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dark sonnet. (part two) | aemond targaryen

part 1

Abstract: During his studies, Aemond had come across countless stories of love and passion, both salvation and ruin of men and women and empires as well. He’d never paid it too much mind, never really cared because he’d never known what it meant. And then he’d realised - it meant don’t leave me alone.

Words: 9.5K

Content: f!reader (can be read as oc, no use of y/n / her hair is dyed red, no mentions of natural hair colour); canon typical everything - allusions to rape and an abusive family, hands, a lot of imagery and flowery language, scars, characters are aged up, smut, canon? we don’t know her, blood ritual, some odd family dynamics but it’s hotd so what can you do

A/N: i will admit i feel like there’s a lot more i could write about these two, some situations left unanswered and incomplete that just won’t fit in the narrative - i doubt i’ll turn this into a series (life is a bitch and i have so little time) but i am always willing to talk about my darlings. loosely based on neil gaiman’s poem dark sonnet. translation for high valyrian will be at the end

also on AO3 - masterlist

feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too

He began dreaming of roses.

When she was in his bed - trapped by his arms, no matter her weak protests and reprimands - he buried his nose in her hair, or the crook of her neck; when she managed to escape him, or convinced him Helaena would call - she always did, he wasn’t sure how she knew with absolute certainty - her scent lingered on his covers. His beautiful rose, he said - ñuha gevie rēko, whispered on her skin, murmured between her thighs.

So he began dreaming of roses, and seek her out in his sleep, too, because in those moments she was his and his only, and she wouldn’t worry as much if it was just the two of them in his room. Outside those walls, she was Helaena’s - outside, they lived of stolen moments, nights tucked away.

“Do you believe Helaena would not understand?” the Weirwood tree was their only shelter when the sun was still out, sitting side by side with the Gods watching their backs. She was always more guarded than him, more careful and aware of their surroundings, and though their hands would touch at times - a brush, a stroke, locking fingers before parting again - she mostly kept hers into her lap. He watched her pick at her fingers nervously whenever someone walked by, even though they were hidden enough, and he was never able to stop himself from reaching over, taking her hand in his. “That she would not like this?”

“This?” she smiled almost slyly, though her eyes darted past his shoulder, past her shoulder. “Do not tease,” he warned quietly, bringing her hand up to his mouth - that was when her gaze lingered, enraptured by the movement, the softness of it.

“I was led to believe you liked when I teased, my prince,” always my prince when out of the shelter of his room - never his name. He longed to hear it all day long, waited for the safety of the night to draw it out of her, over and over and over.

“Not when I cannot have you, no,” he hummed, turning her arm to kiss her wrist, right underneath where her sleeve ended. She sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the warmth of his lips. “Do you truly wish to hear me say it?” he shifted closer, trailing kisses up her arm from above her dress. He did not wait for an answer, reaching up her shoulder to whisper close to her ear, “Would my sister not like knowing I desire no other person but you?”

“My prince,” she warned, her voice a little breathy, struggling to open her eyes again. “We’re outside - anyone could walk by.” “Let them,” he shrugged, and before she could protest again he’d kissed her.

Her body betrayed her, softening beneath his touch, mellowing at his kiss - she sighed against his lips, the hand she’d been keeping in her lap moving up towards his face. She cupped his cheek, a gentle caress across his jaw as he pushed himself closer, so close their thighs were pressed together, his torso twisted to an almost uncomfortable degree.

Uncaring, he prodded her mouth with the tip of his tongue, tasting sugar on her lips - from the cakes Helaena had shared with her, he knew - before she parted them, relenting. As he deepened the kiss, he let his hand fall to her leg, kneading the flesh of her thigh when she locked her knees together.

“Don’t,” she murmured against his mouth, hand on his shoulder as if to push him back but not quite. With a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, he slid his fingers between her legs, the skirt of her dress wrinkling under his touch. “Not here.”

“Why not?” he pulled away from the kiss fully, glanced down at her reddened lips. He remained close enough the tip of her nose brushed his, still letting his hand travel up to her core, even through her layers of clothing. “I could take you in front of the entire court,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Claim you as my own - let every person know who you belong to.”

“Claim me?” she scoffed, though it came out a little breathless, shifting beneath his touch as her cheeks grew bright with colour. “Have you mistaken me for one of your dragons, my prince?” she sighed when he curled his fingers into the folds of her skirt, applying pressure to her centre, tipping her head back as her eyes fluttered shut.

“My jorrāeliarza,” he uttered the words, lips finding home on her neck, over the sweet spot that made her heart race.”My beloved, for all to witness, to know.”

She guarded his name like a secret, had never dared saying it out loud around others ever since their first night together - it carried too much, tasted too sweet on the tip of her tongue. So she kept it tucked away, a pocket of her heart only he could reach for, every night, drawing it out of her like a God with his prayers.

“Aemond,” no one had ever said his name so softly, never had it carried such tenderness.

It was not his voice that responded, calling out for her from the other side of the tree, but Helaena’s. She gasped, the spell broken, eyes widening as the prince reluctantly pulled back, quick to get on his feet and put some distance between the two of them - if he remained too close, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to not reach for her again. Just as she smoothed her skirt down, the princess came up from behind the tree, and took in her brother with a surprised look in her eyes.

“There you are, sister,” he forced himself to not look down towards her, focusing only on Helaena. “I was wondering where you’d gone, leaving your companion behind on such a lovely day.”

“I was with mother,” he knew, had watched her walk into the queen’s room and reached the gardens immediately, knowing he’d find the other woman there. “And she is not a pet, I am not leaving her,” those were the few times the princess would get defensive - he had seen her silence lords, ladies, Aegon himself, just for an unfavourable word said against her friend.

“Princess, it’s all right,” she said, her voice still a little breathy. Helaena turned her gaze to her and frowned slightly, getting closer and crouching down.

“Your face is burning,” she commented quietly, reaching for her cheek with the back of her hand. “Have you stayed in the sun for too long?” Aemond was quick to mask his snort with a cough, clearing his throat right after. “I must have, surely,” she shook her head lightly, then smiled up at her. “I’m fine, Helaena, just a little flushed.”

“Hm,” she said, a proper imitation of her brother - her brother, still standing a few steps behind. He understood why she was so worried of Helaena finding them out - why she would sacrifice them if it meant not losing the princess, and he couldn’t fault her for it. “Let’s get you inside then, it is too warm for me in any case.”

He watched her get up, brushing her skirt with one hand while with the other she helped Helaena - never touching her first, always waiting for the princess to do it on her own accord, to initiate it. She was so preoccupied with her, she did not even notice the spider crawling up her side, onto her hand and arm.

“You have a -” he took a step in her direction, then thought better of it, and when she turned her head to look at him, a perplexed look in her eyes, he gestured to her arm, the animal still making its way across her dress.

“Oh,” she disentangled herself from Helaena, moving her hand in front of the creature - it crawled on her hand, back to palm and back again, past her fingertips and down again before she moved it in the princess’ direction, unfazed as it crawled onto the other’s awaiting palm. “Shall we?” enthralled by the spider, Helaena only nodded, turning in Aemond’s direction.

“Mind the fall with her,” she said, to no one in particular, and then began walking in the direction she’d come from, back towards the entrance. Aemond’s mouth parted to say goodbye, but cut himself off when she met his gaze one last time, already walking away as well.

A look - it was all they needed, all they’d learned to need. A glance, eyes meeting across a room for the briefest of moments to convey a message of a thousand words. The hint of a smile, perhaps, never too much, never too obvious, always easy to mask. One look to say it all, one look to say things they would never be able to express out loud. They didn’t need to.

During his studies, Aemond had come across countless stories of love and passion, both salvation and ruin of men and women and empires as well. He’d never paid it too much mind, never really cared because he’d never known what it meant. And then he’d realised - it meant don’t leave me alone.

Worse than the nights he had to spend alone were the days with her just out of reach - always there, always so close but never enough. He would try to make the most of the nights they did spend together, holding her always a little tighter, but it never felt enough. Not when she bowed her head each time he walked by and everybody else was around. Not when he noticed Aegon’s gaze wandering - a remark when it was just the four of them, rage flickering in her eyes even though she did not reply. He wished to be the one comforting her, not see Helaena be the one.

At night he would try to soothe the anger still coursing through her veins - she always kissed him back with a little more intensity on those nights, tried to burn the feeling away, tried to lose herself in him instead. He could only love her a little harder then, hold her a little tighter. She would not let him pity her, had made that abundantly clear. She would not let his brother come between them, nor ruin the perfect moments they cut out for themselves.

Aemond couldn’t bear it - that feeling of helplessness whenever her jaw locked, her gaze lowered. He wanted to walk around court and see her keep her head up, that defiant look in her eyes he’d been met with over and over, the same look he’d fallen for.

Fallen for her, his fearless goddess with flaming hair.

“Marry me,” he whispered into the crook of her neck as he held her close, arms caging her frame on top of him. She stilled with a gasp, fingers digging a little harder in his shoulders as she steadied herself after stopping the rocking of her hips.

“What?” she was panting a little, pulling her head back to look down at him. Her walls fluttered around his length when he shifted a little, a throaty sound stuck in her chest.

“Marry me,” he repeated, bringing one hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear - a gentle touch only she had known. A touch he wished for no one else to know. “Be my lady wife - aren’t you tired of sneaking around?”

“I am,” she seemed surprised by her own answer, and her gaze flickered away from him. Any other time it would’ve felt ironic - him, buried deep inside her and her not being able to hold his gaze. This time, however, Aemond’s heart stuttered. “But I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“Why not?” can’t he thought, not don’t want to - could he cling to hope, he wondered? Could he be a fool for a while longer?

“I have no name, Aemond,” she said his name with tenderness, one hand moving to the back of his head, a soothing, gentle touch. “It is one thing for me to be Helaena’s companion, another to spend the nights with you - she chose me, and -”

She was cut off by his arms locking around her again, flipping them over - the motion made her eyes flutter shut as a heavy sigh fell from her lips. He pushed her with her back fully against the bed, canting his hips into hers.

“I choose you,” he retorted, one arm at the side of her head to hold himself slightly lifted. “I don’t want just nights with you - and I don’t care about your name, or titles, ot whatever the fuck people might think or say.” “I know you don’t,” she brushed her hand through his unbound hair, slow and gentle and still soothing. “But you’re still a prince - you can’t marry someone like me.”

“You’re right, I am a prince,” he bowed his head to kiss her jaw, shifting his hips again flush against hers - she held back a cry, head tipped back. “Which means I can do what I want,” another thrust, another kiss to her throat. “Marry whomever I wish to marry.”

“Aemond,” she heaved, nails scratching his scalp, lingering on the strap of his eyepatch. They’d fallen into each other so quickly that night he hadn’t even stopped to take it off as he’d grown used to when in her presence.

“Say you don’t want to marry me, and I’ll understand,” he let his hand move down her side, a butterfly touch that almost tickled her, down to her thigh, hitching her leg against his side. With the motion, he pushed himself deeper, and she stuttered a moan - the beginning of his name as he rocked into her, slow and deep. “I’ll keep you like this, or let you go completely, whatever it is you desire,” she arched up to meet him. “Just say the word.”

“I can’t,” her breath caught as he snapped his hips back into hers. “I can’t say that. I can’t say I don’t want to,” it felt easier to admit her desires with her eyes closed, arm locking behind his shoulders as his head fell back to the crook of her neck, lips brushing her pulse. “But it’s a fantasy, my love.”

Had she ever said it before? My love. Had she ever said it out loud? Love - what an odd concept for the reality they lived in. And yet, how else to describe the aching in his ribs when he could not touch her, hold her, kiss her as the sun kissed her, too? How else to justify the strength it took her to keep her eyes down, keep herself quiet, never reach for him when she needed him the most?

“’Tis not,” he argued, fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh - there’d be marks later, there always were, carefully hidden in places where his sister or mother would not see, and it would drive him insane, not being able to show it off. He looked up to her, her eyes still closed, and shifting most of his weight on his elbow he brushed the side of her jaw. “Not if you tell me you want it, too. Because I do - so desperately.”

“Aemond,” her whisper turned into a cry, head tilting to lean into his touch.

“I want you to be my wife,” he went on, each sentence a roll of his hips against hers, a pressure so blissful it made her legs lock at his sides. “I want everyone to know whom I belong to. To have you by my side, always, and be able to touch you whenever I wish to,” she shuddered underneath him, biting her lip to keep the noises at bay. “If you want to, say it. Just say it. Please.”

“I do,” she opened her eyes, rapidly blinking as she slipped one finger underneath the strap of his eyepatch. “Seven Hells - you won’t even let me catch my breath?” the prince grinned, shaking his head a little, kissing her with the smile still on his lips - sloppy, all teeth and tongue as he thrust into her again, a little stronger than before.

She moaned into his mouth, arching up to meet him as she slipped the eyepatch from his head, letting it fall at their side before burying her hand back into his hair, pulling on his roots as he rocked into her again, and again, and again. She gasped when he pulled away from her lips, latching onto her neck right away, lips pressed to her pulse. Always so careful to hide his signs on her body, her words pushed him over the line he had not crossed yet, sucking onto the soft skin - harsh, until he knew a purple mark would stick, where it could not be hidden.

“Ñuhon,” whispered, over and over again through quick pecks down her throat, her chest as she cried out again, gripping him tightly and holding him close, riding her high with trembling thighs until she went limp beneath him, still panting. Mine, mine, mine as he came after her with a groan of his own.

“How am I supposed to explain this to your mother?” there was a hazy look in her eyes when she tilted her head to expose her neck, the skin raw and red, bruise already blossoming beneath. Aemond chuckled, the vibration travelling down her body where they were still locked together, making her hiss softly.

Holding himself over her with one arm, purposefully canting his hips into her, still sensitive, she clenched around him, and he took hold of her chin, turning her head until she was looking up at him again with her eyes wide open, that wild look in her eye that always got him reeling. He brought his thumb to her bottom lip, dragging it down a little.

“I will speak to her first thing in the morning,” her breath fanned hot across the pad of his finger, a quiet exhale at his words. “Tell her you will be my wife,” he brushed his thumb from one corner of her mouth to the other as he slipped out of her. Her lips parted furthermore at the movement, the friction making her groan softly. “Ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

“Aemond, you’re -” “Yours,” he moved his hand from her face, down her neck, chest, between the valley of her breasts, touches that made goosebumps raise across her skin, her legs falling at each of her sides. “You worry too much, jorrāeliarza,” he said then, shifting to her side.

She followed him, turning to face him, one hand falling to his chest and curling above his heart while the other reached up to his face, her ring finger brushing the edge of his scar lightly as he rubbed her side, the sore spots on her hips.

“And you, not enough,” she retorted, her voice soft. “It is all nice in theory, but your mother might not like the idea - it is very likely she will not,” he turned his head, kissing her wrist. “And what about Helaena? What if she -” her words were muffled by his mouth pressing on hers again. “No, do not try to fuck me out of thinking -” he kissed her again, a little chuckle against her lips before pulling back, grinning at her glare.

“Do you wish to marry me?” she went to reply right away, and he was quick to put his hand over her mouth, gaining another annoyed look. “Yes or no, I won’t hear anything else,” he warned, slowly moving his fingers from her lips.

“Yes,” she said quietly, and he smiled, bowing his head towards hers. “But -” “Enough fussing, litse mēre,” he kissed her shoulder, quickly glancing at the mark getting darker on her neck with a self-satisfied grin. “I have something for you.”

“What?” she frowned, watching him get up from her side. She reached for the covers, pulling them up to her chest as she sat on the edge of the bed with a little groan, the soreness spreading to her limbs. She rolled her shoulders, her neck, still keeping an eye on him.

Aemond had reached the table by the fireplace, usually occupied with books, and was already making his way back with his hands behind his back - she tilted her head, curiosity shimmering in her eyes. He kept his gaze on her as he moved back in front of her, then knelt by the bed, movements graceful before placing himself between her knees covered by the sheets. Her eyes danced from his shoulder - still attempting to get a peek - to his face, expectantly.

“Give me your hand,” he said softly, moving just one hand from behind his back, palm facing up towards the ceiling. She frowned at him again, and his smile only widened, amused. “You trusted me with Vhagar, have a little faith now, will you?”

“A dragon is less unpredictable than you are,” she scoffed, but rested her hand on his, palm against palm, her skin already colder than his. He snorted, bowing his head to kiss her ring finger before producing, from behind his back, a circlet.

He felt her hold her breath as he slowly put it on her, the thin band fitting smoothly past her knuckles, shining brightly against her skin. Her eyes were fixed on it, fingers flexing lightly over his palm and making the light hit the small violet and blue stones with each movement.

“It’s Valyrian steel,” he spoke in a low voice, thumb brushing her fingertips as silence enveloped them. She hadn’t as much as breathed again, gaze unwavering on their joined hands. “You know I am partial to sapphires, but you mentioned amethysts that first night, and I thought -” he shrugged lightly, running his thumb quickly over the ring, making it twist a little around her finger. Still, she remained silent, and the prince sighed. “Do not leave me in agony - say something.”

“You have actually thought about this,” her voice was unbelievably small, and she let her gaze flicker up, then back down to her hand. “You - have you truly been thinking about marriage?” she sounded baffled, and Aemond arched his eyebrows a little.

“Of course,” he reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear, head tilting slightly to the side. “Haven’t you?” she leaned into his touch, a motion so familiar to him.

“I never dared,” her confession held a note of sadness that he wished to wipe away desperately, his hand cradling her cheek as she kept her gaze low. “Had I allowed myself to entertain the thought, it would’ve destroyed me, and I couldn’t -” she shook her head, bringing the un-ringed hand over his on her face. “You think me unafraid for facing a dragon, for looking at you when no one else would - but this terrifies me. Desiring you was bold enough, but to be your wife?” she lingered on the word, eyes widening as it turned in her mouth, unfamiliar yet warm. “The mere thought makes me ache.”

“You told me there’s more to me - to us - than blood and bone. More than mere physical needs, and I -” his pinky brushed the side of her neck, tracing the edge of the bruise in the shape of his lips, words sitting on the tip of his tongue. “You were meant for more than the shadows, and I want to give you that. Not as my paramour, but as my bride,” he brought her hand up to his mouth, kissing where the ring sat with a whisper. “Ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

“You want an awful lot, my prince,” a timid smile made its way across her lips, and he did not even try to hold back his. He let go of his hand to wrap his arm around her, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed - she let both her arms fall to his shoulders, head slightly bowed to look at him. “My love,” whispered, as her fingers ran through the tips of his hair.

“Say you do,” a kiss to her chest, covers falling from her body. “Say you will,” a kiss to her shoulder, head tilting back to meet her eyes. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I do,” she didn’t hesitate again, though her heart stuttered with fear and excitement alike. “I will marry you.”

Alicent knew her son - for years, the closest relationship she’d had was with Aemond.

He was far from being an open book to her, she could rarely tell what he thought or felt. But she knew when he was mulling over something, could see it on his face, playing out as silence enveloped them - it wasn’t bothersome, wasn’t resentful, but it carried a weight that could linger only so much before starting to feel too much.

“Alright,” she sighed, leaning towards him, breaking the quiet. “Out with it, what is it?” he looked at her, and for the first time he seemed worried - immediately, it started gnawing at Alicent’s insides, the absence of reply from her son only worsening the feeling. “Aemond?”

“It’s about Helaena’s companion,” he kept his voice low and even, hand wrapping around the armrest of the chair once, twice, a drumming as he said her name, voice so soft Alicent had to sit back with a frown across her brow.

“Alright,” she repeated, tone measured. “What happened?” “Well, we - I -” he exhaled, turning his head a little and drumming his fingers again. She watched him carefully - Aemond had never stuttered, never hesitated with his speech, Gods knew his bluntness had caused enough problems.

“Is she alright?” Alicent asked, the nail of her middle finger digging into the pad of her thumb before she got up. “I won’t send her away, Aemond. She’s been too precious for us, for Helaena, I cannot -” she moved towards the door, back towards him, to the door again. “If anything happened, just -”

“No, mother, it’s not like that,” he said suddenly, urgently, and a flicker of panic crossed his face as he stood as well. Alicent brought one hand to her chest, relieved and regretful equally - because she’d grown too used to think the worst of every situation, yet whatever it was still weighed on Aemond, so much so he could not look at her. “I -” he stood in front of her, his head slightly lowered as he hesitated again. “I love her.”

The words were odd and heavy in his mouth, as realisation that that was the first time he said it out loud settled on him, and the truth of it made his shoulders sag, even as his mother stared up at him, wide eyes unblinking with stupor.

“I have no intention of making her a side figure in my life,” he went on. “Nor to hide her.”

“What are you saying?” she shook herself a little, though the sentence alone was enough to ricochet through her bones for days to come. Such sincerity, such feeling she’d never heard him - or anyone else, for the matter - express.

“I intend to marry her - with or without your blessing,” he said, more like the usual Aemond, chin raised and back straight, as if taking pride in his statement - all the while, his gaze softened. “Though I would very much prefer it if you did approve.”

“You -” Alicent arched her eyebrows, stepping back towards her chair with hesitant steps. “Oh, dear,” she sat down, leaning back and lifting her hand to her head, as if to hold it up.

“We have been otherwise intertwined for the past few months,” his mother scrunched up her nose at his words, pressing her middle finger between her eyebrows with a sigh.

“I know, you needn’t say more about that,” she waved her hand as if dismissively, and it was the prince’s turn to frown. “You know?”

“I am not blind, Aemond. And I’m your mother,” she dropped both hands in her lap, tilting her head to look up at him. “I knew there was something between the two of you already. I just did not expect it’d come to marriage,” she almost muttered the last phrase, turning her head a little before her face lit up again with worry. “Does she know you’re asking this?”

“She does,” that seemed to relieve the queen a little, shoulders sagging with her exhale. “But you knew? And you said nothing?”

“She came to me once - very early on her days here, terrified, because -” Aemond sat down slowly, and she followed the movement of his hands wrapping around the armrests, knuckles turning white. “Aegon had ripped part of her dress trying to grab her, and she’d hit him back,” surprisingly, a little smile caught on his mother’s lips, though she was quick to mask it. “She wanted to apologise for doing so, said she’d understand if we’d send her away, or anything else that might come her way.”

“I don’t understand where -” she lifted her hand to quieten him, Aemond sealing his lips shut.

“She was not afraid of Aegon’s reaction, nor mine - she did not want to leave Helaena alone,” at that, Alicent lowered her gaze, twisting her hands a little. “At first I let her stay because Helaena adored her. And then because it was nice having someone to talk to, and I like her. And I know Aegon hasn’t let go of it.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you knew, mother,” he pointed out, carefully, keeping his anger in check. Alicent’s eyes were on his hands, still tightly holding the armrests.

“I know because I know you,” she said softly, giving him a tentative smile. “You haven’t been subtle, Aemond, not with the way you look at her,” his lips parted, as if to argue, but when he met his mother’s gaze he bit his tongue. “She hasn’t said a single ill word about you - she’s kept you like a secret, just as you have tried. But marriage? How did it get to this?”

Suddenly, Aemond was a child again, unsure of what was the right thing to say - he shrugged lightly, tapping his fingers. He wasn’t sure he could explain it, that that was the only thing that had made sense in a few months; that had she refused him he would’ve understood, but wouldn’t have known how to move on; that he wanted it so much it was burning him from inside out.

“I feel about her the same way I felt after claiming Vhagar,” he said carefully, and the smile on Alicent’s lips widened a bit. “This constant euphoria that makes my heart race. But at the same time,” he tilted his head a little, fingers curling, “as if I can just be.”

His mother did not reply - she leaned over the armrest of her chair, reaching for him with her eyes shimmering slightly. It was a look he thought he’d never seen on her face, and it puzzled him as she took his hand and squeezed, hard, her ring pushing into his knuckles.

“I’m happy for you, my darling,” her voice was gentle, head slightly tilted. Aemond did not remember the last time his mother had looked serene, if ever. He watched her prepare to speak again, only to be interrupted by a knocking on the door - she frowned, ever so lightly, and pulled her hand back from him. He knew she’d done it for his sake, wished she hadn’t as she called, “Come on in.”

She stepped inside, hair unbound except for two small braids connected at the back of her head, the neckline of her dress high - to which Aemond grinned, thinking about her fussing over the mark on her neck in the morning in front of his mirror, sending him a glare when he’d said how much it suited her. Her gaze was lowered to a bundle of letters in her hands.

“My queen, I was -” she looked up, temporarily triumphant with the paper she intended to find in her hand, only for her gaze to settle on Aemond - a split second, nothing longer, then back to the queen, then down again. “Apologies, your highness, I shall come back later.”

“Jorrāeliarza,” Aemond called, unable to keep the amusement in his voice. There was a softness to the word which told Alicent more than what knowing the meaning of it would’ve - he watched them look at each other a moment too long, Aemond with glee, the woman with a hint of worry. “I told her.”

“You -” she stammered, eyes widening a little. He watched her pick at her fingers, just as Alicent watched the new ring on her, eyebrows arching a little. She rocked a little side to side, flinching when she pulled too hard on the skin and drew blood around her fingernail, just as she met the queen’s gaze. “Oh.”

“Come sit,” Alicent told her softly, and before she could gesture to the empty chair, Aemond had gotten up, leaving the spot for her. She hesitated for a moment, then reached the chair with a single glance in the prince’s direction - his expression had softened as he followed her with his gaze, standing by the chair. “You have nothing to worry about, darling girl. I don’t think I could oppose your union even if I wanted to,” she smiled as she said it.

“Then there is something I must tell you, my queen,” she said slowly, her hands clasped on her lap, thumb pushing and turning the ring on her finger. “Though I do hope my past insincerity won’t change your judgement as it is now.”

Alicent’s eyes flickered to Aemond - but he was only looking at her, eye locked on the side of her face. He kept one arm behind his back, while slowly, ever so carefully, reaching for her shoulder with his other one. She leaned towards his touch, so rapidly and on instinct the queen believed she did not even realise, though some tension seemed to leave her posture.

“Alright, then,” she nodded in encouragement, brow pinched.

And she told her everything - her family, her betrothal, her almost wedding, the man’s illness, the beatings, the abuse, the scars, all the reasons why she’d reacted the way she had at Aegon’s touch, at his insistence. As she spoke, Aemond’s hand travelled upwards, caressing the back of her neck, brushing her hair gently, soothingly. He’d heard it all before, scattered through sleepless nights and stolen moments of the days, had wished to hunt down all the people that had touched her, hurt her, wronged her. Alicent saw it all on his face, a lingering rage brought forth by nothing but the affections he had for the girl.

By the time she was done, she’d leaned almost fully into Aemond’s support, his body standing straight at the side of the chair, his hand now resting on her opposite shoulder, holding her to him in a half hug. As Alicent got up, she wondered if they even realised they’d been seeking each other out for consolation. The queen crouched in front of her, watched her eyes widen slightly as she took her hands gently.

“I have always thought you were an extraordinary woman,” she told her, thumbs tracing her maimed fingertips. “I’m glad my Aemond has found you - but this won’t be easy.”

“I didn’t expect it to be,” she replied right away, Aemond’s grip tightening for a moment. “Good,” she nodded, just once, squeezing her hands before standing. “You’ve been at court long enough to know you’ll be watched, and studied - don’t let them win.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, a little tearful, the queen’s touch lingering on her skin. “I have just one request,” she said after a moment, looking first at her, then turning to Aemond - a request for them both. Frowning a little, he nodded, and watched as her hand rose to his, gently brushing the tip of her fingers to his knuckles. “Could I be the one to tell Helaena? Alone? I believe she’s expecting me.”

“Are you -” Alicent began to ask, but noticed the determination in her eyes right away - so similar to Aemond’s, two flames from the same fire, burning brighter together. She sighed, nodded again. “Of course.”

She stood at last, gratefulness in her eyes as she held the queen’s hands again - just a moment, a silent thank you that words could not express. Aemond’s touch lingered on her, an odd sense of peace settling in his bones. Even as he watched her turn her head towards him, say nothing else, escape his touch; even as he watched the door close behind her; even as he wished he’d held her a while longer. She was no longer his secret, he was no longer hers.

“She has quick steps,” Alicent said, bringing his attention to her. “What?” he frowned, unsure he’d heard her correctly.

“She walks fast - she’ll be to Helaena’s room quickly, and who knows when they’ll come out,” the queen shrugged, her son still looking at her perplexed - she sighed, shaking her head a little. Young love, she thought, how she wished she’d known it properly. “Go on then, go after her,” she waved her hand with a scoff.

Aemond grinned, wide and unabashed, unrestrained joy that shimmered in his eye and made Alicent’s heart swell. How could he ever think he’d deny him this? He moved towards the door, long and quick steps to reach it hurriedly, but stopped midway - turned, moved back to his mother with the same haste. He kissed her cheek, hands on her elbows, so abruptly she yelped in surprise - before she could say more he was outside, the silent thanking like a mark on the woman’s face.

Uncaring of questions or raised brows, he ran after her, cutting a corridor or two to get to Helaena’s rooms faster - he expected to catch her on the last step, have to argue with her about getting just one kiss in broad daylight now that his mother knew. Instead, she stood perfectly still in front of the door, and the tension in her shoulders told him of her hesitancy.

“I do hope you’re not having second thoughts now,” he called, softly enough she did not startle, reaching her side. His hand found the small of her back, head tilting to look at her expression - while she twisted her hands again, her brow was pinched, cheeks hollowed. “I believe my mother is already planning the event. I would tell her to keep it small, but I doubt that’d be of any use,” he smiled, hand travelling up to in between her shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on her tense muscles. When she didn’t reply, he stepped a little closer, pressing against her side. “What is it, litse mēre?”

“What if Helaena isn’t happy?” she blurted out, fingers flexing in front of her, taking half a step back and bumping into him, then immediately forward, face falling in defeat. “What if she doesn’t like the idea of us being together? Of us being married? What if -” she groaned a little, frustrated, lowering her gaze to her hands.

With his free hand, Aemond hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her head back enough that she was looking up at him, her nostrils flaring, eyelids trembling. He leaned in a little, waited for her to pull back - when she did not move, the prince kissed her softly, just once, then rested his forehead against hers.

“She’ll understand,” he reassured in a whisper, and the woman sighed, eyes screwed shut. “I just don’t want her to be unhappy,” she admitted, hand finding purchase on Aemond’s arm, tucking it against her chest. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

For a moment, Aemond found it almost funny that she feared the princess’ reaction more than she’d feared the queen’s judgement. He thought about what she’d told him - I have no title, all my possessions come from my work. From Helaena. - yet knew that was not the reason: she adored the princess deeply, and it was not gratitude that moved her and kept her at her side. It was love, profound and somewhat both different and the same to the one they shared in quiet.

“I keep thinking you’d give up life itself if it meant not having Helaena come in harm’s way,” he murmured, dropping a kiss to the bridge of her nose. She scoffed a little, shaking her head before he cupped her cheeks with both hands, gazes unfaltering. “She’ll understand,” he repeated, “she adores you - and if not for your sake, then definitely for mine,” he said with a grin, to which she responded with a pout. “Nothing has ever made me as happy as this.”

“This?” the teasing fell from her lips on instinct, making the prince chuckle. He kissed her again, a little rougher than the previous time, and her hand clasped tightly around his wrist - more and stop equal commands in her touch. When he pulled back, he saw her gaze flicker to the door and he laughed again.

“I’ll be waiting for you here,” she seemed about to argue, but stopped herself as her lips moved, biting down on her lip before nodding, squeezing his wrist just once before he let her go. She didn’t look back after knocking, Helaena’s voice beckoning her forward, but felt the back of her neck burn under the prince’s gaze.

“Helaena?” she called softly, the door closing behind her back. The princess sat with her embroidery on her lap, the beginning of a new spider on the piece of fabric - she smiled at her friend as she came in, scooting a little to the side as she always did. “May we speak for a moment?” there was no point stalling, no point hesitating.

“Of course,” she nodded, putting the embroidery aside and looking up at her as she approached. “Are you not hot in that dress? Is everything alright?”

She reached at the neckline of her neck, the small ruffles tickling underneath her jaw - in truth, it was a dress made for the snowy months, when the air was cold and cruel. It was also the only thing that could cover Aemond’s work on her neck for the time being. She then touched her cheeks with the back of her hand, still warm from the prince’s kiss and his words.

“Everything’s fine,” she said, shaking her head rapidly as she approached the couch, sitting by her. “Do you remember the ball thrown by the king a few months back? Lord Jason Lannister got too drunk, Ser Criston almost got punched when trying to escort him out,” Helaena’s smile flashed amused, nodding.

“I remember Aemond, too,” she replied, making the other woman inhale sharply - of course she’d remember. “He’d been looking at you the whole night - I believe he really did want to dance with you, not me.”

“I think so, too,” the prince had admitted it, one night in his rooms as she tried to get him to dance - she’d been the one leading that time, too, though he hadn’t minded, not if it meant getting more and more of her laughter. “That night, the prince and I talked - he brought me to the dragon pit, showed me Vhagar,” surprise registered on Helaena’s face, piecing together her friend’s words. “It - I don’t know how to describe it, nor how it made me feel, and he -” she closed her eyes, because it was always easier to voice her feelings when the world was dark, it kept the fears at bay. “He’s been so gentle with me, and lately - a few months, actually - when I wasn’t with you I ended up spending some time with him,” she dug her nails into the palm of her hands, fists held so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Some nights, too. Mostly nights, really.”

She cursed herself for babbling on, nerves on edge that made her forget the whole speech she had prepared in her head - she should’ve practised it, thought about it longer, made sure she began talking and not linger on sentences for too long, let the princess know how things were and apologise for not telling her. But truly, how to say it properly?

The prince has asked me to marry him, which sounds insane to me, too - what’s even more absurd is that I said yes, even though I’m terrified, even though anything could go wrong, even though I am scared you might despise the idea and not want to have anything to do with me anymore, and that would break my heart.

“Does he love you?” the question caught her so by surprise her eyes shot open as a little hiccup trapped in her throat. When she looked at the princess, Helaena wasn’t looking at her but at her hands, still fisted tightly, almost numb. Not her hands, she thought, the ring.

“I -” she frowned, almost tucking the ring away to not let her see but thinking better of it. “I think so? Hope so,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head.

Love was not a thing that Aemond said, yet she realised she’d never doubted the truth of his affections. He’d shown her, time and time again, holding her at night and searching for her during the day, with kisses and glances, soft reassurances while hidden underneath his covers and quiet promises by the Weirwood tree. He’d shown her with trust, given and gained. He’d shown her with the night sky, and arms securely wrapped around her.

“He does,” she said then, surprising herself with a smile blossoming on her face.

Helaena brought her hand over her friend’s lap, brushing the tip of her fingers to her knuckles - she eased her fists right away, the soothing touch so similar to the one she’d done countless times on herself, on the princess, too. She picked her hand up, palm against palm, and craned her neck a little to study the ring, sapphires and amethyst shimmering.

“I told him to mind the fall,” the princess pointed out, voice a little distant, still drawing circles across the back of her hand with her other one as she frowned - words she remembered her saying twice, mind the fall, mind the fall with her. “Has he asked you to marry him, then?” she nodded slowly, glad it had been her saying the words.

“He has,” she said, and Helaena took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Good,” was her only reply, and she glanced up at her with eyes open wide, lips parted, startled. At her silence, Helaena too looked up, tilting her head to the other side.

“You’re not… cross?” she asked quietly, limbs so heavy she didn’t think she’d be able to pick them up again. It was the princess’ turn to frown. “Why would I be?” she asked, face softening in a smile as she leaned forward. “You’ll be my sister then.”

Relief washed over her so abruptly she could not help the sob escaping her, frame bending forward as she reached for Helaena. She wrapped both her arms around her, the princess remaining tense for just a moment before returning the hug, a tangle of arms and skirts as they held onto the other tightly. She thought she was crying as she buried her head against Helaena’s shoulder, but the princess just kept rubbing her back - how often she’d done the same at night, soothing her from dreams she did not like.

“I must tell Aemond to not steal you away from me too often, even if you are to be his wife,” Helaena murmured and, unable to help herself, she laughed.

“You mustn’t worry about that, princess,” she sniffled, pulling back from the hug - there was a rosy hue to Helaena’s cheeks, and she brushed it quickly with her thumb, as if taking it away. “I have no intention of letting my affections for him get in the way of us.”

“Perhaps then you’ll sneak out of his rooms to get to mine instead,” Helaena grinned and, leaving her to her bafflement, returned to her embroidery.

The crowd made her dizzy - she could not remember the last time so many eyes were on her, and though years had passed from her previous life, there was a constant, terrifying alarm in her head. If someone recognised her, it might be over, not even Queen Alicent could help her. The cloak felt heavy on her shoulders, the colours not belonging to her family - anonymous, unworthy of notice. That would’ve been, if not for the fact she was marrying a prince.

The godswood was silent as she walked along the path, blissful quiet interrupted only by her steps, and Helaena’s behind her. She wasn’t sure she still believed the Gods, old or new, but she could trust the sense of safety that enveloped her as she made her way towards the prince, waiting for her by the Weirwood tree. The white and red robes wrapped around her were comfortable, warm, safe - to see Aemond don the same colours, so different from his usual black attire, made her smile. The headpiece carefully balanced on top of her braided hair chimed with her steps, like a song welcoming her home.

Their eyes were burning the back of her head - the queen and princess stood by her, no man accompanying her towards the septon, but her protectors during her new life, leading her to the man that had set her free. She forced herself to focus on that, gaze fixed on the one-eyed prince - not the King, who hadn’t said a single word about the whole ordeal, uncaring; not the older prince, his head slightly bowed. Her attention was for Aemond only - it had to. And in return, he smiled.

The flames kissed the planes of Aemond’s face, lights dancing around him from candles lit precariously close to the trees - it didn’t seem to matter, not with the way the prince smiled, not with the thundering of her own heart trapped behind her ribcage louder and louder with each step. That was the moment, she thought, the moment everything would change: it didn’t matter that the people would witness a ceremony the following day, it didn’t matter that the King and Queen would see them, two people getting married in the eyes of the Seven, too.

It was Helaena removing the cloak from her shoulders - passing from a sister to a brother, the closest thing to tradition the situation would allow. If anyone had had anything to say on the matter, they’d either kept it for themselves or had been silenced - she couldn’t find it in her to care. It was all a show, for the people to know it had happened. They were bound already, even before he wrapped his cloak on her shoulders, hands lingering about her throat, gaze cast towards the binding around the palm of his left hand, matching her own.

“Blood of two joined as one,” Helaena recited as she closed her eyes, offering her mouth to the small weapon in Aemond’s grip. “Ghostly flame and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers forged in fourteen fires,” she didn’t flinch when he cut her, instead fixed her gaze on him, lingering on the missing eyepatch that had left a red mark on his temple. “A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness. The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.”

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife,” the septon began wrapping the ribbon around their uncut hands, slowly binding them to the other, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

The dragonglass was cold in the palm of her hand, her grip temporarily unsure as she held it to Aemond’s lip. The sapphire shimmered when he shifted, eyelids trembling slightly.

“Not having second thoughts now, are you?” it was meant jokingly, an amused whisper between the two of them, even with Helaena still present, their only witness besides the Gods.

“No,” was her quick reply, gaze flickering towards his. “Of course not,” she cupped her free hand to his cheek. “It’ll scar,” she said then, softer. Unable to help himself, he chuckled, brushing the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip.

She licked her bottom lip, the fresh, linear cut left uncovered still visible, the taste of blood still lingering. Already bound by fire and blood, they stood before the Seven with their hands joined as the septon began the prayer, leading the people with them, their heads bowed accompanied by stolen glances.

Her blood smudged on his thumb, a sharp hiss leaving her when he pressed the thumb gently into the fresh cut on her lip, her eyes shimmering making him grin.

“It will,” he replied, and his smile widened, euphoria overtaking them both as her lips parted with a light hiss. “I don’t care - it’ll be a reminder of you, of us,” the tip of her tongue darted out, tasting herself on her mouth, on his finger as he leaned his head closer. “Of this.”

“I believe sneaking out in the middle of the night to perform a secret wedding is quite worthy of remembrance in and of itself, my love,” she whispered, and before he could reply she cut his lip, pain setting his eye ablaze.

The ribbon was soft, a strand of silk singing with the intertwining movements, one turn around the hands over the other.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words:”

He traced the symbol on her forehead slowly, blood warm and thick running over her skin - Fire, burning bright like the red of her hair still capturing the flames. She did the same with the symbol they’d taught her just mere minutes before - Blood, dark and shimmering on his pale skin.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” they spoke in unison, looking at each other, and she couldn’t help the smile on her mouth, making her lip tingle with the movement, the threat of the wound reopening sending shivers down her spine.

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,” Aemond said, each word clear, audible, echoing throughout the full Sept, echoing in her own words -

“I am his and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

“It’ll scar,” he said, a little amused, cutting his palm above the cup she was holding, letting it drip into it for one, two, three, seven seconds before Helaena wrapped his palm for him, quiet and with eyes filled with mirth. “Do you want me to do it?” he asked softly, holding his hand slightly up. She shook her head, handing him the goblet instead and taking the dragonglass from him. She was resolute, decided, the cut firm, red dripping down the tip of her fingers right away for one, two, three -

Aemond, fingers wrapped around hers to tighten the binding, leaned in slowly. “With this kiss, I pledge my love,” he announced, keeping his voice just a little lower - my love, words spoken in the middle of the night they held onto desperately, almost fearful they would disappear, almost afraid it would be but a dream.

The dream did not end, but bled into their first public kiss, with cheers she stopped caring whether they were truthful or not.

As Helaena wrapped her hand as well, she met Aemond’s eye, lifting the cup to her own lips, bloods dark and showing the reflection of the creature she’d become - something unnatural, someone he could love, someone who loved him just as fiercely, forged in dragonfire, made of the same substance. She drank almost greedily, the tip of his fingers guiding the goblet, hungry gaze watching her, the bob of her throat and, when they moved it back, the smear of blood across her mouth - he fought the urge to lean in and drink from her instead, taste their union directly from her lips, take it all and more.

The kiss stung, skin pulling and burning as she squeezed his hand within the bindings, letting her eyes flutter shut fully so the rest of the world could vanish and, even there, even then, it could be just them, their union all that mattered, foregoing titles and roles until all was left was the taste of copper and the feeling of the prince’s body closing the gap. When Aemond pulled back - only partially concerned with propriety as his arm slid about her waist underneath his own cloak - his lips were stained red, pulled in a smirk, and she could feel the single drop of blood falling slowly towards her chin.

“Old Gods, New Gods, Fire and Blood,” she whispered, only faintly aware of the crowd awaiting them. “You’re stuck with me now, my prince, in the eyes of them all.”

He emptied the cup, and she smiled. She smiled and smiled and then leaned in to kiss him at last, sealing the whole ordeal, ending the ceremony with that immortal bond on the tip of their tongues - blood and blood, fire and fire, within and outside, two people made one.

“Good,” he replied, kissing the wound one last time before turning her towards the people. Their new princess, his bride, his love.

A goddess made of fire, forged in blood.

jorrāeliarza - dear/beloved ñuha gevie rēko - my beautiful rose ñuhon - mine ñuha ābrazȳrys - my wife