summary: a year after leaving jericho and your past behind, you return to nevermore upon a heinous request and meet its new dark star. will your encounter unveil the secrets of the school or herald your undoing?
warnings : wlw slowburn; mentions of violence; dark themes ahead.
summary: it's prank day at nevermore and, amidst the chaos, you have a crucial mission.
word count: 6k
warnings : fem reader; mentions of violence; dark themes ahead.
You fiddled with the blood bag in your hand, watching as the crimson liquid rolled with the pressure you applied. You were trying to save your supply for emergencies, but you hadn’t eaten since arrival day. The raw beef served at the cafeteria had little to no actual blood in its tissues, filling you with nothing more than homesickness. During the several months you spent in your country, your family took the liberty of acquiring human blood without extreme law breaches, despite defying a myriad of moral values. As a criminal judge, your father had access to the deadliest of felons, and he worked his way towards his benefit. Whether it was justified, it wasn’t your decision to make, but you were old enough to know animal blood can only get you so far.
You looked up with a sigh, contemplating the beam of light invading your room through a small section of the stained glass that wasn’t covered by the curtain. When you gripped the silky drapery to drag it to its full extent, you saw a black figure dash on the other side of the window and rose from your seat in a jolt. Throwing the coal cloth to the opposite side, you let the sunlight occupy the place altogether and pushed the glass open so you could come out onto the balcony.
“Cerise?” You called out, wondering if your raven had escaped your parents to pay you a visit. Yet even coming to stand against the balustrade, you caught no sight of any bird whatsoever. It was only the sudden bashing against your door that pulled you out of your discontented daze.
“Coming!” You shouted to ease the visitor’s desperation as you rushed for the door. “Enid?” You frowned at the sight of the restless werewolf. “What was all that?”
“I seriously need your help!” Enid cried out as she barged into your room.
“What happened?” You followed her in worry. “Does it have to do with Wednesday?”
“Yes.” She nodded with quivering lips. “I think we might have killed her!” Her statement removed the very little life left in you.
“What..?” You gulped, feeling the air get caught in your throat. “She’s… dead?”
“She is…” Enid averted her gaze towards the floor, letting out a sob. “As soon as I see her again!” You furrowed your brow in irritation, and she raised her hands with a childish grin. “Happy Prank Day!”
“You didn’t do that.” You glared at her with a mild shake of your head. Her grin became wider as she began stepping back, knowing what you were up to once you went for the gargoyle paperweight over the desk.
“I’m sorry! I swear!” Enid shrieked as she grabbed the blood bag on top of the fridge and ran to the other side of the room, jumping onto the unclaimed bed. “Don’t!” She held the bag in front of her face while you aimed the ceramic piece from the ground. “Think of your precious food!”
“You better sleep with one eye open tonight.” You declared before placing the sculpture back on the table, and Enid flopped down on the bed with a huff.
“Seriously, though. I need your help.” She lifted the blood bag as you approached her. “Can I borrow this?”
“What for?”
“Pranking Wednesday.” You tilted your head with raised eyebrows. “She deserves it. As if not updating me on her state wasn’t enough, she left a fake eyeball on my pillow!”
“Fair enough.” You grabbed your bag from the hanger and threw it over your shoulder. “Count me in.”
The two of you had spread a trail of blood from the center of their room to the balcony, where Enid lay still as you painted a narrow cut on her neck.
“This is pig’s blood, right?” Enid winced, making you cease your movements and stare at her from the corner of your eye.
“Right.” You resumed your work in a hurry to add its final touches. “I can hear her coming.”
Enid braced herself for the act, and you hid as a bat behind one of the stone figures. Wednesday entered the room seconds later, lingering by the door until she discerned what was playing out before her eyes.
“Enid?” Wednesday sprang towards the deck, and you regretted partaking in the prank when you heard her heartbeat for the first time since your arrival. “Enid!” She stared at her friend’s feeble body with wide eyes. “Thing, get help!” She demanded of her right hand, only for Enid to start laughing.
“Got ya!” She pointed a finger out as she sat up. “Happy Prank Day!”
“Prank Day?” Wednesday narrowed her gaze in subtle mortification, and you took it as your cue to come out, returning to your usual form.
“It’s an annual Nevermore tradition. I forgot about it myself.” You sent Enid a knowing look, getting an innocent smile in return.
“You were involved in this?” Wednesday glared at you before drifting her gaze away. “That’s why it smells like actual blood.”
“Tell me about it…” Enid grimaced, then shrugged her shoulders in satisfaction. “But it was totally worth it! The look on your face when you thought I was dead — that was priceless.” You observed Wednesday’s poor attempt at hiding her wounded ego behind a cold, fractured stare. “I’ll carry that memory to my grave!”
“You might end up there sooner than you think.” Enid frowned in objection.
“I was just getting you back for that fake eyeball on my pillow.”
“What fake eyeball?” Wednesday’s brow furrowed.
“The one that isn’t fake.” You added, making Enid stand up with a gasp.
“What? Why didn’t you say anything when I showed you?” You winced at her high pitch, beginning to walk out of the balcony.
“You still ask?”
The girls followed close as you walked towards Enid’s bed and took the eyeball that rested on top of the pillow. Wednesday picked up the globe from your palm and examined it, while Enid watched over her shoulder in disgust. However unviable, the ominous orb seemed to scrutinize them in return.
“I’d recognize this judgemental, beady blue-eye stare anywhere.” Wednesday announced.
“Where did it come from?” Rather than answering your question, she started pacing towards the other side of the room. When you glanced at your chatterbox of a friend, however, she was too stunned to offer any commentary as she flopped down on the bed. Grabbing her uniform jacket, you threw it against her chest to pull her out of her trance before turning to see Wednesday staring at the window.
“A little birdie must have dropped it off.” Her response gave you nothing but a hunch that perhaps you weren’t hallucinating earlier, and you moved forward to assess the view, but Enid’s voice stopped you from questioning Wednesday any further.
“Um, guys…” She walked up to you with her cellphone in hand. “I think the stalker’s back, and they somehow have my cell number.”
The screen displayed text messages with a picture of Wednesday and the words ‘I see you, Wednesday. I will not be ignored.’ You couldn’t fight the amused grin that appeared on your face.
“Call that number back.” Enid followed Wednesday’s order and held the phone up after starting the call.
“Hey, it’s Donovan Galpin. Leave it at the beep.” Enid’s fearful eyes darted up, and you frowned at the sound of Galpin’s voice.
“Why is Galpin stalking you on my phone? And why were you at his house?” Wednesday snatched the device from her hands to inspect the texts.
“Why are you being stalked by the sheriff in the first place?” You turned to Wednesday. “I know it’s Galpin, but that’s too much even for him.”
“This isn’t Galpin. He was murdered last night. This must be his killer.”
“What?" Enid went pale. “Are you pranking me now?” Both you and Wednesday glared at her.
“How fresh was the body?” You couldn’t help asking, which earned you a similar death stare.
“Don’t get excited. Galpin’s off the menu.” You just rolled your eyes in response.
“Are you guys serious right now?” Enid huffed, walking up to Wednesday and grabbing her phone. “I can not believe it’s only day two of the school year and you already involved yourself in some grisly murder case.” She stomped her way towards her bed. “Maybe you’re cursed.” You raised an eyebrow and watched as she pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder, whereas you stepped back towards the darker side of the room. “I feel really bad about Galpin, but, honestly, I didn’t even know him that well, so if you could try and leave me out of this, that would be great! This is my fun and freedom era. I’ve sworn off all dead bodies this semester.”
“This is why you should stay in the dorm with Thing until I figure this out.” Wednesday appealed in a failed attempt to assert her dominance.
“You’re the one who’s being stalked by a killer.” Enid retorted. “I have sharp teeth and claws, remember? Also, I have my first driver’s ed lesson this afternoon.”
“You’re learning to drive?” You asked with an amused grin.
“Not all of us have chauffeurs.” Your face fell with a nod as she left the room. When your eyes drifted to Wednesday, she was clutching Galpin’s eyeball in her hand with eyes closed, but gave up in no time.
“Hey,” she stared at you from the corner of her eye. “I know you’re gonna tell Enid you’re fine if she asks, but she’s actually worried about you.”
“I am fine. Enid has nothing to worry about.” She looked away, and you leaned back against her desk for a few seconds before speaking up again.
“What happened in the vision?” You stepped closer, crossing your arms. “It’s related to Enid, right?”
“That’s on a need-to-know basis.” Her response made you sneer.
“Sure. — But what I already know is that you need Enid out of danger, and your abilities are failing you.” You said as you moved towards the door. “With one of those things, I can help.”
“I don’t need your help.” You could trace the irritation in her tone, which had been slowly becoming characteristic towards you.
“I’m not doing this for you.” You made your way to the door and pulled it open, but came to a halt under the threshold. “And by the way?” You turned your upper body to look at Wednesday, who just furrowed her brow in exchange. “Perhaps Enid is right about the curse. — I keep feeling a presence around here.”
Once there was an increased distance between the dorm and yourself, your stealthy hand made its way inside the bag you carried and revealed the object of your devilry. Codex Umbrarüm. A heavy tome that naturally fell open before your eyes.
“You can go now. She will be fine.” Morticia said while caressing Enid’s hair. Both you and the werewolf watched as Lurch placed Wednesday on the divan, and exchanged looks before motioning towards the door. “Not you, darling,” the woman placed a hand on your shoulder. “We have something to discuss.” You glanced at Enid before nodding at her request. “Lurch will escort you.” She smiled at your friend, who then turned to follow the morose butler in confusion.
“Come, sit.” You complied and sat beside Morticia on the couch. “Cookie?” She picked up a platter full of spiderweb biscuits. Your mouth watered at the sight of the jittersome spiders wandering over them.
“These are my favorites.” She smiled as you grabbed one. “Thank you.” You took a timid bite before glancing at Wednesday's lying form.
“Well,” Morticia set down the plate. “What a terrible scene you girls have witnessed…” You gulped and nodded in agreement.
“Does it happen often?” She shook her head with a sigh.
“It was only the first time… Hopefully.” You followed her gaze towards the opposite couch, being met with her eyes seconds later. “It is what comes after that worries me.” Her pale hand landed on top of yours. “That’s why you're here.”
“I'm not sure I follow, Mrs. Addams.” You mumbled before applying soft pressure to your lips with a black handkerchief.
“Has your mother ever told you about her closest friend during her time at Nevermore?” Morticia's mystifying stare made your brow furrow as you recalled past conversations with your mother. The matter of her roommate and confidant had arisen several times before, but your mother never gave you a proper explanation as to what had happened to her.
“Ophelia? She was a psychic as well...” Your statement evoked a wistful glint in her eyes.
“She was more than just a psychic. She was a Raven… She had darker, more powerful visions.” Morticia glanced at her daughter. “Like her niece.” You felt the air get caught in your throat.
“You're Ophelia's sister?” She nodded, and you blinked a few times.
“I have seen this before, dear. The black tears. That’s psychic exhaustion.” You bit your lower lip. It all resonated with the incident you had seen, yet you failed in predicting how you could be of use. “Your mother was far too young and adventurous to go against my sister’s impulses… I sense a different force within you.”
“I must admit, Mrs. Addams,” you let out a faint laugh. “During the few hours I have known your daughter, I have found it engaging to oppose her, but I’m not sure how I can prevent her from exploiting her own abilities.”
“Well… You can start by bringing me something Wednesday has been making very poor use of.”
It took you no time to realize it was a book of spells, but as you tried to decipher the scriptures, your experience with Latin proved itself useless amidst so many runes and sigils. Although it wasn’t hard to believe such knowledge could become destructive to Wednesday, you wanted to know for yourself what the book contained before delivering it to Morticia. That was when your mind wandered back to the one person you knew who had experience with witchcraft, and a very low tolerance for you. Clutching the book against your side, you looked up to the clock above the stairs and saw it was just time for the class you shared, outcast history.
As soon as you entered the classroom, you spotted the dark haired girl sitting in the last row to the right, clad in jewelry and a rather fitted version of the school uniform. Cordelia Blackwell. — One of the few, if not the only, witches attending Nevermore. Despite having ignored her existence during your last semester, you dumped the grimoire on top of her table and sat beside her in a brazen move. She slowly turned her head away from her mirror and stared you down before scoffing.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s something I want you to look at.” You lowered your voice as the teacher walked into the room.
“And why would I do that?”
“Trust me.” You slid the book across the table, and Cordelia peered at the cover. “You want to see this.”
“A Book of Shadows?” She muttered as she cast her mirror aside before beginning to flip through the pages.
“You must tell me what’s in it.” Your words made her eyes roll amidst reading.
“There are hundreds of spells here. What exactly do you want to know?”
“Anything that stands out.” You insisted. “Whatever you don’t see in your books.” She nodded with a sigh and started browsing the major entries on each page.
“Protection seals, transformation magic, summoning and possession… The raven’s curse..?”
“That.” You gestured towards the page she was about to turn. “Read that.”
“The watcher of shadows opens the eyes of the seer, revealing hidden fates and forgotten deeds...” Cordelia’s finger traced the ink as she translated the scriptures. “The raven carries secrets between worlds, its wings bearing messages of the unseen. Whoever commands the circle of spirits must understand the balance of night and flame, for knowledge without caution brings ruin… Does any of this make sense to you?” She turned to you with a tilt of her head.
“Just keep reading.” You urged, and she complied.
“What is revealed in the mirror belongs to neither the living nor the dead, but to the reflections of the hidden realm.” Cordelia’s brow furrowed, but she went on. “Beware the false light… For shadows often disguise the truth and mislead the unwary traveler.” With that, she became silent and focused on inspecting more pages.
“What else does it say?”
“Where did you get this?” She evaded your question while remaining engrossed with the passages.
“It’s a family relic.” You smacked the open book with your palm to get Cordelia to look up as you glared at her.
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” She narrowed her gaze, and you shrugged your shoulders.
“Last time I checked, you had to pair with Bianca to pass this subject.”
“I am futile, not stupid.” She closed the book with a scowl.
“Amazing bragging game.”
“Spill it, Mortelli.” Her jaw clenched as her fingers gripped the wooden table.
“It’s none of your business, Cordelia. Back off.” You reached forward, but she snatched the book before you could. “Give it back!” You protested as quietly as possible.
“Or what? You’re gonna kill me too?” She whispered back with a grin.
“Girls!” Mr. Akuji called the two of you out, and Cordelia was caught off guard in embarrassment, which gave you the chance to seize the grimoire from her hands. “Do I have to see you out of class?”
“It won't be necessary, sir.” You said as you stood up. With one last glance at the seething witch, you made your way towards the vacant seat in the front.
The sunlight had fleeted by the time you completed your task, and the dark woods served as solace to the irresolution you felt on your way out of the Rotwood Cottage. Whether Morticia was right or not, you had to convince yourself you were avoiding a bigger tragedy. If whatever harm brought upon Ophelia could have been diminished, you knew for a fact your mother would’ve taken the chance.
“Perhaps I should write her…” You mused as you pushed a few branches out of your way, letting the moon come into sight.
Yet when you stepped into the open field, you heard something move among the bushes. Coming to a halt, you tracked the sound of breathing and a faint heartbeat, but before you could hear anything else, the creature stepped out.
“What are you doing here?” You flinched at the monotonous voice you should be avoiding like the plague, which now held accusatory undertones.
“I could ask you the same.” You turned around with a grin. The grass crumpled beneath Wednesday’s shoes as she made her way towards you.
“I was running errands in town.” Her pointed stare suggested that was enough to get an explanation in return, but not without a scoff from your part.
“I was… hunting.” You rolled your eyes before noticing her eyebrow raise. “Deer. I was hunting deer.”
“If you say so.” She passed you by with a bump against your shoulder.
“What was your prey in town?” You spun on your heels to follow her.
“The remnants of my poor decisions.”
“I suppose there’s plenty.” Wednesday shot you a glare from the corner of her eye, that was suddenly replaced by a flying black arrow she dodged and came straight for you. Your reflex was to crouch and only look up once it had flown over your head. When Wednesday helped you up, you were standing face to face with your red-eyed raven.
“Cerise?” You gasped with excitement. But it seemed your pet did not share the feeling, for it flew towards the castle instead. “Where are you going?” You called out as you sprinted after it, leaving Wednesday no choice but to follow you.
“You have a raven for a pet?” She asked once you reached the halls and your steps slowed down.
“You have a problem with that?” You huffed as you rushed up the stairs, frowning at the sight of where said raven was headed.
“I respect that.” Her gaze followed your own. “But what does it want in my room?”
“We’ll find out.” You ran up to the dorm, and Cerise rose from the floor onto your forearm. Wednesday came up right behind you, opening the door to find an unusually dark and silent setting. That was until you walked further into the place and the sound of insistent knocks started coming from a trunk.
“Thing?” Wednesday bent to the ground beside it and removed the iron rod that blocked the opening, releasing a desperate hand that began rambling with its fingers. “Wait. Where’s Enid?” Whereas Thing tried to explain, Cerise descended towards a colorful purse that sat in the middle of the room, and you kneeled to grab a buzzing phone from within. You glanced at Wednesday before accepting the call.
“Do I have your attention now?” A robotic voice broke through, and she took the phone from your hands.
“Who are you, and where’s Enid?”
“The game has just begun. You have thirty minutes to find your werewolf friend, or I put her down.” You registered how Wednesday’s jaw clenched and her eyes meandered like a pendulum clock. “Involve anyone else, and game over.” The two of you exchanged a fugitive glance. “I’m watching.” Your heads shot toward the door when a note slipped under the crevice. “Tick tock, Miss Addams.”
As soon as the call was over, you picked up the card while Wednesday pulled the door open to find an empty hall, and slammed it with the same force.
“Did you hear anything?” She moved closer to examine the piece of paper in your hand.
“Yes, but we’ve gotta run. Whoever it was, they’re in a hurry.”
The two of you took hurried steps through the halls until you were outside the castle, where louder strides and heaving breaths filled the air before something overshadowed them.
“I’m losing track of them.” You told Wednesday, and you rushed towards the end of the staircase that led to the patio, but found an unwanted encounter heading your way when you turned the corner.
“Girls!” Ms. Capri beckoned. “What are you doing out here?”
“We’re looking for our friend.” Wednesday offered a dry reply.
“That’s a coincidence. I’ve been looking for you.” She gestured towards both of you. “I’m putting together an orchestra for the gala. I’d like you to play cello,” her gaze drifted from Wednesday to you. “And you, as I’ve been told, will do wonders with a piano.” You stared at her in vexation, and noticed Wednesday sending you an inquisitive look.
“That’s it.” You muttered to yourself as realization hit you. “Sorry, Miss Capri. We don’t have time for this right now.” You tugged Wednesday by the arm and started running.
“Slow down.” She demanded while pulling her hand back, to no avail.
“The card.” You ignored her. “It says Play Dead.” You turned a corner, making her stagger. “These aren’t just words.”
“They’re notes.” You said in unison as you came to a halt in front of the music room. When you turned, you could swear she had just witnessed a gruesome murder by the gleam you caught in her eyes. With a shove of the door, the two of you wasted no time in entering the room and looking for the keys to press.
“The heart is an organ.” Wednesday lifted the side of the card that displayed a black heart, and you moved to sit in front of the large organ against the wall. The moment you pressed the notes together, a passage opened behind the instrument and Wednesday made her way towards it. “Let’s go.”
“Wednesday?” You called out and she looked up from the small entrance in the wall. “They were very clear about not involving anyone else.”
“I play by my own rules.” She stated before crawling into the tunnel, and you followed after in defeat.
The dark way broadened and Wednesday turned on a lantern once you got up. Despite the scattered lighting, you had no trouble going about the single route, especially with your heightened senses. But it wasn’t your sight that worried you.
“They’re here.” Wednesday looked around after you whispered.
“Coordinates?”
“Southeast, a hundred meters.” You said before turning into a bat and flying towards the ceiling. Moments later, Wednesday turned around and caught sight of the lurker in a red cape, but her lantern faltered right away. When she revolved, the masked individual appeared in front of her only to leave their mask behind and vanish. Wednesday picked up the plastic piece and looked inside to find a message inscribed. Clock’s Ticking. You flew above Wednesday while she proceeded on track, stopping along with her in front of an elevator.
“This is Iago Tower.” She tossed the mask aside and entered the cabin. “Come on.” Both you and Thing followed through the grates. When you got to the tower, Wednesday opened the scissor gate and dashed for the stairs. “Enid!” Flying up to the gears on the ceiling, you caught sight of Enid and her romantic interest chained together on the floor.
“Wednesday!” She whipped her head around to look at her friend. “Oh, thank God! You need to get us out of this!” Wednesday looked up to see the assemblage of knives that served as a chandelier above them.
“Thing. Pick their locks.” Her right hand did as told and padded towards the two of them, but he crossed a line that fired several knives from the canopy.
“Thing, watch out!” As soon as Enid called out, Thing got trapped under a military fork. “Thing! You okay?” All of a sudden you felt the gears begin to move, and the set of knives started going down. “Wednesday? Where are you going?” Enid wailed upon hearing Wednesday’s piercing footsteps against the metal staircase.
When Wednesday stepped back onto the first floor, she was met with a typewriter fastened upon the larger gear. Nearing the machine, she was able to read the words on the paper attached to it.
“What don’t you see?”
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Enid thrashed around in panic.
“Poe, Dante…" Wednesday started looking around at the book piles. “Shelley, Dickens…”
“Wednesday, you need to hurry!” Enid’s shrieks were muffled in your ears as your infrared sight allowed you to spot an aditional figure stepping on the platform, which looked like the one of a small girl. You soared onto the descending roof structure, in case you needed to attack her in order to save them.
“Each stack is the collected work of a famous author.” Wednesday pondered on the riddle, whereas knives fell inches away from Enid’s feet.
“Wednesday!”
“Proust, Tolstoy…" Wednesday kneeled in front of the stacks. “The answer must be a book that’s missing.”
“I swear if I survive this I’m demanding a spa day!”
“Wells…” She picked up a small book. “Baby-Sitter’s Club?”
“Oh! How many are in that one?” Enid interjected.
“131.”
“Dammit! That’s all of them. Unless you’re counting the graphic novels—”
“Enough, Enid.” Wednesday snapped, going back to the previous stack. “But what you don’t see…” She then remembered the one book it didn’t contain. “Of course! The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells.”
“Hey!” You heard even more desperate squeals coming from Enid, and seeing how close the platform was getting to the ground was enough to send you hurtling in the stranger’s direction, who tried to hit you with her hands. “Wednesday! Time’s up!” From the top of the thrashing girl’s head, you were able to see the blades almost grazing their faces, while Wednesday rushed to the typewriter downstairs.
As Enid braced herself for her final moment, the typing sounds subsided and the gears suddenly came to a stop, before starting to pull the weapons back up.
“Wednesday, you did it!” At the sound of that, you flew away from your target, turning back into human to see Wednesday step onto the platform and release Thing from underneath the war fork.
“Who’s there?” She asked, and seconds later you witnessed a girl materialize out of thin air, covered in scratches and sporting a tangled mass of red hair. Despite her condition, she displayed an unsettling smile along with glimmering eyes, which earned a fair share of stares.
“Happy Prank Day, Wednesday.”
“My crazed stalker is an invisible thirteen-year-old?” Wednesday spat. In response, the girl just yanked out a keychain and tossed it toward Enid, but you caught it mid-air. Ignoring her riled glare, you wasted no time unchaining your friend.
“We haven’t been properly introduced.” She curtsied, and you couldn’t hold back a snort as you helped Enid up. “I’m Agnes DeMille, your number one superfan.” Wednesday closed her eyes with a deep breath.
“You don’t seriously expect me to believe you pulled off this elaborate prank solo.”
“I had a little help from some DaVincis.” A mischievous grin appeared on her lips. “After I blackmailed them with incriminating Snapchat pics. Perks of being invisible.” Wednesday shot her a withering look. “I just asked myself, W-W-W… D.” She glanced at Enid. “What would Wednesday do?”
“That’s my line, you little psycho!” Enid jolted forward, but you held her back.
“I knew if I came up with the most twisted game, I’d get your attention.” Her overexcitiment faltered as her eyes drifted your way. “Everything would’ve been perfect, but of course your little bat friend had to intrude.” You let out an amused huff. “Still, I hope it’s lived up to your exacting standards.” A wishful tone returned to her voice. “Admit it. You’re a little impressed.”
“I can’t believe we were almost perforated by your fangirl mini-me.” Enid whipped out her claws. “Why don’t I return the favor?” She stomped her way towards Agnes, and this time Bruno assisted in barring her attack.
“Stop. She’s been scratched enough.” You reassured Enid with a hint of mockery in your voice.
“Yeah. I might get rabies.” She looked at you with disdain before turning to Enid. “But I did get you some alone time with the pack hottie. You’re welcome.”
“You almost burned my novel at the Founder’s Pyre.” Wednesday strode up to her.
“That was just an appetizer. This was the main course.”
“Then why kill Galpin and place his eyeball on Enid’s cushion?”
“I didn’t kill Galpin… I wanted to become your friend. Not your next murder case.” Agnes took a cellphone out of her pocket. “Took this as a… Souvenir.” She handed the device to Wednesday. “I already scrolled through his texts. And his e-mails…”
“So if you didn’t kill him, then who did?”
“I can help you find out.” Her smile grew wider. “I already have a few guesses.” She eyed you up and down, making you frown.
“What the hell are you on?” You blurted out, and Enid backed you up, turning to Wednesday.
“You can not possibly believe that obsessive looney.”
“We’ll talk about this later.” Wednesday stated before making her way to the elevator. The three of you followed, after one last glance at the infamous snooper.
“Only Wednesday Addams could have multiple stalkers.” Enid grumbled under her breath.
“Room for one more?” Agnes approached the cabin with a smile.
“Wannabes take the stairs.” Enid shut the scissor gate in her face.
On the path back to the dorms, Enid and Bruno became so engrossed in their conversation they stayed behind, leaving you and Wednesday to walk together to Ophelia Hall.
“Still think I’m your stalker?” You broke the silence at once, yet neither of you tore your gaze from the empty corridor ahead.
“You might not be the stalker, but it seems there are other things leading up to you.”
“Such as?”
“Your bird.” Your eyes rolled out of instinct.
“I thought you respected that.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not part of the evidence.”
“Evidence of what crime, exactly?” You faced her. “Galpin's murder?”
“Is there a checklist?” She cast you a sidelong glance.
“Of slander, perhaps. I appreciate the reputation, but I wouldn't waste my first offense on someone as worthless as Galpin.”
“Maybe because it wasn’t your first offense.” She beat you in turning a corner, so you rushed to her side once again.
“Did Officer DeMille provide the intel?” You tilted your head with a raised brow. “You shouldn't trust that girl with an investigation. She’s proved herself unstable enough.”
“I won’t rely on the judgement of a prepubescent fanatic, but her abilities might come in handy.”
“Better exploit her gift instead.” You picked up speed, surpassing her.
“What do you mean by that?” Wednesday took larger steps to catch up to you.
“You're smart. You’ll get it.” You stopped at the bifurcation of stairs that led to each of your dorms, and she mirrored your action. “We’re both talking about things we don't know. Yet it seems I am the only one sensible of the fact we care about the same thing: protecting Enid — and that alone is enough for me to trust you.” You walked towards the threshold on the left, stopping underneath to look at her. “But go ahead and dig up everything about me. You might find some dead bodies.” With that, you vanished into the alcove.
Going against her own principles, Wednesday kept ruminating on the words you had said to her, but she told herself it was solely out of rage. To her contentment, however, there was no one else around to taunt her except for Thing, and the echoes of her paranoia. That was until she remembered the present she had gotten him, and how she had completely missed the timing to bestow it. Reluctantly, she picked up the tiny box from the drawer and walked towards the chest he inhabited, kneeling before it and knocking, with scattered blinks of worrisome defeat. Seconds later, Thing emerged from his enclosure, waiting for an explanation.
“I forgot your birthday. And that’s inexcusable.” Thing watched with guarded curiosity. “I hope this makes up for my memory lapse.” Wednesday held up the box and opened it. “It’s an antique thumbscrew.” She placed the box in front of him. “Napoleonic era.” Thing grazed the artifact with his fingertips. “Designed by Anatole Deibler, France’s most notorious torturer.” She pressed her thumbs together and outstretched her hands. “I’m willing to be your first victim.” Yet her attempt to cheer him up was fruitless, and Thing expressed his own internal turmoil instead. “I’m concerned about Enid too.” Wednesday’s face fell in the slightest. “Unmasking my flame-haired stalker was an unwelcome distraction…” Her energy then changed into one of reassurance for his sake. “If I’m able to regain my psychic ability, I think I’ll be able to save Enid and figure out who killed Galpin and Bradbury.” She stood up and made her way towards her desk. “Let’s take another look at Goody’s book.” Thing panicked at her words. “Did you find any answers in there?”
Wednesday opened the top drawer only to find that it was empty, turning to Thing right away.
“Where is it?” Her expression became grave as she approached the poor hand that tried to explain the unfortunate situation they found themselves in. “My mother took my book? How did she do that?” Wednesday frowned, but any other thoughts she could have on the matter were disturbed when Thing pointed at the window. Pushing the glass open, she walked out onto the balcony and caught sight of a raven on the edge, but it flew away before she could take action. Watching the black bird soar into the sky, Wednesday couldn’t help feeling like she was falling behind and needed to step up her game. With both her abilities and Goody’s book gone, it became an even harder quest, but one only a twisted mind like hers could solve. And now she had one or two similar pawns in her hand.
summary: after a year in exile, you return to nevermore — and meet its new dark star.
word count: 4k
warnings : fem reader, implied latina; mentions of violence, dark themes ahead.
“Ms. Mortelli!”
You heard the glamorous voice of Larissa Weems commemorate your entrance. You beheld her elegant bearing, and the smile she flaunted like a prized possession. All of those things seemed more real than ever before your eyes until it all came crashing into a ludicrous parade of derangement. Her voice turned into a collection of queasy words coming out of an even more nauseating mouth. The man dared flash his teeth at you.
“Where’s Principal Weems?” You took less than two steps further into his room before asking, yet even your straightforwardness was not enough to shake his superficial joy.
“Well… Let’s say a lot has happened since your departure.” Much like him, your parents seemed to ignore your distress and encouraged you to move towards the chairs. Your mother mimicked the impostor’s smile, whereas your father remained somber.
Principal B. Dort, you read on the desk nameplate.
“We hadn’t told her yet…” Her lighthearted tone showcased the indifference only a vampire could have towards death.
“That’s okay! Weems is in a better place now!” His smile grew wider somehow as he waited for a reaction, getting nothing more than half a smile from your mother. “Don’t worry! You’ll love Nevermore’s new spirit!” You stared at your father in disbelief, and he couldn't help but smirk. “My name is Barry Dort. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The new principal went for a handshake, but pulled his hand back after he met your narrow gaze. “So!” He clapped his hands together instead. “I know she’ll make good friends here! And reunite with old ones,” he directed his speech to your parents. “You’ll have nothing to worry about. The past is in the past! I’m sure our Outcast family will give your daughter all the support she needs.— Oh! Would you like a sticker?” He turned back to you, taking a sticker out of his jacket pocket that read Outcast Pride.
“Don’t offer me anything that isn’t a sacrifice.” The answer you thought would leave him stunned made him chuckle instead, to which you reacted with a furrowed brow.
“See? I know just who you’ll be friends with! Now, off you go! The Quad is buzzing with new Outcast energy!”
“You take pleasure in my misery, don’t you?” You let out once the three of you exited the office.
“On the contrary, my little vulture. I think you will be the one to inflict misery upon this school.” Your father said while giving your back a gentle pat.
“You know that's not how it usually goes.”
“Please, you two. We all know this school has enough misfortune as it is.”
You proceeded along the route to Ophelia Hall, hoping your belongings remained untouched and ignoring the repercussions of your family down the corridors. The students seemed more scandalised by your mother's everlasting youth and inventive goth fashion, rather than your father's menacing stare. She waved at the teenagers with a smile, making them go quiet.
“Ever the petrifying beauty!” Your father quipped as usual, and you just picked up speed towards the dorms to avoid further mortification.
Entering your old room was a bittersweet journey. Everything was exactly where it used to be — the dusty coffin by the wall, the desk near the curtain-covered stained glass, and even your old record player. But all your eyes could focus on was the empty bed on the other side.
“It looks exactly like the first time!” Your mother’s voice brought you out of your trance, and you watched as her platform boots tapped against the wooden floor while she revisited the place. Your father placed your suitcases on the floor and went straight for the record player, examining his old possession. “How does it feel to be back?” You set down your guitar case with a sigh before answering.
“I don’t know.” You trailed off as you looked around. “I thought I—”
“Camilla?” A feminine voice down the hall cut off your words. “Is that you?” The voice became louder, and a lean figure in a black dress appeared by the door.
“Morticia!” Your mother walked up to the elegant woman and embraced her. “It’s been so long! What are you doing here?”
“Gomez and I were just escorting our son, Pugsley, to his dorm. But you know I couldn’t help paying a visit to our dear Ophelia Hall.”
“I most certainly do!” Your mother agreed with a chuckle.
"And how lucky are we to have both our daughters living here?” Morticia made her way towards you, lifting a slender hand to caress your face with a smile. “Daunting.” You tried to fight a smile of your own.
“I didn’t know your daughter attended Nevermore.” Morticia turned her gaze back to your mother, slowly letting go of you.
“It was truly our last resort. However, as I predicted, it has turned out to be the best option for our Wednesday... Most of the time. — Either way, our girls are bound to meet soon. I’m sure they’ll be great friends.”
Once your parents were gone, and your trunks unpacked, you took a walk around the school and found not much had changed from the last time you saw it — nothing other than some missing people, and many unfamiliar faces. That was until you reached the infamous meeting spot for teenage beasts, also known as the Quad. Despite your reluctance to be there, the memories came crashing like waves upon you, and so did the voices.
“She’s back!” Several students whispered as you made your way through the common area.
“Is that really her?”
You pretended to focus on the path before you, but a part of you wanted to sneer and answer the people who dared talk behind your back. Fortunately, an old friend found you before you had the chance to do so.
“Oh-Em-Gee! I waited so long for this moment!” Enid ran up to you and jumped into your arms, forcing you to take a step back and breathe out your first laugh that day. The werewolf let go as fast as she appeared and began rambling like her life depended on it. “I’m so happy to see you! I have so much gossip to fill you in on! — And I’m sorry you’re not getting your major comeback! I swear I tried telling everyone that the O.G. Goth Girl was coming back, but something huge stole the show! Speaking of that—” Although you found it amusing, you had to interrupt Enid by grabbing her arms.
“Slow down, Enid. We’ll get to all of that. — But what do you mean something else stole the show? Everyone’s talking about me.” You motioned towards a few groups of kids around the Quad.
“Uh…” Enid pursed her lips, not knowing how to break it to you. “They are kinda talking about my roommate…”
“Oh.” You exhaled, with a raise of your brow. “You finally got a roommate?” Your question almost made Enid jump.
“Yes! She’s so cool! But so scary… I’m used to it though!” Enid shrugged her shoulders. “I think you’re either gonna love her, or hate her. You both have the tragic goth girl thing going on,” she gestured towards your burgundy shirt and dark bootcut pants. “Just… in different ways.” You acknowledged her bullet-train of thought with a curt, breathy laugh, but before you could say something in return, she found something else to add. “Look! There she is! — Wednesday!”
You turned to look at the direction Enid pointed out, spotting the dark cloud she told you about in no time. She was the only student apart from you that wasn’t wearing Nevermore’s signature purple, but her choice of wardrobe was even more striking. Her long overcoat and pigtails moved with the same methodical rhythm as she took her steps closer towards the two of you, with an alarmed death stare that seemed permanent.
“Who’s that?” She asked as soon as her heavy shoes came to a stop in front of you, not hesitating on eyeing you up and down.
“That’s my vampire friend I told you about!” Enid was quick to step forward and introduce you, hugging your side with an excited grin. “She’s finally back!”
“It’s intriguing to meet the one who prepared Enid for my arrival.” Your lips turned into a mild smirk as you tried to free yourself from Enid’s embrace.
“I tried my best.”
“You did a terrible job.” Wednesday answered even more bluntly, and you glared at Enid, finally letting go of her.
“Well, she’s a terrible learner.” Wednesday only raised an eyebrow at that.
“Hey!” Enid whined. “Don’t be mean! Wednesday’s already taking care of that.” She turned her sulking stare from you to her roommate, and you followed.
“So you’re the one who stole the attention from my return to Nevermore.”
“You can have it back. I have no desire for frivolous renown.”
“I thank you, actually. And I can’t wait to find out what kind of bloody murder you’ve committed.”
“Actually—” Enid raised her hand to explain, but was cut short by a mere head tilt from the other girl, who then drifted her eyes towards you.
“You haven’t heard?” Her monotonous tone gained a barely perceptible pitch change. You nodded, knowing exactly what she meant; you weren’t in touch with the breaking news in Jericho.
“I wasn’t living around here, and my family communicates only by letter. Not that I wanted to hear anything about this town either way.”
“Man, that was the hardest part! Do you know how hard it was waiting for days to get a reply?” Enid complained while grabbing your arm and beginning to walk with you, assuming Wednesday would follow. “Oh! By the way, how was your country? Tell me all about it! Were there any cute boys?”
Wednesday, however, deviated from your route once she saw her parents talking to Principal Dort, so Enid and you spent the rest of the day catching up in their dorm. The drastic change to the other side of the room fascinated you, and she filled you in briefly on her counterpart’s habits before moving on to all the other episodes of the past semesters. By the time you ran out of gossip, as well as snacks, it was already dark outside. Upon realizing that, Enid told you she was going to look for her friend, which you supposed would be her roommate, who still hadn’t turned back to the dorm.
As your favorite time of the day arrived and people started retreating to their rooms, you figured you would explore Nevermore during the dark, just like you used to do. Once you exited Ophelia Hall, you took your time analysing the portraits on the walls until you reached the one you were looking for, and lifted it to see what was on the back of the frame. It was still there — the moving bat, drawn by Xavier. You smiled, wondering when you would see him again; he had been a good friend of yours until he began his relationship with Bianca. With a sigh, you let the frame hit the wall and resumed walking the path towards your next stop, the library.
Despite the long walk, it was a pleasant moment. The only sounds that reached your ears were the swirling current of wind coming out the distant window and the tapping of your boots against the stone floor. It grounded you, and made you come to terms with the fact that you were indeed back, which might just have its bright sides. But just as you were about to get a hold of the heavy door, you began to hear music in the distance. You bit your lower lip as your hand fell back to your side and contemplated whether it was suitable for a vampire to be so inquisitive. Ultimately, you let mischief take the win.
Reconstructing your previous steps, you turned right and made your way to the music room. As you drew closer, the symphony became more harrowing, and it almost made you feel like you had a pulse, bounding out of fear. You grasped the handle and opened the door in anticipation, and as the music went on, you walked further into the dark room to catch a glimpse of the player. Your eyes widened at the sight of Wednesday, slouched over a cello and striking the chords with abrasive pressure. You couldn’t help but feel lured by her moves, yet guilty for seeing her in such a raw disposition — in which she was so disarmed by her absorption to the point of only stopping when her fingers lapped against the strings.
“That was excruciating.” You said as you moved closer, making Wednesday turn her head up on the spot and stare at you with wide eyes.
“You.” She noted in disdain, losing her astonished demeanor within seconds before staring away from you with a subtle quiver of her lower lip. “My hand’s a little stiff…” You frowned at the answer, but mostly at her yielding stare.
“It was a compliment. That’s just the kind of music I enjoy.” You spoke in a somewhat serious tone, but tried to approach her with ease. Her eyes darted back to you as you pushed yourself up to sit on top of the teacher’s desk.
“I’m not trying to please anyone. I play for my own fulfillment.”
“You don’t look like the most fulfilled by your music.” You could see how wrong this could go, but you enjoyed the thrill of testing one’s limits; Wednesday, in special, looked like she was on the verge of hers.
“What do you know about music, anyway? Or fulfillment, for that matter. Do they offer pig’s blood at the cafeteria?”
“Argumentum ad hominem.” You stated in flawless latin, and her brow furrowed. “I expected more from you.” You were, in fact, expecting her next move, but it seemed exposing her faux pas was enough to get a reaction that defyed predictions. Wednesday just hit her Doc Martens against the floor with a loud thud as she got up, and left the room, carrying her cello. You rotated your torso and watched her go in amusement, declaring your first nightly adventure as prosperous.
Wednesday barged into her shared room, not even caring that Enid’s guests were still around and making a bee line towards her desk. Enid’s expression turned into one of worry and she got up straightaway, gesturing to the door.
“Everyone out!” Her friends huffed at the sight of her roommate, but vanished in no time.
Less than a second after closing the door, Enid was standing beside the typewriter.
“What happened, Wednesday? Does this have to do with that stalker? Please, tell me everything’s alright! It’s just the first day of school!” Wednesday closed her eyes briefly while gripping the wooden table in front of her.
“Be quiet. Nothing’s happened.”
“You don’t look like nothing’s happened. You look like a lot has happened.” Enid rambled. “You look… terrifying. Even to me.” She grimaced, taking a step back.
“I said everything’s fine, Enid.” That made Enid go quiet and move to her bed with a sullen look. Wednesday, however, kept staring at the window motionless for about ten minutes before finally speaking up.
“Your friend.” The werewolf let out a sigh of relief after having watched her in concern the whole time. “Why did she leave Nevermore?”
“Well, nobody really knows the actual reason,” Enid began while sitting up. “But when her roommate died… People started talking… So her family fled the country.” Wednesday turned her head at last to stare at the line dividing the room, and it was clear by the look in her eyes that her mind was racing with thoughts; there was a saddistic glint in them that startled Enid even more.
“Did she do it?”
“Of course not!” Enid protested, moving to stand on her knees. “I know she would never do that!”
“Great. Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.” Wednesday turned back to her desk, keen on having yet another mystery to solve.
The next day, you only caught a glance of the arrangments for the Founder’s Pyre from your balcony, as you preferred to wait inside until it was time to face the student body. When the sun went down, you got dressed in the uniform that was delievered that morning and reluctantly came out of your room.
The setting of the event wasn’t as bad as you expected, the Da Vinci’s had done a fine job on their phoenix and the lighting made things feel rather pleasant. The one sign of chaos that added up to it was the muffled sound only you could hear amidst the noise: Wednesday and Enid rushing through the crowd and towards the pyre. You began making your way through the crowd in the same direction.
Once Wednesday got to the pyre, several people bumped into her and she felt something being stuck inside her pocket, but when she reached for it, she cut her hand — grabbing it with more caution, she found it was a note wrapped in razor blades. She unfolded the piece of paper and read the words out loud.
“If you don’t want your novel to go up in smoke, meet me under the pyre. P.S. I found a few more typos.”
Wednesday didn’t think twice before moving to the back of the pyre nor discarding a few wood log pieces. And when you got there, she was already crawling inside it while Enid called out her name. Since the ceremony had just started, you believed Wednesday would have enough time and stood back, yet all of a sudden Principal Dort lighted up the wooden phoenix and you panicked.
“Wednesday! I’m getting help!” Enid shouted one last time before sprinting to the stage.
Seeing no alternative, you ran towards the fire and turned into a bat. Once you flew between the sticks, you spotted the pile of paper she was looking for and dashed against it, making it fall on the ground in front of her. Wednesday looked up and widened her eyes at you, but wasted no time in grabbing her manuscript and beginning to crawl out of the fire.
“We need to put out the bonfire!” Enid yelled as soon as she broke through the audience. “Principal Dort! Wednesday is trapped under the pyre.”
You, on the other hand, got stuck inbetween the contorting branches of the bird’s tail. You thought you wouldn’t be able to come out, but as the phoenix rose to the sky and its tail broke free from the rest of the pyre you were able to release yourself and fly away. You hovered above the herd of students and only came down when you found Wednesday making way through the sea of people, turning back into human and walking towards the center of the field.
“Here she is! Right on cue!” Principal Dort celebrated as she turned up, covered in ashes, much like you were. “Our student of honor, Wednesday Addams!” Everyone began to clap at his announcement, while you found all of that rather odd and moved to the front with a frown. “None of us would be here today without your bravery.” You proceeded to stand beside Wednesday and looked at her, seeing an expression of equal consternation on her face. “Wednesday, would you help me unveil something very special?” Dort said with enthusiasm before skipping towards a covered painting. “I had this commissioned to commemorate how you and your ragtag group of Nevermore buddies saved our school!”
He pulled the black veil that concealed the painting, displaying the disturbing image of Wednesday smiling and wielding a sword in front of Bianca, Enid and Eugene. Everyone clapped and cheered, except for Wednesday and you, who stared at the picture in bewilderment.
“Could you give us a few words of inspiration to launch us into the new era?” Dort prompted Wednesday to come forth with his fist up.
“Wednesday! Wednesday!” The students chanted, and Wednesday threw her smoky manuscript into your chest before stomping her way up the stage. She approached the painting with repulsion, then turned around and extended her hand to receive the microphone.
“Tonight…” She opened, as her state of contempt turned into a pondering face. “is our banquet of discontent. And we shall gladly feast on those who would subdue us.” She glanced around, studying the reactions, and the entire audience applauded. “Our fight is just beginning. And I’m ripping the band-aid off the scab of civility, and will not cease until our enemies have been vanquished!” You kept switching from looking at the people surrounding you and back at her, feeling mortified that she would say something like that.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” You let out a scoff as you turned to leave the ceremony, but Wednesday continued her speech.
“And by enemies,” you turned your head back to look at her as the rest of the students went silent and she lowered her fist. “I mean any imbecile stupid enough to cheer on some shallow, rabble-rousing diatribe like that.” Disappointment filled the faces in the audience and left yours as you turned to watch her again. “You thought I was your hero? I’m not. I always play dirty, and I never fight fair. The only side I’m on is my own. The only place I’ll lead you is off a cliff.” She then turned towards Dort. “So do not put me on a pedestal. Because I will burn it down.”
And just like that, Wednesday dropped the microphone and grabbed a torch from the stage to burn the dreadful painting inspired by her. She turned towards the horrofied spectators with the torch in hands and threw it on the floor, descending the stage and walking towards the heart of the commotion. You found her little circus far too amusing, until she grabbed your arm with force and pulled you through the swarm.
“Wednesday, stop!” You yelped as she pulled you into the castle and down the stairs at a brisk pace, letting go when the two of you reached the ground and turning to face you.
“I was doing fine on my own.”
“And I let you feel like you did it yourself.” You said before throwing the heavy paper stack into her arms. “If it took you any longer to get out of there, the ashes of your lousy portrait would’ve been replaced by your own.”
“That doesn’t concern you. Unless, of course, you were the one who wanted to meet under the pyre.” You furrowed your brow at her overconfident accusation, sneering afterwards.
“Right. I save you and get the blame for a stupid note.”
“I never mentioned any note.” Wednesday thought she had the final evidence.
“Because you were smart enough to read it out loud! Did you forget I’m a vampire?” When Wednesday opened her mouth to answer, Enid came running down the stairs.
“What the hell are you guys doing? — Wednesday! How could you do that?” Enid cried out and grabbed Wednesday by the arm, causing her to throw her head back and collapse, with black tears coming down her cheeks. You were quick enough to hold her and ease the impact, yet both you and Enid were filled with equal desperation as you placed her unconscious body on the floor and tried to wake her up.
“Wednesday!” Enid called out, just for her to gasp seconds later and begin to convulse. You stood up right away in panic.
“I’ll get her mother.” You reassured your friend before speeding back towards the field, but not even you knew for certain if things would turn out right.
Even though you saw Wednesday in that state only for a matter of seconds, that memory would stay with you for all of the hundreds years you were bound to live, just as the fragments of your past that you tried to forget. Leaving Nevermore was not an easy decision, and it seemed like returning was an even worse one.
You should write the most niche, indulgent fiction that appeals to you specifically, because it will be much more artistically authentic and valuable than corporate slop that has been focus tested to death to appeal to the widest audience possible.
Write for yourself and you will always be making authentic art that has an uncompromised vision, and you will gain an audience that appreciates that.
summary: you venture into the dragonpit with aemond.
pairing: aemond x reader.
word count: 3.2k
warnings : no usage of y/n; violence, canon typical incest.
ㅤOn the weeks following Ser Harwin's exile, you had learned to deal with his absence, spending most of your time with Aemond or Helaena. You had grown closer to the boy, and began spending every night with him in the library. During his time in the training yard, you basked in the opportunity to take more bugs to his sister and play with her. Sometimes, you even thought Helaena liked you as well.
ㅤThe same could not be said of her mother. It was an usual dilemma you dealt with, and that morning was no different as you decided to visit your grandsire's chambers. Once the King allowed your entry, you walked inside with a smile, one that was returned by him, but despised by his spouse.
ㅤ"My Queen," you curtsied, to which the woman smiled bitterly in return.
ㅤ"Granddaughter!" Viserys exclaimed in joy. Taking that as an invitation to walk further inside, you moved to hug him over the arm of his chair.
ㅤ"Grandsire!" you said before pulling away.
ㅤ"To what do I owe this illustrious visit?"
ㅤ"I meant to give you this," you lifted your hand that carried a lavender flower. The King took it with a chuckle, while Alicent rolled her eyes at the back of the room.
ㅤ"Thank you, my dear," he caressed your hair, "Alicent, would you place it in a jar?"
ㅤYou glanced back at the woman in green to watch as she emerged from her trance and approached Viserys, taking the flower with her lips pursed.
ㅤ"Do you know what it means, grandsire? The lavender?" The sound of water being poured into the jar contrasted with the man's voice.
ㅤ"Well, not in the least. Enlighten me."
ㅤ"It means healing," your small hand pat his arm, while your eyes glanced over to the Queen ever so slightly.
ㅤ"An even better gift!" You gave him a hopeful smile upon his reaction, taking his hand and giving it a kiss after noticing through Alicent's everlasting stares that it was time you took your leave.
ㅤ"I've got training in the dragonpit. Thank you for your time, grandsire." He nodded with a smile of his own.
ㅤ"Ever so dutiful! Good training, my dear." With his permission, you left the two alone. At that moment only, his attention went back to Alicent, who leaned back against the small bookshelf, glaring at him. Knowing he couldn't ignore it for long, he sighed before asking. "What is it, Alicent?"
ㅤ"Do you not notice her slyness?"
ㅤ"She's a child. For Seven's sake, Alicent!"
ㅤ"Following her mother's schemes!" Alicent hit her palm against the wooden shelf.
ㅤ"And what schemes would those be?"
ㅤ"To secure her attempts to wed her daughter and Aegon! Why do you act like you cannot see that?"
ㅤ"Because that's ridiculous. My granddaughter was simply visiting me as she has always done."
ㅤ"She's seeking your approval, husband..." Alicent finished with a sigh, moving a hand to press against her temple.
ㅤ"Enough. I will hear no more of this. My daughter would do no such thing."
ㅤYou arrived running into the dragonpit, coming to stand beside Aemond as you caught your breath. Lucerys leaned his upper body forward to look at you by the other end of the line, a frown on his face.
ㅤ"I thought you weren't coming anymore."
ㅤ"Unfortunately, she did," Aegon added with an unamused expression as he watched Jacaerys with the dragon, hands clasped over his waist.
ㅤ"I was just busy with something," you answered your brother, not paying any mind to Aegon's remark. Aemond, on the other hand, glanced at you from the corner of his eye as you spoke, wondering what you had been doing. That was when you sneaked one of the hands that were behind your back into his, placing a small dragon's breath flower against his palm. He frowned at the foreign sensation, holding the flower and bringing it to his side to take a look at it. His lip tilted to the side and you smirked while keeping your eyes trained on the events in front of you. He quickly slipped the sprout inside his pocket and looked back up. Jacaerys had just grazed his hand over Vermax's face without protest, and you remembered why you had stopped going to the dragonpit after all. Vermax was also a dragon, but looked nothing like the creatures you enjoyed reading about.
ㅤ"Is that what you watch every day?" You whispered to Aemond.
ㅤ"It gets better with Aegon." His response caused you to giggle.
ㅤ"How come?"
ㅤ"Well, let's say the Keepers need to teach Sunfyre the Common Tongue." He whispered, and you covered your mouth to muffle your laughter.
ㅤ"What is the dragonless pair laughing at?" Aegon asked, a smug smile taking place at the expense of his own comment.
ㅤ"You," You replied with a shrug.
ㅤ"You think I'm funny?" He turned to you with his brow furrowed.
ㅤ"Quite a lot." You nodded.
ㅤ"Oh. You know what else I am? A dragon rider." Aemond took turns at staring between the two of you, growing apprehensive at the quarrel, and Lucerys started paying attention as the discussion turned louder.
ㅤ"Well, it's only fair. Imagine what would happen if you had to defend yourself with a sword." The boys laughed and you couldn't help the smirk on your lips as Aegon searched for an answer.
ㅤ"Prince Aegon!" A Dragonkeeper saved him the embarrassment as Jacaerys walked back towards the group of children and Aegon took his leave with heavy theatrical steps.
ㅤ"What happened?' Asked Jace with a grin.
ㅤ"Aegon lost to our sister. Again." Lucerys answered before chuckling and moving to cheer beside you. You chuckled at the jest while ruffling his hair. Even Aemond let out a small snicker, loosening up to the fact that someone else was the laughing-stock for once.
ㅤYou watched Aegon's training with Sunfyre all the way through, actually being a lot more interested than you could admit. Although Sunfyre and Aegon were already bonded, the Keepers still provided some lessons to ensure the rider’s safety with a young dragon. These lessons focused on commands and reinforcing what Aegon thought he already knew. Despite his arrogance, Sunfyre seemed to like him and progressively became familiar with his commands in the common tongue, something Aegon took advantage of.
ㅤ"Prince Aegon. That's enough." The Keeper reprimanded as Aegon kept ordering Sunfyre up, who was pulled back by the shackles.
ㅤ"Up, Sunfyre! Serve me!" The hard clinking of metal was heard.
ㅤ"This lesson is over!" Upon the Elder's command, the Dragonkeepers began taking Sunfyre away. Aegon huffed with a roll of his eyes before beginning to leave, the other children following. You and Aemond remained, but as he turned to leave, you grasped his hand.
ㅤ"Wait," you whispered, and he turned to face you with a frown. "Let's go see the dragons."
ㅤ"I'm not sure that's a good idea." He looked around, pursing his lips.
ㅤ"Kostilus, kepus!" The gentle tug to his hand and the High Valyrian sliding off your tongue were enough to get to him. With a sigh, he began following as you guided him down the incline. A faint smile pulled on his lips under the warm light of the torches illuminating your faces. Your steps echoed further inside the cave and Aemond moved closer to you upon the blurred sight of the enormous dragon in the dark distance. "Is that Dreamfyre?" You looked at him as you asked.
ㅤ"Yes. It is my sister's dragon." You nodded, and the two of you turned your attention towards the creature.
ㅤ"Do you ever wonder if there are other dragons here they don't tell us about?" Aemond let out a faint scoff.
ㅤ"There's the Pink Dread." You turned to him with a frown, but got your answer from his unamused expression.
ㅤ"Creative, at the least." You shrugged before pulling him with you.
ㅤ"Wait! That's too close!" He leaned backwards and his boots skidded against the dust, but you kept his balance. Looking up, he saw the beast shift its head, and his mouth dropped.
ㅤ"Shh," you began, before letting go of his hand. He watched in worry as you walked towards the dragon, whereas you kept a calm demeanor while bringing a hand up to touch the snout.
ㅤ"No! Come back!" He tried to call out as quietly as he could, yet Dreamfyre opened her eyes. You looked back at him in annoyance, when the blue animal lifted its head and knocked you onto the ground. Aemond gasped and motioned to step forward, but you were quick to turn around and crawl away, getting up and running towards him, who grabbed you by the hand. In a swift second, the two of you looked up to see fire coming up the dragon's throat before setting off to the exit. The heat wave reached your backs as you jumped through the dragonpit gates, leaving an exasperated Aemond resting his hands on his knees alongside you, who shook him by the shoulders.
ㅤ"That was amazing!" He looked up at you with wide eyes.
ㅤ"We almost got set on fire!" He shook his head while fixing his posture, taking a proper look at you.
ㅤ"And wasn't it fun?" Your relaxed laughter almost got the best of him, but he focused on the state of your face instead.
ㅤ"You've got ash on your face." He reached his thumb up to wipe away the ash from your cheek, turning your frown into a timid smile.
ㅤ"The septa will be furious," your embarrassment soon became amusement, making Aemond shake his head with a faint smile. That was when the sound of the Keepers returning became audible, urging you to run off towards the exit. Once outside, the two of you ran up to the remaining chariot, only to find an infuriated knight waiting for you.
ㅤ"Prince Aemond! What is this supposed to mean? You're now corrupting the Princess?"
ㅤ"Ser Arryk! It was my fault only," You began as you stepped closer to the man.
ㅤ"No. My apologies, Ser, I promise it won't happen again." Aemond intervened with his head hung low. Arryk let out a sigh before escorting you inside the chariot.
ㅤ"I'm very sorry, uncle. I truly am." You tried apologising once you sat face to face and the door was closed before you.
ㅤ"Don't be," He looked towards the side when a small grin formed on his lips. "It was fun." You smiled in return.
ㅤSepta Olaria pushed you through the doors of your chambers with a certain force, letting go of your arm before you could rub the reddened skin with a grin plastered on your face.
ㅤ"Do you find it funny, Princess?" The woman groaned. "To go about the castle looking like you just came out of the throat of a dragon?"
ㅤ"Actually,' the aggressive pull on your dress cut short your words, making you trip as the septa dragged you toward the tub.
ㅤ"Undress." You heaved a sigh, but undid the strings on your back and slipped out of the dress before stepping inside the tub. The Septa grabbed the washcloth and began scrubbing your soft skin. "People will talk."
ㅤ"About what?" You asked, staring at the water.
ㅤ"You did it again." Helaena let out as soon as he entered the room with his head hung low and sat beside her.
ㅤ"So what?" She ignored him, remaining focused on the spider in her hand.
ㅤ"She brought me this."
ㅤ"A spider?" He frowned towards the araneid. "Why would she do that? She shares no interest in such things…" His eyes scanned the place, full of bug viewing tables.
ㅤ"You underestimate them."
ㅤ"The bugs?" He shrugged while fidgeting with a shell on the ground.
ㅤ"Both." The shadow behind the balustrade remained still when Aemond stared at the darkness, although he could swear something moved.
ㅤ"About your devilries with the young prince. You sully yourself, ruin your mother’s attempts to secure a marriage." With each word came the scratching of the harsh flannel against the skin of your legs.
ㅤ"Is that you or the people talking?" You mumbled, only to feel a more abrasive pressure applied upon you.
ㅤ"Watch your tongue, princess," the woman tossed the cloth aside and began washing her hands. "No king will marry you that way."
ㅤ"I will be queen. I don’t need a king to marry me." You pulled your legs towards your body under the water, while the Septa grabbed the towels.
ㅤ"If only it were that simple." A bitter chuckle left her lips before she pulled you up by the arm and wiped your figure dry. You stared at her before being dragged out of the tub, clutching the cloth wrapped around your shoulders and shivering at the sudden change of temperature.
ㅤ"What does that mean?"
ㅤ"Are you that slow-witted?" Your brow furrowed and as you were about to talk back, your words were cut short by the chemise being thrown over your head. "You ought to wed Prince Aegon; that’s the most logical course of action." A turquoise dress followed after, and Olaria made sure to crush your bones when lacing its strings.
ㅤ"I wasn’t aware you were part of the King’s council, Septa Olaria." As soon as your mouth shut, the Septa turned you around and slapped you across the cheek.
ㅤThroughout supper, you had waited for someone to make a comment out of your reddened face, but it seemed the woman had measured her force just enough. Tired from the previous altercation, you made your way towards your favourite part of the day, the secret rendezvous with your uncle.
ㅤHe was already there when you got to the library’s last aisle, sat on one of the cushions the two of you had stacked weeks ago.
ㅤ"How do you get here so fast?" You walked towards the pile of pillows with a smirk, sitting beside him. He turned his face towards you and stared for a moment before allowing a faint grin to take place on his lips.
ㅤ"I’ve got my ways."
ㅤ"I see we’re full of secrets now." You let out a laugh and flopped down on the pillows, giving him the perfect angle to observe you.
ㅤ"You were quiet during supper." He turned his body in your direction, shoving his hand into the pocket of his vest.
ㅤ"Perhaps I should be quieter," you stared at the ceiling. "Would spare me some trouble."
ㅤ"No." He spoke quicker than intended. "I mean… it wouldn’t be you if you couldn’t misbehave." You turned your glare back at him with a squint, making his eyes widen and lip quiver, until he noticed the smirk you were holding in and relaxed into a chuckle. Looking down at his lap, he pulled his hand out of his pocket to reveal a bundled up cloth. "I saved you a tart." And you shot up at once.
ㅤ"Did you really?" He nodded and unwrapped the pastry as you approached him.
ㅤ"Do you still give yours to Luke?" You took the tart and gave it a bite before answering with a mouth full.
ㅤ"That bastard discovered our meetings!" Aemond frowned and shook his head, putting the cloth back into his pocket.
ㅤ"How did he?—It doesn’t matter. I’ll give you mine. And Helaena doesn’t like them, so mayhaps I could… What is it?'" His face became flushed after realizing you were grinning.
ㅤ"Nothing." With a shrug, you wiped your palms against your dress to get rid of the crumbs and crawled further back over the pillows, being followed by Aemond, who lied beside you. Both of you reposed in silence for a while before he broke you out of your trance.
ㅤ"Have you thought about earlier?" You let out a wondering hum. "At the dragonpit." He clarified.
ㅤ"Not really." He looked at you with his brow furrowed, but you kept your eyes trained on the roof.
ㅤ"Are you telling me having stood face to face with an actual dragon doesn’t take up a spot in your mind?" You released a faint chuckle and turned your gaze upon him.
ㅤ"There’s a lot worse."
ㅤ"What could be worse than being roasted by a dragon?" He grimaced as he spoke.
ㅤ"I shall not ruin your innocence."
ㅤ"What—"
ㅤ"Let us change subjects—" you interrupted with a smile, "How upset was your brother after today’s training?" He pressed his lips together before giving into the new conversation.
ㅤ"Not more than other times you’ve quarreled, but he was certainly wrathful. I believe the maid suffered at your expense." He chuckled after hearing the sound of your laughter. "He also complained about it to our mother. She wasn’t pleased."
ㅤ"Is that why she doesn’t like me? Because of Aegon?"
ㅤ"My mother doesn’t like you?" He frowned.
ㅤ"She despises me." You said with a scoff.
ㅤ"That’s highly unlikely."
ㅤ"So you don’t believe me?"
ㅤ"That’s not it. It’s simply… My mother wouldn’t hate you, you’re a child." You turned to lie on your side, making him stare at you from the corner of his eye.
ㅤ"Then why did she send your brother away?" He averted his gaze.
ㅤ"She.. She says ‘twas for the best."
ㅤ"Do you miss him?" He moved to rest on his side as well.
ㅤ"Would you miss Luke?" You tilted your head at his question, squinting your eyes.
ㅤ"Of course, I would! What does that have to do with anything?"
ㅤ"Well, Daeron was just as small... But I cannot help feeling like he would turn against me as well… Had he stayed long enough."
ㅤ"He wouldn’t have, Aemond. You could have guided him towards something better."
ㅤ"Who am I to inspire anyone? Even your little brother makes fun of me. Mine would be no different. Seven hells, even he has a dragon." That made you sit up straightaway.
ㅤ"That is precisely why all of them could learn from you. Having an egg hatch for you doesn’t mean you’re worthy, being a Targaryen does. Yet they consider themselves too worthy already, thus why they don’t work hard on anything." Aemond sighed while contemplating your point of view.
ㅤ"Mayhaps you’re right… Aegon and Jace must know three words in the mother tongue." You chuckled at that, lying back down. A comfortable silence filled the room as you lied together. You closed your eyes and let your mind wander places he wasn’t aware of, while he turned his head ever so slightly to take in the sight of you.
ㅤ"That word… Why did you call your brother that?"
ㅤ"What word?' You asked before opening your eyes and looking at him, who was hesitant to say it out loud.
ㅤ"Bastard." He whispered.
ㅤ"Isn’t that what we are? Mother doesn’t want us to say it. She believes that if we say it out loud, it becomes real." Your gaze returned to the ceiling. "I hate being a lie."
ㅤ"You’re very true to me." You couldn’t fight back a smile as your eyes landed once again on his face.
ㅤ"Once I bear the Targaryen name and rule the Seven Kingdoms, I’ll grant you the largest dragon for that." He chuckled at your jest while shaking his head a few times. "I mean it!" You nudged his shoulder with a chuckle of your own.
ㅤ"A questionable decree, I’m afraid."
ㅤ"Do you question your Queen?" You sat up with your brow furrowed, moving closer to him. He shook his head, holding back a laugh, but it was too late before you started tickling him.
ㅤ"Absolutely not! Forgive me, my Queen!" Although the two of you were laughing, you put an end to his suffering, but not without a last remark.
ㅤ"You’re lucky I’m merciful." You said as he attempted to catch his breath.
summary: you confront aegon in a sword fight, and it leads to severe consequences.
pairing: aemond x reader.
word count: 3.6k
warnings : no usage of y/n; violence, angst, canon typical incest.
ㅤKing Viserys watched down on the training yard as the young princes trained their sparring. His Hand, Lyonel Strong, stood beside him.
ㅤ"This is the stuff, Lyonel. Lads that learn together, train together... knock each other down, pick each other up. They will certainly form a lifelong bond, wouldn't you agree?" The King spoke with joy and pride, whereas the man beside him remained unsure.
ㅤ"That is the hope, Your Grace."
ㅤCriston Cole kept on instructing the princes, while you walked into the training yard and moved to pick up a sword of your own. He noticed you, and Aegon shot you a vicious look, to which you reacted in a disguted way, in contrast to the stern look Harwin gave him as he arrived just a few steps behind you. "Have you come to train, little niece?"
ㅤ"Aegon." Criston caught his attention while making his way towards the two, glaring at Harwin. "You know the rules, princess. No girls allowed." He made sure to pronounce the word 'princess' with venom.
ㅤ"Then what is Aegon doing here?" You retorted. Aegon's expression changed into one of fury. "Move aside and you shall see —" Criston began, walking a few steps back. You stepped back as well with an intrigued yet disturbed look. "You'll have a new opponent, My Lord of the Straw. Let's see if you can touch me. You and your brother." Aegon looked insulted by his challenge, but moved on to defend his wounded pride. His brother, who had been watching the whole thing, moved on forward as well. Ser Harwin smiled and reassured you with his eyes. You couldn't help a smirk yourself. Ser Criston fixed his gloves while looking up to the King, before starting the match with the princes. Both attempted to attack him, but he shut down their swords at the same time. "You're gonna have to do better than that." He dealt with the two with his eyes closed, only embarrassing the pair.
ㅤOnce it was over, Ser Harwin called out the other boys. "Weapons up, boys. Give your enemies no quarter." You, on the other hand, was on guard already and watched the situation with close attention. "It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston."
ㅤ"You question my method of instructions, Ser?"
ㅤ"I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils. Or to all of those willing to learn, for that matter." He looked at you, who gave him the slightest of smiles, thanking him internally.
ㅤ"Very well.— Princess, come here." Criston replied before walking up to where you stood and grabbing you violently by the left arm. "You spar with Aegon." You walked against your will, but with your head high. The blond boys laughed, knowing it would be easy to win against a girl. The King watched with an amazed laugh, before becoming confused about what was happening. "Eldest child against eldest child."
ㅤThe Hand of the King looked preoccupied, as Ser Harwin walked around the field.
ㅤ"It's hardly a fair match."
ㅤ"I know you've never seen true battle, Ser, but when steel is drawn," Aegon pushed your shoulder with a creepy smile on his face. You just stared at him, unbothered. "a fair match isn't something anyone should expect." You agreed with him, and the small nod you sent your father's way told him the same.
ㅤ"Blades up." You raised your wooden sword with a concentrated expression, your dark eyes straight onto your target. "Engage."
ㅤAegon yelled as he ran towards you and you quickly dodged him, swiftly moving to the left and hitting his sword. Attack. The sound of Ser Harwin's voice echoed inside your head. You kept him on the defensive side until the two of you moved further and further away from the center, where Aegon tried to push you against the ground. You only stepped backwards before running towards him and hitting against his sword with the strength of both your hands around the hilt. The sound of wood falling against the soil was the only thing that made Ser Harwin's heartbeat steady once more, as he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The shocked look on Aegon's face, and the angered one on Criston's was like a dream come true to you. And so, you smirked towards the Knight. Ser Harwin's deep proud stare cut like knives through the man's pride.
ㅤ"You!" Aegon grabbed the fallen sword and ran towards you, throwing it up to face your own in defense.
ㅤ"Close with her." Cole instructed. Both knights walking around you. "Press her backward! Close with her!" He locked your sword, to which you reacted with a spin, and attacked his left shoulder. "Stay on the attack! Use your feet!" Criston was angrier by the minute, his tone turning into a yell, as Aegon kicked you in the stomach, putting you down.
ㅤ"Don't let her get up." He said whilst fighting a smirk. Aegon hit his sword against yours as you crawled back against the clay. "Stay on the attack!"
ㅤ"Enough!" Ser Harwin yelled while taking a hold of Aegon from behind, hitting his own lifted sword against his back and throwing him to the side. Wrathful at the sudden stop, you shook the dust off your dress as you got up, still holding on to your sword, and Aegon's hysterical voice was all you could hear.
ㅤ"You dare put hands on me?"
ㅤ"Aegon!" His father reprimanded from above.
ㅤ"You forget yourself, Strong. That is the Prince." Criston intervened.
ㅤ"This is what you teach, Cole? Cruelty..." Harwin spoke while picking up the swords that were left on the ground, "to the weaker opponent?" Your eyes widened at that, and you jolted slightly, almost speaking up, but remained quiet.
ㅤ"Your interest in the princess's training is quite unusual, Commander." Harwin's head shot up at the remark, before he went back to picking up the makeshift weapons. "Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin... or a sister... or a daughter." Suddenly, he turned around and punched the fellow knight in the face. All children stepped back as he kept punching the man, throwing him backwards. "Ser Harwin, no!" You shouted, to no avail. He only stopped when the guards took him away, leaving Ser Criston on the ground with a bloodied face.
ㅤ"Say it again! — Say it again!" He yelled while trying to escape the guards.
ㅤ"Thought as much." Criston laughed before spitting blood onto the earth.
ㅤRhaenyra left her chambers the moment she had been informed about the incident at the yard. She lurked up the stairs in search of Harwin, leaning against the wall the moment she heard the inflamed voices.
ㅤ"Is that what this is about then? Your shame?"
ㅤ"Our shame, Harwin!" Lyonel shouted at his son. "Shame on the whole of House Strong!"
ㅤ"Because I laid my hands on that insufferable Cole? The son of a steward?"
ㅤ"He is a knight of the Kingsguard now! A defender of the crown!"
ㅤ"He assailed the Princess, the future heir to the throne!"
ㅤThe discussion grew heated as their voices canceled each other out and the sound of metal falling was heard, causing Rhaenyra to flinch.
ㅤ"You have laid us open to accusations of an uglier treachery."
ㅤ"And what treachery is that?"
ㅤ"Don't play the fool with me, boy... Your intimacy with the princess Rhaenyra is an offense that could mean exile and death. For you, for her, for the children!"
ㅤ"It is rumor. Only. Spun by the princess's rivals."
ㅤ"People have eyes, boy. Yet, His Grace, the King, it seems, will not accept what his eyes see. This flimsy shield alone stands between you and the headsman. The willful blindness of a father towards his child."
ㅤ"I wish my father affected a similar blindness."
ㅤ"Have I not? These many years? And yet today you publicly assaulted a knight of the Kingsguard in the defense of your..."
ㅤ"You have your honor, and I have mine."
ㅤEveryone had been startled by the events in the training yard, but all Aemond could think about was how fierce that girl had been while facing Aegon. How could she even fight like that? She was a girl! He had never seen his brother so worried as he was after that, trying to make sure everyone knew he won. That amusing memory passed through his mind as he wandered the corridors of the Keep, three books in his arms as he made his way towards the library. He also couldn't help but remember the weird atmosphere forged when you arrived the field, how your brothers suddenly stopped pestering him. Foolish. It was only natural, all of them were paying attention to the scene you caused. And what a scene, you thought by yourself inside the library before he entered. Your eyes were trained on the book in front of you, yet you couldn't read the words. You didn't have the chance to beat Aegon and were afraid of the repercussions your father would face. But none of that mattered now. With a loud sigh, you pushed the open book against the table, looking up. At the same time, the blond prince forced the heavy door open. Both of you looked surprised to see the other. You grabbed your book once more, fidgeting on your seat as he made his way towards the shelf in front of you with measured steps. His head was held low, but his eyes lingered on you, his lips pressing into a discouraged line. He noticed your new dress, along with your worried expression being masked. Finally reaching the tome collection, his gaze shifted to focus on putting away the books in their respective categories. You watched him without shame as he grew nervous while going through the other options of books to take with him next. He could picture the smirk on your face. That bast—
ㅤ"I never see you around here. You'd rather read in your chambers?" You couldn't imagine what that was like, with your need to be outside at all times. He turned around and looked at you as if he hadn't heard you. Were you really talking to him? You couldn't make fun of him out of that, you were in the same place as him.
ㅤ"I would. No chance of disturbance." He answered after the eternal seconds of agony. You thought he meant it as a hint to your unwanted presence, but couldn't care less.
ㅤ"I disagree," You laughed, mostly to yourself, upon the thought of your brothers. Your attention moved back towards your book as you flipped a page. He thought he recognised the images. Could it really be that you read about the same things he did? "No servants ever come here, either way. Although I do enjoy reading by the trees, as well."
ㅤHe didn't know what to say, but wanted to try, you seemed somewhat worthy. Moving closer to the table, Aemond caught a glimpse of the words on your book. Dragons. Vaghar.
ㅤ"Visenya was her first rider.. Did you know that?"
ㅤ"Really?" You asked with a certain amount of excitement to your tone, as if you didn't know that. "You've read this book?"
ㅤ"Four times..." He said in a mix of previous embarrassment and newfound pride over your interest. This was usually the part where he was made fun of. Instead, you smiled in surprise. You had only read it once.
ㅤRhaenyra tried to keep her mind away from the troubles surrounding her family while the members at the council discussed the Blackwood lands and their current predicament.
ㅤ"It is Lord Blackwood's contention, therefore, that the Brackens moved the boundary stones in the dead of the night and put their horses to graze in his field."
ㅤ"Why was this issue not brought before Lord Grover? Has he grown so feeble he cannot settle a quarrel over rocks?" Alicent asked with a distressed tone.
ㅤ"I've heard tale that Lord Grover's son now rules Riverrun in all but name."
ㅤ"We have left it undefended." Rhaenyra began, "There should have been fortifications built, watchtowers, a fleet of ships, a garrison of soldiers sent to hold our ground."
ㅤ"We cannot afford it." The Queen spat back, "Our coffers are great, but not infinite. We must consider the cost to our subjects."
ㅤ"The cost of war is greater. — But we have been lax and the old monster now lifts its head." Rhaenyra countered while fidgeting with the round stone of front of her.
ㅤ"Let us be finished." Alicent ended the discussion while getting up, urging the others to do the same.
ㅤ"Wait," Rhaenyra spoke up before everyone left "I wish to speak." And so the King commanded them to sit down once more whilst Rhaenyra stood up, remaining face to face with her childhood companion. An intimidating sensation creeping up her back. "I have felt the... strife... between our families of late, my Queen. And for any offense given by mine, I apologise. But we are one house. And long before that, we were friends..." Alicent stared at her in disbelief. Rhaenyra swallowed and went straight to the point. "My daughter will inherit the Iron Throne after me. I propose we betroth her to your son, Aegon. Ally ourselves... Once and for all. Let them rule together."
ㅤ"A most judicious proposition!" The King approved. The Queen snorted, shaking her head.
ㅤ"Additionally, if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, your son Aemond will have his choice of them, uh... A symbol of our goodwill."
ㅤ"Rhaenyra." Alicent glanced towards her chest as to signal something was off, when Rhaenyra looked down and realised there had been a certain leakage through her dress. Embarrassed, she placed her arm over it and sat back down.
ㅤ"My dear, a dragon's egg is a handsome gift." Viserys tried to walk around the situation.
ㅤ"The King and I thank you for your offer, and we will consider it duly."
ㅤYet the Queen considered it an insult, as if they were the desperate princess's last resort, assuming she would allow her son to mix with that kind. Viserys tried to convince her, but she had made up her mind.
ㅤDeep into the night, at Rhaenyra's chambers, she held baby Joffrey, while Jacaerys stood beside her and Lucerys remained on the opposite side. You stood in the middle, adrift and lost in your thoughts. Tears were rolling down your cheeks, but you did not say a word. You just watched as the man said goodbye to your brothers.
ㅤ"Be good to your mother, lads." He then glanced at you. His smile telling you were not a worry when it came to that matter. "I'll visit when I can," he said to Luke, before getting up and moving towards you. "But that may be some time." Looking into your eyes and wiping a few of your tears, he went on. "I will return. I promise." He caressed your cheek. You tried nodding for him between sobs. Harwin went over to Rhaenyra, kissing the baby's head with hesitation, "I'll be a stranger when we meet again." He gave her one last look before beginning to leave. "Princess." Grabbing his bag and sword, he finally walked through the door. Only to be followed by a weeping girl, who went after him towards the corridors.
ㅤ"No! Father, please don't go!" You cried out. Jacaerys looked up at his mother with a shocked expression, before running towards the exit.
ㅤ"Is Harwin Strong my father?" He asked once she came to stand beside him. Rhaenyra was at a loss for words. "Am I a bastard?" She looked around in apprehension before caressing his hair.
ㅤ"You are a Targaryen. That's all that matters."
ㅤDown the hall, you clung to Harwin's waist, crying like you never had before.
ㅤ"Please, don't go. I'm sorry!" Harwin clucthed his sword as he kept his serious demeanor from crumbling, his lip quivering ever so slightly. He sighed as he turned around and bent on one knee, his hand moving up to caress your face.
ㅤ"You have nothing to be sorry for, my little warrior. T'was no more than my fault."
ㅤ"I shouldn't have gone there. I know I'm not allowed to fight." You shook your head multiple times.
ㅤ"Never say that again. Do you hear me?" He held your chin so you could focus your stare on his eyes. Your breathing relaxed for a brief moment. "You'll keep on training. You'll beat both the princes and that stupid Knight one day, alright? And I will come back." You nodded, almost giggling during his speech.
ㅤ"I was going to beat Aegon today! Why did you stop him? Didn't you think I could do it?"
ㅤ"Just keeping you safe, lass." He chuckled before kissing your forehead. "I know you can do it. My strong girl." You sobbed while using the back of your hand to wipe your cheek. "I have to go now." He looked around before getting up, the sound of his clinking sword and your sobs filled the hall. It seemed as though the ground would crumble beneath your feet as you watched him leave. Something in the back of your mind told you you would never see him again.
ㅤThe lonely walk back to your mother's chambers was excruciating, but seeing Jacaerys mad at her was the last straw. Rhaenyra did nothing but offer her embrace after noticing you by the door, and you ran towards it, muffling the sound of your brother's angry voice as you gripped the material of your mother's dress and pressed your face against her body.
ㅤ"We will exchange letters by raven. Won't that be fun?" That made your throat clench and you fought the urge to gasp for air, tightening your grip on the silky gown. The long expected silence finally filled the room as you gave no reply. But Rhaenyra worried for her children, one infuriated and the other devastated. "Would you like to sleep here tonight?" She asked tenderly, looking at the boys while caressing her daughter's hair. Lucerys quickly nodded and the older boy followed with reluctance, wanting his mother's comfort despite his anger. You, however, desired nothing but to be alone. You began to shift and pull away from the hug.
ㅤ"Mother, may I go?" Your reddened eyes faced the ground as you used all your strength to let out those faint words. Rhaenyra nodded with a sad smile and gave you a kiss on the head, fixing your hair in a caring way.
ㅤ"Sleep well, my love."
ㅤYou walked down the halls with a lost gaze towards the path before you, grasping the collar of your dress and attempting to pull at it. The way your chest ached and head spun had you desperate for fresh air. Your blurry mind managed to think of the garden on the instant. However, while making your way towards it in a hurry, you failed to notice a head of blond hair around the corner. Having gotten distracted by your long conversation about your knowledge on dragons, your newfound friend never got to choose more books from the library, so he sneaked there in the middle of the night. And he was about to return to his chambers, but felt the urge to follow you.
ㅤAemond arrived to the garden just a minute after you did, catching a glimpse of you running to hide behind a tree. His feeling that something was off was confirmed by the sobs he heard from afar.
ㅤ"Seven hells..."
ㅤHe shouldn't go there. But his feet were already moving. Your head shot up when you heard the sound of footsteps. Making out the features that were illuminated by the small candle he carried, you hid your face once again. He shouldn't see you like that. He didn't even know you.
ㅤ"What happened to you?" His words came out harsher than intended as he stared you down. No response was given, so he sat beside you under the leaves of your awkward silence, his book plastered over his bent knees. "If that's because you didn't win against Aegon, even he knows you did. He most certainly cannot sleep right now."
ㅤ"My— Ser Harwin got sent away." You said with a muffled voice. He was left speechless, not expecting there to be such severe consequences. "And it was my fault." You whispered.
ㅤOn any other day, Aemond would've told you the same to inspire sadness, but he saw you under a different light now. He began lifting a hand to pat your shoulder, then retracted. Instead, he opened his book and started searching for a specific page. "Would you like to read this with me? It's about Balerion." No answer again. "It has pictures." Your head shot up out of instinct and you bit your lip after noticing that his trick worked. You gave up your pride and turned your head to see the images of the dragon, wiping away your tears and letting out erratic breaths that seemed to steady within time. He turned the book into a better angle for you to look at, while fighting a small smile that broke through his stoic demeanor.
ㅤ"He was beautiful..." Your voice was quiet, but the silent night allowed it to stand out. Aemond nodded in agreement, he adored your admiration for the creatures he loved so much. He also felt an unknown peace overcome him now that you were calmer. All seemed to slowly get better, especially for the lanky boy watching you from behind a pillar with a mischievous smile on his face.
ㅤThe news had been all over the realm: Princess Rhaenyra had given birth to her firstborn, a girl, and the unexpected secondborn, a boy. For what it seemed, people considered it a good omen, not only a sign of fertility. And things were just as joyful inside the Red Keep, until the Queen entered their chambers. The minute she laid eyes on the newborns, she lost her mind. Rhaenyra was left terrified as Alicent stormed out of the place, and she knew everything was about to get worse.
ㅤStill, they managed to survive the chaotic welcoming into the family and grew to be happy children, running around the Keep and successfully making the ladies in court fall in love with them, despite the rumors. The new addition to the siblings only worsening the talks.
ㅤThe three of them had dragon eggs, although the first one was left unhatched. Still, the firstborn paid no mind, being a carefree child all along. From a young age, she believed there was something greater awaiting for her. And she would fight for it. Under the darkness of her wild curly hair, inhabited a brave soul, and everyone could see that.
ㅤAnd into the dark you felt at home, as you sneaked out of your chambers to train with your father during his night watch. Laughter could be heard as you ran towards him in the training yard and he caught you, lifting you up. "My little warrior! Excited for your lessons?"
ㅤ"Of course!" He chuckled along with you before setting you down.
ㅤ"Alright, then. But this time, I've got you a gift." You shot him a curious glare, raising a brow.
ㅤ"What is it?" Harwin grabbed his bag and took out a long object with caution, your face lighted up. He unsheathed the sword and placed it on your hands.
ㅤ"I believe you have trained enough now. But be careful! Also,"
ㅤ"Don't let anyone hear about this!" You impersonated him and chuckled afterwards, tracing your fingers against the blade. He only smiled at how much you enjoyed the gift.
ㅤ"Very well then. Shall we spar, my Princess?" You nodded and readied your weapon as he drew his own sword.
ㅤThe next day, after delivering Joffrey's egg, your brothers were sent to the dragonpit, but you weren't interested in Jace's trainings with his lizard. Meanwhile, you went to the library and found a book on the history of various Queens. Whenever you weren't studying High Valyrian or dragons, you entertained the thought of female rulers and adventurers very often. You imagined yourself in a position of freedom like them, although you wondered if such a burden allowed something like that. Books were your advisors, for that matter. You spent half of the day hypnotised by their contents and finished reading two before running back towards your mother's chambers. You smiled upon finding her and the babe there, walking towards them. Rhaenyra smiled in return.
ㅤ"How did training go, dear?"
ㅤ"Great." You answered genuinely before climbing on the settee beside your mother's chair. Standing on your knees, you observed him.
ㅤ"Is Jace doing well?"
ㅤ"He does what he can." Rhaenyra chuckled at that. Her daughter's gaze deep into the infant's eyes. "Why Joffrey?" The way you spoke gave away the dislike for the name. Rhaenyra held in a snort.
ㅤ"We just.. considered it fitting, uh.. It's a beautiful name, don't you think?" She asked while playing with the tiny hands.
ㅤ"If you say so." You shrugged before stepping back on the ground, slowly walking towards the egg to exam it. Rhaenyra watched for a while with an amused expression.
ㅤ"I'm off to the garden." You turned around and hugged your mother in a hurry, who was left in a state of bewilderment as you ran through the doors. "Goodbye, mother!"
ㅤThe garden was probably your favorite place in court, even more so than the library, as you loved to read under a tree. Still, most days, you went there in hopes of finding Helaena, sometimes in the garden itself, others up on the porch. And if you could trust your luck, there were days where Alicent would feel compelled to invite you to play with the Princess. Perhaps that was the very reason why they weren't there that day. The Queen was no fool to your tricks, you'd have to wait for the Septa to be in charge. You shrugged, and as you were about to move towards the tree, you heard a muffled cry come from above.
ㅤ"They gave me a pig!" Was that your younger uncle? You frowned. Then it struck you.
ㅤ"Those boys..." You figured you'd deal with them before supper, as they were most likely training with the sword. And while you waited for it, the remains of your day were spent chasing butterflies and practicing the mother tongue with them, as if they were dragons.
ㅤOnce washed by the Septa and dressed for supper, you walked up and down the halls, waiting for your brothers to appear. Jacaerys was the first to be let out of their chambers, hair brushed and clothes clean. He smiled at the sight of his twin, beaming to tell you about his day, but his face fell upon noticing your angry expression as you walked towards him.
ㅤ"Why did you do that to him?"
ㅤ"What are you talking about?" He reacted with a pronounced frown.
ㅤ"The pig, Jace!"
ㅤ"Oh, that? It wasn't my idea!"
ㅤ"Then whose idea was it? Little Luke's?"
ㅤ"Well, yes? And Aegon's!" You narrowed your eyes at him, arms crossed in front of your chest.
ㅤ"I'm never surprised by Aegon's antics, but to do that to his own brother?" You huffed, breaking your demeanor. Jace only shrugged with a sigh.
ㅤ"What can we do? He is a twat..."
ㅤ"Don't play the innocent. I know you certainly laughed at the jest."
ㅤ"I— Yes.. I did. It was hilarious, alright? He deserves it, either way."
ㅤ"Do I deserve it as well?" Your serious dark eyes made him hurt a little.
ㅤ"What? No! Is that why you didn't go to the dragonpit?"
ㅤ"I had better things to do. And unless you want me to join next time, you better stop jesting at his expense." You ended the conversation before walking the opposite way towards the dining chamber.
ㅤSupper went smoothly as the children seemed oblivious to the tension between the grownups. The King basked in the joy of an united part of the family, or at least it was how he saw it. Lucerys and Aegon competed upon who could catch more grapes with their mouths as Jacaerys and you threw them. Helaena was too distracted by picking out the peas from her plate, whereas Aemond watched their jests, torn between feeling left out and finding it ridiculous. You noticed his unamused stare, wondering if he was hurt by the previous acts in the dragonpit, so you thought of including him in your game.
ㅤ"Would you like to help me, uncle? I'm sure I can beat them!" You proposed in a quiet voice, as if it was a secret plan to defeat the others, while sliding a silver platter his way. He glanced down at the grapes and back at your face. He wasn't expecting your pity, or whatever that was. But he almost felt tempted to accept it.
ㅤ"No..." He seemed to fear his own imminent words, clutching the goblet in his hand. "This game is for imbeciles only." Your expression turned blank. He felt immediate regret. His brow twitched as he tried to read you. You didn't seem mad, or hurt. Instead you went back to laughing at something that happened beside the you, he didn't notice what, as if he didn't exist for any of you once more.
ㅤ"Do me, now!" You chimed in, catching Jace's attention, who wasted no time before throwing a grape your way. You caught it with ease, despite the distance, and you cheered together. Aemond looked around the group, lost in thoughts and growing even more upset as Aegon challenged their niece with great anger.
ㅤOnce supper was over, you and Jacaerys walked through the corridors with your arms intertwined while laughing about the previous events. Lucerys followed, goofing around like he always would. Further behind, was a sulking Aegon and his stoic brother. Aemond figured you were just like your brothers, and tried to throw away his guilt for the way he talked to you. He glanced your way one last time before entering their chambers.
ㅤ"What was that bastard trying to talk to you about?" Aegon asked before throwing himself onto his bed. Aemond looked at him from the corner of his eye.
ㅤ"Nothing I could care about." Yet he kept thinking about it.
ㅤLucerys and Jacaerys were already in bed while you sat by the writing table. You kept scribbling something over and over.
ㅤ"Could you, please, blow out that candle, sister?"
ㅤ"Unfortunately, I cannot. Luke is afraid of the dark."
ㅤ"Yes, you are!" You replied in a different tone, still paying attention to your writing. Luke then remembered your deal, in which you promised to give him all of your tarts until the next moon if he covered for your lies, and ceased to talk.
ㅤ"What do you even write so much?" Jace inquired.
ㅤ"It must be a love letter." Lucerys joined with a tease.
ㅤ"Close enough. High Valyrian lessons." Your response earned a frustrated groan from Jacaerys.
ㅤ"Will the parchments cease to exist by the morrow?"
ㅤ"Alright! I'll be gone." You stood up with a loud sigh, taking the candle from the table and walking out. There should be knights guarding their chambers, but you had come to find most of them were often occupied. The long way down to the library kept you sure of it, until you heard the clinking of metal. Quickly hiding around the corner, you caught a glimpse of a knight leaving one of the chambers. Your breath got caught in your throat as the heavy armor made its way closer. You tried to step back, but it was too late.
ㅤ"Princess." Ser Harwin said with a stern, yet sweet tone. You sighed in relief, flashing him an innocent smirk.
ㅤ"Hello, father." He looked around out to check for any other knight, out of habit. "Sorry." Your head fell once you realised your poor choice of words.
ㅤ"Don't worry. I'll just take you back to your chambers now." You looked disappointed for having been caught, but took his hand either way. "I shall tell you when you're allowed to wander at night, lass. Remember our agreement?" He told you while grabbing the parchment you carried under your arm.
ㅤ"Thank you."
ㅤ"Quite some complicated words, huh?" Harwin stated while reading the Valyrian scriptures. You chuckled timidly. "You're just too smart."
ㅤ"I'm not the only one who learns the mother tongue."
ㅤ"Doesn't matter." He shook his head, giving your hand a small squeeze. "I'm proud of you." You smiled before looking down. You walked in silence for a minute or two, when he spoke again.
ㅤ"Have you named your sword yet, after all?" You turned your gaze back up.
ㅤ"Is Sapphire a good name?"
ㅤ"Do you like it?" You nodded in response. "Well, then it's perfect."
ㅤ"What about Joffrey, then?" Harwin tried to hold in a chuckle. He was glad someone else agreed. You noticed it, smirking to yourself as you arrived your shared chambers.
ㅤ"Alright, you little jester, back to bed." He let go of your hand and pushed the door open, before handing you the parchments and taking the candle with him. You smiled at him before walking inside. The heavy sound of the door put an actual end to your day. But the night had only began for the sworn protectors of the realm, and with the darkness came the whispers to guard.
summary: amidst a war of kin, castles are the least precious fortresses broken. a labyrinth of resentment, duty and greed is the path a royal couple must lead, yet it seems impossible not to get lost in the way. rhaenyra's firstborn was a headstrong girl who conquered aemond targaryen's trust and devotion, but how strong can that be?
warnings : no usage of y/n, dark themes ahead, violence, child abuse, canon typical incest & more to be added.
Summary: After marrying in the Faith of the Seven, you and Aemond are ready to consummate your marriage. But something has been troubling him about it and you are determined to get to the bottom of this before finally giving in to your desires.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader
Word count: 10k (on the dot!)
Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); p in v sex; hand job; fingering; switch!Aemond (leaning more towards sub!Aemond); jealousy; referenced past SA (Aemond talks about the time Aegon took him to the Street of Silk) and it's consequences to oneself (please please read carefully)
Notes: Hello everyone! You thought this story was over, didn’t you? Well, it is not. I just took a really long time writing this chapter. Because of this, the first thing I’d like to do is apologize. I’m sorry for taking so long, I got caught up in some college work and this huge event I help organize, and it took me quite a while to finish that (and not only that, as you can see by the word count, this chapter is one chonky boi, for the more I wrote the more I wanted to write and I just couldn’t stop.) Anyway, here it is and I’m sorry once again.
TW: Please please read the warnings, this one does talk about SA and it’s repercussions and consequences to oneself, (it doesn’t happen during the story, it’s only mentions of past events). If this is something you are uncomfortable with feel free to skip this one, put yourself and your own comfort first, only read it if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Stay safe!
This story will have more parts to it, but like I said, I’ve been having a lot of work to do (a shame I can’t just write all day, but meh, c'est la vie) so I won’t be able to update weekly like with the previous chapters and updates will take a little while longer.
Also, I used an online translator (I don’t know if it’s grammatically correct, I’ll just roll with it, if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.
I am really proud of how this one turned out, really, I’d even dare say (throwing modesty out the window entirely) it’s one of my favorite works of mine so far. So I really hope you enjoy this one as much as I did! Thank you so so much for reading!
Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3
Your feet were killing you. There was no other way to describe it. You yearned to finally retire to your marital chambers and take off these dreaded shoes, but alas you had to entertain the guests for a little while longer at least.
“What troubles you, ābrazȳrys?” your husband asked from beside you.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, valzȳrys.” you smiled softly at him, your heart clenching at his concern.
Husband.
After four whole moons you could finally call Aemond your husband. Twice over in fact. Not only were you married in the Faith of the Seven, as per his mother’s and grandsire’s wishes, but Daemon and your mother had organized a ceremony for you to be wed in the ways of Old Valyria (after which your step-father had jested, asking if you were to consummate the marriage already or wait until after the second ceremony at the sept, earning a slap on the shoulder from Rhaenyra and a chuckle from Laenor. Aemond had in turn blushed profusely, and you thought the pink hue that dusted his cheeks suited him, wanting to see it more often).
Laenor had stayed with you in your chambers, running his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep. He had woken you by dawn, reluctantly saying he had to go, for Daemon had arranged a ship to take him back, but he needed to leave as early as possible as to not risk being seen by anyone. You said your goodbyes with tears rolling down your cheeks, for you felt this was the last time you’d ever see him again, though he did tell you to pay him a visit in Qarth should you ever find your way to Essos before disappearing through the secret tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast.
You barely managed to fall back asleep after that, too eager to start the day already. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent insisted on helping you get ready, you and your mother sharing complicit smiles every time your good mother referred to her son as your ‘soon to be’ husband. The ceremony itself went by without a hitch, with Aemond placing his cloak, in a mixture of both green and black colors, over your shoulders and kissing you tenderly afterwards.
The feast was grand, with almost every major house having been invited. You had saved your first dance for Aemond, but quickly switched partners and danced with Helaena, then with Baela, Jace, Luke and even with Aegon, though the last one was short lived for Aemond, not at all enjoying the sight of his brother’s grubby hands all over you, not so gently pushed him aside and resumed as your partner once more. You felt happy, happier than you had been in several years. Your family, or most of it, was reunited again, celebrating love and not fighting a senseless war like you feared they would.
And now, even though you were having a splendid time, you were counting the minutes until you could finally retire and spend some time alone with your husband.
“I cannot believe you are going to forego the bedding.” Aegon groaned from next to you “It is tradition.” to which you had to hold Aemond back from reaching across from you and strangling his brother as the latter cackled.
In the moons that followed your betrothal you had noticed that, whenever someone who wasn’t you made any reference to anything involving your marital bed or your marital duties, Aemond would tense up. Anyone else would think the way his shoulders straightened was a demonstration of pride, a man who couldn’t wait to bed his future wife, but you had come to know him better than that. While you had no doubt he was eager to lay with you, you knew his stiffness stemmed from somewhere else, somewhere he had yet to disclose. Where most saw him preening with pride you noticed him shrinking back in on himself.
So you requested, more, begged your mother to forbid the bedding ceremony, much to Aegon’s dismay, claiming you weren’t comfortable with the situation and you were the one who wanted privacy. It wasn’t technically a lie, for you truly wanted to share this moment with your husband only, but you wanted to get to the bottom of the issue first. She was quick to agree, and anyone who complained that it entailed breaking tradition got a scorn filled glare from her and a reminder that, as Queen, her word was final. The only condition, set by some of the men in the Small Council, was that you deliver the linens to one of the maesters in the morrow as proof of your virtue.
Aemond must have noticed you slumping in your chair, tiredness seeping into your bones from hours upon hours of celebration, for he stood from his seat and extended a hand to you.
“Shall we retire for the evening, my love?”
My love.
The moniker set your cheeks aflame as you smiled softly at him, glancing briefly at your mother, seeking her permission to be excused. She nodded softly, mentioning something about retiring as well to check on Visenya. You accepted his hand and both of you left the great hall amidst praises and cheers from the guests.
As you approached his, now yours as well, chambers you could see him getting progressively more fidgety. If it was due to nerves or anticipation you could not tell. He opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside and take in the room, the things you had requested the servants to move from your previous quarters already in place.
“I have something for you.” he spoke hurriedly, almost as soon as the door was closed “A wedding gift, if you will.”
“What is it?” you watched him cross the space towards a chest nestled against the wall, rummaging inside. When he turned back to you in his hands laid a sheathed sword, a large sapphire resting on the top of the handle, almost where it met the blade, catching your eye.
“I had a little help from my uncle to get the measurements correct for you.” he extended the sword to you which you took from him almost reverently, running your fingers delicately over the intricate golden designs of the sheath.
Your eyes were filled with wonder as you pulled the blade out of the sheath, noticing how smooth and shiny the metal was. There was something different about the steel, it was more vibrant than what you were used to seeing, softer, yet somehow almost… sharper.
Aemond must have seen your questioning gaze aimed at the sword for he smiled, an almost proud smirk adorning his features as he explained.
“Valyrian steel.” you whipped your head to stare at him, astonished “Jewelry from all over the realm made of valyrian steel was melted and added to the steel alloy.”
This was a lot. It was such a thoughtful gift, made just for you by your husband that it almost brought tears to your eyes.
“I know it is not the same as an actual valyrian steel sword, like Dark Sister, but those are even harder to come by.” he started rambling, taking your silence as a sign you didn’t enjoy the gift “And it is not made with the same technique, as it was lost after the Doom-”
“It is perfect.” you cut him off, gazing at him with eyes full of emotion “It is absolutely perfect, valzȳrys, thank you. How did you manage to find the jewelry?”
“I have my ways.” he shrugged, as if unbothered.
He hummed in contentment, his face softening as he took a step closer to you.
“I also had a belt made just for you.” he stepped even closer, his gaze turning slightly darker, as if he was a predator stalking its prey “So you can wear your sword around court. All day, every day.” his finger stroked the sapphire on the handle as his lips grazed your ear “I want all to know how fierce of a woman my lady wife is.”
He closed the gap between your mouths, claiming your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. It was over all too soon as he pulled away from you, but thankfully he didn’t go far. He took the sword from your hands, resheathing it and placing the gift on a nearby table, before kissing you again.
His arms circled around your waist and clung to your back as he kissed you hungrily, like if he didn’t get a taste of your lips he would die of starvation. His kisses left you burning from the inside, wishing, craving more.
Yet, as you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself you noticed how tense he was. You couldn’t help but take in the way his hands trembled as he started unlacing the back of your gown.
“Aemond.” you tried pulling away, to look at him properly, but he chased after you, not wanting to be parted from your lips. He only stopped when you gently grabbed his cheeks and had to physically pry himself from you “Husband, I think we ought to talk.”
He recoiled and was out of your arms and across the room in an instant, moving so fast you barely had any time to react.
“Do you not wish to consummate our marriage?” he looked so heartbreakingly hurt for only a moment but then he steeled himself and you could sense the mask of indifference he often wore around court starting to slip back on.
“No, my love, of course not.” you rushed to his side, once again cupping his jaw urging him to look at you “I am just worried for you, is all.”
“Why should you be worried about me, ābrazȳrys?” he spoke, his tone clipped and cold, more so than it had been in a really long time. If he noticed how much his question offended you he didn’t let it show.
“Why should I not worry about you, husband?” you emphasized the last word, taking a long deep breath to steady yourself and let go of your exasperation “I just wish to know why the thought of consummating our marriage worries you so.”
It was Aemond’s turn to stare at you in confusion.
“I believe I have made it quite clear the depths of my desire for you.”
“I know, I know. And I desire you greatly as well, never doubt that even for a moment.” you sighed, worried he’d shut you out or push you away if you prodded any further, but decided to push forward regardless “It is just that, in the past few moons, whenever anyone else mentioned or even hinted at our marital duties to one another you became tense, withdrawn even.”
He looked taken aback at your words, as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing such a thing in the first place.
“I just wish to understand what ails you, my love.”
My love.
Those two words once again seemed to be what chirped at his resolve. He averted his eye, almost in shame, and turned his back to you. For a moment you feared he was going to walk out the door and leave your shared chambers altogether but he did no such thing. Instead he walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. You wondered if you should approach him or give him space, worried he’d flinch from your touch like a frightened animal, but even if he didn’t meet your gaze his body was turned towards you, open and inviting. So you took slow and deliberate steps towards him, taking your place besides him.
He stayed silent for a moment, clenching his fists as they rested on his thighs. You took one of his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a gentle squeeze in hopes of calming his nerves. You raised your free hand towards the side of his face but stopped before you could touch him.
“May I?” you asked, and you didn’t need to say the words for him to know what you meant. Only after he nodded almost imperceptibly did you remove his eyepatch, revealing the alluring sapphire that matched the one placed on the gift he had given you.
“Aemond.” he glanced at you, something akin to guilt clear upon his features “Remember what we told each other earlier? I am yours and you are mine. Whatever it is, your burdens are now mine to carry as well.”
You placed your hand on his cheek, caressing the edge of his scarred flesh.
“Let me help you relieve some of that burden, please.” you practically whispered, almost begging.
For a moment he said nothing. Then he turned his head slightly, placing a kiss upon your palm.
“I have something I need to tell you.” he spoke, fear clinging to his voice.
“What is it?”
A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, wondering what could possibly be afflicting him so badly as to react like this, but nothing came to mind. So you settled on waiting for him to speak, not wanting to rush to conclusions.
“I have laid with a woman before.”
That… is not what you were expecting.
“When?” you did not know what else to say, so you settled for asking that.
“Years ago.” he shook his head, as if trying to forget “You were in Dragonstone at the time.”
You didn’t know how to react to that. You didn’t wish to dismiss his feelings, but you couldn’t seem to understand what the big deal was.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he pulled back, almost offended
“Yeah.” you shrugged “I fail to see what the problem is.”
“How could you say that?” he stood up, pacing back and forth in front of you in frustration.
“We were not yet involved with one another, so you were not technically bound to anyone.”
“You waited around for me-”
“I did not remain a maiden specifically for you.” you reminded him “If I were a man I, too, would probably have indulged in the pleasures of the flesh.”
“Still. I should not have sullied myself like that, it was unbecoming of someone of my position and a disrespect to you, to my future wife.”
You wanted to argue further, to make him see reason, but the disproportionate reaction to something that, to you, seemed so trivial clued you in that his troubles ran deeper than you first thought. So you stopped talking, choosing to just annalyse his mannerisms. His movements were erratic, his fingers clawing at its nail beds almost to the point of breaking the skin, a habit inherited from his mother which he almost never indulged in.
He halted when he felt your hand wrapping around his arm, the leather of the doublet cold against your skin.
“You do not have to explain yourself to me. But I feel like there is something you are not telling me.” you grabbed both of his hands in your own, kissing his knuckles tenderly “I completely understand if you do not wish to share it. We can just forget this conversation ever happened and I shall not press any further, but, husband, please, I only wish to help ease your troubles.”
Aemond paused, exhaling shakily, before averting his eyes once more. Shame and guilt emanated from him in waves as he sat back down on top of the linens. You waited for his next move, smiling softly when his arms circled around your waist and brought you closer to him, standing between his parted legs.
“On my thirteenth name day,” he shuddered softly when he felt your fingers running through his scalp, his cheek resting in your stomach as he spoke “Aegon took me to the Street of Silk, as his gift to me. I did not know where we were going, ‘a surprise’ he said.”
It was your turn to shudder, your stomach churning as you felt where his tale was headed.
“He said… he said it was time for me to become a man. To become as well versed as he was, ‘a scholar in the ways of life’. I did not understand what he meant at first, but it was clear to me soon enough.”
He turned his head, hiding his face in your stomach as his hold on you tightened. The scene reminded you so much of the last time you saw him before your years-long distance, on that fateful night on Driftmark. Looking at him now you realized that, deep down, he was still that scared little boy, hiding behind the image of the fierce, impassive warrior he had created for himself over the years.
“Aemond, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whispered “I get it. You do not need to continue if you wish to stop.”
He shook his head in response, desperate to get it all out now that he had already started. You supposed this was the first time he was speaking these words out loud, never having dared to utter it to a single soul before. So you tried to soothe him as best as you could, pulling the band that held his hair up in its usual half updo and letting it down, giving you more room to run your fingers through his locks, untangling the silver strands. This seemed to give him enough strength to continue, shifting his head so only his forehead was in contact with you and his words were directed to the ground below him, as if he couldn’t dare to look up at you.
“He arranged for a… a w-whore” he spit the word out like it was poison on his tongue “to take care of me in exchange for a bag of gold, and when the woman tried to give him back the excess amount, claiming it was too much, he told her to keep it. ‘For your trouble’ he told her.”
Your heart twisted painfully in your chest at his words. You were never too fond of Aegon, especially for the way he treated both Aemond and Helaena, but this… this was vile even for him.
“He wanted to watch.” he propped his chin on your stomach, peering up at you with a round, frightened eye that was steadily brimming with tears “I did not want him to watch. The madam tried to send him away, but he insisted, saying that he was the prince and he commanded it. Thankfully he got distracted by some other woman there and left.”
“A-and how did-” you swallowed thickly, trying to stay strong for him even though your own heart shattered for the boy he once was, the boy who shaped the man he was now “how did that make you feel?”
He shook his head once more, his gaze becoming distant, as if he was now looking through you rather than at you.
“I do not remember much.” he whispered “I just remember the stench. The whole place stunk. It reeked of sweat and wine and something… something so sickeningly sweet it was foul. Once I left I could still feel the smell clinging to me.”
One lone tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, and then another. You cupped his cheek, your thumb catching the tears that refused to stop as he hiccuped.
“I tried washing it off. Scrubbed at my skin until it was raw and tender, but it would not go away.” his voice started to get tight “After a few days and several baths later it was still there, still lingering. I tried asking mother and even Helaena if they could feel it in me but they lied. They lied and said I smelled fine but I could feel it.” he choked back on a sob “I could feel it in me still, like it had seeped into my very bones. Sometimes when I think too hard about that night I can still feel it in my skin, like it never even left.”
His arms brought you even closer to him, almost to the point of pain, as if he was trying to completely merge his very being into you.
“I know I shouldn’t have.” his gaze focused on you once more, eye pleading for you, his tone bordering on desperation “Forgive me, please, mandianna! I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place, I shouldn’t have-”
“Qȳbor, stop.” you whispered softly, not wanting to aggravate him when he was this vulnerable “You have nothing to apologize for. You were only a child.”
“Still, I should have known better than-” he started shaking his head again, the look in his eye almost crazed, like he wanted so desperately for you to see him the way he saw himself.
“Aemond.” you spoke firmly, gripping his chin to force him to look at you “You were a child.”
A moment of silence passed, only his heavy breathing to be heard. Then something dawned on him, for he pressed his face against your stomach once more and started sobbing uncontrollably. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his wails, your arms coming around his frame to hold him against you, one hand gripping the back of his head and the other stroking his back. He cried and cried and cried. It seemed like he finally understood, after all these years, what truly happened that night. He realized his own brother sold his innocence, something that was his to freely give to whomever he chose, for some coin. His brother and, by extension, the madam forcefully took from him something that was inherently his, that should have remained his, something he would never get back and would never not miss. It was his, it should have been him to choose what to do with it, and they took it from him.
His loathing shifted then. What was once aimed at himself, the hatred he felt for the stench that never truly went away, shifted in turn to Aegon. He slowly, very slowly, started to forgive that thirteen year old boy, the one that never left either, for the things that happened to him that night. He now realized you could not forgive him for what he had done, for the one whose forgiveness he really needed was himself. It would take him a long time, he knew, to accept his own absolution, and perhaps he never would, not fully anyway, but he could certainly try.
Once he calmed down enough, his sobs turning to mere sniffles, he raised his head to glance at you once more. You were smiling softly at him, eyes so filled with love and compassion he felt almost undeserving of it. Your fingers in his hair helped to ground him, to bring him back to this moment in your arms. Realizing what had just transpired he tried to turn his head away in embarrassment but you wouldn’t let him.
“I am glad I have earned your trust enough for you to share this with me.” you spoke with reverence, earning a shy smile in return.
He then dried the remaining tears from his face and tried to stand up, but you were quicker, pressing onto his shoulders so he would remain seated.
“We do not have to do anything tonight.” you brushed a strand of hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear “I can just prick a finger and smear some blood on the linens.”
“But I want to.” he almost whined, not wishing for you to part from him “I want to do this with you. With you I do not feel that stench, I-” he took a steadying breath before whispering “I just feel you.”
In that very moment you felt like your heart would burst from how much love you held for this man.
“Okay.”
He smiled brightly then, nuzzling his nose against you.
“But…” you pulled back from him, commanding his full attention “we will do only what you wish, nothing more. Whatever you want, tell me and it is yours. And if you wish to stop, at any moment, you tell me, alright?”
“Alright.” he nodded, quite enthusiastic.
“You have to promise me you will tell me if you want to stop.” you reiterated “Promise me.”
He stared up at you with so much adoration you felt like the Mother brought to land.
“I promise.”
You smiled, satisfied that he would follow through should he need to.
“Well, how do you want to start then?”
His gaze turned to one of confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we cannot just jump right into it.” you jested.
“We can’t?” he looked so preoccupied at that, and your heart broke all over again. By the Gods, what had they done to this boy in that brothel?
You crouched down so your face was level with his, your noses almost touching as you whispered into his lips.
“Tell me what you want, valzȳrys.”
Aemond was at a loss for words, a world of endless possibilities presented itself to him and he didn’t know where to begin. But he supposed there was one thing he knew could be a good place to start.
“Can you kiss me?” he pleaded.
You sat down next to him on the bed, your body turned towards him, your knees bumping against his.
“You want me to kiss you?” you spoke softly, deciding to tease him for a bit by pulling one of his hands to your lips and kissing his knuckles “Is this where you want me to kiss you?”
“No,” he shook his head “not there.”
You hummed as if confused and let your lips graze his cheek.
“What about here?”
“No.”
Your lips traveled lower, placing a gentle kiss against his jaw.
“Here?” to which he shook his head.
Going lower, your lips traced the column of his throat, earning a soft gasp from him.
“N-not there either.” he whimpered as your teeth nipped against his skin gently.
“Then where do you want me to kiss you?” you pulled back, staring at his eye “I need you to tell me.”
His cheeks lit up bright pink, embarrassment coursing through him at the thought of speaking his thoughts out loud. But he had come to learn that if there was one person in his life that he could trust, that person was you.
“On the lips.”
You relented then, chasing his lips with your own. They were soft, only a trace of salt left behind by his tears previously shed. You kissed him gently, hands cupping his jaw as his own settled on your waist. It was tender, almost chaste, and you tried pouring all the love you felt for him into the kiss.
“I like it when you kiss me.” he whispered when you pulled back “No one else has ever done that for me.”
It was your turn to look confused, staring at him wide eyed.
“You have never been kissed before?” you questioned “By anyone other than me?”
He shook his head. That explained why he seemed so inexperienced the first few times around, because he truly was inexperienced.
“Not even…?” you didn’t want to say it, but he understood what you meant.
“No.” he denied again “It felt too intimate.”
More intimate than sex? you thought.
“After that night in the tub, before Driftmark,” you recalled that night, the night you shared your very first kiss. It was a peck more than anything, a childish attempt mostly, but it had meant the world to you “whenever I thought about doing it with someone else it did not feel right. Yours were the only lips I ever wanted to taste.”
You couldn’t help yourself, surging forward to capture his lips with your own in a heated kiss. The quiet whimper that escaped his mouth only spurred you on, seeking his touch. Your tongue eagerly tangled with his, tasting the sweet Dornish Red he had been sipping on before and something that was so inherently him.
He pulled back then, breathing heavily against your lips, a sheen line of saliva connecting both your mouths before dissipating.
“What about you?” he questioned, still trying to regain his breath.
“What about me?”
“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, averting his gaze shyly “Before me, I mean? You are quite good at it, I believe.”
“Well, I have had some practice.” it was your turn to feel embarrassed, quickly glancing away from him “For a while Jace and I believed mother would eventually marry us to one another after we left for Dragonstone. We decided to get used to each other before the inevitable happened.”
Something twisted painfully in Aemond’s chest at the thought of you, a younger you, locking lips with his damned nephew. It was almost primal, this rage he felt. You were his and his alone. You have always been his from the very moment you had come into this world, and you’d continue to be his until the Stranger came to collect your soul.
“It was gross, really. Happened only a handful of times before we gave up trying to pretend we were not disgusted by the idea.”
Your words did little to quell his unsettling feelings. Was this what jealousy felt like? Not envy, actual jealousy? Envy was something he was familiar with, for he had felt it pretty much all his life. He envied Aegon the most, but he also envied Rhaenyra a lot as well, your brothers and hells, even Helaena sometimes even though he loathed it. This was different.
“And I may or may not have gotten a bit too tipsy while staying on Winterfell during my travels and shared a kiss or two with the Warden of the North.”
“Cregan Stark?” he scoffed. While the thought of you swapping spit with a boresome and self-righteous northerner was a little less rage inducing in comparison to Jacaerys, that simmering jealousy was still present.
That all dissipated though at the feeling of your fingers gently brushing his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear.
“But none of them hold a candle to you.” his heart skipped a beat at your words, your hand reaching to do the same to the other side of his hair “Especially when you blush so prettily.”
Heat spread all over his face, as he stammered.
“I-I do no such thing!” he tried sounding offended, but all he did was make you giggle, as he proved your words right.
“Yes, you do.” you hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to keep his gaze on you “You turn all red at a mere brush of my fingers, at the slightest of compliments. Like a maiden.”
He felt the warmth spreading to the tip of his ears, the back of his neck and even down his chest.
“How red do you think you would blush if I touched you some more, hm?”
Your fingers gently traced down his throat, feeling when he gulped harshly.
“Would you like that, husband?” you trailed down his soft skin, reaching the spot where his collarbone met the leather coat he still wore “For me to touch you?”
He nodded, somewhat shyly, but very much eager for you to make due on your word.
“Can I take this off?” you tugged at his doublet, almost startling at the speed at which he stood up and took it off for you. The linen chemise he wore underneath it quickly followed and he was left shirtless in front of you. You’d never get tired of looking at him, bare or otherwise. He was beautiful, all valyrian and almost none of the Hightower blood from his mother. You believed if the god Balerion ever had a physical body it would definitely look like Aemond.
You stood up as well, facing him as your fingers traced his features. You started by tracing his nose, following the curve of it down to his mouth, his lips twitching upon your touch as he puckered them, placing a soft kiss on the pads of your fingers. You traced along the column of his throat, your fingers tangling softly on the strands at the nape of his neck and tugging gently, earning a whimper from him. Then you kept going, fingers sliding against the planes of his chest and tracing the taunt lines of muscle in his abdomen. As you reached the hem of his breeches you snaked your arm around his slim waist, sprawling your hand against the slope of his lower back and pushing him towards you. The little ‘hmph’ sound that escaped him at the impact of your bodies was quickly drowned by your lips as they claimed his own in another fierce kiss.
Your fingers started their exploration all over again, starting once more at the back of his neck and slowly following down the length of his spine, feeling each and every ridge and bump under his skin, as he shuddered with every brush of your digits.
“P-Please,” Aemond mumbled as you nipped at his bottom lip “ābrazȳrys, please.”
“Please what?” you kissed his jaw, then down his neck, then at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.
“Please, touch me.”
“I am touching you, valzȳrys.” you smirked against him, your teeth nibbling gently on his skin.
“J-just please…” he moaned softly as your tongue soothed the spot you had bitten “touch me, please.”
You decided to have mercy on him, moving your hand to the front of his trousers, stopping short at the laces.
“May I?” he nodded his head desperately.
Untying his breeches you let them slide down his body, pooling at his feet, as he finally revealed himself to you. He was already hard, almost painfully so, weeping at the tip and awaiting your touch.
And then… you hesitated, unsure how to proceed. While you felt satisfaction at teasing him, you were the maiden in this situation. No amount of hushed, almost shameful lessons from your septa, no amount of embarrassing tips and advice from your mother could prepare you for the actual thing. You may have practiced your kissing skills with Jace and, briefly, with Cregan, but you had never gone any further, knowing what the realm regretfully thought of women of your station indulging before being wed and refusing to let your virtue be made a spectacle of. So while you may have talked a big game before, as if you held all the knowledge, it was all purely theoretical.
Aemond, sensing your apprehension, searched your gaze with his.
“What is it?” he asked, voice laced with quiet concern.
“Nothing much.” you chuckled, although it sounded mirthless to your ears, conveying your embarrassment “I am merely assessing the best way to approach the situation at hand.”
While you had chosen not to be direct about your troubles, opting instead to jest about it, he had understood you clearly, for you had become so intune with one another the past few moons. With deliberate movements he delicately held your wrist, never breaking eye contact, as he brought your hand over to him slowly, very slowly, giving you ample opportunity to stop him if you wished. But you didn’t want to. You let him guide you, his large hand settling over yours as you gathered some of the pearlescent wetness dripping from his tip in your palm before guiding you to encircle his cock, his fingers around yours as he shuddered at the first contact of your skin against his.
He was hot and heavy in your hand as he directed your movements with precision, stroking his cock up and down, pumping him, slowing or speeding up your motions to his liking. Slowly but surely you started to take control, following his lead and mimicking his actions. He groaned encouragingly, letting go of your fingers, his hands settling on your waist as you continued to stroke him up and down and up and down, speeding up or slowing down, gathering some more wetness under your thumb and stroking his cock with it. His groans and grunts emboldened you, trying to gauge his reactions.
And then you tightened your hold on him, squeezing his cock just a bit tighter under your grip, and he almost tumbled to the ground, his knees nearly buckling in reaction. His own grip on you grew tighter, as if supporting his weight on you, head tilted forward and face hiding in the crook of your neck as he moaned.
He was loud.
Even muffled against your skin, his moans and whines resonated throughout the bedchambers as you continued your ministrations, increasing in pitch with each tilt or flick of your wrist, with each squeeze and stroke of your hand. You were tugging him faster now, your grip firm and deliberate as his cock twitched in your hold and his whole body trembled against you.
“Wait.” he mumbled, his voice strained “P-please, just wait.”
You ripped yourself away from him then, a sudden surge of guilt blooming in your chest.
“Forgive me.” you glanced at him, averting your gaze in shame as you wondered if you had made him too uncomfortable “I got carried away. I apologize.”
“You misunderstand me, wife.” he tried to slow his erratic breathing “I do not wish for you to stop. But if you continued as you were I would surely spill my seed against your hand. We should not let any of my spend go to waste on a night as important as this one.”
What?
Your confusion must have been reflected on your features for he continued his explanation, his voice carrying a teasing tone to it.
“It is expected of us to produce an heir tonight. We wouldn’t want to fail our duties now, would we?” he gripped your chin, placing a chaste kiss against your lips “The first time I spill my seed I want it to be inside your cunt.”
Had it been anyone else, had you been married to anyone else, you would have assumed they meant it as a command, solely means to an end, as producing heirs was indeed part of your duty. But this, you noticed in his eye, was his way of showcasing his true intentions without actually saying it, hiding behind some mere jesting: he wanted this. He wanted to give you an heir, for his seed to take root in your womb and for you to carry his child. The thought elicited warmth in your chest, feeling giddy at the idea.
“Can I touch you now?” he asked, his plea bordering on desperation as he gave a quick peck to your lips.
You pulled back then, staring deeply at him.
“Do you believe you deserve to touch me?” you whispered against his lips.
He faltered then, unsure what you wanted from him. A shake of his head had you scoffing softly.
“Try again.” you nuzzled your nose against his, trying to coax him out of his self made shell “Do you deserve this?”
The glint he noticed in your eyes gave away what you wanted from him, so he nodded, his movement curt and shaky.
“I want to hear you say it.” your voice made it sound like a request, but he knew it was anything but.
“Yes.” he whispered back, his breath fanning your lips.
“Yes what?”
“I deserve it.” as the words left his lips, for the first time in a long time, he started to actually believe them.
You nodded, satisfied with him.
“Yes, you do.” you cooed, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging “You do deserve this.”
As your lips settled on his jaw, he caught onto every hidden meaning of your words, affection swarming in his chest.
You deserve to be loved.
He claimed your lips in a soft kiss once more, his fingers resuming their task of untying the laces in your beautiful wedding gown, letting it slip down your arms and pool in a heap on the floor. He made quick work of your smallclothes as well, leaving you bare before him. He hurriedly stepped out of his discarded breeches, carefully helping out of your dress and closer towards the bed.
Aemond’s fingers danced across your skin, caressing you with such reverence it almost brought tears to your eyes again. His fingers crawled down your spine, sliding between your shoulder blades, like you had done for him, his lips trailing down your neck with soft kisses. Goosebumps formed on your skin as his fingers traced your ribcage, his touch so close yet not close enough to your breasts. He nipped at your collarbone, his hand finally closing around one of your breasts, gentle, like he was weighing it in his hand, his lips following down and nibbling at the skin of the other breast. A loud, strangled whine left escaped you as he pinched your nipple, rolling the bud between two fingers, growing louder as his lips closed around the other nipple.
You could feel the walls of your cunt pulsing as his tongue worked your breasts, your heartbeat increasing as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. The noise that left your lips seemed to spur him on even further, as he sucked with more intensity and he groped your other breast more firmly, his entire hand surrounding the skin.
His fingers trailed even further down, passing your navel and slipping between your folds. His touch was featherlight against your dripping cunt, gathering some wetness and circling your entrance, without ever dipping inside
“P-please, husband.” you whined, your back arching in pleasure at his teasing, pushing your breast even more into his face.
He relented then, pushing his finger inside your cunt, slipping in easily with how soaked you already were. His moan echoed your own as your walls fluttered around his digit. He let you get used to the intrusion for a moment before starting to move his finger inside you, his movements tentative as he explored your walls, almost like he was searching for something, for what you didn’t know.
Though you’d never admit this to anyone, you were acutely aware of his fingers, having paid close attention to them when you watched him train. They were long and slender as they gripped the handle of his sword, but at the same time they were strong and thick and, as he added a second one, you could feel how perfectly well he filled you. As he explored your cunt, you could feel every movement of his fingers brushing against your walls, that familiar coil of pleasure slowly but steadily building in your core. It only intensified as the heel of his hand pressed against your clit as he tried to reach even further inside you, the molten heat pooling in your core and starting to spread through your whole body, so much so you barely noticed when his mouth had moved to your other breast.
Then his fingertips brushed against one spot inside your cunt that almost made you see stars, your legs wobbling as pleasure shot up your spine and assaulted all your senses. You could feel him smirk against your skin as you moaned loudly, brushing against the same spot again as you mewled and whined, trying to move away from him but the arm snaked around your back prevented you from doing so. His fingers seemed to reach places inside you didn’t know existed as he clawed and scissored inside your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It was almost too much and barely enough at the same time; you wanted him like you had never wanted anything else in your entire life.
He let go of your nipple with a wet smack of his lips, his mouth settling on that spot behind your ear and pressing soft kisses against your skin. It was such a contrast from the way his fingers were working inside your cunt, his words gentle and sweet, mumbling caring words in high valyrian as he mouthed and nibbled on your skin, but the pleasure was clouding your thoughts, the words getting fogged up in your mind. But something caught your attention, and as you tuned into the words, they were your undoing.
“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrītsos.” he whispered against the shell of your ear, laying a soft kiss on the skin “Va moriot emagon se va moriot kessa.”
With a stutter of your heart the coil in your core snapped, hot, molten pleasure washing over you and spreading throughout your whole body, tingling with dozens of goosebumps that formed on your skin. It left you breathless, sluggish and warm as you tried to regain your bearings.
“Aem…-” you tried calling out to him, voice hoarse from the intensity of your moans, but you couldn’t seem to find your voice just yet.
But he heard you. And something in him snapped.
In an instant you were lying on your back against the soft linens, barely having time to react as he pushed you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. His lips claimed yours in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, you were sure your mouth would be sporting bruises on the morrow such was its intensity. He settled in between your spread thighs, his hard length nestling between your folds as he nipped on your jaw, kissing a line down your neck.
“Say it again, please.” he begged “Say my name again.”
“A-Aemond?”
“No, no, not that.” he admonished softly, kissing your mouth once again.
You searched your mind for what he could possibly be referring to. That was his name, was it not? What you’d always referred to him as, if you weren’t calling him by his familial ties to you, in common tongue or high valyrian alike?
Except it wasn’t.
It had been years, well over a decade even since you referred to him as something else entirely. Barely a toddler, Jace only a babe and Luke still in your mother’s womb, you followed Aemond around the Keep like a lost puppy all day, for he seemed to be the only one willing to entertain you. It was only natural then for you to worship the ground he walked on, basking in his attention for as long as he was willing to give it to you. But as such a young child you couldn’t properly speak such a complicated name in conversation, settling on calling him for a shortened sobriquet. You didn’t think much of it, and he never opposed such a nickname, until Aegon caught you calling him by the moniker and instantly started teasing the both of you relentlessly because of it. It earned him a swift kick to the shin and three days without speaking to either of them, but as it often is with small children, your grudge was quickly forgotten, going back to trailing after Aemond. However, to save both him and yourself from further humiliation, you settled for referring to him only as ‘uncle’ until you could utter his full name, never again daring to use the nickname.
It was so meaningless to you, back then. And you were both so young, he couldn’t possibly remember that, could he?
“Aem?” you spoke tentatively, not sure if this is what he wished for.
The loud whine that escaped his lips, breathed against your cheek, and the way his cock twitched were all the answer you needed.
“Please, little niece, byka mandianna,” he rasped, desperation dripping from his tone as he started gently rocking his hips against yours “Please say that again.”
“Aem…” you said with more confidence, breaking off into a moan at the end as the head of his cock brushed against your clit.
He shifted his body on top of you, lining his cock up with your entrance.
“Again, please.”
“A-Aem?” even though you wanted this, truly and wholeheartedly, now that you were about to consummate your marriage for real you were suddenly filled with a twinge of apprehension. While you were certain Aemond wasn’t like most men, you had heard stories from women at court about how their husbands treated them in the throes of passion.
Sensing your quiet distress, Aemond lifted his head to stare at you, sapphire eye glinting under the soft glow of the candles and silver strands cascading around you.
“We can stop if you wish.” he spoke quietly.
“No, no please, I want to. I am just…”
Even if you couldn’t quite explain it he seemed to understand, for he placed a soft kiss on your lips.
“I promise to be gentle.”
In his eye you saw nothing but truth, the sincerity of his words easing your nerves.
“I trust you.”
He nodded and started ever so slowly pushing inside you, inch by inch, pulling back and thrusting inside again, a little deeper than before. It was a lot for the both of you, your combined moans echoing through the chambers; even though he wanted to look upon your eyes as you shared this moment he couldn’t, his head falling against your shoulder as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. His cock was met with little resistance, your cunt still soaked. The pain you were previously expecting came in the form of an acute pinch as your cunt stretched to accommodate him, your breath hitching and a whimper passing through your lips. Aemond shushed and cooed against your ear, little whispers of ‘I’ve got you’ spoken against your ear as he stalled his movements, only resuming them when he felt you relax in his arms once more.
When he finally settled, his hips flush against yours and his cock inside your cunt to the hilt, you released your breath, not even realizing you had been holding it. You felt like you were burning from within where your bodies were connected, yet it was a comforting kind of heat, not at all like dragonfire. At least not yet. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every twitch that made the walls of your cunt clench in response. It was so intimate, you had never been closer to a person in your life, and you felt like the longer you stayed like this you were being perfectly molded to one another, as if you weren’t already a permanent fixture in each other’s hearts. You felt complete.
As your discomfort subsided, the pain slowly turning to a sense of fullness, you tangled your fingers in his hair, turning your head to the side to breathe upon his ear.
“I am alright now, husband. You can move.”
Regardless of your request he stood still for a moment longer, breathing heavily and erratically against your skin.
“Aem?” you spoke softly, worried it might be too much for him.
That seemed to do the trick, as Aemond slowly started to roll his hips against yours, pulling his cock almost all the way out and thrusting back in, filling you to the brim once more. Every time he would thrust back in the head of his cock would brush against that spot inside your cunt that had your eyes rolling back, shooting little bolts of pleasure up your spine and filling your core with fire once more.
His hips picked up pace, then, his thrusts far faster and more powerful than before. He let go, fully dropping his weight on top of you, pressing you against the mattress as your legs framed his hips, your hands gripping at his shoulder blades.
It was intense and blazing and comforting and overwhelming and caring and sultry and loving and oh, so good, all at the same time this push and pull and shove and tug and you couldn’t think straight yet your focus was sharp and you could feel everything and it was absolutely, downright perfect.
The stretch of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock was no longer painful, giving away to unimaginable pleasure like you had never felt before. You were acutely aware of the way Aemond mouthed at your shoulder, mumbling barely coherent words against your skin.
“Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria.” he grunted against your skin, groaning as the words made you clench tightly around him “Dōna zaldrītsos, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys.”
He was rambling, almost irrationally, too far gone in his own pleasure. That and the way his thrusts were becoming sloppy, now more of a rut of his hips against yours, indicated that he was close.
Enamored with the way he moaned your name and your title and your future title and sweet monikers, in high valyrian mostly, you couldn’t help but want to see how far he would go.
“Husband, valzȳrys,” you tangled your fingers in his hair once more, giving the locks a gentle tug, earning a whine in response “Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes. Avy jorrāelan tolī hae olvie hae konīr issi qēlossās isse se jēdar, Aem.”
It was enough to send him off the edge, his hips stuttering and cock twitching violently, painting your walls with warm ropes of his seed. He practically sobbed in your arms between clenched teeth, his arms squeezing you tightly against him as he gave a few more weak thrusts, his breath fanning the skin of your neck still. The scorching pressure that had been building in your stomach seemed to fade slightly as Aemond slowed to a stop, his softening cock still nestled inside you as he stilled completely on top of you, trembling in your arms. His hair was sticking to his head, damp with sweat, the rest of his body also drenched and clammy from the exertion, much like your own. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch his breath and recover.
“F-Forgive me, ābrazȳrys.” he raised his head and it was then you could see the remnant of tears in his eyes, from your words or the intensity of his peak, you couldn’t tell.
“What for?” you smiled brightly at him, pushing a strand of silvery hair behind his ear, making him shiver as your fingers brushed against his cheek.
“Y-you did-” he finally seemed to recollect his thoughts as he pushed himself on his forearms above you “You did not peak.”
“That is quite alright.” you shrugged, not at all bothered by that “I did so earlier, from your fingers.”
He shook his head, a determined look in his face as if to say that that wouldn’t do.
“No wife of mine will be left unsatisfied.” he was already pulling out of you with a soft hiss and maneuvering on the bed despite your protests, coming to settle on his stomach at the edge of the mattress.
“Aemond what are you-” you yelped as he grabbed both your legs and yanked you towards himself, his face level with your cunt. He placed your thighs over his shoulders and placed one arm over your stomach “Aemond, you do not have to.” you tried once more.
“I want to.” he said, his eyes never straying from where his spend started leaking from your cunt “Can a man not enjoy the taste of his wife on their wedding night?”
“Of course you can, it is just that-” he didn’t let you finish, pulling another broken, choked moan from you as he licked a broad stripe over your folds.
Aemond feasted upon your cunt like a man starved, drinking down your juices mixed with his own spend, but that didn’t seem to deter him, oh no, if anything the salty taste of himself against your own tangy one only seemed to spur him on.
It didn’t take long to get you back to where you were moments before, that burning pressure still lingering in the back of your mind. You knew Aemond was talented with his tongue, hells, he was known for his silver tongue that could cut down even the most fearless in court. Moreover, he was fluent in the language of your ancestors, his tongue rolling around the letters as he almost purred the words into the world, a language just for your own. And yet, he never ceased to surprise you with how good he could make you feel with his tongue alone.
Clenching the sheets under your palms, you almost sobbed as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He rolled it around his lips, his tongue peaking out to give your clit a few small licks as he extended one of his arms to, prying your fingers from the linens and threading them with his own, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, his other arm draped across your stomach, holding your hips down as you started canting them against his face.
You weakly raised yourself on your forearms to be able to look at him properly, peering at him through heavy lidded eyes, and were surprised to notice him already looking at you, gazing at you with so much adoration in his eye as his hips rutted against the bed. You realized, not for the first time, that bringing you pleasure brought him pleasure in return. He hummed as he noticed you staring at him, the vibrations sending jolts of unbridled pleasure up your spine and down again. His eyes twinkled and curled up, little crinkled lines adorning the corners, and you recognized that the smug bastard was smirking, self-satisfied at having you reduced to such a moaning mess before him.
The coil of pleasure in the form of a pool of liquid heat was steadily building up again with each stroke of his tongue over your folds, each flick of his lips over your clit stoking that fire growing and expanding inside you. His grip on your hips tightened as his other hand moved down to your cunt and shoved two fingers inside you, pulling back a bit to address you quietly.
“Let go, wife. I know you want to. You can let go for me.”
And then his fingers curled upwards, brushing against that spongy spot once more and you were done for. The bliss that washed over you, tangling with the burning love you held for this man, was so intense it sent waves through your whole body. Stars danced behind your eyelids, your eyes having closed on their own accord some time before, as the pleasure rolled and stretched to all of your extremities, making your fingertips tingle and your toes curl, knocking the breath from your lungs. Although you knew your jaw was hanging open you couldn’t hear yourself, but you couldn’t discern if it was due to the ringing in your ears or if you had already screamed yourself hoarse.
As your perception of the world around you slowly returned once you came down from your high, the pleasure subsiding and leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling in its wake, you felt Aemond’s thumb gently stroking your knuckles, having removed his hand from inside you, his other palm spread over your stomach as he helped you coax you back down and when you gazed at him you were met with his gentle smile
“T-thank you, husband.” you said a few moments later after catching your breath, exhaustion starting to settle in your bones as you relaxed over the linens, your head falling back on the bed.
“Oh, you thought I was done with you?” he asked, almost mockingly. Raising your head again you noticed his prior smile had given way to a menacing smirk as he started crawling over you slowly, looking predatory. He covered your body with his once more, and you felt his hardened cock against your thigh, having stimulated himself back to full hardness.
“I don’t intend on letting you leave this bed until I have filled you with my seed over and over and over,” he punctuated each pause with a kiss to your lips as he whispered “that I have made sure it has taken root inside you. We need to produce an heir after all, dear wife.”
High Valyrian translations:
- ābrazȳrys - wife
- valzȳrys - husband
- mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter)
- qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother)
- ñuha jorrāelagon - my love or my dear
- avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrītsos - I love you, my little dragon
- va moriot emagon se va moriot kessa - always have and always will
- byka mandianna - little niece
- ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria - my wife, my queen
- dōna zaldrītsos, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys - sweet little dragon, dear wife
- avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes - I love you, my dragon
- avy jorrāelan tolī hae olvie hae konīr issi qēlossās isse se jēdar - I love you as much as there are stars in the sky
The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Nine: Time Mends the Broken
|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|
Masterlist of Series
Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.
What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?
Author's Note: 9.2k words later and here we are! That's almost as much as the other Ch. The Long Night. Finally, Jace and his sister talk about what's happened to them! I know some of y'all have been waiting for that. We really go deep into the reader and Aemond's dynamic in this one too. As always, thank you for your patience and happy reading! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
Chapter Warnings: ✨Targaryen queerness✨, melodramatic young adults, mentions of rape, Alicent being delulu, toxic relationships.
As your family arrived at the Red Keep, they quickly vanished, and your mother ordered your maids to repack your belongings. If you ever were, you were no longer welcomed in King’s Landing and planned to return to Dragonstone within the night. Part of you thought you would be relieved at the notion of ending your stay abruptly, seeing as you never wanted to return in the first place, yet you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment in the pit of your stomach as you helped Edwina collect your belongings.
The magnitude of the situation engulfed you, leaving you unable to carry on with your duties. While the other maids of the Keep merely cast fleeting glances in your direction, Edwina, your lady-in-waiting, observed your distress with sincere concern.
“Your Highness, are you feeling well?” Edwina asked as she finished folding a pearl and turquoise dress into your trunk.
As you nodded, you offered her a weak, forced smile, which resembled more of a grimace. Your eyes quickly darted towards your weathered, old wooden wardrobe. You couldn’t quite remember if it was positioned in the same spot as it had been six years ago.
“I am,” you sighed, walking to the balcony doors. These were not welded shut as you pressed the handle. “The day has been tiresome, and now we must depart after being here for a mere breath. I want to take a moment of solace.”
She gazed at you with a weary expression, her eyes filled with apprehension, as she observed you making your way to the overlook. As you breathed the fresh air, recollections of the last time you were on a balcony flashed before Edwina. Still, her anxiety gradually subsided as she noticed you choosing to sit on a stone bench rather than the railing.
The imposing walls of the Red Keep emanated a chilling aura that seemed to seep into your very marrow. The unknown secrets concealed within its ancient stones caused an involuntary shiver to run down your spine. You couldn’t help but wonder what tales they would tell if given the chance.
Would they reveal the long-buried truths about your family’s past and confirm the whispers surrounding your lineage? Would they speak with a tender understanding as they recounted the night of your most profound sorrow? Or perhaps they would steadfastly guard their secrets, refusing to yield to any interrogation.
It almost felt as if the walls were already whispering, hoarding their enigmatic knowledge until the distant future when they would finally crumble and release their concealed truths.
You longed for a glimpse into Aemond’s formative years and the events that molded him into the individual he is today, these red stone walls witnessed. Understanding the circumstances of his upbringing would clarify the questions that troubled your mind concerning the correspondence you penned. You held onto the hope that he read them, but uncertainty clouded your thoughts.
The heavy doors to the chambers of your childhood bedroom swung open with a resounding clang as the guard stationed outside announced the arrival of Queen Alicent. Your maids bowed as the formidable, angular figure of the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms entered the sanctity of your bedroom. You could not refuse her presence in this private space despite your reluctance.
“Your Majesty,” you greeted, rising from your seat. Refusing to give her any more pleasantries that would be customary, you observed the maids leave, Alicent’s round amber eyes focused on you.
“Won’t you come inside, princess? I wish to speak with you after all these years,” she humbly requested.
You understood it was a command and acquiesced. A part of you wanted to be obstinate and force her to meet you in the cold late winter air, but the courtly manner instilled within you since birth prevailed as you gently shut the hickory-framed balcony doors.
“Sit.”
Alicent gracefully motioned towards the inviting, opulent settee in front of the crackling fire, asserting her ownership of the space with a subtle yet commanding gesture. Despite the prickling sensation of anxiety coursing through your skin, you obediently followed her lead, attempting to conceal your unease. With a deep, almost wistful sigh, she fixed her gaze upon you, exuding an affectionate warmth that reminded you of your mother, and tenderly placed her delicate palm on your hand. Struggling to suppress the instinct to pull away, you grappled with conflicting emotions.
The hush that filled the space between you stretched on, heavy and suffocating, yet the Queen remained oblivious to its weight. To her, your company was a balm after enduring years shrouded in darkness without her guiding radiance.
“I wanted to apologize for Aemond’s behavior this evening. ‘Twas unbecoming of him,” she began, a prominent frown on her plump lips. “These grievances from childhood have gone unjust for so long that his anger has consumed him.”
Nodding grimly, you focused on the hearth, the orange and blue flames dancing with the moaning drafts. “Indeed. Jace, Luke, and I were not always kind to him growing up, but we did not know any better. We followed Aegon around like newborn pups until...”
“I know, my light. Perhaps an apology could soothe Aemond’s wounds?” she comforted, smoothing the unruly strands of your updo. You apologized years ago for your part in his torment, but you didn’t believe your brothers would extend the courtesy, nor would you change Aemond’s blackened heart. “You’ve grown so much in years past. I mourn not being able to be there to guide you.”
You sat there, not saying a word, and responded with a noiseless, polite, yet uneasy smile. You carefully withdrew your hand from hers, and to mask the action, you casually scratched the back of your neck, noticing the sensation of the tiny strands of hair beneath your fingertips.
“My letters? Did you get them?” Alicent questioned, desperate to prolong any contact with you.
You were unsure how to answer, knowing it would be unwise to tell her outright that you did but didn’t answer out of malice. For six years, Queen Alicent was left to stew with her thoughts and illusions, and you worried that if you conflicted them, she would become as unstable as she did the night of Driftmark.
“I was worried what my mother would say should she discover them, so I never wrote.” You supposed telling her part of the truth wouldn’t be a lie. You were concerned about what your mother would do if she found out you wrote to Alicent, but you still had no desire to speak to her.
She looked at you with sympathy, coming to caress the plumpness of your face with her knuckle. It seemed as if she couldn’t become close enough to you. “I see. I’m sorry you must endure that, but you are here now. Together once more.”
What could you say to her and still keep the pleasantries? After everything that happened, from Aegon to Driftmark, you no longer held Queen Alicent in the same regard. The conversation did not come easily, and you could tell she noticed.
“Rhaenyra plans to return on the morrow once she sees your family home. I would like you to come with her. You’ve barely just arrived, and Helaena would enjoy more time with you. She and I would love for you to meet the twins,” she smiled, sounding so hopeful it caused a pit in your stomach. “You and Aemond were friends before he lost his eye. I understand he seems to have changed greatly since you last saw him, yet I feel that the goodness inside him will prevail over time,” the Queen retook your hand, disregarding your obvious discomfort, “with you by his side.”
Stare growing wide, you turned to Alicent, feeling a panic beat inside your chest like the wings of a dragon. “What do you mean?”
Was the Queen still so desperate to have you join her family?
She gave you the briefest of smiles as she tilted her head, studying your countenance as if you were some holy text. You changed as much as Aemond in Alicent’s eyes, yet she knew you were still hers. No distance or time could break the cord that tethered her to you. You were back home where you belonged, and although she was happy to be united with Rhaenyra, she would not let her dream be taken from her once more.
“No person knows one’s child better than their mother. I saw how he looked at you, eye never trailing too far from yours, poised to protect your honor. I worried I would witness a fight between Aemond and Aegon when he took you to dance,” she confessed. Your breath quickened, and you felt relief knowing what you felt wasn’t inside your head.
“You want me to return to King’s Landing so Aemond and I…” You couldn’t say it aloud; words stuck in your throat.
“Yes,” Alicent grinned, showing perfectly white teeth as she brought you close. Instinctively, she pulled your head into the crook of her neck, smelling her distinctive scent as she rubbed circles across your back. It was still the same frankincense after all these years, and you felt the fond memories of time spent with Alicent come flooding back.
The tea times filled with sweets, laughter, and smiles entered your mind until it was replaced with the sound of Aemond’s scream, blood dripping from your mother’s wrist. You could not bring yourself to part from the Queen out of fear of what she would do. Alicent seemed so happy, yet you could sense the undercurrent of instability should you suddenly reject her affections. There was no choice but for you to accept whatever she wanted if it meant that there would be no more animosity between your families.
“I will confer with the king before bed and inform your mother when you return. This is a joyous occasion for us, my light,” she said, pulling your body impossibly tighter as you felt your hidden face contort into a weary grimace.
You loved Aemond after all these years, but you held an uncertainty about whether he would overcome his grudges for the good of your House, and that did not account for whether your mother would agree to the proposal. She refused for you to marry into the Greens before, and with you being her heir, she might use you as all people did to their daughters, though you hoped you would be allowed to have some choice. Even if this wasn’t one, you desired to wed Aemond, if not out of love, but to secure peace between the two warring factions and your mother’s inheritance.
Suddenly, the shared door to your childhood chambers opened and unexpectedly revealed your twin. Jace stood there breathless, not expecting you to have a visitor as he observed you tucked within the Queen’s embrace. He noticed the uneasy expression on your visage, brown eyes flicking from you to her, unsure what to do.
At the acknowledgment of Jace’s presence, Alicent released you without a word, smoothing her structured gown with an air of cold indifference that enveloped her as she stood.
“Sleep well, Princess,” she dismissed with a gentle nod. The necklace of the Seven-Pointed Star resting on her chest glittered in the candlelight as she left, not sparing a glance at your brother.
You and Jace did not speak. He was too stunned to see you and Alicent in a shared embrace, especially after what happened in the dining hall. That person shaped Aemond into the man he is today, sculpting the fresh clay of his mind into despising his niece and nephews.
“What did she want?” Jace finally decided to ask with a defensive stance on his thin body.
Sighing, you held your temples in your palms, a dejected sensation coming over you like a shroud. What could you say to him? The truth, you supposed. You never lied to your twin, but this did not feel like something you could tell him, especially after what occurred tonight. He would be upset at the notion and run to tell your mother.
“She apologized for Aemond’s behavior at supper,” you answered with exhaustion, the day’s turmoil finally taking its toll. You faced the trauma of your past without preparation and watched a man’s head get sliced clean through. You deserved to take a moment’s rest.
Jace’s dark brows furrowed, more questions than answers coming to mind as he approached your slouched form. Typically, you would lean into his presence like no others, seeking comfort only your blood could give. At this moment, it did not feel right to do so. The past, present, and future hung heavy on your soul.
“You were embracing her,” your twin stated, which seemed to disgust him. “Where do you think Aegon and Aemond learned their behaviors?”
Standing with a groan of annoyance, you paced to your partially packed clothes trunk, attempting to find anything to distance yourself from Jace’s pointed interrogation. “Yes, brother. When one apologizes, they tend to form some connection to express their sincerity.”
Jace scoffed, his lean body swiftly following your steps. “Are you unwell? Since the hearing, you’ve been cold with me.”
“And why do you suppose that is?” you spun with a bark, eyes wide with vexation. Jace said not a word, curling his lips to wet them in anxiety. You knew he knew the reason but couldn’t understand why your brother refused to act as if nothing changed. “The future we grew up believing together is now nothing but a childish fantasy. Do you not comprehend how that makes me feel? To live with one thing so constant in life only for it to be ripped away in mere moments?”
Silence decorated the room, leaving the only sound to be the crackling of the roaring fire and thumping of your broken heart. Tears burned your nose, flowing down your cheeks in a salty mixture of scorn and sadness.
“I understand that you feel as upturned as I do, but you have someone to love and hold in your life. Something that can give you that certainty in your life only it can. I…” your voice broke, filled with emotions that threatened to drown you. “I now have to find that something—to navigate a world full of men who will lie, betray me, and think themselves worth more than they are so that they may reach ultimate power. I will become a prize to win rather than someone’s daughter, someone who lives and breathes and has desires of her own.”
Jace could see you spiraling, sinking into a pit of melancholy he feared you would not crawl out of. He realized he hadn’t stopped to think about what you could genuinely be feeling. It was given that you felt the same shock, rage, and disappointment he did, but beyond that, he hadn’t considered what this meant for your relationship or future.
To have someone be your first in everything and grow up with the idea that they would also be your last stunted emotional and social growth with others. Jace was given the comfort of knowing who would be his new end, but you weren’t afforded the luxury. A selfish part of him hoped you would never find someone in this sense. You were his sister. He realized this was the ego of a self-centered man speaking, not the brother you cherished with your body and soul.
Not knowing how to improve this impossible situation, Jace brought you close, holding your sobbing form in his familiar arms. He felt your fingers clench his tunic as you attempted to ground yourself. Tears soon fell from his dark lashes and onto your crown. You looked at him with matching sorrow, instinctively stroking the soft bone of his cheek in the manner you knew simultaneously weakened and emboldened him.
Sleep did not come easy to Aemond on this night despite the intense wine he drank at dinner to ease his soul. How could the Prince find sleep after what happened? After he was forced to sit and break bread with the people who altered his life forever? You were never his family, yet thoughts of your shared youth and camaraderie infected his mind like grayscale. It loomed over him like dark clouds beckoning a storm.
Alicent, his mother, whom he cherished dearly, cowered in her beliefs at the mere notion that her long-lost friend gave even the slightest acknowledgment. She impressed upon Aemond, and his siblings Rhaenyra’s flaws and the sins she called children were abominations unfit to inherit the Crown. Now, after merely six years, none of that seemed to matter. He felt angry—betrayed. Was this not what his mother wanted of him? For Aemond to stand behind Aegon’s claim and their family regardless of the web, Rhaenyra spun around her.
The sting of tears sprung in his violet eye, but Aemond quickly willed them to stop by replacing them with his fury. He was not weak. He held the family together, and you were not the family his mother claimed you to be. Had it not been for your kin’s unprecedented arrival, all would be as it should be. A father he longed for attention from but never got, on the Stranger’s door, his brother drowning himself in his cups instead of your presence, and you, far across Blackwater Bay on Dragonstone, living a life you were undeserving of. Aemond did feel slightly vindicated when he saw your ghostly expression when Princess Rhaenys stated Jacaerys’s betrothal.
The Prince understood then that your life was capsizing, but at least you still had two plain, working eyes.
His ire was no longer contained, and his mind continued to reel, boiling over until he threw the bedsheets from his tense body and dawned a nightshirt. Aemond hated you. He loathed you and was not one to leave a conversation without the upper hand as he left his chambers, slinking into one of Maegor’s secret passages.
It was involuntary how Jace’s body responded to yours, your touch so familiar it was impossible not to succumb to the sins of the past as your moist lips met. Heat ignited inside your loins as it did his, your hands winding themselves inside his choppy hair, barely taking a minute to breathe. You were unsure who was the first to disrobe the other, grabbing one another’s buckles and strings until there was nothing but air between your hot flesh.
“We shall say goodbyes to our previous beliefs tonight, Jace. I shall not be your whore and sister,” you declared against his cheek as you lowered him onto your childhood bed. “Nor shall you be mine. I respect your union far more than that.”
“And I yours,” Jace quickly replied with a strained grunt, settling his cock between your wet folds as you rocked yourself to full arousal.
It would be difficult for both of you to navigate new bodies for the first time again, to find what made the other person curl their toes in abandon. For Jace, you knew how he loved the way it felt to be inside you to the fullest extent and saw how his older sister rode him to take her pleasure. For you, Jace knew that the little nub at the top of your silt was the epicenter for the majority of your pleasure, teasing the thing with his mouth, tongue, digits, and whatever else he could to see you so grateful for him.
You suddenly longed for your twin despite being in his presence, reminding yourself of your torturous time apart as you leaned forward, devouring his pouty lips and balancing yourself to become one. Your slick walls welcomed Jace inside like they were his home, feeling the head brush against the sensitive spot deep inside, the pair of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you began to move with gradual and firm movements of your hips. Each grind and lift of your body slowly bloomed ecstasy between your thighs, using your hands and core to savor yet heighten the experience to reach that inevitable peak.
Aemond expected you to be alone, or at the very least, with a maid when he reached the destination Aegon had shown him. He did not ask how his brother knew of such things, though the answer was clear. Whatever semblance of a plan Aemond conjured on his march through the damp tunnels was abruptly extinguished once he heard your girlish cries—loathing to admit it aloud, the Prince’s ire softened at the noise. He grunted, poised to open the wall and have him be the reason you wailed, but he ceased his movements at the deep timbre that comforted your sorrows.
It was Jace. The beloved brother you would willingly give up your life for, holding you within his arms as you sobbed. The sight flared his nostrils and sent a burning sensation to his stomach that he tried to ignore.
It was expected that your twin would be in your bed chambers. Aemond knew of the rumors surrounding your closer-than-normal sibling relationship. While it wasn’t seen as taboo in Targaryen customs, the common folk who practiced the Faith certainly would see it as a sin if they knew.
The One-Eyed Prince stood silently in the dim recesses concealed behind the rough-hewn stone wall. His breath barely made a sound as he cautiously pried it open enough to glimpse the unfolding scene. A flicker of annoyance shot through him at the thought of Jace unexpectedly discovering his presence. He stifled the urge to groan, focusing instead on the poignant sobs that echoed through the air.
Before him were the illegitimate children of his half-sister, caught in their web of delusions, seemingly convinced that they could escape the relentless strains of duty that had ensnared so many before them. Aemond watched with disdain and pity, realizing they were blissfully unaware of the sacrifices the world demanded of them in exchange for power and prestige. You and your brother sat huddled together, your voices trembling thick with emotion as you expressed the despair of being forced into marriages with people you barely knew, let alone desired.
Aemond’s gaze narrowed as he observed your youthful faces, illuminated by the waning light flickering with the candles. Your immaturity was evident. The rawness of your feelings revealed how little you understood the harsh realities of noble life. It was a bitter irony, this burden, the necessity of sacrificing personal happiness for strategic alliances. The weight of such obligations pressed heavily on your shoulders, a burden that felt especially crushing in your youthful naivety.
Embraces soon turned to caresses, which morphed into kisses as he observed Jace untie the laces of your crimson gown. Aemond felt his stomach lurch, the involuntary fear of the events being nonconsensual guiding his sudden urge to protect you. He halted his movements as he watched you disrobe your brother, blood draining from his heart and into his cock when he saw your naked form.
The womanly figure he saw within the courtyard was able to be admired. The slope of your elongated neck that still held your necklace led down to your two perfect mounds of flesh, rounded and shaped almost to the teardrops that sparkled on your skin—a soft place to rest your head in comfort. Curves and rolls decorated the rest of your body as he watched you move in time with Jace, bestowing upon Aemond the perfect view of your hips that were sturdy and plush, housing a womb to bear your future husband’s children.
Your body was a picture of the Maiden, Aemond mused, feeling his cheeks heat with growing desire. You were a depiction of a woman, so soft and plump, a perfect contrast that would fit with his muscular and sinewy body. The Prince could imagine your stomach stretched with a child and breasts full of milk as they leaked through pert nipples and onto his tongue.
The shame Aemond felt at thinking such things of his bastard niece warred in his mind, logic battling with lust as his breeches became too tight. He refused to succumb to his sinful desires and embraced the pain of his longing.
A flicker of callow hope lingered in the shadowy corners of Aemond’s mind as if clinging to the possibility that the gossip regarding you and your twin was nothing but a cruel fabrication. He wrestled with the notion of you as a sensual being, a struggle deepened by the haunting memories of Aegon’s transgressions against you. Like the common folk, he had unknowingly fallen prey to a comforting illusion—seeing you as a paragon of virtue, a righteous martyr navigating the treacherous waters of adolescence with grace and fortitude.
To him, you were a pure maiden, your spirit untainted, who had bravely borne the trials and tribulations that beset young women, emerging with a noble resolve. The small childish part of Aemond wanted to believe you had sworn off the temptations that often ensnared others, choosing instead a path marked by selflessness and a profound commitment to righteousness. This image of you, painted in broad strokes of light and virtue, had unwillingly taken root in his mind, making the idea of you as anything other than an emblem of purity feel surreal and disconcerting.
The Prince noiselessly grunted in agony as his manhood painfully beat against the confines of his trousers, only for it to be swallowed by the soft sounds unique to only sex. He childishly hoped that he would be the man to break his imagined vow of chastity you took, but now he realized how much of a fantasy it was as he watched you take your twin’s cock between your glistening folds.
Jace was the only thing that felt right to you today, like the embrace of a loved one you hadn’t seen in years. Your hip movements were practiced as they held the knowledge of what made your brother’s abdomen clench in ecstasy. You could feel your brother’s hands on you, so gentle, tender, and loving, having nothing of the malice your uncle carried today.
Seeing Aemond now a man instead of the wide-eyed boy you knew stirred something within you that you had pushed aside earlier, igniting a fire you had never known existed in your soul. You imagined him here now and what it would be like to feel his manhood nestled so profoundly within you that there was no end. While you enjoyed the recognizable feeling of Jace and his delicateness, now that you had gotten a taste for the depravity of your uncle in his place, you found your movements daunting. Your knees began to ache, and your thighs started to burn, abruptly extinguishing the pleasure that was blossoming in your core.
This had never happened before, and you pushed yourself to continue, crashing that high that was always promised at the end.
Praying that Jace did not notice, you leaned forward as you attempted to lose yourself in his kiss, stroking the sides of his visage. The more you moved, the more discouraged you became, resorting to seeking your pleasure with your own hands as you rubbed at your pearl, but nothing worked.
Frustration overshadowed any fulfillment. Your ministrations and Jace’s cock felt like an intrusion into your walls. Faking your release would not end this once-enjoyed act, and you steeled yourself to ensure this would be over soon.
You felt terrible for Jace. You knew he would stop at his detriment to ensure you were well, but you refused to utter the reason behind why your body had become so ineffective.
“You feel so good, brother. I need you to…” The dryness in your mouth halted your lies as you concealed it with a look of satisfaction. “I need you to finish. I’m so close.” Jace was none the wiser, too lost in pleasure as he profusely nodded.
It was painfully evident to anyone who glanced your way that you had lost interest in the moment. Your posture was rigid, and your eyes were clouded with discontent. Aemond couldn’t help but feel a troubling sense of satisfaction at that realization as if he had uncovered a hidden complexity in the situation.
Your brother, Jace—the very same person you always believed understood you on a deeper plane—remained blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling within you. His gaze lingered on your face, but it lacked the perceptiveness needed to grasp the subtle but clear signs of your unhappiness.
Aemond’s thoughts raced. If only he were in his nephew’s shoes, he would have sensed the disturbance immediately. Unlike Jace, who seemed consumed by his emotions, Aemond had a keen intuition that allowed him to read the room with sharp clarity. He would not have focused on the fleeting pleasure of the moment. Instead, he would have delved beneath your act, seeking to uncover the reasons behind your discontent. Aemond envisioned himself beneath you, looking up at your flushed body with the intent of understanding the causes of your spiral, eager to address your needs and reignite the spark of ecstasy that once illuminated your expression.
If only…
Though it was mere minutes, it felt like hours, and you squeezed and loosened yourself around your twin’s cock, milking him in a way that would cause him fulfillment. He tried to stop you, taking hold of your plump hips as you continued.
“Stop, sister. You haven’t… fuck…” Moving his palms to your breasts, you took control, sweat running down your neck from exertion as Jace struggled to keep himself from releasing.
He was helpless. Toes curling and stomach clenching as you quickly lifted yourself off, stroking his pink shaft in place of your womanhood. Spurts of his pearlescent seed left from his pink tip and onto his waist and your hand, biting his lower lip in an attempt to silence his grunts of satisfaction as you slowed your movements so as not to overwhelm him. Jace’s heart raced inside his chest like a horse’s hooves as he came down from his high, fidgeting his legs and bringing your body up to kiss him. You did not mean to torture him, but it was finally done, and that was a relief in itself as you laid down beside him, stroking his hot torso.
“You did not peak,” Jace began with a pout, moving himself to settle his body between your legs. “Let me make up for it.”
Inhaling a deep breath, you shook your head, pulling him up to rest beside you again. “There’s no need, brother. Your pleasure is enough to satisfy me,” you lied, stroking the choppy strands of his short hair behind his ear. He stared at you skeptically as you felt disgusted with yourself at the smell of sex in your bed chambers, causing revulsion to churn in your stomach. “Edwina will be back soon, and while I trust her, we do not need to risk another tongue-lashing from Mother. You are to be married soon and must be in her good graces. Come. Let me clean you.”
Jace sighed, slumping over his drying seed as you poured your drinking water into a bowl and gathered a cloth to wipe his stomach. You engrossed yourself in the action as you were too ashamed to speak, though your brother couldn’t possibly hate you more than you already did.
Without many words between you, you helped him dress, throwing over an appropriate dress slip, smiling, and bestowing him fleeting touches not to have him worry. It was evident that Jace understood something was wrong, but the consequences for you and him, a betrothed man discovered in a compromising position, far outweighed any concerns.
“Mother wants us ready to depart back to Dragonstone within the hour. We mustn’t waste any more time,” you ordered Jace in the way only you could, as he nodded.
Before he closed the door to your adjoining childhood chambers, he gave you one last kiss, saying farewell to the childish dreams of a future together.
“I love you,” he stated. You gave him a bittersweet smile in return.
“And I you, more than the Gods allow.”
Shutting the door behind him, you locked it, countenance dropping from the neutral expression to one of despair, sobs breaking from between your lips as you balanced yourself against the warm hearth.
The world around you felt utterly ruthless and deeply unjust, a suffocating weight pressing down on your heart. You couldn’t shake the bitterness that churned within you, directed at the memories of your past with Jace. It was painful to reflect on the years you spent entranced by the fantasy of life together, imagining the vows you would exchange and the family you would build. The reality, however, was a far cry from those dreams, each illusion crumbling under the harsh light of truth.
Your mother’s actions echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain. It felt like she had orchestrated this betrayal all along, waiting for the opportunity to use her children. She wielded Jace and Luke as pawns, manipulating emotions to untangle her political complications, leaving you feeling forgotten and unutilized. In her quest to alleviate her burdens, your mother dismantled the very dreams you held dear, leaving you adrift in a sea of disappointment, grappling with the profound loss of a future you thought was within your grasp.
Through the haze of tears clouding your vision, you caught a glimpse of the wall beside your wardrobe, protruding ever so slightly as if it were hiding a secret. The air hung heavy with tension, and a chill ran down your spine. Only one person could be moving through the shadows of the Red Keep at this hour. Panic gripped your heart, tumbling down to your bare feet and leaving you frozen, an unwilling statue in the dim light.
As you willed your limbs to move, you shuffled awkwardly across the cold wooden floor, acutely aware that Aegon was most likely watching you. The door to your brother’s room and the hallway felt painstakingly far away. The only option left was the balcony, its railing looming like an unwelcoming edge over the moat of spikes encircling Maegor’s Holdfast.
The thought of plunging into those treacherous spikes sent a shiver through you. For now, hiding seemed your best chance. If you could buy yourself time, you might gain enough distance from Aegon to run to the hall full of guards.
With a whisper of dread, you crawled beneath your bed, the coarse dust and sticky cobwebs clinging to your dress and skin like the entrapments of a forgotten cellar. The muffled thud of footsteps echoed from the far wall, sending shivers down your spine as you watched Aegon’s boot enter your chambers, its polished leather glinting ominously in the dim light. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, a frantic drum of terror, as he paused at the foot of your bed, the air thick with unspoken tension.
With a sinking feeling, you covered your eyes with trembling hands, desperately praying to the Seven for Edwina’s swift return, but your silent plea hung unanswered around you. You heard Aegon grunt softly, the sound unsettling as he shuffled closer, his heavy shoes brushing against the stone floor. Every nerve in your body was taut with fear as you felt his gaze sweep beneath the bed, searching for you in the shadows.
A firm hand clamped around your arm, jolting you with a scream that echoed in the stillness. As your eyes fluttered open, you were met not with Aegon’s familiar, cropped hair but with a cascade of silver locks flowing down a lithe figure. Aemond knelt before you, his intense gaze focused and calculating as he studied your trembling form. The tension in the air hung heavy around you, amplifying the fear pulsing through your veins. You felt the warmth of his grip as he observed you, the world around fading into a blur, leaving only the sharp clarity of his presence.
Aemond found it almost laughable that you thought cowering beneath the bed, like a frightened child, could shield you from the world outside. He noted how a part of your gown, delicate and flowing, peeked out. In comparison, some of him relished his power to instill fear in you. A more profound understanding stirred within him as he noted your quivering lips, brows arched in fright. It wasn’t merely his presence that had regressed you to this vulnerable state. The haunting memory echoed in your mind whenever you lay in the stillness of twilight.
He recalled, in vivid detail, the night Aegon had violated you—a night marred by betrayal and anguish. You had confided in him, recounting how his older brother lured you through the shadowy tunnels with sweet promises of a secret just for you. The realization struck Aemond like a dagger. Your reaction was rooted in that traumatic experience, a natural response to the horror you had endured. Yet, as those memories surfaced, they ignited a fierce anger within him that dulled his compassion and overshadowed his instinct to comfort.
“If you’re here to hurt me, know that my Lady will be here any moment,” you whispered, tears glistening on your cheeks. The Prince felt transported back in time, seeing your girlish face before him like it had not aged from when you crawled into his bed and shared your first kiss.
“I have no want for depravity,” Aemond announced, releasing your arm. He rose from his crouched position but did not leave your room. This reminded him of the night you came to sleep in his chambers for this very reason, and he felt his black heart lighten at the tremble of your frightened voice.
“Then why are you here?” You were so weak and pathetic, nothing like the strong dragon you had portrayed yourself to be hours prior.
Aemond sighed through his nose, seemingly exhausted from the conversation, sitting on the mattress above you as it creaked. “I’ve come to finish our conversation from earlier,” he declared casually with the cross of his leg. “Won’t you spare me the dignity of discussing such matters face to face?”
“I am quite content down here,” you quipped with a sniffle, fear still controlling your actions. “Say your piece.”
You heard him chuckle from above, a smirk no doubt on his features. “My brother will not harm you. He’s off to the Silk Streets at this very moment, drowning himself in wine and women,” the Prince offered in consolation. He hoped to get you out from under the bed, but he did find the situation amusing.
“I pity them. Do you blame me for being so cautious after what happened tonight?” You wanted to prolong this momentary peace even if it was surrounding the gossip of another. “How Aegon so shamelessly flouted about the room? You saw how he acted, Aemond.”
“You are not innocent in the matter either, niece,” Aemond hummed as you covered an offended scoff. “If I recall, your dear twin took his wife and flouted about the room with her.”
Your fierce sense of injustice compelled you to wriggle out from beneath the bed, carefully brushing off the dust and specks of debris that had settled on your gown. It was a soft fabric that now seemed to bear the marks of your hiding place, but you paid it little mind. Aemond lounged atop your rumpled bed sheets, occupying your space with an air of casual superiority as if he belonged there.
His loosely draped clothing accentuated his figure, and you found it challenging to divert your gaze from the exposed expanse of his collarbones. The pale sheen of his skin contrasted starkly with the messiness of the room, momentarily captivating you and stealing your breath away. The atmosphere thrummed with an unspoken tension, drawing note to the uncharted territory between you.
“He-he touched me as if he did not tear my womanhood and make me bleed!” you exclaimed, a fresh wave of tears collecting at your dark lashes. “And you were there, uncle. You watched it happen. Do you not recall your promise made on a night such as this? Would you protect me from him so long as I was by your side? I am here before you.”
Aemond’s face was impassive, a blank stone carved with only his features. “You couple with your brother, and yet you are the one to lecture me? You’re a whore.”
You knew it was only a matter of time before he spoke about what he saw in the shadows, but having it brought to light did not ease the knot of shame within your stomach.
“Whatever insults you have conjured up, know that I’ve already thought of them myself,” you braced, attempting to build a wall around your heart. Despite the difference in position, Aemond sitting in what would be a submissive manner, you felt like the lesser one, embracing your torso in self-consolation.
The Prince remained unnervingly quiet, his expression a hardened mask of arrogance. Shadows danced across his chiseled features as the dim light caught the high curve of his cheekbones and the sharp line of his jaw. He tilted his head slightly, allowing his moonlit hair to fall just enough to enhance his regal demeanor. A deep, resonant hum emerged from his throat, filling the air with a somber melody that seemed to echo the weight of unspoken thoughts. His eyes, usually filled with a fierce brightness, now held an undercurrent of fear—a fear that crept in like a shadow. He was aware that if he broke this silence, his voice might waver, revealing the regret that festered within him.
Aemond feared you would hear the tremor of the boy he once was, the dragonless child who had craved approval and affection and still felt the sting of past failures. The thought of you seeing him in such a vulnerable light sent a shiver of apprehension through him, driving him to maintain his proud appearance.
“I have been told since birth that Jace was to be my husband, yet now the foundations of my life have been uprooted because of one man’s ambitions,” you argued, feeling your body flush with anger instead of this dreadful sadness. “I feel like a fool for doing such things. I understood it was wrong at the time, yet this part of me was so bent on taking back something stolen from me. To prove to myself that sex was not about pain and control but something to enjoy.”
“All people succumb to sins of the flesh,” Aemond replied. It was a bland reply that showed little sympathy for you, but you expected nothing less from him. You were grateful enough that he hadn’t closed the conversation off so that only his wrath spoke.
Inhaling a stuttered breath, you wiped away the water that soaked your skin, a futile attempt at returning your dignity. “Men can fuck as they please without the stigma that surrounds women. If they fault and dabble with the flesh, it’s considered nothing more than their culture. When I am queen-”
“Aegon took me to a brothel when I was three and ten,” Aemond interrupted your tirade, causing you to pause with dissatisfaction, coloring your features. “He said, ‘Time to get it wet.’ I didn’t want to, but he paid the brothel Madame good coin, and I was forced to endure to show my brother that I was a man like him.” The fire within you softened, the tense muscles of your body deflating in empathy at his confession. “You are not the only one subjected to hypocrisy. I was supposed to enjoy it like a man, but all I felt was disgust.”
Perhaps it was the rich, intoxicating wine that Aemond had been consuming, or maybe the insidious notion that he held a threat over your head compelled him to confide in you. His revelations were not born out of genuine concern for you but reflected your insignificance in his eyes.
That was the reason, nothing more.
He did not regard your thoughts or feelings as worthy of consideration. After all, a Prince of his stature would not be so vulnerable as to divulge his most profound shame to his illegitimate niece, expecting that with her bleeding heart, she would offer him understanding or solace.
Aemond carried the weight of the pig incident like a brand upon his soul, an indelible memory that refused to fade. The sting of Aegon’s words lingered in his mind, a fresh wound that festered even after losing his eye to Lucerys, a brutal reminder of his vulnerability.
The image of Aegon loomed ominously in his memories, particularly the night in the brothel, where the air was thick with the stench of spilled wine and sweat. Aegon’s skin glistened with an unappealing stickiness, the remnants of revelry clinging to him as he towered over Aemond, his posture a hazy blend of mockery and drunken arrogance. Beneath the veil of alcohol swirling in his veins, Aegon’s cruel laughter cut through the air, sharp and unforgiving, each word a fresh dagger aimed directly at Aemond’s heart. The echoes of that taunting laughter haunted him, a bitter reminder of the pain inflicted by the very brother who should have stood by his side.
“Ensure that you stay perfectly still, brother. We don’t want you to miss it.”
You exhaled slowly, a deep sigh laced with a sense of melancholy as a rush of emotions threatened to spill over. The fresh start of tears hovered beneath the surface, their warmth urging to escape, but you clenched your jaw and willed them to remain hidden, trapped within your mouth.
Aemond sat before you, his expression hardened and his stance resolute. He did not welcome sympathy or pity. Those sentiments would isolate him further, pushing him deeper into his turmoil. What Aemond truly needed—more than any platitude about family values—was someone who could listen and sense the heavy shadows lurking behind his guarded words. He craved understanding, a connection that transcended judgment, a safe space to unburden his heart without fear of condemnation or lectures. At that moment, all he needed was an empathetic ear, ready to hear him amidst the chaos of his thoughts.
“Aegon is vile. A part of me hoped he would spare you from his cruelty, though I should have known. His mind is twisted and barbarous and holds no honor. You know this as I do,” you preached.
The longing to embrace Aemond was overwhelming, a fierce yearning that coiled tightly within you, causing your fingers to flex and relax in a restless rhythm. You understood the delicate nature of his emotions, aware that a sudden move could send him retreating into the impenetrable and cold fortress he had constructed around his heart. With that thought in mind, you opted for a tentative approach, positioning yourself at a respectful distance on the plush feather mattress, allowing the space between you to serve as a shield and a bridge in this intricate dance of intimacy and caution. The softness of the mattress cradled your form, yet your heart raced with the desire to close that distance, to reach out and let him know how deeply you cared.
“Your mother spoke with me tonight. She wants me to return tomorrow with my mother and finally propose an engagement to unite our House.” You steadied your breath as you felt Aemond’s piercing, violet eye on you, his face turning into a mask. You could see his mind reeling at your proximity and your following words, trying to decipher what would come next.
“I owe my life to you for what you did for me. You stopped Aegon from debasing me further and became my friend despite how poorly I treated you,” your voice cracked with conviction as you reflected on the regrets of your childhood. “Accept this betrothal, and we will live out those childhood times again. You’ll be my husband and I, your wife, taking to the skies together like I promised. We will rule the Seven Kingdoms, and you will be king. Aegon will no longer hurt us.”
Your words were like honey in his ear, dripping from the comb full of its viscous sweetness and into his blood. The tension within your stomach began to morph into something different, something warm yet exhilarating, as you saw fierce emotion crack through the lines of his face.
Courage filled you, rattling your bones and lifting your muscles to cup the side of Aemond’s scarred cheek as you softly stroked the indented skin.
The surge of boldness that once ignited within you flickered and vanished, leaving a feeling of vulnerability that wrapped around you like a heavy cloak. Memories of the heartbreaking tragedies that life had heaped upon both of you flooded back, causing you to instinctively pull away, uneasy with the weight of it all. Yet, before you could fully retreat, Aemond’s hand closed around your wrist, his grip steady and unyielding, anchoring you to that fragile moment.
Your breaths hung suspended in the air as you found yourself lost in his gaze, two souls suspended in time, teetering on the brink of understanding. It felt as though you could plunge deep into the shadows of his thoughts, unraveling the secrets he kept buried within. The silence stretched around you, thick with unspoken words, and a part of you was terrified to break it, fearing that doing so might shatter the delicate tranquility that had settled between you.
Time ceased to exist. It was only you and your uncle, two souls that had once been connected and torn asunder by hate that erupted long before your conception. You felt the gravity of the situation pulling you towards Aemond, and he, you, no longer seeing the world around you. The candlelight shade danced across the aquiline sculpture of his visage, creating a haunting beauty compared to the soft, cherubic plumpness of your face, round with conviction and moist with tears.
The moment couldn’t last long enough as you felt your knee collide with Aemond’s, sending a jolt through your core that made your breath hitch. The hand on your uncle’s ridged thigh clenched, fingers digging into his muscle as you observed how the tendons rippled with the movement, sending a wave of heat to your skin. You were certain Aemond felt the same, too, with his cheeks and ears tinged pink, tongue poking out to briefly wet his lip as his violet eye flicked to your swiftly rising and falling breasts.
Without warning, the doors to your bed chambers opened with a clang, revealing the Lady Edwina you had prayed for earlier. You did not want to pull away from him but knew the consequences of being caught in an improper position with a man. Aemond gave you no choice, curling his lip in dissatisfaction as he tightened his grip on your arm, refusing to let you remove the warmth of your touch on his face.
It had been an eternity since he had felt the soothing warmth of a feminine embrace, a gesture that had become increasingly rare from his mother as the years had passed and he had grown older. The absence of that nurturing touch left a hollow ache in his heart. He craved the security and intimacy that such an embrace offered, and when you tried to pull away, he instinctively tightened his hold.
Edwina gasped with a quick “My Prince” as Aemond begrudgingly loosened his grip.
“Edwina, thank you for returning,” you said, voice cordial and gaze misty, “though I wish you would announce yourself.”
She curtsied, her cheeks scarlet. “Apologies, Your Highness.”
Sighing, you glanced at Aemond, who had a dark expression, half thinking he should order the maid away or have her quartered for insolence. Sensing his vexation, you stood, placing a hand on your uncle’s sturdy shoulder, and offered a weak grin.
“All is forgiven. My uncle and I just finished discussing, didn’t we?” Aemond grunted in response, following your movements and brushing off your kind gesture. “Sleep well tonight, Prince Aemond. Know that my thoughts are with you.”
He remained silent, his mask of the ruthless Prince falling perfectly back into place as he strode out of the room, leaving behind an oppressive air and not even a hint of a farewell. You sighed exasperated, rolling your eyes at the heavy doors as they swung shut with a resounding thud. Glancing over at your Lady, you caught her gaze, which held a deep, understanding glance that spoke volumes without the need for words. She surveyed your attire keenly before returning to her task of meticulously packing your belongings, her movements graceful yet methodical.
“Shall we summon the other maids?” Edwina asked with an airy shift in her tone that she acquired when in a jesting mood. She finally knew the answer as to who you so ardently sent ravens to in the Keep.
You offered a subtle nod, your gaze drifting to the elegant pitchers that adorned the polished writing table, each glinting softly in the dim light. With a graceful motion, you poured the deep crimson wine into a delicate glass, the rich aroma rising to meet you as it filled the vessel. The thought of leaving this stuffy gathering behind ignited a thrilling hope within you, quickening your heartbeat at the anticipation of returning to Aemond. The idea of being reunited with him filled you with an intoxicating sense of longing and excitement, making your pulse race with the promise of what was to come.
A profound sense of satisfaction enveloped Aemond as he walked through the torch-lit halls of the Keep. The flickering flames cast a warm glow, illuminating the intricacies of the stone walls that had witnessed countless secrets and whispered promises. The air was thick with the scent of burning resin and age-old timber, enhancing the atmosphere of history surrounding him.
As he stepped into his chambers, a serene calm washed over him, slowly releasing the tension from his muscles as if he were shedding a burdensome weight. A curious sensation flickered within his chest, akin to the rush of emotions he had felt when he first kissed you all those years ago—a moment forever etched in his memory. A grin stretched his thin lips, a blend of nostalgia and anticipation brightening his features.
He envisioned a future where you would stand proudly by his side as his wife, the thought filling him with warmth. The image of your hands intertwined and the promise of building a family together painted a vivid picture in his mind. In that profound moment, he realized that the sacred ties of marriage would firmly anchor your loyalties, binding your fates together in a covenant that would weather any storm, ensuring that your heart would forever belong to Aemond.
Princess Rhaenyra’s only daughter would be his.
Aegon’s ascension to the Iron Throne was inevitable, and he understood that accepting such a fact would put your new marriage to the test. The Prince convinced himself that in the end, you would love him and stay by his side, and that was enough for him to forget the vexation at his mother’s schemes and agree to the proposal. Mors Martell and Queen Nymeria, at last.
Though the war had not yet begun, Aemond felt a sense of victory swelling within him.
Masterlist of Series
Spotify Playlist
The reader really couldn't catch a break in this chapter. It was literally one trauma after another. XD I've debated putting in some smut scenes with Jace and the reader in the previous chapters, but it never felt right. They've definitely done it quite a few times, tho. In my head, they've accidentally had a pregnancy scare like Rhaenyra did, and that was one of the turning points to separate them and send the reader to Dorne. Anyways, Aemond is at the beginning of his Prince Regent Era with his arrogance, but oh boy. The man won't know what hit him in the following chapters... (◠‿・)—☆
WARNINGS: nothing nsfw, I left it for the next chapter 🤭, canon typical incest, anxiety etc. + not proofread
A/N: divider credits @cafekitsune, this is a short chapter but the next one is gonna be long and intense 🤭🤭
<- prev // masterlist // next ->
Your heart drummed loudly against your rib cage, each beat accompanied by a gasp of air as you stared into the emptiness of your chamber.
A dream— no, a memory.
Was this the original body's memory?
Is this body not yours?
It doesn't seem likely because this body has exactly all your features, each and every detail pasted right into itself, from your head to your feet; nothing was amiss.
A blanket of dullness washes over your body and you plop back down onto the mattress, hugging your cotton blanket and you laid sideways, pondering with curiosity as you thought about everything.
You have to apologise to Aemond.
Suddenly his hostility, hatred, sly remarks all made sense.
You mentally face palmed yourself.
How were you gonna save the plot or prevent war when knowing that you were the cause of major events?
Had it not been Viserys’ command, you would've been stuck deeper in the mess, his decision of marrying you and Aemond gave you a heads up.
Can you perhaps talk the greens out of it once you're Aemond's wife? Then again, if talking truly worked then there wouldn't be a show at all. You sigh heavily, closing your eyes before reopening them.
You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling before your eyes averted towards the window, noticing how it's still the heartbeat of the night. Going to Aemond's room would seem very scandalous at this hour; regardless of whether you're soon to be married.
And to make matters even more complicated; Alicent and Rhaenyra had caught you guys kissing. You wondered why Aemond kissed you in the first place so suddenly, was he containing his urge to kill through it? Most likely.
The sound of footsteps awoke you from your sleep, looking around to see none but the maids who were bringing in a bath and water for you to freshen up and get ready for the day.
You decide that you'd think of everything on the morrow, choosing sleep over restlessness, closing your eyes and waiting for the slumber to grab you down to its depths.
You zone out the process; having been used to it. Instead your mind now travelled to the matter at hand, which was also your main objective. You planned to go directly to Aemond and apologise, as stupid as it may sound you really had no other option before the situation got worse. At least by apologising you'll make him realise how sorry you are, which might console his inner conflict.
The maids finish touching you up. You waste no moment and immediately get off the stool, heading straight to the door and leaving your chambers.
You check the library where you first encountered him; to your surprise, he wasn't there. You then move onto the training grounds only for him to not be there either. You start wandering around the red keep in the search for him yet he seems nowhere to be found. The guards outside his room have also said that he had left his room in the morning.
You go to the garden, to the weirwood tree, hoping to find him there, yet he is nowhere.
Frustrated, you sit underneath the tree, huffing in annoyance and catching your breath. You grunt irritated; patience growing thin as time only passed with no signs of Aemond. You had searched practically everywhere. The sympathy you were feeling is slowly being replaced by exasperation.
You lean back against the tree, staring at the leaves.
It's moments like this that make you truly question your sanity and reconsider your situation. As much as you were a big fan of the show; being trapped in it isn't really ideal without any known way out. You sometimes miss your life before this.
How plain and simple it was, with no worries of a blooming war, you would work and just rest at home, cook your favourite meals by yourself, watch your favourite shows and then sleep. It's the simplicity you miss.
“I want to go back…” You say out loud, praying that the world would hear you and miraculously send you back home, however it doesn't happen; because if it did, why would you be here in the first place?
Your words were heard just not by the universe.
“You want to go back?” The voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you sit up straight, looking up at the figure who was now standing in front of you.
Aemond stood tall, with his hands behind his back, foot jutting out. Oh yes, his typical standing pose.
“Uhm, I- no? I don't—” You stutter not knowing what to say, you get up off the ground and stand straight, his gaze follows you, taking in your dress. His lips quirk up into a smirk.
You were wearing green.
“Your gown; it is quite beautiful.” He comments and you look down, not finding anything special about the plain material, “—especially, the colour.” He points it out, and that is when you realised that you were wearing green.
“The maids dressed me.” You imply slightly, indicating that you had no intention of wearing the colour of his family. He smiles mockingly, raising his eyebrows.
“You were looking for me?” He questions and you nod and take a deep breath, hoping the oxygen would calm your brain by magic but your nerves were still rampant.
You step closer to him, which he is taken aback by but doesn't move an inch. You look into his eye, your body now fueled up with the newfound determination of completing your goal.
“I apologise.” You choke out and Aemond frowns in confusion, “For the eye- the night, driftmark.” You stumble over your words unable to form coherent sentences as the previously felt anxiety blooms in your gut again.
Seriously, what is wrong with this body?
The atmosphere falls silent only being interrupted by the whispers of the wind blowing past both of you. Aemond opens his mouth to speak but he closes it immediately after; trying to find words that do not sound harsh as a response.
“Aemond.” His name left your mouth involuntarily and he snapped his gaze to you, he watched your form waiting for you to say something but you just stood there unable to speak, your tongue all tied up in your mouth, having no idea how to continue this conversation anymore.
“Aemond, I am sorry, I really am, I regret it; I didn't mean to hurt you, I was protecting jace- my brother; I never meant for any of this to happen— please.” Your voice croaks, breaking as your mouth begins to move on its own, the noise coming out of your throat— yet it wasn't you speaking, it wasn't you forming these words, they came from somewhere innate.
You grab his arm, eyes tearing up as you stare at him, searching for an ounce of forgiveness on his face, an expression of reassurance that can calm the brewing storm inside you. Your gut wrenched and turned as the silence only prolonged with every passing second the pit inside you became deep and deeper.
You didn't know what was going on, it was as if your body had a mind of its own; but it didn't feel that way. Although you felt like you were in the backseat watching it all happen; it also felt like you were the one that was operating as well.
“It was a cruel mistake, a mistake that ruined everything. Perhaps it is why the Gods have punished me, they put me in a state of death for years but never truly killed me. It was my punishment for that crime I have committed against an innocent boy. But was I not innocent too?” You stammered, your body shuddering out of control.
Aemond grabs your shoulders; a poor attempt at consoling you while you shivered, tears dripped down your face like streams of river, Aemond wiped them off, pulling you into him, engulfing in his embrace, holding your head as you sobbed into him.
He did not know how to react.
He did not expect any of this.
Yet he knew one thing, which he hated himself for, which he came to terms with just last night.
The fact that he had already forgiven you.
You both stand there like that for a moment, your cries dissipated from sobs to sniffs and that's when you pull away from the hug, staring at him back again.
Aemond tucked a stray hair strand behind your ear before resting his hand on your cheek, he didn't want to admit this to you but he had to; for his own sake— watching you cry felt like a thousand swords being pierced into his heart, he didn't want to see you like this anymore.
“You're forgiven.” Those two words left his mouth as he held you close and you did not know how much of an impact they'd have on you until you felt the pit in your stomach vanish completely as if it ceased to exist.
You felt calm.
Euphoric.
You felt lightheaded, the world spinning as you stared at him. You gave him a small smile in return, caressing his scar as your vision grew weary.
The last thing you remember seeing was Aemond's panicked expression before you completely blacked out.
The winds howl as Vermithor’s wings slice through the storm-laden skies above Storm’s End. Rain pelts your face, seeping into your armor, but you care little for the discomfort. Your focus is singular: Lucerys. Your younger brother and his dragon, Arrax, are locked in a desperate race to escape. Behind them looms death itself—Vhagar, the ancient, monstrous dragon ridden by your uncle, Aemond Targaryen.
Through the sheets of rain, you see the faint silhouette of Arrax struggling against the gale. Lucerys is just ahead, the boy’s form hunched low over his saddle, urging his dragon faster. And then you see it—a dark shadow, impossibly large, wings spanning the heavens. Vhagar.
Your blood runs cold, but you grit your teeth, leaning forward on Vermithor. The Bronze Fury beneath you snarls, sensing your determination. You pull at the reins, commanding him into a steep dive, cutting through the storm with the precision only a dragon of his caliber could manage.
“Vermithor, faster!” you urge, your voice barely audible over the roaring wind.
As you near the chase, the sight of Aemond on Vhagar’s back becomes clear. He is a dark specter amidst the storm, one sapphire eye gleaming like a beacon of malice. His lips curve into a cruel smirk as he spots you closing in.
"Well, what is this?" Aemond's voice booms through the storm, cold and mocking. "Another lamb come to the slaughter?"
“Let him go, Aemond!” you shout, your voice rising against the wind and rain. “He’s a child!”
Aemond laughs, low and humorless. “And you think you can stop me, niece? You have no idea what you face.”
But you do. You know the risk. Vhagar is older, larger, and more vicious than any dragon alive. And yet, you cannot let Lucerys die. Your hands tighten on the reins as Vermithor bellows a challenge, his roar shaking the very stormclouds around you.
“Dracarys!” you scream, and Vermithor answers. A stream of fire bursts from his maw, cutting through the rain and illuminating the sky. Vhagar twists, her massive wings flapping once, twice, and she evades the flames with an ease that makes your stomach drop.
Aemond pulls Vhagar into a sharp ascent, taunting you. “Come, little dragon! Show me your fire!” His voice is laced with glee, the thrill of the hunt.
You don’t hesitate. “Up, Vermithor!” you command, and your dragon surges after them. The storm rages, lightning crackling dangerously close, but you hold fast. Every time Vhagar veers, you follow. Every time Aemond tries to outpace you, Vermithor matches him.
Below, you catch glimpses of Arrax and Lucerys disappearing into the clouds, fleeing toward safety. Relief floods you, but it is short-lived. Aemond has noticed as well.
“Is that your plan, little niece? Sacrifice yourself for your precious brother?” His voice is venomous, filled with disdain. “Fitting, I suppose. Two bastards for the price of one.”
The words sting, but you refuse to rise to his bait. Instead, you focus on the fight. Vermithor snarls, his claws extending as you near Vhagar. The two dragons clash mid-air, the force of their collision sending a shockwave through the storm. Vhagar’s massive tail lashes out, narrowly missing Vermithor’s wing. Vermithor counters with a slash of his claws, raking across Vhagar’s armored hide. The roar that follows shakes you to your core.
The rain blinds you, soaking through your hair and plastering it to your face, but you hold fast to the saddle and reins. Vermithor heaves under you, his muscles rippling as he strains against Vhagar’s might. The Bronze Fury bellows again, his jaws snapping dangerously close to Vhagar’s throat.
“Give up, niece!” Aemond’s voice carries through the storm, his words laced with cruel delight. “You cannot win against Vhagar!”
You do not answer. Instead, you lean forward, urging Vermithor closer. He responds with a feral roar, his claws slashing again and again at Vhagar’s flanks. Vhagar counters with a snap of her jaws, her teeth grazing Vermithor’s neck but failing to find purchase.
The dragons twist and turn in the air, their roars echoing across the storm-tossed skies. You can feel Vermithor’s rage, his unyielding determination to protect you, as he fights with every ounce of his strength.
And then it happens. Aemond shouts something to Vhagar, and the older dragon lashes out with a ferocity that catches Vermithor off guard. Her massive claws tear into his side, and you scream as Vermithor roars in pain. He falters, his flight unsteady.
“Vermithor, hold on!” you cry, desperation in your voice. You pull at the reins, trying to steady him, but the damage is done.
Vhagar circles above, triumphant. Aemond looks down at you, his face a mask of cruel satisfaction. “It’s over.”
But you’re not done. You refuse to be beaten. With a final burst of strength, Vermithor lunges upward, slamming into Vhagar with all his might. The force of the impact sends both dragons spiraling out of control, their wings entangled, their roars deafening.
You clutch the saddle with all your strength, your heart pounding as the world becomes a blur of storm clouds and dragon scales. Rain lashes at your face, and the wind tears at your armor, but you refuse to let go.
Then you see it—the ground rushing up to meet you, too fast to stop.
And then—impact.
Darkness. Silence.
Your body aches as awareness creeps back into you. Pain radiates through your limbs, your head pounding like a war drum. You groan, blinking against the rain that still falls in relentless sheets. Mud clings to your face, your armor slick with water and dirt. The world around you is a storm-shrouded haze, but you’re alive.
“Vermithor…” you whisper hoarsely, trying to sit up. Your body protests, but you force yourself upright. Through the blur, you see him—a massive bronze figure, sprawled but stirring. Vermithor shakes his great head, mud and rain cascading from his scales. He lets out a deep, guttural snarl that vibrates through the ground, his golden eyes locked on a shadow moving nearby.
Vhagar.
The ancient dragon groans as she begins to rise, her massive wings unfurling like the sails of a warship. Her scales glint in the lightning, battered but unbroken. For a moment, the two dragons face each other, their snarls echoing like thunder, primal and wild.
“Good boy…” you murmur, dragging yourself to your feet. Vermithor protects you still, standing like a shield between you and Vhagar. You stumble toward him, placing a hand on his warm, slick hide. “We’re not done yet.”
But before you can even draw your thoughts together, something slams into your back. You gasp as you’re thrown forward, landing hard in the mud. Hands seize your shoulders, flipping you over. Aemond.
His sapphire eye gleams with a dangerous light, his face twisted in fury as he looms over you. Rain pours down his pale hair, plastering it to his face, but his grip on you is unyielding. “You just don’t know when to stop, do you?” he growls, his voice low and venomous.
You thrash beneath him, your hands pushing against his chest, but he pins you down with ease, the weight of his armor pressing into you. “Get off me, Aemond!” you spit, mud splattering as you struggle.
“Why?” he snaps, leaning closer. “So you can crawl back to your brother and play the hero again? So you can run back to Dragonstone and tell everyone how you bested the one-eyed prince?” His voice is filled with anger, but there’s something else there, something deeper.
“I’m not afraid of you,” you hiss, meeting his gaze with defiance. “You can call me a bastard, you can try to kill me, but you’ll never break me, Aemond.”
His eye narrows, his breathing ragged. “You think this is about your precious bloodlines?” he snarls. “You think I chase you and your kin for some fleeting sense of power? You’re wrong.”
For a moment, his hands falter, loosening just enough for you to shove him off. You scramble to your feet, wiping mud from your face. “Then what is it, Aemond?” you challenge, your voice cutting through the storm. “What do you want?”
He stands, rain cascading over his armor, his chest heaving as he glares at you. “You,” he says, the word ripped from him like a confession. His voice is raw, filled with years of suppressed emotion. “I’ve wanted you since we were children. And yet you stand there, defying me, fighting me at every turn!”
You freeze, his words hitting you like a blow. The rain seems to quiet, the world narrowing to just the two of you. “You’re mad,” you whisper, shaking your head.
Aemond steps closer, his voice lowering. “Am I? Or have you always known? You taunt me with your presence, your fire. Every look, every word… You’ve consumed me.” His eye burns with a mix of anger and something else—desire.
“You’re insane,” you repeat, though your voice wavers. You take a step back, your heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
Aemond follows, his movements slow, deliberate. “Am I?” he asks again, his tone softer now, almost pleading. “Tell me you haven’t felt it too. Tell me you don’t see it every time we cross paths.”
You hesitate, your breath catching. The storm rages around you, but his words strike deep, unsettling something you’ve long buried. “You’re my uncle,” you say finally, though it sounds more like an excuse than a declaration.
“And you’re my niece,” he counters, stepping even closer. His gloved hand reaches out, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face. “Does it matter, Y/N? Here, now, in the mud and rain, with nothing but dragons and war around us—does it matter?”
His touch burns, even through the cold. You slap his hand away, your anger flaring. “It matters because you’re the enemy,” you snap. “You’ve chosen your side, Aemond. And I’ve chosen mine.”
His jaw clenches, his face a mask of frustration. “Then fight me,” he growls, stepping back. “Fight me, Y/N. But know this—I’ll never stop wanting you. Even if it destroys me.”
Your hands tighten into fists, your mind racing. The storm, the dragons, the battle—they all fade into the background as you face him. “You’ll regret this,” you warn, your voice trembling with both anger and something else.
“I already do,” he admits, and for the first time, his voice cracks.
The tension between you is electric, the storm mirroring the turmoil within. For a moment, neither of you moves, locked in a battle far more dangerous than swords or fire. Then, with a growl of frustration, Aemond turns away, stalking toward Vhagar.
Behind you, Vermithor lets out a low rumble, his golden eyes watching your every move. You turn to him, placing a hand on his flank, drawing strength from his steady presence.
All For You - Neteyam x Ta'unui ! reader (enemies to lovers) - pt. 2
*Ta'unui is the Eastern Sea water clan that was attacked by Quaritch
part 1
summary: When Quaritch attacks the Ta’unui water clan looking for Jake Sully, the clan’s Tsahik forces her younger sister, Y/N, to escape and seek refuge from the Metkayina clan. As Y/N deals with the trauma of losing her home, she discovers that she isn’t the only outlander in the village. She develops conflicted feelings for Neteyam but the tensions grow when Y/N finds out that Neteyam is the son of Jake Sully - the man she hates.
genres/tropes: angst, romance, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, slowburn
other pairings: Loak x Tsireya, Kiri x Ao’nung, platonic relationships (Y/N x Kiri x Tsireya, Y/N x Jake, Y/N x Neytiri)
warnings: war, mentions of blood, PTSD, trauma, survivor guilt, character near-death experience, slightly aged up neteyam, dialogues are supposed to be in na'vi, not english, lots of side eyes, braids swaying, and neteyam appearing out of nowhere like the batman lol
word count: 30,2k (ik this is insane)
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The next morning you try to occupy yourself with whatever tasks to avoid running into Neteyam. You think that both of you need some time before returning back to your usual selves. What if he starts hating you?
Tsireya silently works along you, as you’re gathering berries. She doesn’t ask you anything about last night but you’re convinced that she suspects something happened.
“Y/N,” you hear someone call out your name.
Neytiri waves you over. You notice her wearing a different belt with two small knives hanging from each side, and a bow in her hands. Oh shit.
“Are you going to fly with Neytiri?” Tsireya asks, curiously. You nod.
“Come,” Neytiri shouts again.
When you join Neytiri, you feel nervous. And it’s not because of her anymore, but because Neteyam promised to join you too, and you’re scared you might run into him any minute now. But as you walk with her to your marui to retrieve your weapons, and head into the trees, there is no sign of Neteyam.
“This is my ikran,” Neytiri pats the greenish-yellow creature on its head with a smile.
The sound the ikran makes terrifies you, but she only laughs at your reaction. You've heard stories about the forest clans riding ikrans, but you've never seen one up close, let alone flown on one. You also knew of the special bond that exists between the forest Na’vi and their ikrans; they could only choose one for the rest of their lives, and in return, the ikran had to choose and remain loyal to them. This bond was unbreakable, for life.
“You will fly with me,” Neytiri explains, as she checks the armor on her companion. You watch her attentively. “We will hunt later, so you can try shooting in the air.”
You nod your head, taking a step closer. The ikran lets out another sound but Neytiri quickly calms it down, encouraging you to keep closing the distance. A few moments of patience pay off when the ikran lets you pat its head. Overwhelmed, you let out a breathy laugh.
“Now, let’s go,” Neytiri jumps on the back of the ikran, helping you up.
“Is Neteyam going to join us?”
“He is with his father,” Neytiri says, as she pushes the straps of the armor into your hands, “Grab on these. Neteyam will come if they finish early.”
You take a deep breath, as you feel the ikran jerk under you. A big wave of air hits you in the face, as you grab harder onto the handles not to fall. When you gaze down at the view below, you feel your heart race. You never even dreamt of flying but this seems like something you were waiting for your whole life.
As you fly higher and higher, you notice how confident Neytiri is in her movements. She controls the ikran with ease, guiding it smoothly around curves of the cliffs, between trees and small nooks. You grip the armor of the ikran tightly, fear and adrenaline rushing through your blood.
Neytiri takes a dip, and as you feel exhilarated by the sensation of the wind running through your hair, you let out a laugh. She looks back at you with a toothy grin.
“Tie your feet,” she shouts, slowing down the ikran.
You obey, tying the straps around your feet to the armor.
“Done,” you shout back.
Neytiri makes a slow turn. She circles around a small lake, hidden between the green of the island. Just above the water, you can see a small flock of tetrapterons, graciously soaring.
“Take out your arrow and bow,” Neytiri orders, “We will take them by surprise. Some birds will fly away but some will fly right at us. That is your best chance.”
“I’m ready,” you reply with a newly gained confidence.
You ready your bow, adjusting in your seat, and praying to Eywa that you won’t fall off. As Neytiri’s ikran circles closer, you feel alert at the sheer number of them. Neytiri navigates the ikran around the flock, and immediately, loud screeches strike your ears, as the birds disperse.
Focused, you take one look to find your prey. You take an aim, and feel a rush of adrenaline, as you release the arrow and watch it hit its target. You shriek in excitement, marking your victory.
“Well done!”
“This is great!” you shout, raising your hands over your head, and feeling the wind.
After some more flying, you get to see Neytiri in action. She’s graceful and fast, her arrows shooting through the target every single time perfectly, while she’s still flying her ikran. You hunt for a bit more, diving to collect your prey before returning back. You jump off to the ground, adrenaline rushing through your veins, as you watch Neytiri feed the ikran with one of the birds you caught.
“Oh, that was incredible!” you grin ear to ear, earning a smile from Neytiri.
“You are a skilled hunter, Y/N,” she compliments you, “And you have never flown before.”
“I can’t even imagine how exciting it is when you have a connection with the ikran,” you come closer, petting the creature that has already grown used to you.
“It is. It’s a connection for life,” Neytiri confirms, “You feel everything they feel. The freedom, the wind.”
You watch her with admiration, recalling the way she hunts. You don’t think you have ever even come close to being as graceful as she is. Not even in the water.
The two of you sit on the grass, the ikran stretching not too far away from you, closing its eyes. Neytiri lets you catch your breath before giving you the task of removing the arrows from the birds you caught.
“You turned down Neteyam last night,” she suddenly says, and you feel your heart picking up on a faster rhythm, “Did he do something stupid?”
“Not at all,” you shake your head, avoiding her eyes.
“Then why? Have you chosen somebody else?” while her voice remains soft, you feel pressured.
“That is not the reason,” you sigh, “I… I like Neteyam. I think he is kind.”
“And you?” she nudges you with a small smile.
“And I am not worth him,” you shrug your shoulders, hoping that your answer would satisfy her.
“Nonsense,” Neytiri shakes her head, “Tell me the truth.”
You fall silent, biting down on your lip. You didn’t even have the guts to explain it properly to Neteyam, let alone to his mother. Hell, you didn’t know what to say to yourself. She doesn’t know that the thoughts of Neteyam have been driving you crazy. You feel guilty and frustrated because you can’t go back home but you also feel like you don’t deserve to live a new happy life here. You won’t be able to make him happy.
“Y/N,” Neytiri says, putting her hand on your shoulder, “Whatever is holding you back can be fought. The Great Mother guided you through the water, she helped you survive for a reason. Nothing should stop you now.”
“I don’t want to hurt him,” you whisper, “Now is not the time.”
“I used to think that when I met Jake. But it’s never going to be the right time.”
You look back at her, searching for more answers. You recall the stories Neteyam told you about his parents the night you spent together. When you first heard them, you thought they were brave to choose each other. Maybe even a little selfish.
“Mom,” your ears perk up at Neteyam’s shout, as he jumps off his ikran.
Neytiri waves her son over, and as Neteyam walks up to you, you notice blood on his forehead.
“Y/N,” he greets you with a forced smile. You awkwardly greet him back.
“What happened to you?” Neytiri stands up to examine his forehead, then circles him, looking at his back, and arms.
You jump to your feet too, following her expressions, in case she finds something.
“I’m alright, you should see dad,” Neteyam chuckles, then winces, as Neytiri slaps his arm.
“What did you two do? I told you not to be careless!” she gets angry.
“Nothing,” Neteyam pulls away, “We were flying around the cliffs of another island but there was a thick fog. Dad couldn’t see anything, so he hit a cliff. I was just behind him…I didn’t hit anything but when he fell, he took me down with him.”
“Stupid!” she scolds him, “Where is he?”
“At Tsahik’s,” Neteyam winces again, shaking off his arm. He must have hurt it, you think.
“Come,” Neytiri orders.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Jake looks exhausted and in pain, his forehead creased with a frown. Neytiri sits next to him, peppering him with questions while Ronal tends to his wounds. You and Neteyam sit back, the awkward silence between you palpable. He avoids your gaze, and you can’t really blame him for that.
“No, that wasn’t fog," Jake’s voice catches your attention.
"What then, Ma'Jake?" Neytiri leans forward, her expression curious.
"It was smoke," Jake replies, his breath ragged. "I could smell it. And it was too thick. I couldn't see a thing."
You cover your mouth in shock, as a realization hits you. If the smoke was caused by the sky people, it means the trouble is closer. Ronal throws a quick glance at Neteyam, before shoving one of the balms she just used into your hands. When you look at her, confused, she points to Neteyam’s forehead, covered in blood.
You curse Tsireya for abandoning you to assist Tsahik. She never leaves her mother alone, she is the tsakarem! You know that it was exactly her intention to leave you with Neteyam.
“No need, I can do it myself,” Neteyam raises his palms to stop you, but Ronal only tsks at him.
He can’t even see his wounds, let alone treat them, you think. With your breath shaky, you walk to Neteyam, taking in the damages on his arms and forehead. You hope that by the time you get to it, Ronal will take over, so you don’t have to stare at his face. Neteyam looks at you from underneath his lashes.
“Sorry, I wasn’t there today,” he mumbles, “I know I promised but…”
“You don’t have to apologize,” you say quietly, “It was fun.”
“I told you,” Neteyam gives you a small smile.
Knowing him, he can’t stay mad at you forever. He knows it’s wrong to be petty. Still, it hurts.
You gently shove him to turn around to examine the multiple cuts on his back. He’s not bleeding but they look nasty. You take a breath before applying some of the balm onto his wounds, and you see his muscles clench.
“Shit,” you hear Neteyam wince.
You remember the same balm used on you when you first arrived, and the burning pain that followed. Hesitantly, you lean closer to blow cold air on his wounds. Neteyam's back muscles slowly relax under the feeling. It is not enough to stop the pain, but it's still a small relief. You blow a few more times before the burning dies down.
“Turn around,” you order quietly, and he complies.
You feel blood rushing to your cheeks, as you take one of his arms, to tend to the wounds you saw earlier. Neteyam watches you carefully, wincing as you start applying the balm. Instinctively, he tries to jerk his arm away but you hold him in place.
“Mawey,” you whisper. He clenches his jaw but stops moving.
After you finish applying the balm to his other arm, you realize that the adults have slipped away. You heard Ronal being rushed to treat an injured Na’vi, but not Neytiri and Jake leaving.
“Almost done. Now, the nasty one,” you breathe out, pointing to Neteyam’s forehead.
He closes his eyes, preparing for the pain, but instead of the balm, you take a damp cloth to his forehead. He flinches in surprise underneath the soft touch and opens his eyes.
“It’s a big cut,” you explain, “I need to clean it first.”
“Y/N,” Neteyam’s voice is low, “About last night.”
You gulp down, nervously, not meeting his eyes, instead focusing all of your concentration on cleaning his wound. But he’s so close, you can feel his breath on your skin.
“You didn’t have to explain anything to me. I-I,” he takes a shaky breath, "A mature Na'vi must face rejection because you can't force your heart to feel something it doesn't. And if you don't feel the same for me as I do for you, then I must accept that without question."
He is too noble for his own good, you think. You stop, and lower your hand to look at his face.
“Neteyam, you got it wrong,” you let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t reject you because I don’t have feelings for you. I turned you down because I’m scared that it could ruin us and jeopardize you as the future of your family.”
Neteyam frowns, trying to process your words. This whole time he had been so certain that you simply didn't reciprocate his feelings, that he had almost grown used to that idea.
“Why are you scared?” Neteyam takes your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “You know I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”
“‘Teyam,” you whisper, too overwhelmed to meet his gaze.
He releases your hand and cups your cheek tenderly, bringing your foreheads together. Though you're standing, towering slightly over him, it doesn't distract from the moment.
“Please, just for a moment, let me be honest with you,” Neteyam says, nuzzling your face, “Will you?”
“I will,” you agree. All he has to do is ask, you’ll always agree.
“I see you, Y/N,” Neteyam whispers.
You feel your breath catch in your throat. You knew he was going to say it but it still felt unexpected. Neteyam's fingers caress your cheeks with love, waiting for your response. With anything. As long as he gets a response. You lean in and touch his lips with yours, and both your hearts start racing.
There is a small pause before Neteyam kisses you back softly and slowly. You close your eyes and give in to him, as he pulls you closer and closer, until there's no more space left between you.
Overwhelmed, you eventually pull away, catching your breath. A toothy grin appears on Neteyam's face, making your heart ache with love. You wish you could always make him smile like this.
“Now is not the time, Neteyam,” you try to discipline him but instead his smile grows even bigger. Is he mocking you?
Your cheeks flush with heat as you try to calm down your racing heart, but Neteyam only seems to find your reaction funny. He reaches his arm to touch yours.
“I feel the happiest,” he says.
“It’s not the time,” you repeat again, trying to sound stern this time, “You’re bleeding again.”
You notice red running from his wound, and sigh, as you take the cloth, and start cleaning it. Neteyam follows your movement with a smile resting on his lips but he lets you work.
You can’t really believe that you kissed Neteyam. You tried resisting before getting sucked into the fantasy of being his, but the thoughts of returning home continue to nag at you.
He doesn’t know that it’s been days since you thought about it. Going home. The nightmare you had about your sister has left you feeling like Eywa was trying to send you a message. So you desperately wanted to check for yourself. What if she’s been alive this whole time waiting for you to come home? What if she’s with Eywa now, and you've neglected to send your prayers, instead living a new life? Just the thought of it makes you feel sick. You know that you can't wait any longer.
Neteyam lets out a soft gasp, bringing you back to reality. You blow on the balm you've just applied to his forehead to ease his pain.
“Thank you,” he places his palm on your waist.
“You’re welcome.”
“Now nothing will hold me back from being yours,” he says, taking your hand and placing it over his heart.
“Neteyam -”
“I know, I know,” he interrupts you, “You think this is not the right time, but what matters to me is that you reciprocated.”
“Of course I did,” you decide to tease him, switching the topic, “I couldn’t break your heart, when you had blood all over you.”
“Is that so?” he quirks his eyebrow, eyes twinkling,“If I had known that it takes me getting hurt to be treated so nicely, I would have got hurt a long time ago.”
“That’s not funny,” you slap his chest, earning him a laugh.
For a second, you’re reminded of the plan you had. You hang your head low before speaking.
“I can’t promise you anything right now, ‘Teyam. Not until I am sure.”
“Sure about what?” he looks at you confused.
“There’s just something that...I need to be certain of before I give in to this,” you say, gesturing between you. You feel terrible for getting his hopes high. Why did you have to kiss him?
“I’ll wait,” he says. You look up at him in surprise, “However long it takes.”
You had everything planned out. It was so simple before he had to come in and mess up your head. You would sneak away in the dark, hoping to get to the Eastern shore by the morning. With a healthy young ilu, the journey would take less time now, and you were confident that your instincts would lead you by the same route you took when you escaped before. You had to see your home.
Neteyam is a distraction. He would come in, trying to save you, hold you back. He will fight you, and push your buttons, telling you that it is a bad idea. Make it harder for you to leave.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The following week seems to drag on even slower than before, with no news of new attacks. While it seemed like something good, in reality, you were scared that the sky demons were planning a bigger strike. Lo’ak has a theory that they were tracking you down with their fancy weapons, instead of wasting resources on other villages. Neteyam discredits his brother to make the rest of you feel better, but, judging by his eyes, you think he believes it too.
During these days, it’s hard for you to keep your distance with Neteyam, especially when you’re not alone. Despite his promise to wait for you, there is this new spark in him that makes him act carelessly. He can’t hide it around the others, staring at you and touching you at every opportunity he gets. Overwhelmed, in return, you overcompensate by ignoring him. You can’t let anyone find out. Because once it’s out in the open, you’ll feel pressured to become mates. And you were not ready.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“What the hell, Neteyam? I almost had it!” you shout at him in anger.
“It was going to swim away if I hadn’t shot,” he responds with a self-assured tone, like he is talking to a child.
It was early in the morning, when you decided to head out for some hunting near the caves at the back of the island. And just as you were about to feel the sweet satisfaction of catching a srakat that you’ve been preying on, an arrow whizzed past you and struck the fish.
Neteyam found your expression amusing, not knowing the effort and patience you had put into finding those damned srakat caves, nor did he understand how much it annoyed you when someone interrupted your hunt.
“You should have minded your own business!” you hiss at him.
Neteyam rubs his eyes, and you can’t believe his audacity. He ruined your hunt and now he’s the one rubbing his eyes like he’s about to get a headache?
“Did I ask you to help me?” you ask him, feeling your blood boil.
“Oh forgive me, Neteyam, my savior,” you mock him, “What was it you called yourself? The mighty warrior? Well, can a mighty warrior return to being his mighty self and leave the real hunters to actually hunt?”
“When it comes to swimming, I get it!” he throws his hands in the air, exasperated “I always listen to you because you grew up in the water. I know you know better, so I listen to you -”
“Exactly!” you interrupt him, feeling a surge of irritation.
“Let me finish,” Neteyam rolls his eyes. “But when it comes to hunting, why can’t you trust someone who has been holding a bow and arrow in his hands before he started walking?”
“Do you think you’re the only one that hunts?” you ask him, confused. “Catch up, forest boy. We know how to use bows and arrows, but spears are easier when hunting down bigger prey. Especially srakat.”
“A good hunter works with precision and a small window of time, your method was doomed from the beginning,” he argues.
“It’s not about precision, it’s about patience and force! You can’t possibly shoot a srakat from a distance. If it spots you, you’re never going to see it again. You were just lucky that we were so close to it, otherwise your arrow wouldn’t even poke its armor.”
“Yet, who’s the one holding the trophy?” he raises his eyebrow at you, expectantly.
“Now you’re just pissing me off on purpose,” you hiss at him.
His ears flutter in response. Neteyam attempts to cover them with his hands but it is too late. Is this what you think it is? Did seeing you this angry suddenly bring him pleasure?
“You, skxawng. Are you seriously this excited seeing me angry?” you can’t believe him.
“No,” he denies, “On the contrary, I’m frustrated with your stupidity!”
“You’re the stupid one!” you poke his chest with your finger.
It takes you by surprise when he wraps his fingers around your wrist. You’re standing too close to each other, your breaths catching. Neither of you looks away, trying to read each other's thoughts. It's been a while since he's been this close to you since your kiss in the marui, and you’re suddenly reminded why. Your gaze falls to his lips, sending him a sign. Neteyam kisses you, and this time you can’t pull yourself away.
Your bodies embrace, holding each other tight, and as you kiss, it feels like the two of you are fighting over who gets to taste more. You pull him closer by the nape of his neck, and a soft moan escapes his lips. He kneels, and you follow suit, the kiss unbroken.
Kissing him is overwhelming, greedy. You sit on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Neteyam places your hand on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating rapidly. He reaches for your queue, and you don't resist.
“Y/N,” he gasps, pulling back, “Stop.”
“What is it?” you ask offended.
“Eywa,” he says. You notice he's holding your queue between his fingers. He lets it slip away.
“She hasn’t blessed us,” you voice his concern out loud, “Not as mates anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Neteyam’s ears perk up in surprise, “Did she give you a sign about me?”
“Kind of.”
“Tell me,” he is eager, it amuses you.
“No, I think it might go to your head,” you tease him, with a playful smile.
“Y/N,” his voice is so serious, you crack.
“Alright,” you roll your eyes, letting your fingers wander over his broad shoulders, “The other day, when we were at the Spirit Tree, and it was windy, a seed floated around me, and then around you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Neteyam looks at you offended. You find it amusing.
“Because you were really getting on my nerves back then,” you admit, “And honestly, you’re still kind of annoying me now.”
“I’m the annoying one?” Neteyam’s face lightens up with a sleazy smile.
Before you know it, he pins you to the ground, hanging above you. He seems to like this position a little too much. His fingers tickle your stomach and neck, forcing giggles and squeals from you, as you try to escape.
“Neteyam, stop!”
“Say you’re sorry!” he demands, pausing for a moment to give you a chance to save yourself.
"I'm not going to lie," you reply, your voice catching in your throat as he continues to tickle you, "FIne! I'm sorry! I give up!"
“Sorry for what?”
“Not telling you sooner!”
“And who am I?” he quirks his eyebrow.
“Neteyam,” you whimper, but he shakes his head, “‘Teyam!”
“Hm,” he pretends to think about it, “Not bad but you have to try harder if you want to get out of here still alive.”
You feel out of breath, smiling like a fool. You know exactly what he wants to hear.
“The mighty warrior,” you let out. His face immediately lightens up.
“Smart girl,” Neteyam leans in, nuzzling his forehead against yours.
“You called me stupid two seconds ago,” you huff but he shuts you up with a gentle kiss.
Words can’t describe how giddy you feel. It's unbelievable. You’re kissing him Neteyam. Just a few weeks ago, you despised him with every fiber of your being. Your grandmother used to say that hate is a form of love, and you're starting to believe that now. Because at this moment, it feels like there's no one in the world except him. With his lips on yours, and his hand gently cupping your cheek while you play with his braids, you feel all the negative thoughts being pushed out of your mind.
“Oh, sweet Eywa,” you pull away from him, suddenly realizing.
“What?”
“Is that why you’re annoying me? Because I was ignoring you,” you accuse him.
“What, no way,” he denies, yet it’s so easy to spot his lies.
“You’re lying, you skxawng!” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Look at that sleazy grin on your face. And your ears! They were fluttering when I was yelling at you!”
Neteyam cracks under your gaze, and starts laughing. You take a second to admire this sound. It’s so genuine, so warm. Oh Eywa, you wish to hear that laughter every day. You gaze into his golden eyes with so much love, you feel like your heart is going to burst.
“What are you thinking about?” Neteyam asks softly, noticing how quiet you got.
“I see you, Neteyam.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
Like on the schedule, the storm doesn’t take long to arrive. Tears blur your vision as you witness a Tulkun floating on the surface with its eyes closed. There are blurs of bright orange at her sides that confirm she’s been killed by the sky demons. Devastation fills the air, with Ronal trying to revive her soul sister, praying to Eywa. But everyone knows it's too late. When she finally gives up, a painful shriek breaks the silence. You sob quietly, as you feel Neteyam’s hands wrap around you in comfort. You can’t imagine what it feels like to lose a soul sister.
When Tonowari calls for a meeting, there is a mixture of anger and sorrow in the air. The Metkayina hunters wear their armors, holding weapons in their hands, ready to fight. Tonowari orders everyone to prepare to avenge the death of Tulkun.
Jake jumps into the circle, pleading with him to stop. He thinks that it is a trap set by the sky demons to lure them out, that they’re planning something worse. When the others try to silence his father, Neteyam intervenes, asking them to listen. His desperation weighs heavy on your heart. Jake raises a piece of metal retrieved from the Tulkun's side, causing everyone to fall silent.
“You tell the Tulkun, if they are hit by one of these, they are marked for death,” he says.
Tonowari seems to listen. He orders the clan to pass the message to their soul-brothers and soul-sisters, and tell them to leave before it’s too late.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“I’m sorry, ‘Teyam, but you gotta move out of the way,” you sigh, tired of arguing with him.
“I’m not letting you go there, it is too dangerous,” his accent becomes more evident with the anger building up inside, “Let’s wait. I will talk to dad, we will think of something safer.”
“I don’t need you to talk to your dad!” you grow frustrated with him, “I don’t need you involving anybody else. I have thought about this. I know what to do.”
“It’s risky, Y/N, you know it is.”
“I do. But they’ve sent us a clear sign,” you point at the water, reminding him of the dead Tulkun, “They know exactly where to shoot now. Exactly where to hurt. And I can’t keep going on like this… I need to know what happened before I lose my sanity, sitting here and waiting for death,” you’re so tired, you’re ready to break down right here. Just to feel him wrap his arms around you and comfort you.
“Y/N,” Neteyam’s gaze softens at the tremble in your voice, “I can’t lose you.”
“This is why I didn’t want you to -” you stop yourself before you say something hurtful. It’s really not his fault that you gave in to this fantasy of being his, “Please. Move.”
It’s only a second of hesitation on his side but it’s just enough to give you an opening. You charge past him into the water, your ilu already waiting. The cool water rushes over you, as you swim ahead, determined to get as far from him as you can. You hear his voice call out to you.
“I’m not letting you go there alone!”
The death of Tulkun has only added to your fears of the sky demons targeting the Metkayina. Your nightmares have become more frequent. It’s the same one, every night, and you just can't wait anymore for another sign from Eywa. You need to figure out for yourself what happened to your home, and to your sister.
When Neteyam caught you sneaking at night, it wasn’t hard to guess that you were trying to leave the perimeters of the village. Of course, he is worried about your safety. You'll be alone in the open water, with the sky demons lurking nearby, looking for their next prey. What if they spot you before you can hide? What if they catch you? He’s not going to lose you right after he spilled his heart out to you. It’s not fair.
It’s still dark out, as you swim ahead, following your instincts. You can sense that Neteyam is close behind but you don’t acknowledge him. You're determined to see this through.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
As the sun rises, you and Neteyam arrive at the village. You can feel your heart sink at the sight of what remains of it. It’s hardly recognizable: everything you knew and loved has disappeared into smoldering ruins.
You unlink from your ilu, taking a few steps further. Even the sand underneath your feet seems to be dark gray from the fire. Your eyes roam over the burnt structures of the old maruis and the pieces of clothes and weapons scattered on the ground, showing how little regard the sky demons had for your Na'vi.
You feel the weight of guilt and anger welling up inside and crushing down on you, as you continue walking. You stop when you step closer to the remains of a marui where your sister and her mate used to stay. It was easy to tell apart from the others: as the leaders of the clan, they used to have a big home. You were always jealous of all the space they had, which from the very beginning was destined for the children they were going to have. Streams of tears rush down your face, and you can’t help the sobs threatening to close up your throat.
Neteyam, who was right behind you all this time, gently rests his hand on your shoulder. You turn around, desperately burying your face in his chest. He holds you tightly, with his hands on your back, running them up and down in a comforting motion. He feels his own heart breaking at the sound of your crying.
It takes you a long time before you can pull away from his arms, ready to face the reality again. Neteyam asks if you want to go back but you can only shake your head. Not until you know the fate of the Tree of Souls. It was the sacred place where your clan used to go to pray, hidden away in an underwater cave, on the far edge of the island. The Tree was still small, still growing, but it was the only source of light in the darkness. You pray that its secrecy has kept it safe from destruction.
You pull Neteyam by the hand, leading him towards the cave. The once bright and lively colors of the plants now seem dull. As you dive in, a faint light catches your eyes. The Tree of Souls. Quickly, you swim to it, desperate to feel its warmth and connection to Eywa. But the light the Tree radiates is too weak, barely breaking the darkness around it. You cover your mouth with your hands, in shock. Behind you, Neteyam squeezes your shoulder, as you bring out your queue to the Tree, ready to cling to it. You close your eyes, focusing on your bond, and ask the Great Mother for guidance.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
When your eyes flutter open, you find yourself back on the familiar beach. Your village looks just as it did in the past, with all of the maruis standing in place, untouched.
“Y/N?” you hear your sister’s voice, as she appears in front of you with a warm smile. This can’t be real.
You shake your head in denial, as tears fill up your eyes. With the signs you received from Eywa, deep down you had hoped that she wouldn’t be here. That somehow she had survived and just ran away to live somewhere else. That she hadn’t died for you.
But there she was. Gracing you with the warmest smile and wrapping you in the tightest hug. Wearing the headpiece that you helped her decorate, when she was first pronounced the Tsahik of Ta'unui. It was the happiest day.
“Why are you crying?” she asks, pulling away to look at you.
“I missed you,” you sniff.
“I missed you too,” she cups your face lovingly.
Although your nightmare threatens to repeat itself, you allow her to guide you towards the water without objection. It’s crystal clear and the sky is cloudless. You’re not scared that she may let go of your hand anymore. Together you swim, holding hands, and admiring the depths of the sea. As you both dive deeper, you come across a cluster of yellow plants that glow, breathing in and out.
“I want to lay here someday,” she gestures, and the realization hits you. This is how the water takes, claims the dead.
Heavy-hearted, you get back to the beach with her, stretching out on the sand. You wish you could stay with her. Just the two of you.
“Are you happy?” she asks you, “It seems like you’re letting the bad thoughts consume you.”
“You know me too well, sister,” you smile, “I don’t know how to start again after losing everything.”
“You just have to accept that you can never bring the past back,” she responds thoughtfully, “What scares you?”
“I’ve met someone… And I’m scared to promise myself to him. I don’t think I can make him happy.”
“Well, why?” she urges you to open up. You can only shake your head, feeling the weight of guilt crushing you. “Is he kind?” she prompts.
“He is, he has the kindest heart.”
“Is he patient?”
“Too much for his own good,” you chuckle.
“Does he love you?”
“He does,” you wince.
“I don’t see what scares you, Y/N,” she smiles proudly, “You deserve happiness. Leave the past behind you.”
“But what about you?” you frown, feeling like she is slipping away from you.
“I will be the happiest when you are too, tsmuke.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
When you swim back up, you spot Neteyam sitting on the flat rocks, inside the cave. You catch his attention right away.
“Are you alright?” he leans in, helping you out of the water, “You were in there for a long time.”
“I am… the nightmare was a sign from Eywa,” you breathe out, taking a seat by him, “I think there was a burial ceremony the night when I first saw it. The Ta'unui who lived gave their final prayers to the fallen before leaving here.”
“Is she with Eywa now?” he asks carefully, and you nod, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s alright,” you sigh with a small smile, “I’m just happy I saw her.”
Neteyam embraces you tightly. You’re not sure if it’s meant to comfort you or himself but you’re pleased, feeling him so close to you. You tug at his queue lightly, signaling him to pull away.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I want to ask Eywa for a blessing,” you smile at him, nuzzling his face, “I want to be promised to you forever.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
As you make your way back home, you and Neteyam exchange giddy laughs, when he occasionally circles around your ilu, playfully teasing you. This newfound feeling of Neteyam being yours makes you overwhelmed with your love for him. Though you both agreed to wait, you were blessed by the Great Mother and that was all that mattered.
Suddenly, Neteyam stops and puts his fingers to his ear, listening in. Annoyance flickers across his face before he touches his necklace.
“Get away from there, as fast as you can Lo’ak,” he growls, “We’ll be there soon. I don’t care, tell father right now.”
You watch with concern, as Neteyam takes off at lightning speed. You barely manage to keep up with him, urging your ilu to swim faster.
“It’s Lo’ak,” Neteyam shouts, unwilling to slow down, “He went to warn Payakan about the Tulkun’s death, but Payakan has been marked.”
“Is he okay?” you ask worried.
“He’s trying to get it out. But the skxwang brought everyone with him. Kiri, Tsireya, Ao’nung, and even Tuk followed them,” Neteyam shakes his head in frustration.
You swim faster and faster, when finally, you can spot Payakan, with the silhouettes of your friends, standing on its back. Neteyam takes off and helps them right away but you fall back, when another movement catches your eyes. A large ship is approaching and quickly coming into view.
“”Teyam,” you shout, swimming to them, “They’re here!”
Everyone's heads turn in the direction you point. As the ship gets closer, it seems to grow in size, and your voice catches in your throat. Neteyam quickly takes charge, rushing everyone back to their ilus.
“We’re swimming back now, sir,” he presses on his necklace, “Roger that.”
“Is that your dad? What is he saying?” you ask him.
“They’re getting ready to attack. But we have to leave now.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“Y/N, help!” you hear Lo’ak’s voice, as you catch a sight of him on the ilu, with Neteyam laid over his knees.
It seems like just a moment ago, you were helping free Tuk and Tsireya, urging them to retreat to the shore with you, as the Metkayina battled the sky demons. Despite your pleas, Lo'ak picked up a weapon and charged into the explosions. Neteyam shook his head before picking up a weapon himself.
“Neteyam, please,” you pulled him by his hand, “Don’t go there.”
“Don’t worry, just get Tuk to safety,” Neteyam squeezed your hand in his, “I’ll be right behind you, you won’t even notice.”
“But Neteyam -” he shutted you with a kiss, before pulling away with a smile.
“Go, now,” he rushed at you, disappearing into the battle.
You shouldn’t have let him go. Panic and fear overwhelm you, as you try to help Lo’ak and his human friend get Neteyam to the land. Your heart drops when you see red running out of his chest.
"Y/N, he’s been shot!” Lo'ak's voice breaks through your thoughts.
Immediately, you kneel down, Tsireya joining you to examine him. Neteyam barely keeps his eyes open, as you take in a deep wound on his chest, blood gushing out of it. You can’t see the bullet.
“‘Teyam! You’re fine,” you touch his face.
“What do we do?” Lo’ak asks panicked.
“I’m going to get my mom,” Tsireya stands up but Lo’ak pulls her back by her hand.
“Ronal is out there fighting.”
“You’re the tsakarem, you must help him,” you almost hiss at Tsireya.
Neteyam lets out a weak cough, clearly hurting. You press your fingers onto his wound, trying to apply more pressure. You can feel the warmth of the blood seeping through your fingers, and press down harder, almost trying to force it back. You can’t lose him now. Not right after you found him.
“Hey, hey, stay with me,” you beg him, tears filling up your eyes, “Tsireya, help me.”
Tsireya complies right away, helping you apply pressure down on Neteyam’s chest.
“Go to Tsahik’s room and find the blue balm she keeps by the wall. And bring back as many bandages as you can,” she tells Lo’ak, then turns to you with a whisper, “I don’t want to scare Tuk, but we must get the bullet out.”
You take a quick look at Tuk, wrapped up in her own arms, crying. You have forgotten she was here with you, watching her big brother suffer in pain. Your heart aches for her.
“Ma‘Teyam, are you with me?”
“Y/N,” Neteyam breathes out, a weak smile on his face. His hand cups your cheek, and you immediately cover his with yours, smearing the blood all over you, “I want to go home.”
“You’re not going anywhere without me anymore, you hear that?” you force yourself to smile through your tears.
From the corner of your eye, you notice Lo’ak and his friend returning back, and Tsireya rushes to him to take the supplies. They flee, as she takes a seat by you again, then brings out her knife. She starts speaking to you, as if she wants you to do something but you can’t really hear her. And your mind takes you to a bad place.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“Y/N,” Tsireya’s voice sounds far away, “I need you to help”
Everything unraveling around you seems to pass in a blur. One moment, you see little Tuk by Neteyam’s unconscious body, with her small hands pressing over his chest. Your eyes take in a knife, covered in blood, with its sharp tip poking through the blood with quick careful motions. Then, Tsireya throws the knife away, as her fingers dig into the wound. Your eyes widen as she pulls out a bullet, covered in thick blood.
“I got it, Y/N,” Tsireya’s voice snaps you back into reality, “But I think he’s doing worse.”
You only nod and lean in to check Neteyam's breathing, but there's no sign of life. Frantically, you search for his pulse, but again, nothing. When you press your ear to his chest, straining to hear any sound, your heart races. It's like searching for a glimmer of light in the dark depths of the ocean, but at last, you hear the faintest heartbeat.
This weak, fragile beat is all that matters to you. Like a drug, it floods your veins with a surge of adrenaline, tuning out every bad thought and emotion. You quickly spring into action, now overtaking Tuk’s responsibility, as you tear a piece of your cloth to start cleaning his wound.
“Y/N, his lungs are giving out,” Tsireya voices her concern, as she thoroughly applies a thick scoop of the blue balm to the wound. “If he doesn’t start breathing on his own soon, this is pointless.”
“I know… I know what to do,” you mumble, thinking back on the chest compressions Neteyam performed on Kiri when she was struggling to breathe, “But we need to wrap this very tightly.”
Doubts flood your mind as you begin the compressions, questioning whether you are counting correctly or making the injury worse. Tsireya checks his pulse but shakes her head every time, and you feel a sense of disappointment overwhelming you. You refuse to give up. He just needs a push.
“Neteyam!” you shout, pressing on his chest in an already familiar rhythm, “Don’t leave me!”
Tears stream down your face as you press your mouth to his, willing him to take in more air. Suddenly, you feel a slight movement underneath you, and when you pull away, Neteyam coughs weakly and takes a small breath through his mouth.
As you notice his chest slowly rising and falling, you let out a cry of happiness, thanking the Great Mother for helping you. You repeat your prayers over and over again, as if in a trance, while holding his hand. Eventually the chaos around you dies down, and everything turns dark.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
It takes you a few seconds to adjust your eyes to the bright light. As memories of the previous night appear to you, you jolt up looking for Neteyam, and realize that you had fallen asleep by his side.
His eyes are closed, face peaceful, bandage tightly wrapping his chest. Your heart picks up a beat, as you carefully lean in to check his breathing. When you feel a weak breeze on your skin, you pull away with relief. Your eyes roam around the big marui, finding the rest of his family scattered around, asleep. Even Tsireya’s here, her head resting on Lo’ak’s shoulder. When your gaze meets Neytiri's, you notice the dark circles under her eyes indicating sleeplessness or tears, or both.
Quietly, she walks over to you and kneels down beside her son, cradling his cheek lovingly. You see her eyes glisten, as she then leans in to wrap you in her motherly embrace. A small sob escapes your lips, feeling consumed by her warmth.
“Shh, my child,” she whispers, gently wiping away your tears, “Neteyam is strong. Eywa has heard you.”
Your heart fills with gratitude for her words. Despite seeing her son like this, she finds enough strength for the both of you. Together you stay by Neteyam’s side, watching his chest rise and fall with each weak breath.
Eventually, the rest of the family wakes up, one by one checking on Neteyam.
“He will be awake soon,” Ronal confirms her prior reading, earning a grateful look from Jake.
You catch a proud smile settle on her face, as she watches Tsireya carefully switching the old bandages, consumed in her work. You feel infinitely thankful to have Tsireya by your side.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The dynamics between the Sully family changed overnight. You notice how Jake and Neytiri suddenly seem even warmer, holding each other and their kids lovingly, afraid to lose them. Despite guilt eating away at Lo’ak, he feels accepted once embraced by his father. Kiri and Neytiri seem to understand each other without exchanging a word. While you find Tuk clinging herself to you and Tsireya, her newfound admiration for you evident in the way she sought your attention.
When Neytiri and Jake send the kids off to eat and bring something for them too, you protest to stay at the marui with them. The thought of leaving Neteyam’s side even for a moment makes you shudder.
Instead, as advised by Ronal, you start praying to Eywa again.
“Y/N, Eywa has heard you already,” Jake says, putting his hand on your shoulder in comfort, “Take a break, kid.”
“But what if she hasn’t? Ronal said he would be awake soon but he isn’t waking up,” your voice is desperate, “I am scared.”
“This is his battle to fight,” Neytiri adds, her voice low, “He is the first son of Toruk Makto, born to lead clans, to protect. Neteyam was destined to be strong, you have to trust him.”
“He’ll be alright,” Jake pats your back, offering comfort.
You nod, quietly agreeing. There really wasn’t a reason for you to behave like this, with his parents in the room. And they are right. Neteyam always does his best, you just have to be patient.
“Were you with Neteyam yesterday?” Neytiri suddenly asks, curiously observing your face.
“What?” you’re caught off guard. Is she implying the morning of?
“Yesterday, Neteyam disappeared. And when Lo’ak was with Payakan, he told us that you and Neteyam were coming from the East,” she slowly elaborates, as she pieces the bits together.
“Why were you coming from the East?” Jakes fixes his eyes on you, waiting for an explanation.
You avoid looking at any of them, hesitant to respond. You knew for sure that if Neteyam hadn't been lying with a wound in his chest right now, Jake would be already scolding him for venturing outside the village perimeters at night. You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling pressured to tell them. Yikes.
“We went back to my village,” you blurt out, “I didn’t want anyone to know where I was going, but Neteyam caught me sneaking out. He couldn’t convince me to stay, so he just came with me to make sure I was safe.”
The two of them listen to you quietly but you can already see disappointment covering Jake’s face. Neytiri’s expression is unreadable, and you wonder if they’re angry at you for putting their son in danger.
“Look, I know it was risky and stupid but I had to see what remained of my home,” your voice breaks, as you continue to justify yourself, “And the two of us were very cautious. Seriously, we were completely fine -”
“It’s alright, kid,” Jake interrupts you, his gaze softening, “Did you find what you were looking for?”
You nod affirmatively, noticing a small spreading across Neytiri's face. She regards you with approval, as if what you told them has impressed her. It's the same look she gave you when you went hunting together.
“You’re not going to get mad at Neteyam, right?” you ask Jake, knowing how upset Neteyam gets when scolded by his father.
“I couldn’t think of anyone braver and kinder than Neteyam to go with you,” Jake smiles, and you feel relieved.
“Something is different about you. Your spirit,” Neytiri points out.
“I got the answers to my questions from the Great Mother. I feel content,” you nod your head, confirming her words. She hums.
“Y/N, we are very grateful to both you and Tsireya,” Jake’s thanks you sincerely, “You saved my son.”
“Really, like I said, it was mostly her -” you try to oppose but another voice interrupts you.
“Your voice was the thing that kept me alive, Y/N,” it’s so low and husky, weak. Neteyam.
Your heart skips a beat when your eyes catch his golden ones, looking back at you with the already familiar, already addictive warmth. All three of you are suddenly overwhelmed with joy, as you lean in and begin to examine him, holding his face, his hands, his thighs, whatever you can get your hands on.
“You’re awake,” you let out, already feeling tears dwelling in your eyes.
Neytiri beams at her son, squeezing his hand in hers, as if his life depends on it. You give some space for Jake to sit closer to Neteyam.
“I am feeling better, don’t worry about me,” Neteyam forces a smile to calm their unsettling reactions.
“Thank you, Great Mother,” Neytiri says, looking up, and you can hear Jake repeating after her quietly.
Neteyam catches your eye, his own crinkling in the corners. But there’s something playful about his expression, like he’s trying to hold back a laugh.
“You scared the hell out of me, Neteyam,” you nag him, and earn back a weak chuckle.
Your blood boils at how angry you suddenly feel. Angry at how careless he was. At how he didn’t listen to you, didn’t trust your instincts. At how now he’s treating his poor parents’ reactions as something funny.
“You think it’s funny?”
“It’s not funny, I’m sorry,” Neteyam shakes his head, as he reaches his hand to you, offering peace, “Mother, father, forgive me please.”
“Glad to see you, son,” Jake pats his head, approvingly.
You can’t remain angry, as you look at his hand outstretched, waiting for yours. Slowly, you move close to him, giving him your hand. He squeezes it with a soft smile. You can’t help but smile back.
“Neteyam!” Tuk’s excited shriek interrupts you, as she runs up to her brother, almost falling onto him.
You laugh at her reaction, as Neteyam struggles to hug her back, and her hands almost choke him around the neck. Lo’ak and Kiri step into the room next, their eyes widening when they see their older brother. Deciding to give them a moment, you step out of the marui with a relieved smile.
When you take a seat by the wall, you feel somebody sit down next to you. You don’t have to check to know that it’s Jake.
“You know, I owe you for the rest of my life for saving Neteyam,” he pauses, then tries to joke, “How many of mine have you saved already? Two?”
“Exactly, two,” giddy, you play along by holding up two fingers, “Came really close to three with Lo’ak a few times but then Neteyam took over.”
“Wow. Either you’re really great, or my children just desperately want to give me a heart attack.”
“You should be happy that I hang around them so often,” you earn a throaty laugh from Jake, before his expression turns serious again.
“But really, Y/N…”
“I know, you don’t have to,” you interrupt him, “I care for your family too. Even if it sounds strange, given my past opinions.”
“Past?” Jake quirks his eyebrow at you, “That trip to your village really turned things around for you, huh?”
“It did,” you nod.
“And I’m guessing that he finally confessed to you?” he catches you off guard with his question.
“Neteyam told you?” you ask. Jake hums, “What did you think?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
“Well,” Jake looks into the distance, “I thought it would be great if you returned his feelings.”
“But why? I wasn’t exactly nice to you,” you’re really confused.
“You were okay,” he smirks, finding your reaction amusing, “And kind of made a great point about me.”
“I don’t get it,” you chuckle in disbelief, “So you think I was right to put the blame on you?”
“I do,” he nods his head, “You were just the first one to say it to my face. Even I couldn't do that.”
“But I was wrong,” you shake your head, hoping that he’s only teasing you. Nothing about his expressions hints at that, “You know that the demons would invade our islands sooner or later, right? I heard about what happened with Vitraya Ramunong.”
“Yet, I was the one to lure them here,” he adds.
“I don’t understand. You were protecting your family.”
“I know. But it’s not over.”
You pause, confused, examining his face. Jake looks almost defeated, like he has accepted it, and has been living with it for a long time. You feel your stomach turn, as you recognize the nagging feeling of guilt. Feeling of being at fault. Like you didn’t deserve this life, while others suffered for you.
“You think they will come back for you?” you ask quietly, dreading his answer.
“I know they will,” he meets your eyes, his eyebrows tied inwards, “But I won’t let them hurt anybody else again.”
“What are you going to do?”
Jake doesn’t answer, instead staring off into the distance, deep in his thoughts. You think you know the answer already, everything alludes to your first conversation with him. But you don’t want to say it. Don’t really want to think about it either.
“Y/N, can you come in?” Neytiri interrupts your moment, as she leans against the entrance, “Neteyam wants to see you.”
“Sure,” you stand up. You exchange a knowing look with Jake, and try to push the bad thoughts away before walking in.
As Neytiri rushes her children out of the marui to give you some space, you catch a hushed exchange between Lo’ak and Kiri.
“You’re delusional, Lo’ak.”
“They came for us together, you idiot.”
Neteyam lies in a sit-up position, his back leaning against the wall. He smiles, as you sit next to him, his hand immediately taking yours.
“Missed me?” you tease him. Neteyam rolls his eyes before his lips stretch into a smile.
“Of course I did.”
He pulls you gently towards him, bringing his other hand to your face. You stop breathing in anticipation for his lips to touch yours. Instead, he nuzzles your cheek with his nose.
“What if your family sees?” you whisper, closing your eyes.
“Let them.”
You pull away to read his face. He looks tired but his eyes are brighter than ever. A playful smile sneaks onto his face, before he speaks.
“They must know by now anyway. Tuk likes to blabber.”
“Oh, right,” you recall the kiss he gave you on the ship. Both Tsireya and Tuk saw you.
You lean in again, cupping his cheek. Your thumb slowly traces the dark blue stripe on his cheekbone, disappearing into his braids. Neteyam closes his eyes under your touch, and it makes your heart flutter. You kiss him softly, gently. Afraid that if you press your lips against his any harder, he will break into pieces. It doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate, his arms sneaking around your waist and pulling you closer.
Smitten by the taste of his lips, you feel the urge to hold him. You rest your palms on his chest, feeling the bandage touch your skin, and before you can’t register, you involuntarily press against him. Neteyam moans into your lips with a mix of pain and pleasure. Immediately, you pull away, examining the damage. He looks fine.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe out.
“It’s alright, come here,” he opens his arm, encouraging you to sit by his side.
Carefully you nuzzle against his side, his arm draping over your shoulder. The tiredness from your sleepless night and the lack of food, makes you a little dizzy, and as you close your eyes, you eventually doze off.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
You shift slightly in your position, hearing hushed whispers next to you. You recognize Jake and Neteyam but it takes you some time to start making out their words. You don’t open your eyes, pretending to be asleep.
“Lo’ak said we won?”
“Yeah, kind of,” Jake’s voice is hesitant.
“So, that man is dead?”
“He is.”
There is a small pause before Jake speaks.
“I’m very proud of you, son.”
“Thank you, dad,” Neteyam’s tone is shy.
“And I think you chose very well,” you can’t see it but you can feel Jake’s eyes pointing at you. Neteyam shakes slightly underneath you, letting out a low chuckle.
“Son, I knew that I would have to talk to you about this one day, yet I am caught off guard,” Jake admits, a hint of fear evident in his voice. You wonder where he's taking this. Maybe you should pretend to wake up to give them privacy?
“Why?”
“Well…” Jake breathes out loudly, “You know that even after getting Eywa’s blessing, you two can still take your time. I mean, there are other things you can do to… give each other pleasure.”
“Dad, please don’t -” you can feel the blood rushing to Neteyam’s face in embarrassment. You hold yourself back from cringing.
“I’m just saying. You don’t have to feel pressured to mate right away. Having kids this young can be too much,” Jake lowers his voice, “I want you to know about the -”
“I know, I know, dad, please stop explaining,” Neteyam pleads, as you silently pray for this conversation to end.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, the guys talk. Like a lot,” Neteyam’s tone turns even more embarrassed, as he admits.
“Alright then,” you hear Jake stand up, “I guess this went better than I imagined.”
“You mean it was supposed to be worse?” Neteyam mumbles underneath his breath. You try your best to force down the giggle forming in your chest.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
As you look down on the water, soaring high in the sky, you feel heavy-hearted. You hold tighter to Neteyam, looking around at the rest of the Sully’s, each on their ikrans, maintaining similar speed. Your eyes intuitively search for Lo’ak, feeling the most saddened for him to part ways with Tsireya and his soul-brother, Payakan. Even if temporarily.
“Don’t worry, Lo’ak, we will be back until they even get to miss you,” Jake raises his voice for him to hear. Lo’ak doesn’t react.
“Come on, brother, you know she’ll wait for you,” Kiri adds, her voice filled with empathy.
Sully's human friend, Spider, is seated behind Kiri, his small hands tight around her middle. You haven’t particularly taken a liking to him but Neteyam says he is a good friend. Besides, he will play a big role in Jake’s plan.
It wasn’t hard to guess what the plan exactly was. From the second you had your conversation with Jake, you knew that whatever he had been planning in the past few months was now a definite decision in his head. Unlike the rest of his family, you were prepared for the day when he announced that he and his family were leaving the Metkayina clan for the time being. And if the possibility presents, and the Sully’s can return safely, without endangering the clan, then Jake hopes to be welcomed back and stay permanently. Kindly, Tonowari agreed, wishing Eywa to accompany the Great Toruk Makto in his pursuit.
There wasn’t much arguing from his family, when they first found out. Of course, they were upset to leave yet another home behind, but they trusted this to be the best solution. Even Lo’ak, who was the most heartbroken by this, eventually gave up on protesting. Wherever the family goes, he has to follow.
Their human friend had a tracker in his mask. And knowing that he now joined the Sully’s, Jake guessed that it wouldn’t be long until he gets attacked again. So his plan was to make a demonstrative exit, flying away from the water, over the uninhabited, wild jungles of Pandora, until somewhere along the way, he would remove and drop the tracker. You would continue your journey, until completely hidden from the sky people, and live for a little while by yourselves. No communications with the human-friends from the labs. No interactions with other clans. Just the family. And, if everything goes according to plan, Jake hopes to return back to Metkayina, where his children felt accepted.
“Just think about it, brother. By the time we return, you will be a man. Even the Olo'eyktan will see you in a different light,” Neteyam turns his face to Lo’ak, “You will make no effort to make Tsireya choose you again.”
Despite the words of encouragement, you feel the heaviness hanging over Lo’ak. It must be hard to be patient, leaving behind not only a soul brother you found but also a girl you love.
Despite the words of encouragement, the heaviness of the moment is palpable. You can feel the sadness emanating from everyone, as they all look back on the water, flying on the backs of your ikrans.
Seated behind Neteyam, you hold onto his middle tighter, reminding yourself of how lucky you were to be taken with him. You nuzzle your face into his back, seeking comfort. Neteyam stretches his arm, patting you on the thigh.
"I see you," he says, loud enough for only you to hear. A rush of warmth spreads through your body, knowing that he truly does see you.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
part 1
wow, can’t believe this is it. also, can’t comprehend how other writers do this, it was a journey… i hope you enjoyed reading this, and please don’t forget to reblog and leave some comments <3
