𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: man, i love bob floyd. i had an anon request for anything with bob being head over heels, and i accidentally took that and RAN! this got away from me so quickly bc the bob love/thirst clearly took over. requests are still open, but make sure you check the rules on my about page before sending one in! i am not so good with highly specific requests, but a character and trope/genre is always welcome! love y’all x ♥︎ liv
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐬: bob floyd, fluff that abruptly changes direction and heads into spice without warning (sorrynotsorry), classic “one-sided” pining trope, 6k words
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: very suggestive content (no minor interaction!), brief emo bob, phoenix is a boss-ass bitch and i love her, etc.
Every day, you did four small Things guaranteed to more quickly bring about the demise of Lt. Robert Floyd. The torture was insufferable, the agony extreme. He was so whipped that he sometimes worried he was following you around by floating like a cartoon character walking past a particularly delicious pie. And you had no earthly idea.
To begin with, Thing One: in the morning, you would walk into the cafeteria at Top Gun five minutes before breakfast stopped being served and training began and place your hands on his shoulders, squeezing gently and saying, “Gooood morning, Bob! Are we ready to fly and try our best today?” Bob would choke on whatever he was currently eating and attempt to fight out a sentence in response, but you would already be gone, joining the queue for food. He would watch you stand in line, laughing at everything everyone said and beaming sunshine.
You were so sweet, he could have stared at you for the entire morning, which he generally did. Sometimes he would snap to in the middle of a lecture and realize that he hadn’t absorbed a single word, too busy wondering what type of flowers you liked best, and would shift nervously in his seat, side-eyeing Phoenix’s notes to see what sort of life-saving information he had been missing out on.
One morning, the only thing written on the page of his beaten leather notebook when Bob left class was “Probably lilies. Violets maybe?”
You would break your back to make me break a smile
(+ uh, oh, I'm falling in love)
An imagine loosely based on the song Labyrinth of off Midnights by Taylor Swift ▪︎ read more Daemon & Aemond midnights imagines here: masterlist
themes: Aemond loses his eye at an older age (near the end of this) + there is no war (Rhaenyra is Queen), fluff, angst, mutual pining / warnings: language, mention of violence / word count: 5k
You and Aemond dance around each other for a long time, unable to make your feelings known to the other. Until an incident occurs, which makes him realize how important you truly are to him.
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It's a calm morning in King's Landing, and Prince Aemond makes his way throughout the castle, on his way to visit his dear sister Helaena and her children.
Aemond has proven to be a doting brother to her, as well as a caring uncle to Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor. It can even be said that he has seen these children grow, more than their own father, his frequently inebriated brother, Prince Aegon.
Aemond shakes his head in disappointment, as the thought of his brother crosses his mind. Surely, he doesn't expect to find him in Helaena and the children's chambers.
He walks through the half-open doors, and hears an unfamiliar voice reading to the children. Your voice. He sees you sitting on the floor, the toddlers in varying positions in front of you, your dainty hands holding a heavy book that you surprisingly looked comfortable propping up.
You get to a passage about a dragon, and promptly make a Roarrr! sound to the children, as if you were acting out a performance. Aemond can't hold back the amused snort that he lets out.
You raise your head, and hurriedly stand, curtsying to the prince, "Prince Aemond, your sister did say you might be visiting this morning." You feel flushed, embarrassed that he most likely heard you.
"Hmm," he takes you in fully, mildly pleased with what he sees, "and where is my sister?"
"She's gone on a stroll with the Lady Alicent, my prince."
"And who might you be? Just last week it was Alyanna who was attending to the children."
"My name is y/n, I am her newly instated handmaiden, my prince. Mistress Alyanna asked to take leave, sadly, I think due to unfair treatment from Prince Aegon."
Aemond nearly rolls his eyes in exasperation, and reminds himself to have a word with his brother about this later.
"I can leave you with the children, if you wish to have time alone with them?"
Normally he would order his sister's appointed handmaiden to wait outside, as he prefers not to have someone hovering over him. But he looks at you intently, hearing nervousness in your voice, and decides, "No, stay, please. Continue."
"E-mon!" the children squeal, noticing their uncle's presence.
You feel warm inside as you watch him lower himself to the floor and hug the children. They seem very comfortable with him, which only says a lot about how he treats them.
"Good morning, sweetlings," he sits among them, Jaehaerys plopping himself on his lap.
You're unsure if you should sit with them. Would it be proper?
"Y/n, please sit," he orders, "the children wish to hear the rest of the story."
"Of course, my prince." You sit, careful with your skirts.
As you take the book in your hands, the prince adds, smirking, "And so do I."
Oh, gods. You swallow, nerves settling in your stomach.
Slowly, you pick up where you left off, although the prince notices that your tone has changed. Rather flat, more careful.
He decides to have a bit of fun with you, testing to see how you would fare, "If you don't mind, my lady, continuing in the same inflection as you had before? The raw emotion in your voice was truly something to hear."
You groaned in protest, and your hand flies to your mouth when you realize how rude that might have seemed.
"I apologize, my prince, of course I'll... uhh... read in the same- "
His hand rests on yours before you can finish your sentence, and you swear you can hear your heart pulsating. Oh for gods sake, he's just the Prince, not some bloody deity.
"It's no matter, go on," he says smoothly, applying the slightest pressure on your hand, before pulling away.
He could pass for a deity, though, due to his striking beauty and the way he holds himself. It almost... eerie. In the best way.
"Okay," collecting your thoughts, you recount the story, doing your best to focus on the children, who watch you in awe.
You could not shake off the fact that their handsome uncle was watching you as well, the pressure of it nearly weighing you down. His intent gaze effectively raising goosebumps on your exposed skin.
Moments later, much to your relief, you reach the final page and you're able to say, "... and The End. That's it, my darlings."
"Hmm." There is a pleasant upturn to the prince's lips, and you find yourself admiring its prominent shape. Looking down quickly, you try to avert your eyes so he doesn't notice your staring.
Though you find yourself saying, "Amused, are we, my prince?"
His smirk widens. Maybe you did have some fire in you.
"I am," he tilts his head, "you should be flattered, my lady, as it takes quite a lot to amuse me."
"I should be flattered that you find amusement at my expense?" You raise an eyebrow. You briefly wonder where you're finding the gall to speak to the prince in such a way, but you can't explain it. It's as if he's eliciting it out of you.
"Why?" he counters, "wouldn't you want to amuse your prince?"
"I suppose," you close the book, and put it aside, taking the wooden toy Maelor was handing to you, "I would. Given that he amuses me, just the same."
You stare at each other, your heart in your throat, arrested by his sinister, bright, blue eyes.
Until Jaehaera gets up, and puts her arms her uncle's neck, demanding attention with one loud "E-mooon!"
"My love," he laughs, and you find yourself wishing this wouldn't be the last you'll hear of the sound.
My new station might not be so bad, after all.
Aemond attends to Jaehaera, while you play with her brothers, until a smiling Helaena walks in the room.
"Aemond," she greets pleasantly, "you've met y/n."
You both stand, and Aemond places a kiss on his sister's cheek, "Hmm, I have," he looks back at you, before adding in a lower voice, but one he made sure you still could hear, "if I had half a mind, dear sister, I would have her attend to me, instead."
You can't help but smile at that, and Helaena does too, looking between you and her brother, then she muses, eyes glazing, "Lovely blue stone casting its glow, uniting tormented loving bones."
"Uhm," confusion shows on your face.
"Don't fret," Aemond says to you, "she does that often. My dear sister." He lovingly wraps an arm around her, before excusing himself to go attend to the council.
"It was a pleasure, lady y/n." He nods to you.
"The pleasure is all mine, my prince," you curtsy, one final time, before he leaves the room.
As Aemond walks to the council, he feels much lighter, and one thing's for certain. He's going to have to a word with his brother that you were not to be messed with, in any way.
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You walk through the streets of the Red Keep, Prince Aemond a steady presence by your side. Normally, you'd have Princess Helaena's sworn knights accompany you while you carry out the tasks she set out, but ever since a few months ago, Aemond has taken it upon himself to watch over you as well.
The two knights still follow, as per their duty, some distance behind the two of you, so you're not sure why Aemond continues to take useful time out of his agenda, just to walk with you.
But you didn't mind, all the same. You found yourself feeling at home in his company.
Since that day when Aemond walked in on your enthusiastic storytelling, which you still feel flustered just thinking about, he has visited Helaena and the children's quarters more often.
And by extension, by the grace of whatever gods exist, this means that he's around you a lot.
You've been able to see him as more than just a handsome prince to fawn over, more than a royal to pledge fealty to.
You've been able to see Aemond, who he truly is, as much as he has allowed you. And well, he's been getting to you as well, but you unknowingly brush his efforts off as him showing mere courtesy to the caretaker of his niece and nephews.
That is, until Helaena one day said, absentmindedly, "I'm happy Aemond visits nearly every day now."
"Princess? Hasn't he always done this anyway?"
"Hmm, well, yes, he did so, around once or twice a week if his council duties allow him the time."
You nodded, knowing that Prince Aemond held a valuable position in Queen Rhaenyra's great council.
She continues, "But now... he finds the time every day, even just for a few minutes, to stop by. I'm pleased about this little change."
You smiled, sharing in Helaena's delight.
Then she added, "I might have to thank you for that."
"M-me, princess?"
"Mhmm," she just smiled giddily, before turning away to work on her embroidery.
The memory replays in your head, as Aemond walks beside you, so close your hands brush each other once in a while.
If he notices, then he must not mind. You don't, either.
Today, you are tasked with picking up silks for the Princess' new dress. You and your company walk through the market, the people parting when they notice the Prince heading their way, knights in tow.
You don't notice the man coming from around the corner, carrying a huge straw basket on his shoulders, which nearly swings against your head.
But Aemond was quick to act, taking your hand and pulling you out of the way, close to him.
The man mumbles his apologies, to which you say, "It's alright, I'm okay."
But you look up at Aemond who seems to be glaring at the man, his voice cold when he speaks, "Watch yourself next time."
"Of course, my prince. Sorry, my prince." He scurries away in a rush, clearly fearing the prince's wrath.
As you walk on, you find that the prince has held on to your hand, even rubbing his thumb on it soothingly from time to time, and you don't protest.
You briefly think of how the two of you must look, hand in hand. Almost like lovers.
You turn away, your thoughts making you feel bashful. Aemond gradually halts, and with gentle fingers on your chin, turns your head to face him.
"Something the matter?" he asks coyly.
Oh he knows what he's doing.
His hand still grips yours firmly, while the other holds your face.
"Nothing, my prince."
He smiles, satisfied, and you continue on.
"I thought I told you to only call me by name," he says, "No need for the formality."
"It just doesn't feel right, prince Aemond."
"Why not?"
"Because you're the prince, and I'm just, well, me."
He doesn't say anything, simply walking on, until he says, almost to himself, "I believe you're more extraordinary than you allow yourself to think."
You look at him, appreciating his words, believing them. You realize just how much you've grown to trust Aemond.
At this point, you reach your destination, so say, "We're here... Aemond."
He smiles at you brightly, the sight of it so overwhelming, "Hmm."
Hmm, indeed.
You hand the tailor the scroll on which Princess Helaena listed what she needs, and he abruptly gets to work, retrieving materials from all around the stall.
You look around, Aemond doing the same on the other side of the room. Then you come across a tray of jewels, stones of different hues and sizes. The one thing that caught your eye was a deep blue sapphire, so beautiful it made the other stones look plain in comparison.
You pick it up, weighing it in your hand, smiling to yourself.
"See anything you like?" Aemond comes up behind you.
"Oh, yes, well. This is beautiful, isn't it? It reminds me of a pendant my mother once possessed. It also contained a sapphire, which I must say is my favourite stone. Blue is my favourite colour, you know?" You study the sapphire, bringing it up to look at it closely.
"Yes, I know, you've told me." Aemond smiles, his heart feeling tender as he listens to you musing out loud.
You speak up again, raising the sapphire to his face, "And look, it even matches your eyes. Equally beautiful."
His face lights up, "You flatter me, my love."
My love.
You're interrupted by the knight, entering the stall, addressing the prince, "My prince, might I remind you of the materials for your new royal cloak, as ordered by your Lady mother."
"Ah yes," Aemond says, face falling, "go see to it."
The knight nods, and goes off to speak to the tailor.
"Something wrong? Not elated at having a new cloak?" you ask playfully, thinking it to be just a light matter.
"Hmm? No, I suppose it's just... where I will have to don it for."
You become confused as to why his disposition has fallen, so you continue to ask, "A ceremony? Some tedious banquet?"
Aemond had told you once about how little he cared for the feasts and banquets, empty processions with no true objective.
His voice grows solemn, and he looks at you directly, as if to make a confession, "I am to have a courtship ceremony. My mother wishes to have me wed very soon."
"Oh."
You turn away, placing the sapphire back down, and desperately try to distract yourself with something else. You suddenly feel foolish for even imagining the two of you as lovers earlier. For ever reading too much into the prince's kindness.
Of course he will be married. And even if... even if... he actually desired you, he wouldn't choose you. You were a lady, yes, but your House was one of the smaller ones in Westeros. A small and humble, dormant stronghold in the Westlands.
Noone of any significance, at least, when compared to a Targaryen prince.
"Say something, my lady," he implores you.
You try to steady your voice, and it comes out cold, "That's good news, my prince. I wish you would find a fruitful union."
"Do you?" he matches your tone, almost mockingly.
"Of course."
Aemond suddenly feels irate at your coldness, but mostly, he hates that he may have caused it. It wasn't his fault, after all, was it? He's merely fulfilling his duty to his House, to his family. Who are you to make him suddenly feel wretched about the whole ordeal?
But he does. He feels empty, at the sight of you now, at how your smile has faded.
Aemond speaks again, his tone biting, "Thank you for your well wishes, my lady. I do want for myself a beautiful, noble wife."
"Sure, my prince."
"Fuck's sake, y/n, call me Aemond." he spits out, exasperated.
"My prince, we have acquired everything. We can leave now if you wish." The knight is back, with the goods held under his arm.
Aemond looks at you expectantly, and you're not sure what for. You say nothing, your mind still reeling at his impending betrothal.
"Very well." Aemond walks out first.
When you make your way back to the castle, Aemond walks faster, some distance ahead of you the whole time.
And you want nothing more than to return to your quarters, busy yourself with taking care of the children, and completely forget about their soon-to-be-wed uncle.
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You're in your private quarters, which are adjacent to Princess Helaena's, in case she might need to call on you.
You feel downtrodden, and you barely left the room today, asking leave from the Princess, stating that you felt rather ill. Helaena, kind and generous as ever, was quick to agree and even ordered the Maester to bring you some medicinal tea.
It has been days since your ill-fated visit to the Red Keep. This morning, Prince Aemond's courtship ceremony took place, and you had woken up with a sense of dread.
It must have finished already, I wonder who it was he chose. She must be beautiful, indeed, a highborn lady from an important House. A valuable ally to House Targaryen.
You try to focus on reading your texts, but you mind keeps drifting back to the Prince and whoever his chosen consort might be.
You worry about how it will feel, seeing him constantly when he visits the Princess and her children. Knowing all the while that you can never have him.
Why am I fooling myself? I never could have had him, and it had been that way since the beginning.
A knock echoes. Three, sure, raps on the wood, making you jump, not expecting anyone at such a late hour.
"Princess Helaena?" you ask, although you're fairly certain it isn't her, as she has already gone to bed much earlier. And, she usually calls out as well.
Nothing. The knock repeats, sounding more urgent.
You walk to the door, and you've only just opened it an inch, when it's pushed open wide. All at once, you're enveloped in Aemond's arms, his distinct scent intoxicating your senses, so close. So close.
Before anything can be said, he presses his lips to yours.
Everything else disappears. Suddenly, he isn't to be married, you didn't have an argument days ago, you no longer feel despondent, the pressure you feel about your lesser birthright is gone.
He is just Aemond, and you're just you. Lips dancing with each other, heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your hands reach up to each other's face, carressing blindly, like a fight on who will cover more ground.
It feels so good, so right, that a tear threatens to roll down your face.
He breaks away, only because he's out of breath, your face held like treasure in his hands, his forehead pressed to yours.
His eyes are shut, and lips are parted. His brows are furrowed, reflecting his frustration, impatience, his longing.
Then he opens his eyes, that endlessly arresting blue.
"I'm afraid... that I... have fallen in love with you."
"Aemond." The tear that you were fighting back, finally rolls down, and he catches it, looking at you in wonder.
"I would wed you if I could. If only I could," his voice breaks, all his emotion pouring out.
"I know." You feel numb, like you're floating on air. Both exalted and overjoyed, as well as broken by the impossibility of what you want.
"I fucking hate this," he seethes, feeling out of control, the one thing he's ever wanted, he can't truly have.
Then he spins on his heel, letting you go, hastily leaving out the door.
You had no idea that it would also be the last you would see of the prince, for a long while.
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News of the battle of the Stepstones spread like wildfire. The Targaryen and Velaryon armies were victorious in defeating the infamous Triarchy.
Apparently, it had been Daemon and Aemond Targaryen who served as primary catalysts for victory, their prowess in battle and their dragons tipping the scale over to their cause.
There were plenty of casualties, as is the outcome of war, but unfortunately, you had received word that Prince Aemond also suffered a grave injury.
The messenger did not specify on his condition, and simply heeded Princess Helaena that she may visit her battle-worn brother.
You and Helaena rush through the hallways, arm in arm, and you try your best to comfort her, but you feel dread yourself. Aemond dwells in your thoughts, taking over everything else. Is he alright? You're sure that you won't know peace until you find out.
You reach his quarters, the knight opening the door and announcing Princess Helaena's arrival.
The room is engulfed in shadow, and you catch a glimpse of him, facing away from you, sitting in front of his hearth.
You didn't understand. What was he afflicted with?
"Aemond..." Helaena starts to approach him, hands clasped nervously in front of her.
"Just you, sister. Your handmaiden is not needed."
Helaena turns to you, eyes widening, unsure of what to say. Sweet Helaena did not have it in her to just send you away, when she knew you were also concerned for her brother's wellbeing.
"Aemond," you call out to him, not able to see his expression.
"Leave us," he orders, clearly directed at you, and you're left with no choice but to follow. The knight ushers you out of the room, and when the door slams, you feel hollow inside.
He had pushed you away. Why?
You pace in front of the doors, as you wait for Helaena to come out.
A long while later, when she does, you take her hands immediately, "My princess, is Aemond alright?"
She turns her head, "Y/n, I cannot say."
"What do you mean?"
"He will... be fine. But that's all I can say, forgive me. I promised him." She pulls her hands away, and walks back to her quarters, expecting you to follow.
If there were no guards posted outside, you would barge inside and demand answers from him. Your heart ached for Aemond, and whatever pain he may be feeling. You wish desperately that he would let you be of any help, and you would do anything.
But the doors remain closed, with the guards looking at you pointedly, so you use what little strength you have left, and follow Helaena.
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Aemond has barely left his quarters since the injury, tormenting himself with self-doubt and feeding his rage.
For a prince who studied the sword nearly all his life, for a fighter who pore over countless battle strategies and combat methods, he was still overpowered.
And, by the fucking Crab Feeder, of all people.
The wretch paid his debt with his life. Aemond made sure to give him a torturous death, even with blood spilling out of where his left eye used to be, looking every bit of a madman as he felt in that moment.
Each time he glances his reflection, his bright red scar commands his attention, like a reminder of his weakness. His faults in battle.
Perhaps my visage has finally reflected the monster within.
Amidst his incessantly negative, obsessive thinking, you also manage to plague his mind, every now and then.
He remembers that night, before he was called off into battle, when he made his confession to you.
Was it all for naught? I am to be married, after all, mother already having picked the top prospects for me. Perhaps, I should just commit to my duties, and cease all this fanciful dreaming. Of her. Of... love.
But one thing that he also can't deny, was that it was your image that flashed by his eyes, like one last glance offered by his heart, when the knife struck him in the face, and he fell to his knees. Fearing it was the end, for just a moment, it was you whom he thought of.
How can you even look at him now, with the same admiration? Aemond's loss also bred a darkness inside him, simmering beneath the surface, and he fears he's no longer the same man you wanted.
But... but he's almost certain, that if he lets you go, it just may torment him all of his life. Haunted by what could have been.
No.You're inside of me now. The only man I want to be is the man whom you love. I need to know if you still see me, for who I am, after all this.
He slips out of his quarters, while the castle sleeps, with only you in his mind.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Someone knocks at your door, in a familiar pattern. You don't need to call out to know who it is.
With bare feet, you walk soundlessly towards the door, stopping just before it.
A moment passes, nothing.
"Aemond," you say, "I know it's you."
You walk closer, and rest your head on the wood, your hand coming up as if to reach through. You think you can feel him, on the other side.
"Y/n," he finally speaks, his voice sounding hoarse.
"Aemond," the both of you stand there, yearning lovers separated by a mere divide, neither one making a move.
"Don't... don't open the door."
"I won't," your heart breaks at how he sounds. Almost scared.
"I don't want you to see me like this."
As much as you long to see him in that instant, and how you know it doesn't matter how he appears, you grant his wish, letting him have this, "Okay."
"Would you like to sit?" you ask.
"Sit?"
"Yes, we can... sit with our backs to the door, and just... talk."
"Oh," is all he responds.
"Only if you want, of course." you say hurriedly.
"Well," he whispers. Then you hear shuffling from the other side, and a low thud that may be from his back hitting the wood.
You follow suit, and just sit, letting the comforting silence wash over.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"What for, Aemond?"
He responds dryly, "For this shit. I know it's not ideal."
"Oh my love," you whisper, and Aemond leans back, relishing the way you addressed him, "I'm happy to have you, however you'd let me."
For the first time since the battle, Aemond Targaryen actually smiles.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
For many nights, across the coming weeks, that is how you and Aemond would enjoy each other's company. He would come to your door, the hallways partially under the blanket of moonlight, and the two of you would simply converse. About your days. About stories. About his niece and nephews, whom he haven't yet visited since his injury.
Sometimes, you would just sit, with nothing needed to be said. Just content with the mere presence of the other.
One night, Lady Alicent heads to her daughter Helaena's quarters, wishing to leave something for her grandchildren. When she hears a voice down the hallway, one which she clearly recognizes to be her son's.
Alicent has been preoccupied with Aemond since the battle, worrying that he has been of low spirits, almost never leaving his quarters. Never allowing anyone inside, and letting them glance at his face, apart from herself, the maester, and his siblings.
He didn't want to see pity reflected in people's eyes, he had said blankly.
It pained her deeply to see her son so wounded, so lifeless. Aemond has always been a quiet boy, preferring to observe rather than to partake. Although, he is every bit a dragon as his name suggests, his fire revealing itself in his determination, in his relentless, tactical pursuit of his objectives.
And now, as he has suffered a damning blow, he remains quiet in a different way. One laced with self-loathing and dissatisfaction.
Which is why Alicent almost cannot believe her eyes, when she spies her son, casually sitting back against a door, speaking to whoever is on the other side.
And she is even more astounded when she hears it clearly. Her son, Aemond, lets out a laugh. Genuine, and light-hearted, the rare sound like music to her ears. She struggles to remember when she heard him laugh in such a way, even before the battle.
Alicent determines whose quarters her son sits by, right down the hallway from Helaena's. She had heard of you in passing, from Helaena, who had hinted at her handmaiden catching Aemond's eye. She did not think much of it at the time, and assumed it was merely a passing fancy. Her second son has never devoted much attention to such things, after all, unlike Aegon. Which is why she arranged for his courtship ceremony, in hopes that it might help him select a suitable consort, but his mind was somewhere else that morning. And now, she knows it that was on you.
She wonders what kind of a woman you might be, if you've been able to affect Aemond in such a way.
She turns around, and heads back to her quarters, so as not to disturb the both of you. A plan forms in her mind, and tomorrow, she would relay the news to her Aemond.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
The next night, you hear him knock, and you prepare to sit by the doors yet again. But then Aemond calls out, "May I come in, my love?"
You swallow, both excitement and nervousness settling in your bones, "Yes, come in, Aemond."
He enters slowly, and your eyes can finally feast on the sight him again. You look at him thoroughly, walking around him, ignoring the confused expression on his face.
"My love?"
"That's what you were afraid for me to see? Your eye?"
He swallows thickly, "Uh, well, the wound has healed much since the battle, and the maester has just crafted this eyepatch for me today," he says, pointing to his face. "It was horribly worse before, when I first visited you, and-"
You cut him off gently, "Oh, Aemond. I wouldn't have cared. My heart breaks for you, yes, and I wish you didn't have to suffer this injury but..." you move closer, reaching up to caress his sculpted cheekbone, "if anything, this only adds to your beauty."
"What?" he breathes out, smiling.
"Hasn't it been said that battle scars can add character?" you smile.
He blinks at you, like he doesn't believe what he's hearing, then just turns away, walking over to your bed, and uncermoniously plopping himself down on it.
"Fuck."
"Aemond?" you worry that you might have spoken out of turn, and walk over to him.
"You... you're amazing."
You laugh dryly, "Thank you?"
"I thought you would pity me, feel sorry for me. I thought you might be afraid."
You take a deep breath, and sit next to him. "I could never be afraid of you."
He nods, understanding now, and says, "I would like you to see something. Well, two things, actually."
"Okay."
With deft hands, he lifts his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire glowing beneath. With bated breath, he waits for you to speak.
"A sapphire," you breathe out in wonder. It truly was beautiful, and in some way, befitting of Aemond.
"There were several options, but when I was presented with this, I knew. It reminded me of you."
"Aemond," you whisper affectionately, "you're beautiful."
He smiles, "Hmm, and another thing." He then reaches out of his pocket and pulls out a chain, or rather a metallic necklace.
"Turn around."
You do as he says, awaiting the feeling of his gift on your skin.
Afterward, you look down, studying it, an interlocking silver sequence with a central pendant. And on the pendant...
"It's a sapphire, made out of the same exact stone as my eye. This way, my love, you will always have a part of me with you."
"Oh, Aemond," you continue to stare at your new necklace, the sapphire being the thing that warms your heart the most, "It's beautiful, thank you."
You can't help but reach for his face, and bring his lips to yours. He returns it eagerly, and he pulls you in closer by the waist.
"Oh, and another thing..." he pulls away, smirking.
"Another?" You're fairly certain he's surprised you enough tonight.
He smiles at you widely, his eyes sparkling at the thought of what he's about to divulge.
"What is it?" you press on, keen to know what it is that's uplifting him so.
"My mother, Lady Alicent, has agreed for us to be wed."
+ a/n | y’all want a part two y’all got a part two
read part one here
You awoke to pleasant birdsong, the mating call of a goldfinch overhead. The rising sun filled the sky with vibrant hues of orange and yellow. Sitting up from your bedroll, you rubbed the buildup of sleep in your eye. Your body was stiff from the departure of your bed the prior night and you stretched and rolled until you felt a little less rigid.
“Good morning princess,” Ser Harwin’s voice rang out, a little more rugged than normal from underuse. He cleared his throat as he approached you. The rest of the camp had already been packed away, save for your sleeping area, the fire embers smudged out. The stag from last night was draped on the backside of his horse.
“Good morning Ser Harwin,” you stood, bending down to clean up your bedroll before he stopped you. You watched as he swiftly cleaned up the area and packed the things on your horse.
You bent down to the underbrush, a blood red and black splotched flower catching your eye. It was large, almost as big as the palm of your hand. You thought you would bring it back for your sister, so you wordlessly walked over to your horse next to the knight and added it to your small bag.
“What’s this?” he asked, watching you. You shrugged in response. “I’m not exactly sure, I’ve never seen it before. I thought Rhaenyra might like it.”
The knight chuckled. “Lady of Dragonstone, Princess of Flowers.”
You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t help the grin that spread on your face. “And what about you? Knight of a… creepy, cursed castle?”
“Something like that, I suppose.” He flashed you a cheeky smile. “So, shall we return to camp and I can teach you how to properly skin an animal?”
You face must have given away how you felt about that prospect because Ser Harwin erupted into a booming laugh. “Fine,” he conceded, still chuckling. “But I have you til midday, so you might as well observe. I bet Larys would be happy to have the company…”
“I’d be happy to sit and watch with him,” you assured. Anything to get you out of sitting in the gathering tent with your new stepmother and the highborn ladies, talking about everyone and everything yet somehow saying absolutely nothing. It was a charade that was dreadful for both you and Rhaenyra.
Harwin grabbed your hips and hoisted you onto the saddle. You landed with a surprised yelp and readjusted to straddle your horse. “Sorry for startling you, flower,” you heard him quip beside you. You furrowed your brow at him and he winked back as he mounted his own horse.
You kept a slower pace than when you started yesterday, partly because of the stag on Harwin’s horse but also because some part of you wanted to stay in the Kingswood and never leave. This forest had reached out and touched a part of you that you knew you’d have to hide away at the Red Keep.
If Harwin could sense the change in your demeanor, he didn’t bother to comment on it. The whole ride back to camp was silent, even though for most of it your horses were side by side.
It was considerably more quiet when you returned than when you left the night prior. The men who hadn’t bothered to make it back to their tents were slumped over in chairs, sleeping off their drink. Others were milling about, beginning the day. House Strong’s tent was lined up along the main path and upon your arrival you saw Lord Lyonel and Larys outside of the tent. They were both planted on chairs in deep discussion.
Lord Lyonel rose at the sight of you and his eldest. “Princess,” he nodded. “Did you enjoy the hunt?”
Ser Harwin was already off his horse and offering you a hand down. “It was wonderful, Lord Lyonel.” You walked closer to him so that in a hushed tone you could say, “thank you for speaking to my father for me.”
He bowed to you. “Happy to see you smile again, princess,” he said softly.
Ser Harwin carried the stag and rabbit to the table beside his family tent. “I see the hunt was good to you both,” his lord father commented.
Harwin jerked his head toward you. “Not me, just the princess.”
Lord Lyonel’s eyes were wide at that. “Well then, princess, I daresay you’ve already outhunted most of the men here.”
You smiled up at him. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Your father will be very proud.”
You sighed. “One can only hope.”
With that, Lord Lyonel bowed and took his leave toward the main table where your father, his new wife, your half brother and the hand were all seated and you sat in the Lord’s prior seat beside Larys. “Pleasant morning to you, Larys.”
“Princess, lovely to see you as always.” He was a different fellow, sure. But you had always liked Larys. He was an observer, like you. Never very chatty, unlike you.
Harwin’s back was to you, setting up the various tools he would need to skin the stag and rabbit. He started with the rabbit and you watched silently. It was almost an art form for him, and you were completely mesmerized. You truly considered watching Ser Harwin skin every animal you could find for him, until Larys finally broke your train of thought.
“Is that your sister… covered in blood?”
Your head whipped past Ser Harwin’s broad shoulders and caught sight of Rhaenyra and Ser Criston Cole. Dried blood speckled the side of her face and neck as she strutted into camp. Her silver hair was stained pink and red. She looked… well, intimidating came to mind. Ser Criston’s horse had the body of a slain boar trailing behind it. Rhaenyra walked straight past the main table and into her own tent. The look on the Queen’s face made you smirk.
“It seems both our Princesses were on the hunt last night,” Ser Harwin commented as he continued to work on the rabbit. He had noticed your sister.
Really noticed her.
You swallowed hard.
You mentally scolded yourself. As if one night in the Kingswood somehow magically bound you to Ser Harwin. You felt like a silly little girl. Rhaenyra was your older sister after all, closer in age to Harwin than he was to you. How could you be so naive as to think he took you hunting because he liked you.
Rhaenyra was heir to the iron throne. She would become Queen one day. Marriage proposals were already starting to come her way. Why wouldn’t he want your smarter, prettier, older sister? What better way to get in her good graces than showing kindness to her little sister?
You had been chewing on your lip so hard you began to taste metal. You released it from in between your teeth and brought a finger to it. Pulling back you noticed blood, drying quickly in the morning air. Ever quiet Larys offered you a handkerchief, which you accepted with a small thank you. You dabbed at you lip, hoping it wouldn’t swell too much.
“Something troubling you, princess?” Larys gently prodded. You knew he caught you deep in thought but you had the benefit of him not know what you were internally struggling with. “Just… worrying about my sister,” you half-lied.
“Maybe you should speak with her,” he suggested.
“I think she would like to be alone right now,” you lied again. In all honesty you had no idea how Rhaenyra was feeling right now but you did know that you were one of the few people she would let be around her no matter what. You struggled to avoid biting your lip again.
Ser Harwin had moved onto the stag. He lifted it up and onto the skinning table with ease. “Would you like to come closer? Or are you having fun watching through my back?” He turned to face you, Larys’ handkerchief still pressed against your lip. He furrowed his brow at the sight. “What happened?”
You shrugged him off, offering Larys his handkerchief back. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
Ser Harwin twisted his head to the side and gave you a look as if he didn’t believe you. He walked over and half crouched over your chair, putting each arm on either side of the seat. He lifted you and the chair effortlessly, bringing you around the edge of him so that you could actually see what he was doing.
Harwin began asking Larys about last night after he left, whether he heard anything of interest from the ladies he sat with, interrupting every so often to point something out to you. You sat silently, watching each exchange. Harwin was skilled enough that he barely had to pay attention to what he was doing, and before long he was done.
“Well princess, this will certainly make an excellent addition to the feast.”
You thanked the knight and excused yourself. You walked straight to your own tent, only pausing to wave softly at your father when he acknowledged you.
You didn’t think you had ever felt so foolish. An aura of shame washed over you. You stripped yourself bare, removing you hunting clothes and washing yourself clean with a rag. You found a suitable dress and fixed up your hair. It was time to play princess once more.
You don’t think you said more than 5 words all night. Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found the first night and anytime that someone would try to acknowledge you, you would excuse yourself, only to end up in the ever generous hands of a wine servant who would fill your cup to the brim.
You continued this charade, night after night, albeit speaking more and more each time. Rhaenyra didn’t want to talk about her adventures in the woods, no more than you did of yours, so neither of you spoke about it. Rather you savored each others company and kept at each other’s side. You and Rhaenyra, with Ser Criston as your constant protector. Until it was finally time to journey home.
The journey home was as dreadful as the journey there, but to your delight felt shorter. You all but crawled into your bed, Rhaenyra and you holding hands until you arrived at your separate rooms. You felt great peace knowing she was next door, especially after mother’s death.
A knock at your door a few moments later almost made you groan aloud, but you managed to keep some semblance of decorum. “Come,” you instructed.
Ser Criston entered, not too unexpected considering he was watching your and Rhaenyra’s rooms tonight. “Ser Harwin Strong is here to see you, my princess.”
You bottom lip once again found purchase between your teeth. “Send him in.”
Harwin stepped in after Ser Criston stepped out, your small travel bag in his rather large hand. He held it out to you and you sprung out of bed. “Thank you,” you said sincerely, fingering the expensive leather. “I had forgotten all about this.” You reached into the bag. “Rhaenyra’s flower,” you muttered under your breath.
You quickly walked over to a large stack of books. Ser Harwin trailed behind, watching as you took the flower and stuck it in between a bit of parchment paper. You began lifting the books in two and threes at a time. He could tell they were dusty, old and heavy. He quickly walked over to you and began to lift them out of your way.
You thanked him so quietly he almost missed it. He wanted to ask what you were doing but he was stuck in such a trance, all he could do was watch. You very carefully opened the book on the very bottom, sticking the flower and bits of parchment paper inside. He noticed other bits of parchment paper sticking out of the book every which way. You motioned to the stacks of books and he helped you lower them on top of the bottommost book.
“Princess…”
“Thank you for this, Ser Harwin.” Your kind eyes found his and he felt himself smiling for the first time in days.
“Princess, might I ask, what is this?”
You giggled as you handed him a smaller book. “Princess of Flowers,” you declared, as if that would explain everything. “Go on, open it.”
He opened the book and found about half a dozen flattened flowers. Your delicate handwriting was on the pages, describing not just the name of the flower but when you found it, the characteristics you liked most about it, what the smell reminded you of.
“I pressed them myself. Mother taught me. Rhaenyra was never interested and it was… our thing. Now it’s one of the only things I have left of her.”
Ser Harwin studied the pages. He touched the dried ink of your handwriting, careful not to touch the flowers. “Princess of Flowers,” he breathed.
He gently handed back the book. You closed it and put it back where it belonged on the shelf. It was only then that he noticed just how many stacks of books you had. He looked back to you, waggling a finger at him. “Don’t start,” you warned, grin creeping along your face. “If Maester Runciter finds out, I will be in a dragon’s pile of trouble.”
“Dragon’s pile?” he asked.
“Er… when they go to the bathroom? Well, imagine the size of them Ser Harwin,” you enthusiastically raised your hand above your head. “You know what I mean? Aerrax might not be the biggest, but she’s pretty large…”
Ser Harwin was laughing so hard at this, he had trouble staying upright. He leaned against one of the many decorative beams in your room. His laughter was contagious, and soon you were joining him, failing miserably to catch your own breath.
Finally after a few minutes, you both pulled yourselves out of your laughing attack. You feigned exhaustion and plopped your bottom on the rather large chaise in your room. You patted beside you and watched as he walked over to the chaise and sat down next to you.
“Oh!” you exclaimed. “I have your dagger!” You began to hop back up but Harwin grabbed your forearm, gentle but stiff. You furrowed your brow at him but sat back down.
“Princess, I came here not only to return your bag but to ask you…”
You waited with his pause until curiosity got the better of you. “Ask me what exactly?”
“Ask you… if I did something to upset you. During the hunt, for Aegon’s name day.”
You bit your bottom lip nervously. “What would cause you to say such a thing?”
Harwin stood from the chaise suddenly, rubbing his fingers down his beard as he walked around. “Princess,” he stopped pacing to look at you, “you left so suddenly. You barely said a word when you sat with Larys.”
“I…” you faltered. “Seeing Rhaenyra like that, both of us fighting with father the day before… it has been… a difficult few years. I apologize for my behavior.”
Harwin returned to the seat next to you. “You don’t have to do that you know, play politician with me. We’ve known each other since we were children.”
You turned to face him, grabbing his bicep gently. “I am sorry though. For making you think that. Especially after you were gracious enough to take me into the Kingswood.”
Harwin chuckled. “I can promise you that was the highlight of the entire celebration for me.”
He used the arm you weren’t holding and brushed a few strands of hair out of your face. “Keep the dagger.”
“But…”
He shook his head. “It was a gift, princess. I never intended to get it back.”
You were still holding his bicep when Ser Criston entered. You nearly jumped out of your skin at his voice. “Princess, your father is requesting your presence in his chambers.”
You dropped Harwin’s bicep as he stood. He offered you a hand which you accepted with a nod and he pulled you to his feet. “I’m afraid I must be off anyway, princess.” He motioned to the gold cloak covering his shoulders.
“Duty calls… for us both.”
Ser Harwin nodded in agreement with you and offered his arm. “Shall I accompany you to his chambers?”
Ser Criston stepped closer to you. “I’ll take her from here, Ser.”
You shooed Ser Criston with you hand. “It’s quite alright Criston, I think Ser Harwin can handle keeping me safe from the treacherous walk to my father’s chambers,” you giggled.
Sers Harwin and Criston shared a glance above your head while you gently gripped onto Harwin. He led you out and away from Ser Criston, who was still outside yours and Rhaenyra’s doors, watching you both disappear down the hallway.
“I hope your nights in the City Watch haven’t been too eventful,” you confessed.
“Nothing I can’t handle princess, not to worry.”
“Well maybe I’ll wave at you from the skies tonight.”
Ser Harwin stopped in his tracks, pulling you to a stop with him. “Princess,” he warned. “You mustn’t be out after dark without protection.”
You suppressed a role of the eyes at him. “Aerrax can protect me. Plus, what do I have to worry about above the clouds? Birds? Nice snack for her if you ask me…”
“Princess, just… be careful, okay?”
You rubbed the side of Harwin’s arm that you were gripping. “Of course,” you reassured.
“You have a knack for finding yourself in trouble.”
“Oh please! As a child maybe.”
“I mean it, don’t find yourself outside of the Red Keep without protection,” he warned.
“Well if I ever take a spontaneous trip to Flea Bottom, I’ll make sure you’re on duty.”
Ser Harwin decided to ignore your obvious sarcasm. You continued on together through the corridors.
“Here you are, flower,” Harwin said, bringing you up to the door.
You dropped your grip on his arm. “Thank you Ser Harwin.”
Daemon beheading Vaemond in the throne room for calling Rhaenyra a whore - he’s been too quiet these past few episodes i’m glad to see him be a menace again
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