Aemond Targaryen x female!Targaryen!Reader x Aegon II Targaryen
While you share little sympathy with any of the people present, you know you can’t get any closer to learning about your heritage than you are right now. Aegon and Aemond are served to you on a silver platter, and if there is one thing your grandmother has taught you, it’s that there certainly is one way to charm yourself into a man’s heart to get what you desire.
WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MDNI; canon typical incest/targcest (reader is the granddaughter of Saera Targaryen), threesome, p in v, oral (m receiving), semi public sex, voyeurism, high valyrian, reader has silver hair and lilac eyes
WORDS: 4.3 K
NOTES: I finally put my thoughts of this scene into words! Enjoy! Thanks to @sylasthegrim and @zaldritzosrose 🤍
The stench of sweat and wine alike fills the brothel, following you as you roam through the crowd of patrons and whores, pushing past the several curtains that separate the lounging chambers from the more… private areas.
Is that what your grandmother had in mind when she sent you away to learn more about your Targaryen heritage? You highly doubt it, but the madam, Sylvi or so you have learnt, does everything in her power to make your stay as pleasant as possible. Perhaps that is just because she owes your side of the family something neither women dare tell you, yet you care too little to delve deeper into the topic.
Saera Targaryen has grown frail over the years, approaching the age at which the Stranger had taken her own mother back in 100AC, and rests on her laurels she’s earned herself over the years working in the pleasure gardens of Lys before she eventually built her own kingdom in form of a pleasure house in Volantis.
Therefore it definitely is not a surprise you’ve taken after her. Partly, at least, because although you wander through a brothel, your long, silver curls and lilac eyes catching the attention of several men around, it has always been up to you to decide if you grant them your attention or not – the earned, well-deserved respect and reputation of your grandmother clearly coming in handy.
You balance a tray with a chalice full of wine and two goblets on your hand as you prowl through the busy rooms, even though getting drunk is not what most men come here for. There is nothing out of the ordinary taking place – until a flash of silver hair comes into your vision.
You have grown used to the presence of the late king’s second son, Prince Aemond Targaryen, by now, visiting the brothel almost every night to seek comfort in the arms of Sylvi. And since tonight was no different, you’re certain the brothel has been granted the presence of not one but two Targaryen men at once; the newly crowned king donning an attire no commoner could ever afford.
Blending in with your surroundings never was too difficult, not when everyone was occupied anyways. You place the tray aside and cling to the walls and curtains as you follow him and his entourage, trying your hardest to make out what they say while not getting caught.
But even before you can fully process the bits of information you’ve gathered, Aegon starts to pull aside one curtain after the other, revealing the private quarters for the well-paying patrons. While most of them do not care, that much can not be said about the patron within the third room.
Where you haven’t heard his voice before, his howling laughter all but bounces off the walls. “Aemond the fierce,” he mocks in between laughter, pointing at his younger brother. “You have come so far, and yet you still lie with your very first.”
With Aegon stepping towards the settee, an embarrassed Aemond comes into view, and while you share little sympathy with any of them, you know you can’t get any closer to learning about your heritage than you are right now. Aegon and Aemond are served to you on a silver platter, and if there is one thing your grandmother has taught you, it’s that there’s one way to charm yourself into a man’s heart to get what you desire.
In a quick act, you slip out of the flimsy piece of Lysene silk that hugs your curves, baring yourself completely. You swallow thickly as you make your way toward the room, striding past the king’s men and into it.
“Nyke gōntan daor nūmāzma naejot mazverdagon ao umbagon, ñuha dārilaros,” you say, clearly talking to Aemond. Your voice is smooth, despite the slight Lyseni accent weaving itself through it. I did not mean to make you wait, my prince.
The prince is clearly dumbfounded, but not as much as the king whose laughter has suddenly died off again, the cocked eyebrow indicating that he’s just as surprised as his younger brother is. None of the people involved speak, yet curiosity is written all over their features.
“My… My apologies for letting you wait, Prince Aemond.” Your eyes flit over to Sylvi, a meek smile on your lips. “Thank you for keeping him occupied while I tended to another patron, madam.” She gives you a soft smile, one that a mother gives, and nods to you before she leaves the room – figuring your intentions.
You walk around Aemond, softly grazing your fingertips over his shoulder as you come to stop in front of him. From where you stand, you can see Aegon sitting up a little straighter, curiosity and lechery alike flickering in his eyes.
“Have you found a new whore, brother? Do you fuck her like a hound? Woof!” Aegon mocks, his eyes dragging over your naked frame.
While the prince clearly is surprised by your actions, there’s also some sense of vulnerability still surrounding him, making him shun away from the encounter.
Raising a brow, you tilt your head down to look at Aemond who’s not meeting your gaze. “My apologies, my prince, but have I known that His Grace intended to join us tonight, I would have prepared… finer quarters for us.” It’s a bold statement, you know that, one that allows Aemond to take charge in this conversation, to save himself from any more embarrassment.
And much to your surprise, that finally stirs something in him.
Aemond tilts his head, meeting your eyes, before he turns slightly to look at Aegon. One of his large hands clasps around your wrist, effortlessly pulling you on the settee right next to him. There might be a hint of protectiveness and jealousy coming over him, having no desire to let his brother take advantage of you now, but it’s also the want to consolidate and prove his superiority, that he’s not the failure his brother makes out of him. He has looked more like a wounded dog rather than the fierce dragon prince he is when Aegon has caught him with Sylvi, but that is no more.
“Oh, this is completely sufficient for His Grace. Besides, we do not mind the company, do we?” Aemond asks you now, trailing his hand over the curve of your waist. “The more the merrier.”
The proximity and his touch causes a shiver to run down your spine, and for a moment it’s you being at a loss of words. You lean into his touch, an amused smile on your lips as you look over to Aegon. “Are you sure that is what you want, my prince?” you ask in a low whisper that’s only for Aemond to hear. “I am certain there would be another woman gladly taking care of His Grace…” you speak louder now, gaze flitting over to the king’s dumbfounded entourage, silently watching the exchange. “... or rather his squire.”
But the king wouldn’t be a Targaryen, if he didn’t enjoy a challenge every now and then.
His lips curve into a wide smirk, almost smug, as he flicks his hand to dismiss his following. “Ah, it seems you have found yourself a feisty one, brother,” he notes. “I wouldn’t mind being entertained by both of you at once,” he suggests, the smirk growing even wider. “It would be a shame not to share such beauty with your own blood, would it not?”
You feel Aemond’s grip on your waist tighten, squeezing your flesh almost painfully harsh. “Very well,” he agrees, his jaw clenching almost as if he’s biting down the words. “You may stay and watch if that’s what you desire so much, Your Grace, but you will not touch her.”
The elder raises his hands in feigned surrender, chuckling. “Of course, I won’t, brother,” he assures in a sarcastic tone. “I shall only watch the delightful performance you two are about to put on for me. And it will be my turn to join when she begs for me to finish what you can not.”
“Save your breath,” he spits. “You will not hear such words leave her lips. I guarantee it.”
Sensing the tension growing between the brothers, both very clearly sharing the hot blood of the dragon, you know it’s your time to de-escalate the situation before it goes any more wrong and ruins your chances of retrieving the desired information.
You gently place a hand on Aemond’s chest, your fingers tracing a soothing pattern, and flash him a reassuring smile. Only once you notice his tensed muscles easing very slightly do you turn to Aegon, smile widening as you speak in a sultry tone.
“Now, my king, do not get ahead of yourself,” you say. “You first ought to see what your brother is capable of. But I assure you, you do not have to worry about me being unsatisfied.”
The prince’s annoyance at his brother momentarily vanishes with your gentle touch and words, the possessive heat he feels only fueled by it. His hand moves up from your waist, gently wrapping around the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his. “Indeed,” he agrees with a smirk. “You best watch and learn, Aegon. I shall be generous enough to give you a show worth watching.”
With his warm breath fanning over your lips and his intense gaze all but burning into yours as he speaks, you feel yourself unable to wait any longer for something that initially was not what you wanted, acting before thinking and pressing your lips to his for a heated kiss.
A sense of urgency weaves itself through his movements when both his hands clasp around your waist, pulling you right into his lap without breaking the kiss once. He is hard and heavy beneath you, nestled tightly between your soaked and swollen folds. You subconsciously start to grind against him, sliding back and forth and coating him in your essence.
Aemond’s soft grunts and groans rumble in his chest and you swallow them greedily. Your hands entangle into the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tilt your head back to whimper against his lips the moment the tip of his cock rubs against your pearl.
You have all but forgotten that it’s not just the two of you in this private space, at least until Aegon’s heavy breaths ring in your ears. But you can’t bring yourself to look at him, not because you’re embarrassed by the current predicament you’ve found yourself in, but because Aemond seizes all of your attention by lifting your hips to align his hard cock with your entrance.
A shuddered breath slips past your lips at the feeling of his cock slowly stretching you open as you sink down, his grip on your hip growing harsher with the tight embrace of your wet and warm cunt.
Once you’re fully seated, his grip urges your hips back and forth, not giving you a moment to adjust to his size and the painful sting of accommodating his girth. The tip of his cock brushes your sweet spot with every movement, coaxing one sweet sound of pleasure after the other from your lips already.
You dare looking at Aegon sitting on the settee with you, albeit not longer than a few seconds, and while you notice his gaze neatly fixed on you and his brother with a smirk remaining on his lips, you also see that the sense of mockery in his eyes slowly starts to fade away to something entirely different.
Quickly averting your gaze, you focus on Aemond, leaning over him to brace yourself with your arms slung around his neck. Your walls clench around his solid weight inside of you as they start to move faster, the grinding becoming more determined and purposeful.
It’s the quiet, strained ‘fuck’ the prince beneath you releases with his head tipped back that causes a surge of boldness and confidence to soar through you, tearing your gaze off of him to lock it with the king’s. Flitting down, your glossy eyes fall to his hand rubbing and squeezing his hard cock through his black breeches at the sight of you mounting his brother like he mounts his beloved dragon.
With his back facing him, Aemond does not seem to have a clue about what his brother is doing, yet you’re not quite sure if he even cares about it or his presence in general. If anything, it could be counted as the validation he’s come to crave.
Blissful moans start to pour from you as you finally find the most pleasing rhythm, the tips of your fingers burying themselves into the plane of Aemond’s broad, muscular shoulders. He barely hisses at the pain, too occupied dragging his nose along the curve of your neck and shoulders to your tits, before one perky bud is immediately embraced by his lips.
You continue grinding down on him, sucking his hard member in with each movement, sobs and moans of pleasure steadily streaming out of your mouth. It’s the gentle nips of his teeth that make your eyes squeeze shut in delight, the fire inside of you causing you to tear your eyes off Aegon.
The angle in which you grind your hips down on his allows you to rub your pearl against the base of his cock, the wispy, silver hair at it dragging against it enough to slowly tighten the knot inside of you.
But much to your surprise, the pace and rhythm doesn’t seem to be sufficient enough for Aemond, despite the grunts and groans that rumble in his chest, and you soon enough find yourself ripped away from the growing pressure inside of you, flipped over to lie flat on your belly, facing Aegon now and looking up at him with wide eyes.
You hardly have time to catch a glimpse of Aemond from over your shoulder before he positions himself between your parted thighs, forcing his cock inside of you in one, swift thrust that knocks the air straight from your lungs. You scramble for anything to hold onto to keep yourself grounded, knuckles turning white from how tightly you're fisting the sheets.
His upper body slightly bends forwards and towers over yours as he rests one hand at your shoulder and the other at your hip. The pace of his thrusts is nothing short of ruthless, and he uses the grip he has to pull you back onto his cock for your bodies to meet halfway, the most obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin perfectly audible, hardly drowned out by Aegon’s grunts and groans.
“Are you enjoying the show, Your Grace?” Aemond suddenly rasps between heavy breaths, voice laced with a hint of mockery and challenge. “Perhaps even learning something useful about how to pleasure a woman?”
You spot Aegon’s gaze darkening slightly at his brother’s words, clearly trying to hold back any sarcastic remarks that tingle in the back of his throat. “Oh, I am enjoying this very much,” he replies, voice strained. “But I do not need any lessons from you. I know my way around a woman’s body just fine.”
Aemond huffs, and although annoyance sparks within him, he masks it well behind a smug smirk and a low chuckle. His hands grip your flesh tightly, surely leaving some bruises the following days.
“Oh, truly?” Aemond says sarcastically. “Then perhaps you would like to indulge us and demonstrate your skills, hm?”
No matter how hazy and clouded your mind has grown by the reckless pounding of Aemond, it turns crystal clear the second you fully process his words. Aegon seems just as dumbfounded by the offer as you are, yet he’s quicker to speak and act.
Rising from his position on the settee, he lets out a low chuckle. “Well, I’ll play along,” he rasps, already undoing the laces in the front of his breeches. “I shall certainly not decline this invitation.”
He pulls them down enough to free his cock, hard and standing to full attention. You swallow thickly at the sight, and clench down harshly around Aemond which makes him choke on a groan.
Aegon walks up to your side as if he means to drive his brother away to take his place, but Aemond merely scoffs at that, and serves a harsh slap to your arse that makes you squirm and whine. “You may use her mouth, and her mouth only,” he clarifies, tone firm. “She is mine, and I shall not let you claim more of that.”
Cocking an eyebrow at his words, Aegon raises his hands in surrender. “Very well, then,” he replies, climbing onto the settee. Not a moment is wasted by him once he’s settled in front of you to tap your lips with the tip of his cock, silently commanding you to part them for him.
But you don’t allow him to slip past your lips right away, and instead drag your tongue over the tip, following the small slit and gathering some of his arousal before you trace it along the vein on the underside of his cock. He’s all but purring at that already, your little performance riling him up to the point he’s just desperate for relief.
Aemond’s stones are heavy and the pouch they sit in is slightly slagged, hitting your pearl perfectly each time he snaps his hips into yours and fills you to the brim, sending shivers up your spine. It only makes your desire to have Aegon’s cock in your mouth more adamant, and eventually you stop your teasing and take him inside.
While you’re propped up on both your elbows, you wrap your hand around the bit of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, moving it along in rhythm with the bobbing of your head.
Each one of Aemond’s thrusts pushes you toward Aegon, forcing him deeper down your throat as if you aren’t struggling already. “That’s it,” Aemond grunts, voice strained, and the snaps of his hips increase to the point your whines become hiccuped, caught in your throat and muffled by Aegon’s cock. “Such a damn good girl for us.”
Aegon is generous enough to pull back completely every once and then, allowing your lungs to fill with air before he sinks back into the warmth of your mouth again. You bring one hand up to rest on his thigh as a means to slow his pace and force, but his desire is getting the worst of him.
Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your lips, down your chin and throat with how fast he pushes into you, meeting his cock halfway with the force of Aemond’s thrusts. The lewd sounds of their soaked cocks sliding in and out of your holes fill the room, hardly drowned out by their bawdy grunts and groans and words of praise.
You hollow your cheeks and press your tongue flat to the underside of Aegon’s cock, allowing him to claim your mouth however he pleases, the added stimulation causing him to choke on a gasp. He trusts frantically into your mouth at this point, and you know he’s close already with how he throbs on your tongue.
Aemond forces his hips into yours with such determination, he is close to shoving you up against his brother with the force of his need, your arms almost buckling under the weight he puts onto you. You can tell he’s racing for completion, effectively pulling you with him in the process.
With the pace of his hips not faltering once, your peak washes over you in an ambush. The pleasure in your body gets intense enough for your legs and arms to tremble, his hand that rests at your neck trailing down to seize your hip to support you. Your walls clench around his cock tight enough for him to draw in a sharp breath, but the assault on your cunt doesn’t cease.
Yet he’s not the first man to surrender to the pleasure. Despite your struggles to please him accordingly, Aegon’s peak follows closely behind yours, ripped from him by the reckless pace his brother has set up.
“By the Sev–” he heaves, interrupted by a strained groan.
It might have been the tight embrace of your cunt around his cock, or the sight of you eagerly swallowing every drop of his brother’s seed, but not long after his throbbing cock spends itself deep inside of your quivering walls, causing you to roll your hips against his to prolong his peak.
His hands trail up and down your sides in pure bliss, and when it’s all over, he releases a sigh of relief, almost as if some sort of pressure has been taken off of his shoulders.
But you don’t get the chance to relinquish it for too long, both men pulling out of you at once. Aemond’s almost comforting grip on your body leaves far too quickly, prompting you to topple onto your side.
Your wide eyes flicker between them, and while Aegon is busy tucking himself back into his breeches, not caring about you and your overall presence, Aemond has a somewhat suspicious glint flickering in his eye.
Even if he’s aware of your antics, it’s now or never, for you certainly won’t be welcomed around him again after the brazen takeover – it was not what he requested after all.
Putting on a confident front, you roll onto your belly, propping yourself up on your forearms and dangling your feet in the air.
“Now, I believe you both owe me something,” you start, keeping your eyes locked on Aemond. He’s of more importance to you despite his brother being the king, solely based on the rumors you’ve heard. “A reward for my services, if you will.”
They exchange a glance and scoff, both of them clearly surprised by your audacity. “You will receive your coins on the morrow,” the elder states, shrugging his shoulders before turning towards the exit.
“‘Tis not coins I want,” you retort with a shake of your head.
Aemond’s still completely bare as he speaks, standing in the room with his newfound confidence. “And what exactly is it you desire, hm?” His tone is slightly derogatory, subtly remembering you of your place – making clear that you’re in no position to desire anything at all.
You know he’s not asking because he wants to fulfill your wish, but rather because he’s just curious to learn what else you could possibly want from them, and it seems to be the same for his older brother for he’s turned around to look at you again.
“What I desire is the chance to learn more about my heritage,” you reply, gaze scanning both men. “I have only just recently come to Westeros to learn more about the mighty House Targaryen, although my grandmother has told me several stories. But I want to hear it from those with first-hand experience, and I do not think there is someone better to help me with that than you.”
Aemond’s eye narrows in suspicion. “And who might your grandmother be exactly?”
“Princess Saera Targaryen.”
While Aegon releases a scoff of disbelief, Aemond’s eye widens in surprise. “The Saera who left Westeros and disgraced our family name?”
The weight of your grandmother’s reputation is heavy to bear, and you struggle to acknowledge this part of it. “Yes, I am her granddaughter. And I understand the disdain many might have for her, however, all I know is that she left Westeros and lived her life in Essos, never to return. I am merely curious about my family, and hoped that you, as the sons of the late King Viserys, would have the knowledge I seek.”
Aegon laughs out loudly, but this time you’re the one at the end of his humiliation and mockery. Averting your eyes to the ground, you press your lips into a thin line. There is unease in both their faces, and you figure that you probably won’t get the answers you desire from them anytime soon.
“I… well… it seems that you are not quite yet willing to share your knowledge,” you say, quieter, before rising from the settee. You walk towards the curtains, pushing them aside to make your exit, and continue without looking at them, hesitating to truly leave them. “Do not worry, I shall not trouble you any further. Perhaps I ought to seek answers in Dragonstone, then.”
The glance they exchange goes unnoticed by you, but soon enough you feel Aegon’s sturdy chest press against your back and his heavy breath fan over your bare, sweat-covered skin. “Ah, no need to rush off so quickly,” he says, planting a hand on your waist. “I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss us just yet. Maybe we’re just a bit hesitant to open up. Perhaps a little persuasion on your part might… convince us.”
You feign a sigh, pretending to be reluctant but secretly enjoying the attention. “I am all for persuasion, Your Grace,” you say, your voice sultry. “But I believe I should be rewarded first… at least a little. After all, my services have proven to be quite delightful, have they not? And I do not plan to persuade you for free.”
Spinning on your heels, there is little space between you and Aegon. But you don’t budge, not when you’ve your mind set on it.
“You are quite demanding, aren’t you, my dear?” Aegon asks, his voice deep. It’s clear he’s amused by your bluntness, judged by the smirk draped across his features, yet he’s also enticed by the prospect of sharing you with his brother for a second time. “But if that’s what it takes. What kind of reward do you desire, then?”
And so it happens that, after they have given you bits of information about House Targaryen that have not made it into the history books, you find yourself entangled in the sheets again, a mess of limbs and sweat and promises to give you answers to everything your heart desires.
Just Benji being such a sweet, soft sucker for his spouse.
Reader is fem but it’s used very loosely.
It hadn’t been long since you and Benjicot were wed and the butterflies within your stomach has yet to subside, but a small part of you had grown partial to the feeling, especially when that feeling was brought back tenfold as you looked over at Benjicot on the bed; only to see him staring at you adoringly.
‘What?’ You asked, feeling a little exposed beneath his gaze and giddy that you got to be the recipient of such a sweet, genuine gaze as his.
‘This isn’t a dream is it.’ Benji asked softly as he reached out to grab ahold of your hand, pulling you to stand in between his legs, ‘please tell me this isn’t a dream. I don’t think I can handle it if all of this is just something I shall eventually awaken from unfairly.’ He adds as you crane your head down to rest yours easily against his own.
‘This isn’t a dream husband of mine.’ You reassured him softly as you stroked your thumb across the back of his hand, watching fondly as Benji’s face visibly relaxed at the sound of your voice, a soft smile hatching across his lips that left your heart melting every time you were blessed with it’s appearance. ‘What makes you think that any of this could only be achieved through a dream?’ You asked, curious as to know how his mind went that that conclusion because to you everything leading up to now has felt all too real to be a dream, you felt too awake to believe that you were in some way in a deep sleep.
‘You.’ Benjicot replied. ‘You’ve always felt like a dream come true to me since the day we met, and in such a way that I could never describe accurately, at least until now that is.’
‘And that is?’
Benjicot got up from the bed and moved his hands to securely hold your face between his calloused palms as his eyes flickered across every aspect of your face, almost as though he were committing this very moment to his memory, like he was scared that he was bound to forget all about it sooner or later and he was desperate to remember how your face looked now; hopeful that it will force his mind to remember the best moments of his life all over again. ‘That you were always meant to be apart of my life. It is as if the old gods made you and I to one day be bound in a shared fate that concludes with us still being together when it all ends. You are the other half of me that I can’t live without.’ Benjicot says as he peppered soft kisses across your face, making you smile at him warmly and reaching your hands to rest atop of his own.
‘You’re too sweet to me my beloved.’ You murmured as Benji pressed a kiss to your lips. ‘You must’ve been a poet in a previous life.’ You added cheekily before squealing when Benjicot playfully bit your lip in retaliation.
‘I meant that in a good way!’ You cried, lightly snacking his bicep.
‘To you it does, but to me it sounded very much like a playful jab made at my expense.’ Benjicot said and moved his hands to your waist, where in which he gave a swift tug and you were brought tightly against his chest, but you weren’t in any position to complain as you quickly latched your arms to his waist and rested your head firmly in the crook of his neck, kissing on it a little as a content smile blossomed across your face while sinking into his warmth.
‘Agree to disagree.’ You said, voice muffled against your now husband as the lull of sleep began to weigh heavily on your eyelids. The excitement of the day had long since drained you and all you wanted to do was to sleep in the arms of your beautiful husband, you couldn’t help but feel giddy calling Benjicot your husband no matter if it was aloud or to yourself, it just felt right.
‘Agree to disagree my love.’ Benjicot echoed as he helped you to bed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, nose and lips before getting under the covers to join you as he held you protectively in his arms, just a pair of lovers spending their first of many nights cuddled up to each other as though fearful of being separated from one another.
Both having busy schedules and working in different cities, the reader and Ewan make an effort to keep contact with each other. Will Ewan ever make his feelings known? Will a possible scandal derail their budding romance?
A beautiful floral arrangement awaits you as you return to your hotel suite in LA.
Luxury red roses preserved in an elegant black velvet box, accompanied by a printed note on the side.
Congratulations on your new project, darling.
All my love, Ewan.
Your assistant had alluded to a special package having arrived just before you came in, and you're met with this.
It's the loveliest of gestures and you instantly wish to call Ewan to express your thanks. However the hour is late, the digital clock face reading 10 pm. You'd had a long day at work, having gone through the entirety of rehearsals once more. Filming will officially begin in September, and your focus is much needed as you step into a new role.
Noting the time difference - it would only be around 6 am in the UK - you decide to put off calling him for tomorrow.
It's only been a week since he first confessed that he misses you, and since then, he's had no trouble saying it each time you speak, almost as if the floodgates are opened and he's more confident in expressing himself with you.
I told you, Phia had simply said when you shared this with her.
The strong possibility of Ewan harbouring feelings for you has caused you to become distracted the past few days. If he does, why hasn't he asked you out yet? Granted, you'll be working long-distance for a while, but still.
You quickly wind down from a long day and soon find yourself comfortably huddled in blankets with your laptop propped open in front of you. Winding down, of course, includes some time scrolling on your phone or watching things without a care.
A new video catches your attention on Youtube's home page. One of the segments from Ewan's Vanity Fair feature.
Ewan Mitchell on his firsts and currents
You smile to yourself before you even realise it.
The video starts with Ewan introducing himself - "Hi, Vanity Fair. I'm Ewan Mitchell and I'm here to talk about my different firsts and currents." - He smirks at the camera. You smirk right back as if he can see you.
"So first ever role?" he says, directed by prompts behind the camera. "Technically, my first ever role was for a very small, short film called Stereotype ..." He laughs, remembering how young and inexperienced he was. "... and my current role - none other than the One-Eyed Prince. So far, my favourite as well I have to say."
He continues with his first and current favourite film, pets, song or type of music to get into character... and so on...
Then he gets asked about - his first ever and his current celebrity crush - "Uhhhmm," he looks to the side bashfully, clicking his tongue as he thinks of the simplest answer, "I don't think I had celebrity crushes growing up. It could have been some of the actors I admired, that inspired me... "
Such a classic Ewan answer, that one. You wonder how he would also dodge the question of his current celebrity crush.
"As for my current crush... well... it might be someone from the cast of House of the Dragon, actually." He smiles knowingly, as if he's aware that your stomach is in knots as you watch. Who will he say? Phia? Olivia?
"I really admire ... " He says your name, and your eyes widen like saucers. "She's an amazing actress - I think we can all agree - and a very dear person to me... "
Ewan, you sneaky charming bastard.
" ... so yeah," he shrugs, nonchalantly, but he surely knows he just sent you - and the entire fandom - into a tailspin. "I guess you could say she's my current celebrity crush."
Curious, you pick up your phone and get to scrolling. You've turned all your notifications off, not wanting to become occupied because of them during work.
Sure enough, it's an endless flurry of likes, comments, and messages.
In your most recent post, tons of people comment about Ewan's interview, trying to bring it to your attention.
hotdpolska29: girl, go watch Ewan's Vanity Fair video RIGHT. NOW.
melodygellerr: be honest, is this photo for Ewan???
peraltajake99: now she has to say that Ewan's her celebrity crush too !!!
cassiethemendler: forget Ewan... guys she's acc with jacob frickin elordi. Did yall not see the pictures
There's simply too many comments to go through. One statement and already everyone has formed their own opinion, their own conclusion about how things are in your personal life. It's one of the drawbacks of being in the public eye, and you still don't fully know how to handle it.
As part of PR for your new film, you and Jacob had been tapped to make appearances in public together, photographers hired to make it seem like the two of you are on a date.
The whole thing confused you. You're friends with Jacob, and naturally you hang out with him anyway. All this celebrity subterfuge seems unnecessary. But he was kind enough to guide you through it. "It's just part of the job," Jacob assured. "This whole Hollywood thing is silly, isn't it?"
Since you're both single actors, it wouldn't hurt for people to believe you might be dating. It attracts attention and any publicity is good as they say.
As long as you know what's true, then the public can believe whatever they want.
You end up liking and responding to some comments, and ignoring most of the other ones that pry too much into your private life. Never mind the haters, who also give their own two cents about your alleged involvements with Ewan or Jacob.
Suddenly, the screen is brightened from an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye . You are still pleased with yourself about the name. Your excitement is spiked as you press answer. Having a crush never gets old.
"Mornin', you," you greet him. 11 pm for you in LA, 7 am for him in England.
"Evening, darling," he says with a smile. He's still in bed, with one hand behind his head while the other has his phone pressed to his ear. First thing in the morning, and he feels compelled to call you. If that's any indication, the boy doesn't lie when he says he misses you every day. "You about to go to bed?" he queries.
"Mhmm," you hum, lying down and mirroring his position. "By the way, I think I've got a secret admirer or something."
"What? Who?"
Struggling to hold back a laugh, you continue, "I think you're missing the point of a secret admirer."
"Yeah, yeah," he sighs. "Anyway, what's going on? Are they bothering you?" He sounds worried already, but a bit more should be fun.
"No, but I found a box from them in my room."
"Did they break in?" He sits half-upright, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Are you okay?"
"I'm okay," you breathe out a tired laugh. "Ewan, I'm - " ... kidding, you want to confess, but he rambles on.
"If you need me, I can take the next flight out."
"Ewan - honey - I am messing with you. I do appreciate the floral arrangment box, by the way, thank you."
A beat of silence. He slumps back down on his pillows. A smile creeps up unrestrained on his lips. He fondly thinks that his girl almost gave him a heart attack at 7 am.
And he loves it.
"You're welcome," he replies. "And if I wasn't fully wake before, then I am now. Good work, darling."
You're pleased - he didn't deny the admirer bit of it all.
"Seriously now, thank you. They're the best surprise after a long work day."
"I'm glad you like them," he says sincerely. "Rehearsals still going on?"
"Yup, two more weeks of this, then a month-long break, and finally filming in Atlanta."
"Hmm," he says, then pauses, framing his next question as best he can. "Are you... do they... that PR relationship business, is that - "
You help him to it. "Well, technically, yeah," you respond. "But they're not laying it on thick with Jacob and I. Everything is alleged by the media and no one will make any sure statements."
When you shared the truth of the pap walk, he had a bunch of questions about it. He had sounded detached and cold at the beginning of that call. Then you complained about relationships for publicity, and he quickly got the gist. You'd think his mood took a complete 360 then.
From sounding completely disinterested with Jacob, Ewan then took to reassuring you that he's a good guy who would respect your boundaries. He's still not a fan of the whole thing, but it's your job.
And... well... it's not like he's your boyfriend or anything. What claim could he have over you?
"And something you said has the public divided," you add.
"What did I say?" he smirks, playing it coy.
"Ewan."
"You're going to have to elaborate, darling."
An idea pops up in your mind. Two can play at this game, Mitchell. "Listen, I'm flattered that I'm apparently your celebrity crush, but you can't say shit like that! I don't think my boyfriend Jacob would appreciate it. He's very protective, you know."
A full minute passes, you hear his heavy breathing on the other line. He wants to curse out at the picture you presented but holds back for you.
Then, "You're so funny, darling."
You laugh genuinely, and all his worries dissipate. "I know."
"A downright comedian."
"Thank you."
"I can't believe you're my celebrity crush," he sighs dramatically.
"You put that on to yourself, mate."
"Hmm." He sure did. He wasn't lying in that interview - you are his celebrity crush, but that seems reductive. He likes you, he misses you, he loves being around you. "The only right answer would have been you. You're the one I think about all the time."
He says things like this, so sweetly, and it's everything. It drives you off kilter that you get tongue-tied at work when you think about it.
But he hasn't said or done anything more. The flowers were a nice touch, sure. Maybe he's gearing up to it? Does he have something up his sleeve?
In the moment, it appears not. He's flirty, as he always is, but you've had a damn long day and the butterflies in your stomach are exhausted too.
"Ewan, I'm gonna go to bed."
"Oh. Right."
"Long day tomorrow. You know how it is."
"Of course. I... I miss you, darling. Sleep well."
"Mhmm," you find yourself responding, not mirroring his statement. "Bye, have a good day."
You end the call, wondering if he caught on at the end. Perhaps you sounded a bit too dismissive, but a voice in your head says, hey - if he wants you, he gonna have to show you. It'll take a lot more than flattery and banter to win your heart completely.
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That night in London, Ewan sits in a corner booth of a pub with Tom, Luke and Elliott and it's relatively causal, with the boys just catching up over a few pints.
Until Luke mentions you and Jacob, questioning whether that whole story was real or not.
"Absolutely not," Ewan says immediately, shifting in his Adidas tracksuit as if to take up more space so the boys will pay attention. "I talked to her about it and it's all just PR nonsense, trust me."
"Look at this one gettin' all defensive." Tom claps Ewan on the back in jest.
"Well it's true," Ewan just shrugs. "They're not together."
Elliott jumps in, eager to rile Ewan up even more. "For now at least. I've heard that these PR couple things eventually get a little too real, if you know what I mean. The lines tend to get blurred."
Ewan slings his pint back, before engaging. "What do you mean?"
"Well, look at it this way," Elliott explains. "She hangs out with the guy a lot. They laugh, dine and work together. Maybe they even have to make out several times for the film. It's easy for feelings to spring up from all that business."
"Life imitates art, innit?" Luke offers.
"Yeah, maybe soon it won't just be PR. I've heard of some celebrity couples who did that," Elliott says.
Luke adds, "Wasn't there that one PR couple that got married and all? Who was it - I can't remember now - "
Tom intervenes, wary of the way with which Ewan grips his pint glass. "That's all nonsense, come on. Surely that's not a common occurence. I worked with all you guys, and I can't stand any of ya. If anything, she'll be so sick of Jacob after they work together." That earns him a laugh from the twins, who then assign him to get the next round as payment for that jibe.
Ewan stays silent, his mind whirring. Usually, the boys wouldn't mind. They know it's just his way, being a focused and observant lad on and off set. But they sense something else underneath.
The twins share a look, a bit guilty due to Ewan's expression.
Ewan looks up and reassures the table, "Hey, it's alright. Whatever she chooses to do, I get it."
"But come on, mate," Tom says. "Everyone knows you like her. Literally everyone. Even she knows it, I bet. Why don't you just make the bloody move already?"
"I dunno," Ewan starts, not sure of the answer himself, "it just didn't seem like the right time, with her being off across the pond for the rest of the year."
"So what, you're just going to let it slide? Do you want her or not?"
"Mmm, I do." Ewan keeps to himself most of the time. But Tom's got a way to loosen his taut edges.
"Well, as promised, I'm gonna get us all another round," Tom declares, earning cheers from the twins.
Two pints turned into three, then six, seven and so on. Pretty soon, the lads get properly and well smashed. Ewan's never been the biggest drinker, but when the social situation calls for it, he can put them back just as well as the next guy from the Midlands.
"So come clean, mate," Tom drawls, his arm slung around Ewan's shoulders. "Are you in love with her already or what?"
Ewan laughs, rubbing a hand over his face to wake up a little. It doesn't work - the glare of the warm overhead lights is strong and make him feel woozy.
"Could be," he says. "But that's none of your business." Smirking, he points at Luke, "Or yours," then at Elliott, "or yours."
"Hey! C'mon," Tom protests, feigning hurt. "Am I not going to be the best man at the wedding?"
"No way, Aegon the Magnanimous," Ewan shakes his head. "My brother'll be the best man."
"So there will be a wedding," Luke says. "Does the bride know about it?"
"He hasn't even asked her out yet," Elliott teases. "I triple dare you to ask her out right now. Right fuckin' now, Ewan."
"No," Ewan says, but in his sloshed out state, he secretly considers just doing it. "I gotta go for a smoke, lads. Tom was right, I can't stand you anymore."
"Oh, boo!" Tom shoves him out of the booth. "Hurry back, lover boy."
Ewan makes his way to the alley behind the pub. He's thankful that a pub at midnight offers the perfect setting to disappear into anonymity. Everyone's just as drunk or they simply don't care about celebrity culture.
He takes a few puffs of his cigarette, the nicotine quickly reawakening his nerves. Thinking back to the twin's suggestion, he thinks, why the hell not? Why shouldn't he ask you out already? Who cares about the PR shite? If word gets around that you're his, the facade about you and Jacob will get shelved.
With his cig lodged between his teeth, he has to take extra care to call you, the glare of the screen not doing wonders for his inebriation.
The lines beeps, and he's met with your voicemail. You must still be at work or just getting off it.
Still with Jacob. Something in him stirs, and it's not just the bloody alcohol.
He clears his throat, prompted by the notification to leave a message - "Hey, darling. Hey... beautiful... I guess I'm missing you and I... I miss you, isn't that funny?" he starts, proud of himself for making the joke. "I'm out with the lads right now... had a couple of pints. Maybe one too many? I don't know. And... uhhh - "
He stomps his smoke under his shoe, nervous ticks getting the best of him. Here he goes, make it or break it. "I was thinking about you. As I always do. Because I've never felt like this about anyone before. Ever. And I'm sorry it took me this long to ask, but I want to be with you. No - that's not right, it's too quick... I mean, yes, I want to be with you, but I gotta do this right. I want to take you out, properly, on a date. Will you... will you please? I've got some business stateside and I could have that scheduled sooner, and I could come see you. And we could... I just want to see you. So fucking badly, baby. I - I - okay then, I suppose that's all. Good... good morning? No - evening. You're beautiful and I just..." he sighs deeply, because words will never do you justice. "... goodbye."
The line cuts off and he tucks his phone away. Smiling to himself, he feels euphoric from getting that off his chest. The message was coherent enough, he thinks proudly, and it couldn't have sounded better all things considering.
If he could pat himself on the back, he most definitely would. He can already see it, the perfect first date with you.
The lads are going to go nuts over this, he knows for certain. He makes his way back inside the pub, a boy renewed.
A lover boy, as Tom and Phia call him.
No truer words have been spoken.
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It's 10 pm yet again when you make it back to your suite. Having notifications on your phone turned off while you're at work, you're met with a barage of messages and the usual social media frenzy.
But only one thing stands out - a voice message from Ewan One-Eye, sent just around 4 hours ago.
You settle in for the night, making sure you're all prepped to go to bed before playing it, thinking you can maybe call him afterward.
You hear the beep, and the message starts - "Hey, darling... uhhhh so hey, I - uh fuck I'm missing you right now, must be at work eh? And I miss you - " You note how he sounds drowsy but his words are punctuated. Like he's making an actual effort to simply speak. You realise he must be drunk. What's a drunk Ewan doing calling you? " - that's so funny, innit? Which suits cause I'm just a bloody joke cause I took too long... to tell you... that I... I think about you all the time, I'mcrazyboutyou y'know... I wanna be with you... withyou - " He's drunk, you keep reminding yourself that he's drunk. But the effect of his words aren't diminished. He's got you hooked. " - I got work out there too... so I'll - uhhh - see you then and... take you out then and - fuck - kiss ya... I want to kiss you so fucking badly, baby. You're perfect for me, and so beautiful, and I wish Aemond would wed your character cause - as th'twins said - life imitates art!" He snickers at his own remark, and it's the most endearing thing ever. "So... yeah, good, darling. Goodb - " and the line cuts off.
"What the fuck," is all you can speak out into the quiet room. Lying back on your pillows, you actually laugh out loud and kick your feet like a puppy-love drunk highschooler.
The sun is rising across the pond and Ewan has probably just made it back home, immediately collapsing in his bed all wasted.
But he's getting a call tomorrow - and you pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that his intentions are clear, drunk or otherwise.
Kismet is a funny thing. Once a fan of the show, you're now an actress on it, about to date the Aemond Targaryen.
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Ewan's eyes flutter open. The sunlight is weakly coming in from the window shutters in his room. Confused, he glances at the digital clock face and it reads 6:18 PM.
So he slept through the whole day. Brilliant.
It's unlike him to mind his phone first thing after waking up, so he trudges to his bathroom to douse his face with cold water and brush his teeth for a good long while, trying to recall the events of the previous night.
It had the usual workings of a proper pub night with his lads, and he barely remembers the last night he got that sloshed. But anyway, all in good fun, and he genuinely enjoys their company so it must be worth the pounding headache he feels right now.
The lads... an unknown and possibly excessive number of pints... Oasis playing on the speakers... Tom generously buying a round of drinks for everyone in the pub... and of course, you.
The memory has his attention, and he thumbs through his phone as he makes his way to his kitchen to prep his staple black coffee with seven sugars.
He remembers it - kind of - leaving a voicemail, and he's pleased that he finally, finally asked you out. Never mind that it took him getting drunk off his noggin to do it.
But there's nothing from you. Not a message, nor a missed call, nor a voice note.
He tries not to let it worry him right away, but it does. Maybe you didn't hear it yet. Maybe you were too tired from work and weren't checking your voicemails.
Maybe... maybe...
His phone suddenly buzzes in his palm and he mumbles, fuck's sake, out of surprise. But it's not you calling. It's his publicist.
"Hello, good evening. How are you doing?" he greets cordially.
"Ewan!" she exclaims. "Finally! I've been trying to get a hold of you all day."
"Oh, right," he says guiltily, "I'm so sorry, I just had a long night and - "
"I know, Ewan, I know. The whole country - no - the whole world knows by now. Bloody hell, it's always The Sun, isn't it? Those idiots, I swear."
He straightens at that. If a tabloid is involved, it can't be good news. "What's happened?"
His publicist sighs, ready to relay the news, "The Sun did a story on you and the other cast members. About having a wild night out in the pub. It's useless fodder, really, nothing wrong with having a night out."
"Right, right... but - " Ewan says, sensing there's something more. Something worse.
"There's a picture of you with a girl - "
"What?"
"I think I've seen her before. She must be a cousin of the Tittensors? You know her, of course."
"I... I don't - "
"Anyway, according to the paper, you and her were flirting it up a storm at the pub. She had her arm around you and everything. Do you want to look it up now? I can give you a moment. I'll stay on the line."
"Fuck," Ewan mutters to himself as he does a quick search of his name. The headlines make him wish he never did so.
House of the Dragon Stars On A Wild Night Out: INSIDE SCOOP!
EWAN MITCHELL SPOTTED WITH MYSTERY LADY
Aemond Targaryen IN LOVE? See PICTURES Inside!
"I don't think I remember her," he swears to his publicist, "I was just drinking with the lads and there might have been others that joined us but I - what the fuck - I don't - "
"It's okay, Ewan," she reassures him. "We can deal with this. This bullshit just comes with the job, as you should know. It'll be fine."
No, it's not fine.
Because it dawns on him why he hasn't heard back from you.
request: Aemond x ( Rhaenyra x Criston daughter ) niece were married and having a son. instead kill aegon son b&c kill Aemond son. How Rhaenyra daughter try to save her son from b&c and what people react after find out about Aemond son being kill. I need this fic so bad…
summary | Daemon took Rhaenyra's words literally. "A son for a son" he said. Who knew that it would be your son?
pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader
tags | mentions of BLOOD, extreme grief, talk of child murdering, knifes, MORE BLOOD, infanticide, DEATH, extreme grief. mentions of murder
w.c | 3.8k
TW!!!!!!!!! | I personally have a very gruesome writing style when it comes to things like this, so if anything relating to infanticide or violence will trigger or bother you please don't read!!
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You loved your son. You named your son Baelon, after your mothers lost brother. Aemond knew how much you love Baelon, and he would be a fool if he said he did not love his son as well.
Aemond tried to pride himself with being stoic and emotionally unavailable. But the minute they put his squirming son's body in his arms he felt his whole world resolve. The boy was the most beautiful thing to him, and he couldn’t believe that half of this being came from him.
Ever since that night, Aemond became softer. When you weren’t breastfeeding, or when you got tired from taking care of the crying infant, Aemond would immediately offer to take the boy. When Bealon would cry in the middle of the night, Aemond would be up almost immediately, rushing to be at the babe's side. It took you almost forty minutes to convince him that it would be better if he slept with you and not in the nursery.
And everything was fine until the night he killed Luke.
Aemond would come back to the Keep late at night, still shaken from what he had involuntarily done. When he got back to his chambers, he saw his wife, his sweet, innocent wife holding his son.
You had a smile on your face, Baelon coo’ing in your arms as he giggled and reached up to play with your braided, black hair. When you looked up, and noticed Aemond, your smile faltered.
Aemond stared at you, and for a second his face was his normal and stoic, but the minute his son, his little Baelon, reached for him with a smile he broke down.
That night he told you everything; He apologized profusely, and for the first time in all of Baelon’s four months of living, he refused to hold him.
“I’ll only hurt him.” Is what Aemond told you. Your heart broke a little when you heard this, and you tried to reassure him but he wouldn’t have any of it.
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“Aemond?” Aemond stopped, looking at you with a soft sigh.
“Darling, what have I told you about sleeping on the couch?” His voice was tired, full of weariness from having to deal with Aegon’s antics. You smiled softly as you sat up, holding out your hands out for him. He sighed as he sat down with you. He immediately cuddled against you, letting out a long, heavy breath as his head come into contact with your chest.
This was how you two spent most of your time now. At night, Aemond would come to you and he would cuddle against you, yearning for that love and affection only you could seemingly give him. You two sat like this for a while, you stroking his head, and him stroking your stomach.
“...I do regret that business with Luke, you know.”
“I know.”
There was more silence. It seemed that between you and Baelon, the only time Aemond’s mind was quiet now was when he was with you, in your embrace, being held by you. Not being treated as a monster, or a ruthless warrior, but rather just a man. Just your husband.
In the distance, you heard the sound of your son’s wails. You sighed heavily, and you looked down at Aemond.
“Perhaps he wishes for his father’s arms.” You spoke softly, watching as Aemond slowly sat up.
“He does not.” He shook his head, leaning against the back of the couch. He avoided your gaze, knowing the somber look you were giving him.
“Are you sure you do not wish to join me?” Aemond sat still, a look on his face that held some sort of thought before he shook his head softly.
“I’ll see him first thing in the morning, my love.” You smiled at the thought, and you held his hand as you walked away. He watched you leave, a sad smile on his face. The wails from Baelon stopped moments later, and Aemond sighed heavily.
Tomorrow, he thought, i’ll see him tomorrow.
The worst part about this sentiment is that Aemond would see his son tomorrow. However, Baelon would be on a pyre.
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The night started off peaceful. You sat in your rocking chair, rocking back and forth with Baelon in your arms. You smiled to yourself, holding the-now-sleeping babe in your arms. You hadn’t even registered the two men behind you.
When one of them accidently knocked something over, you immediately jumped.
“Aemond?” You whispered, quickly turning around. However, you were met with the face of two, unruly men you didn’t recognize. You saw the bag they held, along with the rat traps. “Who-Who are you?” You tried to stay strong, but you knew your voice gave away your fear.
One of the men, the taller, bigger one looked you up and down. He turned to the other man and spoke softly. “Who is she?”
“This…Is the one eyed prince’s wife.” Your breath hitched as the shorter man spoke. They both looked reasonably dirty, like rat catchers, but you knew something was wrong.
“There are no rats in here.” The two men started to walk towards you, murmuring something about your husband underneath their breath. You had half a mind to turn and run, but they seemed to have the same idea.
The shorter man came to you, and put a knife to your throat. You gasped, and clutched Baelon closer to you. The boy whined softly at the pressure.
“Give us the boy, and we won’t hurt you.” The taller man spoke. You looked at him and held Baelon tighter.
“You have no business with my son-”
“Give us the boy!” The taller men yelled. You flinched, and at the sudden noise, Baelon started to cry. You looked between the men, and you felt tears in your eyes as the anxiety started to build up in your chest.
“I-I have uhm..I have many valuable items. I have gold! I have lots of gold that I have no need for-”
The taller man kicked the edge of Baelon’s crib and you held back a scream. The taller men started to speak to the shorter man, but the words they spoke didn’t process fully in your brain. All you saw was an open door.
“AEM-” You started to scream your husband's name, but the man with the knife to your throat pushed the knife further and grabbed your hair roughly. You cried, and Baelon wailed in your arms. The taller man put his hand on Baelon’s head and tried to pry him from you grip.
“NO!” You cried out, trying to pull him back, but it didn’t work. With a quick snap your boy was pried from you. The shorter man threw you back, causing you to hit your head against the chair you were previously rocking in.
Your head was fuzzy, and all you heard was the wails of your son, painful wails that slowly died down. When you sat up, you saw the men putting the tiny head of your son in a bag. Your whole world stopped, and just as the men escaped down the hall, you screamed.
Your chest ached, and your throat burned. You stare down at the body, slowly crawling to it as you shake your head and mutter small, inconsistent prayers to yourself. You reached out a hand, placing it on the body’s belly, rubbing it softly as if that would relieve some of the pain that was given to your innocent baby boy.
You choked on your own tears, wishing for nothing more than your own death in that moment. Screams erupted from your throat; Horrid, painful screams followed by sobs. This pain, this all consuming immeasurable pain you wished on no one. The feeling of your own blood on your hands as you stared at the decapitated body was sickening, but you couldn’t look away.
How could something so small hold so much blood? You thought to yourself, watching as the blood spilled from the clumsy cut.
Alicent was the first to arrive, followed by Aemond soon after. Alicent stared at the scene in front of her, and while she resented you (seeing you as a constant reminder of Rhaenyra’s blatant lie to her), the pain she felt for you was disgusting. She backed out of the room slowly and placed a hand on her stomach to ground herself.
Aemond couldn’t step into the room. He just stared down at you, his son's body. The thought that this headless, infants body was his own son’s, his baby boy’s-
He couldn’t move. The pain for him was nothing short of paralyzing. But what broke him the most was you.
You sobbed, violently sobbed as you placed your hands in your son's blood and tried to pull it back. As if that would fix everything. Aemond felt nauseous, seeing you so desperately cling to the idea that you could fix this. Once the realization started to settle that this was not helping, your body seemed to shut down. You laid down, holding your hands on your son's body as you sobbed.
No words were exchanged, not knowing what to say. Aemond leaned against the door frame, mind numb as he slowly slid down the frame. He stared at nothing, his mind replaying all the times he held the boy, watched him smile.
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Aemond stood next to you the following day, watching as your baby boy's body was burned on a pillar. He was numb, his face pale and full of so much grief that it sobered anyone up.
You were a mess. Tears and incoherent sobs escaped your throat, and you clung to Aemond. Aemond stayed still, gently holding you as if any small movement would cause the last shred of resolve to leave your body.
As the fire burned, you buried your face into Aemond’s chest, refusing to watch. Aemond let you, holding your head softly.
But Aemond stared. He watched as the wrapped body was consumed by the flames. He forced himself to watch as the flames consumed his son, his own retribution for not being there, for not helping you, for not holding his son one last time.
As he watched the ashes of the pyre falter, Aemond made a promise to himself.
He would kill Daemon Targaryen with his own hands.
Aegon has been in love with reader for years but she got betrothed to Aemond. She finds Aegon drunk at her door and she takes him in. He tells her he loves her and make smut happen please
I've been on a roll with these request this week! Only three days until the start of Season 2 *screaming*
Question: Should I add Cregan Stark to my character list? If yes, please send requests for him <3
Warnings: 18+, smut, drunk!Aegon, unprotected p + v, cheating (on Aemond)
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
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When the news dropped, Aegon was devastated. He had always known his feelings for you ran deep, but hearing that you were to be betrothed to his own brother made him regret not asking for your hand sooner. The thought of losing you to Aemond gnawed at his heart.
In a fit of fury, Aegon stormed into Aemond's chambers, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘’You knew of my feelings for her, how can you do this to me?’’ he spat, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation.
Aemond looked up from his book, his expression calm and composed. ‘’Father wanted to unite our families. I’m only doing my duty,’’ he replied, his tone measured and devoid of emotion.
Aegon’s frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist on the table, making the goblets and plates clatter. ‘’Fuck duty!’’ he shouted. His voice broke as he continued, ‘’I just…I just want her.’’
Aemond sighed, placing his book aside. ‘’I was asked to marry her, not you. You already have the throne.’’
The throne was given to him because he was the first son. Aegon never asked for it, never cared for ruling or showed interest in politics. He would rather spend his life with you and Sunfyre than sit on the Iron Throne.
‘’I would exchange my birthright for her in a heartbeat,’’ he confessed, his voice unwavering.
Later at dinner, Aegon didn’t come down to eat. He couldn't beat the idea of seeing you sitting beside Aemond during a meal. So, he stayed in his chamber, drowning himself with wine. His goblet wasn’t even empty that he would fill it up again.
He drank until the sun went down and his pitcher was almost empty, and fell asleep on his couch with his goblet in hand. It wasn’t surprising considering how much he had drunk.
When Aegon woke a few hours later, the castle was sleeping under the cover of darkness. He stood and found himself stumbling through the corridors. His feet carried him to your door in the guest wing, having been many many times. You always took the same chamber when you visited King’s Landing. Aegon raised his fist to knock, but before he could, the door creaked open.
You expected to find a servant with your tea, but instead found your uncle Aegon. A frown of surprise and concern creased between your eyebrows. ‘’Aegon? What are you doing here?’’
He swayed slightly, leaning heavily against the doorframe with his undershirt untucked from his breeches. His eyes were red, his expression a mixture of anger and sorrow. ‘’You can’t marry him. Please, don’t marry him,’’ he mumbled, his words slurred from the wine.
You should have walked him back to his chamber or alert the Queen of her son’s state, but instead you stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.
Aegon stumbled through the doorway, and you came to his side, helping him sit onto the bed bench. He leaned forwards as you let go of him, resting his forearms on his thighs and his spinning head in his hands.
You watched him with a heavy heart, guilt knotting your stomach. ‘’I’m sorry for the betrothal. I wanted to tell you myself, but our parents sent the ravens before I could.’’
‘’Don’t marry Aemond.’’ Aegon grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him. ‘’Don’t do this to me.’’ He looked up at you, his eyes pleading.
You stayed silent, looking down at him. There were a hundred reasons you should put a stop to this right now. Aegon was drunk. He wasn’t in his right mind. And yet, seeing him like this, vulnerability written all over him, made your heart ache for him.
‘’You’re drunk. This wasn’t a good idea. Let’s get you back to your chamber.’’ You reached for his arm to help him up, but grabbed your wrist. ‘’Aegon…’’ you sighed.
He pulled you closer to him, but you remained standing. Aegon’s voice was barely a whisper, his words more a plea than a demand. ‘’It’s me you should marry, not my brother.’’
You pulled on your wrist, but his grip only tightened. ‘’Aegon, let go. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.’’
He shook his head, his eyes fixated on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. ‘’I know exactly what I’m saying. I…I love you. I always have. And I can’t bear the thought of you marrying him.’’
Your heart was racing in your chest.
Despite the feud between your mothers, you and Aegon had always been close. He was there when you claimed your dragon, took the blame when you got caught stealing lemon cakes in the kitchen, and always invited you to dance at gatherings, even though he hated dancing. He even exchanged letters with you when you moved to Dragonstone, secretly writing back despite his terrible handwriting and his mother's interdiction. You were his favorite person, the only one he felt truly cared for him.
And now, he was sitting in your chamber, confessing his feelings to you out of pain and desperation.
You wanted to scream.
At yourself for not recognizing his underlying feelings. At him for not saying those words sooner. At your mother and grandsire for arranging a betrothal with Aemond. He was closer to you in age, mayhaps it was the reason for their decision? And most of all, at the cruel twist of fate that had kept you blind to what was right in front of you.
You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Thoughts swirled chaotically in your mind, overwhelming you. You needed time to think, time to process everything.
But time wasn’t in your hands, it was ticking and passing fast, so you crashed your lips on Aegon’s. He brought you down to his lap, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed across your hips and thighs and everything he could get his hands on in a desperate attempt to bring you closer. You could taste the wine on his lips, the bitter alcohol still lingering in his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair as a moan left his throat, igniting the fire between two dragons.
Impatient, Aegon pulled at the laces of your nightgown while you discarded him of his undershirt and threw it on the floor. Your nightgown found the same fate, goosebumps rising across your skin from the cool air or the room.
His hands skimmed along your sides, coming to rest on your hips as he rocked against you, his body betraying his need. The rough fabric of his breeches brushed against your bare cunt, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine.
Your lips moved from his lips to his jaw, trailing a path of kisses along his jawline and down to his neck. His breath caught in his throat as your lips and teeth found the sensitive spot between his collarbone and throat. Aegon let out a soft moan, his hands gripping your thighs tighter. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving small imprints that would surely turn into bruises come morning.
His hands continued to roam, exploring every inch of your body that he could reach. He moved his lips down to your chest, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your breasts. You arched your back in response, the feeling of his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched.
What you were doing was wrong and breaking many rules, but you couldn’t stop. It felt too good.
Aegon pushed you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours as he found your lips again. His hands fumbled with the ties of his breeches, desperately trying to undo them while keeping the kiss going. A soft groan escaped him as he managed to push them down, freeing himself from the constricting material.
The feeling of his bare skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His body was hot and demanding as he pressed himself closer to you. A gasp left your lips when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, surprised by how warm it felt.
You gripped his shoulder as Aegon pushed himself inside, your walls closing around him in a snug grip. Aegon’s breath hitched from how tight you felt, his eyes closing briefly as he sank deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain as your body adjusted to him.
When he started to move, you felt like he was splitting you in half…but in a good way. You clawed at his back, soft little sighs spilling from your lips as Aegon thrusted into you.
Unfortunately, the pleasure didn’t last long. You were so wet and squeezing him too good that after only a few thrusts, Aegon spilled inside you.
In his defense, he was drunk and not entirely in control of his cock.
The sunlight coming through the large window woke you up. You turned away from the window and buried your face into your pillow, trying to fall back asleep, but your arm came into contact with something — someone.
You opened your eyes, the late events of the night surfacing, and saw Aegon lying beside you. He was still fast asleep, his white hair tousled and messy. His face was relaxed, a stark contrast from his drunkenness. For a moment, you just watched him. He looked so peaceful and calm when he slept.
The light streamed over his face, illuminating the sharp planes and angles of his features. You reached out, gently brushing away a strand of hair from his forehead.
He stirred at your touch, but didn’t open his eyes. ‘’What is it, Mother?’’
You chuckled softly, watching as Aegon stirred in his sleep.
He mumbled again, shifting under the covers. His eyes still closed, he reached out blindly and brushed his fingers against your waist. The contact startled him, not expecting to find another body in his bed, and he opened his eyes.
A mixture of embarrassment and confusion flickered across his face, remembering his drunk stumble into your chamber.
‘’I’m sorry for last night,’’ Aegon apologized, his voice strained and hoarse because of how dry his mouth felt. ‘’I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?’’
You decided against mentioning his short sexual performance. ‘’More than usual? No.’’
He laughed, then groaned as his head pounded.
‘’Aegon?’’ you said quietly. He hummed. ‘’Why didn’t you say you have feelings for me?’’
‘’Because I enjoy self-sabotaging my life.’’
You swatted his arm.
‘’I need to speak to my mother,’’ you declared after a moment of silence.
The hour was early, but she should be awake.
You climbed out of bed, your naked body exposed in the bright light of day as you moved around your chamber. There was an ache between your legs, reminiscent of Aegon’s passage inside your intimate part.
‘’I do not wish to go through the same suffering she endured in her first marriage.’’ You grabbed a dress from the wardrobe and dressed yourself. It was more difficult without the help of a handmaid. ‘’And I know exactly how to convince her to call off the betrothal. I broke my vows to Aemond, I let you take my maidenhood. They will have no choice but to let us wed.’’
A/N: Happy Close To You release day! I’ve waited for this song since 2018 LMAO. Usually, I don’t write about real-life people, but I really can’t help it since this song is SO Pedro Pascal-coded. Just know that this is fictional and if this isn’t for you, you don’t have to read it! Keep scrolling :> And for those who stay to read this delusion of a fic, hey girlieeee I see you <3
P.S. I’ll be doing a bunch of fics related to Gracie’s new album that comes out next week!
Song: Close To You by Gracie Abrams
| Main Masterlist |
It all began as a harmless crush on your morning commute. The New York subway was your daily stage, a bustling backdrop as you headed to meet a client. As a social media coordinator, your days revolved around managing high-profile partnerships, coordinating with celebrities and Instagram influencers to craft campaigns that seamlessly blended their brands with consumer appeal.
But today was different. And of course, you recognized him.
You noticed him immediately – Pedro Pascal, seated right in front of you. Lost in his book, with a iced quad espresso in a venti cup with extra ice and six shots cradled in his hand, he exuded an effortless charm. His dark, curly hair framed those whisky eyes that glanced up and met yours. Just for a second, you were frozen in time, captivated by his gaze. You quickly looked away, not wanting to seem rude, yet feeling the familiar flutter of a crush brewing.
Did he smile? You swore he did, and your heart skipped a beat. The train doors opened, announcing your stop. Reluctantly, you stepped off, joining the throng of commuters spilling onto the platform. As you ascended the steps, the city's vibrant energy washed over you, but your mind was elsewhere.
Walking towards the restaurant for your client meeting, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. The way his presence ignited a spark within you, a longing that seemed almost irrational. Here you were, burning for a man who didn't even know your name. And yet, in the anonymity of the subway, a fleeting connection had stirred something deep inside you.
It had been a few weeks since that subway encounter, the memory of Pedro Pascal’s whisky eyes lingering in your mind. In the meantime, you had started managing social media for Sarah Paulson, whose busy schedule had her juggling multiple projects and interviews.
Sarah's latest project, a Broadway play titled Appropriate, was garnering critical acclaim and several award nominations. Your job was to promote her involvement, ensuring every post captured the essence of her talent and the play’s success. Though you hadn't been working with her long, you were pleasantly surprised when she invited you to watch one of her performances.
That night, you arrived early at the Belasco Theatre, adorned in your favorite long dress and practical flats, mindful of the commute back to your apartment. Ushered to a seat close to the front, you settled into the plush red velvet, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. As the audience trickled in, you busied yourself with casual texts to friends before putting your phone away, taking in the theatre's intricate architecture and the stage's grandeur.
Moments later, an usher guided someone to the seat next to you. Curiosity made you glance to your right, and there he was—Pedro Pascal, settling in beside you. Your eyes widened in recognition before you quickly looked away, a quiet panic bubbling in your stomach and tightening your chest. You fidgeted with your fingers, a nervous habit, trying to quell the flurry of emotions and resist the urge to stare.
As the house lights dimmed and the show began, you couldn’t help but steal occasional glances at him. The man who had unknowingly captured your heart was now mere inches away. The performance on stage was captivating, but you found yourself equally entranced by the man sitting next to you. In the soft glow of the theatre lights, you wondered if he remembered that brief moment on the subway, and if fate had just given you a second chance to connect.
When the show ended and the cast took their bows, the theatre erupted in applause. Pedro, sitting right next to you, cheered loudly when Sarah stood with the rest of the cast on stage. His genuine enthusiasm for his friend made you smile, and as you glanced at him, he looked down at you with a radiant grin.
Your heart raced, and for a moment, you felt a concrete connection that was almost tangible. Both of you opened your mouths to speak, but just then, an usher cleared their throat, drawing your attention.
“Mr. Pascal, Sarah Paulson is asking for you backstage… if you would follow me, please,” the usher said, causing Pedro to hesitate, torn between staying with you and fulfilling his friend's request.
“Uh,” Pedro began, glancing between you and the usher. Seeing his dilemma, you made the decision for him. Gathering your things, you offered a polite smile to both Pedro and the starstruck usher.
As Pedro glanced back at the usher, you seized the moment to make your getaway. You might have heard him call out, "Wait!" but you didn't stop. Stepping out onto the bustling street, the city lights of Broadway twinkled around you, a stark contrast to the growing ache in your heart.
The possibility of what might have been gnawed at you, the fleeting connection slipping through your fingers. A voice in the back of your mind echoed doubts, whispering that you didn't quite belong in this world of beautiful, glamorous people. You tried to shake off the feeling, but the bittersweet sting lingered.
You begin to walk away from the theatre, weaving through the crowd lined up for autographs by the backstage door. Just as you're about to cross the street to catch your subway, your phone vibrates in your clutch. Stepping aside, you see Sarah Paulson’s name flashing on the screen.
Shit.
You quickly answer, praying your voice doesn't betray your nerves. "Hello?"
"Hey!" Sarah's voice is warm and enthusiastic. "How are you? Did you enjoy the show?"
"Yeah, I did! You were absolutely incredible," you say, offering genuine praise and shifting your weight to your other leg.
"Thank you so much! Oh, where are you right now? Are you still nearby? I had told the usher to bring you backstage with Pedro, but it seems like they forgot."
"Oh, um, yeah, I'm near the backstage door," you reply, glancing at the crowd still waiting for autographs.
"Perfect! Some of us are going out for drinks later, and you are welcome to join us!" Sarah’s excitement is infectious.
You stammer, "Uh, I..."
"It'll be great! I promise. I'll introduce you to everyone. You're my best social media manager by far."
Taking a deep breath, you muster, "Okay, yeah, I'd love to come."
"Great! I'll send you the address of where we're headed. We'll meet you there!" Sarah says, her smile practically audible.
"Alright, see you soon." You end the call with a click, clutching your phone tightly as you take another deep breath to steady your nerves and keep the world from spinning.
A ping alerts you to a new message. Glancing at the notification, you read the address and know exactly where to go. With a mixture of excitement and anxiety, you put away your phone and head towards the bar, the city's lights guiding your way.
It took you a while to figure out how to get there, but eventually, you arrive at the bar. As you step inside, a warm hum fills your body, the lights and the pulse of music thrumming through the room. The smoky, dark atmosphere feels electric, bodies moving in a rhythm that seems to make the air itself burn.
Under the soft pink light, everything seems slightly surreal, yet oddly perfect. You spot Sarah, who immediately pulls you into a warm hug, which you happily accept. As you exchange pleasantries near their table, you feel at ease, enjoying the camaraderie.
Then, suddenly, you sense a shift. You glance up and see Pedro looking right back at you. Your heart skips a beat as your eyes meet, and in that instant, the crowded room seems to fade away.
There he is, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart, his gaze steady and intense. As Sarah guides you over to introduce the rest of her friends, castmates, and of course, Pedro, you feel a pull between the two of you.
You muster the courage to speak, telling him your name, and even through the loud speakers and endless chatter, you hear him say your name with a breathless relief. Finally meeting the mystery girl he saw on the subway seems to have stirred something within him.
When you shake hands, there's a lingering touch, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between you. You can't help but duck your head a little, feeling shy under the intensity of his gaze.
"Nice to finally meet you," Pedro says, his voice soft yet filled with warmth.
"Likewise," you reply, your own voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.
In that brief exchange, you both sense something unspoken, a silent understanding that this meeting is more than just chance. And as the night unfolds, amidst the laughter and music, you find yourself drawn to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull of fate.
As Sarah goes to mingle with the rest of the group, you both stand there, caught in a moment suspended in time. The air crackles with anticipation, and you can't shake the feeling that if you asked him to, he'd give up everything just to be close to you.
"You have a way of lighting up a room," he says, his voice low and full of sincerity as he leans in closer.
A blush creeps up your cheeks at his words, and you find yourself smiling despite yourself. "And you have a way of making me feel like I'm the only one in it," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
As the night wears on, you find yourself completely enchanted by Pedro. His easy charm and quick wit captivate you, and it's as if the two of you are in your own little world, separate from the chaos of the club.
He tells you stories about his acting career and his passion for music. You share your dreams and aspirations, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence that you've never experienced with anyone before.
Throughout the night, there are moments where your hands brush against each other or your eyes meet in a lingering gaze. Each time it happens, a spark of electricity shoots through your body, igniting a fire within you.
At one point, he leans in closer to whisper in your ear over the loud music. "I have a confession to make," he says, his warm breath tickling your skin.
You turn to face him, your heart racing with anticipation.
He chuckles softly, the sound sending a delightful shiver down your spine. "I can't deny that you've caught my attention since the moment I saw you on the subway."
The admission sends your heart racing, and you can't help but feel a surge of boldness. "Funny, because you've been on my mind ever since," you confess, meeting his gaze with newfound confidence.
His eyes light up with a mixture of surprise and delight, and you can't help but be drawn to the way his lips curl into a playful smirk. "Is that so?" he teases, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.
You nod, feeling a rush of exhilaration coursing through your veins. "Absolutely," you reply, unable to tear your gaze away from his captivating stare.
Before you can say another word, he takes a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a dance choreographed just for the two of you. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand brushes against your neck, sending tingles of anticipation racing across your skin.
And then, in a moment that feels like it's been plucked straight from a romance film, his lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as you melt into his embrace, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the two of you.
As you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, a sense of euphoria washes over you, like a chemical override in ultraviolet. "I just wanna be close to you," he murmurs, his words sending a thrill through your entire being. A smile dances at the corners of your lips as you revel in the electric connection between you.
"And you could be mine tonight," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tinged with a hint of playful flirtation.
He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with affection as he leans in closer. "I think I could get used to being yours," he says, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, melting away any lingering doubts or fears.
a/n : aaand I just couldn't let this storyline go. Typical. Best to read part one before this one :)
all my other works ▪︎ part one
The reader and Ewan have gotten a lot closer since the press tour for season two, but neither one has made a move. The reader is spotted with another costar, giving rise to rumours of romance.
The press tour came and went like a fever dream. From Paris to New York to London, everyone had been highly anticipated your upcoming show.
Albeit you had a minor role, it all seemed like everything you could ever wish for.
A blossoming career. Lifelong friends made from your peers. The overwhelming support from audiences.
Only two episodes have since been released to the public, and already your character has become a fan-favourite.
Sadly, you and Ewan only had that one press day together, after which you were paired with other cast members. That didn't stop the onslaught of comments under your interviews with him, fans stating how good you looked together. Speculating whether there was something going on between you two.
You are good friends, but that's all.
He calls you often, mostly in the evenings after you're both finished with work. He sticks close to you during premiere after-parties. Now and again, you would catch him looking at you from across the room.
But... well... that's all there is to that.
Maybe he's just being nice. Maybe he only sees you as a good friend, and this is just how he is. With his effortless charm and cheeky remarks that can be mistaken as flirting, you think that maybe you're reading too much into it all.
"Ewan likes you, you know," Phia looks at you over her shoulder, as she does her makeup in front of your dresser.
The cast is having a private get-together in Fabien's apartment for a night, and yourself and Phia decide to prep together, her own place only being five minutes away from yours.
"He's just being nice," you shake your head at her observation, as you sift through your closet looking for a top.
"He's not that nice to everyone," Phia laughs. "Trust me, that lad fancies you and it's plain as day. Ask anyone, I mean, Tom even pointed it out the other day."
"And Ewan was there with you guys?"
"Uh-huh," Phia swivels her chair around, all done, nodding at you, "Poor sod just about turned red as a beet."
"What did he say?" you ask, not even bothering to hide your curiosity. Phia's got your back, after all.
"Well..." Phia glanced away, weighing just how much she is at liberty to say. Ewan's her friend just as much as you are, and she doesn't know how deep she can meddle in this.
"How bad is it?"
"Nothing bad, promise," Phia walks over, then takes over the task of sorting through your closet, "He likes you. A lot. But it seems like he's apprehensive about jumping into a relationship right now."
You plop down on your bed in a huff, "I guess that makes sense."
"Chin up, darling," Phia turns around, arms folded behind her, concealing her chosen top for you. "You're both rising stars, with great careers ahead of you. If you're going to commit to each other, you're gonna have to do it right."
You smile, because you can't help it, the high from landing your dream career not yet subsiding.
"And," Phia continues, "even if he's too chicken to make a move, that doesn't mean you can't torture him with this." She grins, presenting a green satin top, the material weightless and shimmering.
"This? Are you sure?" It was definitely revealing, and it would have your back exposed, only tied together by two strings.
"Ewan loves green," she hands it to you, and you hold it up with concern etched in your features.
"I guess I could wear this," you mumble.
"Oh, you will wear it," Phia smirks, pushing you over to your bathroom so you can get changed.
Already wearing your trusty pair of bootcut jeans, you shimmy into the slinky top, calling out to Phia so she can assist with securing the strings at your back.
"You look absolutely gorgeous," she beams at you in your bathroom mirror. "Ewan is going to melt at the sight of you, doll."
"Huh," you say, checking yourself out in the reflection. "Okay then, I think we're ready - "
Your phone rings, cutting you off. Phia beats you to it, and her face is scandalous when she raises your phone up like it's precious evidence.
Ewan's name flashes bright on the screen.
"Oh, look who it is!" Phia practically sings, "Lover boy."
"Give me that," you demand, reaching for your phone, but Phia quickly sidesteps you and presses the screen to answer the call.
You gasp, and the both of you struggle to keep down an incoming fit of giggles. Phia then clicks on the speaker mode, and Ewan can be heard saying your name, his tone a bit confused.
"Are you there?" Ewan asks.
"Yeah, I'm here," you take the phone, waving to Phia so she doesn't make a fuss.
"Hmm," he says. "I hope I'll be seeing you tonight. The party won't be as good without you."
"Well, Phia and I just finished getting ready," you glance at her, and she makes a kissy face at you.
"Hello, Mr. Whipped," she playfully cuts in with this greeting, effectively letting Ewan know he's on speaker.
You hear Ewan snort on the other end, before he says, "Hello to you too, Phi."
"We should be heading out in 15 minutes, and we'll be there on time," you let him know.
"Okay, I suppose I'll see you guys there," he replies.
"Okay." A beat of silence passes, and Phia just shrugs at you.
"I, uh - " he finally speaks up again, but hesitates.
"Yeah?"
He clears his throat, having decided on saying, "Nevermind. See you soon, darling."
The line cuts off. You slowly let your hand fall to the side, sighing at how it abruptly ended. Shaking off your worries, you look at Phia once more, and she already has her line all prepared. "See you soon, darling," she recites in a low voice, imitating Ewan.
"Oh, shush," you shove her playfully, and she shoves you right back.
"I can't wait to see you, darling," she continues teasing you, laughing, and you can't help but blush and smile, finding her endearing.
"Well, let's go," she says, picking up her things, "your darling boy of Derby awaits."
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Fabien greets you at the door with that perfect smile of his, arms outstretched to pull you and Phia into a hug.
"Welcome, welcome," he greets, leading you into his apartment, where most of the cast is already assembled, including Ewan.
You happily exchange pleasantries with everyone. Chatting with Emma and Olivia. Profusely thanking Matt when he gushes over your outfit. Catching up with Harry and Bethany. All the while sensing that Ewan watches you from somewhere in the room.
You're eventually directed by Tom to the corner table where Ewan and Phia share a loveseat, drinks in hand.
"I'll get you a drink," Tom kindly declares, heading to the kitchen.
"Thanks, Tom," you say. You sit next to Phia, leaving her between yourself and Ewan. You finally say to him, "Hey, you. How are you doing? Got here early?"
Ewan's jaw clenches and loosens, and you catch his eyes quickly drift down to rake over your figure. When he meets your eyes again, his pupils are considerably dilated.
The boy just shamelessly checked you out.
"Ewan," you hear Phia say, elbowing Ewan from beside him. "She just asked you a question, be polite." She wags her eyebrows at you, mouthing the words lover boy.
Ewan hears that, astute as he is, and it snaps him out of whatever haze he seemed to be stuck in.
He shakes his head at himself, offering a smile to you. "I got here just before you guys," he answers. His voice lowers when he adds, "You look really good, darling."
You smile in return. "Thanks. So do you."
Phia beams at the exchange, then makes some excuse of having to catch up with the others. The look she gives you before sliding off the seat reveals that she just wanted to give her two lovebirds some privacy.
"So," Ewan inches closer to you, his arm outstretched on the back of the seat, "how did the script turn out?"
"It was better than expected," you say. He refers to a script you told him about a week ago, for a potential project which will shoot in Atlanta in the fall. "I'm supposed to meet with the director pretty soon to discuss it further, but I think it might be the right fit."
"That's amazing," he expresses sincerely. "Rian Johnson's a brilliant director and they would be lucky to have you as their lead."
"Thanks, Ewan! Yeah, I'm really excited for it, it's a lot different from House of the Dragon, but I'm all in for the challenge, you know."
"Is it a drama film, or thriller, or - "
"Oh, it's a rom-com, actually."
"Oh," he nods, leaning back a little, like that needed a bit of processing. "And you'll have a romantic co-lead..."
"That's right, and - " you confirm.
He smirks, like he just thought of something amusing. "Well, maybe I could - "
But you finish your statement then, " - I think Jacob Elordi has just been selected as my partner in the film."
His face scrunches in apparent distaste, "Has he now?"
"Mhmm." You note the switches in his expression, how his face fell when you mentioned your upcoming co-star. He can't have something against Jacob; they already did a film together and it seemed like it went well on set.
That thing nags at you, that little spring of vanity and desire creating warmth in your stomach. That Ewan might be jealous.
Which is ridiculous, given your shared line of work. Besides, you were not together. What could he possibly be jealous over?
"You've worked with him, right? What's he like?" you continue the topic, keeping watch for the minutiae of his reactions.
"He's... he's a good actor, I guess. Dedicated and all that. Pleasant on set." His answer is curt, not giving away any details, tone flat like he's disinterested.
"Riiight," you nod slowly, smiling impishly at him to get him to lighten up, "I'm sure he'll be just as pleasant on our set then. Good to know."
He catches the look you're giving him, causing the corner of his lips to pull in a soft crooked smile. "Hmm, be that as it may... I think I'll do a much better job as your love interest, don't you?"
"Oh, will you now?" you lean forward, and he does the same.
"Yeah, didn't you hear?" he whispers conspiratorially, like there's a secret to be shared. "According to the internet, we have a lot of chemistry. Practically oozing with it, based on some comments I read."
"You've been lurking on comments? You? The last crusader against all social media?" you joke, fully knowing that he keeps a few shadow accounts just to keep up with how his work is being received by the public.
"Sure," he shrugs his shouders dramatically, " that, and also to stalk your page, of course."
"Oh, of course," you quip, "I wouldn't expect anything less."
You share another laugh, feeling light all over, and even lighter when his fingertips brush against your arm for a few seconds. Goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you sneakily rub your arms to cover the effect he had on you.
Tom reappears from the side, handing you a drink as promised, "What are you kids giggling about over here?"
"Nothing," you share, "just that Ewan is planning to join Instagram."
"A damn miracle, that!" Tom exclaims, lightly punching Ewan in the shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah," Ewan looks at you warmly, playing along, "you can be in charge of keeping my account running."
"Tough job. All those fan messages I'll have to answer."
"Yeah, you'll have to quit your day job," Tom adds jokingly. "It was fun while it lasted. The industry will miss you."
You feel a pressure by your shoulders, and notice that it's Ewan's arm snug behind you on the seat. In the midst of conversation, he must have drawn even closer. You glance down briefly and see his knees touching yours.
You nervously take a huge gulp of your drink. There is no hiding the effect he has on you now.
"Don't you two look cute?" Tom comments, then he stands right in front of the loveseat and puts his phone up. Before you can say anything, a clicking sound makes it clear that he has taken a photo of you and Ewan.
"Awww, I ship it," Tom gushes afterward as he looks at the photo. He then reaches over and passes his phone to you.
The image betrays what the both of you are probably struggling to hide - it's there, clear as day. The attraction, the tension, the chemistry. Ewan practically has his arm around you, looking at you intensely with the inscrutable spark in his eyes. His teeth lightly clamping down on his lip in desire.
There's a subtle scrunch between your eyebrows as you return Ewan's look, a result of trying to maintain composure when he is so close. But your posture is relaxed, almost cozying right up against him, showing just how comfortable you feel around him.
As Tom just said, you ship it.
If only.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Two weeks after the party at Fabien's, the main cast members of House of the Dragon are engaged in an additional round of promo work. Season two is at its peak, and the media is just clamoring to get more from the cast.
Some are booked for photoshoots, others for interviews.
While a minor character in the show, they also wanted you to take part in engaging with the press, but you are already busy with your upcoming film with Jacob. You're currently out in LA, doing rehearsals in preparation for the actual shoot.
Ewan is yet again lounging in a hotel suite, about to do an interview with Vanity Fair.
He sends you a text, in response to your complaint about a difficult scene.
You had shared, It's a pretty dramatic scene. What if I can't cry on command?
He easily texts back, You can do it, darling. Trust me, you're one of the most talented young actors I know.
- Thanks, Ewan. Good luck with your interview!
- Thank you, good luck with rehearsal. I miss --
Ewan pauses typing. I miss you, he aches to send. He does miss you so much. Why can't he just commit to it?
He ends up sending, I'll see you soon, in its place.
He knows he wants to do everything with you. Take you out on dates. Sweep you off your feet. Travel to wherever you will be filming just to see you. Confess how much he wants you.
Why can't he? It's terrifying to him, being with someone, in danger of falling in love - truly falling in love - with a fellow actor, and that relationship exposed to much public scrutiny.
He's always been a private person, so will he be able to handle all of that? Acting is his first love, and he's devoted to the craft. If he succumbs to his desire for you, will that cause him to go off track?
What if the relationship is not well-received? He is aware of how passionate fans can be. What if they cruelly decide to make you the object of their ire as a result? He can't possibly put you through that.
But... but fuck it.
The Aemond in him turns proud and defiant. Why can't he? Why shouldn't he?
He types another message in a second, then clicks send.
And I miss you.
His publicist walks over to him, giving him a few last-minute instructions. In a few minutes, the room is all composed and the interview is ready to begin.
The line of questioning has almost become routine-like for him, a far cry from when he first started giving shorter interviews for previous projects.
The answers flow from him smoothly, stemming from his care for Aemond and the show.
Near the end of the interview, he is asked about the remaining normalcy of his life. Surely it has all changed ever since he landed the show?
"Well, I try to go back to my hometown as much as possible. Just, you know, spending time where I grew up really helps maintain a sense of normal, for me," he responds. "It keeps my feet planted on the ground, that is, when I'm not on dragonback flying high up in the clouds."
The interviewer promptly laughs at his last remark, then asks, "What's next for you? Your fans are just eagerly awaiting your next project. Maybe a film like your new costar? Everyone is excited for her film with Jacob Elordi."
Ewan can't hide the way he perks up at the mention of you, never mind how Jacob is included too. "Ah, yes, well there are some things down the line for me. More than anything, I want to choose a project that I am passionate about, with a story and a character that is rich and complex. Whichever that is, I guess you'll find out soon!"
"Yes, yes, we will!"
"And about her project, I mean, I'm just so proud of her. We've become really close and I think she's a fantastic actress and person. She's going to smash it in this film, that's for sure."
The interviewer nods enthusiastically, smirking as he adds, "Apparently a bit of romance on the cards for her as well!"
"You mean in the movie?" Ewan replies, half-smiling in confusion. But he spies his publicist gesturing to the interviewer from behind the camera, a signal that private affairs are off-limits.
After a final question, the interview wraps up.
His publicist grumbles to him afterward, as they prepare to leave the room. "It was clear that no private questions are allowed. Sorry about that, Ewan."
"It's alright, that was... well, what was he on about? Did he mean romance between the two of us?"
"I believe he's talking about Jacob and her. They were spotted out in LA today. The interviewer probably just wanted you to spill some dirt on your costar."
Ewan frowns, "What do mean they were spotted?"
His publicist appears surprised at his question, and his obvious interest. "They've been papped walking arm in arm in LA. Seemed pretty close, not that it's any of that interviewer's business."
As they walk out of the hotel, Ewan can't help but do an immediate Google search of your name, and sure enough, the headlines about your walk with Jacob are abound.
He can't pinpoint how he feels as he sees the photos, the statuesque Jacob with his arm around you as you beam up at him. He notices that his grip on his phone has tightened, so he turns it off quickly and shoves it in his pocket.
Whatever this is, and how it makes him feel, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit.
His phone vibrates from his pocket, but he ignores it.
So he doesn't yet see your reply.
I miss you too.
Ewaaaan! Make a move, my guy!
As much as we'd like to see them make declarations of love or get into the passion quick, I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. How would two young actors begin dating? Reader, kudos to you for keeping it cool as a cucumber thus far - it's up to Ewan to make the big move.
Part three may be the last. What'll they be? Just friends? PR relationship? Notorious fling? Or new celebrity power couple?
MASSIVE thanks for all the lovely feedback for part one! 💙
Update: if you wish to be tagged in part three, let me know in the comments 💌
a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!
all my other works ▪︎ update : part 2 is up!
The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...
Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.
You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.
Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.
However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.
You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.
She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.
But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.
You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.
Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.
Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.
"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.
Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.
"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."
"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"
"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."
He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"
"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."
"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."
Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.
It's definitely working on you, to say the least.
The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.
"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.
"Good luck," Ewan replies.
You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.
"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"
The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.
"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.
You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."
"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."
"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."
"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"
"I'll be sure to tell him - "
Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."
"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.
"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?
"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.
"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."
"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."
"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."
"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.
"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"
One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.
In the best damn way possible.
"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"
"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.
"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.
"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."
He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."
"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."
"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."
"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."
The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."
Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?
You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.
Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.
Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.
If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.
And with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.
"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."
No, you didn't, not when it's him.
"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.
"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.
"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.
"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"
"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"
"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."
He smirks, "I don't see why not?"
"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."
"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."
"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."
"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?
"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."
"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."
Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...
"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.
"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.
Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.
"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.
He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."
That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."
"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "
"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"
"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.
"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.
"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."
"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."
He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.
"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."
"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.
Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.
But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.
Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"
"Hi, darling."
"Ewan?"
"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "
"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.
"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."
"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."
"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.
He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.
"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.
"What are you doing?"
"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.
He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.
Maybe.
"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"
A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.
"Let's hear it."
"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "
"Not a chance."
" - and swear your love for Aemond."
"Keep dreaming."
He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"
The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤
Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~
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