I've decided to finally share with you my Aemond Targaryen AI.
Programmed to follow any kind of AU (except modern, I've been working on another one for that).
You are all invited to test him and send me messages with feedback, screenshots or suggestions. I might need to tune him a little.
summary | It takes little effort for your boyfriend, Aemond, to drive you insane.
pairing | modern aemond targaryen x girlfriend!reader
tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, blowjob, naughty thoughts, aemond is So Fucking Hot, attempt at drunk sex, alcohol intoxication, spit kink, daddy kink, unexpectedly fluffy at the end!
wordcount | 3.3k
note | a little something to start your week! i need modern aemond astronomically bad. in ways concerning to feminism.
song rec | Give You My Lovin - Mazzy Star
likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated! i am open for fic requests <3
(divider by @saradika-graphics)
When you first started dating your boyfriend, Aemond, you had never felt so greedy for someone the way you did for him. You just couldn't get enough of him– his hair, scent, innate confidence, and that face, gods, that was a face you would certainly go to war for. You were insatiable, and so was he. Many dates had been cut short because both your hands started wandering a little too much, or a look from him would immediately have your skin on fire and end up with you pulling him out the door to rush home.
And after 3 years of dating, it was safe to say this man still had you feral from every little thing he did, even without the intention of doing so.
It was early, too early even, to be feeling this way. You both had just woken up in your shared apartment, having a slow morning on your day off. With having lived together for more than a year now, you and Aemond had established your respective routines at home. At this time, both of you should have been out on a morning run, but your activities from last night left a terrible ache in your thighs which had you both staying in that morning. You were still in bed, leaning on the headboard, watching Aemond do pull-ups on the bar by the doorframe. He was only clad in his plaid pajama bottoms, and his back was turned to you, giving you a perfect view of the way his back muscles rippled with every movement. Your eyes watched as the veins on his forearms bulged every time he lifted himself. His arm muscles were well-defined and toned, waist trim, and shoulders wide. Years of calisthenics blessed your boyfriend with a lean, lithe form. He was tall, the tallest in his family, blessed with long legs and a model-like figure. There have been countless moments where girls would come up to your boyfriend in hopes of charming him, but sweet, faithful Aemond only had eyes for his girl.
He puffed out a breath of air with every rep, and droplets of sweat started to run down his back from the sheer exertion. You had lost track of how long he had been doing this, but you weren’t complaining. As he dropped back to his feet, he rolled his shoulders back, letting out a groan. The sound alone went straight to your core, which had been throbbing restlessly while watching him work out. He turned around to face you, and you bit your lip at the sight of his bare chest, sprinkled with light hair. His abs were incredibly well-defined, and you resisted the urge to run your finger down the bumps of defined muscle on his abdomen. How the hell does one even get an eight-pack?
“Baby?”
“Hm?” You hummed, snapping out your trance. The corner of Aemond’s thin lips quirked up when he caught you shamelessly staring at him, and his eye didn’t miss the way you subtly rubbed your thighs together underneath the blankets.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked amusedly, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Mm… no,” you said sheepishly. Aemond chuckled, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed by your side.
You could smell the sweat off his skin, the heat radiating from his flesh warmed you through the blankets. Your cheeks blushed as you caught the sight of a lone droplet of sweat on the tip of his aquiline nose, right on the cleft. His hand rubbed the side of your thighs, sending a spark that ran up your spine. All of your sense were gone as your blood rushed to your cunt, rendering your mind cloudy aside from the fact of how much you want to fuck.
Shit, were you ovulating?
“Y’alright?” He asked, his good eye studying your face.
“Mhm,” you merely nodded, not trusting your own voice to form words at that moment. He smirked, knowing full well the kind of thoughts running through your head. Aemond leaned his face closer to yours, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Really? ‘Cos you got a little drool here,” He teased you, playfully wiping the corner of your mouth. You slapped his hand away, rolling your eyes as he bellowed out a laugh, though you couldn’t resist the way your lips tugged into a smile. You furrowed your eyebrows to feign anger, grasping his wrist to pull him on top of you.
“Enough of that, come here!”
It was half past 1 a.m. when Aemond opened the front door to the sight of you, drunkenly leaning on your friend who struggled to keep you on your feet. You had been out for girls’ night, and your boyfriend had patiently waited for you at home while you were out. He took you into his arms, thanking your best friend for safely taking you home, before shutting the door behind you both.
“Aem,” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck. Through your drunken haze, you feel a kiss planted on your hair, smoothing out the strands that had gotten messed up.
“Hi, baby,” Aemond greeted you, rubbing the exposed flesh on your waist. “Did you have a good time?”
You hummed as you nodded, leaning on the wall while Aemond bent down to take off your shoes. You had a fun night with your girls, perhaps a little too fun. The lightweight that you were, it only took you a couple of cocktails to have you warm and loose. Though sometime through the night you had started to miss your boyfriend, the fuzzy feeling from the alcohol going straight to your core as you thought about what he was up to.
Aemond guided you through your home with a hand on your waist, slowly taking steps forward while you leaned your weight on him. As you reached the living room, you turned your body towards him, wrapping both arms around his torso, and looking up at him with your chin on his chest.
You let out a deep affectionate sigh as you stared at him through dizzy, blurry eyes. He was wearing his glasses, having been busy reading while he waited for you to come home. The thin frames sat on his perfect nose, the sight sending a warm flutter across your chest. How he made glasses look so fucking hot, you had no idea.
“I missed you,” You confessed, rubbing a hand on his chest. Aemond smiled at your words, leaning down to plant another kiss on your forehead.
“I missed you too, darling. Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” he suggested, though you only whined and planted your feet on the floor.
“I need you, Aem,” You said, gripping on his bicep. Your nipples were hard against the thin fabric of your top, poking at Aemond’s chest as you pressed yourself against him. Your boyfriend only sighed, shaking his head slightly as he knew what you were up to. Truth be told, you were always needy for him. Your heart thumped heavily with yearning for his touch, his warmth, and that only amplified when you weren’t sober.
“No, baby, you know we can’t,” Aemond refused. It went against every fiber of his morality-driven being to take pleasure from you while you were intoxicated. His mother would be horrified if he did, reprimanding him that you were a woman, and every woman must be respected as she was the image of the Mother.
But gods, you were irresistible when you were needy.
You stomped your foot childishly at his refusal, grabbing his hand to guide it up your skirt. Your grip was surprisingly strong despite your intoxicated state, forcing his fingers past your panties where your cunt dripped with arousal, just for him.
“Please, Daddy, I need you so bad,” You cried out, hiding your face in his neck. Aemond could feel his resolve faltering as his cock jumped from how your slick coated his fingertips. He gulped, pulling his hand away from your core and wiping it away.
His large hands cupped your face, prompting you to look at him. Aemond’s heart twinged at the frown on your pink lips, your cheeks still adorably flushed from the liquor you had consumed.
“It wouldn’t be right, with you drunk while I’m sober.” He explained, rubbing at your jaw affectionately. Some hair fell into your face, and his fingers tucked them behind your ear.
“I’m not drunk!”
“Okay, alright,” A chuckle fell from Aemond’s lips at your protest, before planting a kiss on your nose. “How about tomorrow, hm? I’ll spend the entire morning making it up to you if you still feel up for it.”
A defeated sigh left your lips, accepting you won’t be able to convince him tonight.
Damn you, Alicent, for raising such a perfect son.
You let Aemond guide you to the bathroom, where he helped you change into your pajamas before cleaning your face. He knew how much you would regret it if you went to be with a dirty face, so he clipped away your hair before removing your makeup himself. He held your hair back in one hand as you washed your face, a towel ready in the other. Your boyfriend patted your face dry and then applied your skincare products. The liquid felt cool against your flushed skin, your eyes comfortably closing as you let him take care of you.
The cold water on your face had helped you sober up a bit, and as you opened your eyes, the sight of Aemond’s concentrated face greeted you. The man took everything in his life quite seriously, even something so mundane as helping his darling girl clean her face after a drunken night out. You huffed out a chuckle, prompting him to meet your eyes.
“What’s funny?” he asked, but only getting a shake of the head as a response from you. Your hand grabbed his wrist, stopping his hand’s ministrations. You leaned forward to capture his lips in a sweet kiss.
“Baby,” Aemond tsked, pulling away from you. His good eye met yours, which shined with affection for him. His heart fluttered at the beauty that stood before him, giving you a small smile in return to your shy one.
You were guided to your shared bedroom after brushing your teeth, sinking into the soft mattress as your exhaustion caught up to you. In the darkness of your home, your tired body turned to snuggle into Aemond’s arms. You let out a content sigh, whispering ‘I love you’ into your beloved’s skin.
The sound of Aemond’s breathless moans filled the room as they fell freely from his lips. He was sitting on the couch, boxers dropped to his ankles as your head bobbed up and down his length. Your hair was gripped tight into a ponytail in one hand while the other gripped the armrest of the couch tightly. The movie on your television was completely forgotten, only serving as background noise while you sucked your boyfriend’s cock. It drowned out the wet slick sounds coming from your mouth as Aemond continued to thrust his hips up, chasing his release.
He cursed under his breath when your hand came up to fondle his balls, throwing his head back as you hurled him closer to his precipice. Before the knot in his stomach could snap, he pulled you away from his cock, hurling you up from your knees and onto the couch.
Aemond pulled off your shorts and panties in one go, before turning you around to drape your upper body on the arm of the couch. You could only gasp when he entered you in one swift motion. His hips pounded into you mercilessly, giving you no time to catch your breath as you moaned. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as his cockhead bullied your sweet spot deliciously.
“Aemond,” You wailed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. The sound of skin slamming onto each other overlapped with the movie soundtrack as the credits started to roll, though both of you still paid it no mind.
Aemond let out a groan, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. Your cunt throbbed as you heard him pant and grunt in your ear. His hands clutched your hips with a grip that was sure to leave marks, while his pace was still relentless, never faltering.
“Ha, so fucking tight. Perhaps I should fuck this pussy more, hm? Give it more attention?” He grunted in your ear. You whimpered at his words, walls clenching in excitement at the thought. “Yeah? You like that, baby?”
“Fu- yes, Daddy,” You whined shamelessly. Aemond let out a dark chuckle, planting a kiss on your temple before sitting back on his haunches. He pulled out his cock to manhandle you onto your back, before thrusting into you again to continue fucking you into release. Your leg draped over the back of the couch while the other was gripped tightly in Aemond’s hand. You lowered your hand to rub circles into your clit, but your boyfriend slapped it away to rub it himself. His thumb drew fast, hard circles onto your pearl, making your toes clench as it tightened the coil in your belly. You were so close, and Aemond could feel it with the way your walls spasmodically tightened around his cock.
You could feel your climax threaten to wash you over, and as your moans only grew louder in pitch, Aemond’s hips thrust into you harder and harder. A chorus of ‘uh, uh, uh’s helplessly fell from your lips as you felt yourself being sunken deeper into the plush couch.
A hand came up to the armrest above your head to ground yourself when Aemond took both of your thighs and pressed them against your chest. Your tailbone lifted into the air as your body folded in half like a doll. Aemond watched your eyebrows furrow and your jaw fall open, before clutching your cheeks to spit into your mouth. He gave you a praising pat when you swallowed, and continuing to rub your clit once more. His good eye stayed on yours which had grown dazed as you lost yourself in the throes of your pleasure.
As his hips continued to thrust into you in tandem with the circles he drew on your pearl, your thighs began to shake when you felt the beginning of your release. You let out a long whine, clutching onto Aemond’s bicep as you spilled around his cock. The man above you groaned as your walls squeezed his length, prompting his release. Curses continued to fall from his lips as your spasming walls milked him dry.
You felt boneless as you caught your breath after your climax. The weight of Aemond’s body was a welcome comfort as he collapsed on top of you, equally as breathless. His softening cock remained in your pussy which had only begun to slowly stop its spasms. The combination of your juices dripped around his cock, running down your slit and onto the couch. You reminded yourself to clean your mess later, but with Aemond still lying on top of you, you remained motionless as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking.
The glare of the television was still bright against your closed eyelids, which had redirected to the menu after long minutes of inactivity. You opened your eyes to the blinking reminder,
'Still watching?'
The sun shone brightly as you lounged by the courtyard in the Targaryen mansion. You and Aemond had visited for the weekly brunch organized by his mother as a chance to see her children. You loved driving up to their family home, relishing in the chance to get away from the bustling city for a moment in the quiet farmland the historic manor sat upon. Beside you, was Helaena, who indulged you with the latest gossip at the veterinary hospital she worked at.
“People saw them leave together for their break, and they were gone for more than an hour!” She exclaimed, wildly waving her martini glass around. Despite your interest in the juicy details Helaena divulged, you could only half listen to her words as you mindlessly sipped on your martini. Your focus was on a sight by the grass, where your boyfriend played with his nephews and niece. He let the children roughhouse him, rolling around in the grass as they climbed up on top of him. Aemond had always had a sweet spot for his sister’s children, while his own heart longed for babes of his own. Your heart warmed as gleeful laughter and shrieks echoed through the air, chuckling as you watched the tall silver-haired man fall helplessly to the children’s mercy. You hadn’t even noticed when Helaena stopped talking, your good friend only watching the lovestruck look on your face as your attention was fully on Aemond.
“Have you guys talked about it yet?” She asked. You tore your gaze away from the grass, turning to the woman beside you.
“About what?” you responded, clueless as to what she was referring to.
“Y’know, having kids, getting married,” she indicated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You blushed at her words, downing the cocktail in your hand before fidgeting with the stem of the glass.
“Uh, a little bit? I-I mean I want to have kids with him for sure, but… I don’t know if we’re ready yet,” You stammered, flustered with her abrupt question. Your gaze returned to your boyfriend, who had now risen to his feet, carrying all three children. Jaehaerys and Maelor clung to his legs, while Jaehaera was carried on his back. They all squealed in delight as Aemond trudged through the grass, slow and careful to not drop them. Your heart warmed at the sight, mind helplessly wandering to the thought of him being a father to your own kids. He’d expressed his want for children, often in the form of whispering his intent to breed you and leave you full of his seed during sex. But those are uttered in the heat of the moment.
Still, you can’t help but yearn for the moment when you would finally vow to be his forever and to have a family of your own.
Aemond managed to walk back to where his brothers stood without any of the children falling off. Upon seeing Aegon crouched with open arms, the boys let go of their uncle’s legs to run to him. The elder Targaryen managed to catch both boys, carrying them in his arms with no complaint. He turned to his younger brother, who shifted sweet Jaehaera from his back.
“Your girl looks like she could eat you any second, brother,” Aegon commented, eyes flickering to where you lounged with Helaena. Daeron snickered, covering his lips with the bottle of beer he held when Aemond shot him a look.
“You can’t say that in front of the kids, Aegon,” Aemond reprimanded. The children paid the adults no mind, having asked to be put down again to run off and play in their little playground.
“Y’know Mum’s asking for more grandkids? Said she wasn’t getting any younger,” Daeron said, wiggling his eyebrows at his older brother. Despite his mother’s young age, Alicent loved being a grandmother and was constantly dreaming for more grandchildren, often directing the request to her favorite son every time she brought it up. She absolutely adored you and has been treating you as her own daughter since early into your and Aemond’s relationship.
“Yeah I know, I’m working on it,” Aemond sighed wistfully, snatching Daeron’s beer to take a swig, despite the youngest’s protest.
Aemond turned to where you sat, giving you a wave when you flashed him a sweet smile. He felt happy to see you with his family, especially with his mother and sister, who were both the most important women in his life. It felt right, having you here. He could see a future with you in it, and babes of your own to play with. Truth was, Aemond was more than ready. He would take you down to city hall to marry you right away the moment you asked. He would give you the grandest of weddings, however you liked it.
However, it couldn’t be just up to him. If you needed time, he would respect it, and if you decided that marriage wasn’t for you, well, what else could he do?
Still, the longing weighed heavily in his chest, as did the ring that sat in his pocket.
So why is Dorne really important? Here’s the thing: Dorne is the only Kingdom in Seven Kingdoms who never bowed to a Targaryen. Aegon the Conqueror could never conquer Dorne. Daeron the Young Dragon tried to take Dorne once, and he became the youngest King ever died. Dorne retain their sovereignty through-out the history. Elia was a Princess not because she married into the Targaryen family, no. She’s a Princess in her own right. Oberyn and Doran were Princes in their own right. Not even the Starks were able to maintain their independence. The only way that the Targaryens succeeded in bringing Dorne to their fold is through marriage. That’s right. You read that right. Dorne is Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken.
Dorne is not just a bunch of scantily clad sexy brown people that can be used as a plot device. Dorne is an independent Kingdom. Dorne deserves better.
Me: Shhhhhh... sh sh shhhh It's ok ... I’m not excusing any of them or their actions. They are all terrible horrible little creatures, even the ones I love nad relate to.... All with a warped sense of morality because they were created by humans who are complex and nuanced in their own ideals.
I’m just saying I don’t care. I’ll fuck all of them. Or rather... I'm happy to make them all fuck each other while giggling in my little writer cave.
When you tell your f/o that your exes have never been able to make you cum, so it’s okay if they don’t either because you’re used to it. And he just gives you the dirtiest look before making it his mission to have you creaming on his fingers and tongue at least four times before he even thinks about giving you his cock— but he’s so fucking shocked at how fucking sensitive you are for him as he wonders how the fuck your exes could’ve ever failed to make you cum when you’re so responsive for him.
[ warnings: uprotected sex, incest obviously, smut, the angst, manipulation (partly unintentional), violent description of suicide attempt (blood), injection of a sleeping drug, violence, imprisoning, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]
[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]
Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.
Series & Characters Moodboard
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
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He could have become a father.
Could was the key word in his life: he could do a lot of things theoretically, but for the most part the line between what was accessible to him and what was not was clearly drawn.
He couldn't escape the world that was consuming him.
He couldn't change who he was.
He couldn't marry his niece, at least in the light of social morality.
But he could become the father of her child because she hadn't taken the pill.
This news thrilled him so much that for a moment he forgot that his own father was dead.
And the complications that came with it.
Looking at his body in the morgue, he thought that perhaps a good thing had happened: Viserys looked sick and tired, his face expressing relief.
He was with his first wife now, the one he really loved, he thought with regret, and felt a squeeze in his heart, seeing his niece's face in his mind then, as she laid beneath him, panting loudly, seared, warm and wet only for him.
He grunted, shifting from foot to foot, recognising that he shouldn't be thinking about it right now.
Only Rhaenyra, Helaena and his mother wept over his body.
Neither he nor Aegon shed a single tear.
The next day he felt excited like a small child and terrified at the same time: it was the first time he was to see the University from the inside, to talk to the professor and on top of that, to see her, again.
If it worked out, they would study together.
Perhaps they would even go on excavations, just like when they were children.
Maybe there was some part of their lives that they could get back.
He texted her that he would come and was relieved when he spotted her silhouette waiting for him in the car park. As soon as he stepped out of the car he felt uncertainty and fear, wondering if this was a good idea.
What if his grandfather found out?
If he was putting her and himself in danger?
He involuntarily reached into the pocket of his jacket, wanting to soothe himself with a cigarette.
"There's no smoking allowed on University premises." She said, furrowing her brow, making his hand drop in a gesture of helplessness and impatience.
"Are you fucking serious?"
"Yes. Let's go. We'll find my professor in the teachers' common room, he's just having a break between lectures." She sighed, ignoring his tone and demeanour, moving ahead.
He had to admit that the whole campus impressed him: the lawns and the huge park around which the gigantic nineteenth-century brick building towered were full of students sitting on the grass, reading books and talking to each other.
They had no worries except their exams, he thought regretfully, concluding that they didn't even know how lucky they were.
The conversation with the professor was overwhelming for him: he had never been able to find himself talking to strangers, even less so when he couldn't leave or defend himself when he heard a difficult question.
The man sitting in front of him was not a man transporting cocaine by ship, but an old man with big glasses who was telling him that if he were able to participate in the excavations, part-time studies would be possible for him.
"Well, if that's the case, then please prepare yourself for the exams. Then we'll see what comes of it." Said the professor and stood up, nodding, letting them know that their meeting was over.
"Is that it?" He asked in disbelief, looking at her with big eyes, wondering if it was a joke, but she only smiled.
"Yes." She replied. "Thank you, Professor."
As they left, he felt discomfort at the thought that he didn't know how to act. He guessed that he had interrupted her class and should leave, but that meant there was no telling when he would see her again.
He wanted to simply spend some time with her, but he didn't know how.
"If you'd like, I'll wait and drive you home." He said offhandedly, glancing at the poster hanging on the wall right next to him, hiding his hands in his trousers so she wouldn't see them tremble.
She blinked and looked at him, surprised.
"No need. Mum will pick me up." She muttered quietly, as if embarrassed. He felt an unpleasant sting of disappointment at her words and in a subconscious reflex he wanted to hurt her because of it, if only a little, to be sure she felt what he felt.
"They pick you up and drop you off like a little girl?" He asked with a sneer, glancing at her, but the smirk disappeared from his face when he noticed the way she looked at him.
She was angry and bored.
"Ever since someone put a rape pill into my drink, yes." She said coldly, and he froze, thinking he was an awful person.
How could he forget about it, say something so ill-considered after what had happened to her?
He suddenly realised how it worked in his mind, how he reacted involuntarily to pain wanting to automatically cause it to another person, even if they didn't deserve it.
This thought terrified him.
Some part of him wanted to make it up to her, to prove that there was a part of him that wanted to change.
"Do you know who did this? I can take care of it. For your comfort." He asked, feigning indifference, involuntarily scratching his chin, unable to look her in the face.
"Larys Strong."
He looked at her, furrowing his brow.
"What?"
"I already told you. He was telling me about my father."
"But it wasn't him who put it into your drink, it was one of his people, right?"
"He asked me if I wanted a drink. I said no. Then he ordered water for me. I took a few sips from it and struggled to get to the bathroom."
He looked at her, feeling how slowly a picture that seemed to him to be just scattered shards suddenly came together, the fact that Larys had dragged her there was never supposed to be an accident, and his grandfather knew about it.
This is the last time you interfere in their affairs.
They hoped she'd call for Daemon.
That, knowing his explosive nature, there would be a shootout in which they would kill her step-father before Viserys die, so that he and his half-sister's businesses could then be easily taken over.
"Son of a bitch." He hissed out, feeling that he was breathing heavily through his mouth, that his hands were clenched into fists, that his heart was pounding like mad.
Only after a moment did he realise that his niece was looking at him with big eyes, horrified that what was happening in his mind had not escaped her attention.
"Don't interfere. Go home." She said, making him feel a squeeze in his heart for some reason.
"And when are you going to teach me?" He mouthed, realising only after a moment that he sounded like a little boy. She shook her head, as if she didn't understand what he was saying.
"What?"
"For the exams. I need you to help me. How do I reconcile what I have to do at night with studying if I don't know where to start?"
He watched as she sighed heavily and ran her hand over her face, praying that she would agree, that she would not abandon him, that she would not leave him in the dark room that was his heart.
His little lamp.
Yes, he thought, feeling a pleasant, gentle warmth in his chest.
That's what she was to him.
"Okay. Okay, I'll help you. I'll pass you the study books somehow." She decided at last, distraught and tired, making him swallow loudly with relief as he looked down at her.
He wanted to touch her.
He wanted to embrace her, to kiss her, but it seemed inappropriate.
Not after what he'd done to her.
"Can I touch your hand?" He asked in a trembling voice, feeling like an idiot, a weak, quivering child begging for a moment's attention, a moment's tenderness.
She looked at him in a way from which his throat tightened with affection, her hand extended towards him made him grasp it in his own.
He watched, breathing hard, elated as his fingers entwined with hers in a pleasant, soft embrace, her skin warm, smooth and soft, exactly as he remembered it.
He felt both moved and aroused at the same time by this sight, by the feeling of her bare body in a way that was not purely sexual, yet so intimate, private, reserved only for someone close to her.
"Walk me out." He whispered.
To his delight, she didn't let go of his hand until they reached his car. He couldn't find the words to say goodbye or thank her for what she'd done, feeling only shame, so he just got in the car and drove away.
He knew it was wrong.
He knew it was wrong and he couldn't stop.
The forbidden fruit tempts most, he remembered her words and swallowed hard, driving ahead in silence, wondering if that was indeed all this was about.
The thought that maybe not terrified him, because it meant that there would be no moment in his life when he could let her go, allowing her to live at last.
It meant that he would devour her, choke her in his own darkness.
The next day, everyone was nervous: the meeting with the notary was going to be groundbreaking. Otto was certain that Viserys had divided his wealth equally between each of his children, which would mean that Rhaenyra's share would also belong to Daemon.
"I don't think he would leave his daughter the brothels or the clubs where the crimes took place to avoid burdening her. This means that a real estate company and our money laundering business could fall to her. We will have to make steps to take it over, peacefully or not." Said his grandfather when he spotted him standing by his car alone having a cigarette.
He nodded, feeling discomfort and uncertainty, not knowing what he should answer.
"You are not yourself since the death of your father. What's happening to you?" Otto asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, making him press his lips together in displeasure.
Another fucking interrogation?
"I'm tired." He said coldly, taking a drag on his cigarette impatiently, looking at his family home, wondering if his father would take it away from his mother.
"Where were you the night he died? When Aegon woke up, you were not in the room."
He froze in mid-motion, letting out a loud puff of smoke through his nose, feeling his lower lip begin to tremble, his heart and stomach clenched in fear.
He couldn't remember if he had ever felt peace.
Maybe then, that night, when he felt the warmth of her body and fell asleep beside her, drunk and happy, he thought with regret.
"With my niece."
Otto laughed low, shaking his head.
"This is no time for jokes, Aemond. I don't want you to hide anything from me." He said slowly and calmly, as if trying to explain something to a small child.
He looked at him in a way from which his grandfather's expression changed, twisting in a grimace of shock and disbelief.
"Good God. What did you do to her?" He mouthed.
He grinned involuntarily at his question in a way from which Otto swallowed hard and clenched his eyes.
"Have you completely lost your mind? What has that poor girl done to you, hm? What if she tells her parents, accuses you in front of everyone? For God's sake, you're her uncle." He hissed quietly, stepping close to him and looking around, as if he wanted to make sure no one could hear him.
For some reason his dismay, his disgust, his disappointment gave him satisfaction.
The fact that he was arousing such feelings in him and other people seemed to him the most natural state he knew.
"We were just talking. About the past and the future." He lied, knowing that his grandfather didn't believe him, that he'd seen in his gaze what he'd done to her, what he'd done to her twice, and how fucking pleasurable it had been for him.
He decided that he wouldn't try to explain to him that she had peaked with him each time.
He wouldn't believe him anyway.
"We'll talk later." He hissed as his mother, Helaena and Aegon came out of their house, saying they were ready.
When they arrived Daemon and Rhaenyra were already waiting for them inside in a large, spacious office with windows overlooking the great city skyline. The notary greeted them, offered them coffee and tea, and then showed them to their seats.
He tried not to look at Daemon, feeling his gaze on him, knowing what he thought of him and that he had every right to do so.
He felt bad about it, but fuck, he wanted to be close to her and have a family with her.
He wanted to be able to love her.
Just her, just this one time in his life.
Was he asking for so much?
The notary, in the presence of the lawyers of both parties, unsealed the envelope in which was secured his father's last will, which he knew he had consulted with his grandfather.
Nevertheless, he felt anxious, felt the cold sweat on his back, a complete, tense silence all around them.
And then he began to read.
"I, Viserys Targaryen, present my last will as follows. I bequeath our family home to my wife, Alicent Targaryen, which will belong to her until her death, and then pass according to her will to one of our children. I bequeath all my other estates and properties to my children Aegon, Aemond, Helaena and Daeron to be shared equally between them. All of my investments and all premises under my business that I owned I pass to my daughter, Rhaenyra."
He stared at him dully, feeling as if he had gone completely deaf, his heart beginning to pound like mad as his hand clenched into a fist, his grandfather beside him twisting in his chair, shocked.
"This is some kind of misunderstanding." Otto said, on the other side Daemon laughed out loud, hiding his face with his hands.
He mocked them, he thought.
His father had mocked them for the last time.
He didn't understand why he felt tears burning under his eyelids, why his lips were trembling, why he expected anything else.
His appreciation, his trust, a gesture that would indicate that he understood what he was doing to ensure the well-being of their family.
Did he really think that he was taking money out of people by force, that he was cutting their faces to please his grandfather?
Yet it meant nothing.
Everything he did, everything he became apparently only made his father disgusted.
Because he was disgusting.
They all were.
"Unbelievable. We're not going to leave it like that. I'm sure this is Daemon's doing. FUCK!" Growled his grandfather, sitting in the passenger seat beside him, slapping his palms against the dashboard of his car.
He drove ahead, feeling a complete emptiness, feeling neither disappointment nor anger, wondering if he should pull over and hit one of the trees.
He wanted his father to see him as a cold, unbreakable man, one who would always defend his and his family's interests, one who could make sacrifices.
And he didn't even notice it.
All the wicked things he did turned out to be worthless.
He destroyed himself for nothing.
He had nothing.
In his mind, in his heart, in his wallet.
A fucking property by the sea.
"We will attack their family. If our clients find out, no one in the industry will care about us. We have to show strength, we have to act." Otto said, and he swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on his back.
We will attack their family.
We have to act.
His grandfather called a meeting in his office, which was to be attended by him, his brother and his mother. He paced around the room gesticulating, speaking quickly, Aegon as well as his mother sat in their seats flooded with tears.
He thought they looked pathetic.
"We need to give him a warning. Force him to come out with another, more acceptable offer for us." Said Otto, circling the room with his hands placed on his hips, analysing everything.
"You saw him. He laughed. He knows that he won." Mumbled Aegon, all swollen from crying.
Otto stopped and pressed his lips together.
"Leave me and Aemond alone." He said finally, making him freeze, his heart pounding like crazy.
Some premonition told him what he would want from him even before it left his mouth.
He was not mistaken, and as soon as his mother and brother left, his grandfather began to speak.
"Does Rhaenyra's daughter trust you?"
He stared dully ahead, answering him with a protracted, uncomfortable silence, feeling like throwing up for some reason.
"Aemond."
"No."
"No, what?"
"Don't drag her into this."
His grandfather pressed his lips together, leaning over him, resting his hands on his armrests.
"She's been dragged into this for a long time. If we don't take our chances, someone else will." He said calmly, making him feel an unpleasant sting in his heart.
"You knew."
"What?"
"That Larys had plans for her."
"I knew that he would act. Daemon's presence on the scene isn't to his liking."
"He put a fucking rape pill into her drink." He said coldly, clenching his hands into fists.
"It wasn't about rape there, at least that's my opinion. However, now, if he sends his people to her University, I cannot vouch for what will happen to her. With us she will be safe. We would lock her in a room in our house for a few days and treat her with respect as if she were our guest. My issue is with Daemon and Rhaenyra, not with her. Her harm is not my desire."
He looked at him, feeling a void in his mind, no longer knowing for himself what he thought of this, what was right and what was not.
"Are you going to let everything you've worked so hard for be taken away from you? For this man to laugh in our faces? What are we to use to maintain the estates your father left you? Even if we sell some of it, how many years will it last? We have to think about our future. I trust you to do the right thing."
He pressed his lips together, swallowing hard, thinking with disbelief that if he didn't, the part of himself that he had lost, that he had killed to become who he was, would turn out to be a sacrifice in vain.
Some part of him naively wanted to believe that she would understand.
"Only me and Helaena will have access to her room. I will be by her side the entire time, and my duties for that period will be taken over by someone else."
Otto smiled in a way from which he felt discomfort in his stomach and nodded, patting him on the shoulder.
"That's my boy."
He looked at his phone, at the message he'd sent her while sitting in his car two streets from her house, wondering how he could be doing this to her.
She wanted to help him change, she made an attempt.
Perhaps she was pregnant.
Hundreds of feelings mixed in his head, fear, grief, disgust, sadness, hatred and despair devoured him from the inside, forming one black mass from his thoughts.
She's not coming, he thought with a strange calmness.
She was not naive.
Daemon had certainly warned her not to trust them.
He'll return home and tell his grandfather that it just didn't work out.
But what will happen to them then?
They will have nothing to buy new goods with, or they will buy them, but they will have to raise their prices.
They will stop being competitive in the business.
They will lose customers.
They will go out of the game.
They will cease to count.
They will have no way to pay the police.
They will go to prison.
He shuddered, hearing rustling and someone's footsteps, his eyes big when he saw her breathless, flushed figure, her dark, loose hair in disarray.
She looked so beautiful.
He opened the door, unable to believe that she'd run away for him, just for him, watching as she pulled her backpack down quickly and handed it to him.
"Take this and get out of here." She muttered, but he only looked at her lips, parted in accelerated breath, soft and full.
He thought with horror that he wanted to feel her.
He wanted to be reassured.
He wanted to make love to her.
"– come here –"
"– I have to –"
"– come –"
"– I –"
"– it won't take long –"
Her gaze full of warmth, affection and trust, her parted lips, her hand that allowed him to pull her closer made him feel like his cock would explode with desire.
"– good girl – such a good girl –" He praised her when she sat on his lap at last, closing the door behind her. He slided his hands to his belt, panting hard, releasing his fat, long erection, leaking with desire at the mere sight of her.
He could only watch in disbelief as she took off her shorts, wordlessly allowing her to guide the thick, glistening head of his manhood against her slit, all pulsing with heat, slowly sinking it into her body.
He gasped at the ease with which she welcomed him into her warm, moist interior, how simple and proper it seemed.
It made him forget for a moment who he was and what he was supposed to do.
All that mattered was her, her face, her eyes, her forehead pressed against his, her warm buttocks under his fingers, her swollen, sweet lips, her slick tongue invading between his teeth, her little cunt that convulsed around his throbbing cock in ecstasy.
"– fuck – fuck, baby –" He muttered, unable to express otherwise how good she made him feel, why his hips were pounding into her so fast and so greedily, why he couldn't slow down, why he wanted it so desperately.
"– ah – G-God –" She mumbled, making him gasp, pleasant, tickling warmth in his lower abdomen.
Her soaked pussy squeezed and sucked him inside, making him pant loudly into her puffy lips, feeling his whole body grow hot, in some subconscious, natural reflex returning to where he felt good, where he felt safe: back deep, deep inside her.
He knew it wasn't just about sex: there was too much tenderness in in their movements, the touch of their hands too thoughtful and too gentle, too soft, their embrace too close, too intimate, their moans too helpless, too vulnerable.
"– Aemond –" She mewled into his throat on the brink of orgasm, bringing her clenching, moist, fleshy walls to the point where he felt a squeeze in his testicles, indicating that he was close too.
"– do you hear it? – do you hear how well you take me? – only you – fuck –" He gasped, listening to what he was doing to her, to his own niece, how loudly her sweet, little cunt clicked as he rooted into her again and again, how perfect she squeezed his cock, how warm she was, how wet she was, for him, only for him.
"– where? –" He muttered, wanting to be more responsible this time, slamming into her with a quick, sharp, deep thrusts of his hips, helplessly chasing his own fulfillment that he so desperately needed.
He didn't want to hurt her.
Never.
"– here – right here, uncle –" She breathed out and something in her words, in the way she said them made his body quiver as he reached his peak inside her, panting hard along with her. He gasped, resting his head against the backrest, trying to be quiet, feeling their bodies pulsate and shiver against each other.
He snuggled her face to his neck, feeling a wonderful pleasure and relief as his warm seed filled her insides at last, her scent, her closeness, her hot, pulsing interior calming him.
It felt so good.
So right.
"– I think I'm in love with you –" He whispered in a trembling voice, stroking her bare buttock with one hand, sliding the other between the seat and the gearbox, feeling the needle syringe under his fingers, from which he slipped the cap.
I'm sorry.
He heard her draw in a loud breath at his words, but he didn't let her answer.
He was afraid he would change his mind then.
"– forgive me –" He mumbled in trembling voice, heartbroken, her body tensed all over as he jabbed the needle into her neck and let the sleeping drug spread through her insides.
She whined quietly, terrified and surprised, reminding him of a small, innocent animal. He embraced her, feeling the remedy take effect after a moment, and her body relaxed in his embrace, a faint, weak cry escaping from her lips.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
"– shhh – shhh, sweet girl –" He hushed her tenderly, feeling his whole body tremble as tears of shame, disgust and regret ran down his cheeks along with the knowledge of what he had just done to her, his soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.
He used her because she trusted him, because she wanted to help him, because she really cared about him.
He sobbed quietly, closing his eyes, and cuddled his face against her neck, feeling her fall asleep, thinking that he wanted to take it back, that it was a mistake, a mistake, a mistake, that he just wanted her to forgive him.
Maybe he could carry her home?
Leave her at the gate and run away?
But what if someone found her unconscious, what if she fell ill from the cold, what if someone abused her in his absence, hurt her?
He realised that there was no way back.
Despite this realisation, he treated her body with gentleness and tenderness: he lifted her and slid out of her slowly, placing her shorts over her hips, laying her on the seat beside him, fastening her seatbelt. He took the unruly strands of hair from her face with his trembling hand, looking at her through tears, whooping with his own cry.
He thought she would never forgive him for this.
When he got home he went inside through the back door, carrying her in his arms, cradling her to his chest. He told his bodyguards that no one was to disturb him, ordering them to inform his grandfather that everything was sorted out.
"Aemond?" He heard his mother's voice behind him and stopped in half-step, looking at her over his shoulder with big eyes.
His mother was looking at him with her mouth open, disbelief and horror in her gaze.
"– Aemond – what is she doing here? –" She muttered, placing her hand on her chest, trying to calm herself down, breathing loudly as if she were going into some kind of panic attack.
"– we'll sort it out, Mum – don't worry –" He whispered. His mother furrowed her brow and shook her head.
"– you kidnapped an innocent child –" She said with regret and pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.
She was disgusted with him.
He understood her.
He longed for her to think of him like that.
He desired to suffer.
"– yes –"
He took her to the room where he had spent his entire youth until he moved into his flat and laid her gently on his bed, sitting down beside her, covering her carefully with the duvet. His hand rose slowly and hesitantly to finally stroke her soft hair, her face calm, immersed in deep sleep.
Vhagar, whom he had taken with him from his place, rose from the floor and ran up to them, sniffing him and the newcomer he had laid in his bed.
"– good girl – you will watch over her with me now, hm? –" He asked, stroking her soft fur.
Vhagar squealed, shifting from paw to paw beside him, concerned, as if she sensed that her sleeping state was not natural, something in her scent, in the drug he had given her made his dog restless.
Even she knew what he had done to her, he thought with regret.
He pulled off his shoes and placed them on the ground, laying down beside his niece, putting his arm around her. He pressed his forehead against hers, inhaling deeply her scent, letting his fingers run over the soft skin of her cheek, thinking that he was surely doing this for the last time in his life.
He felt a sting in his heart at that thought, his eyebrows arched in pain as he pressed her body against his, weaving his hand into her hair, burying her head in his neck, trying to calm himself.
"– I will always watch over you –"
In the morning he was awakened by her babbling: she was mumbling something under her breath, her hand clenched on the material of his black Tshirt, he could feel her trying to stand.
"– shhh – lie down – don't get up –" He whispered in a trembling voice, feeling only horror, only despair, only shame.
She would never forgive him for this.
"– where – mghmm –" She muttered, involuntarily falling into his arms again, recognising him and his scent, her fingers closed on his back, snuggling into him in a tender embrace from which he felt his body begin to quiver.
"– easy – easy, little one –" He said, kissing the top of her head again and again, her hair wonderfully soft and smooth under his hand.
"– what's happened? –" She asked, and he remained silent, as he had no idea what to answer her.
His lack of words clearly worried her, for she raised herself on her arm again: she looked around, her gaze hazy, dreamy, her brow furrowed as she did not recognise where she was.
"– Aemond – what's going on? –" She asked wearily, slowly understanding that something was wrong, her breathing louder and heavier, her eyes large and filled with fear.
He lifted himself onto his arm, moving closer to her, his free hand stroking her cheek as he pressed his forehead to her temple.
"– forgive me –" He whispered in a weak, trembling voice, thinking he sounded pathetic.
She sucked in a deep breath and squealed, covering her mouth with her hand as if trying to stop the sound, her eyelids clenched shut as she cried out loud, bursting into tears.
"– oh, baby –" He muttered pleadingly, kissing her red, plump cheek, embracing her tightly despite her hands trying to push him away. "– it will only last a few days, I promise –"
She pulled out of his embrace, moving away to the other end of the bed, looking at him with wide eyes, catching her head with her hands as if she couldn't believe what was happening, her mouth parted wide in a heavy, terrified breath.
"– I – I let you – you touched me, and then you – oh God – oh my God, no no no no no no –" She whimpered hiding her head between her knees, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to create a fortress, and he could only sit and watch, trying to remember that he needed to breathe.
"– we just need to talk to Daemon – I promise no one will hurt you –" He muttered quickly, but it seemed to him that she wasn't listening to him, plunged into complete hysteria.
"– I helped you – I ran away for you – I brought you books just as you asked – so why did you do this to me? –" She mumbled out, choking on her own tears, her fingers clenched on her hair as if she wanted to rip it out.
He felt like he was drowning, like he was sinking deeper and deeper to the depths with every breath.
"– I know – I know, baby, I'm so sorry – but my father left us no choice – fuck, I know you understand me –" He choked out with difficulty, looking at her hopefully, for some reason naively believing that she would find justification in her heart for his horrible act.
She, however, looked at him dully and froze, her trembling hands raised at the level of her cheeks, her lips parted in a half-breath.
He was sure that she was going to say something, that she was going to shout in his face that she hated him, that he was a monster, a nobody, a disgusting creature, everything that he so needed to hear in order to find himself in the state to which he always returned in the end.
She, however, turned her back to him, hugging her body and face to the wall, tucking her legs under her chin and froze so still.
"– Rhaenys? – please – please, say something – I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear –" He mumbled, trying to touch her calf, but she flinched and moved further away from him, as if his touch had burned her.
He burst into sobs, thinking that her silence, her wordless rejection was worse than any word from her, and he was like a child who longed for the parent he had failed to look at him with a sympathetic eye again.
"– please – please, say something –"
But she said nothing.
For the next few days she did not look at him, she did not answer his questions, and when he tried to touch her she moved as far away as possible, hiding her head between her knees.
He took away her phone out of fear that she would try to contact someone and all the things out of his room that she could use to hurt herself or others.
She ate and drank only the things Helaena brought her.
When he tried to feed her, she would snatch things from his hand and throw them at the wall.
On the one hand he felt rage at that moment, a subconscious need to hurt and punish her, and on the other he felt relieved because he wanted to suffer, because he knew he deserved it.
"– you have to eat –" He sighed, looking indifferently at the big stain of soup on the wall and the shards of the broken bowl thinking it was them.
Like the shards that couldn't be put back together again.
"– what did it feel like, cutting their faces? – did you feel like the Mighty Vhagar then? –"
Her voice, cold and harsh surprised him and made his heart stand in his throat, his body stop breathing for a moment, as if expressing its desire to die of shame.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, feeling that he was trembling, and met her gaze, sad, tired, aloof, embittered.
"– I had no choice –"
Lie.
"– you are lying –" She stated dispassionately. "– I don't want to see or hear you – I want you to pretend that you don't exist, just like you did with me for eight years – you're good at it –"
He lowered his gaze, feeling a complete void in his mind at her words, and got out of bed, kneeling on the floor to pick up the pieces of the broken bowl as if nothing had happened.
The only being she touched was Vhagar.
He watched from the sidelines as these two slowly established a relationship with each other. His niece would reach out to her, lying on his bed, and his dog would lean out and sniff her from afar without touching her, looking at her with big eyes.
Vhagar did not like strangers and was fussy, but apparently her calm approach and the fact that she did not impose herself on her made his dog express interest in her. When she would get up to reach for one of his books on the shelf, Vhagar would rise and follow her, keeping an appropriate distance, looking at her curiously.
She would lie down in her place only when his niece sat back down on the bed.
He first saw them lying together when he came home late one evening. He had shopped for her, bought her favourite sweets knowing that she would not eat them anyway, and when he walked into the room he saw her lying with Vhagar on her dog bed.
She was crying and cuddling into her fur as if she was a big teddy bear, and his dog, despite the fact that she usually got up at the sight of him, just looked at him with big eyes, not moving from her place.
Something about the sight broke him, and although he knelt down next to his niece and wanted to touch her back, he stopped mid-motion when he heard his dog growl at him for the first time in his life.
She knew.
Daemon and Rhaenyra's fury was great: the very next morning after it turned out that she had disappeared there had been an incident at one of their clubs, where his sister's husband had stormed in with her son and several men, threatening to shoot everyone present if he did not find out where his daughter was.
As planned, it was relayed to him that their child was safe and that Otto was waiting for contact from him when he had cooled down to discuss everything calmly.
As proof that they were not lying, they gave him her backpack – the same one in which she had brought him books.
Due to what happened, after his father's body was burned, there was only a short funeral ceremony in the cemetery, attended only by his mother and sister: his grandfather was afraid that Daemon's men, who had been watching them all the time, would lead to a shooting if they appeared there even for a moment.
Despite his niece's reluctance, he spent his days in her presence, sitting on the mattress on the other side of the room where he slept at night. He knew she didn't want to feel him next to her, but he preferred not to leave her alone knowing how frightened she was.
He suggested several times that they could go out together for a walk in the garden, but she didn't even look at him.
She was simultaneously closer and further away from him than ever before.
One night he was roused from sleep by someone's scream: he pulled himself up on the mattress, involuntarily reaching for the penknife in his sweatpants and looked around the room, only after a moment noticing her shivering figure sitting on his bed.
He sighed quietly and swallowed hard, trying to calm himself.
"– Rhaenys? – Rhaenys, what happened? –" He whispered, and she twitched at his words, turning towards him, looking at him with big eyes, all drenched in tears.
"– did you have a bad dream? –" He muttered, but she answered nothing, her lips parted in a heavy breath, her fingers clenched on the sheets.
"– hey – hey, baby – it's okay –" He whispered, rising slowly from his seat, tentatively approaching the bed. She raised her shoulders in a defensive gesture and moved away a little, but when he sat down next to her and raised his arm she didn't push him away.
Slowly he placed his hand on her shoulder and stroked her skin reassuringly, with the other cuddling her face into his neck.
"– shhh – easy – easy, little one – no one will hurt you –"
She was silent, and he prayed that this moment, her warm body in his embrace, his nose snuggled into her soft, fragrant hair, would last forever.
"– I'm not sure I want to live anymore –" She mumbled out finally, startling him, his stomach knotted tight in discomfort and horror.
"– no – don't say that – it won't take long – my grandfather is in contact with your mother – they will soon come to an agreement and you will return home –" He said, forcing himself to be calm, stroking her shoulder and back with one hand, the other combing his fingers through her hair, rocking her in his arms like a small child.
"– you broke my heart –"
Her words, the way she said them, what they meant made him gasp aloud, trying not to burst into a sudden sob of despair and grief.
He had broken her.
"– forgive me – I regret this like nothing else in my life, I swear – I will spend my life trying to make it up to you –" He muttered, tentatively kissing her warm temple, her cheekbone, her ear, everything that was familiar to him, beloved to him, his.
"– I love you – I love you in every sense of the word –"
"– I don't believe you –"
He pressed his lips together, swallowing hard, feeling a sort of high-pitched, trembling squeal come from his throat as if he were a little girl, tears one by one began to run down his cheeks to the top of her head, his fingers tightening on her delicate flesh.
"– I understand it – and I don't dare ask for it –" He whispered with difficulty, sinking his face into her soft, warm cheek, feeling that he was not the only one who was crying.
Her body trembled in the embrace of his arms, her small hands clenched on his shirt in a gesture that testified at once to her anger and her suffering from which his heart was breaking.
"– that feeling I had inside me was the only thing that allowed me to breathe – and you took it away from me –" She howled into the skin of his neck, and he burst out sobbing at her words, not knowing how he could react differently to what she had said.
"– I love you – I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much –" He mumbled out in a breaking voice, cuddling her tightly into him, placing loud, wet, hot kisses on her face, her jaw, her neck, her arms, leaving sticky, wet marks on it.
He heard her sigh full of pain and pleasure, feeling with shame that his erection swelled all over and hardened, pulsing painfully under the material of his sweatpants, betraying how much he longed for her, how much he yearned for her.
Her quiet moan surged through the skin of his neck as his broad hand slipped lower, sliding tentatively under the material of her shirt, touching her naked back at last, her bare skin, making them both tremble, breathing heavier and louder.
"– I love you –" He assured her, running his fingertips over the wonderfully smooth skin of her back, making goosebumps appear in the places he ran his fingers over. Her body snuggled into him tighter, allowing him to feel her breasts hidden under her tshirt against his chest.
"– you hurt me –" She sobbed through her tears in a breaking voice, at which his lips clung even harder to her shoulder, his kisses even more greedy and wet as his lips again and again brushed and teased the delicate structure of her skin.
"– no more – I swear – all I want is you –" He breathed out, feeling lust and desire pulsing through every nook and cranny of his body, filling his lower abdomen with a pleasurable, tickling tension from which his heart pounded like mad.
He moaned helplessly when he finally felt her warm, puffy lips brush his neck, her cheeks wet from tears as his hand pressed her closer.
"– please – please, baby, please –" He mumbled out, wanting only to feel her again, without her being just an empty part of an incomplete whole.
However, as his hand tentatively slid from her back to her buttock, she pulled away from him suddenly as if burned, hugging her back to the wall and shook her head.
"– no – no, no, no, you're doing this to me again –" She cried out loudly, looking at him with big, terrified eyes. He shook his head, heartbroken, leaning down, placing quick, warm kisses on her bare knee, stroking her calf with his palm.
"– no, I swear – I want you so badly –"
"– your grandfather told you to do this? – to soften me up so that in case my mother didn't agree he would get shares in her companies through me? –" She blurted out, wrinkling her eyebrows, breathing loudly. He swallowed hard and shook his head again, shocked, understanding how far her lack of trust went and who she now saw him as.
"– no – I was the one who demanded that I could be by your side – that no one but me could bother you – to make sure you were safe –" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, feeling like his whole face had swollen from tears.
"– I want to go to sleep – I want to go to sleep –" She mumbled out and turned her back to him, hugging herself to the wall again exactly as she did then, the first time, making him whimper, choking on his own tears. He pressed his face against her back, wailing loudly, his fingers clenched on her waist.
"– I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry – please don't reject me – I promise I'll be good now – I'm studying, I'm going to take my exams, I'm going to go to university – please, be there for me – it doesn't matter without you – my life doesn't matter if I can't share it with you –" He whined like an animal into her shirt and heard her weep loudly, but she answered him nothing.
However, she did not push him away or tell him to step back, so he fell asleep cuddled into her body, and the next day she again did not speak to him or look at him as if this conversation had never happened.
In her presence he cried all the time and didn't even hide it anymore.
Looking at her, he saw exactly as if in the reflection of a mirror who he had become and what he had sacrificed.
However, it turned out that his grandfather was partly right in his assumptions: Daemon just wanted to kill them all, but his wife didn't feel like risking her daughter's life for a fortune and was willing to talk to them if they let her see her.
"– tomorrow you will go with us to meet your parents – perhaps we will come to an agreement and you will return home –" He said, swallowing hard, standing over her small figure sitting on the sill of his window, looking out at the setting sun.
Her profile was gentle and pleasant, her eyes surrounded by a fan of dark lashes large and bright, her lips seemed wonderfully soft, full and sweet, made only to be caressed.
She closed her eyes, resting her temple against the glass, and did not even bestow a single glance on him.
He prepared himself for the fact that she would answer him nothing and wanted to sit down on the mattress, going back to reading one of the textbooks she had brought him, but he froze when he heard her voice.
"I'd like to take a bath." She said.
He swallowed hard, looking at her over his shoulder.
"Of course. I'll call Helaena." He replied, wanting to go out into the corridor.
They never left her alone.
For her own safety.
"No." She said and looked at him.
"I want ten minutes alone."
He looked at her, feeling anxiety and doubt in his heart, but he couldn't say no to her.
"Very well. I'll wait by the door."
She nodded and stood up, taking the towel that belonged to her from the chair and went outside. He followed her, walking towards the bathroom next to his room – she looked at him with frustration as he took the key out of the lock and shook his head.
"No. I won't come inside, but I won't let you lock yourself in." He said. She swallowed hard and nodded, and he closed the door behind her.
He leaned against the stair railing, hearing the sound of pouring water, and looked at his watch, sighing heavily.
Ten minutes, no more.
He heard her step into the bath and closed his eyes, thinking that perhaps this was just another ordeal they had to wait through together.
He wanted to believe that she had seen his sadness, shame and remorse, that by his behaviour and calmness he had proved to her that he was capable of being different, for her, only for her.
However, ten minutes passed, then eleven, and she still did not come out of the water.
He didn't want to invade her privacy and make her uncomfortable, but he felt impatient and became concerned that he didn't hear any movement in the room. He walked closer and knocked, sighing heavily.
"– Rhaenys – time's up –" He said matter-of-factly. He pressed his lips together when he heard no sound on the other side and knocked a second time, louder this time.
"– Rhaenys – please –" He sighed, running his hand over his face, deciding that whether she wanted it or not, he had to do it.
"– I'm coming inside – cover yourself –" He said, grabbing the door handle and stepped into the room.
It seemed to him that what he saw before him was some kind of frame from a film, not reality: the snow-white tiles around her head and dark hair, her half-open eyelids and mouth, her hands lying on the edge of the tub, her slit wrists and the crimson water in which she lay, his sister's T-shirt on her body.
He looked down and saw a tiny blade from a bookbinding knife lying on the floor.
For a moment he just stared at it, afraid to move, thinking it wasn't really happening.
"– Rhaenys? –" He muttered, approaching her slowly, but she didn't even flinch, staring ahead as if she was thoughts somewhere far away.
"– Rhaenys, what have you done? –" He mumbled as if he was afraid that if he said the words too loudly they would turn out to be true, and yet it could not be true.
"– God, baby – oh my fucking God –" He whined, pulling her by the shoulders out of the water with a loud splash of red liquid that spilled out.
He sat down on the floor, placing her between his legs, letting her head and back rest against his chest, his fingers tightening on her wrists in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
"– baby, what have you done? – hm? – what have you done? –" He whispered to her ear in a trembling voice, kissing her soft, warm face, feeling the initial shock begin to be replaced by a growing panic and the realisation that this was really happening.
He began to breathe loudly, as he always did when he was terrified and when he needed help calling out to the only person he trusted.
"– MUM! – MUM, HELP ME! –" He shouted like a helpless, broken child and burst into tears, clasping his fingers tighter on her wrists, resting his forehead on her shoulder.
"– oh God, oh God, oh, God, no, no no no, please, baby, please, please, don't leave me –" He whimpered, rocking her in his arms, cradling her to himself, again and again kissing her bare shoulder, her long neck, her sweet cheek.
He heard someone run up the stairs, the screams of his mother and sister at the sight they saw before their eyes made him look at them.
"– Mum –"
Even though he knew his grandfather would be furious, he and his mother called the ambulance. While waiting for the paramedics to arrive, she provisionally bandaged her hands together with Helaena, as well as dressed her in a clean shirt and underwear.
He did not let her out of his arms for a second, and when the ambulance arrived he told his mother that he would go with her.
He looked at her as he sat in the car, feeling his hands were sticky with her blood, thinking it was his fault, his fault, his fault.
She just wanted to run away, she just wanted to go home, but she didn't know how.
He made her do this.
When they arrived at the hospital it turned out that her condition was critical: because of how little she had eaten she had become anaemic and needed a quick blood transfusion.
"– take mine –" He said without thinking, and when the doctor asked him what blood type he had, it turned out that he and she had the same.
He could have done something that mattered.
He could have saved her.
He held her hand, lying on the bed beside him, staring dully at the ceiling, the other clenched again and again on the soft ball as he watched his blood fill the plastic bag.
When the doctor came inside, he asked him about what he had been thinking about for a long time.
"– there's – there's a possibility she's pregnant – and –" He mumbled, not knowing how to put it into words. The man looked at him, surprised.
"– she's definitely not pregnant – the tests didn't show it –" The doctor replied, and he swallowed hard, feeling for some reason a great disappointment and sadness.
If he became the father of her child, he could be a part of her life.
He would have an excuse to talk to her, to see her.
He tightened his fingers around hers, stroking her soft skin with his thumb, trying not to cry, thinking he deserved it.
What child would want to be born into such a world?
When it was all over he informed the doctors who they should contact, giving them his half-sister's phone number. Before he left the room, he handed her back her phone and slipped a letter into her locker, which he wrote hurriedly on a piece of paper with a pen the nurse had lent him.
For his own conscience he waited in the distance, watching as Daemon's Mercedes pulled into the car park, he and Rhaenyra ran inside the building without noticing him. He sighed heavily and licked his lower lip, glancing at his phone, seeing twenty missed calls from his grandfather. He dialled his number and put the phone to his ear, feeling strangely calm and relaxed.
"She's alive?" He heard Otto's voice on the other end.
"Yes." He replied dispassionately.
"Thank God. Why didn't you call for me? You ruined everything. Our doctor would have taken care of it. You…" He continued, but he hung up, not feeling like listening to his smart-ass bullshit.
His mother picked him up from the hospital.
"How is she? Will she survive? Have you contacted Rhaenyra?" She asked quickly as they set off, afraid that anyone would notice them.
He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, looking at the road with empty eyes.
"I gave her contact details to the hospital staff. They arrived, I saw it with my own eyes. She's safe now." He explained.
His mother breathed out loud, her big brown eyes simultaneously terrified and full of relief.
"You did the right thing, Aemond. No money is worth it. This poor girl." She muttered, shaking her head, trying not to cry and concentrate on driving.
"I destroyed her."
Alicent looked at him, then back at the road, her mouth open slightly in an accelerated breath.
"What do you mean?"
He pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling his brow arch in pain and shame.
"I went to her room the night my father died. We had sex, Mum." He muttered in a breaking voice, covering his face with his hand and burst out crying like a little boy.
His mother sighed loudly, shocked, twisting restlessly in her seat.
"– but – why – did she – did she want this? –" She asked in a trembling voice full of terror, indicating that she really believed he might have raped her.
He was not surprised.
"– yes – but I don't think that makes it look any better –" He mumbled, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, leaning his head forward.
"– we did it twice – and then a third time before I –" He didn't finish and cried out loudly, making his mother breathe heavily as if she was in the same state as him.
"– oh my God – oh my God, Aemond, what have you done – she's your niece –" She choked out finally.
"– I know, Mum –" He mumbled, running his fingers over his face, thinking he already understood where her desire to end her life and this perpetual sense of unfulfillment and emptiness came from.
"– me too – I'm no saint either –" She muttered finally, looking up at him with big eyes. "– me and Criston –"
He swallowed hard and shook his head, recognising that it wasn't the same.
"– I know, Mum – you won't hear a word of condemnation from me –"
His mother drew a loud breath and wept, as if she felt both relieved and sad at the same time.
"– nor will you hear them from me, son – since you both wanted it, it was simply a mistake of youth – you are both lost and have sought comfort – but it must not happen again – do you understand? – for your sake and hers –" She said with confidence and conviction that this was the best possible decision.
"– I keep thinking about her – since that holiday eight years ago – I've tried, but I can't stop –" He choked out at last, wiping his red cheek, feeling as if he were ten years old again, complaining to her that someone had beaten him up at school.
Alicent ran her hand over her face before placing her palm over his.
"– sometimes – sometimes we have to leave certain things to ourselves – the shameful desires of our hearts – and fulfil them when no one sees – do you understand? –" She asked in a trembling voice, and he nodded.
"– yes –"
"It is not love itself that is sin –" She said finally. "– but what we do with it."
Summary: Reader’s village in the Spring Court is destroyed by Hybern (F U Tampon), and she is on her own until Azriel finds her. She feels instantly connected to him, but is not sure why, until one morning when he tells her everything.
(Also my first attempt at duel POV)
Warnings: a smutty ending
Word Count: 6.4k
You were running for your life when Azriel found you.
After the High Lord of the Spring Court made a deal with the devil to bring back his love that fled from him, life looked much different for you.
Hybern had attacked your village, destroyed your home and everything you had ever known. Your High Lord was nowhere to be found. Most of the people you knew didn’t make it out. Somehow, you had, but you couldn’t help but wonder… at what cost?
You spent your time wandering the endless green spring, not sure what to do. You had missed the evacuation. Nobody knew you were injured or where you were. By the time you were well enough to walk, you were alone.
The panic was made worse by the fact that you knew what was in these lands -- monsters that you had no hope of beating should they target you.
And eventually, they did target you.
You weren’t sure what kind of creature it was -- just knew that those teeth could rip you to shreds and you wouldn’t be able to outrun it for long.
But you did run, because what other choice did you have? You ran and ran, not daring to look back. You could hear it gaining on you with every step, until you felt, more than heard, the ground shaking beneath you.
Suddenly, it was silent, the terrible feet of the monster no longer sounding behind you. You risked a glance back, and saw who must have been a warrior, with enormous black wings spread behind him, wiping off his bloody blade on the grass next to the carcass of the beast.
You stopped running, turning around slowly, studying him as he looked up at you. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen, with dark black hair and a completely stoic face, giving away absolutely nothing about what he was thinking. The hard lines of that face terrified you as much as they intrigued you. You realized you were shaking as he walked toward you slowly, as if approaching an injured animal. He was wearing some kind of armor -- all black, with gleaming, glowing circles attached to several points of his body. There were dark tendrils of what looked like smoke circling his arms, his hands. He sheathed his gleaming black blade as he approached you.
He held his hands out, severely scarred, you noticed, palms facing you as he got closer. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” His deep, commanding voice seemed to echo through the now quiet woods.
You couldn’t stop trembling, couldn’t bring your voice to speak.
“What’s your name?” he said softly when he stopped a few feet from you.
You told him, your voice barely above a whisper.
The warrior repeated your name quietly, his hazel eyes softening, then said “I’m Azriel. Are you hurt?”
“I-- I don’t think so.”
Azriel nodded, his eyes scanning your body, as if to confirm it. “What are you doing out here alone?”
You couldn’t help but think that the soft, gentle voice he was now using with you was such a juxtaposition to the fierceness of his armor, his no doubt rock solid body, his massive wings. “I have nowhere to go,” you finally choked out.
His brow furrowed, his eyes swimming with emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Your family?”
You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. The expression on your face seemed to say enough. His jaw tightened as he swallowed.
“Your home?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Destroyed,” you whispered.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, his expression softening as he studied your face. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head, but you couldn’t imagine what he was contemplating.
“Thank you,” you croaked out eventually. “For saving my life.”
You turned to go, not wanting to inconvenience him further, but his hand grasped your wrist. As you turned around, you noticed his demeanor had completely changed. He staggered back a step, still holding onto you, pulling you forward a bit. Where before he was confident and calming, his eyes were now wide, his mouth open in what could only be shock.
“What is it?” you asked.
Azriel shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear it. “Come with me.”
You didn’t try to hide your surprise. “You don’t have to do that, I’ll manage.”
He moved his grip from your wrist to your hand, holding it carefully in his, as he gazed at your face, his eyes pleading. “You won’t survive out here. My home -- it’s safe. You’ll be safe.”
Contemplating this, you tried to weigh your options. You knew he was right, that you wouldn’t make it for much longer alone out here. You could try to make it to another court, but how long would that take? And what would happen to you if you got there? But, his home, the one he claimed was safe… you had never seen anyone like him before. Never seen anyone as intimidating. Finally, you asked. “Who… are you?”
His cheeks dusted red as he seemed to grapple for the right words. “I work for the High Lord of the Night Court,” he said carefully.
Unconsciously, you took a step back, pulling your hand from his grasp.
Azriel’s eyes flared. If you didn’t know better you would think it was panic. “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice steady despite his body language.
“The Night Court?” you felt your heart beating faster. Why did your savior have to be from there, of all places? The only thing worse than these woods would be the Court of Nightmares, where not just the High Lord, but the people were brutal and malicious.
“If you just saw it, you would understand,” he said, taking a careful step towards you again. “I will keep you safe, I swear it.” His eyes remained pleading in a way that you couldn’t comprehend.
“Why?” you asked, trying to make sense of this warrior before you. “Why do you care so much?”
He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. Finally, he said with all the sincerity in the world, “I couldn’t live with myself if I just left you here.”
You sighed, trying to think. As if reading your thoughts he said, “You either trust me or be eaten by something out here.”
He was right. You knew he was. Still, you couldn’t stop the fear that lodged in your throat as you turned back to him and said resignedly, “Okay. Take me with you.”
---
Azriel tried to keep his breathing steady as the two of you made it to the townhouse in Velaris. He knew he would have a lot of explaining to do.
He watched your eyes widen as you took in the sight around you. Children laughing, people walking and talking, seemingly without a care in the world. A bustling city nestled between the mountains of the Night Court.
“Where… are we?” you asked. Your voice had not yet risen to a normal volume in the short time that he had known you.
Azriel didn’t know how much to tell you. He would likely already be in hot water just for bringing you here. “The Night Court,” he said, trying to keep his voice bland. “Sort of.”
You gaped at him.
Azriel winced as you neared the front door. “I hate to do this. But, I need you to wait out here.”
Your eyes only widened. “You’re going to leave me?”
His heart cracked a bit at your words. “It should only be a few minutes. I told you, it’s safe here.”
You scowled, crossing your arms, but finally said, “Okay.”
Azriel nodded once, took a deep breath, and walked inside. Cassian, Feyre, and Rhysand were all in the living room. Rhys was laughing at something Feyre said. All eyes looked to you as you stepped into the threshold.
“You’re back early,” Rhys said.
“I need to talk to you,” Azriel said to Rhysand, his voice sounding off, even to his own ears. “Alone.”
The others looked between the two of you curiously. Rhysand rose, masking his surprise, and gestured to his study.
When they were alone, Azriel didn’t know what to say, how to start. Finally, Rhysand had to say “What’s going on, Az?”
Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “When I got to the Spring Court, there was a woman. Running through the woods, from a bogge.”
“Okay,” Rhys drawled.
“I saved her, obviously. But, Rhys, you should have seen her. She was terrified and alone. I think she’s from the village that Hybern attacked.”
Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Azriel held his gaze. “She’s my mate, Rhys.”
The High Lord swore. “You brought her here, didn’t you?”
“What was I supposed to do? She would’ve died out there.”
Rhysand nodded, processing the information. “It was a risk, bringing her here.”
“I know it was,” Azriel said, unwilling to apologize, not for saving his mate’s life.
Despite the danger Azriel had put them in, Rhysand smiled at his brother. “You found your mate.”
Azriel nodded. He hadn’t really processed the information yet.
“Does she know?” Rhys asked.
“No. She’s going through enough right now.”
Rhysand nodded again. “Just be careful. You know how it went when Feyre found out before I told her.”
“I know.”
“So,” Rhys said, leaning against his desk. “I guess we let her stay in the House of Wind. She can find her own place later, if she wants.”
Azriel breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Really.”
---
True to his word, Azriel was back a few minutes later. You were still shocked, trying to make sense of the day. How could this place be a part of the Night Court?
“I can take you to your room now, if you’re ready,” he said by way of greeting.
“My room?” What, in his house?
“Unless you want a tour of the city first? I figured you’d be tired,” he said naturally, as if he were speaking about the weather.
You couldn’t help but gawk at him. “I get a room?”
“Yes,” he said, as if it were obvious.
“Okay,” you said cautiously. “Sure, let’s go to… my room.”
He cleared his throat, taking a tentative step toward you. “We’ll have to fly.”
You just blinked at him. Surely, he didn’t mean…?
He motioned toward you. “May I?”
Resolved, you said, “At this point, why not?”
The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before carefully, he swept you up in his arms, glancing at your face before flapping his mighty wings, taking the two of you up over the city, toward a large mountain.
You clung to him, your stomach twisting in knots, until he landed gently on a balcony on the top of the mountain.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he set you on the ground.
You nodded, looking past him into the formal dining room inside. “Where are we?”
“This is one of the High Lord’s residences in the city. He doesn’t really stay here with us,” he said, opening the door and leading you inside.
“Us?”
“Me and a few others that you’ll meet. His inner circle.”
Again, you felt that fear spike through your body. The High Lord of the Night Court. His inner circle. What had you gotten yourself into?
As if sensing your fear, he stopped and faced you, looking at you intently. “The stories you’ve heard… they’re not real. At least, not in the context that you think.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to form a response. But, surprisingly, you wanted to trust him, this man who saved your life.
When he realized that you weren’t going to say anything, he cocked his head, motioning for you to follow him through the house. You silently obeyed, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty hallways.
Finally, he stopped before a room, shouldering the door open and gesturing for you to step inside first. It was more lavish than any room you’d seen in your village in the Spring Court. The four poster bed was huge in the center of the room. To the right was a sitting area with two chairs and a couch, cozy looking rugs, and through an open door you could see a washroom. It was more inviting than you had expected.
“Will this be alright?” Azriel asked as you surveyed the room.
You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, this should be just fine.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m just a few doors down, if you need anything.”
“You’re leaving?” you asked, for the second time that day.
Hesitating by the door, he said, “I thought you’d like some time to unwind. I imagine it’s been quite a day for you.”
You nodded, but couldn’t help the pang you felt at being left alone again. Azriel was starting to feel like all you had in the world.
After studying you for a beat, he said, “I can come back in an hour? Give you some time to settle in?”
You couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Okay.”
---
An hour later, Azriel was knocking on your door, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. This morning, he was leaving for the Spring Court to check on how Tamlin had been handling things, and now his mate was staying a few doors down, with no idea where she was or anything about him.
The breath was knocked right out of him as you opened the door. You had changed into leggings and a sweater, the shape of your legs on full display, your hair, slightly damp, was falling loose in ringlets over your shoulders.
An angel, he thought. You looked like an angel.
“I’m glad you gave me that hour,” you admitted, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. Azriel felt faint. “I haven’t had a real bath in ages.”
Clarity struck his brain again at the reminder of what you had been through, how you had been living since the attack on your home. His heart ached for you. He wanted to rip Hybern apart with his bare hands.
“Do you want the tour?” he asked, dumbly, trying to stomp down his emotions,
You agreed, and he led you through the halls, the tug in his chest dazing him. He ached to reach for your hand, to bring your body into his. How had Rhys endured all that time with Feyre, feeling like this?
As you walked through the house, you started asking questions, and Azriel answered to the best of his ability. He told you about Velaris, how secret it was, why it had been kept a secret. The Court of Nightmares, the lies they had to spin. He explained that he was the Night Court’s spymaster, explained his shadows, his shadowsinger abilities, his wings. He didn’t give a ton of details, not wanting to overwhelm you, but not wanting to lie either.
You told him of your past, too. Of your life with your family before Hybern, your cottage, your friends. None of them had survived the attack. Azriel clenched his fists as you spoke, marveling at how kind and reserved you were, despite the horrors that you had been through.
Suddenly, there was a commotion in the direction of the dining room and he winced. He would have to bring you to dinner, to face the entire group. Azriel knew that Rhys had relayed the information by now about his… guest. That was why they had all insisted on coming to dinner, to scope you out.
He felt guilty about keeping you out of the loop, that everyone would know that you were his mate. But you knew how much pressure could be put on females to give into their mates. He would never do that to you, he wanted you to have a choice.
He would just have to wait until you were settled, until you knew that you were safe with him.
You looked at him questioningly, and he simply said, “Are you hungry? It’s almost time for dinner.”
“Dinner…” you trailed off, a question in your eyes.
“With everyone. Yeah.”
Your eyes widened and he couldn’t help himself. He took your hand in his like he did in the woods, what had made the bond snap into place. “It’ll be okay. They’re good people.”
You looked skeptical, but nodded, moving a bit closer to him. He swore he felt his heart miss a beat.
Azriel led you to the dining room, still holding your hand. At the threshold of the room, you dropped his hand and stood behind him, peaking around his shoulder at the loud group. He could tell you were frightened, and wanted desperately to hold you, to take the fear away.
He cleared his throat, catching the attention of everyone in the room. He looked at his friends sternly, willing them to behave, at least for tonight, before he introduced you to them.
You remained behind him, creeping out the littlest bit, placing your hand gently on his bicep. He looked back at you, trying to calm you down like he had in the woods.
“Come on,” he murmured, lightly placing his hand on your arm and guiding you to your seat. You followed, your body taut.
Azriel introduced you to Cassian, Mor, Elain, Nesta, and Amren. You stayed silent, wide eyed, no doubt realizing the power in the people around you. Finally, he gestured to Rhys and Feyre. “And this is the High Lord and Lady.”
Your eyes widened further then, taking in Feyre. “High Lady,” you murmured, in awe.
Right. The High Lady. Feyre was the one who had tore the Spring Court apart from the inside out. Azriel hadn’t even thought of that, and watched your reaction.
Feyre smiled at you kindly and Rhys looked extremely proud. “Honestly, that… that’s amazing. A High Lady,” you repeated. Azriel let out the breath he was holding.
“We sure think so,” Rhys smirked, his eyes sliding warmly to Feyre.
Azriel could feel some of the tension leave your body, and he nearly slumped with relief.
Your reaction seemed to please his friends, too. Azriel couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride.
Throughout the course of dinner, you had remained silent, your doe eyes taking in everything before you. Azriel was hyper aware of you beside him, trying to sense your every reaction.
After dinner, Azriel walked you back to your room, pausing at the door. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“I think I’m okay,” you said. “It’s not what I expected.”
Azriel nodded. “In a good way?”
You smiled lightly up at him. He nearly fell over. “Everyone seems… normal. Like a family.”
Azriel smiled faintly. “They are. We are a family.”
Studying his face, you stayed silent for a moment. “Thank you,” you whispered.
He squeezed your shoulder gently, feeling his heart constrict at your vulnerability. “Sleep well. Come get me if you need anything, okay?”
You nodded, still smiling slightly as you went inside and gently closed the door behind you.
---
Despite your exhaustion, you lay awake, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, your mind spinning. A family. That’s what this was, all of these powerful fae in one room, the mightiest warriors, the most fearsome High Lord… talking and teasing and laughing at dinner.
You had felt Azriel’s eyes on you, gauging your reactions.
Azriel. He was what was truly keeping you up, you thought. The most beautiful man with the scarred hands and the siphons, you had learned, that helped him harness his unbelievable power, the apparently legendary blade at his side. And yet, the way he watched you, the way his voice changed when he spoke to you…
You couldn’t help but trust him, feeling safe next to him. He had saved your life, after all. It was that thought that was wisping through your mind as you finally drifted off to sleep.
---
The first night in your new bed, you had slept through the night once you were finally able to sleep, too exhausted from the events of the day to be chased by monsters in your dreams.
The second night was a different story.
You didn’t even realize you had been screaming until scarred hands were shaking you awake, hazel eyes so close to yours, full of worry and protectiveness, saying your name over and over until your eyes cleared.
Azriel’s fingers were rubbing soothing circles on your shoulders. “It’s okay, you’re safe. It was just a dream,” he said softly, cupping your cheek in his rough hand when you had stopped trembling.
“I’m sorry,” you croaked, tears springing to your eyes.
He gently wiped the tears away with his thumb, not taking his eyes off you for a second. “For what?” his voice was husky from sleep.
“Waking you,” you whispered, captivated by his hands on you, his eyes swimming with emotion.
“Don’t be sorry,” he said gently, his thumb still absently stroking your cheek. “Are you okay?”
You nodded, not trusting your voice to be audible enough for him to hear.
“Do you want -- I can stay. If you want. Until you fall back to sleep,” he said hesitantly. You hadn’t known him long, but you imagined it was rare for him to stumble over his words like this.
“You don’t have to do that,” you said quietly, though you felt your heart swell at the offer. “I appreciate it, but… I’m sure the spymaster needs sleep.”
The corner of his mouth turned up into a faint smile as he pulled back from you, settling in the armchair against the wall. “I’m used to staying up because I’m the spymaster,” he said, humor lining his voice.
“You’ve already done so much for me--”
His voice was still soft, but added a commanding edge as he cut you off. “Sleep, my lady. I don’t mind.”
You considered protesting again, but knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere. And honestly… it did make you feel better to have his comforting presence in the room, chasing away all of your invisible demons.
---
It didn’t take long for your breathing to go steady, lost in a deep sleep. Azriel couldn’t bring himself to leave you yet, though.
The sound of your terrified shrieks ran over and over in his mind. He had been protective of people before, of course, but this. The terror he could feel radiating off of you, the tears streaming down your face, the look in your eyes before you realized where you were… his hands gripped the armrests so tightly that he worried you might not have a chair in your room tomorrow.
He focused on you now: your peaceful face, your hair draped across the pillow, your breathing even. It calmed him down slightly, but not enough.
Azriel wanted to stay. Just to be sure that you were alright, to ensure that he would be able to stop the nightmares before they escalated this time, but he did not want to invade your privacy. He knew that you probably wouldn’t be happy to find him still sitting there in the morning.
So, after you had been sleeping peacefully for quite some time, he dragged himself out of the chair and silently went to his own room, where he could not sleep at all, those screams rattling around in his mind.
---
Azriel stayed by your side for weeks after you arrived in the Night Court, only leaving, seemingly, when he absolutely had to. The two of you would relax in the library, raid the kitchen, wander around the streets in Velaris that seemed endless to you, in the best way. Despite everything that you had heard of the Night Court and its inhabitants, you were starting to feel at home there. Though you still were extremely intimidated by everyone except Azriel, and couldn’t imagine spending time with any one of them if he wasn’t present.
Though you were starting to adjust to your new life, you continued to wake Azriel so consistently with your nightmares that you wondered if you should just offer to let him sleep next to you. Of course, you knew you couldn’t possibly do that. Your cheeks flushed at just the thought. Guilt gnawed at you though, for being the reason for his lack of sleep, so much so that you offered to switch rooms, somewhere further from him, but he would hear none of it. Nearly every night he came into your room, shaking you awake, then soothing you back to sleep. You couldn’t imagine how he was functioning on so little rest.
One night was particularly bad. You dreamt of the attack on your village, the bloodshed you saw, the terror you felt. You knew Azriel could sense that it was worse than usual, as he wouldn’t take his soothing hands from your arms until you had stopped trembling, which took significantly longer than it normally did. His eyes were filled with more worry than you had seen before, and when he pulled away from you, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out and gently grabbing his wrist.
His eyes widened a bit in surprise as he turned back to face you, but he said nothing.
“Can you come here?” Your quiet voice cracked on the last word and his jaw ticked at the sound.
He approached you slowly, like he didn’t want to do the wrong thing. “What can I do?” he murmured.
“Can you -- I mean, would it be too weird…” you flushed, unable to get the words out.
Comprehension flooded his expression and you were so embarrassed that you wanted to take it all back, but then his eyes softened with so much warmth that you wanted to cry. “You want me to lay with you for a bit?”
You bit your lip. “Would you?”
The ghost of a smile. Your heart melted.
You scooched over to the far side of the bed before he settled into next to you, agonizingly slowly. He faced you, propping his cheek on his fist. “Is this okay?”
You could only nod, concealing half your face with your sheets in an attempt to hide how red your cheeks had no doubt become. The heat radiated off his body, his shadows nowhere to be found in the dim light.
He smiled faintly as you looked at him. He murmured, “you have to close your eyes to sleep, you know.”
More heat rose to your cheeks. “You could sleep too. You don’t have to stay up and guard me.”
His smile grew. “Isn’t that literally what I’m here for?”
“You’re here for…” you contemplated how much you should tell him. “Your comforting presence,” you finally said.
“You find my presence comforting?” he said, his voice losing that teasing note he had been using moments before.
“Of course I do,” you said, slightly mesmerized by those hazel eyes that rarely left yours.
His expression was unreadable as he studied you for another moment before laying down and murmuring, “Go to sleep.”
So, you did.
---
Azriel could not sleep.
His mate. His mate, who flooded his thoughts day in and day out, whose tug on him drove him mad every waking moment, was in bed with him. And she had no idea what she was. Or what he desperately wanted to do to her.
Your comforting presence.
The words drifted around his mind ceaselessly. He was willing to bet that his mate was one of the only people who would ever feel that way. Most people feared him, or were at least wary of the near-silent shadowsinger.
But, his mate…
Azriel’s eyes whipped to you as your breathing changed, ready to wake you up again if need be. He watched the rise and fall of your chest carefully, before it evened out again and he relaxed back against the mattress.
He would have to tell you. Soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this, without having any idea how you felt about him.
He thought of you, as he always did lately, when he finally drifted off to sleep.
---
Strong arms were holding you when you awoke. Before you were fully conscious, you snuggled further into the warmth. Mother only knew how long it had been since you had felt that safe.
It wasn’t until you heard the grumble of a sleepy male behind you that your eyes sprung open and you realized where you were. You were in your bed, faint sunlight shining through the curtains. And the shadowsinger was behind you, his arms wrapped around your middle, your bodies flush together, his breath tickling your neck.
You were spooning. Azriel was spooning you.
And he wasn’t awake yet.
Mother above and Cauldron save me.
Should you pull away? You didn’t exactly want to. And it had been so long since he had gotten a good night’s rest, thanks to you.
Selfishly, you couldn’t bear to leave those arms. So, you did what any rational person would do. You pretended you were still asleep and savored the feeling of the strong warrior’s body pressed against yours.
It was a little while later when he shifted and stiffened. He was awake.
Carefully, he untangled himself from you, backing up to where he had started the night. After a moment, you turned around, to face him, feigning grogginess.
He was gazing at you, his expression more open than you had ever seen it. His eyes swimmed with something that looked like longing. Or maybe that’s just what you hoped it was.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep. It made your toes curl beneath the sheets.
“I slept really well, actually,” you said, honestly. “Did you get to sleep?”
He nodded, his expression smoothing back to that unreadable blankness.
“Thank you for staying,” you said softly. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Azriel’s eyes softened. “I don’t know what I would do without you, either.”
You sat up a bit, propping yourself up on one elbow. “Me? What do you mean?”
He furrowed his brow, as if he were contemplating whether to tell you something or not.
“Is something wrong?” you asked.
He swallowed, his jaw clenched slightly. “There’s something I should tell you.”
You just waited, gazing at that beautiful face.
Taking a deep breath, his eyes not wavering from yours, he said, “That day, when I touched you in the woods, I realized that you’re my mate.”
If you weren’t in your bed, you’re sure you would have fallen over. Your heart started pounding and you sat up fully, now very aware of the thin night clothes you were wearing.
Azriel sat up too, studying, trying to gauge your reaction.
“That’s why you were so adamant about bringing me with you,” you said quietly, your mind reeling.
He nodded. “To be fair, I might have done that anyway, but… yes. I couldn’t leave you there.”
You watched his hazel eyes looking back at you. You had been right before, you could see that now. He wanted you. Longed to be close to you.
“That’s why I feel so connected to you,” you whispered, noting that tug in your chest that is always leading you to him. “Why you always make me feel so safe.”
His expression flooded with emotion. “You really feel that way around me?”
“Of course I do. Since the very beginning,” you said, inching closer to him, so your legs were almost touching. You couldn’t quite believe it.
Azriel was your mate. The sweet, mysterious, strong spymaster from the Night Court who saved your life. Who had given you a home.
He was your home, you realized with a start.
“Are you…happy?” Azriel asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.
He had been worried, you realized. Worried that you would be upset, or wouldn’t return his feelings.
Without a word, you leaned forward, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him.
You felt the relief rush through his body as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you to him. You settled on his lap, straddling him, deepening the kiss.
He moaned quietly into your mouth as he slipped his tongue inside and you tightened your grip on him, raking your nails down his back. You felt his hardness pressing against your leg, and flushed at that feeling of being wanted.
His rough hands trailed up your bare thighs, toying with the hem of your nightdress. He stopped kissing you long enough to pull back, a silent question in his eyes. You nodded, smiling, and kissed him fiercely before he slowly pulled the dress up and over your head, his eyes raking your body, now completely bare save for your underwear.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling, before he kissed sensually down your neck. Then lower and lower…
You gasped as he took your nipple in his mouth, biting gently before soothing over the peak with his tongue.
“Azriel,” you moaned, and he growled in response, tightening an arm around your waist and flipping you onto your back, pressing your body into the mattress with his.
“You never answered my question,” he said, his voice husky, desperate. He toyed with one of your breasts while he devoured your neck, biting and licking and kissing.
“What… what was the question?” you panted, your mind spinning.
He laughed into your skin, low and sensual, making your back arch. “Are you happy?”
You took your face in his hands, guiding him to look at you. His fingers stopped, his eyes open and yearning. “I’m home, Az. You’re my home. I’ve never been happier.”
His smile lit up his entire face, and he kissed you sweetly. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he murmured.
He continued kissing you slowly and lovingly before the two of you got heated again. You tugged at his shirt and he helped you peel it off. He leaned against you, and you reveled in the feeling of his skin against yours, the feel of his muscled back under your fingers.
Your breath got stuck in your throat as he kissed down your body while sliding your panties down your legs, eventually settling his face in between your legs, his mouth hovering an inch from where you needed him.
“Az,” you groaned, twining your fingers in his hair.
You could’ve sworn you heard a soft grunt before his mouth connected with your center and you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming.
“We’re the only ones here, you know,” he said, eyeing you mischievously, sliding a finger into you while his mouth was occupied.
“Meaning?” you panted.
He smirked, sliding another finger into you. You gasped, your back arching off the mattress. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he said, his voice velvet.
Before you could react, he ducked his head back down, sucking hard on your clit, while pumping his fingers in and out of you.
You couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from you, tugging at his hair, pulling him further into you.
Laughing into your skin, he splayed his free hand over your stomach to stop your squirming and continued devouring you.
Eventually, you needed more. “Azriel?”
“Hmm?” he hummed against you, his mouth still working.
“If you don’t take your pants off right now, I might die,” you said, your voice breathy.
He finally took his mouth off you, leaning his head back and laughing louder than you’d ever seen from him. The sound was deep, filling the room. It made your heart swell.
Sliding off the bed, his eyes laser focused on you, he said “I suppose I can’t allow that, can I?”
He held your gaze as he slowly slid his pants off. When he was naked before you, he stalked towards you, his eyes predatory.
You gulped, trying not to show how surprised you were at the size of him.
Azriel was smirking, more smug than you’d ever seen him. He placed his elbows on either side of your head, hovering over you. “Was there something you wanted?” he teased as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t budge.
You scowled at him and he grinned. “You know what I want,” you groaned.
He cocked his head, feigning ignorance.
“You were so much nicer before,” you mumbled, still trying and failing to pull his muscled body on top of yours.
Leaning his lips down so they were hovering just over yours, he whispered, “I want you to say it.”
Your mouth fell open. “I can’t,” you squeaked.
He smirked. “I’m your mate. You can tell me anything.”
Sighing, you looked to the ceiling, unable to look him in the eyes. “I want you.”
“You already have me,” he said, lightly nipping at your throat. “What do you want me to do?”
“Azriel.”
He laughed lightly. “Okay, fine. I’ll just have to take a guess then.”
Before you could respond, he slid into you, groaning as he did so.
He leaned his forehead against yours, forcing you to look up at him. He gave you a moment to adjust to him, saying “Did I guess correctly?”
Biting your lip, you nodded and he grinned.
“Ready for more?”
You groaned in response, unable to speak.
Slowly, he started moving in and out of you. The two of you moaned in unison.
He groaned, “You feel --”
“So good,” you finished, and he let out a breathy laugh, moving his hips faster.
Azriel was gazing at you with so much love and affection as he was thrusting into you, you could barely breathe. You placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss. He smiled against your mouth, his breathing ragged.
You couldn’t believe you had eternity to do this with your mate.
---
Azriel did not leave your bedroom that day. Frankly, he never wanted to leave it again.
He knew he probably could’ve kept going long into the night, but he could tell that you needed a break, so the two of you had settled against the pillows. You were now asleep, your head on his chest, your fingers lightly gripping his waist.
His heart swelled as he lightly ran his fingers through your hair, savoring the feeling of being in love and having you close to him.
Summary: Reader and Cassian have been friends for centuries, but nobody knows that she’s in love with him. Eventually she meets her mate in the market, but when he breaks her heart, Cassian is there to pick up the pieces, and offer her a second chance at love.
Based on this request! 🩷
Warnings: Swearing
Word Count: 4.5k
Cassian snickered as he landed on top of you, effectively pinning you beneath him.
You grunted, “Okay, you win. Get off.”
He cocked his head, grinning. “I don’t know, this is pretty comfy.”
“You’ve proven your point,” you groaned, your head throbbing from hitting it on the ground of the training ring on top of the House. You tried to wiggle out from under him, but it was no use. He was massive, and your body was rendered utterly immobile.
After another torturous moment, Cassian stood up, offering you his hand. He hoisted you up to your feet and you groaned again.
“What were you saying about being able to beat me one-on-one?” he smirked.
You just scowled at him and his smile spread further. He clapped you on the back. You winced at the impact. “Go get some water.”
Normally you would say something snarky about following orders, but your head was still spinning a bit, so you did as you were told without argument.
You must have looked pretty awful because after a few minutes, Cassian knelt in front of where you sat on the bench, his eyes searching yours. “You okay?”
Nodding as you gulped down more water, you mumbled, “Mmhmm.”
His brow furrowed as he gently felt the back of your head, feeling the growing bump there. “Shit,” he said. “I didn't mean to pin you down that hard. Sorry.”
You shrugged, smiling faintly at your friend. “I knew I couldn’t beat you. It’s my own fault.”
He lightly brushed the hair that had come out of your braid off your face. You pushed down the swell in your chest, as you always did. “I think it’s time for the cool down,” he said, his eyes raking your sweaty, tired body.
Your eyes widened. “You, the legendary commander of the Illyrian armies, are going to cut training short because you knocked me on my ass?”
“Only for you,” he winked, offering you his hand again. “Don’t tell anyone.”
You took it, and followed Cassian as he guided you through the stretches.
This had been your routine for a while. You had been in Rhysand’s inner circle for the last few centuries, and had found your home and family with them. Pretty quickly, you knew you wanted to be useful for more than just your mind, so you had asked Cassian to train you. You had started out at the Illyrian camps, but the way the males there treated you was…unsettling, to say the least. And it made Cassian angrier than you had ever seen him. So now you trained on the top of the House, sometimes accompanied by others, but often it was just the two of you.
Training with him nearly every day for centuries had brought the two of you very close together. He was definitely the best friend you had ever had. He was your favorite person in the world. The two of you talked about everything.
Well, almost everything.
Even after all this time, butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you watched him, how his muscles stretched and bulged, his brow furrowed in concentration, his tanned skin gleaming with sweat in the morning sun.
You had been in love with him for a very, very long time.
Frankly, it sucked being in love with your best friend. Your best friend, who flirted shamelessly with nearly everybody, who had a body even the gods were surely jealous of. Who was so kind and good and brave that nobody could ever compare.
Especially not you.
That was the main problem, really. Why you had never said anything. You knew you could never deserve him, no matter how long you lived. He was legendary. Literally. He was strong, fearless, and so, so kind. And not to harp on this too much but, that body. Compared to him, you were entirely insignificant and you always would be.
So, you suffered in silence. Loved him from afar. And waited for the Mother or the Cauldron or whoever it was that was in charge of your fate and your mate to get their act together.
“What’s running through that pretty head of yours?” Cassian said, glancing over at you.
You reigned in your scowl. Centuries of friendship made it extremely easy for him to read you like a book. “I’m debating whether I hate you for pinning me to the ground like it was nothing, or if I love you for cutting training short,” you said, breathless as you continued to follow him through the stretches.
He smirked. “Oh, please. You know you love me.”
Rolling your eyes goodnaturedly you grumbled, “Yeah, I know.”
If only he knew.
---
Inner circle meetings these days were about twenty percent important business, and eighty percent goofing off.
You loved it.
Seated between Azriel and Amren, with Cassian across from you, you grinned as the warrior picked a fight with Amren.
Azriel and you exchanged amused glances, both knowing that Cassian had never won against Amren, and he certainly wouldn’t start today.
After they had been squabbling for quite some time about something that you honestly weren’t paying super close attention to, Amren turned to you, snarling, “Can you please tell him he’s a fool?”
Cassian sat back in his chair, clutching his chest, making a great show of being offended.
“Why me?” you asked.
“He actually listens to you,” Amren said, pointedly raising an eyebrow.
You snorted. “He does not.”
Azriel cut in, smiling faintly. “He does. More than the rest of us, anyway.”
You glanced at Cassian, who just smirked back at you. “What can I say? She’s obviously the smartest one here.”
This, of course, started a whole new round of insults from Amren that left Cassian chuckling to himself, his eyes sparkling as he gazed at you through the entire barrage of Amren’s insults.
Later, you and Cassian were lounging in the sitting room at the House of Wind, after everyone else had wandered off home or gone to bed.
You were laying down on the couch, reading a book. Cassian was sitting at the far end of said couch, your feet in his lap while he read up on war strategies.
It was only a matter of time before the romance novel that you were reading got… steamy.
Cassian immediately noticed the shift in your scent and threw his head back laughing. “Why do you read smut in front of people?”
You kicked his chest lightly, which only made him laugh more. “It’s not like I know when the smutty scenes are going to happen!”
“This one really got to you, huh?” he said, noticing the blush that had risen to your cheeks.
Before you could stop him, he lunged for you, grabbing your book and wrenching it from your hands.
“Noo!” you shrieked, and covered your face in embarrassment as he read aloud.
“His weight on top of me was nearly enough for me to come undone,” he said in a deep, sultry voice. “I couldn’t focus on anything but the power and command in his movements as he grasped both my wrists in one hand and pinned them to the bed above my head.”
You couldn’t stand it anymore. You grabbed for the book, but he was faster and caught you as you moved toward him. His arm wrapped around your waist and he spun you, pinning you to the couch, his weight holding you down for the second time that day.
But, this time was… different. Your bodies were completely flush together, every inch of you touching him. His hair tickled your neck as he looked down at you, your faces a fraction away from each other.
The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, breathing hard. You could smell it on him too now, the lust. In this moment, he wanted you. You knew he did. Heat went through you in a wave.
And he knew it.
“This is what you’re into, huh?” he said huskily.
You glared at him, but you knew the lust was still shining in your eyes.
He smirked. “Is that why you baited me during training today? You wanted to feel me on top of you?”
Yes. “No!” You scowled, pushing his shoulders, but he didn’t move. “I baited you because I wanted to see how long I would last.”
Cassian’s smirk turned positively wolfish, his eyes gleaming in a way you’d never seen before.
You groaned, realizing what you just said. “Not like that.” You pushed against him again. “Get off of me, Cassian!”
He dipped his head lower, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Are you sure you want me to?” he said, his voice low, sultry. You could hardly breathe.
No, of course I don’t want you to. I want to stay here forever and ever.
“Yes,” you ground out.
His lips darted to your lips for the briefest moment before he pushed off of you, sitting on his knees. After a moment, he handed the book to you.
“I hate you,” you mumbled.
He smirked. “No, you don’t.”
You couldn’t stop your small smile. “No, I don’t.”
---
For days, you felt rattled by what happened that night. Cassian, of course, seemed relaxed as ever, but you felt yourself blush every time you were around him.
You were in the market, your thoughts lost in Cassian as usual, when someone across the street caught your eye.
He was beautiful. The very definition of tall, dark, and handsome. You felt drawn to him in a way you had never felt before, not even with Cassian.
You stopped in your tracks, unable to take your eyes off him.
After a few moments, he looked up and your eyes met.
And you felt it.
The mating bond that snapped into place. That tethered you permanently to this stranger.
And judging from the look in his eyes, he felt it too.
The stranger made his way over to you, his eyes not wavering from yours.
“Hi,” he said when he was in front of you, like he was in a daze.
“Hi,” you said. “You… felt that too, right?”
He nodded. “I never knew what they meant… what it was supposed to feel like…” he trailed off, just staring at you. “I'm Adonis.”
You introduced yourself and didn't know what to do next. For centuries, you had dreamed of the day that you'd meet your mate. But secretly, you had been waiting for the bond to snap into place with Cassian. You hadn't thought about what you would do if it turned out to be a random stranger.
“Do you… want to go for a walk?” Adonis said, clearly equally unsure of what one was supposed to do upon meeting their mate.
You agreed. And just like that, you were getting to know your mate.
---
You found Rhys, Feyre, and Cassian all in Rhysand's study at the river house. They looked at you questioningly as you walked in.
“Are you okay?” Cassian asked, his voice soft, the way it always was when he was worried about you. “You look… weird.”
“I met my mate today,” you said quietly.
Feyre and Rhysand looked ecstatic. Cassian, though, went perfectly still, his skin turning slightly pale.
“What happened? Who is he?” Feyre asked, her eyes wide in excitement.
You shrugged, briefly explaining how you and Adonis met.
“What's he like?” Rhys asked. “Do you like him?”
“I think so?” You said, noticing how Cassian was still as a statue. “I don't know, it's weird. I feel this tug towards him but I don't know anything about him! I mean, he seems… nice.”
Cassian finally unfroze, to look incredulously at you. “Nice?” He repeated. “That's it? Your mate is nice?”
“We went on a walk and yes, he seems nice,” you blanched, feeling like you should defend your mate but not sure how.
Your friends just stared at you, clearly underwhelmed by your declaration.
“What do I do now?” You asked nobody in particular.
“You keep getting to know him,” Rhys said, lovingly wrapping an arm around Feyre.
You glanced at Cassian, who suddenly seemed very interested in the carpet.
“Okay,” you said.
Really, what else could you do?
---
Your relationship with Cassian had felt off ever since you and Adonis had started to get to know each other better.
He still trained you every day, but where he used to be bantering and joking around with you, he was now all business, keeping his physical distance from you.
It was confusing, having to grapple with your ancient feelings for him and these new blooming ones for your mate.
After a few weeks of weirdness, you finally snapped. “Did I do something to upset you?” You asked as both of you stretched after a particularly grueling workout.
“No,” he grunted. “Why?”
“You've been acting weird for weeks.”
He glanced at you, his eyes guarded. “No, I haven't.”
“Yes you have, Cass. You've barely talked to me,” you tried to hide the pain in your voice. You didn't want him to know how deeply this ran.
Cassian sighed, pausing his stretching to face you, look you in the eye. “You’re right, I'm sorry. I just… I'm sad, I guess. I've been your number one for centuries and now…” he pushed his hair out of his face. “Things are different now.”
You took a step toward him, your heart cracking. “Is that what you think? Cassian, no matter who my mate is, you'll always be my best friend. And… I could really use my best friend right now.”
Guilt clouded his expression. “I'm sorry. I've been a shitty friend,” he said quietly, moving forward and wrapping you in a tight bear hug. “Are you okay?”
Sighing with relief, leaning into his touch, you said, “I don't know. I'm really excited, obviously, that I finally found him. And I do like him. But I'm also… scared.”
He pulled back to look you in the eye. “Scared? Why?”
“What if he doesn't like me?” You asked quietly. You hadn't been able to voice your fears to anybody else.
Cassian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you even think that? Who wouldn't like you?”
I can think of at least one person, you thought, but shoved it down.
You shrugged, not sure what to say.
He murmured your name, moving to gently hold your face in his hands. “He'd be insane to not like you. I mean it.”
Warmth spread through you at his touch, the softness in his voice. “Thanks, Cassian,” you murmured.
Cassian kissed your forehead, then pulled you back into a crushing hug. “Anytime.”
---
Your gut was a bundle of nerves as you met with Adonis again. The two of you had been getting to know each other for the last few weeks, and while you didn't yet feel an electric shock, you were thrilled to have found your mate.
When Adonis showed up though, your nerves only got worse. The look on his face could only mean that he was about to deliver bad news.
The two of you made your way through awkward small talk until he braced his forearms on the table in front of him, and you knew he was about to get down to business.
“So, look. I know we're mates, and I do feel that bond between us, but I can't help but think that maybe the Cauldron was wrong,” he said casually, as if he were telling you it was going to rain later.
Your heart completely plummeted. You tried to maintain your breathing, keep your voice even. “Why do you think that?”
“The attraction’s just not there,” he said matter of factly.
Mind spinning, you repeated, “the… attraction?”
He nodded, like it was obvious.
“You're saying, you think the Cauldron was wrong… because you're not attracted to me.”
“Yes! I'm so glad you get it,” he smiled.
You just looked at him incredulously. “You're serious?”
“Yes?” He raised his eyebrow in question.
“So, you're… you're rejecting the bond?”
“I think that would be best. Don't you?”
You narrowed your eyes, trying to keep your rising fury locked down. “With the way you're acting right now? Actually, yes, I do think it would be best. You're a terrible person,” you stated, determined to keep your tears from falling until you could make it home.
His eyes narrowed, glaring at you.
And right then, you felt it. Despite your anger, it was still painful to have the bond rejected. It felt like you were being torn apart from the inside out, ripping your very being to shreds.
You gripped the table, centuries of training your body and your mind was the only thing that kept you from crying out as the bond broke.
Adonis felt it too, you knew, because he had gone pale as a ghost, his body trembling slightly.
When the pain had subsided enough, you pushed away from the table, walking home without a backwards glance.
---
You were supposed to meet Cassian for dinner at the House, but you couldn't bear it. You went to your own apartment instead, laying in your bed in the fetal position for what was probably hours, tears streaming down your cheeks until your head was pounding and your eyes were burning.
It was awful, this feeling. How could he be your mate? How could someone like that be who the Mother wanted you with?
Would you never be good enough for anyone?
And now your hopes of finding a mate were gone forever. Everyone knew that you only got one chance, one mate.
Why did yours have to be so awful?
A knock on your door roused you from your spiraling thoughts.
You just groaned, knowing that Cassian could hear it.
The door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps as he found you in your bed.
He grimaced as soon as he saw the state of you, his eyes flooding with concern. Instantly he was by your side, kneeling in front of you, holding your hand. “What is it?” He asked, his voice soft despite the tautness of his body.
Your voice came out as barely more than a croak. “He rejected the bond.”
Cassian's rage was palpable, filling the room. “What?”
Ashamed, you hid your face in your pillows. You couldn't tell him why. Didn't have the words in you, and you didn't want him to know how much it hurt.
He swore under his breath, then crawled into bed with you, gingerly wrapping his arms around you, holding you close. You buried your face in his chest, breathed in the scent of him. It almost broke your heart even more, knowing he would never feel for you what you felt for him.
His fingers drew small, soothing circles on your back for a long moment until he broke the silence again. “What happened?” He said quietly.
It was a long time before you could answer. But you knew that if you could tell anyone in the world, it would be him. “He's not attracted to me,” you whispered.
Cassian's entire body tensed, his grip on you tightening. “He said that?” He said with lethal calm.
“He did,” you croaked as another tear slid down your cheek.
“I'm going to slaughter him,” he growled, his body trembling as he sat up, taking you with him. “I'm going to rip his skin off his bones--”
He had moved you so you were straddling him, your hands on his shoulders. “No, you won't,” you said gently.
“Why shouldn't I?” He spat, his eyes dark, his hands gripping your waist so hard, it would surely leave a bruise.
“It wouldn't solve anything,” you said sadly.
Cassian buried his hand in the hair at the back of your head, forcing you to hold his gaze. “You listen to me. He is wrong. He is awful. You are so beautiful. You are so strong and kind and incredible. Do not let him get to you, okay? This is his loss, not yours,” he said, his eyes locked on yours, alight with so much emotion, your eyes welled with tears again.
He pursed his lips, his eyes softening as he pulled you into him again. You cried into his chest. “Why would the Mother do this to me? Why would she choose him?”
“I don't know,” he said sadly, running his hands through your hair gently. “I don't know. Maybe she made a mistake.”
You sniffed. “I don’t know what to do.”
He kissed your head softly. “You lean on the people who love you. And then you try to move on.”
You cried even harder, and he held you and held you until your sobs diminished and you drifted off to sleep.
---
Cassian barely left your side in the following weeks, his hands always on you, comforting you. Even when he had to go to the Illyrian mountains, he brought you with him.
It always did something to you, seeing him in command of all those soldiers. His face stern, his body rigid, barking orders at everyone. Despite all the awful things that had happened recently, it still made your toes curl in your boots.
But even you could only brave the cold for so long to watch Cassian be in command, so you eventually wandered into Rhysand’s mother’s house, a roaring fire already ablaze when you arrived.
You sat in front of it, warming your hands, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.
Weeks after the disastrous meeting with your mate, you were finally starting to feel like yourself again, like other things in life mattered more than the jerk who hurt you.
It was mostly Cassian’s steady, comforting presence that had helped you return to yourself, his relentless insistence that you keep up with your training, that you don’t break your routine no matter how much your heart hurt.
Cassian had been what was keeping you together for a long time, you realized.
It was this thought that he interrupted, swinging the door open loudly, the snow billowing in behind him. After he had closed the door behind him, you heard his heavy footfalls stop dead in their tracks behind you.
You turned to look at him in confusion, and then you felt it.
A bond snapped into place.
A bond that somehow, after all this time, linked you to Cassian.
Your heart began pounding in your chest, your head spinning. “What--”
Before you could finish the thought, he was on top of you, pinning you to the ground, his lips on yours. You always forgot how quickly he could move, how he could be across the room in the blink of an eye with ease.
A moan sounded from you involuntarily as he cupped your cheek gently with his rough hand, his other on the floor next to your head, keeping some of his body weight off you so you wouldn’t be crushed. This seemed to spur him on even more, his tongue delving into your mouth immediately after you had opened your mouth to him.
“I knew it,” he groaned, kissing your cheeks, your neck, “I knew it should’ve been me.”
“Cassian,” you gasped, unable to process what was happening, what he just said--
He growled, kissing you again deeply, rocking his hips against yours.
You hated yourself for doing it, especially since you had been dreaming of this very moment for centuries, but you also needed a moment to think, to process.
“Cassian, wait,” you said breathlessly, putting your hand on his chest.
He halted immediately, pulling back to hover over you. “I’m sorry-”
“No, it’s okay,” you said, smiling to reassure him. He was breathing hard, his eyes locked on yours, trying to decipher if he had done something wrong, you knew. “I mean -- we should definitely continue that later, I just… I don’t understand.”
Cassian rose from on top of you, sitting up. You followed, sitting up to face him. “We’re mates,” he said with a soft smile, his eyes shining. “You and me,” he shook his head in disbelief.
“I thought you could only have one mate? I thought that was it…” you trailed off, unable to form the words.
He shrugged, grinning. “I guess the Mother decided to give you another chance.”
All you could do was stare at him in disbelief.
Cassian was actually your mate. Cassian.
His brow furrowed, his expression flooding with fear. “Are you upset?”
You couldn’t help but laugh. You gazed at him, at your beautiful, incredible mate. “Cassian, I’ve been in love with you for centuries. I’ve never been happier in my life.”
He made a choking sound. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
You bit your lip, pondering how much to tell him. He took your hand in his, scooching closer, hanging on your answer. Finally you leveled your gaze with his. “I don’t deserve you.”
His face contorted in anger then, a look that had never been directed at you before. “Why would you ever think that?”
Incredulously, you gestured to him. “Are you kidding? Look at you! You’re the commander of the Illyrian armies, they’ve literally written about your war tactics in the history books, you’re one of six people in centuries to actually reach Ramiel, you’re so kind and good and--”
Cassian’s lips were on yours before you could continue. “I love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I love you so much.”
Your heart melted at his words and at his touch. After a few moments, he pulled back to look at you again. “Never say that you’re not good enough ever again. You’ve been in Rhysand's inner circle for centuries for a reason. How do you not see how incredible you are?”
All you could get out was, “You love me?”
He laughed, the deep sound practically bouncing off the walls, before his expression softened, gazing at you lovingly. “Of course I love you. I was acting so weird after you met Adonis because I had never been so fucking jealous in my life,” he said quietly, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’ve wished that you were mine for a long, long time.”
You launched yourself at him and he was ready for you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you kissed him. He laughed against your mouth, holding your body against his.
Soon, you were completely tangled together, losing yourselves in each other.
Hours later, you were laying on the floor in front of the fire, your legs entwined together, your head on Cassian's chest, his arms around you.
“After all this time,” you murmured, lost in the memories of all your lonely nights, now knowing that Cassian had felt the same way you did.
He kissed the top of your head. “I'm just glad the Mother finally helped us get together,” he chuckled.
“Me too,” you agreed. “We owe her a lot.”
“We owe her everything,” he said quietly, leaning in to kiss you again.
You snuggled closer into him, relishing the thought that you would never again be alone.
Summary: When an unexplainable energy pulls the Inner Circle to barge into the Day court, they're all shocked at what they find. But it's Azriel who can't help wonder if his dreams have finally been answered.
“I hadn’t meant to hide this from you Rhysand,” Helion’s usual warm tone was replaced with something sterner, bolder— unwavering.
A breeze pulled on your skirt, the floaty material rippling under the wind. It was always warm in Day, but now, with the appearance of uninvited guests, there was a coldness in the air you hadn’t experienced before.
A bite that pulled at your skin raising goosebumps across your arms.
You guessed this reaction wasn’t a rare occurrence when facing the Night Courts Inner Circle.
Helion shifted his weight, his body stood in front of yours in a protective manner. A nervousness emitted from his energy, an emotion that actually seemed strange to even be associated with him.
Helion wasn’t the nervous type. Charming and flirtatious, bold and defiant— not nervous.
Helion pushed his shoulders back, his stance flexing against the shadowy group that had just arrived.
They had shaken him.
Perhaps you were naive to think these people wouldn’t, naive to believe you could live your life quietly. Slip through the cracks. Go unnoticed. No you were not destined for that, as much as your dear friend may have wanted that for you.
So if a quiet life was not meant to be, then you would at least claim it as yours.
With a light step you moved from behind Helion to his side, coming into full view of the group who had appeared unannounced in the courtyard. Your hand came to Helion’s gently, giving him a soft squeeze and light smile that stretched to your eyes.
How they had gotten through Day Courts shields didn’t come as a surprise really. Helion had divulged how powerful the High Lord of the Night Court was. That if he really wanted to take them all down, then Helion suspected in that unrelenting pit of power Rhys probably could.
But despite this power, Rhys had never ravaged control over the land. Helion was fond of Rhys and his family, they were allies. Perhaps he would even consider them friendly.
And yet Helion hadn’t told them about you.
Energies and rhythms rippling from their bodies, all with their own melody of colours unique to them floated toward you. Your eyes scanned over their features quickly, reading their expressions, the tight lines their faces made before one look pulled you to a hasty stop.
A hazel lock held you tightly as a males gaze ensnared you.
Golden rays broke through a midnight blue aura, trapping you in a moment that seemed to expand and retract all at once. He was the most beautiful male you’d ever laid eyes on, and it took every ounce of will power to pull your gaze from his.
There was a simmering at the pit of your stomach, something familiar and warm, and you swore you could hear singing—
“She is like us.” A girl from the back of the crowd spoke, beautiful and sweet. Elain, you assumed. Her aura, one that resembled sunlight radiating in golden flicks. If you hadn’t known who she was you’d had assumed she was a Day court resident from her glow alone.
Elain stepped forward, another girl stepping beside her as if they’d both been pulled by the same magnetic pulse to the front of the group.
This girl. This girl was Nesta. You were sure of it. That silver flickering aura licked at her skin, an energy so similar and yet so different to her sisters.
“Hm..no not exactly like us…” Elain seemed to mutter, more to herself than anyone else. Her eyes scanning you as she tried to get a read, try and decipher what had pulled her here in the first place.
Why you had pulled them here.
“Something other.” Nesta spoke.
You don’t think she’d actually intended for it to sound so venomous, but the words had snapped like poison. You noticed how for a split second there was a softeness in her energy. Whether she was regretful of her tone or not, you had flinched at the word.
Other.
Hm. Perhaps that was the best way to describe you.
Elain glanced at her sister, her face not changing as she digested Nesta’s words. There was a shuffling behind them, only slight and small. Would barely be noticeable if it wasn’t so hard for you not to notice.
Him.
His scarred fingers twitched at his sides, shadows swirling around them as they peered over those giant black membranes that were drawn in at his back. A tattoo creeped up the side of his neck, peeking through his shirt as you followed up to his jaw. Black leather’s covered his body, blue siphons shimmering under the setting sun. You tried so hard not to let your eyes wander back, but as though you had no control you gaze landed on his again.
Only to find he was already staring.
Azriel.
Helion had mentioned him to you before and you recalled how you had rolled the name a few times in your mouth. The name feeling so foreign and familiar all at once.
“Not cauldron-made, no not quite.” Elain had turned her attention back to you.
You had stepped forward now, stepped out from the shadow of Helion.
Stepped out to face what you had been avoiding.
“You are Cauldron-born.”
✵
“Would you like to join us for some tea?” Your response had been after Elain’s heavy statement.
Your words coming out in a flurry to cut through the heaviness in the air. Despite being outside it felt stifling. Several eyes piercing into you. You could almost hear the way they were trying to decipher you— breakdown what Elain had said.
You hadn’t allowed them the time. Quickly offering them tea, as you glanced at the small set up you and Helion had come to the courtyard to enjoy.
It was only a matter of moments before more furniture was erected and began the awkward silence while the piping pot of tea began to simmer to a cool.
Your hands were scrunched up in your skirt, fists full of fabric on your lap being an obvious tell of unease to those who knew what to look for. A strained smile was forced to your lips, expression light and brows arched in apprehension as you watched the uninvited guests silently take sips of tea.
With a quick sideways glance you gave Helion a nervous smile, your lips wobbling as you took a sharp inhale. Helion responded with a gentle pat of your head, his large hand coming to ruffle your hair while a lazy smiled adorned his lips.
His energy finally shifting to one you recognised more, warm and teasing. He was relaxed again. Whatever shock the inner circle had originally caused, Helion now seemed...somewhat nonchalant.
That should have been reassuring, but the tension in your muscles didn't want to relax.
“This is y/n,” Helion finally spoke, addressing the people who had barged into his court.
At the revelation of a name, the inner circle cast their attention solely on you.
“These are my friends y/n, I’ve told you about them already. We had anticipated your arrival at some point,” he continued giving a knowing look to Rhys.
Your eyes scanned the expressions of the five people in front of you.
Rhys, Amren, Nesta, Elain and of course Azriel. Not the whole inner circle, no there were members missing. But Helion had done such a great job at explaining them to you, that it really wasn’t difficult to figure out who was who.
“It’s l-lovely to meet you all,” you managed out, voice falling softer than you had hoped. Your own eyes gently moving across them all before flitting to the shadowy presence that remained stood behind the Night Courts High Lord.
Azriel.
Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court.
You couldn’t seem to stop yourself from looking, among all the noise he sung the sweetest. His energy, amongst those swirling smoke coloured tendrils was the most beautiful display you had ever seen. Not the most powerful by any means, Rhysand and Helion’s outshone his aura in many ways but his was the most enticing— at least to you.
Composure wasn’t something Azriel usually lacked, but after hearing the softness of your voice fill the warm evening air he had to collect himself entirely.
From the moment he’d set his eyes on you, he couldn’t ignore the feeling in the depths of his chest. Maybe if you hadn’t been the cause of it, he’d have assumed there was something wrong with his heart.
Azriel noticed the way your fingers nervously picked at your skirt, fists tight with the material as you sat up straight beside Helion. As if your posture would bring a confidence you were clearly lacking.
He could sense it, your unease, nervousness. Picked up on it before even his shadows could whisper it to him.
Nervous, nervous, nervous.
He blinked them away. He already knew.
Pretty.
Another whispered. He already knew that too.
Pretty was putting it plainly though. You were breathtaking.
Azriel wanted to reassure you. Comfort the anxiety he could tell you were drowning in. It was such a strange sensation, to feel this connection so deeply with someone he’d never met before, that Azriel couldn’t help but question why.
Azriel allowed himself to consider that perhaps something he’d been dreaming of for so long was finally his.
That feeling, the ache in his chest you caused— was almost painfully lovely. He swore this was exactly how his brothers had described it to him.
Azriel found himself allowing the smallest curve spread to the edge of his lips, a gentle, secret smile. Just for you.
A smile that softened your own forced expression to something more relaxed and genuine.
For a moment it felt as though it was just you two. The noise and vibrations of everyone else seemed to fade. An embrace of cobalt and hazel filling you with a warmth that felt so familiar.
“But Elain is correct. Y/n is cauldron-born.” Helion’s voice broke the trance you both seemed to be in.
Your nervousness from before simmering hotter.
“It cannot be,” Amren declared, disbelief tinging her tone as her gaze pierced into you.
“You think I lie?” Helion challenged.
“How do you know for sure?” Rhys pressed back, an uncertainty in his tone.
“Because I know you all feel it too,” Helion’s voice was deep, a gleam in his eye as he turned to you proudly.
“She is the Mother’s daughter.”
A statement. Even more bold than Elain’s settled a silence across the courtyard. This time it wasn’t stifling, their energy shifting to something of awe, admiration and then devotion.
In one quick movement a figure dropped to their knees. Head pressing to the cool stone ground.
Amren had bowed before your feet.
And Amren bowed to no one.
a/n: Okay I know this a whole lot more of elusive-ness and I'm sorry, I just thought sharing this little bit more is better than nothing at all. I wanted to flesh this first out properly so here's the full part one! I've been so swamped with work and inspiration struck this evening so I quickly wrote this in my notes. I promise I will eventually finish it, even if it's just little updates here and there. I'm hoping maybe 2 more parts, so it'll be a nice little mini-series!
I also took it upon myself to try and tag everyone who commented and reblogged because you all seemed very invested so didn't want you to miss this installment even if it is tiny<3
Oh my god you did it again. It is even better than I imagined it could be, and I knew it was going to be AMAZING!!!!! I LOVE the bits of hints. The golden hues in his aura, the feeling in their chest, the connection, the PULL! “It was such a strange sensation, to feel this connection so deeply with someone he’d never met before, that Azriel couldn’t help but question why.” HMMMMMM I WONDER WHY AZRIEL?????
I also just love stories that have Helion as a sort of father figure/best friend. I want to be his friend! I just bet the mother was like “who is the kindest warmest being I can trust my girl with?”. Of course it’s Helion. She’s a lucky duck for sure! 🙂↕️
Also AMREN???? Bowing so deep she places her head on the floor?? Devotion???? Yeah, this makes me feel so powerful. I AM the mothers daughter thank you very much.
As always, you are such a treasure, and I am so excited to see where you take this. Thank you for sharing!!!!💓
Hmmmm I wonder what that lovely pull might mean!!!?? 🧐🧐🧐 I think we know 👀 or do we? Guess we’ll have to wait and see hehe
Helion is honestly such a babe, just the loveliest, warmest being! She’s been all safe cooped up in Day having a grand ole time 🤭
I know I know, Amren bowing may seem a little dramatic but Amren knows her shit when it comes to divine beings and she ain’t risking being on the Mother’s bad side. So down to the ground she goes (very reluctantly I’m sure) but I feel as though Amren and all her thousand years on knowledge understands perhaps a whole lot more than the others what it means for the mothers daughter to walk the realm…is there mayhaps a prophecy finally being fulfilled?? 👀🤭
As always THANK YOU for your lovely comments, they give me life 🩵🩵
[ warnings: uprotected sex, incest obviously, smut, the angst, injection of a sleeping drug, violence, bad, bad things ]
[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]
Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.
Series & Characters Moodboard
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
She had felt the closeness of his body all night: his arms locked her in his embrace every time she rolled over on the bed, with a murmur of satisfaction finding with her a new position in which he could snuggle into her.
Although he kept his hand on her bare buttock, desperately wanting to feel her skin, she did not perceive this touch as sexual per se: there was a need for physical affection in him that only another living, warm body could give.
He smelled of alcohol, cigarettes, mint gum and intense, masculine perfume. This combination dulled her and relaxed her making her fall asleep again immediately even when she woke up, his touch, his presence, their bodies entwined together soothed her.
She was sure that in the morning he would wake up horrified by everything that had happened, begging her to go to the pharmacy to get the pill that would prevent any unplanned pregnancy, the effects of their ill-considered excess.
He, however, took her again, more tenderly and slowly, making her feel so good, too good, because, after all, it should feel bad, it should be disgusting, it should hurt.
But it didn't.
She was too wet, he slid into her too easily, he was trying too hard to rub against the spot from which shivers of pleasure ran through her, making her womanhood twitch with convulsions of sweet ecstasy.
She felt remorse for not standing up to him, for opening her thighs to him twice even though she had promised herself that it would never happen, that it was just her hideous deviation that she would keep to herself forever.
"Are you taking pills?" He asked when it was all over, and she froze, snapped out of her reverie.
"No." She muttered, knowing what he meant, what he was going to say.
She felt like vomiting at the thought.
He surprised her when his lips placed a warm, gentle kiss on her cheek.
"It's your body. But know that I'd like to be the father of your child. Someday. You decide when. If ever." He whispered in her ear and she froze completely, shocked.
I'd like to be the father of your child.
Someday.
If ever.
How could he say something like that?
She felt a twinge of regret towards herself that something in his words brought her a strange relief.
He couldn't be her boyfriend, her husband, but he could be the father of her children.
"I…I don't know what I'll do yet. I need to think about it." She mumbled, feeling her heart pounding like crazy, not knowing what she was supposed to respond to his words.
She heard him swallow hard, as if something hurt him in what she said.
"Let me know when you've made your decision about...you know. Please." He whispered, and she felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought that he wanted to know what she was going to do.
Whether or not she would buy the pill in the pharmacy.
She pressed her lips together at the thought that even if she complied with his request, it wouldn't change anything.
"So that you won't answer me?" She asked in a shaky voice, hearing him lift himself on his arm at her words.
"I'll. I swear I'll. Hey. Hey, look at me." He said, but she didn't believe him, because she knew he would hurt her again.
They were destined to do so.
It was just a pleasant dream, nothing more.
"I mean it. I swear. I…" He didn't get to finish because they both flinched and pulled away from each other, terrified when they heard a loud banging on her door.
"Open up." Daemon called out and they both stood up as if burned, dressing quickly.
"Wait a minute!" She said, handing him his shoes and jacket.
"Go to the toilet." She whispered to him, running quickly to the door herself when she heard him lock himself in the room.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
She swallowed loudly, trying to control her panic and opened it, looking at her step-father with big eyes. She opened her mouth, but he spoke up first.
"Get changed, we're leaving immediately." He said dryly, looking her over from top to bottom, his brow furrowed.
Did she overlook something?
Could he see what she had just done?
"But why so sudden? I'd like to have breakfast. Has something happened?" She muttered, trying to sound as casual as possible.
"Viserys is dead." He said, and she froze, feeling her heart stuck in her throat.
With a remnant of her strong will she held herself up from looking behind her, towards the toilet.
God, he'd definitely heard that.
"– what? – but –"
"They called the ambulance, Alicent found him dead in his bed. Who was banging on your door last night?" He asked, and she swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat run down her back.
She couldn't lie, she had to think of something.
"Aemond. We talked about the past." She whispered, looking at him pleadingly, asking him to leave it alone.
"Is he here?" He asked coldly, stepping inside, looking around the room. His step headed towards the toilet, and she stood in his way.
"Y-yes. He was drunk and fell asleep on the floor. You scared me, we didn't know what to do." She muttered, feeling burning tears of shame and horror under her eyelids, the fear that squeezed her lungs made her breathe with difficulty.
One more time, just this one more time let me lie, she thought.
Please, this one more time.
"Get out of there. Now." He directed his words towards the door, which opened a moment later.
Her uncle came out of there pale, trembling all over, though she had no idea whether from fear or because of what he had heard.
"Go to your mother. She needs you now. Your older brother is completely drunk." Her step-father said, and her uncle passed them without a word and left, not even bestowing a single glance on them.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, clenching her thighs together, feeling his semen begin to flow down her leg.
She took a deep breath, trying not to burst into sobs and to keep up appearances that nothing had happened.
When Daemon's hand touched her head and pulled her to him, making her hit his chest, when his arms closed her in a secure embrace, she burst out into a loud, miserable cry.
She was pathetic, she was dirty, she was worthless, a simple whore, a vessel for his seed.
He did what he wanted with her, and she allowed him to.
"We'll go to the pharmacy. We'll sort it out. Don't worry." He said, and she felt both gratitude and horror at his words.
We'll sort it out.
He knew.
Her distraught mother went with Alicent and her siblings, and she, Daemon and her brothers were to return home together. On her way out of the building she spotted her uncle smoking a cigarette, his gaze blank and absent, directed somewhere in the distance.
He heard their footsteps and turned, meeting her gaze – the way he lowered his head in shame, looking away made her feel tears under her eyelids.
Of course it had ended like that.
It was just a dream, nothing more.
"We'll stop at the pharmacy on the way. Your sister is feeling unwell." Communicated Daemon as they set off, driving out of the car park.
She looked at her uncle again through the window and saw that he was looking at her, his eyebrows arched in pain, his lips parted, as if he regretted letting her go without saying goodbye.
She swallowed hard, resting her forehead against the glass, unable to focus on Jace's or Luke's questions, fearing what would now happen to their grandfather's business.
That's what everyone was wondering now, she thought.
As they drove down to the shopping arcade near their house, Daemon stopped in the parking lot and looked at her over his shoulder.
"Are you going to manage on your own or should I come with you?" He asked, and she felt her heart squeeze with pain.
She was afraid.
"Can you come with me?" She muttered, feeling tear after tear begin to run down her cheeks. Jace touched her shoulder, terrified.
"Do you feel that bad? Did you poison yourself with something?" He asked and she nodded, looking straight into her step-father's eyes.
"Yes. Yes, I poisoned myself with something very badly."
The experience of walking into a pharmacy with her step-father to buy a morning-after pill was one of the strangest and most uncomfortable things she had experienced in her life.
The lady pharmacist looked at Daemon grimly, as if she assumed he was responsible for all the fuss, putting her into a state of utter embarrassment.
Even though she tried to stand up to him, Daemon paid up and told her to hide the pack in her backpack as soon as they walked out of there.
"Read the leaflet carefully. Do everything as it says."
"I know." She muttered, for some reason bursting out crying again, wiping her reddened cheeks with her hand, trying not to think about the curious stares of other people around them.
"Everything has consequences. It will be fine. Don't worry. I won't say anything to your mother." He said, and she nodded.
It was the right thing to do, the logical thing to do, the safe thing to do.
This was the right thing to do.
When they got home, she went upstairs to her room and locked herself in, saying she wanted to take a shower. Daemon and her brothers were waiting for a call from her mother, and her stepsisters were in classes, so she had apparent peace and quiet.
For now.
She sat down on her bed and pulled a small packet with one pill inside from her backpack. She unrolled the leaflet and started to read, but couldn't concentrate.
I'd like to be the father of your child.
Why did he say that?
Did he want to have a clear conscience?
She swallowed hard, burying her face in her hands, not understanding why she had doubts.
After all, she was so young, still going to university. How would she explain her pregnancy? What would she tell her mother? That it was casual unprotected sex with a stranger, that she could have taken the morning-after pill but was an idiot?
She wanted to call him, to talk to him, but immediately afterwards she thought that he would tell her anything so that he himself would not feel remorse, the end result being that she would be left with a swollen belly, grief and humiliation alone.
She pressed her lips together and took the tablet out of the packet, grabbing for the bottle of water standing on her bedside table and hesitated, wanting to put it into her mouth.
Yes.
No.
I don't want to.
But it's the right thing to do.
I don't want to.
But I can't do it alone.
I don't want to.
I could love this child.
I have always wanted to be a mother.
I'm scared.
No one will understand.
I don't want to.
She closed her eyes, stood up, went into her bathroom and threw the pill into the toilet, flushing it down, letting it flow along with her certainty that what she had done would have no consequences.
It will be what is meant to be, she thought, sitting down with no strength on the cold tiles, feeling an emptiness in her heart.
When Daemon asked her if she had done the right thing she said yes.
She wasn't sure if he believed her or not, but he stroked her head anyway before walking out and leaving her alone.
By the time their mother got home it was late in the evening: from what she had managed to overhear it appeared that Viserys was really dead, that he had died in his sleep, that he had not suffered and that she was to go to the notary in two days' time to hear his last will.
That was what everyone was worried about.
What share of the estate would go to whom.
She shuddered, feeling the vibration of her phone in her hand, and froze when she looked at the display.
Aemond.
He was calling her.
She swallowed hard, locking herself immediately in her room, panicked, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.
She answered the call and put the phone to her ear, hearing a noise on the other end, as if someone was driving a car.
"Yes?"
She heard him grunt, as if he was afraid of what he was about to say.
"How are you?"
What kind of question was that?
What was she supposed to answer that?
It was great sex, uncle, maybe we'll be parents soon?
"I don't know." She said, walking closer to the window, not wanting anyone in the corridor to hear that she was on the phone.
She heard him swallow hard, feeling involuntarily how difficult it was for him.
Why was she making excuses for him so easily?
"Did you…go to the pharmacy?" He asked finally.
"Yes."
"And?"
"No."
There was silence on the other side for a moment.
"No, what?"
"I wasn't able to do it. I don't expect anything from you." She said in a trembling voice. "I'll manage on my own. If it turns out that…"
She didn't finish, preferring not to say it out loud.
She heard the sound of the key turning on the other side and the silence indicating that he had turned off the engine.
"I want this. If it's going to happen. I want to be a part of it."
"It sounds right only in your head."
"No. I mean it."
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, wanting to tell him first that she didn't need his pity, but reminded herself after a moment that this was the day his father had died.
She sighed quietly, looking out the window at the courtyard of her house.
"And you? How do you feel? With everything that's happened."
"Depends on what you ask." He replied, but his tone of voice changed, becoming cool again.
"About your father."
"We knew he was seriously ill. That this was probably his last birthday."
They were quiet for a moment, however there was something warm in that silence, some kind of understanding and comfort.
"You said you didn't regret it." He said finally, and she drew in a loud breath at the memory of what they had done.
She didn't know what she was supposed to answer.
She was sad, bitter, disappointed, but did she regret it?
No.
"I still think so. But I didn't get my hopes up about anything, if that's what you're aiming for. Daemon won't tell anyone about this. He won't…"
"Why was it so right?"
She froze, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at his question.
"Since it was wrong. So fucking wrong." He continued, as if his darkest, most disturbing thoughts were pouring out of him. "Then why it was so pleasant?"
"The forbidden fruit tempts most." She whispered.
She heard him swallow loudly, drawing in air deeply, as if something in her words pained him.
"Is that what it was for you?"
"I don't know. And for you?" She asked angrily, not understanding what he wanted to hear from her after so many years of silence, after he had come to her room in the middle of the night without a word of explanation and fucked her like there was going to be no tomorrow.
"I wanted…nevermind." He hissed.
"No. Say it." She demanded, hearing him twist in his seat.
"For eight years you pretended I didn't exist, I deserve this." She said in pain, feeling a squeeze in her throat so strong that she ran out of breath.
Don't hang up, please don't hang up.
"I want to try." He said at last, so quietly and uncertainly that she barely heard him.
"I don't understand."
"I would like to study archaeology. You wrote me that if I asked you to, you would help me get into university." He mumbled like a small, embarrassed child, startling her completely.
What?
"I…well, but…there are only two months left to submit the documents. What day is today? Thursday. Are you thinking about full-time or part-time studies?" She asked, walking over to her calendar, trying to count in her head how much time they had.
God, there was a desire in him to change something.
She knew that if she discouraged him, she might soon find out that someone had shot him in the head.
"Only part-time classes are an option." He replied finally. "Is it manageable? Do they have any…requirements?"
"Passed final exams in high school, preferably in history or a language." She explained. "There are also entrance exams, but they are not difficult."
"I had the best result in the history final exam in the whole class." He muttered and she nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline.
"Good. That's very good, Aemond. It can be done. If you want, come to my University tomorrow, we can talk to my professor about whether a personal teaching plan would come into play if you got in."
"Is there such a thing?"
"Yes, for students who are working at the same time."
"Really?" He asked, a note of hope in his voice that made her heart clench.
"Yes. Text me when you can be there, the professor has class until 3 p.m. Okay?"
"Okay."
"See you tomorrow." She said and hung up, looking at her phone screen in disbelief.
She didn't know why she jumped up and down with happiness, why she believed that things would change, that she would really get him back.
She wanted so badly to know that there was still hope for both of them.
Throughout the next day she feared he would give up and not come.
She thought with horror that he was, after all, a complete stranger to her.
What did she know about him?
Despite her doubts, he finally wrote to her.
How did he know where he was supposed to arrive?
She figured he might have looked it up on the internet and went out to meet him, intending to pick him up from the car park. When she saw his car pull into the driveway she approached him, keeping a safe distance. He got out of the car and automatically reached into his jacket for his pack of cigarettes.
"There's no smoking allowed on University premises." She said.
He lowered his hand in a gesture of impatience, furrowing his brow.
"Are you fucking serious?"
"Yes. Let's go. We'll find my professor in the teachers' common room, he's just having a break between lectures." She said, and he moved behind her, looking around at the walls of the large, brick, old building from the 19th century.
"Does he know I'm coming?" He asked uncertainly, clearly tense.
People passing him looked at his face, at his scar.
She felt uncomfortable with the thought, angry for some reason that he couldn't just walk down the corridor in peace.
Was it always like this?
In the shop, in the office, in the restaurant, at school?
Everyone looking at him.
"Yes."
When they got there she knocked on the right door. Her professor, Mr Addams, was a hearty, grey-haired, rather short man with big glasses and a short, elegantly trimmed beard. He was a man of great passion and they immediately found a common language through which he began to take her on his private excavations as a help.
In this way, she managed to collect any savings of her own.
"Professor. This is my friend I mentioned to you." She said, glancing over her shoulder, her uncle's face pale and terrified, his healthy eye wide open.
Good God.
Her professor held out his hand to him, and to her relief he showed any social reflexes and shook it.
"My pleasure. Miss Strong spoke of you in all superlatives. Please, let's go to my office." He said, moving briskly down the corridor with a bundle of keys in his hand, and they moved to follow him.
Mr Addams opened the door to the room and invited them inside into a small study with a high window, all lined with wooden panelled walls, an oak bookcases filled to the brim with books, a desk and several chairs all around it.
The professor sat behind the table, sighing heavily, indicating their seats on the opposite side.
"I'm listening." He said, and she looked at her uncle. He gave her a horrified look, convinced apparently that she would do everything for him.
"So. My friend didn't have the opportunity to study because of his job. I was wondering if there would be the possibility of personal teaching plan or part-time study in that case." She said finally. The man raised his eyebrows and scratched his chin.
"Classes can be studied in part-time, but you have to do a lot of practice hours on excavations, as you know, Miss Strong. They are obligatory." He said.
"Yes, but my friend works at night. He could take part in them during the day. Right?" She asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Her uncle grunted, tense, not knowing where to look, his fingers clenched into fists.
His face then when Jace took his boxers from him, his loud sobs, his hands clenched into fists as he stood up to his waist in water.
"Yes. Yes, that would be possible." He replied lowly, trailing his fingers along the armrest.
The professor nodded.
"Well, if that's the case, then please prepare yourself for the exams. Then we'll see what comes of it." He said and rose, nodding at them.
"Is that it?" Her uncle muttered, looking at her with big eyes, as if he expected to be questioned for hours by this man.
"Yes." She replied. "Thank you, Professor."
When they went outside and said goodbye to Mr Addams they stood in awkward silence, not knowing what to do with themselves.
"If you'd like, I'll wait and drive you home." He offered, not looking at her but somewhere to the side, pretending to read something interesting on a poster hanging on the wall.
"No need. Mum will pick me up." She replied.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and grinned under his breath.
"They pick you up and drop you off like a little girl?" He sneered, making her feel an unpleasant sting in her heart.
"Ever since someone put a rape pill into my drink, yes."
His expression changed, filled with sudden shame and discomfort. He grunted and scratched his chin, embarrassed.
"Do you know who did this? I can take care of it. For your comfort." He added, as if to make amends to her for his ill-considered words.
"Larys Strong." She said, and he looked at her shocked as if he didn't believe she had said that.
"What?"
"I already told you. He was telling me about my father."
"But it wasn't him who put it into your drink, it was one of his people, right?"
"He asked me if I wanted a drink. I said no. Then he ordered water for me. I took a few sips from it and struggled to get to the bathroom."
Her uncle stared at her wide-eyed, breathing loudly through his nose, his lips pressed together in a way from which she felt fear and a cold sweat on her back.
"Son of a bitch." He hissed, running his hand over his face, turning his head away, clearly thinking of something she didn't like.
"Don't interfere. Go home." She said impatiently. He looked at her, surprised.
"And when are you going to teach me?" He muttered.
"What?"
"For the exams. I need you to help me. How do I reconcile what I have to do at night with studying if I don't know where to start?" He asked, and she sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands.
"Okay. Okay, I'll help you. I'll pass you the study books somehow." She said finally, giving in, recognising that she had no choice, that whether she wanted to or not, she had to help him get out of this life that was destroying him every day.
She didn't want him to die.
He stood over her and stared at her, his warm breath enveloping the top of her head.
"Can I touch your hand?"
She lifted her gaze to him and met his eyes, one blank, staring dully ahead, the other red with emotion, his full lips parted involuntarily in an accelerated breath.
She held out her hand towards him, and he took his from the pocket of his trousers, grasping her little fingers in his.
There was something frighteningly natural about the way they intertwined, how perfectly they fit together, how right they looked in a tender embrace.
"Walk me out."
And off they went together, walking down the University's sidewalks, holding hands as if they were a couple.
There was something childlike and naïve about it, about how tightly their fingers clasped together, how close the embrace was, how much they needed proof that nothing was over between them.
She thought it was a pathetic attempt to reclaim their lost childhood.
She let go of his hand as they stopped at his car and watched as he got in without a word, only to drive away a moment later without even bestowing a single glance on her.
She spent the rest of the day during class unable to focus on what she was hearing, pondering how she was going to fool Daemon and her mother into thinking she was spending time with someone else while she was actually helping him study.
She concluded, when she saw her stepfather's face behind the wheel and not her mother's, that it might be worth it to just stop lying.
When she got into the passenger side of the car and Daemon set off, she began to speak at once.
"I'm helping Aemond get into University."
Daemon snorted at her words, surprised, frustrated and intrigued all at the same time. She clamped her hands on the fabric of the backpack lying on her lap, dreading his answer.
"Interesting."
Is that all?
"I want to help him prepare for his exams. He has very little time."
"No."
She swallowed hard hearing him say the word coldly and confidently.
"Why?"
Daemon switched on his indicator and turned at the crossroads even though he should have been driving straight, leaving her stunned.
"What are you doing? Where are we going?" She muttered, feeling her heart start to pound like crazy with terror.
"You'll see."
They stopped in one of the busiest streets in the city: her stepfather had told her to get off, so she did, moving a moment later right behind him towards one of the pubs.
"Not open yet, mate." Said a tall, stocky man in a black suit stopping him with his hand.
"For me it is. Mate." He scoffed.
The man wanted to say something, but someone from downstairs called out to let them in.
A woman.
They went down the stairs inside: apart from them and the bartender, who was mopping the floor, a beautiful black-haired woman was sitting at one of the tables, bent over a laptop. Seeing her stepfather she stood up and approached them with a smile that was both seductive and disturbing.
Her eyes were unnaturally green.
"Well, well. Fucking Alys Rivers. The world is small." Daemon said and shook her hand in a gesture as if they had once been partners.
"What brings you here?" She asked softly, directing the gaze of her bright eyes at her, her voice melodious and deep.
The woman examined her figure from top to bottom, as if she had just been looking at something tasty.
"I came to show my step-daughter the brutality of life." He explained, glancing at her over his shoulder with some kind of pride, as if he was just about to teach his son some very manly and important things.
Alys Rivers cocked her head at his words, glancing at her with a look that frightened her.
As if she had heard of her before.
"Oh. I see. Well, I won't disturb you. It was good to see you. Give my regards to your wife." She said and returned to her seat, clicking something on her laptop again.
Daemon moved forward and sat a table at the other end of the room. She sat next to him, tense, and after a moment a man came out of the back room who had not noticed them, walking straight towards the black-haired woman.
It was only when she saw his face that she understood why her stepfather had taken her there.
He had three long scars on the left side of his face.
The man only noticed them when the woman pointed her finger at them. He nodded at them and Daemon reciprocated the gesture, looking at her.
"Guess who left him such a beautiful reminder."
On the way back home, she was silent, because that was also the state of her mind: it was empty. No thought, no feeling, no sound or word flowed through her: images from outside the window flashed before her eyes, as if she were watching a film.
A passive observer of someone else's life.
"Robert wasn't the only one. There are seven others. Most recently Tyland. They were in arrears, and Otto is very much on his word. I worked for him, just like your one-eyed uncle." He said, and she looked at him shocked.
"What?" She muttered.
"I slammed them with a baseball bat until they looked like a red tomato. They had all their facial bones broken. They looked like completely different people afterwards." He said, and she lowered her gaze, feeling discomfort, horror, disbelief.
She rarely thought about what they did to people who didn't pay them on time because she knew that if she started doing it, she wouldn't get a single peaceful night again.
"Your uncle is now his dog. The faithful hound he has raised for himself for eight years. Even if some part of him would like to run away, he knows he cannot bite the hand that feeds him. A dog can only have one owner, and that is his grandfather, even if you wish it were otherwise."
"Don't speak about him like that. As if he wasn't human." She exclaimed in pain, looking at him in disbelief. Daemon shook his head.
"You don't understand. He's brainwashed. He's trapped in his big cage and he thinks he's free. But as soon as he tries to take a step too far, Otto will react and you'll get the message from him that he's not going to university and he'll never see you again. If it was just about fucking, I'd be able to understand it. I also did… reckless things when I was your age, but you get involved, naively mistaking his euphoria at meeting you after eight years for affection that could change anything."
Each successive word from him was like needles that, one by one, drove into her heart, a bucket of cold water that made her begin to quiver, red with shame, sadness and regret.
Some part of her knew he was right.
She closed her eyes, seeing in her mind the face of a man with three scars.
He had done this to him.
How could the hands that touched her so tenderly, so softly, do such a thing?
A dog can only have one owner, and that is his grandfather, even if you wish it were otherwise.
She knew that the comparison her step-father used was cruel and derogatory, but she understood in a way what he was warning her about.
Her uncle was lonely and manipulated by his grandfather, full of complexes and insecurities that made him cling to what was safe and familiar, which if there was too much risk would cause him to withdraw.
She realised that he would never choose her.
What happened between them was pure coincidence, the result of their collision in a place and time beyond their control.
A desperate attempt to connect again.
She spent the rest of the day in the garden, watering the flowers and weeding around them, trying to calm and soothe herself. The sight of them, those beautiful, vibrant colours of their petals gave her pleasure, comfort in a state where she felt she would never experience any other joys in her life again.
The next day her mother and Daemon went to the notary to hear her grandfather's last will. Everyone was tense and sullen from the morning, knowing what it meant.
A war of influence was looming over what Viserys had left behind, pubs, clubs, businesses, more than half of their entire family's source of income.
Jace and Luke were restless, looking out of the windows once in a while, talking loudly about the fact that whatever their mother was getting, Otto would surely want to take from them by force, and they would never agree to that.
"Stop it." She muttered, sighing heavily. Baela, who was sitting next to her, squeezed her hand in hers, sensing her uncertainty.
"They're coming back!" Jace called out as he ran out into the driveway and they followed him, looking with big eyes at Daemon's and his security guards' cars.
Her stepfather stepped out of the car with a broad smile as if he was the winner of some world championship, however, her mother was pale and her face expressed horror.
"Everything. Viserys bequeathed everything to your mother in his will." He said spreading his hands as if he had received a blessing from God himself.
Jace and Luke ran up to him and hugged him as if it was the best day of their lives, but she and her step-sisters felt exactly the same as her mother.
Terror.
Everything.
Her uncles, her aunt, his second wife got nothing.
"How can this be?" She mumbled, shaking her head.
"He left them some big estates by the sea and in the city. I don't give a shit. Tonight we're celebrating, my dears, we're having a banquet!" Daemon exclaimed as he walked into their house, but she approached her mother, who was barely on her feet.
"Mom?" She muttered.
Rhaenyra looked at her and shook her head, following her husband into the house.
She knew what she was thinking about.
Otto will never leave it like this.
"Each of you will have a bodyguard assigned to you from today. We are reinforcing the security of our home, each of us can now be a target. You do not speak to anyone from that part of the family without consulting me or your mother." Said her stepfather, holding a glass of champagne in his hand, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, giving her a protracted, uneasy look.
She lowered her gaze, feeling discomfort in her stomach, having the impression that she had forgotten how to breathe.
Taking advantage of the fact that Daemon was in euphoria and he, along the other men who worked with them had made a party, she went back to her room. She lay down in bed hearing their laughter and loud conversations downstairs, not understanding where their reason for joy came from.
Did they love killing each other so much?
She shuddered as her display lit up – she reached for her phone with her hand and unlocked the screen as soon as she saw that he had texted her.
She swallowed hard, looking around, wondering if she should do this.
Everyone was downstairs, the security guards were drunk.
Maybe she could sneak out?
She knew the code to the gate, maybe no one would notice her if she went out the back door.
Uncertainty, fear and trepidation squeezed her heart, but some part of her wanted to believe that he really cared, that in a situation where all seemed lost he was willing to reach for the one thing that gave him hope.
Today he lost everything, she thought.
Can I take more away from him?
So she packed her books from her first year into her backpack and left the room quietly in her sweatshirt and shorts, not even trying to go for her shoes, heading for the stairs. Apart from one drunk, sleeping security guard and two men talking in the kitchen, she didn't see anyone.
She lay down on the floor and began to crawl forward, feeling like a commando on an important mission, seeing from a distance that they didn't hear her. She rose as she entered the dark hallway and quietly opened the door.
She lifted her gaze up to the camera facing the exit and cursed under her breath, stopping halfway.
She had completely forgotten about it.
What now?
She looked around, trying to remember exactly what the image from the cameras she had seen once looked like when she and Daemon were searching for something on the recordings.
One, two, three, four she started counting and spotted an area she was sure the range of none of the cameras included. She ran in that direction, propped a bucket lying next to her feet and struggled to climb the wall, pulling herself up with a groan of effort, leaping over to the other side, almost breaking her legs.
She hissed, falling onto her hands – when she lifted them she saw that she had scraped her skin there and on her knees.
She sighed heavily, recognising that she would survive such injuries and that they would be nothing compared to what Daemon would do to her if he found out she had escaped.
She'll just give him the books and go back home.
She breathed out loud when she saw his car around the corner, its engine and lights on. He opened the door from his side, looking at her with big eyes, and she quickly pulled off her backpack, giving it to him.
"Take this and get out of here." She muttered, but his hand grasped her wrist.
"– come here –"
"– I have to –"
"– come –"
She stared at him, panting hard, knowing involuntarily what he wanted, feeling the squeeze between her thighs at the thought that she wanted it too.
Comfort.
"– I –"
"– it won't take long –"
He closed the door behind her as she let his arm pull her around the waist – she clumsily sat on top of him, trying to make herself comfortable on his lap in such a tight space. She lifted herself up on her knees to slide her shorts off while he looked at her with a misty gaze, unfastening the belt to his trousers.
"– good girl – such a good girl –" He breathed out, releasing his erection immediately, throbbing and dripping with desire, ready to give her what she needed.
There was no time for any other kind of caress, so she positioned herself over him, lowering herself slowly onto his thick, smooth tip, feeling how wonderfully he opened her for himself, stretching her warm, moist walls.
"– fuck – fuck, baby –" He muttered, clamping his hands over her firm buttocks, panting and moaning loudly along with her, sliding into her in one, deep thrust.
The feeling of him deep inside her was full of tension, her interior suddenly stretched to the limit on his throbbing erection, which he began to thrust slowly into her with trembling, tentative slaps full of impatience.
"– ah – G-God –" She mumbled, feeling how her slickness helped him to force his way into her body again and again, filling her so wonderfully.
Why it felt so right when it was so wrong?
Her hands embraced his neck, their foreheads touched each other as his palms on her waist forced a quick, sharp, violent pace on her from which her nipples hardened, the pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen caused by him rubbing her where she needed it made her gasp.
"– Aemond –" She mewled, trying to find a rhythm with his body, rolling her hips back and forth, filling herself again and again with his swollen, hot manhood, feeling pleasant, warm tickle in her belly.
"– do you hear it? – do you hear how well you take me? – only you – fuck –" He gasped, pounding into her with loud, wet slaps of their hips, listening how her twitching cunt clicked with his every push. His hand sank into her hair as his moist lips brushed hers, inviting her into the warm, sticky kiss full of their saliva.
Their tongues licked and teased each other, intensifying their sensation, building a swift path to their fulfilment, their bodies slammed against each other greedily with their embarrassingly loud moans of pleasure.
It seemed to her that they were too ashamed and shocked by the situation, by what they were doing, and how pleasurable it was, how liberating it was, to fuck in his car against everyone and everything, the sticky juices of their forbidden fruit running down their thighs each time his cock sank into her weeping pussy again.
She was terrified that, despite the speed and brutality of his thrusts, his hands caressed her body so tenderly, stroking her hair, her neck, her back, her buttocks, her cheeks, allowing his lips and tongue to join hers in loud, chaotic, wet kisses full of their moans.
She couldn't stop the tension that was growing in her lower abdomen, the pleasant tickling in her fingertips and the clenching deep between her thighs that proved she was about to come.
"– where? –" He mumbled into her mouth, her hands stroking his sweaty, soft cheeks, letting the messy, greedy thrusts of his hips give her the pleasure she so needed, her lips parted wide as the aggressive, stupefying fulfilment full of relief shook her body.
"– here – right here, uncle –" She gasped, feeling only pleasure, only relief, only bliss.
He groaned loudly, helpless, and came hard inside her, throwing his head back, panting heavily along with her. He hugged her face to his sweaty neck, exactly as he had then, that night in the hotel room, his half-hard, pulsing manhood filling her with the remnants of his seed.
"– I think I'm in love with you –" He whispered in a trembling voice, making the sound stuck in her throat with emotion.
She parted her lips, not knowing what to answer him, thinking with embarrassment that she somehow reciprocated his feelings.
His hand slid off her head while the other continued to stroke her bare buttock, his soft erection still throbbing deep inside her as his lips placed a warm, soft kiss on her forehead.
"– forgive me –"
She only drew in the air loudly, shocked, and clenched her hands on his black T-shirt when she felt the needle jab into her neck. Her squeal of horror, grief, and disbelief sounded unnatural, as if she were a small animal being butchered.
Her body became numb, the image around her became blurred and unclear, a heavy, dark sleep descended on her mind as she simply relaxed in his arms, feeling his hand stroke her head again, his cheek nestled against her forehead all wet.
He cried.
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