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ASHES BURN! DARK BOOKAEMOND X READER 18+ MDNI

Tags: Dark! Aemond x Captive bastard reader, fingering, canon typical violence, hurt, blood, mentions of seed, fucking, abuse, degrading, aemond enjoying hurting reader more than he should and overall its a dark smutty chapter. Reader has traumas. Rough sex, aemond has also traumas.

🔷Summary: After the capture of your home town, Aemond demands to meet you in the library where terrifying conclusions are made, and battle plans and loyalties crumble to dust.

🔷Author's note: Dark.

wordcount: 8001 words.

You Spent the rest of the day with a needle and a bit of yarn. You try to pick up your former hobby. You enjoyed knitting before. But something about how the needle goes into the yarn is too confronting. Never before did you see it this way but you could easily compare it to a knife going into a limb. An unpleasant reminder.

Today was horrible in all accounts.

After you denied his wishes and fought for your sisters freedom, Aemond became much less interested in you. He seemed to ignore you, ordering you to be washed and then to be put away somewhere you “couldn't stick that annoying bastard nose” in his business again.

No matter how hard you try to fight it, no matter how much you pretend to be over it, the needle becomes a sword wielded by two hands with long fingers covered in blood. Aemond's hands.

Thankfully the image fades.

The fingers change.

And soon you are looking at your own hands covered in blood. Your hands shake, trembling with unforseen consequeces to your own actions.

There's a knock on the bedroom. It startles you. It's silly. It's stupidty and cowardice but all sounds somehow have gained the power to make you flinch. Something has changed in the way the sounds hit your senses. You are on edge like noway before.

All too well you remember what he said before you were dragged off. That he'd expected you again tonight. You thought you served him well yesterday. And this morning. So why does he want it again tonight? Surely whatever you're giving him, cannot be this good? You had no experience. He took away your only chance of learning anything by banning you from going to women who have these rare experiences.

Another knock reminds you time is ticking.

You stand up, knocking the yarn basket over on accident. Black and green yarn balls roll through the room. It spread throughout the room, creating a mess. You curse as you try To stop the yarn from rolling. It feels as if you are the cat chasing the mouse. But the mouse gets away every time. Life, in a way, is slipping away from you too. You are confronted with fears unlike others you faced and hold power and options you never thought possible. Yet you never wanted it.

With haste you put it back in the basket, as you doubt whoever is there has any patient left for you.

It does not take long before the door is thrown open, and a man in armor enters. Its not Aemond and you do recongize him from the gathering where Aemond tried to sell your sister's maidenhead. His face isn't handsome. His hair isn't long and blonde. His eyes aren't piercing and his smile isn't charming nor devious. He isn't Aemond.

You fold your hands in front of your belly to hide the fact they are shaking. Your voice becomes a mirror of imitation of your stepmother. You try to sound as fearless as she is. But your voice shakes. “Yes?”

He looks around the room briefly.

Then back to the hall.

You consider running past him.

He considers something too.

But he decides it's not worth it as he softly shakes his head. You wonder what that was about. He instead gestures for you to follow him. “Prince Aemond has requested your presence in the newly renovated library.” your eyes widen.

When did he manage to even do that?

Not even half a day has passed.

You suppose Aemond does have little patience and time for useless servants. He said so himself plenty of times.

He walks away assuming you'll follow blindly. but you remain there, frozen and in doubt. He slowly stalks back and looks you up and down. “If you don't come quietly I am allowed to use violence. Touching royals is a act of treason. If King Aegon heard what you did to his brother, his kin…” He makes a cutting gesture above his own throat.

You follow.

At long last.

The halls are filled with judging eyes and glares. People who blame you for problems you only ever tried to solve.

The library has been improved. If you can call it that. Maas big stuffed animal toys have been replaced by a gigantic intimidating wooden war table with stone horses and old maps. Aemond is busy placing a three Headed green dragon at a spot as you are escorted in. Sickening green banners are hanging on the walls, as soldiers in armor walk by and drink from iron cups.

You cannot help but always be on the lookout for the Prince. He is surrounded by soldiers and important men who no doubt advice him at this important moment. You make yourself tiny so he doesn't see you, blending in against the walls. The kind commander is next to him. He moves another dragon up to the green one, and the two of them seem to discuss something. “It must be confusing to you,’ the Soldier next to you comments cruelly as if you are dumb. You don't respond. He grabs you by your waist. You flinch, glaring. “You are only sucking Aemond's cock. You haven't gotten an idea what we are planning.” Do you have to?

“You're as much as his slave as i am.” You remark not breaking eyecontact and containing a cold calculated glare. “I am not sure what kind of things you think but Aemond would burn you alive if it meant keeping his boots warm.” You remind him firmly whispering.

He punishes you by ripping a petal off your skirts. “No matter how well you dress, you'll always be a whore. We will know the difference. You can pretend all you like but at the end of the day we see right through you. You are not a Lady you are a bastard born girl pretending to be.” He says before leaving. The words cut through your heart. You know he is right.

You tried to help others and it failed.

You tried to help yourself and it failed.

You only burned yourself and got punished. Why should you care what nightmare they inflict? You just want the never ending pain to stop. To wake up one day and pretend it was nothing but a unpleasant dream.

The Commander notices you at long last, his brown eyes going back to the map almost instantly as if he's afraid to give your location and presence away. He steps closer, whispering in the prince's ear. You don't see the blue eye glued to the map change or move. But you do see the cold lips that ordered the murder of your loved ones slowly grow into a familiar smirk. He knows you are here. You feel your stomach turn as he finally looks up, addressing you. Your knees shake. Your stomach rumbles. Your knees comply as you force them into a curtsy.

Aemond doesn't say a word, but simply a gesture is enough to dismiss everyone in the room. You make another curtsy now that you are alone in his presence. “My prince, you-” you take a deep breath trying to get a grip of your nerves. “You wanted to see me?”

He doesn't respond. He just stares at you.

You become uncomfortable, pulling your nails. He watches that for a moment before he grabs your hands. “Stop that.” You notice a strange tone in his voice. He tries to hide it by acting careless the next moment. “What do you think, Pet? Do you like this hole better now?” You look around again, missing your sigil. Despite never having the privilege to have it be yours. You miss the colours. You miss the silly axe. You miss the rose field and the waterfall. You miss it so terribly that it hurts to take a next breath. Your chest reminds you that you are alive. Whatever that is worth.

You shake your head. He chuckles with laughter liking your honesty. “I figured you wouldn't. Come, let me show you around.” He says as if he owns the place. You obediently come closer to the prince following him as a lost puppy dog. He walks to the big table with the maps. “This is the best addition. A war table. We were missing one. Your uneducated family never quite bothered to have one.” He frowns as if he finds that silly and chuckles.

Your mouth opens and your voice comes out. “We are obedient servants of the realm and our warden, my Prince. We didn't need war tables.” You explain. You just did what the Tullys did. You did what the realm did. It was all so simple. And now it's so complicated. For the realm is divided. A realm is bleeding and being torn to shreds.

Somehow, the prince thinks you must have lectured him. “You must mistake me for the rats you speak so freely to,” he grits out when grabbing you by your waist. “I was hoping some time alone in that room did something to smoothen your tongue.” He glances at your gown. A small gift from your sister. It has soft green colours with golden details and silver tiny bows on the skirt. You tremble as he judges it.

There is a chance he won't like it.

She picked it out for you after washing you.

You appreciated how gentle she was, despite the awkwardness. She seemed to have put a lot of thought into this dress, as you recall being naked for at least ten minutes as she picked the best dress to wear.

“I send you here for a reason.’ He says, as you feel close to fainting in your expensive new dress. “You must know more of this strategic place. You know it's weaknesses and it's strength. You will help me keep this miserable shed.”

There should be fear in your heart by those words. Truth is there is none. For you have one thing you cannot for the life of you figure out. Something he said the day you met him, the day Karst died on that field. Something he repeated many times. Dolkburg is a shithole, a hellhole, a place only useful for sheep and women who like to be fucked as sheep. He said that. Time and time and time again. So many times that you wanted him to shut up and take his leave.

He plans on holding it.

He plans on expanding the war happening here. He wants to bring more death and doom to your beloved town. “Why?”

That is your question.

You stumble backwards as if invisible hands just shoved you for daring to speak up. You see the same confusion mirrored in that one lonely now narrowed cold eye.

He blinks. He opens his mouth quickly.

“Because I said so, and you do as I want.” He says, reminding you of his power. But this time it falls flat as you shake your head, looking at him in a different light.

You don't see the importance of Dolkburg. You love the people, the animals, the culture, the way the rain smells and how the snow falls here. For you, personally it has importance. For Prince Aemond however…. “Dolkburg is known from sheep. You said so yourself. You said,” you shake as you tear up. “You said we are all sheep ready to be fucked.’ He avoids your eyes suddenly. “I didn't want to hear it. But it's true, isn't it? There is no true importance to Dolkburg. You said sheep make good soldier clothing but why did you really attack us?”

“That is my business.” He grits out, suddenly.

“I've heard enough. You didn't like my gifts. You didn't like the fact I didn't had your sisters fucked until they couldn't sit anymore and you don't like that I spared your people. Maybe I should put some more people into the ground to remind you of your place. Maybe your sisters should be passed around. Maybe I'll begin with your little sister. As I said she's too young to fuck, so we'll use her as arrow target instead.” Diandra would die you are aware. But you cannot help but be selfish.

You feel your hopes crumble. You never get a answer to why he picked Dolkburg to commit these crimes. You never will have peace for yourself that it was unavoidable. For he simply refuses to tell you.

For all his flaws, you never once thought him a craven. Now he has proven to you that that is what he truly is. A man afraid of a shadow. You wanted closure to the open wounds that kept you up at night. You have been obedient to him. And he refuses the simplest question of all. You look him in the eye. “I suspected you were a monster the day we met. I just never thought you were a craven too.” He seems shocked at this insult.

Then he chuckles.

And the next moment you feel him hit your cheek as your face turns by the impact of his slap, and you taste blood on your ripped lips. You slowly feel your lips, seeing the blood you tasted yourself. He steps forward. “I'll show you what a great craven I am. Since you enjoy getting fucked too much, I need to think of another crueler punishment.” You already think it too cruel. “Fucking you doesn't do anything. It just makes you wet.” he sounds disgusted and so are you. Because he is right. “I know. I went to see the sheep farmers today. They have the most fun little thing they do with their sheep. To ensure all know what sheep belongs to whom.” he chuckles. “Branding, they call it. Ownership. It's done with fire. I quite like that. I happen to adore fire.” You know what he speaks of. “And, ownership, well you've seen in person how it rouses my desires.”

You know something is coming and you are still too late to act. He grabs you by your necklace, dragging you on to the lit fireplace. You think of his words and battle, begging for mercy as he throws you on your knees, too close to the logs that are being burned.

You scream into the flames and beg for your life. He just chuckles, holding you not close enough to burn you but you are afraid he'll push you in any given second or moment. You beg and cry, whimpering for mercy. He finally pets your cheeks, as he studies you in the light of the burning flames. “Will you obey? Do you appreciate your very privileged position now? Or do I need to take a hot poke out and make my mark on your little body, mhm?” He touches your neck with the cold poke, causing you to shiver.

You give a nod, crying. He grabs you by your hair tighter and makes sure his hands feel your breasts before releasing you painfully as a doll he no longer wants to play with. “Good.’ you breathe of relief as you begin to gather your racing thoughts and clutch your chest. “I didn't bring you here to fuck. You'll do as I ordered you.” He walks back to the war table, watching you follow him with your eyes. “I want to bring in soldiers. We can do so via the gate since it's cut off from the sea.”

“Even more? There are already so many to feed.” You don't understand why he needs so many men to hold such a small unimportant keep.

But he doesn't appreciate your opinion.

“Just be glad its feeding you'll be doing and not fucking. Your little friends will be taken from back to front. Just be glad I made you mine.” He allows his hands to go under your dress to touch your body. “And I want to know, you spoke of a treasure earlier. I want to know where all the good things are. I want the gold, the jewels. Anything we can use.” You don't answer him. He sighs, cleaning your face as the warmth of the fireplace is still somehow very close.

You feel your face where the swollen side betrays where he hit you. You look at him.

“Will you leave the girls alone then?” You whisper hopeful. “You have me then?”

You expect another rapid smack but just feel him touch your face. “You cannot help them all, little Lamb. I am fine with your sisters not being raped, because quite frankly; I don't see the appeal. My men want you tied to the well at the town's square so they can take turns raping you, to the point you'll either die naturally or by their violence.” He doesn't bother to whispers this, making sure you hear every awful word. “Of course, I am against that. My lamb is mine. If I tie you to the well I'll be the one doing the fucking me and me alone.” He reminds you firmly. You think of the soldier that ripped your dress. You doubt he'd like to know that.

He doesn't say a word as he removes your clothes from your body. He just caresses your face as you sit there, your cunt wet and visible. You feel him slowly caress your back, his gloved hands teasing you. You feel the leather unpleasant and cold. “I am stressed, my lamb. Fucking you tires my thoughts.” He confesses and you are surprised he would admit such a thing. You look up, confused how to offer your support and if he wants that to begin with. Or rather why. You think of how awful the morning began with you being impaled by his cock time after time as you took it, moaning and whimpering as your vision blurted and your eyes became as wet as your treasonous cunt. You don't want to have that experience again.

“We can go back to the bedroom. I'll draw you a bath and you can enjoy it first before we lay together again.” You suggest. He is quiet for some time taking in something on the war maps. You don't think he heard you at all. Until he chuckles.

The way his eye widens warns you plenty by now. His hands go to the familair positions. His back, or in front of his body. Its a habit of him when he wants to be intimidating. It works. You know its a trick and yet it works flawlessly on you.

“So you can stab me when I'm unarmed?” You release a soft sigh at that comment. Yes. That was your masterplan. Kill the man who can restrict the brutes plundering and destroying your home town. That will surely go well. You want to snap at him.

But you don't.

“Come on then, speak. Talk back to me.” He challenges you. He knows you want to. He can see the anger in your eyes. Anger you try to hide so well.

But that is stupid.

“It'll only get me into trouble, my Prince.” He just chuckles, caressing your face.

“But you like trouble, little Lamb.” he looks around inspecting the room. “This is one of the nicer rooms. You can tell your family liked it here.” For some reason he suddenly changed the topic back to your family. You wonder what reason he has for that. You wonder what gave it away to him. “The war table is my favourite new part. I quite like it a lot.’ He allows his hands to feel the sturdy table, testing the wood as he shakes it violently as if testing it.

You wonder for what. You notice the door is closed. A soldier did that. You are alone with him in a room again. Your legs begin to walk as if they have a mind of their own. Your steps are soft and delicate as a bunny sneaking around the wolf's den. Aemond doesn't notice. You almost make it to the door. Almost.

“You can't leave yet. You have to try out the table too.” He insists, collecting you gently and escorting you to the confusing maps.

“How? I cannot read maps.” You admit. “I was never taught.” You don’t want to admit it but you feel ashamed. “Lady Fyiona might help you better.”

He just stubbornly puts your hands against the table. Then your body is lifted and held down so your torso covers the map. “My prince, this is highly inappropriate. What will your soldiers think when they find me here?’ You beg already terrified of the thought of them walking in on this.

He puts your cunt right on the map.

“That's exactly where we are. Your little cunt is covering Dolkburg.” He chuckles cruelly. “Just as in the present. Your cunt is all your value to me.” You know that's true.

“I cannot serve well at this table.” you warn him in blind panic. “I just got used to the bed.’ You admit your voice a breakable soft whimper.

He crosses his arms.

“I am aware. You are not to serve today. You are here to obey and to be taken. You have little to want here.” He reminds you coldly and you wonder why he upholds this illusion where you both pretend only one of you wants this. While you obviously have enjoyed his company too.

He has little care for decorum. Just two of his fingers slowly touching you.

“Feel it.” You do.

You feel his gloved hands on your hips again as he takes a deep breath. You steady yourself.

You eye the battle plans behind you. “You spent much time arranging this. I am sure it's important. We can find a better-” he knocks the dragon off the table, on purpose before advancing. He grabs your waist, lifting you half on the table with your upper body. You are captured there and held down. You hear the belt unbuckle and the leather gloves be removed. You feel a soft smack on your butt and his voice thundering in your ear.

“I'll fuck you here and now.” He decides panting with arousal as he removes his shirt.

You give a soft nod your cunny clenching. Your cunt must be easy to reach for him. You feel his hands on your hips and then you feel the familiar painful trust as he groans gently, warning you he has entered. You finally manage to relax your muscles so it doesn't hurt as much.

He still hurts a bit. You underestimated that. Gentle cries and tries to change position only result in painful spankings with his hand and disturbing chuckles from him. He likes it. He likes hearing your offended gasps and little cries as you endure.

You stare at him, taking him as best as you can after these days you had.

You roll your hips, trying to take what he gives you, as he takes you on the war table. The figurines are made of stone shake with every hard thrust he gives. You want to reach your height. You deserve it. Your eyes begin to water as he keeps taking you so violently.

“Such a whore.” He says when he spanks away. You nod, agreeing. Tears sting but you like it. You need to feel and deserve the ire he feels. The worst part is he knows. “You want to be in bed?”

He shakes his head. “And have your little cunny fucked again tonight, after being so disobedient? I think I'll do something else with you tonight.” He says thoughtfully. You feel his hands caress your behind. “Nothing has changed between us. You are my lamb. I'll fuck you senseless and just because you enjoy what I do with your body doesn't make me your lover or your friend. It just makes you pathetic and a good for nothing whore.”

“Angry are we? The truth does hurt.” That is why he hit you. Because he knows it deep down too. He is a craven. He is a craven who hides his cowardice by killing. You saw it at the field with Karst. How he cheated. You saw it with your father, how he killed the man just to send a message. And you see it now so clearly.

He stops to touch your behind.

“I'll have this hole soon too. It belongs to me regardless of your tantrums. Mine to fuck and to soil.” He whispers when circling it. You shiver and tremble. “In fact, why don't I show you, for your disobedient behaviour?” He smacks down with his full hand and you can only cry out. He does again and again and you keep crying for less. Or more.

You become overwhelmed by your desires and your wants. You like it too much. You shouldn't in any way. But you forget the pain of your bleeding heart when he's inside of you. You forget you are a worthless unloved bastard girl without a future when a Prince is taking you. Forcing yourself to relive the horrors he inflicted would be torture so you don't. Not when you are given an escape from it all.

His grunts become deep and animalistic. His hands tighten on your body as he braces himself. You try your best to get there too so you can finish alongside him. You chase that satisfaction. But as always he's faster and crueler handling you and coming with a brutal thrust that shatters your core. You whimper out loud as he exhales, still deep within you. He picks you up by your hips and takes you slower this time wiping away tears you didn't realize had fallen. You try your best to follow his lead and to find pleasure yourself. Your hips work to take him but without his stiffness its harder for you. Less rewarding too.

And all together you both stop. He has reached his pleasure. So he is done with you for tonight. He seems distracted. You wonder if you did help him calm his thoughts.

“I would've recalled if I ripped that off. How did you lose it?” He asks, pointing at the little flower that was ripped off on your dress. You are taken back by the question. You didn't suspect he would notice. That he would care.

You open your mouth trying to find an answer. Death. It'll result in death. “Lamb, I'm asking a question.” He says when firmly lacing his boots. You think of him tying your hands together just as firmly and shake the thought away.

You decide to be honest. Aemond won't discipline the boy anyway. One of his soldiers crimes resulted in the suicide of a servant. He won't do anything. “One of your soldiers. The one you sent to fetch me. He …he dragged me with him. I wasn't fast enough so he decided to punish me by destroying the dress.” You admit softly. “He said it could dress in the finest silks but I would never be a lady. I'd always be a whore and men would always know the difference.” You expect Aemond to laugh and agree. He is just quiet.

He is unreadable in fact.

Nervously you pick your nails and instantly stop it remembering his warning earlier. “I-I tried to explain that he-” you begin nervously. “He had no right to me or the dress. I did try to tell him I am yours, my Prince. There should be but one man destroying my dresses.”

“Mhm.” He sounds pleased. Good. Relieved, you sigh carefully smiling as well. “I suppose I should reward you for that.” He says with a sigh and an eyeroll. He sits down first. You are confused and follow him curious for your reward. You yelp as he grabs you, placing you on his lap. You are facing him now. You are aware you are on top.

You are shocked by the unfamiliar roles between the two of you. You feel confused and as much as a maiden as the first time. He looks back from below you, where you are atop and in full control. “I know you're still wet.” You study his pink lips closely as he speaks. “Go Finish.”

Hesitantly you buck your hips, taking his cock.

You let out a soft exhale not expecting it to feel this good. “Don’t you want to be the one doing this?’ You ask within the first few thrusts. He grins as he sits up a bit, making sure to have some sort of authority still. You are given a soft buck back that hits all the way as you gasp loudly.

“I am content. It's past time you worked for your pleasures and privileges.” He says. You nod agreeing despite not feeling that way at all. Your hips go faster as you take deeper penetrations from him. Your mouth produces sounds you didn't know it could make as you chase your satisfaction. Your hips hurt but you don't give up.

He joins. He grabs your hips and answers your thrusts just when you need it and are at a loss. Your cries sharpen and he doesn't stop just there. He has come to finish you off. You are taken roughly and cry once and twice before he forces you to come on his cock, sending out a satisfied cry and a happy soft hop. Aemond grunts too as you finish, placing your exhausted body next to him on the couch. You feel your sweating forehead and stare at him. He just circles your breasts refusing to look at you.

Something that seems to be a common theme between the two of you. When the sparks have sizzled out and hate is all that remains. A knock on the door sends you up. Aemond is quick to act too, covering your breasts and parts with his own shirt. He reaches for the sword. “What kind of assassin would knock?” You ask. Unless it's some sort of trick. But you doubt an Assassin has any time for tricks. And you also doubt they come in through the front door.

He glares.

But then he does seem to agree with your stance and puts the weapon away. He perfects himself sitting on the couch as he calls in whoever's awaiting. It's the Commander. You wonder what he wants.

Aemond's butt briefly covers your view as he throws a blanket over your body, snarling as he covers you. He is mad this moment was interrupted. You would never dare to admit it to a living soul. But as brief as it was, you enjoyed the cuddle session. You know in your heart that it's wrong and disturbing. But you did enjoy him holding you and being gentle.

“Ser Criston. I suppose you never had a woman; but when she cries out like that it's best to not interrupt the man enjoying her.” He informs his commander. You feel more warmth on your face as you nervously touch it. The commander gives a practiced nod at the Prince muttering an apology.

Aemond's good eye goes up and down as he takes in Cole's calm but stoic stance. You become aware of it too, tensing up. The commander won't just have come for minor complications. Something has happened downstairs.

“There has been an attack.” You cover your mouth horrified. Whatever power you had left in your arms is quickly taken from you. You see Aemond tense up. You sit up on the bed, trying to reach for your gown. Aemond only needs to glare to remind you of who decides when you dress. “We are still counting the bodies. We did kill some of the bandits. But others got away with food from the kitchen. Food we desperately need.”

He steps closer to the commander, only wearing his trousers. “I have hundred and eighty men stationed here. Are you telling me a bunch of peasants got the better of the King's soldiers?” The Commander avoids looking at the Prince, his brown eyes traveling to your own eyes.

Aemond steps closer still, forcing the Commander to look him in the eye. “Answer me!” The commander flinches briefly at the volume but does nod, accepting that Aemond deserves an answer. He speaks carefully.

“The bandits are loyalists to the Lady's father. The former Lord of Dolkburg.” You don't know what you are hearing. You suspected your father's loyalists died at the gate. Died at the battles. But they've risen up. For him. For what is right. Despite the evil in the world, the roots of Goodness cannot be uprooted. It'll find a way. Always.

The prince sees it differently than you do. He sees it as treason and annoyance. He knows they cannot be a big force to face. “Have those pathetic fucks not seen how I've made his own flesh kill him? How I've fucked his precious little daughter on her knees and shown her off to the square and she came on my cock? He is dead. There is nothing left to rebel for.” Your lips briefly open so you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from doing foolish things. For saying foolish things you want to scream and shout until your voice runs out and the air has left your chest. Words you had forgotten to speak, forgotten to think all seem possible and are known to you once again.

Ser Criston cannot agree with the Prince's brash words. You know they differentiate too much in that way. Despite one of them being of Royal blood, only one of them has acted princely. “They think differently.” He pauses unsure if he needs to continue this. “It appears the treatment of the girl only adds to the fire of anger.”

Your hope dies the moment Aemond turns his head back to you, anger burning. You shake your head already afraid as you tear up. They blame him. Which means …He'll blame you. “They can have her once I'm done with her. Not a moment sooner. Get these rebels found and rounded up. I'll have them watch me fuck my pet before forcing her to slit their throats.” He declares, sending Cole on his way again. He then turns to you. You shake your head afraid already.

You whimper afraid as he presses your head into the mattress. “P-please, I didn't command them. I didn't know anyone was still alive supporting my father.” You blurt out instantly. “I am good, I am loyal to you my Prince. I appreciate the privileges you've bestowed me and my sisters. I wouldn't dare take it for granted you know this, my prince, please.”

He just remains silent and somehow it is worse than any insult he could've called you. You beg in tears, as some hound. “Please, my Prince. Accept my sincerest apologies. It went well between us and I thought-”

“What did you think, little worthless slut?” Your jaw drops and closes instantly as he leans in, capturing your face with his long fingers. “Did you imagine me growing soft and gentle? Do you think I'd fall in love with you, cloak you and make you my lady? Did they drop you on your head as a babe? You're a bastard worthless whore. Your only privilege is carrying and mayhaps popping out my child, if I let you live that long.”

He sighs as you hold back your sobs. Without any reason or explanation he buries his fingers inside your cunt again, fucking you dry against his hands. He grabs your butt, forcing your hips to roll as you are pleasured. Tears of confusion and pleasure roll down your cheeks as he continues to take you for a good few moments. Then he has had enough judging by his slight increased breathing. You want to roll away and receive it laying.

“No.” He hits your behind with his hands, sending familiar tingles down your spine and legs. He grunts again as he finds your cunt, taking it sharply. He feels tighter and aggressive. He feels angry.

You know why and you find it cruel. You deny yourself the feeling. He chuckles only harder and grabs your face. You struggle to breath as he brings his mouth close to your ear and licks away your tears, when firmly kneading your breasts. “You are wet, filthy pet of mine.” He grunts in your ear. “Say it. Say you're a fifty pet.”

Killing so far arouses him, but he also likes how afraid you become and when you grovel for him, complying to the wicked commands and humiliate yourself in the process.

“I am a filthy pet.” You repeat after the Prince. He burst into laughter, amused at your shaking and fear. He grunts as he grabs your butt forcing you to take his erected red swollen length. “You'll do anything for me. You're so deliciously pathetic. Its why I can just force my cock down your cunt and have your people starve when I'm fucking you so violently you loose precious blood.” He kisses your cheeks after speaking these awful words.

“Now come. I know you've used the pleasure as a escape. Go on then. Escape for now and the return to the cage that is reality will hit only harder.” he is right. You know he is. Yet you take this escape. You eagerly buck against his front, taking it as much as you can.

“There she goes. The whore of Dolkburg.” He cruelly grins. “Do as you must, little pet. Ride out that small bit of triumph you feel now. Feel how my cock ravages your insides and feel how it only makes that cunt of yours wetter.”

“Please, my prince.” you beg. You aren't sure for what you beg. Are you begging him to stop or to continue, to have mercy or to punish you? To make him finish you or to make the torture stop?

There is a dangerous glimmer in his eye as he sighs, grabs something from the couch and instead of warning you he slashes it on your butt, causing you to bolt. He holds you tighter and fucks you once you try to get away. He sees it as a game and only takes you harder.

“Harder.” he commands lowly.

“Please!” you cry out.

You can only repeat the same word in a row, as he fucks you from behind. The taking becomes sharper and shorter as your gasps become moans and his breathing becomes grunting. You both make noises filling the library as the poor couch is put to good use. You cry out again, but Aemond has no mercy for you. “I meant what I said,” he hisses when penetrating you, forcing your butt against his cock. You whimper in response as waves of pleasure come and go. “I'll have you kill them. Your little traitor army will die and it'll be your hands that will be used.” You let out a strangled whimper and begin to fight the tears. He takes hold of your throat next, slightly squeezing it as he breathes out watching your teary eyes and pouting lips. As always, this does more to arouse him. He feels painful and big. You endure with as much grace as you can master but in the end Aemond is taking you from behind as a whore. You come, screaming and crying over his cock. You are released and fall off the couch, on your knees. You receive a slap in your face that sobers you from the pain and the pleasure. You must have looked confused as Aemond explains when still fucking you why you earned that. “You seem to have become a selfish little brat. Putting your own pleasure before mine.”

He is still angry. The danger hasn’t passed. You know better than to assume he will be gentle or kind. So you apologize for neglecting him for a moment. “It wasn't my intention. It…it happened so fast.” You whisper, afraid he’ll hurt you.

He mocks your facial expression by pouting, throwing you back on the couch. This time, you are facing his front. He just grabs your chin and mirrors your expression, making that one terrifyingly expressive eye wide as if he is scared too. “It always happens fast with you,” he pats your cunt and grabs it. “You like having it forced down your cunt and you like it when I give it a good warm layer of seed.” You wonder if he meant what he said. About you having his child. He circles your belly, expression back to that empty, hallow and stoic face that does not show the slightest of emotions. “I know you want to deny it, but the evidence is right here. You came my sweet. You came so fast and so ridiculously hard as well. I saw your eyes roll in your head as you fell. You're just an eager little slut,” he whispers. You give a sad, embarrassed nod. He chuckles. ‘’I had you a few times tonight. Yet I don’t think I want to part with you.’’ He confesses. You feel fear at those words. Is that good or bad news? He just leans in, until your noses touch and he can lick your tears again. ‘’Mhm, you’ll make it up to me tomorrow. I assume Cole will have found the traitors by then. We will tie them to wooden sticks and you, my beloved pet. You will cut their limbs and set them alight.’’ He whispers, tracing his fingers down your lips, opening your mouth. You feel his tongue slip in and his grunts become more animalistic as that one eye finally looks back, and you do not like how wide and joyful his expression is at these plans. He moans again against your lips, his hands painfully kneading and feeling your breasts as he slowly forces you to take him again.

You gasp as the annoying wood of the couch feels uncomfortable and hurts you this time, by how you are forced to lay. “It's hurting me.” He just releases a throaty moan at your confession. He repeats exactly what he did to ensure you feel it poke again. ‘’My Prince, it hurts.’’ You add, your voice a whimper. He chuckles, taking you faster. You watch him mouth you, his face inches from you as he just fucks his agression out on you. You try to remain from touching him back and instead focus on the ceiling. He forces your head back to his own with a smack, warning you to not try it again.

You groan in pain and he can only caress your face in response, his eye wider than you’ve ever seen it as he bucks again, taking you faster. You don’t try to think about it. You don’t want to think about what is happening here. You suspected it before. You feel your hips roll, over the wooden part of the couch that hurts you. A loud groan escapes you. ‘’You’re such a fool.’’ He murmurs, laughing. ‘’What did you think? Why did you do that?’’ To test him. To test your theory. To find proof and peace for your own sake.

‘’I was testing a theory.’’ You say, putting your thoughts out loud.

He seems curious to this, grinning as if he finds it adorable that your mind can even think at all. ‘’A theory? I’m all ears to hear what your peasant head has come up with.’’ He pats it too, patronizing. You try not to show your anger. He stops fucking for now.

‘’You enjoy hurting me.’’ You say, your voice not shaking at all. He stops smiling. It feels good to watch that smile die. He folds his arms, defensive.

‘’Of course I do.’’ He hides behind the monster again. ‘’Why else would I do so, if I didn’t enjoy it?’’ You sigh, struggling to find the right words. He experiences something else when hitting you. Something dark and twisted. You can’t put your finger on it.

‘’I mean, you…Your cock and…’’ You stutter, trying to bring it to words as he stares back at you, confused. ‘’You become a different man when you hurt me.’’ You conclude. He still stares back and you wonder if he cares at all that you just discovered something dark about him.

His brows slightly frown, and his perfect face becomes a ugly one. ‘’You put that awfully romantic. I don’t like your accusing tone.’’ He warns you, trying to make you scared again.

You feel the walls close in. ‘’It’s true, isn’t it? You feel aroused when you strike or hurt me.’’

He slowly tilts his head. ‘’And what about it?’’

‘’Ah,’’ he says with a little chuckle as you begin to cry, terrified. ‘’I do enjoy hurting you. I like watching those eyes of yours fill with terror and understanding. You bastards are always thinking you can defy the rules of nature, you cannot. You need someone to pin you down and to hold you down and fuck you senseless so you finally understand you are not atop of the foodchain, you are not even part of it.’’ You moan as his cock slams back inside of you. You try to fight him off, offended. ‘’You are below it all, you are on your knees, exactly where you belong as vermin.’’ He watches your expression closely, hands around your throat as he lightly chokes. ‘’That said, I won’t kill you. I will need someone to warm my bed and you do more than warm it, little slut of mine. You warm, wet, and wrinkle my sheets very well as if you were born for my cock.’’

He comes finally with a grunt. His cock leaves the tight and bloodied space he used so savagely. He simply wipes himself off with your dress as you remain there, legs hurting and blood and seed dripping down your legs. ‘’I meant what I said. Prepare yourself for tomorrow. We have executions planned.’’ You struggle to get up. He watches, amused. To your surprise, he sinks to his knees nearby you, faces inches removed. ‘’You think you know me by now. You still have no idea, not even the slightest clue what I am capable of.’’ He whispers against your lips. ‘’Tomorrow, your town will bleed and burn and you will be by my side as my obedient little pet.’’ You cry silently. ‘’You begged me before to just use you as my whore, and I admit you are a quick eager student. Mayhaps a bit too eager, sometimes. I wouldn’t be a good Master if I didn’t push you from time to time to break your boundaries and broaden your horizons. You never cared for your womb, for your body. I see that now. You do care for your hands covered in blood.’’ He looks at your hands, where fingernails are broken. He meets your eyes again and you see something worse than the emotionless monster. You see obsession and hatred. ‘’We’ve known each other barely a week, and I already made you a kinslayer and a murderer. I wonder what else I can turn you into, with the right discipline and motivation for you.’’ You endure his words silently. ‘’Do not worry about being shared, or being fucked by my Commander.’’ His grip tightens and you understand he is warning you to not try anything with another man. ‘’You will only know me, only feel me, only desire me, only hate me and only endure me.’’ You freeze at these words, worried of their meaning. He leans in and kisses your mouth, without the use of his tongue this time. ‘’Get dressed, little pet of mine. Time you went back to your cage and slept.’’ You collect your dress, hurriedly dressing. ‘’And Pet?’’ He stops and looks at the dress where a flower is still missing. ‘’The first one to die, will be that soldier who ruined your dress. I want to hang him outside, pierce his innards so his liquid drips and drips,'' he takes a big pleased sigh as he finally too dresses. ''But that is all for but morrow. You won't be rid of me so soon.'' He pauses. ''Mayhaps, I do enjoy hurting you. But you'd be a fool to deny you enjoy being hurt. You enjoy me being violent, and you wet so fast when I use force and hunt you down as a little innocent deer and mount you without giving a fuck.''

''I don't enjoy you killing.'' You whisper.

''Yet.'' Your throat is cut off from air but he does not have to choke you for it. He did it with his words alone. The door is closed and you are left alone in the library, with only Aemonds unreadable battleplans and the figure dragons to keep you company.

i imagine him lookin at reader as this, smug bastard. but if you liked this pls let me know and if you didnt im very sorry. Its a older work of mine but i gotten so much praise of it that i continued it.

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