Hello. For the headcanons, is there a possibility to have times when Aemond couldn't control his body in regards to his wife?
⚜️ The first time is on their wedding night. Aemond likes to think that he is superior to most men. Reserved, controlled, educated, refined. Yet when faced with the naked form of his new wife for the first time in his bed he realizes he is no better than the rest of them. His baser instincts take over, and he just hopes it was pleasant for the both of them.
⚜️ Another, more common, time is after training. His heartbeat pumping in his ears. Adrenaline racing through his veins. That hot Targaryen blood running through him and his eye lands on his sweet wife, poised to bring him a cool towel and some comfort from the hot sun. Aemond would seek more than just comfort from her then.
⚜️ After he fights with his brother. It is not nearly as often, but Aegon is still very adept at needling him right where it hurts. Even if they are older now. He cannot strike his king but he can take his frustrations out on his wife. He would never hit her either, but a sharp smack on the rump while he mounts her will suffice. Aemond is always apologetic after this one.
⚜️ When she is pregnant with his child. There is something perverse about it that Aemond is aware of, but also something primal about seeing her great with child. He is drawn to her. Protective. Dutiful. But also incredibly aroused that she is growing their babe inside her and that she carries his legacy in her belly. Luckily at these times his wife is also incredibly eager for their marriage bed so this meets both their needs.
How would you (if you were Ryan Condal) have fleshed out book Aemond in s1 without woobifying him too much?
Good question anon!
If we're going book!Aemond and keeping the book timeline, I think there's very little chance of woobification because Aemond plays a much more overtly antagonistic role in F&B from the start. I think lots of HotD fans, even those who have read the book, kind of mentally default to the show version of Driftmark, but the book version has him pushing a 3 year old into dragon poop and he's absolutely beating the shit out of Jace when Luke-- who is 5-- runs up and slashes his eye. Baela and Rhaena aren't there so there's really no "stealing Vhagar" plotline, and while it's 2 on 1, Aemond won the fight, taunts them by calling them bastards, which makes them engage again, and is once more winning the fight when Luke gets in a lucky shot. The same criticisms of the adults still apply of course, and Viserys is still equally useless at acknowledging Aemond's injury, but it is harder to feel sorry for the guy when he is the one doing the bullying and the bullying just so happened to backfire horribly. And I think that while it is true that for Alicent, this incident proves once and for all that Viserys does not care what happens to her children, what book!Aemond takes from this is that he will never allow himself to be beaten by someone he considers his "lessers" again (and the Strong boys are half his age, so this is a humiliating defeat, not necessarily something he'd want to be coddled over). There is this fanon idea of Aemond, is the dutiful son who does what he is told, who does everything right but gets shat on for it, and who finally gets sick of playing by the rules and snaps. But Aemond (and I'd argue this even applies broadly to show!Aemond) is actually quite defiant and combative from the start, often to the detriment of himself and his family. Not only is he not as competent as he believes himself to be, he causes a lot of his own problems and then gets mad when others do not want to help him fix them.
I do not necessarily think Aemond needs a sad backstory to be a good character, and I've never cared for the show's take on his villain origin story. The bullied kid becomes a mass murderer is a tired trope in 2025 but I think it falls flat with Aemond in particular for a number of reasons that I won't get into here (and Aemond's messy and incoherent S2 arc is a direct product of the show's inability to pull off his heel turn-- I could write an entire post about that in and of itself). I think if I were adapting book!Aemond, I would lean into Aemond's problems with authority and the massive chip on his shoulder that comes from him being a powerful, warlike, ambitious man with no outlet for his ambitions. Not only is he not the secondborn son, he's pushed further down the line of succession by Viserys keeping Rhaenyra as his chosen heir. He's never knighted, despite being an excellent fighter, is not betrothed during Viserys' lifetime so he will have no holdings of his own, and although he accepts his role as the "enforcer" of the family, he clearly believes he would make a better king than Aegon, whose claim he must nevertheless uphold. And to be clear, I do not believe book!Aemond has studied history and philosophy (or the Valyrian language for that matter) to any greater extent than Aegon has, he is simply a warrior whereas Aegon is not, but to Aemond that is all that matters.
So I would show Aemond as man who has followed the tenets of Westerosi masculinity but who has not, in his own view, reaped the rewards that he believes should be his due. I would juxtapose this with Aegon, who is the eldest son but who has never been treated as an eldest son and therefore does not even attempt to perform the swordbro variety of Westerosi masculinity because what would be the point? It would get him nowhere and worse than nowhere, it might cast him as a true threat to Rhaenyra's inheritance. Aemond's disdain for Aegon therefore would come not from Aegon's failure to embrace his "duty," because there is no duty for Aegon to embrace, and Aemond doesn't care about duty anyway, he cares about power. Aegon's hedonism makes him soft in Aemond's estimation, and that is what Aemond cannot tolerate (which is not to say he does not love his brother, he just does not respect him). In contrast, Aemond has learned that there are few problems that violence cannot solve provided you have an unlimited capacity for violence, and his cruelty grows in proportion to his ability to enact violence upon others. The more he is enabled by his family (who also cannot tell him no or punish his misdeeds in any significant way because Vhagar is too important to the war effort), the bolder he grows. Remember, there is a reason why Aemond, much like Maegor, turns his nose up at the idea of making a trip to Dragonstone to claim a hatchling (which, despite Viserys' condescending phrasing, is very likely how Aegon claimed Sunfyre). No mere hatchling will do for Aemond, it has to be a war dragon. He needs to be, if not the one wearing the crown, then the one with the most firepower, the one who cannot be refused.
Even Aemond's one canonical romance, with Alys, is one in which he claims her as a "war prize," and Alys feeds his ego with visions of the future, giving him an excuse to abandon his allies and family. He takes Alys along with him when he seeks out Daemon, as she has become a sort of talisman, proof that he will emerge victorious-- she has seen it in her visions, after all, or so he believes. Soon the war itself becomes secondary Aemond's own self aggrandizement and his need to justify all of his previous acts with ultimate victory, not for the greens, but for Aemond himself. And again, I would contrast this with Aegon, who undergoes a transformation during the war, his sense of self shattered and pieced back together again in a way that he never truly recovers from. He shows himself to be tougher and more tenacious than anyone expected, but the cost of this transformation is his body, his health, his dragon, and most of his family. In the end Aegon is exhausted by the effort it takes to survive, clinging to the last shreds of his humanity in his refusal to execute a child, and increasingly more concerned with how his family is remembered than with his own legacy, commissioning statues for his brothers yet none for himself.
In Aemond's final days, he does not negotiate, he does not coordinate with his armies or his Hand (who is of course long dead due to Aemond's refusal to ), he does not lay patiently in wait or spring any traps; he burns the countryside indiscriminately in search of one man, an effort which brings him no closer to his goal. As he burned the countryside, Aemond must have felt like a god on dragonback, immortal and unstoppable, and yet mere months later the dragons (and Aemond) are no more. I would portray him as a man with more power than sense, whose actions helped ensure that an army that had no real reason to keep fighting would nevertheless refuse to surrender. Ultimately, Aemond and Vhagar can be viewed as a cautionary tale about the might makes right aspect of Targaryen dragonpower. Aemond thinks he can ignore the existing power structures because he has Vhagar and no one can stop him or punish him, and yet his misuse of that power dooms his faction, much as the Dance itself speeds the end of the Targaryen dynasty.
summary: after a training accident, Aemond's wife takes care of him. In more ways than one.
tags: heterosexual sex, cowgirl, massage, hand job, cum eating, cranky Aemond is a good boy for his wife, mentions of the other members of the Green but not present.
Training accidents were as common as breathing if one wanted to master the sword.
If one wanted to hold a blade, then one must also be prepared to suffer its bite. Aemond was well aware of this. Even though it was just training, play fighting for the knights & instructors brought in from all over Westeros to teach the prince, he had been cut before. Nothing serious. Nothing like his eye. He wishes it had been. It would make this latest injury less wounding than the others.
A simple misstep, that was all. His own clumsiness was what put him in this bed. His leg wasn’t broken or maimed, but twisted in his fall, to the point that he could put no weight on it. Or at least that was what the maesters said.
2 weeks. That was the punishment for his own mistake. He was not to leave this bed save to relieve himself and the few moments a day he was granted to stand & test his legs progress. Each day was a new torment. Not for the pain, Aemond could handle that, but the failure of trying his leg and only have it betray him again & again. He wondered how his father did it all those years trapped in his bed. Aemond would have begged for death sooner.
“Husband,” the prince looked up from his window and thoughts of limping over to throw himself out of it, when his wife’s voice came into the room.
One of his few constant visitors during his confinement. Helaena came to visit him but was busy with her children. Aegon only came once, to taunt him about his trip more than anything before he left and a back handed ‘get better Aemond the Fierce!’. His mother came as well but flapped between concern and scolding for his ‘recklessness’. She was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for him, though her concern was not needed. Aemond did not wish to feel more like an invalid than he already did. “What is it?”
“It is time to change the bandage on her leg.” To keep it straight. To keep him bound, he thought with a spat, although Aemond arched a brow at the comment.
“Where is the maester?” His wife was many things, but she was no practitioner of medicine nor magic.
She sighed. “Did you really expect them to come back willingly after last time?” Aemond pursed his lips.
Under the best of circumstances, Aemond was aware that he was not the most agreeable person in the realm. Could anyone really blame him? His existence had taught him over & over that it was better to lash out and cut first, lest you be the one who is sliced. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t a mad man like some of his ancestors. And attached to this bed the only weapon at his disposal was his words. He had cursed, jeered, and ranted, honestly uncharacteristic of himself, at the maester who had attended to his leg the day before and had the nerve to tell him his progress was splendid. If it was so splendid then why was he still in this bed? If he was such a great man of knowledge and skill, why hadn’t he healed him yet?! He should go back to whatever dung heap he crawled out of and beg alms for to the gods for wasting a fine Citadel education on an incompetent!!
The prince said a few more unkind things before he forbade any of them from touching him again. He did not think they would take him seriously.
“So, they sent you to do the work of a common barrio healer since they do not wish to do their jobs?”
“I think it was more that they thought you wouldn’t scratch at me. More fool they then, hn?”
Aemond sunk further into his pillows, sulking. He doesn’t mean to scratch at her. He doesn’t mean to scratch at any of them, honestly. He just wanted to get out of his bed and go on with his life. To have the world move on around him, to grow weak and irrelevant in this bed, was the real punishment. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. “…thank you…for helping me…”
“You’re welcome Aemond.”
How quick she was to accept his apology. How quick she was to help him, already coming to his side despite his scratching, when he needed her. No wonder he was always alone….
The prince did what he could for her as he raised his leg from the pillow propping it up and held it there while she unwrapped the old dressing. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” It was not meant as a slight. Just a genuine curiosity on if she knew the proper way to wrap his injury.
His wife just chuckled. “Yes, Aemond. Despite not wanting to come in here on their own, the maesters did instruct me on how to do it properly.” Cowards, he thought. “There! All done.”
Aemond looked at his leg with his good eye and tried to flex at his foot. His nostrils flared at the persistent pain, but it was wrapped correctly. He was impressed. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I want you healed as soon as possible as well.” Her hand reached for his on the bed and clasped it. “In fact…I was told of another treatment….one that might help with the…circulation in your leg.”
“Oh?” Aemond was curious about that. Trapped in this bed, his legs were not getting the work out that they normally would. Training aside, the walk around the castle was enough exercise for most lords. He hadn’t been able to go more than a few steps for days. His legs teetered between weightlessness and the sharp pricks of falling asleep all the time. “Will it improve my condition?”
“It….could…” She seemed unconvinced. Avoiding, even. But perhaps that was because the last person who made remarks about the improvement of his condition was threatened to be fed to Vhagar. “Will you let me try it?”
What was there to lose, he thought, and Aemond nodded before he helped her take off his lower bed linens so both his legs were bare. A small vial appeared out from her pocket, and she poured some of its contents onto her hands before rubbing them together and placing them on his leg. “Just…try to relax for me.”
A hefty ask, but he does try. All he could do recently was ‘try to relax’. ‘Rest, my prince’, ‘you need time to heal’. It was all he had heard for the past days, to the point that any word close to ‘relax’ had almost the opposite effect on him. But for her, he does try. For her it worked a little. His shoulders finally untensing. Looking at her in the candlelight. Soft feelings swelling at the touch of her soft hands. “Does it feel good?”
“Yes.” He answered, almost without thinking. It did feel good. He didn’t realize how stiff his leg was until this moment.
Aemond let out a deep exhale. Not really a sigh, just the release of all the air in his lungs and tension built in his body. His eye closed as he laid back and let his wife work. They aren’t strong, but persistent. He continued to enjoy until he felt her hands shift up higher. Up his calf where his injury was to above his knee. “What are you doing?”
“What??” Her shocked face was particularly adorable in the soft light. Wide, wild eyes. Body frozen save for a soft tremble in her shoulders. “I..I’m rubbing your leg. I told you.”
“My injury is not there though.” He told her logically. Gaze still fixed on her for any kind of reveal.
“I…I know…” Her hands shift to seem to want to move away from him, but she willed them to stay still. “I just thought…maybe there was some other tension I could help you with….”
It was Aemond’s turn to be shocked, but he doesn’t show it on his face like she does. His wife was a lady. A demure, kind, noble one at that. Though she wasn’t nearly as boring & cow eyed as the other noble ladies on offer to him at the time of his betrothal, or so Aemond assumed as he didn’t pay much attention to any of them, boldness like this was not heard of in their marriage. She never denied him. Seemed fond of when they were together; or at least made all the right noises like she did. But it was always he who initiated such acts in their bedroom. To see her offer, and on offer, as he finally took in her appearance and the thin robe she had come to him in, Aemond would not deny that it was quite arousing.
Without another word, Aemond parted his legs further to give her room. If this was her intention, he would not deny her. There was a flush on her cheeks that bleed down her neck towards the V of her robe when he did this. Her resolve seeming to waiver, and disappointment started to drip into his chest at the prospect he may have ruined this too with his terrible attitude, but she continued.
The prince sighed. Gladdened to feel her hands on him again and closed his eye with a newfound desire for his treatment, now that he knew what was going on. “Higher.”
“Here?”
Her coquettish tone was a tonic to his ears. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying touching him and playing with him. His cock jumped as it filled fuller. More aroused by the fact that his wife truly did want him than her hands close, but not close enough, to his member. “Higher.”
“Here?”
Aemond opened his eye and genuinely growled at his wife. Though this game was amusing, enticing, it had been days since he’d found release. Being stuck in this bed did not really spur a person on towards desire. And though she laid with him at night like a good wife she had been spared from her ‘wifely duties’ for some time as Aemond was either still in too much pain from his leg, or unable to move it to perform the act, or in too bad of a mood to make the effort. Having her close. Feeling her touch. It was like the flood gates opened on a dam he had long since locked up and threw away the key on. “Please….”
His kind, noble, demure wife took pity on him, and also took his cock in her hand. Aemond’s head tilted back as he moaned. Her soft hands stroking his member from under his night shirt slowly, deliberately. She had touched him before, so she knew how he liked it, but honestly she could have touched him anyway she liked. Like a clumsy novice that first night they were together, and he still would have melted in her hands.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes.” Again, without thought. But headier this time. More needy. He opened his eye to look upon his wife and found her staring at him. Those bright eyes darkened with desire. He’d never seen it before; mostly because when they were together her face was either buried in his chest, or shoulder, or in the pillows. Aemond bit his bottom lip hard. Trying not to cum at just the sight of her.
“It’s ok.” She told him in a whisper. Like it was a secret between the two of them. “You can let go husband. Will you let go for me?”
It was the softest command that Aemond had ever heard, and yet it forced him to obey more than any other. His back pressed further back into the pillows as his head tilted back again. His cock spasming in her hand as his seed leapt out from the tip. Covering her hand and perhaps getting some on her pretty robe by her knee. He would have to get her another one.
He opened his eye again after coming down from his high. Just in time to see her lick his seed off the palm of her hand. “What are you doing?”
“Well, the royal seed is sacred, is it not?” Her grin was soft, but mischievous. “We should not waste it.”
Aemond’s hand darted out to grab hold of her arm and drag her down to him in a deep, needy kiss. Apparently the flood gates he thought were released earlier were in truth just a leak in the levees. This was when the dam broke now. The need he had for her burning so hot that he could almost taste blood at the back of his tongue, his blood was boiling so hot.
He tried to spread his legs wider to make more room for his wife, but when he moved, he was reminded (painfully) of his injury. “Damnit!” The prince hissed against his wife’s lips. The throbbing in his leg almost in tandem with his cock.
“Sssh…it’s ok Aemond.” He wanted to bite at her soft words.
It was not ok! None of this was ok! He was injured, in pain, stuck in this bed, and now he couldn’t even fuck his wife! He felt useless. He felt angry. He felt humiliated not being able to do things as a man should, and he just wanted to get back to normal!
Before he could tell her any of this, however, his wife pulled back and removed her robe from her body. Mesmerizing in the fire light. No Valyrian alabaster, but still just as dazzling to Aemond. Shift discarded, his wife raised her hips and inched closer to hover them over his own. “The maester said not to move unless absolutely necessarily.” He wanted to argue that laying with his wife was absolutely necessarily, particularly in this moment, but all his words left him on a moan as she lowered herself onto him. “So you just stay there. L-Let me take care of you.” The little stammer in her voice as she started rolling her hips almost sent Aemond into a frenzy, but he endured.
He genuinely couldn’t move with her on top of him like this and his position on the bed. Though why would be want to? For the first time since his accident, Aemond was actually ecstatic to be stuck here in this bed. His wife lovingly impaling herself on his member. Riding him with skill just short of a dragon rider. If he had the wits still about him, he would have chuckled at his own joke. ‘Dragon rider’. As it was though he was stupid with lust. Dumb, witless, helpless at her mercy as she took from him everything and gave him back so much. He still had brains at least to return the favor.
His wife cried out when he reached up to cup her breast. The weight of them in his hands something he missed. Aemond does not get a lot of time to enjoy them, however, as his wife suddenly fell forward. Covering his body with her own. Hips still moving but at a much snappier pace with the depleted gap between them. He didn’t care though. His hands just repositioned themselves on her other mounds at her backside and pressed her to move faster.
“A-Aemond!” Her cries were his music. The tempo in which he set a new rhythm.
The wet sound of their sexes kissing along with their actual kissing fill the room, until it all stopped in one bright, shining moment of his wife shaking on top of him while her fists tried to fight his pillows and he spilled inside her this time.
He wished he could hold her like this for longer. Her weight a comfort, like a blanket, in his arms. But she rolled over onto his non-injured side to lay beside him. It was good enough. “Do you feel better now?”
Aemond looked down at her, having to turn his head completely as to not just look at her with the sapphire in his eye, realizing at last what this was about. Her idea of a good will effort. To lift his spirits and relieve his tension. Maybe keep him from trying to execute more of the maesters in the castle. “Yes. I’m feeling better.”
She smiled, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Good.”
The fingers from the hand around her own shoulders played with her hair as he stared at the ceiling. “Was this all just for me though?”
His wife looked at him with a perplexed look, but then realized what he was asking and blushed. She was smart enough to figure it out. “Not…all of it. I did want you to be in better spirits but…I have missed you.”
The corner of Aemond’s lips ticked up. Pleased, and pleased with himself. He did not think his sexual prowess was worth much compared to his prowess with a sword or strategy. But to hear that his wife wanted him, truly wanted him, was all the praise he would ever need. “So, you came up with this idea to satisfy both of us, ābrazyrys.”
“It wasn’t….all my idea…” Aemond arched a brow at his wife’s words. Curious now where she had got the idea from, as it had clearly come from somewhere. “Aegon commented on your bad mood and how someone should ‘cheer you up’. He gave me the idea, but the rest of it was all my doing.”
Aemond wasn’t sure which comment he was more shocked about. The fact that his brother knew how he was faring in his recovery, or the fact that he made lewd comments to his wife. He was battering between feelings of an odd sense of touched and white hot furry, but he decided to just let it go for now and enjoy his wife. “Well, thank you, regardless. In future I will try not to scratch at you while I am still confined to this bed. Lest you ask.”
She giggled when he kissed the top of her forehead. “And the maesters?”
“They are on their own.” Idiots. “I make no promises on their safety, but I will…endeavor to be of better character in the future.” At least not threaten to feed them to Vhagar. That seemed a reasonable adjustment.
summary: Aemond's wife wishes to have a discussion on the future of their family, following the birth of their latest child [ based on this, I guess now series, from part i & part ii of this work. warning: spicy content ]
The prince looked up from the crib where his newborn lay. Already washed and swaddled. Resting comfortably beside its dragon egg of pale violet & gold. The visitors and well-wishers of his family had not long left. Come to see the babe and offer congratulations to the mother. His sister and mother anyway. “Yes, what is it?”
He was curious now. His wife was not one to catch her tongue with him. So for her to ask if she would speak to him meant it must be something important. Something for her to be nervous about as well, judging by how she plucked at the embroidery of the blanket. “I…I would like to take a break from having children. For a while.”
Aemond was stunned. His back went straight and his eye fixed on [Y/N] square. “You don’t want to have any more children with me?”
“That’s not what I said Aemond.” She corrected quickly. “I just…I would like a break for a bit. We’ve been married now nearly 8 years, and I’ve been pregnant for half of them.”
The prince hummed in his throat as he looked away. A clear sign that she had a point and just didn’t want to admit it.
Taking three long steps Aemond came to sit on the edge of the bed. Careful not to jostle it too much as his wife had just been out of labor a few short hours ago. “So, you do not wish to not have any more children with me?”
His wife smiled and reached out to take his hand. “No. I do not wish that. But, it would be nice to give my body a break. Perhaps get to know the ones we have a bit more. It feels sometimes as though I know very little about them somedays as I am preparing for the next.”
Aemond supposed he could see the logic in that.
Amena was getting older now. Lovelier and more brilliant by the day. She would need her mother more than ever soon. Balerya and Braedon were still young, but getting more mischievous the more mobile they became. And Jeharessa had only just left her mother’s breast to make room for their, at present, unnamed sibling to take over. Perhaps his wife did have a point.
“Very well.” Aemond agreed. “We can take a break for a while.”
His wife sighed and her shoulder seemed to sink at his answer. “Did you worry I would be mad, issa jorrāelagon?”
“Not mad, persay.” She told him. “Just disappointed.”
Aemond grumbled again. Then he leaned in to kiss his wife. “I am neither.” He assured her. “But does this mean we are taking a break from all matters, issa jorrāelagon?”
He watched his wife blink in surprise. Then bite her lip shyly as she looked away. “Well…we will for a while. As you know. But…no. That is not my intention.”
The prince smirked. Amused that she would attempt coy, after the hunger she showed when they were together, but he would play along. “Good. Perhaps it would be nice to just have time, just for the two of us, for a change.”
The doors to their room then burst open. Loud, scampering feet across the stone, as Amena raced in past her nurses and around the bed. Followed by her much slower siblings. “We want to see the baby!”
“I don’t think we will have time for ‘just the two of us’ for many years, issa jorrāelagon.” His wife teased. To which Aemond groaned.
summary: Aemond had not been joking when he said they would work on another child after their first was born. Aemond never joked. [ part ii of this work ]
tags: heterosexual sex (m/f), fingering, breeding kink, mentions of past pregnancy, use of High Valyrian, Aemond so in love with his wife that he might fall over.
The fire was warm as it crackled in the hearth. Staying off the coming chill of the cooler months settling in upon them.
Aemond stared into the hypnotic flames. His wine from dinner at his left while his wife sat in her twin seat at his right, wrestling with the babe in her arms. “Stop fighting little one.” She whispered under her breath at their child. To which Aemond had to scoff quietly as his cheeks raised in a smirk. You might as well tell a bird not to fly, if it was one of his children.
His beloved wife had given him the child he had asked for. A beautiful, strong, silver-haired paragon. With her mother’s eyes instead of his own, but no less the perfect Targaryen jewel. They named her Amena, after much debate of naming her Alyssa or Alysanne after his grandmothers. Truly they had considered it but, in the end, Aemond wanted his children to be their own person for as much as they could. So much of their lives would not be their own; their duties, their battles, their matches. Let them at least have their names.
The princess eventually settled and suckled at her mother’s breast for a time before a nurse came in to take her to the nursery. Though the Keep kept some of the finest wet nurses in all Seven Kingdoms, his wife insisted on giving their child her first & last feedings every day. No exceptions. He knew she would make an excellent mother, even before their child had been born.
The nurse gathered the babe from his wife’s arms, kneeling down to let her kiss Amena’s soft crown, before she came over to Aemond and did the same. “Sleep well, riñītsos.” He whispered to her, before she was carried away and the two of them were left alone.
His wife sighed heavily once the door closed. Slouching and sliding down into her chair in a very relaxed, but undignified, manner. “So, what shall we do for the rest of our night husband?”
“I want another child.”
Understandably, his wife was surprised. It was not the response one would often expect to hear when asking how they should spend the evening before bed. Cards. Reading. Surely not perpetuating a dynasty. “Did I not just give you that one?”
Aemond chuckled as she pointed towards the door where the nurse had disappeared through. “Yes. You did. But I would like us to have another.”
“Really? And what brought on this sudden change in perspective?”
He doesn’t know if he should tell her that it was not a ‘sudden’ change in perspective. Since that night they conceived Amena, Aemond’s goal had been to fill his wife and their wing of the castle with children. He just didn’t realize how persistent the urge would be once they had one.
“I thought you wanted Amena to have siblings.”
“I do,” she agreed, which was a good start, “but I did not think you meant now. Perhaps when they are older. I just got my body back.”
His eye roamed over his wife’s figure. Back nearly to where it had been before and still beautiful, but he would be lying if he said he had not been thoroughly attracted to her those nine months she had been pregnant. Seeing her swell heavy with his child. Watching her body change. Her breasts grow heavy. It almost set Aemond to drool.
“I thought you said you liked being pregnant.” He reminded her, as he stood up and knelt in front of her chair. The heat from the fire on his back almost as hot as his gaze fixed on her.
He knew that pregnancy wasn’t easy. Seeing his mother, his sister, and now his own wife go through it, he was aware it was not the tranquil beauty & reverence people made it out to be. But he did not think his wife despised it. She commented often on how she loved carrying their child, even amidst the complaints.
“Well, it…was an experience…I did not hate it.” He could see her waver as he took her hand in his. Good. Aemond did not think of himself as the clever charmer, full of charisma, like his brother was, but he was not without his own Targaryen silver tongue.
“Do you not want to give Amena a brother?”
“Is that what this is about?” Aemond stopped kissing her fingers at the sharp shift in her tone and looked up at her. “You don’t want another child. You want a son?” His silver tongue might not be as polished as he thought.
When she had been pregnant, she had asked him what he was hoping for and Aemond said he did not care. Which had been true. Sons carry a man’s name, but when you have the name ‘Targaryen’ the point was moot. And, as an avid learner of history, he knew that there were some Targaryen women that carried the name higher & finer than some of the men. If Amena had been male, he would have rejoiced all the same. But clearly now his wife was thinking that maybe he had hoped for a son and been disappointed. That they could try again and ‘get it right’. That was not what he meant.
“No. I have no more of a wish for a son than daughter. We could have 15 princesses, it would not bother me.”
“15??” His wife repeated with a laugh. Her concern and ire waning quickly. “I am not giving you 15 children, of any variety.”
“But you’ll give me another one, eh?”
Aemond lifted up on his knees. Back to seducing his wife as he leaned in close to her. His lips brushed against hers softly, before they traveled down her jaw to her neck. His wife sighed in his ear. Sinking further into her chair as she tilted her head back. Relaxed and pliable under his touch.
He continued to kiss her while his hands moved to undo the lacings in the front of her evening gown. A sharp gasp came to his ear, followed by a moan, as his cool hands slithered in to touch her breast. They were sensitive and tender. She had told him as much. The newfound weight of them in his hands from what they had been before made him moan as well and a shiver raced down her spine when he pulled the gown down to expose them fully.
“Aemond….” She sighed out as he kissed along the edge of her breast. Imagining another babe of silver at her left since Amena seemed to favor her right.
“Let us to bed, issa jorrāelagon.”
His wife nodded eagerly and Aemond rolled up to his feet with all the grace his training allowed him, before he offered her his hand. She of course took it, and he pulled her to her feet and against him. Holding her there for a moment to look down at her before he gave her another kiss on the lips and led them to bed.
As they were already in their evening clothes, the matter of getting undressed was easy. Aemond laid his wife on the bed and was quick to catch her arm before it moved to cover herself. She had become shy about her body and being naked in front of him since giving birth. A trend he hoped would pass. He certainly had not given her any indication that he did not still find her desirable. His hard cock stroked against the interior of her thigh, just in case she needed further encouragement.
She moaned quietly as his member brushed against her soft skin, then leaned up to kiss him. Aemond is happy to meet her. Her lips are soft as well. He always thought that. Everything about her was soft in comparison to his hard lines and, well, everything. It was why they were perfect together. Why the world needed more of their two halves in one whole, to make it better & perfect as well.
“Open for me.” He told his wife as his fingers brushed against her thigh as well to spread them that little bit further to give him entry.
She does, and his fingers slid in to toy with her already damp sex. “See. You may lie, issa jorrāelagon, but this part of you cannot. You want me to put another babe in you, don’t you?”
“Aemond…” Her voice sighed out his name as her head tipped back whilst his fingers pressed in.
“You want another Targaryen fire in your belly, yes?”
“I just want you inside me, Aemond.” She insisted and he smirked.
“I will be. And I will be every night until we make a new scion, if you’ll have me.” His thumb brushed over her clit. Swollen and beaded out as his fingers continue to thrust inside her. His pretty wife bowed her back. Called his name and begged him to enter her. “Tell me true, wife.” He whispered in her ear as she was nearly close to crying with want. “Do you want me to fill you up with my seed and plant a new babe in your womb?”
“Yes!” She finally admitted. “Yes Aemond, I do! I want another babe. To give that to you. I want you to fuck another child into me like you did before! Please, please, give it to me Aemond!”
The prince gripped his wife’s hair and pulled her in for a hard kiss. A reward for her honesty. As he was doing that, he pulled his fingers from her cunt and lined his cock up to refill it. Sheathing all of him in her warmth in just a single thrust. “Hells Aemond!”
He gave her but a moment to adjust before he started thrusting into her. Those beautiful, full breasts of hers bouncing obscenely in front of him. His eye roaming down to her again flat stomach and imagining it full again, before traveling lower to where there sexes meet and watched his cock thrust hard to put a child into her.
“A-A-Aemond!” His wife cried out. Voice stammered by his thrusts. Hands clinging to the bedding as her legs wrapped around him.
“Not going to let me go, are you issa jorrāelagon.”
“Never.” She told him. With this look in her eyes that shot Aemond right to his soul.
He grabbed hold of her arm and flipped them up while they kissed. Her legs still wrapped around him as she was now seated neatly in his lap as he thrust up. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” The sweet words somehow tainted a little with all the wanton, animal panting between them, but no less meaningful. “Now give me our son.”
Aemond groaned. His back teeth grinding while his wife’s hips were grinding into his lap. He held her still and flush against him as his cock burst forth deep inside. She moaned sweetly against his ear as he filled her. Not letting go until he was sure every drop was inside his wife, then laid her down on the mattress. “Just the once, husband?”
“Do not tempt me, wife.” Aemond warned her. Both remembering the mad frenzy that had been their first bout to conceive. “Did you really mean it?” He asked when they were settled in bed for just sleep now. “Would you really want a son?”
The conversation earlier had led him to believe that she was not interested in one, but then her remark a moment ago made him question. Although Aemond was not fool enough to believe what a person said in the throws of passion anymore than what a person said when they had imbibed.
“Hmm…I have no opinion really.” She confessed. Settling into her spot on the bed between her pillow and his chest. “I know that is what everyone hopes for us. More Targaryen sons.” Aemond hummed once. He wouldn’t patronize his wife by telling her that that wasn’t true. “But, having one of each wouldn’t be so bad.” Aemond looked down at his wife just as she looked up at him. A shared moment between them. “I am not giving you 15 children though.”
Aemond smirked at her quip. “We shall see, now won’t we.”
*****
riñītsos: little one, little child
issa jorrāelagon: my love
Amena (origin, Arabic): meaning trustworthy, loyal, protected. [Not a Targaryen name but sounded pretty close, in my opinion]
The Street of Silk was never quiet, but they were usually a bit more subdued this time of night. Aemond had planned for it this way.
Leaving the comfort of the palace to find comfort somewhere else, the prince always snuck out under the cover of darkness and returned just the same. No one the wiser. No one able to catch him and mock that he would be out here with whores instead of in bed with his wife. No one able to know what he was really doing here….
The prince adjusted his cloak to pull around him to make his way back to the secret tunnels of the castle. He rounded the corner and paused as he caught a glimpse of another figure in the streets. Not unusual, but not the usual sort either. Aemond’s good eye scanned the potential witness and noticed that their cloak was made of much finer material than any other in Flea Bottom. Too nice for peasants, though it clearly made efforts to seem plain.
Aemond growled through his teeth as he realized who it was. Even with the cloak, those whisps of silver hair that snuck out of the hood are a dead giveaway. Although Aemond had already memorized the gait. “What are you doing out here?” He hissed at his wife as he appeared behind her like a shadow.
You spun around fast. Wide eyed in startled fear, which quickly faded when you realized it was him. An odd feeling for Aemond, as it was usually the other way round when people realized it was him. “Don’t scare me like that!”
“What are you doing out here?” He repeated, still hissing, but more from the whispering now. “What are you doing outside the castle, alone, at night, without an escort?!” His blood boiled with each new remark to his list. Aemond thought his wife clever for a time, but he would have to rethink that in this lunacy.
You glared at him. “I do not need an escort.” You insisted. “And what are you doing out here? Last you told me; you would be with Ser Cristion for the night.”
The apple of his throat bobbed, but Aemond refused to admit he gulped at the accusations of his wife. True, they were both at fault here. Sneaking out unbeknownst to their people and partner. The only difference was that Aemond’s transgression did not come with the inherited danger a young lady, alone, in the middle of the night had. Your life was not your own now, and Aemond was angry that you were being so careless with it.
“That is immaterial. You do need an escort. What if I had been a stranger in the dark?”
“I can handle myself, Aemond.” You continued to insist. Why did the Gods have to give him such an infuriating woman as a wife? “I’m not the soft petal that other women in the palace are. I’m a Targaryen.”
True, you were not as soft as the other ladies. Rhaenyra may bare bastards left & right, and Daemon may be an opportunistic lech, but they had done right by their daughter. Teaching you to not only be an adequate lady of court, but also a skilled rider, both of dragon & horse, and how to defend yourself. Targaryens were never short of enemies. It was best to be prepared. But their Targaryen jewel had not been trained in the same way Aemond had. More how to hold a knife and properly thrust when the moment came, but not actually overcome a group of attackers if swarmed.
“Targaryen’s bleed just as much as anyone, ābrazȳrys.” Aemond told her. Stepping close. You predictably take a step back away from his ire. “We are not immortal like our beasts. What would you have done if I had been another man? Two men? Twenty?”
Your back eventually hit a walk. Locked on with Aemond’s eye as you felt a swell of fear in your belly at his words. “I…I would run away.”
Aemond cruelly laughed at your answer. “You would outrun twenty men? You’re fast, byka ābrazȳrys,” he remembers the races they had when they were children, before he sprouted to his current height, “but not fast enough to outrun twenty.” He then used that impressive height of his to quell around you. His arm coming up to place his hand against the wall. Blocking one exit. “What would you do if I had been a stranger in the dark?”
There was a tense moment between you. You felt trapped. You have to force your body to stay still and not tremble. “Stop it Aemond.” You hiss as you try to push him away. He’d made his point. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But you would never admit it.
“Who's Aemond?" Your eyes flickered up to him as Aemond’s voice sounded different. Void of the subtle hints of affection he had for you, and stone cold. A blade was suddenly out from by his pocket and by your throat. “I'm just a faceless, masked man in the dark.”
Your back went straight against the wall as you tried to create as much space as possible between you, Aemond, and the knife. “S-Stop it…”
“Make me.” Was his reply. “You’re a strong, capable Targareyn, aren’t you? Make me stop.”
You realize you can’t. You’re too afraid. This was indeed Aemond, your husband who loved you, but your mind kept thinking on what if this wasn’t Aemond. What if this had been a strange man in the dark? What is this wasn’t a test but truly real? An enemy of your mother? An enemy of Aemond? Or just a man like so many in the city who pulled women into dark alleys and forced them to their needs? What if this had been real?
Aemond saw the fear welling up inside you as tears came to your eyes in panic. He put the knife away and leaned in to give you a kiss. His build softening around you as the point had been made and the ‘game’ was over. You cling to Aemond in relief. Like a life raft out to sea. Overcome with emotions you kiss your husband desperately in a manner unbecoming of commoners in an alley, much less royalty.
Aemond kissed you back with equal fervor. Never missing an opportunity to kiss you. Relief also washed over him as well, thinking on the what-ifs if he had not run into you and another man did. What could have happened to you. The prince growled possessively at the thought and ran his hands over your body to claim it from these imaginary brigands. You moaned against his lips. Breasts heaving as you pant against him while his knee slid up between your legs as he bucked against you. “Let us go home issa jorrāelagon.”
You nodded fervently. You just wanted to go home now. Be with your husband. Be in the palace walls. Be safe.
The prince released you and the two of you walked back through the cobblestone streets for the tunnels. “Why are you out here anyway, issa jorrāelagon?” He realized you had never answered him.
“Father told me once of a spot past the Iron Gate that, if you look out at it at sunrise, you can see Valyria.” Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye. What a ridiculous story. Valryia was leagues away. He’d barely come close to it on Vhagar; though in truth he would never fly near the place after what happened to Princess Aerea. “I know it’s silly, but I wanted to see it.”
“Why now?” He asked. You had lived in King’s Landing on & off for most of your life. Had you wish to see ‘The Valyrian Sun’ (yes, he knew what she was talking about) you could have done so at any time before. Why now, alone, when such danger was about for them?
“In times of trouble, I look to the Old Gods more, like your mother looks to the Seven.” Daemon’s influence, no doubt. Or perhaps it was just her own. Aemond parroted the phrases and did the prayers when asked by his mother, but he would not truly say he was bound to one set or the other. “I thought it might bring me some clarity on things. Some answers.”
“Answers on what?” You don’t answer, which made Aemond suspicious, but he doesn’t pry further. “Why didn’t you just ask me to come with you?”
“I thought you wouldn’t go if I told you it was something my father taught me.”
He frowned. Did you really think him that petty of the man that he wouldn’t go just because Daemon Targaryen taught of it first. “Come. This way.”
You do not have time to react as Aemond took your hand and pulled you down a different alley. “Where are we going?”
“The proper way.” He told you. “You were headed for the Dragon’s Gate. Yet another reason why you need an escort.” You frown at Aemond’s slight but follow after him.
The two of you meet the ‘Valyrian Sun’ together. There is no cast of Old Valyrian in the sun beams, nor any of the answers you seek. But when you turn to look at Aemond amongst the sunrise, you feel some kind of peace. Some kind of answers. “Let’s go home.”
“I do not know your grace,” Larys replied. Remaining calm in the Queens frustration. She had been hunting for her middle son for hours, and he was no where to be found. “I have checked with the guards and sentries, and no one has seen him leave by Vahgar or horse.”
“So, he must still be in the city.” Alicent deduced. Hoping he was still in the castle as well. “The conclave starts soon, and we need…a united front for the court.” The plan to weave her family’s place to the crown was to start today. First, but claiming Driftmark back from Rhaenyra's brood. Then, with them illegitimized, start making the case that Aegon should be king. “He knows how important today is. How could he do this to me?!”
“The prince is nothing but a servant to duty.” Larys assured her. He may not see eye-to-eye with the prince, at least with the one he had left, but the Lord did respect that he seemed committed to his family and their goal. “I’m sure he will come out of hiding eventually.”
In a further, deeper part of the castle, indeed hidden away from all those who had not truly explored it, Aemond laid sequestered with his maiden. Marveling at her beauty in the low light between kisses. Beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck from the warmth of the candles in the small space and their hot, panting breath. Bucking against each other with soft gasps & grunts in the nest he had built for them
“We have to go.” His lady insisted. For the umpteenth time, yet neither one of them had made a legitimate effort to move.
“No, no. Not yet.”
Aemond didn’t want to go back to the ‘real world’. A world where his family and hers were fighting. Where the rift between them seemed to grow every day. Separating them. Lines in the sand now a chasm that seemed impossible to overcome.
He also knew what was to happen today to Rhaenyra's bastards, and that she might not forgive him for his part in the plot of disinheriting her brothers. Aemond wanted to stay here a little longer, where she wouldn’t be mad at him.
“People will be looking for us.” She told him as he moved to her neck, which was freely given.
“They’ll never find us.” It had taken him years to find this place and even then it had been difficult to remember where the opening was until he had committed it to memory.
“Oh yes. Because you’re so clever. Ow!” His lady yipped but then moaned when he bit at her neck. A true Targaryen. Wanting a little pain with her pleasure.
“We should just leave and never come back.”
He’d made the offer before. To take their dragons and ride until they reach new land. Conquer it like their ancestors. Build a new kingdom, instead of being stuck in this conflicting one.
Yet, every time, she just laughed it off as a joke like she did now. Not realizing the seriousness of how much he wanted to leave, and never come back, and just be the two of them in the world. “You would miss the tarts too much if we left. Come on. Let’s get going.”
Aemond finally let her go, though disappointed about it, and let her right herself.
In the right light, her mused hair and clothes looked like she had been riding. No one would think where Rhaenyra's Targaryen jewel had truly been. In the arms of her scorned, much less beloved uncle. His cock throbbed in his breeches. Desperate to make her truly his, but he would not take such liberties. Aemond would not tarnish their jewel nor besmirch her honor. He loved her too much for that. That’s why he wanted her to run away with him, so they could be together. Growing up in a world beloved & adored, she does not see that her parents will never allow them to marry. Never allow them to be happy. Their jewel will be given to someone politically inclined to help secure her mother’s place on the throne, and Aemond would be unhappy & unfulfilled.
He would join the Watch before he call anyone but her wife.
Righted and upright, Aemond tucked a lock of silver behind her ear. Marveling at the affection reflected in her eyes. “Will you see me later? After the conclave?”
“Of course.” She told him. Her earnest something he wanted to hold on to. “Here, or somewhere else before dinner?”
“Here.” Where he could pretend. And if he spoke his words sweet enough maybe she would take him up on his offer to finally run away.
They exit their nook and depart. Her back to her family and Aemond to his. His mother found him readily enough, given how frantically at this point she had been looking for him, and asked where he had been.
“Day dreaming.” Was all he told her. It was a peculiarly enough answer that it halted all further questions from his mother and left him to get ready for the meeting.
After today, his daydreams where all he might have left. Let him keep them for a little while longer at least.
