Only You | Part Two
pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (friend with benefits)
summary: time has passed, a new semester begins and the phantom memories of him come back to your mind on a specific day that makes you rethink your whole idea to let him back into your life.
words: 12.4k
previous part • my masterlist
okay before you read, i want to clarify one thing 😬 i know summer vacations were mentioned, but i came up with a last minute valentine's day idea so i will mention winter vacations now.
i know it doesn't make sense, it should make sense but i would have to change the whole first part, so this second part will be delayed. so please give me time to correct the first part, I will do it as soon as I can. i hope you don't mind and enjoy the chapter a lot 🙏🏽 thank you so much for reading!
AEMOND POV
The vibration of his phone makes him look away from his book.
The faint sound echoes in the library and with a serious look on his face, he immediately takes his fingers to turn off the device, not wanting to be disturbed now by whoever it is. Right now his projects have him so pressured and frustrated that he simply doesn't want any distractions.
But as he looks at the screen, he stops. And he reads the name of the person calling him: Cerelle.
She's not just anyone. So before he knows it, he quickly gets up from his seat and heads for the doors, picking up.
“Hey.”
He doesn't hear her immediate response, what he hears instead are whimpers and low sobs.
He pauses for a moment, his heart skipping a beat. He listens more carefully and she sniffles, letting out a small sigh only to cry again. Then he lets out a long breath and runs a hand through his hair, already imagining what's going on.
“Cerelle.”
He says her name in a low, soft tone, which makes her finally speak.
“I-I… I'm sorry,” she says in a shaky, low, vulnerable voice, ”I know you're probably busy and I didn't want to bother you. B-but…” her voice breaks.
She needs him.
He clenches his jaw tightly, annoyed, frustrated but mostly worried. He hates when she's like this. He hates seeing her and hearing her cry. He hates when he knows she's like this, again, because of his idiot brother.
“What happened?”
She sniffles and cries again, failing to form words at that moment. And then it's the signal for him, to go back inside the library to go get his things.
“Can I see you? P-please?”
“Don't worry. I'm on my way.”
She lets out a sigh. Maybe of exhaustion or relief. He doesn't know. He doesn't really care as he quickly heads off campus, car keys in hand.
“Thank you, Aemond.”
The drive to Cerelle's house feels longer than it really is. It's not the first time she's called him in that state, crying with a shaky, broken voice. And he also knows it won't be the last.
When he arrives at her house, she receives him at the entrance and immediately hugs him, clings to his strong body crying disconsolately in his arms and he holds her instantly.
He always does.
It doesn't even need to be said, he already knows, because he's heard that story many times before. It's nothing new. Yet he hates it.
He hates how Aegon makes her cry to the point of turning her into this, a heartbroken mess with his cruel tactless words and empathy-less behavior. And he finds it harder and harder not to lose control.
But he doesn't do it for her. Because she asks him to just hold her and not leave her alone.
They both go up to her room in silence, where there is no one in the corridors except for a few figures of the employees slipping by.
They both lie down on her bed and Cerelle clings to him again, hugging him tightly and Aemond pulls her tighter against him, wanting to make her feel comfortable and safe.
He strokes her hair, a repetitive and reassuring gesture as he lets time pass. Her tears slowly soak his shirt, but he doesn't care. Until she speaks, her voice barely a whisper.
“You really weren't busy when I called you?”
He rests his chin on her head and makes a slightly tighter grip of his arms around her body.
“No,” he lies, his tone soft, knowing he would give up any commitment to be there for her.
She lets out a small sigh and inhales the scent wafting from his clean clothes and also from his cologne, so masculine and comforting. His fingers continue to trace soft patterns in her hair, while his other hand draws comforting circles on her back.
“Why am I not enough?”
She asks him, raising her gaze to his, tears streaming down her cheeks and a look full of doubt and pain.
He lowers his gaze to her instantly upon hearing her words and frowns slightly, not understanding how she could think such a thing, when she is the most beautiful and perfect girl he has ever met.
He shakes his head slightly, running a hand down her cheek, wiping away her tears with his thumb.
“Don't say that. You're enough. He's the one who's not worth it.”
His hand slides down her back in an automatic gesture, slow and soothing. She sighs against his neck, relaxing slightly and Aemond feels his own breathing grow heavy.
“I don't know why I keep doing this,” she whispers, almost to herself.
Something inside Aemond moves and something inside him ignites.
Hope.
Hope that she is saying that, because she has finally opened her eyes. Because she has finally understood, that Aegon will never change for her.
That everything she is going to receive from him, will only be a moment of comfort to again make it clear to her, with his cruel words, that everything is casual.
Has she finally changed her mind this time?
Has she finally had enough of the situation this time?
Will she finally choose and love him this time?
Hope, illusion, longing, everything is mixed up in him. Happiness, even. And she only ignites that spark in him more, by embracing him with a firmer grip. As if she's afraid he'll leave. But they both know he's not capable of it.
“Stay with me, please. I don't want to be alone.”
The plea strikes his heart. Aemond closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, letting the anger, frustration and helplessness dissolve into the thick air of the room, to make way for all those positive feelings he's having.
“You know I won't leave,” he promises her.
He feels the tickle of her nose nuzzling the side of his neck and of her warm breath crashing against his skin in one of his most sensitive areas.
Aemond lets his nose sink a little deeper into her hair, inhaling of her sweet scent. And then, she tilts her head a little, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.
He tenses instantly. He can't help himself.
His breathing becomes ragged, as his hand still on her back, clinging a little tighter.
“Cerelle,” he murmurs her name.
She continues.
Another kiss, firmer this time, just above his collarbone. Then another, moving up his neck, leaving him breathless. His whole body reacts to the touch, to her closeness, to the way she clings to him desperately, needing him.
And Aemond knows that, they shouldn't. That he, more than anyone else, should be strong. To remember that, when the moment is over, she will come back to him like the other times before. To his brother.
But her words and his thoughts, clinging to him that maybe there will be a chance after this, make him not want to stop. And they remind him, he's never been strong when it comes to her.
Then, in a slow movement, he tilts his head, seeking her face.
She looks up at him, her eyes still reddened, with traces of tears on her cheeks. But this time, there is something else in her gaze. Something that destroys him and revives him at the same time.
Desire.
He lifts a hand and slides it up to her face, carefully, devotedly. His thumb brushes her lower lip, and he feels the tremor in her skin, in her breath. And then, she is the one who closes the distance and Aemond surrenders. Surrenders as he has always done with her.
He reciprocates her kiss. He kisses her.
Slow, deep, taking his time. And she settles her body even more against his, pressing herself against him, needing this, him. Her fingers sink into his hair, deepening the kiss, needing to feel him everywhere, needing him to touch her everywhere and make her his.
And that's what he does, hopeful at all times inside him.
However, he shouldn't have let his thoughts let him get carried away. Because this is nothing new either. Cerelle repeats the same words over and over again at his most vulnerable moment, igniting hope in him. And in the end, there is no change and the pattern repeats itself.
As always, he is there.
It is here, in his arms, where she always ends up. But he knows it's not where she wants to. Because he's her fucking comfort, the temporary refuge.
And worst of all, he allows it, always. But deep down, they both know that, her words are worthless and eventually, she will come back to him. To his brother.
So the only thing he can do, is to hold her as long as he can.
He stays with her all afternoon and has the idea that she will tell him to stay like this for the rest of the day, just the two of them. But then one of the Baratheon sisters calls her and the party at the Martell house looks like a good distraction.
Aemond says nothing as Cerelle tells him they can spend another night together, so he just says goodbye and goes to his apartment, not being in the mood to actually go to any party.
But just knowing that she will be there has him getting ready to be able to spend more time with her. Not directly but to be around her, to see her and take care of her from a distance.
And the hope is still inside him.
The hope that her words have been real. That their moment together this afternoon has meant something. That she has finally understood and finally sees only him.
So he heads to the party and when he arrives, Aegon is already there, as are his other childhood friends. He greets everyone, doesn't really talk much, just has a beer, lights a cigarette and begins to relax, when his gaze inevitably begins to seek her out.
And when he sees her, she is beautiful.
Her figure, her face, her hair, everything about her is the only thing that stands out for him in the whole place. And when he sees her, smiling, talking to people, laughing and dancing… he can't take his eyes off her.
She's the one interesting thing, the one thing that shines the brightest, the one girl he catches his eye and who he could look at all day long without getting tired of it. He just wants to hold her, hug her, kiss her and never let her go.
She is perfect. She has been since they've both been kids.
But then, someone else comes into the picture. Someone catches her eye. Someone draws her in. Someone makes her disconnect from all the people around her to focus only on that one person.
Someone who is not him. It is never him.
Because it is Aegon. It's always Aegon.
The same guy who has made it clear to her multiple times that he doesn't want anything serious with her. The guy who has always made his intentions clear from the beginning, that everything to him is just casual, even drawing the line at every turn and the one who is hard on her to make her understand that he doesn't want her, not really, making her cry.
And yet… Cerelle has hope.
It seems like the fight they had didn't even happen. She keeps allowing him into her life. She keeps allowing herself to get involved with him like that, to hold on to the hope that he's going to change for her.
And then, they both disappear.
Something that does not go unnoticed by Aemond, because it is nothing new. For him, nothing is. In fact, it's another constant pattern in his life. And he sees it every time.
The two of them fight, Cerelle looks for him in tears, he comforts her because he can't afford to reject her and because he couldn't do that to her. Then he hopes that she will finally leave Aegon behind but she comes back to him and they fight again, making him see how the cycle doesn't end and repeats itself over and over again.
However, he has not gotten used to it. A snort leaves his lips as he watches the two of them walk up the stairs together, as he shakes his head slightly and averts his gaze, unable to believe this is happening again.
He clenches his jaw and takes a long swig from his bottle, with a serious look full of bitterness.
The constant ringing and vibrating of his phone catches his attention, annoying him. Irritated, he takes it out of his pocket, looking at it briefly without focusing on the missed calls he has and all the messages he hasn't read.
He only focuses on the messages he just received from Cregan.
Dude, are you coming?
We're all here.
He frowns slightly, having no idea what he is talking about. He also decides not to respond, simply puts his phone away again and then focuses on the stairs.
He doesn't know exactly how long it takes him to get a little distracted, unable to relax any longer knowing that in one of the rooms is her with his stupid brother.
Kissing her and touching her, making her make those sweet sounds that come out of her mouth that he has so often had her make for him.
The mere thought of the two of them together, like that, when it should be just him, makes him rage and make him clench his bottle tightly.
Until finally, Aegon emerges from one of the rooms, buttoning his breeches and with his messy hair. He stumbles a bit and has a smirk on his face, returning to the party as if it were nothing.
It's obvious he doesn't care about her, because that's all he's interested in, a quick fuck, leaving her behind like she's worthless.
Then Aemond heads to the bedroom, upset and annoyed.
He enters and sees her fixing her hair in front of the mirror. But as soon as he crosses the door frame, she immediately sees him through the glass and freezes for a moment.
Aemond watches her seriously as he closes the door behind him and leans against the wood, not taking his intense gaze off her.
Then several minutes pass, long minutes in fact, where neither of them say anything. They just stare at each other.
She is too embarrassed to say anything.
And he's an idiot for thinking, again, that she had finally understood that Aegon will never change for her. So he speaks first when it's clear she won't.
“Are you serious? After today, after he made you cry, you just come crawling back to him?”
She lets out a long breath, tired. Because it's a conversation they've had before, countless times. They always have it.
“Aemond—
“Why do you keep doing this?”
He demands to know, stepping in and walking towards her.
“Why do you let him hurt you again after proving to you over and over again that this is all he wants you for?”
She turns to him, looking at him seriously and guiltily. Of course, not for sleeping with Aegon. No. But for what happened between the two of them this afternoon and for him finding out, again.
“You don't understand—
“What don't I understand?” he interrupts her instantly, his voice serious and full of reproach, hurt, ”Are you really so blind that you don't see the reality of things? Can't you see that he won't change for you?”
His words make her gaze harden. And soon, she too uses a tone of voice similar to his, matching his temper.
“You don't know that.”
“The whole fucking world knows that, Cerelle.”
“This is none of your business.”
He parts his lips, genuinely surprised and confused.
“What?”
Cerelle falters for a second at the sight of his expression. But only for a moment, to again place a serious and firm gaze, watching him with some remorse as well.
But it's more the fact that she wants to make everyone around her, and herself as well, believe that she has hope with Aegon.
“Whatever happens between your brother and me… it is none of your business, Aemond.”
He watches her silently for a moment, incredulous. He shakes his head slightly with a small bitter smile, unable to believe what she is doing.
“It's none of my business, you say?” he repeats and watches her completely serious, ”So it's none of my business when you come looking for me after he makes you cry and ends up treating you like shit?”
That one hurt.
He sees it in her look as she finally drops her tough-girl armor. And that should have made him feel better, by proving her right, but the reality is that it doesn't. He hates seeing her like that, with her crystal eyes and her gaze lowered, saying nothing more.
He lets out a long breath and walks towards her, closing the distance between them. He lifts his hands and holds her face, watching her with all the adoration in his gaze. He watches her with love, with weakness and tenderness.
But also hurt, because she still doesn't understand. Because she doesn't see him the same way he sees her.
“Listen to me…” he says low and soft, stroking her smooth cheek with his thumb, ”I wouldn't make you feel that way. Ever. And you know it.”
Cerelle watches him sadly and remorsefully, shaking her head slightly to raise her hands and place them on top of his.
“Aemond—
“No, please, listen to me,” he interrupts her immediately, tightening his grip on her face, ”Why don't you just forget about him and try it with me?”
He tells her, no, begs her.
“Just…forget about him. You know we can work together.”
“Aemond, we've already talked about this—
“He's not worth it. He doesn't deserve you. But I do. I'd give you everything, everything. The whole fucking world if you ask me to,” he insists.
“Aemond—
“Please, just—
“You're not him!” she exclaims loudly, stopping him.
For an instant, Aemond stands completely still, as if those words have pierced his chest. His breath hitches and his lips part slightly.
He blinks slowly, analyzing her, looking for something in her gaze, some doubt or some hint that she is not meaning it. But there isn't.
The words get stuck in her throat, as Cerelle watches him with remorse and sadness as she notices his broken expression that he so desperately tries to hide, breaking his heart over and over again.
Then she purses her lips and lowers her gaze, as if she hates what she is about to say. But still, she says it.
“I know it's hard to understand. I wonder the same thing too, I wonder why I can't love you too,” she says exasperated, frustrated, ”Why do I keep doing this to myself. Why I can't choose you. But it's just… I can't help it and you…” she shrugs, shaking her head with a sad look, ”You're not him.”
Aemond watches her silently and finally his gaze recomposes itself, a serious and bitter look, the one he shows everyone. He clenches his jaw and releases her, taking a step back.
Then he laughs. An empty, bitter laugh. He shakes his head as he averts his gaze from her and runs a hand over his face before looking at her again, his gaze hard.
“Then do me a favor…
He says after, leaving the rest of what he wants to say up in the air as she looks at him caught between guilt and resignation.
“Don't come looking for me again after he tells you to fuck off again,” he finally says.
Cerelle closes her eyes for a moment, as if his words were a certain blow. Aemond steps back again, watching her, seeing what she is thinking and what she will actually do, just as he does.
“But you will, won't you?” his tone is bitter, mocking, but deep down it's just pure pain, ”As if I don't know what this is like. Us,” he points between the two of them with his finger.
He shakes his head in disbelief, with a restrained fury that threatens to boil over at any moment.
“I don't know why I'm even saying this either. Because we both know you'll be cruel enough to call me back…” he says, his gaze darkening. “And I'll be an idiot enough to be there for you again.”
She opens her mouth, maybe to protest, to say something, but she doesn't. She has nothing to say, because she knows he's right. So she can only say his name, in supplication.
“Aemond—
He lets out a hollow laugh, another one, in disbelief. Stopping her. And then he exhales wearily, his posture no longer one of fight, but of surrender.
“It's always the same thing.”
Cerelle's eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't let them fall. She just watches him, with a pain that is not enough for him.
“I'm sorry.”
He shakes his head, with a crooked smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
“No, you're not. You're not sorry.”
He doesn't let her say anything else. He doesn't either, because he's already tired and has nothing more to say.
So he simply turns around and walks out of the room slamming the door, annoyed, angry and clenching his jaw helplessly. But the truth is… he can't be mad at her.
Even he doesn't believe everything he has said.
Because he knows, just like Cerelle, that if she calls him, he'll answer and go to her to comfort her the second. Always.
And that's what makes him feel most upset of all. That he can't turn her away. He can't ignore her. He can't detach himself from her because he loves her, since childhood. But she's never going to love him back, because of his brother.
After that, maybe he should have gone to his apartment to get his shitty day over with. Or maybe he should have gone to clear his head somewhere else. He knows he should have gone somewhere else, except the pub.
You still remember it all too well.
You remember his touch, the feel of burning skin, his kisses, his breathing and the hypnotic way he held you under his spell.
So many moments in his bed, in his kitchen, in his living room, in his bathroom and in your dorm room. Moments you don't think you can leave behind so easily, when all you want is to live them again. To experience that feeling again, even if it was just between the two of you.
But you also remember that night, at that party, when you found out about her.
A party at the fraternity of Aegon Targaryen, Aemond's older brother, which was at it's peak. The crowd moved to the rhythm of the music, which echoed off the walls, with the air charged with the smell of alcohol, perfume, cigarettes and weed.
Outside, in the huge garden, students gathered around the illuminated swimming pool, while inside the huge house the atmosphere was more tense and noisy.
You were sitting at the kitchen counter, with a glass of water between your fingers, feeling the sweat on your skin after having danced with Alysanne and Sara for more than an hour.
You caught your breath and rested your feet a bit, while they continued dancing through the crowd. You let out a long breath, looking around briefly.
Aemond was also there, with Cregan and Jason. The three of them had arrived at the party together. But, as it is always in public, he kept his distance from you.
You were used to it.
Or at least that's what you always told yourself in every situation like that when you realized it wouldn't be any different.
You bit the inside of your cheek and watched him from a distance. He was there, calm and relaxed smoking a cigarette with the guys. Like you, he was just watching the people around him as they talked to each other.
Nothing was new.
You looked away to grab your phone to check the time when a voice in your direction caught your attention.
“Y/N! How good it's to see you!”
Aegon, with a half-empty bottle in his hand and a cocked smile on his lips, told you that he's already drunk, but at least he could still hold his own.
“You want one? I think you need one.”
He told you as he stood next to you. He held something out to you and you looked at it, it being a brownie.
“Really?” you looked at it between amused and expectant.
“Come on! It's a party!”
“No thanks. I don't want to eat that,” you told him pushing it away with your hand.
“It's just a chocolate brownie,” he told you innocently.
”Weed more like it.”
He tried to convince you, when suddenly, his gaze focused on something in the crowd and his smile came hooked again.
“Oh look! My dear childhood friends.”
You watched him slightly confused and amused, watching as he walked towards a group of people quickly, stumbling.
And simply because you had nothing better to do, you watched to whom he was going. And the recognition was almost instantaneous.
Alysanne told you about how Aemond or his family, rather, have friendships with people who are just as important as they are in the world of business management.
So you recognize the children of those important people, sons and daughters of the elite, the Baratheon's, Tyrell's and Lannister's. As Aegon said, his childhood friends.
You didn't think much of it, at first. Clearly he invited them to his party and they attended. Completely normal. However, someone caught your attention.
You watched as a girl from that group, tall, impeccably dressed, beautiful, with her bright red hair falling in perfect waves down her back and wearing a dress that fit her figure perfectly, after greeting Aegon, walked over to Aemond.
Normally you wouldn't have minded, she is his childhood friend.
But… you see how she approached him so naturally, with that confidence that only someone like her can have. She kissed him gently on the cheek and then said something to him, leaning slightly towards him and placing her hand lightly around his arm.
And Aemond did not pull away.
There was no look of discomfort, no expression of indifference or seriousness. In fact, he looked relaxed, even amused and attentive to the conversation. There was a half-smile on his lips, barely visible and one he rarely let show.
You felt a flip in your chest, something thick and warm that then settled in your stomach like a stone.
You had no right to feel this way. You knew perfectly well. He doesn't belong to you. He has never promised you anything. But still, that image turned your stomach in a way you couldn't control.
Something about that interaction felt different to you. Like there was a story there, something you didn't know.
Then Alysanne came to your rescue from that moment, taking you with them again to dance. You thought about staying where you were, but you needed a distraction. So again you joined the impromptu dance floor.
However, you couldn't help but look in their direction again, wanting to see everything. But it was impossible to see it because of the partitions of the house.
And when you had visibility again, Aemond was gone.
You searched the crowd for the next few long minutes but nothing. It was as if he had vanished. He wasn't with Cregan and Jason. Nor with anyone you knew. So you stood there, expecting to see him at any moment, but nothing.
Then, you saw Aegon, drunk and very happy, enjoying the party. And without thinking, you went to him, because he is the only one you can ask without him suspecting anything. You didn't want to be obvious with your friends. And surely tomorrow he would forget all about it.
“Hey, Aegon,” you grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him towards you.
“Hey, Y/N! What's up?”
“Hum… have you seen Aemond?”
“Aemond?” he repeated, dragging out his words, “Mmm… no. I don't think so.”
You were about to speak when he turns to a girl walking by, with that characteristic red hair.
“Hey T-Tyshara,” he grabbed her arm, stopping her, “Hey, tell me something…” he said, clearly drunk as that girl gave him an annoyed look as he slipped an arm around her shoulders, “Have you seen my little brother, hm?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Who? Aemond?”
”Yeah, that one.”
She sighed, releasing from his grip.
“I think I saw him with my sister a while ago,” she said nonchalantly, ”I don't know. They left, I think.”
“What sister? Cerelle?”
“I don't have another one, you idiot.”
The girl left, giving him a look of displeasure, while you felt something inside you stop for a second. And then, Aegon let out a laugh, leaning against the wall so he wouldn't lose his balance.
“Oh, my little brother…” he said amused, ”He never gives up.”
You felt a sting in your chest and watched him completely attentively and slightly confused.
“What do you mean?” you asked him, trying to sound nonchalant.
He watched you with a lazy smile.
“Oh come on. Don't tell me you didn't know. It's so fucking obvious.”
“What's obvious?”
He laughed again, shaking his head.
“Well… Cerelle's not ugly, you know? She's beautiful. But she's not my type. She's too perfect, always wanting to be the perfect girl. And she always wants to be close to me, which annoys me.”
You frowned, not believing for a second that he was talking about that girl… Cerelle.
“I've turned her down, many times. Though, of course, we've had our moments,” he said with a smile and meaningful look, ”But she wants more. And I… I don't like that,“ he let out a dramatic sigh, ”Oh but Aemond…” he smiled amused, ”Aemond adores her. He's been in love with her forever. And she… let's just say she accepts him, but she's never wanted him in the same way.”
Suddenly, everything around you kept moving. People laughing, drinking, dancing, having a good time. But you, you were disoriented. You watched Aegon intently, only listening to the echo of his words.
And Aegon kept talking, oblivious to the rigidity of your expression and your tense posture.
“He's always there, following her around like an idiot. And she, she just likes his attention,” he said nonchalantly, ”Anyway, too bad. I can't do anything for him.”
You didn't react. You didn't say anything. You just nodded and Aegon walked away, stumbling away, while you stood alone in a corner of the party.
In that moment you knew where Aemond was and with whom. In that moment you understood the changes in his attitude, why it didn't feel anything like before.
And even though logic told you that you should end everything, whatever you had with him and that you should stop it before you hurt yourself more… you didn't do it.
On the way back to your dorm, the pain was there, weighing on your chest. And after that night, things didn't change and you understood better.
Every time there was a party hosted by Aegon, the pattern repeated itself. Cerelle would appear and at some point in the night, Aemond would disappear and then so would she.
But there were also times when, in the middle of those same parties, when Aemond was distant and serious, and she would suddenly appear, something in his expression would change. His mood would improve. Her shoulders would relax, her gaze would soften just perceptibly.
You stayed in your corner, danced with the girls, laughed with the boys, kept your smile on your face and let the night go by without showing what you felt.
You kept telling yourself that you shouldn't care and that you can't claim him because he and you are nothing.
You are not special. You are not different. You are just someone who is there, when he needs you. When no one else saw him, when he could let his guard down without fear of being judged.
And yet, you didn't leave him. You didn't want to. You couldn't. Because deep down, a part of you still hoped that, someday, he would see you as something more.
But that day, it never came.
Until he asked you to go to Dragonstone with him.
It had been a long week. With exams and final projects due, neither of you had time to rest and see each other. It was a stressful few days, with a lot of worries and responsibilities. Until finally the two of you made some space and he visited you in your dorm room.
You had missed him. So much.
You had only been able to talk by text. Rarely did he or you call each other. And finally the two of you managed to release at least a little stress before returning to the stressful reality, which wasn't over yet.
So you enjoyed the moment of holding him, of his arms around your body pulling you close to him, giving you that peculiar and divine warmth that only he can give you.
Both of you are exhausted. And for now, you can only be like this, in each other's grip, in your bed. His fingers gently and slowly caress the skin of your shoulder, while you have your face buried between his neck and chest, inhaling his delicious scent that makes you feel protected and comfortable.
Just a few more weeks and we are finally done with this semester.
You had thought then, so you could go back to the routine of before, of you in his arms. Unless he… had plans for that winter break.
You opened your eyes and stared at a mole on his shoulder specifically, thinking about it. You didn't know if you should bring up that topic, but the doubt lingered in your mind and so did the curiosity. So you decided to ask him about it.
“Will you be leaving for the winter vacations?”
You asked softly, with your nose touching his jaw, looking at a specific spot in your room.
He didn't answer for a moment, while still continuing to make those invisible lines on your skin with his long, pale fingers.
“Hm… probably,” he said in a low, husky voice against your head.
His response should not have disappointed you. You know he deserves it more than anyone else. He kills himself to get the best grades and to maintain his excellent grade point average that he should enjoy a nice, relaxing vacation.
Yet it did. Because that meant you would only have him with you those last few weeks of the semester.
“What about you?” he asked you later, ”Do you have plans?”
“Mmm… no. Not really,” you confessed.
That must have surprised him, because all his friends would be leaving King's Landing. The only thing they had been talking about, was the winter vacations.
“Why?” he asked you genuinely curious.
“Maybe I'll visit my mom and siblings for Christmas and New Year's,” you said vaguely, not really having it prepared, “And I'll come back to spend the rest of the vacations here. But I don't know,” you ran your hands down his bare back, pulling your body closer towards him if possible, ”Where will you go?”
He let out a long breath, at the same time he brought one of his hands to your cheek and lifted your gaze to him, as he lowered his to you.
“Dragonstone.”
Your eyes met his, as his thumb stroked your cheek slowly and gently.
That electricity you felt when you were with him, in that moment manifested. Neither of you spoke anymore and his lips brushed yours, as he continued his caresses and watched you as if he wanted to memorize every faction of your face in his memory.
Your breaths mingled and you loved the way your bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly.
Then, he kissed you. Slowly and precisely.
You reciprocated the kiss, as his mouth moved over yours firmly, unhurriedly. One of his hands went down to your bare lower back, caressing your skin and sending shivers down your spine, as you leaned closer to him.
You sighed against his mouth and wrapped your fingers around the base of his nape, drawing him closer to you, feeling that slight shiver run down his spine each time he exhaled against your skin.
Your lips barely parted for seconds before they met again, hungry, insatiable.
Aemond's lips slid to your jaw, then down your neck, marking a path with his warm, electrifying breath.
“Come with me.”
He said to you suddenly in a low voice, almost like a whisper against your skin, but clear enough for you to hear and open your eyes.
“What?” you said, thinking maybe you had misheard.
“Come with me.”
He repeated, never failing to mark your skin and never failing to make you sigh with every touch.
“Where to?”
You asked, your voice barely audible between your soft gasps. And Aemond didn't answer right away. Instead, he kissed you again, more intensely this time, before answering you.
“To Dragonstone.”
The kiss stopped for an instant. Not because you wanted to break away, but because his words left you momentarily breathless.
Dragonstone.
It wasn't just a vacation destination. It was his home. The island where he grew up, the place he always returned to when he wanted to get away from it all. And now he was asking you to go with him.
You couldn't move. You just watched him slightly surprised, definitely not expecting that. Instead, you were expecting him to take it back or tell you he didn't mean it.
But he just looked at you with the same intensity as always, with that indecipherable gleam in his blue eye. His hand went up to your cheek, outlining your jaw with his thumb, waiting for a response.
But instead of speaking, you kissed him again, smiling big against his lips. You felt happy, excited and illusioned because you had hope.
That must have meant something. Asking you to go with him, to that ancient and wonderful place, his home, must have meant something.
Even knowing about Cerelle, you had hope.
You have distanced yourself from your group of friends.
With the new college semester, things have changed a bit in your life.
Stricter teachers, more important and difficult subjects, more responsibilities and more pressures leading up to your graduation next year.
You still talk to them, in fact the group chat is more active than ever and you've seen them individually or in duos between classes to say hello and catch up a bit.
They still hang out in the gardens, as usual, even though most of them don't share many classes together anymore. You talk and see more with Sara and Alysanne, that's not changing at all.
The difference is that you don't share any classes with anyone and the times are more reduced between classes, except for some free hours in which you don't coincide with someone of them or the girls.
And when you say they… you don't include him.
He didn't come back to look for you since that day, when you came back to the city and he was waiting for you in front of your door. After you came back to make it clear to him that you don't want to have anything more to do with him, until now your wish has remained.
You have seen him a few times since then, from afar. Walking through the campus, you suddenly spot that distinctive silver hair in the distance blending in with the crowd.
But you avert your gaze instantly, not wanting to look any more than necessary even though it's probably Aegon. You just didn't want to know.
And you've only seen it once directly, days after the new semester started.
You were still having trouble finding your new classrooms. The directions were a bit confusing having not frequented other buildings you were used to.
It was raining. You remember it well.
And you were rushing up the stairs, already ten minutes late. When suddenly, as you turned to continue up the stairs, you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw legs in front of you in your line of sight.
You raised your gaze to apologize, as the two of you would have collided because of your speed. But as soon as your eyes took a direct look at that distinctive, bright blue staring back at you, you froze.
It was him.
And he seemed just as surprised to see you.
However, he didn't move either. Nor did he say anything. He just looked at you.
It was like going back to that day, in your residence. The rain was still pounding on the windows of the building and the hallway was almost empty. Only the distant echoes of footsteps and voices filtered between you, but at that moment everything disappeared.
You swallowed hard, unable to move, with everything that happened hitting you like a wave of memories. Your chest began to rise and fall with deep breaths.
And he, he was looking at you in an intense, burning way.
It seemed as if his mind was working at full speed, as if he was choosing what words to say carefully. As if he knew that anything he said could break what little was left between you.
And then, that's when you saw it.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't frustration. It wasn't resignation. It was a silent, desperate plea.
Talk to me.
Tell me you really don't want me anymore.
Tell me you hate me.
Tell me something.
Anything.
But you couldn't.
A lump tightened your throat, the pressure of his gaze was too much. Your heart pounded and you didn't know what to do, with every memory invading without stopping your whole mind.
However, you didn't let your thoughts and memories block you any more than necessary.
Even though he was looking at you like that, you didn't let it affect you anymore and quickly walked around him, putting enough distance between the two of you to avoid even a brush and continued on your way, leaving him behind.
That was the last time you saw him.
But that encounter, only made you couldn't stop thinking about him for the next few days.
Fortunately you haven't run into him again. And you hope it never happens. Or at least not soon. You know it's best to just move on, let go of what you both once had and stick with as much of the good as the bad.
However, he has his moments.
Vague, unexpected moments when he comes back into your mind and you remember it all. Memories of what you both went through together. Though you always don't think too much about it.
It's not something you decide to stay with all day. Then you go back to your projects, your mind gets busy and you forget about it.
One day, though, you're suddenly thinking and remembering everything about him. Too much.
It's not something you think about in a few minutes or a few hours. No. That stays with you all day long. And you can't help it. The nostalgia, the moments, the memories, it all comes back to you.
You wonder at all the things that could have been different. Of what would have happened. Questions and illusions that keep you awake even at night.
And the next day, the memory of all that was and all that could have been, is present on Valentine's fucking day.
Great.
You think as you look around you with a serious stare at all those girls with bouquets of flowers in their hands, stuffed animals, balloons and details walking around the campus.
You didn't even remember and just today your mind reminds you of him too.
Fortunately you only have three classes today, two hours each. Honestly it could be worse, since your other days, except today on Fridays, start from nine in the morning and end until seven.
You think positively that your hours will pass quickly. You just have to pay close attention, keep your mind busy and the hours will fly by.
But of course, this day is not in your favor. The hours go by incredibly long.
Even some of your classmates enter the classrooms with beautiful bouquets of flowers and details. You also see boys with flowers in their hands, among other details that make you roll your eyes and groan internally.
Everything is so beautiful, so pretty and so ideal that you want to be one of those girls. You also want to be given a bouquet of roses.
But no. Today you are a spectator.
And when your classes are finally over, you feel a little pathetic walking across campus back to your dorm with your hands empty compared to the many girls around you carrying their gifts.
So you pick up your pace, wanting to get to your room as soon as possible not wanting to see any more of this.
You greet some girls you meet at the entrance to your dorm, both holding a rose in their hands and head towards the stairs, when a voice stops you.
“Y/L/N!”
You turn around and notice Miranda, the woman who works as the receptionist at this residence. You frown slightly and head towards her desk, as you rarely speak to her.
“Yes?”
“They left something for you,” she lets you know.
The frown on your forehead furrows further, confused.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am. It says your name.”
You shake your head slightly, since you don't get anything. And if you do, whether it's from your mom, which has been very few times, she lets you know, always.
So you wait expectantly and she finally lets you see it, lifting it slightly in the air to place it on the table in front of you.
Your breath catches the instant you see it.
With your lips parted, completely surprised and in disbelief, she hands you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. But not just any flowers. They are hydrangeas, your favorite.
White and purple, your favorite color, all together they make a beautiful flower bouquet for you.
You gently run your fingertips over their petals, admiring it and not being able to believe that this is for you. Even for a moment you think it might be a mistake, even though they are precisely your favorite flowers and colors.
But Miranda is right. There is a small card tied to the bouquet that says your name.
But who gave this to you?
“Thank you.”
You say to Miranda, taking it in your hands and arms once you come out of your surprise.
And you quickly try to recompose your reaction, as you didn't want to look like a girl who has never received flowers in her life or who isn't used to such details on days like this.
But too late, you've already made the impression.
You go up to your dorm room and leave the bouquet on your desk. Having no idea who sent this to you. But then, a person comes to your mind.
Is it possible…?
No. Absolutely not.
The idea is ridiculous. It can't be. You only think about him because you haven't stopped remembering him for two whole days now and it just can't be.
And now seeing the little card, you don't want to open it.
What will you feel? Happiness or disappointment if it's not him? You don't know. And you don't want to find out.
But as you look at the card, curiosity and uneasiness only take over you more and more. You stare at it as if you could burn it with your gaze, nervous and unsure.
And once your patience is worn out, you finally take it and open it, simply reading it without further ado, wanting to know who it was.
When then, your breath catches again and your heart skips a huge beat.
I know it's too late now, but this was what I was supposed to give you on your birthday. I regret that day and the day you came back. I didn't express myself the right way and I didn't mean everything I said to you. I still think about you, all the time. Only you.
Your throat closes.
You read the words over and over again, surprised, wanting to make sure you're getting the message right, not getting it wrong.
But it's as clear as day. It's him. It's definitely him.
Your fingers squeeze the note, feeling the tremor in your hands and beginning to feel your emotions begin to invade you.
Your mind flashes back to that day, your birthday. To his voice, to his gaze. To the way every word he said to you tore you up inside. To the way you ended it all. And to the way he tried to get close to you afterwards. But now… this.
You don't know what's worse.
You return your gaze to your flowers, so beautiful and so perfect, with a sad look.
You once told him that these flowers are your favorite. Just once. And you thought he wasn't even paying attention to you. But this is confirmation that he did, he remembered.
I still think about you. All the time.
You close your eyes and drop heavily onto your bed, bringing a hand to your forehead and letting out a long breath, then stare at a blank spot on your ceiling, doing nothing.
He is still thinking about you. And worst of all, you haven't stopped thinking about him either.
But now, what should you do?
You sit up slowly, feeling the stiffness in your muscles, the restlessness in your chest. You look at the flowers again, their delicate white and purple petals spreading before you.
He still thinks of you.
Your mind repeats, but… what does that really mean?
He says he's sorry, he regrets, but is it enough?
Words and flowers can erase everything that happened? You should unblock him and thank him for the gesture? You should talk to him? But what is going to happen with Cerelle? He is choosing you but he is still going to keep her?
You don't know anything. And you don't know if you want to know.
Part of you wants to hold on to this, wants to believe that there's something still between you, something worth saving. But the other part, the part that still remembers the pain, forces you to stand firm.
You sigh heavily, running a hand through your hair as your gaze returns to his note.
Maybe you should ignore it. You should pretend you never received it.
But the problem is, now that you've read it, now that you know Aemond is still there, in the distance, thinking of you… you can't pretend you don't care.
But you don't know what to do either.
Two weeks have passed.
Two weeks since you received the hydrangeas and that note that has kept you awake at night.
Two weeks in which your life followed the same course. Your classes, your projects, even outings with your friends have gone on as normal.
Two weeks in which you haven't made a decision. Or actually, you haven't been able to.
And every time you find yourself alone, your mind goes back to the same old question: what should you do?
But you never have the answer.
You know it's not an easy decision. And you don't want to take it lightly because you don't want to make the wrong one.
So you've put it off, telling yourself you need time. But that time has only led you to be thinking about him almost all the time. His memory is not just an echo in your mind, but something constant.
And oddly enough, you started seeing him more frequently on campus. From afar, never too close, whether it was in the hallways, in the gardens, common areas or leaving one building while you were entering another.
His silver hair always gave him away. But he didn't see you. That's the difference. He doesn't notice you. And you feel like the universe is mocking you by constantly putting him in your path.
You wondered if it was a coincidence. You wondered if you should do something about it all. And every time the doubt appeared, you ignored it, convincing yourself that the right thing to do was to move on so you could think better of it.
But in the end, you didn't make a decision.
And it seemed like you finally had, when you found yourself with your gaze fixed on the screen of your phone, staring at the 'unlock' button on Aemond's contact.
You thought about doing it, sending him a message or even calling him, giving him a chance to talk. But after staring at the screen for who knows how long, completely unsure and biting the inside of your cheek too hard, you'd get frustrated and put the device aside, really not wanting to make the wrong decision.
He hasn't looked you up since Valentine's Day either. He must have done it, right?
Who knows, maybe to try again to talk to you. But he didn't, because he knew you would probably reject him and not give him the chance.
You let out a long breath, feeling like this is all torture. You haven't been fully focused in your classes, you've fallen behind on some projects, you haven't prepared enough for your exams and… you don't know what the fuck to do.
Until finally, one day, sick of it all, you made a decision.
The decision wasn't sudden, but the moment you realized you couldn't avoid it anymore was.
You know it can end badly or it can end well. You have no idea which it will. But you will when you finally do something about it.
So you text Cregan, asking him what time Aemond usually goes to the library and he tells you without a problem. The library is the place where you know you're bound to find him, so once your classes are over around the time he's supposed to be there, you head over to him.
Maybe you should have texted or called him before?
Your nervous mind tells you as you walk, without stopping. You watch curiously as it is raining again, having no idea why it is always raining when something related to him is happening.
But you don't care.
You hold your coat against your body, protecting yourself from the cold, but nothing could protect you from the whirlwind of emotions inside you.
Every step brought you closer to him, and with every meter you walked, the certainty of what you were about to do became more real. You're so nervous. You don't even know exactly what you're going to say to him. It's been so long since you last spoke to him. And yet, he still has this effect on you.
When the entrance to the huge library is finally only a few meters away from you, you feel like your heart is definitely going to burst out of your chest. But before you regret it, you push yourself to walk through those doors, knowing it's now or never.
You feel the immediate change in the atmosphere. The sound of the rain becomes a distant murmur, replaced by the faint rustle of pages and the occasional low murmur of students sitting at tables or between shelves.
You move among them, hands tucked inside your coat pockets to keep them from noticing that you're shaking. You slowly walk around the place, looking in every action, trying to find that silver hair.
Until you see him.
Obviously it's not hard at all. And again, you freeze, just watching him from a distance.
You can turn on your heels and walk away, pretend you've never been here and forget it, leave things as they are. He wouldn't even notice, because he hasn't noticed your presence and doesn't feel your gaze on him.
So that's the easiest thing to do. Avoid hurting yourself, protect yourself, in case this is a very bad idea.
But the truth is, you can't keep fooling yourself.
You really want to do this.
You want to clear the air once and for all. You can choose to continue if it's good for you and what you really want. But if not… then finally end it all as it should be.
You take a deep breath, feeling the air fill your lungs along with courage. You press your lips together, still having your gaze fixed on him. And then, cautiously, you take the first step, then another, another, and another. Until finally you are only a few feet away from him.
He hasn't noticed you yet. But you have no doubt he will soon. And you don't want it to be awkward, so you have to talk to him, call out to him. Nervous, your steps are a little slower, but sure, towards him.
You open your mouth, you're about to say his name when suddenly:
“Aemond.”
But you don't say it.
Someone else says it behind you.
You watch beside you and immediately that red hair appears in your line of sight, walking quickly towards him and catching his attention, as well as yours.
You stand still, watching as she walks towards him, with every plan you had in mind now simply forgotten. And then, he sees you.
He parts his lips, slightly surprised, you don't know if it's because of you or her, but his eye is fixed on you, watching as you had every intention of speaking to him, of heading towards him.
And then, just as surprised, he watches Cerelle too, right in front of you. Not understanding anything. But you do.
You knew this was a bad idea. You knew it, but you convinced yourself you could handle it. But now, with her in the middle, as she has always been, you feel your heart sink in your chest and you suddenly feel very small.
Discomfort grows in your chest and suddenly your hands can't stop shaking, feeling clumsy and heavy.
And you don't want to stay here, watching as he's going to choose her, again.
You bite the inside of your cheek and try to control your overflowing emotions, staring at the ground, that you don't even realize he's looking at you.
And when you give him one last glance, you see his attentive expression, surprised and with something else. Something you can't figure out because your mind is too busy telling you to leave. And that's what you do.
You spin on your heels as quickly as your determination crumbles and walk away without looking back.
You walk through the library doors and the cold rain air hits your face, but you don't stop. You just want to go to your room, to forget all of this, to finally put it behind you.
Your heart pounds as you walk at a fast pace, hugging yourself in an attempt to find some solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions that consumes you. The skin on your arms bristles from the cold breeze that sneaks through your clothes.
And although it's not raining hard, the air is permeated with moisture.
Your gaze is kept low, avoiding anyone who passes you, concentrating only on getting to your residence. But as you move forward, you realize something: you can't leave on foot.
Not like this. Not when the rain is too heavy and there's no sign that it will pass quickly. And you don't even have an umbrella with you.
You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment. Maybe you could call an Uber or wait for it to calm down a bit. You don't have much choice, but you also don't have the energy to think of a better solution.
Then, just as you're about to turn in the direction of one of the coffee shops or with another of the libraries on campus in mind to wait and at the same time make progress on projects, a firm, familiar voice stops you.
“Wait!”
Your body instantly freezes, as if every fiber of your being instantly recognizes the soft, confident tone of his voice. The sound echoes through the air, dissipating any other noise around you.
You don't need to turn around to know who it is. You know.
His footsteps are getting closer and closer, you can hear it perfectly. And when you turn around, he's right in front of you.
Confused, you see how his gaze is fixed on you, with his spotless dark jacket, his backpack hanging from his shoulder and his relaxed but firm posture. He is actually standing in front of you. And your chest tightens with a mixture confusion and something else, something you can't quite name.
You don't understand why he's here, why he's not with her, why he's looking for you. And you don't get a chance to ask because he speaks again.
“Let me drive you.”
Confusion takes root in you more strongly, creating an uncomfortable emptiness in your stomach. You blink, trying to decipher what's going on, trying to understand why he's telling you that, why he seems so determined.
He looks at you with the same impenetrable expression as always. And you say nothing, because you don't know what to say. Your lips part in an attempt to respond, but your voice gets stuck in your throat when, behind him, a figure catches your attention.
And then you see her.
Cerelle.
She stands in the distance, at the entrance to the library, her large, bright eyes fixed on Aemond, watching him with a mixture of confusion, despair and sadness. Her posture is rigid, her lips slightly parted as if she is about to call out to him, but she doesn't. She just stands there, watching him, waiting.
She waits for him to look at her, to turn and for him to come back to her.
But he doesn't.
And you don't understand.
Every part of you screams that this is wrong, that this shouldn't be happening, that he shouldn't be here with you when she's clearly waiting for him. So, without much thought, the question escapes your lips before you can stop it.
“But don't you have to go with her?”
The words hang suspended between you. Aemond blinks, but doesn't answer right away. He just watches you silently, his jaw tense, his expression indecipherable.
And you watch him intently, to watch her again and him again, with the silence dragging on too long. Until finally, in a low, soft, firm tone he speaks.
“Let's go.”
He doesn't answer your question. He doesn't look back. He just says those words, clear and decisive.
And that should be enough for you to refuse, to insist on an answer, to tell him you want no part of this. Not again.
But he's overconfident, as if he's making a decision, leaving her behind. And a part of you, the most vulnerable and desperate part, wants to understand what's going on. It wants explanations.
So you nod.
You say nothing more as he places a hand on your shoulder cautiously and gently, to begin directing you toward one of the parking spaces.
He opens the passenger door for you and you settle into the seat with the sound of rain hitting the windshield in the background. He starts the engine, the heater begins to fill the interior with warm, enveloping air, but the silence between you is almost unbearable.
The drive is short, just a few minutes as your residence is not far away, but every second feels eternal. Neither of you speaks. You don't even look at each other.
Until finally, Aemond pulls up in front of your building and breaks the silence.
“You wanted to talk to me?”
Your gaze lingers on your hands, on how your fingertips trace invisible lines on your pants. You don't know where to start, don't even know if there's still any point in saying anything.
Still, you nod. But you don't fully answer his question.
“I thought you were going with her,” you mutter, without thinking too hard.
The tension in the car intensifies. Aemond says nothing. He doesn't respond. And for some reason, that makes your chest tighten even more.
And instead of answering, he simply points to your building with a slight nod of his head.
“Can I come up with you?”
Your breath catches in your throat. You look up at him, actually seeing him for the first time since he stopped you in the middle of the hallway.
And the only truth that resonates in your head is that you don't understand anything. You don't understand why he's here, why he's asking you this. But after a long second, finally, you nod.
And without another word, you both get out of the car and head to your dorm room.
Your door closes behind Aemond with a faint click. But the sound echoes in the air like an echo. Everything around you feels strangely quiet. The air is thick, charged with an almost palpable tension, and you can feel Aemond's presence behind you, so close that you can feel the warmth he exudes.
Nerves invade you and you move away from him, as if he burns you. You don't know what to do or what to say because the truth is that you still don't fully understand how you got here.
So long without seeing him, without talking to him and now suddenly, he is here.
You take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. You take off your jacket with a mechanical gesture and drop it on your bed. Aemond takes off his as well, leaving it on the back of your chair next to your desk.
You watch him out of the corner of your eye, unsure, a little uncomfortable, and watch as he paces around your room, as if it's been a long time since he was last here.
When he suddenly focuses on the vase on your night stand next to your bed and a very small, barely visible smile appears on his lips.
“They're pretty.”
Her voice breaks the silence with an unexpected softness, too casual, trying to lighten the mood.
You follow the direction of his gaze and see the hydrangeas in the glass vase, still fresh and full of life, as if time had not touched them since the day he gave them to you.
“Thank you… by the way.”
He walks over to them, running his fingertips over the delicate petals carefully, while you stand at the foot of your bed, trying not to stare at him too much, then take a seat on the soft mattress.
Seconds pass, neither of you say anything and you don't understand what you are doing.
Then, he finally turns to you, with his soft gaze and speaks.
“You said they're your favorite, that night when we went to dinner, the hydrangeas.”
You don't say anything, you just watch him and nod slightly, you too remembering those days. But you definitely weren't prepared for what he says next.
“Your favorite color is purple. Your favorite animal is cats and wolves. Your favorite series is Stranger Things and your favorite movie is Maze Runner.”
Your breath catches for a moment and you watch him intently.
“You love the beach, watching sunsets, exploring hidden waterfalls, reading, and you love all the history of royal families, like the Tudors and the Romanovs. You want to go to Wales, to explore abandoned castles, London, Romania, Egypt and Versailles, to see Marie Antoinette's bedroom,“ he then says, stealing your breath, ‘”And you like The Weeknd, but also classical music and Taylor Swift,” he finishes.
You fall completely silent, your mind unable to process the amount of things he just said with such precision. You stare at him in surprise, feeling a lump in your throat that you can't explain.
It's not that these are secret facts about you, but you don't mention them that often either. Only once or twice. But you definitely never expected him to remember them.
You always thought Aemond wasn't someone who paid too much attention to details, at least not when it came to you. But here he is, reciting them as if they were etched into his skin. As if he knew you better than you thought he did.
He notices your expression and lets out a sigh, averting his gaze for a second before meeting you again with his clear eyes.
“I know you like the back of my hand Y/N,” he says in a soft, firm tone, ”The problem was… I didn't show that I was paying attention.”
Your heart beats painfully against your chest.
You don't know what to say, because this is a side of Aemond you've never seen before. Not the proud, cold guy who always seems unattainable, but someone genuine, someone who has actually been watching you all this time, even when you thought he hadn't.
But you can't be fooled by emotions.
Pursing your lips, you avert your gaze to your hands, feeling a pang of uncertainty prickle in your chest. You shake your head slightly, trying to rearrange your thoughts before speaking.
“I-I… I didn't let you into my room so you'd think I'd still be her replacement.”
Aemond lets out a small, low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.
You watch him instantly, completely serious, not understanding his reaction. But when he looks back at you, his expression has become more intense, more sincere.
“Haven't you understood?” he murmurs, his voice full of something you can't quite identify.
He takes a step toward you, then another, another, and another, narrowing the distance between you until he stands in front of you.
“I'm here with you because I want you,” he tells you firmly and clearly, ”I don't want her. I want you.”
The words fall on you like an unexpected blow, leaving you for a moment without air. Because even if you wanted to deny it, even if you tried to convince yourself that this was all a mistake, you can't ignore the way your heart races with his confession.
And worst of all, you know he's not lying.
He lets out a heavy exhale, running a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture.
“I was an idiot,” he says, his voice low, almost hoarse, ”I wasted too much time chasing after a girl who was never worth it. And in the process, I hurt you…because she was hurting me.”
Something in his expression hardens, as if he hates to admit it. But then his gaze softens as he settles on you again.
“And I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.”
Your chest tightens with a million emotions at once. Because you didn't expect this. You didn't expect him to say it so clearly, so bluntly, without the arrogance that has always characterized him.
But the fear is still there.
You fold your arms, trying to keep your stance firm, trying to remember all the reasons why you shouldn't give in so easily.
“I don't know if I can do this,” you mutter, in a low, vulnerable tone.
“And I don't blame you,” he says right away, ”But you want to know the truth? I got feelings,” he confesses, ”But I was letting myself be held back by her.”
Your throat closes up. You don't know what's worse, knowing that he had feelings for you or knowing that he put them aside for someone else who never reciprocated and simply wanted his attention.
And he noticing the whirlwind of emotions on your face, he moves a little closer towards you.
“And I fucked it all up,” he says almost in a lament, “But I want to fix it.”
Your breathing quickens.
You can't trust him. Not after all.
And yet…
“Y/N,” his voice calls back to you, low, raw, honest, ”I know the last thing you want is to trust me. And I don't expect things between us to go back to the way they were. I want to make things right now, with the formalities, titles and all. If you need time, I'll give it to you, no matter how much, I'll… I'll wait for you,” he promises, ”But only if you want me to.”
Silence.
Your eyes dive into his, searching for some trace of a lie, some sign that this is all just another empty promise. But all you find is sincerity. A raw, vulnerable sincerity you've never seen in him before.
This is everything you've wanted to hear from him. Everything.
To be reciprocated.
And now that he's finally telling you, you can't stop the tears from starting to form in your eyes.
You close your eyes for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. It's all too much. Too intense, too sudden. And yet, when you open your eyes and look at him again, something inside you begins to resurface.
Hope.
But not the hope of “someday,” no, but the hope that this, here and now, works. Because it's finally happening.
“Just you and me.”
You say it quietly, as if you're still testing how it feels to say it out loud, how it feels to let it out after holding it in for so long.
And Aemond nods without hesitation.
“Just you and me,” he repeats, ”Only you.”
And for the first time in a long time, you believe in him.
And when he holds out his hand to you, you take it.
His fingers intertwine with yours, warm, firm, as if he's reassuring you that this time he's not going to let go. As if he wants to show you that there is no one else, that there should never have been anyone else.
Because now, there is only you.
thank you for reading!
@almostpurplelady @fauxraven @targaryendestiel @bigsimpforremuslupin
Fuck, I am so incredibly happy to have read this.
This was like so perfect. Y/N was definitely stronger than me by completely blocking and removing him from their life. Kept their distance, and that –
Gave Aemond the time to reflect on everything, his past feelings, his feelings before the whole birthday incident, and his feelings now. He knew that actions speak louder than words could ever. He knew that he needed to show her that he did, in fact, pay attention to her. With the valentine present, he made sure to let her know and to not invade her space.
Letting Y/N choose her course of actions and when it happened, he probably knew that, this was it. Aemond knew this was his one chance to try to rekindle the connection he once shared with Y/N. By going after Y/N and letting go of his past, Cerelle.
I personally like to think that Aemond, at some point, realized that his behavior was similar to Cerelle's behavior, hoping but always getting disappointed in the end. But he finally realized his real feelings towards Y/N when he had broken their heart during their birthday, the person who had slowly taken his heart.
