straddle him on the bed. 

“I have only ever wanted you, my fire… only you.” He breathed heavily. Letting his lips stray to your neck, brushing away your hair that you had inherited from your mother. Hair that reminded him of the fire that burned brightly in your veins. “You are all that I need. With you here, I could die happily.” You abruptly parted. “Do not say such things, Aemond. If you die, I’ll shortly follow, and there will be fury that you must pay.” You say harshly, glaring at your twin, who only sadistically grinned at your words. You could not even think of such things, for it only left devastation— if your twin was taken from you, it would only leave you bereft and reeling as he would be the loss of your life. “And I shall do the same. I will follow you into the dark, my fire.” 

Your lips found home upon his again, your hips moving upon his, feeling his need greatly protruding upon your heat. “Aemond,” You mewled, feeling him leave marks upon your neck. “Do you need me as much as I need you?” He hummed. “Answer, sweet sis, will you finally relent and open your eyes to see that you are mine? Or will we still have to deny ourselves?” He questioned. “I’m yours, my love. You have known it ever since— no matter what I say— no matter what has been done, I was and will always be yours.” You breathed heavily. 

You gasped as you felt his hand slither in between the both of you to cup your cunt. Aemond groaned as he felt your wetness seeping through your small clothes. “Aemond, please, please, please— do not make me beg. I want you badly.” You pleaded, Aemond completely amused by your desperation but merciful enough not to let you plead for him further. Your eyes rolled back as you felt him slip a finger into your cunt as his thumb drew lazy circles upon your pulsating pearl. 

You found his lips again, your tongues battling for dominance as your cunt was completly in his control. “More, Aemond, I need more,” You cried, frustrated as you could not find the release you sought desperately for. “Of course you do,” Aemond taunted but still obliged. You lifted your hips as his cock was released from the confines of his night trousers. “Gods,” You cried as you sank upon his length, your nails digging onto his shoulders as his mouth was enclosed upon your tit that he pulled out from your clothing. “You kept yourself pure for me— you truly knew to whom you belong, do you not, sister?” Aemond gritted, already consumed by the pleasure that you and he had denied yourselves. When you sank completely onto his length and when the tip of his cock was perfectly hitting the spot in your cunt, you finally felt complete.

Aemond kissed the tears of pain and pleasure away as your hips moved slowly and cautiously, as each movement only provided pain due to his well-endowed length. “You were made for me,” Aemond groaned as your tight cunt clenched around him further. “Only you could make me feel as such, and only I can make you feel like this.” He growled against your skin. 

When you finally felt conviction, you moved your hips fervently against Aemond’s. The sound of your wet cunt, slapping skin, and your the pleasured moans filled the room. Words of love and desire that had not been uttered but were always known spewed from both of your lips and when you felt your release coming, you locked your lips with Aemond’s and let yourself come undone in the arms of the man that had been yours the moment you two were born. 

Tag List: peachysunrize gelacat0413 maidmerrymint aemondwhoresworld fireydragonblood anukulee spacexdrago amanda08319 seamaiden aylasrants blackswxnn dracaryxzs trashpackbitch tomie-it-girl mamawiggers1980 chaosluvr deine-schatz