I just found the earliest email I ever sent from my email address, and itâs the funniest goddamn thing I can possibly imagine a fourth grader sending her teacher:
(Context - my fourth grade teacher was on maternity leave, and the state of the classroom fish tank was dire under the substitute teacherâs tyrannical rule. The class convened at recess, and decided to inform our (24yo, new mother) former teacher of the situation. I was selected as the duly appointed representative for this solemn communication.)
You canât win as a woman in fiction. Be too positive, you become a Mary Sue, have flaws and those flaws are why almost nobody likes you. Be moderate, you have wet-cabbage personality, be exuberant, you are an unrealistic example. Have strong morals, and youâre badly developed, be morally corrupt and youâre hated with such vigour fans will send hate mail to the actress who plays the character. Be kind and soft and in love, youâre a representation of sexism, be cruel, harsh and cold and youâre just a bitch. Be a complex, realistic, ambiguous character, and either your flaws or your positive traits will be ignored or blown out of proportion and into oblivion. There is no winning for female characters.
[ warnings: fingering & oral sex, a kind of triangle, smut, the angst, description of the effects of murder, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, violence ]
[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters:Â Masterlist
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"I am unable to control her. I can see in her gaze that she despises me. She doesn't understand that the cause is bigger than her or me." He whispered, looking blankly at the cream-coloured curtain behind which people were moving, their moans and sighs loud, pathetic, foreign.
Madam hummed with understanding, combing his hair with her fingers, her thighs where his head lay warm and soft.
"She is certainly frightened and lonely. A woman, unlike a man, has few options for resistance. Like any human being, she longs for freedom, my Prince." She said calmly, as if speaking to a small child, trailing her fingertips down his bare back.
He swallowed hard, feeling that the poppy milk he had drunk just a moment ago had begun to take effect, relaxing him, the pain in his eye socket finally subsiding, allowing him to breathe.
"We all want to be free. I understand it, but I cannot be weak. I protect my family." He whispered and closed his eyes â he felt the frustration of hearing Madam open her mouth, wanting to say more.
"Enough." He commanded coolly and she fell silent, tense, her trembling hand still trailing over his naked body.
He felt tears full of shame under his eyelids at the thought that he had confided in a whore.
As usual, as he walked back from her to the Red Keep, looking under his feet, he felt embarrassment and discouragement, emptiness and fatigue.
Daemon's daughter had a charisma that apparently made Vhagar listen to her commands, so they practised on her the way she gave commands.
Looking at her from the side, he had the impression that she stood beside him with only her body â her dark eyes remained blank, her face, her words, her gaze never directed towards him.
While some people dreamed of touching or riding a dragon, of being in the very company of these mystical beasts, she seemed indifferent to it â even though Vhagar listened to her like an obedient dog, she never tried to come closer, to touch her, to establish a relationship with her, as if the fact that she had to do this was beneath her dignity.
He hated her for despising what was most precious to him.
He hated her, but he needed her.
He stepped into his chamber through one of the hidden passages of the fortress and pulled off his cloak, tossing it carelessly onto his bed. He furrowed his brow as he saw that the books that had lain on the table earlier were scattered on the ground.
Someone was in his chamber, he thought with fury.
He froze as he heard screaming and crying, growing louder and louder, the guards one by one began to run down the corridor towards the chamber of his sister and her children.
He moved there, feeling anxiety, his heart in his throat as he entered the room and saw his mother kneeling over the bed of his nephew, his headless body looking like a doll.
He fell to his knees not knowing how else he was supposed to react to what he was seeing, feeling like he couldn't catch his breath, the screams and wails of his mother pressing her face against the boy's body so loud he felt like his skull was going to burst.
He was with a whore when they did it.
With a whore.
"What happened? What's the commotion?" He heard his brother's voice as he rushed into the chamber half drunk, staggering, stopping between him and his mother.
He watched as the expression on his face changed from shock and disbelief to despair, as a drawn-out, high-pitched, inhuman whine broke from his throat, followed by a sob, honest and full of suffering.
"â Jaehaerys â" He cried, whooping with tears, trying to touch him, but their mother pushed him away, shaking her head.
"â Aegon, please, leave, don't look at it â"
"â Jaehaerys â oh, gods, my boy, my sweet, sweet, little boy â" He babbled, dropping to his knees next to him, snuggling into their mother's womb, his hands clenched on her gown, a howl coming from his mouth as if someone had slit his insides with a knife.
He could feel his knee twitching in nervous reflex under the table, the wave of thoughts running over his mind making him feel dulled, hearing as if through a fog what was happening in the Small Council room.
His nephew was dead.
They had murdered Jaehaerys because they had not found him in his chamber.
He had been with a whore instead of defending his family.
He was next in line for the throne.
His nephew was dead.
A small, sweet, polite boy.
His children could sit on the Iron Throne.
"â bring me that whore â it's her fault â she certainly helped her father â" Aegon exclaimed, hitting the table top with his fist, his face all red and swollen from tears.
"â the guards went to her quarters, Your Grace â but I don't think she â" Criston Cole didn't finish as the door to the chamber opened and she was led inside like a prisoner.
It was apparent that she had been snatched from a deep sleep, her hair in a slight disarray, a thin brown robe thrown over her nightgown.
Aegon stood up, moving at her like a wild animal, Criston Cole and their mother had to restrain him, grabbing his arms to prevent him from killing her with his own hands.
"â WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU FUCKING WHORE â WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON? â" He shouted, and she shook her head, shocked, looking at him with wide eyes, confusion in her expression.
She had no idea what had happened, he thought.
He knew she had nothing to do with it.
His spies were watching her day and night.
"â I don't understand â" She muttered.
"â the royal heir, my Lady â our king's son was bestially murdered in front of his poor mother â the boy's head was cut off â we suspect this is your father's revenge for the death of Lucerys Velaryon â" Tyland Lannister said, glancing at her uncertainly.
It was the first time he had seen her in such a state â her eyebrows arched in pain, as if this news had truly broken her, her dark eyes large and filled with sadness, her mouth parted wide in an expression of helplessness.
"â I have nothing to do with this â gods, I swear â" She mumbled, shaking her head, his brother screaming in rage.
"â LIAR! â"
"â she's telling the truth â" He said forcing himself to be calm, running his fingers across the table top.
His brother froze, looking at him suddenly, his gaze such as if he had realised something. He pulled himself out of the arms of Criston Cole and their mother, walking slowly towards him, his heart in his throat with terror.
"â and you, brother? â where were you, our protector, when they murdered my little son? â hm? â" He asked in a trembling voice, his eyes glazed over with tears.
He pressed his lips together, trying not to burst into sobs, to remain calm, unable to bear the shame that filled his heart.
"â with that fucking old whore whose tits you like to cuddle up to? â with your second mummy when they cut my boy's head off? â" He shouted in his face, and he felt a single, lonely tear run down his cheek.
"â and you, Cole? â" His brother continued, turning abruptly the other way, leaving him with his humiliating words, heavy tears full of guilt one after another running down his cheeks. "â where the fuck have you been? â"
"â in my bed, my King â"
"â IN YOUR BED? â IN YOUR BED INSTEAD OF WATCHING OVER MY WIFE AND CHILDREN! â" He wailed, barely staying on his feet, finally burying his face in his hands, their mother embraced him to calm him down.
"â get out â" He cried out finally. "â GET OUT â GET OUT â GET OUT â"
He shouted, so they all stood â as he walked out, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that she was looking at him, her dark, warm gaze full of compassion he so despised.
The next day the funeral took place, his mother and sister, led by the dead body of his nephew, moved in procession through the streets of King's Landing, showing their subjects the cruelty of the heiress to the throne.
He watched them from behind the walls, feeling an emptiness, wondering if, had he not gone out that night, he would have saved him, or if he himself would have died then.
He felt both relief that it had not been him and regret that it was his nephew who had paid the price.
"Your Highness. She is already in your chamber, as you ordered." Said one of the guards, and he merely nodded and walked back into the fortress.
When he walked into his quarters indeed, his cousin was inside and she jumped up, hearing his rapid footsteps. He passed her without a word and settled over the map, spreading his hand over it.
"There are several places where wild dragons have been seen. One of those places is the Vale." He said, placing one of the gold coins in that spot.
"I've heard of it." She whispered, her voice frustratingly soft. "The farmers complained that it devours their flocks, sheep and pigs."
He nodded his head without looking at her, taking his cup in his hand, drinking wine from the morning, heedless of how early it was.
"This is our first target. The other ones are too close to Rhaenyra. We can't risk them discovering our plan. We will fly there on Vhagar." He said, sitting down in the chair, pressing the cup to his lips, the slightly tart and sweet taste of the wine melting on his tongue.
He looked at her, hearing her silence.
The light of the sun illuminated her graceful, girlish figure, her full lips shone as brightly as her eyes, her expression unexpectedly gentle.
He was sure she would say something that would enrage him, offer him condolences, or worse, begin to pity and console him, trying to step into the role of his mother.
That she would try use what she had heard about him to manipulate him.
"More wine?" She asked.
He sighed, feeling some kind of relief, and nodded, extending his hand with the goblet to her.
She walked slowly to the table, took the silver jug from it and leaned over him, filling his cup fully; looking at her in this position, smelling her pleasant scent, he could see the soft outline of her plump breasts under her gown.
His soft length swelled and throbbed in his breeches against his will as he thought about his tongue rolling around her hard, puffy nipples.
Because of this, because of the moment of relief, because of the woman's touch, he lost his guard and led to tragedy.
"We leave tomorrow at first light."
Silence.
"I want to ask you something, cousin. And I know you won't like it." She said in a trembling voice, standing over him with the jug in her hands.
He froze in mid-motion, raising the wine cup to his lips, staring dully ahead.
"You like to take risks, don't you?" He snorted, finally taking a deep, draughty sip, feeling the alcohol slowly begin to dull his senses.
"No, but you give me no choice. I will fly with you and the will of the gods will happen, as you desire. However, the chance of me dying in flames or being devoured is just as great as the chance of me succeeding." She said uncertainly and he sighed heavily, setting his cup down on the table with a loud clink of steel.
"What do you want?"
She was silent for a long moment, standing over him, he heard her swallow hard.
"Servant. I want to choose one and take him to my bed. I don't want to die without having any idea of this sensations." She muttered with sincere, childish shame, infuriating him.
I don't want to die without having any idea of this sensations.
"Aren't you ashamed to ask something like that out loud? What self-respecting Lord will want you after this?" He asked, unable to look her in the face, for some reason feeling aroused, his erection pulsed as he imagined her beneath the young man, moaning in pleasure.
"I don't care what the lords will think of me. If I become a dragon rider, my maidenhood will be the least of their worries. I have no desire to become either a wife or a mother. I could try to hide it from you, but I stand here before you and ask your permission like a dog." She said in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat, a disturbing idea filling his head.
He thought it was certainly the fault of the amount of wine he had drunk.
The fact that he needed to vent after what had happened, the humiliation he had experienced.
"Knowing what you ask, my soul will have no peace unless I am assured that no man has taken you by force." He replied at last, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, something in his gaze evidently told her what he was thinking of, for her words left her lips without hesitation.
"I'll let you watch if it will soothe your conscience." She said, and he grinned in a way from which she swallowed hard.
"It will."
There was something absurd and unreal about how, on the day of his nephew's funeral, when everyone was in mourning, he had walked by her side in the Red Keep, letting her pick the ripest, sweetest apple.
Her cool, almost disgust-filled approach to his inheritance made him treat his original idea of marrying her with reserve, and this way he could have something on her that he could use against her in the future.
If the need arose.
She had found out something about him against his will, and now he was going to use his advantage.
She paused, looking between the cloisters at one of the young men talking to a member of the Kingsguard, with golden, beautiful curls and bright eyes, his pearly laughter spreading around them.
She blinked, glancing over her shoulder at him, as if asking his opinion, and he wondered if this was how the gossiping ladies of the court felt.
"This is Tyland Lannister's servant. His distant relative. A bastard." He explained, looking at her indifferently. He saw that she pressed her lips together, as if she was thinking hard about something.
"Can he be trusted?" She asked, and he chuckled under his breath and shook his head, sighing in disbelief.
"Will your secret be safe with him? No."
Did she really believe that the entire Red Keep wouldn't find out about what she had done?
That the ladies of the court and the lords would not call her a shameless whore?
He blinked and led her away with a glance, seeing that she had simply moved ahead. He stood and watched in disbelief as she walked up to the two men and began to speak to them.
They both laughed, glancing at him as if she had said something amusing about him and he pressed his lips into a thin line at the thought.
Cunt.
After a while, the knight left them, and she was left alone with the boy who had piqued her attention. He leaned over her as if he was interested in what she was saying, his eyes big, his mouth twitching in a smile full of disbelief.
Had she just told him what she wanted to do?
Just like that, without any forethought or embarrassment.
The man bowed to her and escorted her away with a curious look as she returned to him, throwing him a calm look full of self-satisfaction.
"He agreed. He said I am beautiful." She said.
"You're a fool." He replied coldly.
She blinked and smiled warmly in a way from which he felt discomfort.
"Come."
He didn't understand what he was doing there â didn't understand why he was looking at them from afar like a shadow, why he was watching as his hands wandered over her cheeks and neck, as his lips placed soft, butterfly kisses on her lips.
"Do it slowly," she said, and he obeyed, not caring too much about his presence, eager to please her and to experience fulfilment himself.
He saw her flinch as his hand travelled to her breasts under the thin material of her gown, her fingers tightening on his wrist.
"â no â" He heard her whisper, her eyes closed, her head thrown back as if she was trying to relax. "â not yet â"
He was ashamed that he had been hard; he was ashamed that he had had to sit in a chair with his legs crossed so it wouldn't be visible. He was ashamed that he took some sick satisfaction from what he was looking at, knowing that he would be able to use it against her.
He swallowed hard as her eyes opened suddenly, her gaze finding his face and remaining fixed on him as the boy's lips sank into her neck again and again.
She sighed as he pressed her against the bed with his body, growing more and more aroused and impatient, her fingers clenched on his tunic in some helpless gesture, her doe eyes shining from tears of discomfort.
"â slow down â" He commanded, and the man raised his head and looked at him, breathing heavily, shocked.
"â Your Highness? â"
"â slow down, I said â" He repeated, looking at her, her full lips parted slightly, in her gaze the pain and heat from which he felt his cock swell all over his breeches, the wine humming in his head, filling his body with a pleasant warmth.
He felt the satisfaction of seeing that when the boy returned to his caresses, treating her more gently, running his hands down her waist, her gaze did not leave him, fixed on him.
He was sure for some reason that she would ask him to join them.
That she didn't really want this pathetic, simple boy who barely kept his cock in his trousers at all.
"â sink your fingers between her thighs â prepare her properly â" He instructed him and saw that her eyes grew big as she swallowed hard, looking up at her lover who, in one sure movement, lifted the skirt of her gown, slipping his hand under it.
She moaned as he touched her there and closed her eyes for a brief moment, but after a while her brow arched in some kind of uncomfortable expression, her hips swung back as if she were running away from him.
He was doing it too fast, without affection, without finesse, rushing to his own fulfilment and he was not surprised, but that was not the purpose of this whole farce.
Indeed, she could have burned in the dragon's fire, and the fact that she was just about to experience what a man's peak was was hardly what she had imagined.
He wondered if he should intervene, recognising that she wanted it herself.
And then he saw his hand slide down to his breeches and he simply rose from his seat.
"â step back, boy â" He snarled, approaching them lazily.
The boy rose and moved away, shocked as was his cousin, leaning on her elbows, her dark eyes big and shining, her cheeks and lips parted in a drawn-out breath red with emotion.
She sighed as he grabbed her around the waist and moved her so that he sat behind her back, placing his legs on either side of her body, pulling her close so she could feel on her ass what she had done to him.
How fucking hard he was because of her and her idea.
His fingers ran over her neck and tilted her head so that she rested her back against his shoulder, his nose pressed against her hot, fragrant, sweaty cheek as his free hand forced her to bend her legs at the knees, lowering her skirts and smallclothes.
"â bend over and lick her â" He commanded, running his full lips over her bare skin, stroking the silky structure of the inside of her thigh with his palm, as if he wanted to reassure her and prepare her for what was about to happen.
"â what? â" She muttered quietly, tense, in some involuntary, helpless reflex reaching her hand back, clasping it softly in his hair.
The man swallowed hard, sensing already, probably subconsciously, that he would not regain control of the situation and could not hope for fulfilment.
Good, he thought.
There was no reason why he should fill her with his worthless seed or take her maidenhood.
"â easy â" He whispered in her ear, running his thumb over her jawline, her thigh quivering in his embrace. "â let me take care of this â"
He said and nodded, ordering the boy to obey his command. The man swallowed and leaned in, her hips moving backwards in a subconscious reflex, wanting to protect herself, but they met his body, pressing against his rock-hard length.
Her lips parted in shock as she moaned suddenly, apparently feeling the man's tongue deep inside her, while his hand slid from her thigh to her sticky, swollen folds, seeking her puffy bud.
"â ah â oh, gods, t-too much, too much â" She mewled, clenching her fingers tighter in his white hair, his hands from her jaw slipping out from under the fabric of her gown, sinking slowly into the soft, plump skin of her breasts.
"â you wanted it yourself â go on â" He said dryly, his last words directed at the man thrusting between her throbbing slit with his tongue.
She threw her head back with a girlish, sweet moan that he liked as the man sped up, the tips of their noses touching as his forehead pressed against hers.
"â if only you were my little sister â I'd caress you like this every night â would you like it? â" He gasped encouragingly, knowing exactly what he wanted to do to her, feeling her body squirm in his embrace in pure ecstasy.
He could take Daemon's place by her side.
To be her protector, the man in whom she would seek refuge.
She gasped as his thumb began to tease her hard nipple in an offhanded manner, the fingers of his other hand digging lazily into her leaking cunt in circular motions, securing her path to fulfilment to the accompaniment of the loud clicks of the boy's saliva between her thighs.
"â what would your father say at the sight of this â hm? â do you think he would be proud? â" He whispered, feeling that his fingers were all sticky from her wetness. She shook her head quickly, moaning at the same time, slowly losing touch with reality.
He didn't even notice when he started panting himself, rolling his hips back and forth, rubbing his manhood between her buttocks, feeling the tightness in his rocks testifying that he himself was fully aroused.
"â you like it, don't you? â I can feel you're close â come on his face â" He breathed out, and she moaned and shook her head, raising her big, tear-filled eyes at him, her face smooth and bright up close, her eyelashes long and black, as beautiful as her lips and eyebrows arched in indecision.
"â g-gods, stop â" She mumbled out, and after a moment he felt her body shake in convulsion, her lips parted wide as she cried out in pleasure, rocking her hips into the strokes of his fingers, his other hand kneading her soft breast like dough.
"â that's what I thought â just like that â easy now â" He hummed, letting his forehead last pressed against hers while she trembled all over, giving her a sense of reassurance. He watched with some kind of warmth as she panted heavily with her eyes closed, tears of shame, horror and fulfilment flowing down her red, sweaty cheeks.
"You may leave." He commanded, glancing sideways out of the corner of his eye at her pathetic lover. "If you tell anyone about this, I will cut your tongue out."
The man rose from between her thighs, all red with exertion, wiped his chin and lips and climbed off the bed, his long, hard erection clearly outlined in his trousers.
He smirked under his breath at the sight of it, concentrating on her accelerated breathing, on her hot, wet womanhood pulsing under his fingers, on her soft breast on which he simply held his hand, not moving, feeling her heart pounding hard in her chest.
He let her turn in his embrace, let her snuggle into his body, let her throw her arms around his neck, lingering with her like this, spread out comfortably on the pillow behind his back, feeling his hard manhood push against her stomach again and again.
He stroked her soft, long hair, thinking with tenderness that he now had her in his grasp.
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Author's note: I know that in my requests I don't allow requests for triangles in my stories and I never write them because I just don't like them, but when I came up with this idea here my brain was like:âŠâŠâŠ. And you have what you have. Let's just say that this is a tiny break of my rule for you, my dear readers.
Aemond stood in Viserraâs empty rooms, his brain running through every possible solution. âHow could she do this!â He thought, his sheer disbelief at the situation was the only thing keeping him from losing his temper completely; if it wasn't he might just take Vhagar to Dragonstone and murder his nephew. After all, how dare that filthy bastard lay his hands on the pure beauty that was Viserra, his sweet sister ruined just the thought made his skin boil when suddenly he knew what to do. He swiftly exited the room and made his way to his mother's chambers; he didn't care if she was busy; there was no time to request an audience. He needed this settled now.
The guards let him in without hesitation âThe Prince Aemond Targaryen.â being announced as he entered, he was greeted by both his mother the queen and his older sister Helaena as they both looked up from their busy work.Â
âAemond?â Alicent questioned with a subtle smile, pausing as she noticed his flushed cheeks and irritated demeanor; it was at that time she excused Helaena and the others in the room. She stood quickly as they exited and gently grasped his cheek âWhatever is the matter?â she asked.
He closed his eye at the sensation, it was calming for him. The brief moment allowed him to compose himself. As he opened his eye he was met with a concerned gaze, âI wish to marry Viserra.â he declared almost breathlessly his nerves seemingly getting the better of him.
Relieved, she removed her hand as she spoke âAemond..âÂ
âShe was made for me and no one elseâ he quickly interjected, âit is my duty to marry her.â he continued passionately.
She looked at him with a subtle pity and spoke with an unamused tone âWe've discussed this at length, you, Viserra and Daeron will marry for alliances.â she stopped to smile sympathetically. âI understand this may be hard for you but it is the way of things.â
Barely managing to contain his ire he blurts âShe wishes to marry our nephew!â causing Alicent to step back in surprise at the sudden outburst.
Rubbing the bridge of her nose she spoke âa union the king has favored since his beloved Rheanyra suggested it.â This conversation was giving her a headache, âmust we go over this every time.â she thought.
âA union you frown upon, mother.â he spoke quickly âA union we all frown upon!â he shouted
âAll but Viserra, you mean.â she interjected her hand rubbing over her forehead, She was growing tired of this conversation. âUntil a proper suitor can be found she will not marry.â she finished turning away as if the conversation had concluded.
âViserra has been sending Ravens to Dragonstone!â he blurted out almost desperately, he needed her to listen to him. She had to listen to him.
Turning to face him once more âThey are but harmless letters, Aemond, let her write if she must.â she snapped frustratedly, feeling as thought this conversation had gone on long enough.
Desperate to continue he blurted out âThey've been meeting secretly!â even if he was unsure of the truth he knew this would make her listen to him. He needed to protect his sweet sister at whatever the cost.
She halted, stunned âSecretly?â she stammered before collecting herself and asked âyou learned this how?â dreading what he might say next.
âShe told me.â he spoke tentatively âshe means to force your hand.â he ended with a confident tone as he knew this to be true.Â
âI do not see how she could.â she muttered the worry slowly rising in her voice. The fears ran through her head as she tried to imagine what her sweet daughter could be plotting, making her dizzy.
âShe bedded himâ he said flatly, as they shared a silent look, Alicent's face falling, her skin growing pale as she gave a look as to ask âwhen?â âtwo moons ago.â he answered, recalling the news made him feel sick if he was not so focused on the task at hand it might have actually turned his stomach.
He was hesitant with his next words as it was clear he had said enough to get the results he desperately wanted. âShe believes she is with child, his child.â His words were enough to cause his poor mother to faint as she quickly took her seat.
Alicent was silent with disbelief, her youngest daughter was with child. âhow could this happen?â she thought âShe told you this?â she gasped feeling sick herself as a wave of dissociation washed over her.
âJust before I came to you.â he divulged, taking a step closer to his mother in an almost caring manner as she tried to steady her nerves.
she inquired âYou wish to marry her?â she paused, rubbing her hand over her mouth âeven now?â she concludedÂ
âI do.'' he confirmed with a candid tone, he stood unmoving all except the corners of his lips which turned into an almost undetectable grin, he knew his plan had worked that his mother would marry them to each other. She had to; it was her only choice.
âThen a marriage you shall have.'' She spoke shakily, unsure of her decision but determined to not be undermined by Viserra; the young princess wouldn't be getting her way if Alicent had any say in the matter.
It was late that evening, after most had gone to bed that a knock came at Viserraâs door puzzled at the unannounced visitor she answered, only to see her mother holding a peculiar looking bottle and a look of subtle disappointment one that Viserra had never received herself but had see used towards her siblings numerous times. Before Viserra could question the nature of this visit she was led away from the door as it closed, her mother holding up the strange bottle and spoke âDrink this.â
Confused by the sudden demand she went to speak but was swiftly Interrupted âDrink the tea.â Alicent paused holding the bottle out to Viserra, âDrink it now.â she implored.
Viserra stared at the bottle, her face twisting in confusion as she wondered âWhat kind of tea?â her eyes darting between her mother and the bottle as it was gently urged closer.
Alicent stood still as she watched her sweet daughter, the confused look growing on Viserraâs face as she struggled to understand the situation, so the Queen muttered âIt is a tea that will resolve any unwanted consequences.â
Viserra, finally finding her words, simply stated âI do not understand.â with a confused tone.
Frustrated, Alicent snapped âDo not act a fool!â pausing to compose herself she continued âAemond told me everything.â
Viserra, growing worried, stayed silent, but in her head she was thinking what everything could be. her thumb drifting up to her mouth as she started to chew on her nails, a nervous habit the young princess was prone to.
Irritated with her silence Alicent spoke flatly âI know how you bedded the bastard boy.â her expression twisting with anger.Â
Viserra hesitated, her anxieties growing âMother i-â she started to speak but was interrupted.
âViserra I do not care for your words, just drink the tea.â Alicent spoke her authoritative voice laced with a subtle beg, her temper was reaching its limits.
She held the tea out to Viserra one last time with hopes she would simply drink it.Â
Viserra instead took a step back, her eyes widening at the realization, her hands flying to her stomach holding it tightly. She had heard of this tea before it was Moon Tea, âNo.â she spoke with a shakiness to her voice, her head starting to shake slightly âI will not murder my child!â her smile growing slightly âMine and Jacaerysâ.â
In a flash Alicent's demeanor changed from Irritated to enraged as she slammed the tea down on the table next to her, almost shattering it. âYou imbecile!â she barked loudly, âDid you honestly believe this little plot of yours would work?â Her words echoing around the room, causing Viserra to step back once again this time in fear. âIf it is a marriage you want then a marriage you shall have, but not to Jacaerys Valeryon!â she finished, her voice dropping to a snarl as she reached her limit. Alicent grabbed the tea once more and rushed her grabbing onto her jaw and forcing it open as she poured the vile mixture down her throat. Viserra fought to escape her mother's grasp but it was no use as Alicent dropped the now empty bottle causing it to shatter, so she could use both hands to force Viserraâs mouth and nose closed so she would be forced to swallow.Â
Once the tea was consumed Alicent started to comfort her daughter, rubbing her hair softly as she kissed the side of her head. âNow, that wasn't so bad was it?â She cooed as she escorted Viserra to her bed âNow rest my sweet girl.â she spoke as she kissed her once more before leaving the room.
Once the door had shut Viserra sat up forcing her fingers down her throat causing her to gag deeply and up came the tea with a sickening gurgle onto the floor beside her bed.
The room was filled with the sound of Viserraâs sobs and she laid in bed clutching her stomach. She had hoped throwing up the tea would stave off any of its effects but she knew she was wrong when a horrid stomach ache came over her mere moments after. She sobbed harder thinking that this was it her sweet babe only a few moons along was gone. It wasn't that much later when knocking could be heard at her door, Viserra ignored them she wanted to be left to her sorrows but the door opened anyways. She didn't dare to look up in fear it was her mother again instead she simply listened through her sobs, the soft clack of footsteps on the stone could be heard coming to a stop at her bedside. She felt the bed sag under the person's weight as they sat down next to her, she felt a hand gently grasp her shoulder.Â
âViserraâŠâ Aemond spoke gently, âHow are you feeling?â He asked his tone laced with concern as he started to rub circles into her shoulder.Â
she laid with her back towards him unmoving, as he was the last person she wanted to see. After a few moments he spoke again âYou're angry with me now but that will pass once you realize what I've done for you.â His hand still gently rubbing her shoulder. âWhat I've done for us.âÂ
She lifted herself up sharply âWhat you've done for me?â She gasped with tear filled eyes. âBecause of you my child might be dying inside me!â grabbing ahold of her stomach as the ache radiated through her body.
Frustrated, he says âI'm sorry about your babe but once we are married we can have plenty of others.â a smile crept onto his face at the mere thought.
âI don't want others!â she screams through sobs âI want mine and Jacaerysâ!â her face twisting with ire âYou're just jealous because it's not yours!â she spat her tone laced with pain, her eyes filled with an emotion Aemond had never seen before.
âIt's supposed to be mine!â he shouts his temper erupting âYou're supposed to be mine.â he says as he grabs onto her arms squeezing them âTo be my wife! To bare my children, not his!â the look in his eye growing wilder by the minute.Â
She was stunned, taking a second to choose her words carefully she cries out âDid you honestly believe I would forgive you so easily?, that I would simply fall into your arms!â
âI thought you would-â his grip loosened as he started to speak.Â
âThat I would love you now that Jacaerys is no longer an option?â She interrupted, ripping her arms away, âYou claim to love me and yet you told mother!â chuckling softly through her tears.
âI was protecting you!â he shouted, his face twisting in anger, a subtle disbelief laced within his tone âhow could she not see itâ he thought âI saved her!â
âFrom what?!â she says âA happy life with the boy I love!â she snapped bitterly
âA life with a bastard.â he said flatly
âI do not care if he is a Velaryon or a Strong!â âI do not care if he's a bastard, I will continue to love him even while married to you.âÂ
With her final words Aemond stood and walked out of the room. Over the next seven days the Queen and staff were busy with wedding preparations, it wasn't until the third day that the bride to be was seen out of her rooms as the bruises on her jaw had faded and her stomach ache gone leaving in its wake flutters of movement from the babe. Viserraâs child was alive and strong.
[WARNING: dark romance, obsession, yandere behavior, kissing, possessive, misspellings?
[synopsis: You are an artist and he is a sailor. He found a new adventure within you, becoming utterly obsessed and devoted to you.
[note l it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!
Part of the Dragonblood: Southside Series
song inspiration: The Hills by The Weeknd
The bustling city of Chicago was a world away from the serene coastal towns often romanticized in stories. Its skyline was a jagged silhouette against the horizon, and the waves of Lake Michigan crashed against the shore with relentless force. Amidst the city's chaos, your life as an artist thrived. Your small studio, tucked away in a corner of Wicker Park, was a sanctuary of creativity, filled with canvases depicting the urban landscape's raw beauty.
You first met Aemond Targaryen at a gallery opening downtown. The event was a significant one for you, as you were showcasing your latest series of paintings. The gallery buzzed with conversations, the clinking of glasses, and the murmured appreciation of art enthusiasts.
He stood out even in the eclectic crowd, his tall, lean frame and striking silver hair catching the light. His intense blue eye seemed to pierce through the air, while his eyepatch added a layer of mystery and danger. He was a sailor, or so he claimed, drawn to the city's shores by the call of adventure and the need to escape his past.
You were talking to a potential buyer when you felt his gaze on you. It was a sensation like no other, as if someone had reached into your very soul and grasped it tightly. You turned, and your eyes locked with his. The intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. He made his way towards you with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.
"Your work is mesmerizing," he said, his voice deep and smooth, sending shivers down your spine. "It captures the chaos and beauty of this city perfectly."
"Thank you," you replied, trying to maintain your composure. There was something about him that intrigued you, a magnetic pull that you couldn't ignore.
As the weeks went by, Aemond became a fixture in your life. He would visit your studio, watching you paint with an intensity that made you both nervous and excited. His presence was overwhelming, like the pressure of a storm building on the horizon. He was always there, his eyes following your every move, his touch lingering a little too long.
On a gloomy day, as you were finishing a painting, he stood close behind you, his breath warm against your neck. "I can't stop thinking about you," he confessed, his voice a mix of desire and obsession.
"You're all I see, all I want."
His words sent a thrill of fear and excitement through you. You knew there was a darkness to him, a possessiveness that bordered on dangerous, but you couldn't deny the pull you felt toward him.
"You don't even know me," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You began to think how in the hell he got into your studio, then you remembered that you always left the door open.
"I know enough," he replied pulling you out of your thoughts as his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. "I know that you're mine."
Aemond's obsession grew with each passing day. He would call you multiple times, wanting to know where you were, who you were with, and what you were doing. His jealousy was fierce, and his temper even fiercer. Yet, there was a part of you that found his possessiveness intoxicating.
You knew it was wrong, but the intensity of his desire made you feel wanted in a way you had never experienced before. His touch was both gentle and commanding, his kisses both tender and demanding.
The next evening, after a particularly grueling day, you found yourself alone with him in your studio. The city lights filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. Aemond stood close, his gaze fixed on you as he spoke in a low, commanding tone.
"I can't stand the thought of you with anyone else," he said, his voice a growl.
"You belong to me."
Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his hand cupping your face as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was demanding, almost desperate, as if he were trying to claim you as his own. You responded with equal fervor, your body arching into him, craving his touch.
He pulled you closer, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive hunger. Your breath hitched as he pressed you against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. There was an intensity to his touch, a darkness that both thrilled and terrified you.
"You're mine," he whispered against your skin, his voice a growl. "No one else can have you."
His words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of his obsession settling over you like a heavy cloak. You knew this was more than just desire; it was a need, a compulsion that drove him to the edge. As the night wore on, you found yourself lost in his embrace, the world outside your studio fading away.
Aemond's touch was everywhere, his lips, his hands, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that left you breathless.
In the quiet moments between the waves of passion, you saw glimpses of the man beneath the obsession. There was a vulnerability to him, a depth of emotion that drew you in even further. You realized that, despite the darkness, there was a connection between you that couldn't be denied.
As dawn broke over the city, you lay tangled in Aemond's arms, your bodies entwined in a sensual embrace. The intensity of the night lingered in the air, a promise of more to come. You knew that being with Aemond was like riding a storm-dangerous and unpredictableâbut you were willing to take the risk.
For better or worse, you were his, and he was yours. And in the heart of the city, amidst the chaos and noise, you found a love that was as dark and consuming as the urban tides.
Days turned into weeks, and the intensity of your relationship with Aemond only grew. His obsession with you became more apparent. He would show up at your studio unannounced, his presence both a comfort and a reminder of the dark edge to his affection.
"You've been painting a lot of male figures lately," he remarked one afternoon, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
"They're just studies," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
"Nothing more."
"I don't like it," he said bluntly. "I don't like other men looking at you, even in your art."
You felt a pang of frustration. "Aemond, you can't control what I paint."
He moved closer, his gaze unwavering.
"I can, and I will. You belong to me, and I won't share you with anyone."
His words were a declaration, a vow that sent a shiver down your spine. You knew his possessiveness was unhealthy, but the intensity of his love made you feel alive in a way nothing else could.
The tipping point came one night when you decided to attend an art show alone. Aemond had been away on a trip, and you needed the space to clear your mind. The event was a chance to network and showcase your work, but it was also a temporary escape from his overwhelming presence.
The evening was going well until you felt a familiar gaze burning into your back. You turned to see Aemond standing in the doorway, his expression a storm of emotions. He crossed the room in long strides, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming here?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
"I needed some space," you replied, trying to keep your voice calm. "It's just an art show."
"It's never 'just' anything with you," he said, his hand gripping your arm. "You think you can hide from me? You think you can escape?"
His words were a mixture of accusation and desperation, his grip on your arm tightening. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a tense standoff.
"I'm not trying to escape," you said, your voice shaking. "I just needed some time alone."
"You don't get to decide that," he said, pulling you closer. "You're mine, and you'll always be mine."
That night, back at your apartment, the tension between you reached a boiling point. The argument was fierce, emotions running high as you both tried to assert control over a relationship that had become a battleground.
"I can't live like this," you said, tears streaming down your face. "I can't be with someone who tries to control every aspect of my life."
Aemond's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his hardened exterior.
"I don't want to lose you," he said quietly. "I can't lose you."
"Then you need to trust me," you replied, your voice trembling. "You need to let me have my own life, my own space."
He looked at you for a long moment, the intensity of his gaze softening. "I don't know if I can do that," he admitted.
"Then we'll never work," you said, feeling a pang of sorrow. "Love isn't about possession, Aemond. It's about trust and respect."
For a moment, it seemed like he might relent, like he might understand. But then his expression hardened again, and you knew that the darkness within him was too strong to overcome.
Despite the arguments and the possessiveness, you couldnât deny the pull you felt toward Aemond. There was a part of you that craved his intensity, his dark, obsessive love. It was a dangerous dance, but one that you couldnât seem to step away from.
One night, as you lay in his arms, you felt a sense of acceptance wash over you. This was your life now, for better or worse. Aemondâs love was fierce and consuming, and you knew that it would never change.
âDo you ever think about the future?â you asked softly, your head resting on his chest.
He was silent for a moment, his hand gently stroking your hair. âI think about you,â he said finally. âYouâre my future.â
The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mixture of fear and desire. You knew that being with Aemond was like riding a stormâdangerous and unpredictableâbut you were willing to take the risk.
For better or worse, you were his, and he was yours. And in the heart of the city, amidst the chaos and noise, you found a love that was as dark and consuming as the urban tides.
[a/n: I didnât want to make every fic of mine with smut so here is one that is more on the less detailed sensual and intimate side
I love your writing!! Could you do a short 1 or 2 part fiction based on this prompt: a highborn girl is to become Aemond's wife but she is a mute. Her other senses are well even though she isn't able to speak. She is youngest in her family and is extremely shy. No fiery bone in her body. Alicent coaxes her son into being betrothed to her due to Alicent having issues with high-born ladies not wanting to marry the prince due to his eye missing and his tendency to have a temper. They bond over reading and Aemond is enthralled with her beauty. Also Aemond never is a kinslayer in this story lol. Thank you!
Her Voice
Summary: You are introduced with the prince as his second option for a marriage in your family. But how will the Prince react to you own affliction | Mini-Series Masterlist
Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist
A/N: I changed the request up a little and it's strange that I got this ask because I do actually have a stutter myself that was debilitating growing up, so I tried to shoehorn some feelings that I felt myself into this character, but hopefully I still did it justice (and I made it more about her intelligence cos I think Aemond would find that hot)?
Thank you for the request anon! Also thank you all for your love and comments I really love them! I canât comment on them since this is a side-blog, but I appreciate you all!Â
Warnings: none, just fluff, Aegon being Aegon
"Do you think that any highborn woman with a brain between her eyes would desire to spend the rest of her life with a tempestuous prince?"
Alicent was circling the room, hands smoothing over one another to keep herself calm, doing this in exchange of picking at her fingernails, which her father hated. And with Otto sat brooding in the corner of the room, Alicent chose her actions wisely.
Aemond barely resisted the urge to roll his eye, one hand rested on one side of his face, disinterested. Another reprimand for his temper, his behaviour. He didn't realise his mother had it in her to keep on doing this for so long, especially after having a son like Aegon. But even then, her solution had been to marry him to his sister, and it was clear how well that ended. And how Aegon's actions persisted.
"Perhaps if they were not so empty-headed they would know to leave me be"
"Like it or not, you will be wed" Otto butted in, resulting in Aemond sending an annoyed glare, "It has been difficult enough to introduce ladies to you"
"Because they think me a monster" Aemond retorted, one hand gripping the arm of the chair beside him. His mother was still pacing around, a million thoughts banging around in her brain, working endlessly on how to resolve this. In truth, he did not enjoy seeing his mother in such distress and his heart to see her in this way more often than not.
"That is not true, Aemond" Alicent's voice was soft, as if he were still a child.
"True enough that it whispers through the court"
"A marriage and children with her would mean security in the Reach" Otto said simply. His mind forever focussed on matters political and never of the heart. Alicent was proof of this and at this quip, Aemond could see the discomfort it bought her.
"I do not wish to marry that loud-mouthed half-wit"
Every time Aemond protested, he could see his mother begin pacing around the room once more.
"At this rate, half the ladies in Westeros will have met that beast before you"
Aemond extended a hand out with a sigh, "It is no fault of mine that she is scared of Vhagar"
"It nearly landed on top of her, Aemond!" Alicent begged out and Aemond genuinely had to hold back a smile as he imagined Vhagar pinning the girls dress to the ground with her large claw. It had scared the girl stiff and her loud-mouthed was quickly stiffened from the presence of the largest dragon in the world before her. Her face pale as a sheet.
"Vhagar did not like her" he simply responded.
A moment passed in silence and Aemond nearly stood to leave when Alicent crossed her arms, her warm, brown eyes trained at her second son. Half in pride and half in scolding.
"There is of course, another choice" Alicent suggested quietly, taking a side glance at her father.
Now stood before his mother, seeing over her easily, he placed his arms behind his back, a brow was arched in not only question but anxiety at her suggestion.
"She has a younger sister, only half a year younger than you"
Aemond scoffed, "This is desperation"
"It is a suggestion" Alicent corrected. In front of her son, she seemed so small as she took his large hand in both of hers, her rings clicking together to rub her fingers over his skin, "See how you feel"
With a sigh, he took his leave.
There was no harm in trying.
The days seemed to pass the slowest and the Prince busied himself as he usually did, performing his duties. He trained with Ser Criston, he read books on various subjects and he rode on Vhagar in an attempt to tame this temper his mother so wanted gone. One that she thought would be solved by marriage.
But one insufferable thing he could never escape from, was court gossip.
It seemed so rampant and neverending that he wondered if the ladies ever did anything else.
On more than one occasion he heard the ladies talk in hushed whispers when he walked by.
"I heard his dragon almost ate her"
"I do not see what woman would want a man who looks like that"
"I think he looks rather handsome with it"
"Yes, but he has a quarrelsome temper. Blood of the dragon indeed"
"I heard her little sister is to join the court. His dragon may actually swallow her whole with any luck"
"She is a hollow little fool. I heard she has not spoken a word since she was a babe"
He knew better than to listen to any of it. But it seemed to impregnate the walls of the Keep, like a smell that won't go away. Slowly seeping out of the stone to skulk in heavy plunders of smoke across their feet. It smelled of deception and the feeling was so heavy, it was almost liquid.
Like oily blood.
He had barely paid attention to his mother as they all lined up outside the Keep, anticipating the sister's arrival. The older sister had been closest to the dirt road, wanting to see her siblings and father before anyone else. The Royals were all standing shoulder to shoulder at the top of the stone steps, Aemond's eye trained forwards, not focussed on anything in particular. Aegon wishing he were somewhere else, preferably at the end of a barrel of Dornish wine. And Helaena, whose gaze never found anyone's, staring at the ground, watching the ants disappear beneath her slipper.
Alicent almost jumped out of her skin as the lady screamed in delight seeing the familiar colours of her house on the side of the carriage, pulling up to a stop. Aemond's chest inflated and he tightened his grip behind his back, bracing for the undoubtedly emotionally painful exchange he was about to have.
The carriage door flung open and two brothers emerged, clearly a lot older than the sister had been, but nonetheless they scooped her up into a hug. Aemond raised an eyebrow and dared look over at his own brother, who was smiling back at him already, as if suggesting they should hug like that. And at this Aemond did roll his eye.
The three siblings were stuck like this for a moment, talking over and amongst each other like a clutter of turkeys and it was impossible to tell what they were actually saying. The father eventually found his footing outside the carriage, a small figure following small behind him, head lowered. The older sister wrapped her arms around her father's neck but she was quickly pushed away, and not a single one of them seemed to address the youngest, who blindly followed her father.
"Queen Alicent" the father addressed, taking her hand in his to kiss at the ring.
"My Lord, how nice it is to see you and yourâŠfamily again" she swallowed her words and her roundabout manner made Aegon smile somewhat.
"And you, your Grace. I hope my daughter has been a grateful guest"
There was a faint echo in the background of her horrific laugh, the father closed his eyes slowly, bracing himself for the sound of it.
Alicent merely smiled, "I understand we are to receive your other daughter"
The father stepped aside, but the figure still remained relatively hidden, "Yes, although she is the slowest of my daughters, your Grace. SheâŠfinds it difficult to speak"
The father looked behind him again and gripped his other daughter's arm and Aemond noted how hard he held her, so much so that when he tore away the marks remained. And he wondered if he was so rough with his other daughter, the one he thought was the grace of his house.
The girl was presented before Alicent. Yes she shared features with her sister, but hers were much were smoothed out. Her sister, while sharp featured and cheeks plump, her eyes were too close together and her nose seemed unfit for her face. This sister however, her cheekbones were higher and eyes were almond-shaped and she had a faint mole next to her eye on one side.
Her eyes briefly met Alicent's and sent a small smile and a curtsy, doing the same to the Princes and Princess, but never really meeting any of their gazes directly.
"Your Grace, my youngest"
Aemond almost scoffed, he didn't even have the decency to address her by her birth name.
"As I say, your Grace, she is quite slow but her mind is nimble, her other senses remainâŠunaffected"
All the young woman could do was listen to her father's cruel words about her, her hands were clasped in front of her, one finger fiddling with a golden ring that was on a forefinger. Aemond's gaze raked over her form, the dress she wore just being a bit too tight and he wondered if it might have been in her ownership for a while and had grown too big for it. This made her chest swell against the fabric and her could not help but admire the way she fit into it as she inhaled and exhaled, the golden necklace against her chest moving as well.
It was as if she could feel his burning eye on her and her hand raised to her necklace to turn the pendant over, her gaze briefly meeting the one-eyed Prince's before her cheeks became flushed and averted instantly. In a strange turn of events, it made Aemond smirk, knowing that someone would blush in his presence.
"If you'd like to follow me, I can introduce you to the King" Alicent stepped side to side with her father, "Perhaps your children might amuse themselves"
Her father turned to face his children, a haggard expression on his face, "Make yourselves scarce"
The young woman merely watched as her siblings waltzed away without her, no doubt to drown themselves in drink. And she stood for a moment watching them enjoy themselves before feeling a hand grasp her elbow to find Aegon's face close to hers. She made a surprised sound.
"Extraordinary" he murmured, pulling the poor thing to walk with him, "How much I would give to have a woman who did not speak back"
She attempts to push herself away, but he was much stronger.
"I bet that mouth is as disgusting as those whores on the Street of Silk"
A hand clamped at Aegon's shoulder, shoving him away and the woman looked back to find Aemond parting the two with his body, a hand brushing against her arm to place her behind him.
"Brother, I do not think she desires your company"
With a focussed eye zoned in on his brother, Aemond failed to notice that she had himself wrapped his hand around her wrist. A wave of heat rose to her face s she looked down and saw how his large fingers easily took her, feeling the sheer body heat of the Prince next to her, so much so that she was able to smell the various musks that had attached themselves to him. A faint smell of leather from his clothes, whatever he used for his long, illustrious hair and then something akin to being around an animal. Was this what dragon smelled like? She wondered if he had been riding before meeting her family.
His touch was easily softer than Aegon's grip had been, and for this she was grateful. He had been the first man to lay a hand on her that had not been forceful. The brothers continued to bicker.
"She is not deaf, Aegon. She can hear you"
"Deaf or not, she is a simpleton. If you are to marry her, do yourself a favour and find comfort in others, as I do"
All the blood seemed to rush to your ears in embarrassment and you tore your wrist away from the prince, turning swiftly on your heel in the other direction, away from the harsh words you had unfortunately become accustomed to. Your steps were swift as you heard Aegon cackle with laughter, but you did not see Aemond's saddened stare bore into your back.
With a book clutched longingly to your chest and the echoes of your already drunken siblings echoing down the halls, you pushed a hand to the library door, finding comfort in the quiet of this room in the chaos that was the Red Keep.
It had of course, not been your first time here. You had accompanied your sister on her journey many moons ago, and even then you felt the stares of those at the court boring into you like a flame. The hushed whispers of those were not lost on you, perhaps they also thought you were deaf. But it didnât matter. You heard the horrible things the ladies said about you and equally, the awful things the men said as well. Although some of those had been about other matters.
Contrary to popular belief, you were not entirely mute. A lot of it was purely by choice. And you had become accustomed to the silence, for simply trying to speak, becoming out of breath and tight about the chest, gave you more anxiety than simply saying nothing at all.
You sighed in relief, finding the library completely empty and almost just how you had left it all those months ago, when you had come here for relief after your sister had accustomed herself to the ladies.
The book, which you had been in the middle of reading last time you were here, was still perched on top of the fireplace in the heart of the room, with a piece of paper sticking out in the spot where you had been rudely torn away. Your hand grazed over the cover, feeling all the intricacies of the people who may have read it before you. The spine was slightly worn away, and the fabric that coated the front page was discoloured. But it was the book smell that enticed you so and you opened where you were to bring to the pages to your face.
It smelled like home. Like a solitary childhood.
It reminded you of who you were.
Someone so disenchanted with life that they would lose themselves in books, fiction or not.
You lifted your skirts, inhaling sharply as the corseted part of the gown dug into you for being too small. Your father refused the request for new dresses, so you had to make do. After all, it was your older sister who was supposed to be enamouring the Prince, not you. So what need was there for fine dresses.
The chair hugged you, its fabric arms tucking you in like a bed and you laid the book before you to pick up where you had left off, the only sound in the room being the flickering of some candles and the uncomfortable sound of your finger tracing the next page.
You had been so interested in your book, the large oak doors opened without a reaction from you.
"I know you are not deaf, my Lady"
The voice startled you, and your head popped round the back of the chair to see the Prince standing closely, smirking and arms tucked behind him. A surprised sound left you as you stood, the book that had been placed on your lap hurtling to the floor as well as a small notebook you had been clutching. Your cursed yourself for the clumsiness but offered him a curtsy all the same before bending to retrieve the books.
He seemed to move too quickly for his stature and had his hand flat on the book before you had even reached out. Turning it over he smiled, bringing the book with him stand,
"Ah, so it was you"
You grasped the small notebook in your hand and stood to meet his gaze, eyes slightly wide with fear. As if he had caught you in his grasp.
He let out a small laugh, which seemed uncharacteristic for him, "Do not worry. I merely found it"
He placed the book down on the table and looked back at her. Even though he had one eye, it seemed to rake over her for an eternity before returning to her face.
"Are you afraid, my Lady?" he asked, still smirking.
Realising that she had been gawking, gripping onto her notebook, she shook her head. He seemed satisfied with the answer, only offering a 'Hm' in response as he began pacing the space around her.
"I may have limited vision, but I can see you are not afraid of me"
His back was facing you now, and with his eye not trained on you, you took the opportunity to study him and his form for a moment.
He was tall and his long silver hair trailed over his back, thick and straight. He certainly had that air of intimidation behind him and seemed to dress as such to scare people. In thick black leather with clasps, he almost looked imprisoned in his own clothes, straining against them. All this study of his form made you look down at yourself, wondering what he thought of you. The small woman without a voice, dressed in the clothes she was made several years ago.
"Your sister says I have a temper" he started, turning slowly to meet your gaze. He studied the way the candles flickered washes of amber and yellowish hues onto the side of your face, bringing the flush of your face out even more. How the flames bounced off the colour of your eyes. He wondered; how could someone be so expressive with simply their gaze.
He could not explain it, but you seemed content in the silence between you.
Slowly, as if movement would trigger the man, you opened the small notebook you carried with you, using the strip of charcoal to scribble something down. Aemond smirked seeing how concentrated you looked staring at the pages, how the line in between your eyebrows popped out slightly as you wrote.
You passed him the notebook, pointing at the page. He handled the book with such care that is astonished you, the way his fingers grasped it, there was a sensitivity to it. You swallowed your breath as his eye ran over the page all too slowly.
I do not know you well, but I have seen no temper.
Without moving an inch, his eye met you again and for a moment you worried you had said something wrong. But he softly handed the notebook back to you, watching your every move.
"Is this how you communicate?" he asked genuinely.
You nodded, as if embarrassed. Thinking of something to write down, you quickly flipped to a new page.
He accepted the notebook again once you had done, looking significantly more nervous this time, the charcoal rubbing black on your fingers.
I hope that the suggestion of our marriage does not embarrass you. If it is to be, I will be an amenable wife.
Aemond read the words on the page a few times, each time saddening him more so than the last. He saw how you fumbled with the charcoal, eyes averted, afraid of his reaction. He sighed so quietly that you did not hear it and only looked up once again when he handed the notebook back to you.
The words seemed to sincere, it bought a pain to his heart to see you think such things.
"Do not reduce yourself to such a thing" he said. But you did not look up.
There was a pregnant pause between you both as he regarded you.
"You are not entirely mute, are you"
You shook your head at his question, he winced at the painful look on your face. Immediately scribbling something down, faster this time.
It is sometimes better not to say anything at all.
Aemond nodded at this, "It is good advice, perhaps it can be bestowed on some within the court"
At this genuinely unexpected quip, you looked up at him letting a laugh escape you, hand immediately coming to your face to hide the smile that bubbled there.
It surprised you how quickly his eyes lit up upon hearing your voice. You could not help but look at him as he smiled before you, your cheeks firing up with embarrassment and you cleared your throat almost immediately, trying to dispel the air.
"You have a lovely voice" he said. It was here that you realised you were still smiling, eyes on his face, trying to find any signs of deception. For a second, you opened your mouth, tempted to say something. But the confidence quickly died as a block constricted your throat and the breath was expelled, but you nodded anyway, in thanks.
Do you read?
He nodded, gesturing to the book you had been reading, now reserved to the side table, all but forgotten.
"I do. I come here often" he said quietly, pacing about again.
You could no longer hide the way you looked at him. Your sister had said he was quick to rise and that she had been scared stiff at the interactions with him, that he had given her no notion of acceptance or equality. She spoke like he thought he was above everyone else.
But this was not the person you saw before you. Before you was some so soft spoken, you could barely hear him most of the time. Someone who enjoyed the serenity of a quiet library with the only sound being the flickering of the candles and the rain hitting the stone walls outside. You envisioned him being the only one to people-watch at parties, not amusing himself with the prospect of dancing. And perhaps not entertaining the thought of speaking to a woman directly.
"I come here when people like your sister remark on my tempestuous nature. Solitude is the only remedy for it" he paused looking over at you, "I imagine it is the same for you"
You scribbled something down, meeting his gaze when you handed it over.
Perhaps it is just that we are misunderstood. Solitude offers comfort.
A smile tugged at his lips once more and he thought that this is the most he had smiled in a long time.
"And books, it seems"
You nod genuinely, your eyes lighting up with an idea. Placing the notebook to one side, you rush past the Prince, giving him an opportune moment to feel the fabric of your skirts pass his thigh and the whips of your hair drag across the leather of his arm, releasing their scent. And with his eyes closed, he relished in these perfumes.
He allowed himself to think about what it would be like to live in that scent. To have it around him.
You placed a book in his hand, looking up at him excitedly. His long fingers grazed over the cover, admiring the gold leaf applied to it.
"Is this your favourite?" he asked, noting how close you remained after placing the book in his hand, though this you had not realised yet. You nodded, smiling as he opened the cover page to inspect the contents. A book he had not read.
He squinted at the pages, confused and looked back at you, barely needing to move his head since he was so tall.
"You can read this?" he asked. Ever humble, you shrugged your shoulders, "This is Valyrian" he sounded almost as if he did not believe you.
But you had read enough books for a lifetime already and you intended to prove to the Prince that what you were implying was truth.
Taking a deep breath, you lean forward and point to a word in Valyrian, inspecting the swirling text upside down. It had been a page right in the middle, telling the history of Aegon the Conqueror's mission to the Riverlands. Â
"âŠi-istanâŠhaeâŠ" you took another breath, not meeting the Prince's eye, nervous that if you did all confidence would surely die, "âŠdarysâŠ"
"âŠdÄrys" Aemond softly corrected. You could not help but look up at him now, the eye that had been filled with mischief and confidence, now had something else there. You licked your lips and motioned for him to repeat what he has said so you might copy, "dÄrysâŠ"
"âŠdÄrysâŠh-heâŠ.heâŠ" you struggled on the 'h' sounds of the next words, so paused to gather your breath and push past the newly developing blocks. But the Prince waited patiently, more enamoured at the fact that you were attempting to speak before him and that this was possibly the most you had said to anyone in months, perhaps years.
The mere sound of your own voice surprised you, but concentrated on finishing the sentence, you licked your lips once again in concentration. Aemond almost laughed as the line between your eyebrows returned, "âŠhen ryâŠvest, vesterosâŠo-oâŠ" you sighed at yourself, frustrated. The words beginning with vowels were always the hardest.
"âŠondosoâŠ" you managed, pushing past the breath quickly and it was the loudest word you spoke in the whole sentence. It felt clumsy and wrong, but if you had looked ahead, you would have seen the hooded look of Aemond looking down at you, mouthing along with you in silent appreciation.
"âŠrhaenysâŠ" you finished, looking up at the prince. He closed the book and repeated the word back at you but with the trilled 'r' that was difficult for many to pronounce. You smiled, fiddling with your hair, only now realising how close you were to him so you were able to read the book.
You stepped back, suddenly feeling embarrassed and hot. As if you'd been caught doing something you shouldnât.
"Very good" he said. The smile on your face was difficult to keep at bay and he placed the book to one side, "It is not an easy language to learn. From books?" he asked, to which you nodded.
You were grateful he did not mention anything about your slowness, about the stumbling over the words. He simply complimented your ability to even read and speak any Valyrian and that was all you wanted from him.
You scribbled down.
Perhaps you could teach me how to pronounce it properly.
"I would enjoy that, my Lady" he stepped forward to give you the notebook back, only to keep a hold on it when you tried to take it. His other hand laid on top of hers and all of a sudden, it all felt so real.
You could feel his fingers rub over yours with a strangely soft touch and all the heat rose to your face again.
"It is a brave thing, to show yourself to someone" he said, looking down at you, "Someday, I hope to do the same for you" he said quietly.
You flicked from one of his eyes to his eyepatch, knowing that this was the source of his own pain. All the things the ladies and your sister had said about this man. Saying he was monstrous, tempestuous and someone to fear. It was clear that these people just did not know him.
"Being with you is like being alone" he said quietly, almost to say it to himself.
Your other hand came to his arm, hand smoothing over the soft leather, reaching out to touch him to see if he was real. Your smaller hands barely came around his arm but you squeezed it, offering whatever comfort you could.
At his words, you nodded in agreement, and he could see the sincerity in your eyes. Perhaps he merely wanted to be understood, like everyone would like, but something that people like yourselves was difficult to find.
Dropping the notebook, the charcoal fell to the ground and snapped in two and before Aemond could open his mouth to question, you laid your head against his chest, hearing and feeling his heartbeat through the thick leathers.
He stood stock still for a moment, hands suspended in the warm air around you until he carefully laid them on your shoulders, pulling the hair over your shoulder. And for a moment he could not tell if he was greatly confused, shocked, horrified or comforted by the feeling.
A shudder rattled down your back as you felt his chin rest on top of your head.
"Kirimvose" he whispered, making a burst of air leave you with a laugh. It sounded mildly forced, and it warmed your chest in a way that bloomed across your whole body, knowing now that despite his discomfort, he had said it.
Summary- In order to protect her house and keep the Riverlands safe from dragonfire, Lady Brea Tully is bound to the house of the dragon.
Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Graphic depictions of war, violence, and gore. Enemies to lovers/strangers to lovers. Slow burn. Arranged marriage. Smut. Angst. Fluff.
Author's Note- I finished this story 3+ months ago but it has such a special place in my heart that I wanted to post a masterlist to it here. So if you're in the mood for an OC story, this one is finished :)
Summary- With the annual family vacation to the Targaryen cottage on God's Eye lake looming over his head, Aemond makes a deal with his academic rival to keep his family off his back.
Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Fake dating/Modern AU. All further warnings will be at the beginning of each individual chapter.
Author's Note- I've missed writing full fledged series so much and writing this has definitely been filling the void finishing Fire and Water left behind lol. Hopefully other people enjoy it as much as I have been!
Next episode this harrenhal arc better be over cause Iâm tired of seeing that stupid ghostbusters ass building. We see daemon being haunted more than I see my queen helaena.
SORRY I don't listen to anything that condal says (which I recommend) but someone just told me he said meleys was BELOVED by the smallfolk I'm so fucking done with this show if he said that. even putting aside the fact she squished a healthy chunk of them into peasant paste a few weeks back. The idea that any dragon is beloved by the smallfolk is fucking hilarious. Thats like the British army carting the shell of a nuclear missile through the streets of London and me being like âheartbreaking. she was so slay đąâ
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