It’s weird to think I’m living and breathing in the moment and I think of someone who has no idea who I am doing the same thing across the world at the same time, I’m living the same time period the same day as this person and he has no idea who I am it’s so weird to think about 🤔 May or may not be about someone specific
cw ⋮⋮ mdni ⋮⋮ nipple play ⋮⋮ oral fixation ⋮⋮ emotional vulnerability ⋮⋮ comfort sex ⋮⋮ 0.4k
“aemond…” you moan softly, back arching off the bed as his mouth closes over your breast.
he came back late, still carrying the day on him. he didn’t say a word when he walked in. just pulled your nightgown down and pressed his face straight into your chest like he couldn’t wait another second. now he’s nuzzling in deep, nose and lips dragging over the soft skin between your breasts before he takes one nipple into his mouth and starts to suck.
it’s slow at first. careful. like he’s trying to calm himself down. a low, shaky moan leaves him against your skin as he sucks, tongue moving in slow circles before he pulls your nipple deeper. you feel the wet heat of his mouth, the steady pull that sends sparks down your spine.
you slide your fingers into his long silver hair, holding the back of his head gently, keeping him there. your body arches up into his mouth without thinking, offering yourself, letting him take what he needs.
he groans again, the sound vibrating right through your chest as he switches to the other breast. he sucks slower now, flicking his tongue softly. one of his hands comes up to hold your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple he just left, wet and sensitive under his touch.
his hips shift against the bed, grinding down in slow, restless movements. you can feel how hard he is, how badly he needs the friction, but he doesn’t stop sucking. he stays right there, face buried in your chest, breathing you in between every pull of his mouth. you feel the tension in his shoulders start to loosen the longer he stays latched on.
you stay quiet except for the soft, breathy sounds that slip out when he sucks a little harder. your fingers move slowly through his hair, stroking, holding him close. letting him feel how warm and soft you are.
eventually his hand drifts lower, fingers sliding between your legs where you’re already wet. he touches you gently, rubbing slow circles while his mouth never leaves your breast. he keeps sucking like he can’t bring himself to stop even as his fingers move against you.
when it gets to be too much, he lifts his head just enough to look at you. you know what he wants before he can even get the words out. you give a small nod as you gently card your fingers through his hair.
he shifts up your body and pushes into you slow, the thick stretch making your breath catch. the second he’s inside, he drops his head right back down and takes your breast into his mouth again. he sucks as he starts to move — deep, steady thrusts that keep his face pressed tight to your chest.
you hold him there, fingers tangled gently in his hair. your soft moans mix with the wet sounds of his mouth on you and the slow drag of him inside you.
King Aemond of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Also known as: ✨babygirl✨
I'm watching The Last Kingdom. So glad to know Aemond has three fathers who actually love him in this series (not his real one 🙄).
On a more serious note, Ewan is such a great actor, though. Because going from Osferth, an adorable cinnamon roll, to Aemond, aka the devil... No, really. Respect!
Everytime someone mentions missing Ewan he makes a appearance so I shall make a summons so we get some crumbs in the next few days 🙏 I miss Ewan maybe he’ll idk pop up somewhere at some sort of premier or event praying to God to work his magic
My theory- This obviously her saying goodbye or begging one final time for him to stop going down the path she “Never.” Intended him to go down he will probably try to say something like “You don’t understand you’re the one being foolish.” Then she’ll grab him and say “I know I’m not Targaryen I’m no dragon rider or blood of the dragon but you forget you are of my blood too…My son…and I fear what you are becoming because….I just want my son back…”
Aemond will give a moment perhaps a pause and think a moment as she in the scene above shows affection and then says “It’s too late….Mother.”
And he’ll leave her hanging as she stands there and fully breaks down as she knows he was right.
Summary: Aemond Targaryen has a secret. One so delicate and shameful that he would kill anyone on the brink of finding out. He was the perfect son, a trained warrior and skilled dragon rider. And yet, he has fallen in love with a whore and, even worse, a bastard of his house— you.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x whore!Reader
Word count: 5034 words
Warnings: incest (kinda), smut, dubcon, unhealthy dynamics (aemond and the madame), mentioned underage sex in the past, loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, vaginal sex, canon typical misogyny, bit of angst, probably ooc aemond, you’re both eighteen years old, no mention of Y/N
Notes: I’m glad I finally have this done! This was so painful to get done 😭! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. Enjoy 💛
The night he first met you was the night he killed Lucerys Velaryon.
The night sky was pitch black, the rain poured down like fountains from the heavens, and not even the moonlight shone through the clouds as Aemond flew back to King's Landing on Vhagar's back and landed on one of the hills not far from the city.
His mind reeled, his pulse was too fast, and all he could see in his mind was the small dragon before Vhagar had sliced him in half in one bite.
It had been an accident. He only wanted to scare the bastard, but then Arrax had breathed fire, and Vhagar had not been able to stop herself. His old dragon had apparently taken that as a sign to attack, and now the boy was dead. Because of him.
The halls of the Red Keep seemed even colder and emptier than usual as he walked toward his mother's chambers. After all, she awaited his report on which of Lord Borros Baratheon's daughters he had chosen to be his future wife. He had already forgotten the girl's face.
And he had to confess what he had done, but she would understand. Alicent had been the only one willing to defend him when his eye was taken. She had wanted justice, and now, finally, he had gotten it. One way or another.
But the queen did not understand. She screamed, hit him on the chest, and paced back and forth to calm herself. His grandfather immediately spoke of war, and he found no pride in his old eyes either.
And when he finally tried to defend his actions and explain himself, his mother struck him in the face. His cheek burned. She had never struck him before.
Only Aegon. His older brother had always been the one who received her anger— often rightfully so— but now it was apparently his turn.
Hurt and humiliated, he left the Red Keep again that night to find a gentle hand elsewhere that would soothe him. Alicent was upset, Helaena was already asleep, and there were no other women in his life he trusted.
There was one more, but she was truly his last resort.
The Street of Silk was much as he remembered it when he was thirteen and his older brother had first taken him out into the city at night. In some twisted way, Aegon had certainly meant well, but Aemond had not been ready for it. Aegon had always been more lascivious, while he himself did not even often think about pleasure and sex. He was completely different, and that was why he had not enjoyed it the first time he was ridden by a woman.
He had hated it.
He had felt disgusting and dirty afterward, which was why for a while he even thought he did not need sex at all in his life, because a beautiful woman by his side, who would treat him with respect and gentleness, would surely be enough. Unfortunately, he had become a man by then and could no longer fight his desires.
Aemond had sworn never to return to this place, but he thirsted for a gentle hand that would hold and soothe him. His mother had not given him that, and he feared that his relationship with her was now soured.
The brothel smelled of sweat, perfume, and sex as he entered, and the one-eyed prince's stomach lurched. He was not shy— certainly not— and he did not look away as girls with bare skin snuggled against his sides, their hands seductively grasping his arm, trying to make him choose them for the night.
He was not here for just any girl, but for the Madame. He knew her, and he would rather have something familiar tonight than something unknown that might derail him again. Not after becoming a kinslayer a few hours ago.
"I must speak with the Madame," he said to one of the women who was not currently sitting on a man's lap. His tone brooked no argument; it was a command.
"Forgive me, my prince, but the Madame is busy," she apologized, curtsying slightly. His silver hair was hidden beneath his hood, but his eye patch and violet eye still betrayed his identity.
"For how long?" he persisted.
The whore looked him in the eye and shrugged. It was clear she did not really know how to answer him. "She does not wish to be disturbed, good sir. But perhaps you would take a fancy to one of our younger girls?"
Aemond rolled one eye and looked down at the dirty wooden floor beneath his boots. He did not want to know when this floor had last been cleaned. He hated the filth, the uncleanness, the stench, all of it.
This might be his brother's world, but it certainly was not his.
"We have a few maidens just waiting to be touched. One even looks like a Targaryen princess," the woman suggested, giving him a smile. It was filthy, and he wanted to leave immediately, but a single thought held him back.
If he could not have a mother's gentle, soothing touch, he could at least take his frustration out on someone.
"Show me," he replied, annoyed.
The whore immediately grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction where this valyrian whore might be. He shook off her hand with a shrug of his shoulder and followed her wordlessly. The sooner he was alone with this girl, the sooner he would feel better.
"We have only had her with us for a week, but Madame Sylvi has taught her everything she needs to know. She is beautiful and untouched. Daemon Targaryen's bastard, so it's said," she explained, and something about her statement piqued his interest. Not only was the girl apparently the daughter of the Rogue Prince, but also that she had only been part of this world for but a week.
Part of him hoped she would still be completely untouched by all this filth, because then it would probably be easier for him to share a bed with her.
You were lying on a silk sofa when he first saw you. Thin silken sheets covered your slim body, but they did not hide any of your feminine curves. The fabric was more sheer than covering. A string of pearls hung around your neck, probably to make you appear more expensive, and your long silver hair flowed in gentle waves down your back.
You truly looked like a princess of his house. Your features were young and soft, inviting. In another life, you could have been his sister, and he would have desired you. You were indeed a beauty.
The whore placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up and meet his. Your eyes— a dark violet that made him think of berries— were gentle, kind, and perhaps a little frightened. You were good.
"That is her. How do you like her, my lord?" the older woman asked, gently squeezing your shoulder, causing you to visibly swallow.
You were nervous, while he was frustrated and hurt. It would not be fair to take his anger out on you, but he was not a good man.
"She is pretty," he murmured, one eye roaming your figure. Your curves were feminine, young, and soft. He understood why his brother often stared at a maiden as if she were the water he needed to live. "How much?"
"Well, she is of valyrian descent and she is still untouched. We usually take ten gold coins for that."
A sneer escaped him and he shook his head, causing a silver strand of his long hair to fall across his pale forehead. The way the woman said that made him angry. He did not want to know how many times this has already happened here before.
A part of him still wanted to go to the Madame, but if she was busy, then he would have to find someone else. After all, one whore was as good as another.
He took his leather pouch from his belt and pulled out exactly ten golden dragons, pressing them into the woman's hand. She nodded, and with that, you were his for the next few hours. He could do whatever he wanted with you, and he would.
Slowly and carefully, you stood up from the sofa where you had been lying until just a moment ago like an object to be inspected.
"Follow me, my lord," you said in a gentle voice, leading him further into the brothel. The main area, with its dancers and musicians, disappeared behind you, and you led him to the private rooms, which were separated from the corridors by a large curtain.
You entered an open alcove and sat obediently on the corner of the bed, where you looked up at him with wide eyes like a little lamb to the slaughter.
Aemond drew the yellow silk curtain closed behind him and opened his cloak, which he placed in the alcove on the other side of the bed. He did not have to ask if you knew who he was. His silver hair and eye patch betrayed him.
He was already undoing the buckles of his leather doublet when you suddenly spoke: "How can I satisfy you, my prince?"
"Just as you learned," he replied with a shrug, placing his leathers on his cloak. He now wore only his tunic, trousers, and boots. Most of his skin was still covered, while he could see almost everything about you from the first second.
He was not sure if he should even undress completely.
He did not know you, and he had no interest in doing so.
You opened your lips to reply, closed them again, and looked down at the floor, thinking. You did not know what to do. You were a whore and you needed the money, but this was the night you would truly lose your maidenhead— to him, to a prince. You had always told yourself you were ready, but right now you were not so sure.
"Would you like to have me on my back or on my stomach?" you asked him, just as Madame Sylvi had taught you. She had promised you that this job would pay good money for little work, and you had naively believed her.
The prince hesitated for a moment, letting his one eye sweep over your face. He could not deny that you were beautiful. Your cheeks were soft and flushed, your skin flawless, and your eyes glittered like the stars in the sky. In another life, he would have loved to look into your eyes as he took you, but there you would not have been a girl from the streets, but a princess worthy of him— but you were not.
"On your stomach," he replied after a minute, and you nodded.
You gave him a gentle smile and turned around so you were propped up on your elbows and knees, your bottom facing him. Only then did you realize you were still wearing your thin silk robe.
"Should I undress?" you asked him meekly, because you did not want him to think you were a fool. You had just forgotten.
But instead of answering you, he asked you something else: "What is your name?"
You told him, and he nodded before placing his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. Your body was warm, and for a second, he forgot the rain that had poured down on him as he killed Luke. You were alive, warm. His nephew was not.
"Don't you want a kiss? Or my mouth? I can also show you what I—"
"No, I want you to be quiet," he interrupted, but his voice was gentle, not harsh. His touch was, too.
You bit your lip as the prince pushed up your robe until your lower half was exposed. His right hand remained on your hip, while his left hand stroked the soft, warm flesh of your thigh.
No man had ever touched you there. Only the other women of the brothel who taught you the act of self-pleasure.
Heat began to rise in your stomach as the prince's finger came dangerously close to your most intimate spot, making you gasp softly. He leaned over you and pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. And then another, and another, which felt surprisingly good.
But as you lost yourself in his touch, the prince's expression hardened. He had come here for a gentle hand on his cheek, kind words, and an encouraging voice. You were all of that, and you could give him all of that, but he did not want it like this. He wanted to take his anger out on something; he wanted to be the monster his mother accused him of being.
He unbuckled his belt and pulled out his semi-hard cock. He stroked himself a few times until he was a little harder, then leaned against you so you could feel him against your slit, which was not particularly wet yet.
You did not resist, because this was your job. You even wanted him, because he seemed strangely familiar. His hands did not roam lustfully over your body, and he did not jump on you like a wild animal, as another man might have.
He could simply thrust into you now, take your innocence, and vent his frustration, but for some reason he could not. For such a filthy, disgusting place, you were pure and good.
A deep sigh escaped the prince, and he simply leaned his head against your shoulder. He did not know what to do. On the one hand, Aemond wanted the closeness and intimacy, but on the other, he also wanted to get away from this place as quickly as possible. The smells, the noise, the people... he hated all of it. But surprisingly he did not hate you.
"Why do you work here?" he finally asked you out of curiosity. His breath was hot on your skin.
For a moment, you were not sure how to answer, still feeling his member against your bare thigh. Something was obviously on his mind, that much was clear to you by now. He probably had not even come here for sex alone.
"Because I have no other option, my prince," you finally replied.
"Why?" His answer came quickly, as if he had thought it through before yours.
"Because I have no money. My mother is a barmaid, I don't know my father, and I am a bastard. There is no other place for me," you told him, honesty evident in your gentle tone.
Aemond had a personal dislike for bastards. Not only had his mother raised him with that belief, but also because Rhaenyra's sons treated him like dirt, and one even stole his eye. The latter was finally resolved now that the boy is dead, but even so, he should still hate bastards. But you seemed kind, gentle. You possessed morals and a good heart. How could he in good conscience hate you?
"I don't want to hurt you," he murmured after a few seconds of silence, whereupon he pressed a series of gentle kisses to the skin of your neck.
"You won't. I mean, you could have pounced on me already, but you did not. I am already grateful to share my first night with you," you confessed quietly, and even here you were honest.
"Turn around. I want to see you."
His soft yet hard voice drew you into a trance, and you could not help but cautiously turn toward him so that you were face to face again. He was a prince, and you should dislike him for his privileges alone, but he was also beautiful.
Aemond carefully raised his hand and placed it gently on your cheek, his thumb caressing your soft skin. You were a bastard of his house, but you possessed the beauty of a Targaryen princess. The silver hair, the violet eyes, the flawless skin... not to mention the curves of your body.
"I made a terrible mistake tonight. I came here to forget," he whispered, his breath caressing your cheek and mouth— your lips.
"I can help you with that," you whispered back, leaning closer so your lips were almost touching. You were only inches away from kissing him. You wanted to.
"Oh, I am certain," the one-eyed prince whispered, bridging the last few inches and pressing his thin lips against your soft ones. You sighed into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him against you. There was no affection in it, but lust and a desperation you did not yet understand. One day, you would.
His hands found the string that held your silk robes together and pulled them open, letting the fabric flow like water from your shoulders and spread out beneath you on the bed.
He leaned back for a second to let his one remaining eye roam your now naked body, and he could feel himself growing harder in that same second. You were a feast for the eyes. His gaze lingered on your breasts, perfectly round and with small, rosy nipples standing erect. His hand found your left breast, and as you let out a soft gasp at the contact, he licked his lips. Your breasts were the perfect size for him to caress and play with.
His thumb continued to stroke the softness of your breast as his gaze continued to travel down your body. Over your stomach, your hips, and finally to your soft thighs and what lay between them, yearning for him.
"May I touch you?" he asked, his other hand gently moving between your thighs to feel the softness of your skin.
You nodded your head cautiously, looking at him like a young fawn just learning to walk. Your beauty was intoxicating, but he needed to hear you say it.
"Say it," he demanded again, his finger almost touching your most intimate part.
"Please," you whispered, and for the first time that evening, he felt a sincere smile creep onto his lips.
His fingers brushed over your pearl, causing you to let out a soft gasp that pleased him. The sound was genuine, not fake like those of the other whores whose fake moans howled through the walls of this establishment. He liked that realness about you.
His index finger drew gentle circles over your pearl, causing you to close your eyes and wrap your arms around the back of his neck to hold him close.
"My prince... Gods, that feels good," you whispered, giving him new courage. Aemond had not had many sexual experiences in his life, so your reactions and compliments actually mattered to him.
As he continued to stroke circles over your sensitive clit, his other finger penetrated your tight hole, bringing a grin to his lips as he realized you were wetter now. Your hands clenched on his broad shoulders, your nails digging lightly into his milky skin as he slowly pumped his finger in and out. He was far from an expert when it came to women's bodies, but he was a quick learner, and he quickly realized that you liked it when the tip of his finger hit a certain spot inside you that felt a bit spongy. Apparently, it must be that "special spot" he had read about.
"Aemond..." you sighed softly, moving your hips slowly back and forth in the same rhythm as he moved his finger inside you. Out of curiosity, he slipped a second finger inside you, enjoying the gasp that escaped your lips. You felt so much tighter now, and he already knew you would feel heavenly around his cock.
"Am I doing this well, little one?" he asked you, even though he already knew the answer, but you nodded anyway, your breath becoming increasingly ragged.
"So good. Please, don't stop," you answered him a second later, feeling your climax approaching. Out of instinct, you moved your hips faster, causing him to thrust his fingers into you faster, as if it were already his manhood.
He hummed softly. "And what makes you think I will stop?"
"Nothing! Please— please keep going," you stammered quickly, biting your lip to suppress your noises.
Aemond's other hand found your breast and began to massage it, finally sending you over the edge. A loud moan left you as a powerful wave of pleasure washed over you. He enjoyed the sight of you shivering, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you rode out your orgasm.
By now rock hard from your little show, he spread your thighs, placed his cock against your little hole, and thrust inside.
"Aemond!" you cried, not having seen it coming, still savoring the after-effects of your climax. Because he has prepared you, it did not hurt as much as you had expected, but he was big, which is why you still felt a sting.
"It will get better in a minute, it's all good. Relax, little one. For me," he whispered as his hand stroked your long silver hair. The touch was gentle, and you could not help but lean into it immediately.
The prince, on the other hand, no longer took any notice and moved his hips quickly and firmly against yours, because now he wanted to reach his own climax. That is why he had come here, that is why he had paid for you, and it worked. Your cunt made him forget everything that had happened just a few hours ago, and even though he knew it would all come back again to haunt him as soon as he got back to the Red Keep, it was still worth it to him now.
"You feel so good. I could stay here forever, in your bed, inside you," he murmured into the crook of your neck as your trembling hands slowly wandered into his silky hair.
He was not as loud as the other clients the others were tending to. Most of the men were loud and spat out rude comments, but you noticed that he was different. He let out a few quiet gasps here and there, and he was breathing heavily, but he was not loud. You wondered if there was a reason.
The feeling of your soft fingers stroking his hair and your velvety walls pulsing around him was the last straw. He quickly pulled out of you and spilled his seed onto your stomach. After all, he did not want any of his bastards running around these streets. He was more careful than his brother in that regard.
Breathing heavily and content, he lay down next to you on the mattress. For a few moments, neither of you said anything, and that was fine, because at that moment, no words were needed.
After a few minutes, you stood up on unsteady legs and fetched a bowl of water and two rags that had already been placed on one of the dressers, ready for use. You placed the bowl on the bed next to you and began using one of the rags to wipe the blood of your innocence from your thighs, as well as the remnants of your climax. Then you cleaned yourself of the prince's seed while he watched.
Aemond did not know what it was, but he found you even more beautiful now than before. Your hair was wild, your body bare, and your movements were calm and delicate. You no longer seemed nervous, but complete. He decided he wanted to see you like this more often— that he wanted to see you more often.
"I will be back," he let you know as he cleaned himself with the wet cloth.
"I am glad to hear it, my prince," you replied with a smile. You wanted to appear professional, but he was not buying it. Instead, he leaned toward you and pressed a tender kiss to your lips. One that sent shivers down your spine because you could not remember the last time someone had treated you with such gentleness.
And the one-eyed prince kept his word.
He returned a few days later, and this time he did not ask for the Madame, even if she had been available. No, he immediately demanded you. That evening, you did not have sex; instead, you lay on the bed together and talked. First about him, then about you, and then about anything and everything. He enjoyed your company even when he did not have you lying beneath him. Every time he finally left to sneak back into the castle before dawn, he left behind a pouch with more than enough coins for you. You hid half under your pillow while giving the other half to the Madame, as was mandatory for all girls.
You never told him that you now have to take on other clients. You did not have to tell him. He knew whenever he slipped your silk robe off your body and saw that your hips were a little reddened and bruised in places— the places where the other men held you while they used you.
Aemond did not want him to feel like just another client to you, so he started giving you gifts. Pretty dresses made of the finest silk of Dorne, strings of pearls from Lys, gold earrings with a sapphire, and even a hairbrush of your own so you would not have to share yours with the other girls.
Every smile from you made Aemond's heart leap in his chest, every kiss made his knees weak, and every touch made him realize that he was falling more and more in love with you. With a whore, and even worse, with a bastard of his house.
After he realized his feelings for you, he stopped coming to see you for a few days. You often saw Vhagar flying across the sky above the city, and you also knew that he did not prefer any of the other whores to you. Even the Madame was enraged that you were now obviously his favorite.
She found the gold you had hidden under your pillow and took it all, but that did not bother you. The money was not more important to you than the prince who gave it to you. You wanted him back.
Instead, you heard that two men had apparently sneaked into the Red Keep and murdered the king's heir. A day later, Aemond entered the brothel again and sought refuge in your arms.
"The boy is dead because of me," he whispered. His face was half buried in your hair. You lay halfway over him, letting your head rest on his chest, while his hand repeatedly stroked your spine. You were both naked, not to sleep together, but simply to be closest to each other. He was the one who had suggested it, and you could not say no— ever.
"Why do you think that, Aemond?" you asked him in the same calm tone.
"Because I was not there. They wanted me dead, but I was with Vhagar," he replied. He was not looking at you, but his one violet eye was unfocused, as if he were not looking at anything at all. His leather eye patch, which he usually wore, lay forgotten in the pile of both your clothes next to the bed where you had undressed.
"I just needed to clear my head. I— I have been thinking a lot. About the war, my family, and about you."
"About me?" you replied, surprised, searching his gaze, which he did not return. You had expected that he had simply been very busy as a prince of the realm and had withdrawn.
Your lover sighed and turned his head away from you, so that you only saw his profile, which looked as if the gods themselves had sculpted it.
"About the feelings that have been stirring within me," he clarified gently, still looking away.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Aemond," you said reassuringly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to show him that you would always be here, even if he sometimes lacked the words.
"But I want to tell you!" he spat, whereupon your hand withdrew. "It is just that I am ashamed of it."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of with me. Darling, you can tell me anything," you told him gently, yet firmly, because you wanted him to know that you actually meant it.
A deep sigh escaped the prince, but he knew he wanted to be honest with you. His heart would not allow anything else. "I have always hated bastards. Ever since my nephew took my eye, but my mother always told us how evil and horrible they were. Then, after my thirteenth name day, I began to find whores and sex repulsive. But you... I should hate you, but I cannot. I have tried, struggled with myself, but then I see the way you look at me, and I realize that you have become important to me."
Every single word he said made your heart race, and you began to hope. You had never dared to imagine what a prince's love would feel like, but now he was handing it to you on a silver platter, and you did not know how to respond.
"I will not make you false promises, little one. This between us exists only in this place. I will never be able to be your husband, and any future children will not be heirs of mine. The only thing I can give you is my love, enough gold, and possibly a house far away from this hellhole," he continued, finally turning to look you in the eyes. You had to see he was not jesting.
For a moment, there was silence until you finally nodded. You now knew the words you wanted to say to him: "I don't need gold, a house, or a wedding ring. I only need you."
The honesty in your voice caused the remaining walls inside him to crumble, and he leaned in to press a deep, passionate kiss to your lips. You kissed him back, and Aemond knew he could never let you go.
As much as he did not want to, he loved you. He always would, and you would forever remain his precious little secret.
I hope this isn’t Saltburn all over again and we only get 3 minutes of Ewan Mitchell screen time Don’t do us wrong Emerald don’t click bait Ewan Girlies again
