cw ⋮⋮ mdni ⋮⋮ nipple play ⋮⋮ oral fixation ⋮⋮ emotional vulnerability ⋮⋮ comfort sex ⋮⋮ 0.4k
“aemond…” you moan softly, back arching off the bed as his mouth closes over your breast.
he came back late, still carrying the day on him. he didn’t say a word when he walked in. just pulled your nightgown down and pressed his face straight into your chest like he couldn’t wait another second. now he’s nuzzling in deep, nose and lips dragging over the soft skin between your breasts before he takes one nipple into his mouth and starts to suck.
it’s slow at first. careful. like he’s trying to calm himself down. a low, shaky moan leaves him against your skin as he sucks, tongue moving in slow circles before he pulls your nipple deeper. you feel the wet heat of his mouth, the steady pull that sends sparks down your spine.
you slide your fingers into his long silver hair, holding the back of his head gently, keeping him there. your body arches up into his mouth without thinking, offering yourself, letting him take what he needs.
he groans again, the sound vibrating right through your chest as he switches to the other breast. he sucks slower now, flicking his tongue softly. one of his hands comes up to hold your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple he just left, wet and sensitive under his touch.
his hips shift against the bed, grinding down in slow, restless movements. you can feel how hard he is, how badly he needs the friction, but he doesn’t stop sucking. he stays right there, face buried in your chest, breathing you in between every pull of his mouth. you feel the tension in his shoulders start to loosen the longer he stays latched on.
you stay quiet except for the soft, breathy sounds that slip out when he sucks a little harder. your fingers move slowly through his hair, stroking, holding him close. letting him feel how warm and soft you are.
eventually his hand drifts lower, fingers sliding between your legs where you’re already wet. he touches you gently, rubbing slow circles while his mouth never leaves your breast. he keeps sucking like he can’t bring himself to stop even as his fingers move against you.
when it gets to be too much, he lifts his head just enough to look at you. you know what he wants before he can even get the words out. you give a small nod as you gently card your fingers through his hair.
he shifts up your body and pushes into you slow, the thick stretch making your breath catch. the second he’s inside, he drops his head right back down and takes your breast into his mouth again. he sucks as he starts to move — deep, steady thrusts that keep his face pressed tight to your chest.
you hold him there, fingers tangled gently in his hair. your soft moans mix with the wet sounds of his mouth on you and the slow drag of him inside you.
aemond could feel the red hot pulse of anger deeply root itself inside of his bones. he was irritated. vexed. disgruntled at the thought of not having you by his side. this morning had been one of pure bliss, aemond finding no other peace than waking up with his beautiful wife tangled in the sheets beside him. he had plans to ravish you, make you come more times than you could count. yet a swirl of light silver hair came barging into your shared chambers, helaena and aegon’s little darling jaehaera begging for time to spend with her favourite aunt.
“how can i say no to such a beauty?” you had cooed, sitting up against the pillows and pulling jaehaera into your lap. aemond found himself frowning as you brushed at her cheeks, tickling her stomach until the little girl giggled with delight. he wanted to be the one getting attention from you. wanted to be the one who you caressed with such deep care and love in your touch.
you had left to go get dressed with the princess, leaving aemond alone and annoyed. he sat in bed for what felt like a millennium, scowling at the ceiling as he tried his best to not think of you on top of him, leaving delicate kisses on his skin and praising him in the way he loved. aemond would never admit to anyone that he was pathetic for his wife, but it was true, and he yearned for the time stolen away from him where he could have you exactly how he liked.
for the rest of the day, aemond tried his luck at getting you alone. he tried catching you when the two of you went to break your fast with his family, attempting to sit beside you and tease you a bit under the table. yet when he walked into the dining hall, both jaehaera and jaehaerys had book ended your seat, giggling along with you as you made smiley faces out of their meat and eggs.
after his training, he tried to find you in helaena’s chambers, for he knew that you liked spending your time with his sister to do your needlework and read. when he approached the heavy oak doors, a guard let aemond know that you had taken the twins on a walk through the godswood, leaving helaena to put her other child maelor down for a nap and have some much needed alone time.
it was then that tyland lannister found aemond in the hall, reminding him of the council meetings they had to attend to for the next couple of hours. feeling that simmering rage in his gut almost boil over, aemond stalked through the halls towards the council room, not even focusing on tyland’s quick steps behind him as he tried to catch up with the princes quick strides.
all aemond targaryen wanted was to be buried in between his wives thighs, lapping at her cunt until he couldn’t breathe. yet it seemed that the gods — or better yet his niece and nephew, had other plans, and aemond was starting to become restless.
even as aemond sat in the council room, his ire growing stronger as useless lords gave their two cents to his even more useless brother, he felt a need to be with you, to laugh in the face of the gods as he finally got you to himself. it was torturous and evil, and aemond could feel the very thin line of restraint in his chest ready to snap.
when aegon called for the meeting to be over, aemond had never stood up faster. he didn’t look twice at any of the lords or his vapid brother as he stalked out of the room, strides quick as he made his way back to his and yours shared chamber.
daylight was breaking out into dawn, the bright blues of the sky melting into pinks and oranges. he wished you to be in the chamber. wished you to be getting undressed and wished you to be ready for his affections. he begged and yearned for you all day, and if you weren’t there for him at the winding end of the road, he would surely loose his mind.
the hinges of the chamber doors let out a crackling moan as aemond pushes them open, your head turning away from the mirror you stand in front of, brush in hand and nightgown smoothed down on your frame as you get ready for nighttime. aemond nearly sighs out of relief when he sees your smiling face, all the anger and anxiety leaving his body as you softly place the hair brush on a table, looking at your husband with curious eyes.
“my love?” you question, seeing the anxiety radiating off of his body. “is everything alright-“
everything moves quicker than you imagined, for aemond strides across the room so languidly, you barley see him leave his post in the door frame and get to his spot standing before you. dropping to his knees in a pathetic fashion, aemond wraps his arms around your waist greedily, burying his face into your sternum as he breathes in your intoxicating scent. the smell of your freshly washed linens and the lavender emanating off of your skin is like a shot of dopamine towards aemond’s chest, leaving him pliant in your hold.
“i need you.” the words come out of aemond in a whine, and you find yourself raising your eyebrows with a slight smirk at his begging behaviour. “gods, i need you so bad. all day, i have yearned for you. all day, i have prayed to the gods that you would find me, so i may be able to feast upon your cunt and get me out of my misery.”
a coo leaves your lips at aemond’s words, similar to the one you gave jaehaera this morning. pressing your palms against the side of his head, you stroke aemond’s hair behind his ears, twirling some of the strands in between your fingers as he starts leaving kisses upon your clothed stomach.
“is that what you want?” you ask, a soft lilt to your voice that leaves aemond weak in the knees. “does my boy need attention? a cunt to feast on to forget his troubles?”
aemond could only nod against your stomach, his hands bunching up the fabric of your shift towards your waist. he was making his way to your centre. making his way to the place he’s been begging for all day.
you allowed him to get what he wanted, soaking in your own pleasure has aemond feasted upon your cunt. it was euphoric and blinding, leaving you a squirming mess at the knees, one who needed her husband to carry her to bed so he could fuck her senseless.
Synopsis: For years, Prince Aemond Targaryen wrestled with a question no maester, knight, nor king could answer for him: how does one court a lady like you?
Warnings: Miscommunication Trope, Fluff, Courtship, Soft Aemond, Down Bad Aemond
Word count: 4.5k
Part: I, II, III, IV
He met you on the last day of spring. You were a shy little thing, hiding behind your father's legs and clutching onto your mother’s skirts as they tried to introduce you to the queen. Aemond had stood beside his mother then, his eyebrow raised as you slowly stepped away behind your parents and curtsied low before them. Your eyes were steady on the ground, and Aemond almost laughed when you quickly hid yourself from their gazes.
You were an odd one, he thought for a while. He did not mean to spy on you, yet he often found himself hiding behind a pillar or bush just to observe the odd and overly quiet girl from Essos. You were born in YiTi. A land so distant and different from them, and Aemond had believed that your oddness was because of your land’s customs. However, as days and moons passed, he learned that you were truly just different from the other ladies of the court.
Aemond was no stranger to the peculiar. He had seen eccentricity before, his family being a prime example. His sister was overly interested in bugs and murmuring to herself. His eldest brother had a strange fascination with women twice his age. Even his father, the king, was hyperfixated on the miniature models, spending most of his time on them instead of caring for his children. Aemond was not in a state to question nor critique your demeanour, he was simply curious.
He was curious why you hid yourself in the desolate corners of the gardens, the shade of a weeping willow tree near a pond being your favourite. He was intrigued by why you barely spoke, and if you did, you spoke so softly, as if you were whispering a secret that was only meant for certain ears to hear. But most of all, he was eager to learn why he was so interested in you.
Perhaps it was your appearance. Admittedly, there were not many YiTish in court– there were only three, you and your kin. Perhaps it was that. Aemond was fascinated by your fox-like eyes, heart-shaped lips, and your silky onyx hair. And as you two grew older, your already striking appearance only furthered. It was a shame you hated attention, as you were always the center of it. Aemond could not recall a day when not a single knight, lord, or even prince did not look back at you as you passed them in the halls. He noted how their pupils would always dilate ever so slightly, and some would even let their mouths hang in astonishment.
Maybe it was because of your insistence on not being noticed– maybe that is what fueled his intrigue. An ironic turn of events, for even if you try to hide yourself behind crowds and shadowy corners, he still found you. Once, you were invited to play the hiding game with other ladies of the court. Where the other ladies hid themselves behind pillars and cramped broom closets, you opted to hide in the wine cellars in hopes they would not find you and simply leave you be. Aemond found that particular memory quite amusing. Especially as it was the first time he saw your fox-like eyes turn doe-like as he caught you by surprise.
“What are you doing here?” Aemond questioned as he saw you tilt your head to read the marking on the large, oak barrels. A surprise yelp left your lips, and it was the loudest sound Aemond had ever heard you make. He bit back his smile as you rested a hand on your chest, your other hand fisted your skirts as if to ground yourself.
You were twelve now. You had spent the last three years in the Red Keep, but only now did Aemond decide to speak with you. He must admit that he had gotten used to simply following you about the castle, that speaking to you barely crossed his mind. It was thought that only came in the dead, silence of the night. Where, instead of sleeping, he would think of an opening phrase to utter if and when he approached.
“My prince,” You curtised quickly, your eyes still planted on the ground, and did not even dare to look at his. “I was playing a game of hide and seek with the other ladies,”
Aemond hummed as he cautiously took a step forward. “You are quite competitive then. Not a single one of them has even ventured near your hiding place. I suppose you could be declared the winner.”
You gave a wry smile, eyes still planted on the ground, where you could see each cautious step the prince took to inch closer to you. Aemond observed you closely, as this was the closest he had been to you since the first day you two met.
“You are gifted in hiding.” The prince remarked, and he felt his heart skip a beat as a small yet true smile came to your lips. “And you are gifted at seeking.” You remarked, but the smile on your lips dissipated, and a questioning frown took its place.
“How did you even know I was here, my prince?” You asked in great confusion. Not even the ladies who invited you to their game found your hiding place. How then did the prince find you?
Aemond never answered your question. Even after moons passed, he never once explained how he would always find you; he would only appear by your side, and he was fortunate enough that once he discovered a concealed corner, you were kind enough not to leave or excuse yourself from his presence.
The following year, a decision was made: Prince Aemond made known his intention to court you.
You could still vividly remember the confusion that overcame you when your father informed you of his conversation with the prince.
“He was quite eager for my approval if I were to be honest. He would not leave my side the entire afternoon. Well, at least not until I gave him my blessing.” Your father hummed as he poured himself a cup of wine. The moon was high, and so was your bewilderment. You never thought that a prince would court you. A statement not at all brought forth by modesty, but genuine confusion. When he discovered you in your hiding places, you assumed he was merely searching for somewhere to conceal himself as well. It never crossed your mind that he had been searching for you all along. “But why would he wish to court me?”
“I believe that is a question we should be asking you, my child.” Your mother hummed, a small, almost teasing smile on her lips as she did her nightly embroidery. She hummed and exchanged glances with your father, who hid a smirk behind the cup of wine he raised to his lips. “I wouldn’t even know what to answer. I, too, am just as confused as you.”
“Well then, perhaps it is best that you ask the prince the question on all our minds.” Your mother suggested, as you mindlessly nodded, standing and kissing their cheeks as you returned to your chambers. However, as you neared the door to your room, you froze in shock as you saw the prince already waiting for you in the shadowy halls.
He had a small flower pot in his hands— a rather odd image of a royal prince holding a potted orchid in his hands when you had gotten used to seeing him holding his sword.
Aemond felt out of breath as he stared at you through the light of the moon. You looked radiant— ethereal— nymph-like.
“This is for you,” he nervously said. Aemond was a brave man. He was courageous when he claimed his dragon. He was courageous when his eye was taken. And he was courageous when he asked for your father’s blessing to court you. However, he felt the courage he always relied on falter when he came face to face with you.
He watched as your ever stoic gaze finally met his. In the years he had known you, he had gotten used to your overly composed state. You were reserved, like he, however, you were more consistent in your reservation. The only moments when he actually witnessed your reactions were moments when you were startled or confused.
“Why?” You asked plainly, and Aemond felt his heartbeat in his ears. “Why? Because I’ve noticed you are fond of flowers— and I do believe that your favoured ones are orchids.” He explained and held out the pot closer to you. A confused frown overcame your face.
“No… why had you decided to court me, your highness?” You asked, not wanting to be vexed by the question the entire night. Unfortunately, your question was left unanswered once more as the prince simply reached for your hand and placed the small bundle of flowers in it. A smile on his lips as he bid you good night and left the halls.
How do you court a lady? Aemond could not help but think. He had hoped that he would find the answer long before he asked for your father’s blessing, yet here he was, kept up at night trying of ways on how to court you.
In hindsight, courtship should have come naturally to him. However, he was a prince– a pawn for the crown. The custom was to bind him to a lady who came from a family that could be great allies to the crown; however, Aemond had taken it upon himself to find a match made by himself, not his grandsire or mother. He had seen the effects of marriages borne out of duty, and as dutiful as he was, he’d rather not subject himself to a loveless marriage filled with misery.
Do you win a lady through gifts? Aemond thought. Ladies of the court seemed to easily give their agreements to the lords who courted them when they were given gifts. Who was Aemond to question such traditions? Especially when he was entirely clueless about what to do.
It started with little gifts left by your door. Each morning, you would be stirred awake with a light knock on your door and a gift left unattended. The first morning, it was a jade pendant from your home, YiTi. The light green stone was remarkable and unmistakable under the early morning sun.
Aemond hid himself behind a pillar and watched your knitted brows as you held the necklace to your eye, a small smile on his lips as he could already foresee the image of you wearing his little gift. However, Aemond’s enthusiasm was left dim when he found you in the gardens, bare-necked, and mentioned naught about the necklace you found.
The prince was disheartened, but not so much to easily relent. It was the first days of your courtship. Of course, he could not be so vain and arrogant to think that you would lay yourself on his feet after offering you a simple pendant. He at least thought a small blush would come to your face when you met him that day; however, he supposed he asked for much for his little effort.
The second day, he sent a pair of pearl earrings. Pearls harvested from the mighty seas of the Orient. On the third, he sent a set of gold rings mined deep within Casterly Rock.
When the fourth day came, he sent various rolls of fabric for your dresses. Light blue silk from Lys. Delicate white laces from Myr. A serene cream velvet from Braavos. Crimson brocades from Volantis. Fine threads of various colors from the Reach.
Aemond almost revealed his hiding place in great concern when you opened the door, and the rolls of fabric that he set upright came toppling down. Almost crushing you if you were not agile enough to step to the side. You did not use a single fabric nor thread for any of your fine dresses.
By the fifth day, the prince already had the inkling to quit. It was clear that you were not easily impressed– he was foolish to think you otherwise, for if you were, he certainly would not be this eager in your courtship. Nevertheless, the prince was no quitter.
By the fifth day, he veered away from the usual gifts given to the court ladies. Instead of shiny things, the prince left a small wooden dragon that he had carved in childhood. It was imperfect– it was left dusted in some corner of his chambers for years until the moment the prince decided to offer it to you.
When you opened your chamber doors after hearing a soft knock, you almost expected a chest of gold left by your doorstep. However, a small, yet true smile came to your lips when you saw a simple carved dragon made from oak waiting for you. Aemond almost hollered in triumph as he saw the corners of your lips curl upwards ever so slightly. Inspecting the carving with more interest than the shiny jewels he had left days before.
He watched as your fingers delicately traced the carvings he made, a sense of giddiness at the thought that your fingers caressed the wood that bore his touch. A new sense of hope coursing in his bloodstream.
Aemond had foolishly hoped that it was enough for you to return his affections, or at least announce your favour towards him, so the other line of suitors who paid you tribute would dissipate. However, the prince would be a fool to think that simple carving would have you swooning.
Word got around about how you set the little carving on your bedside table, near you, even in sleep. That was enough to inspire your other suitors to send you tens of pieces of woodwork, turning your chambers into a woodcarver’s shop.
Aemond knew he must take a different approach, which led him to question once more: How do you court a lady?
Could Aemond win you through feats of strength?
As all know, Aemond had no care for tourneys. He found it pointless– superfluous– pathetic for a man of his station. Yet, he rode out into the grounds, adorned in his armour, hoping to seek the favour of the lady he courted.
Aemond struggled to find where you sat through the slats of his helm. His mount circled the grounds as he searched for you through the jeering crowds, when he spotted the familiar outline of your parents without you by your mother’s side. He frowned severely as he realized that you would not attend, and he could not seek your favour.
He felt foolish as he charged his horse, his lance unadorned by a flower garland but stained by blood. He knew you well. You hid from crowds. What then led him to believe that you would willingly attend a tourney? Aemond felt no satisfaction the entire day, even if he was named the victor. The only speck of satisfaction he found was when he spotted you by a bench in the quiet gardens as a celebratory feast commenced. You said not a word when the prince sat next to you. Yet, that was enough for Aemond.
However, not enough for him to learn how to capture your favour. Especially as Aemond heard cruel whispers of you leaving Westeros.
“You are leaving?” The prince asked in dread as he found you in your usual place, hidden inside the weeping branches of a willow tree. It had been a year after he announced his intent to court you, and it had been a year filled with gifts, flowers, and attention that you not once asked for, but Aemond was enthusiastic to give.
He stood behind you as you sat on the cool, soft grass. His body tense, his stomach pitted, and his heart aching even if he denied it as such.
You turned your head to glance at the prince, his eye steely– almost seething, and his hands clenched tightly by his side. Aemond swallowed thickly as the afternoon sun cast you aglow and formed an angelic halo. How could you look so beautiful even as you threatened to leave him?
“Only for a year, my prince.” You explained and watched as Prince Aemond fervently shook his head and took his place next to you. “You are to leave for a year.” He gritted out, his fists clenching tightly around the damp grass.
“Well, a year and two moons. It takes a month of sailing and traveling to reach YiTi.” You clarified as you set your eyes on the pond's calm waters, which reflected the afternoon light. Aemond breathed heavily at the thought of you leaving him for more than a year. What shall happen then? Would you garner new admirers in your homeland? Should you be forced to take a groom who resembles your own culture and customs? What should become Aemond then? Would he be a man who lost the only lady who consumed his thoughts for the past five years?
“What of our courtship then?” He could not help but ask, his hand that gripped the grass, loosening as it inched closer to yours. “What of it, your highness?”
Aemond pursed his lips. His eye was intently studying every possible expression that may come to your ever-composed face. He stayed silent, and he heard a sigh leave your lips before you turned your head to meet his gaze.
“Do you wish to cease courting me?” You asked quietly, heartbeat erratic, and you tried your best not to let it show.
“No.” The prince quickly answered, and you bit back a smile as you stood, watching as the prince followed each single one of your movements. “Then court me in YiTi, my prince.”
“Another letter, my lady,” a maid called as she approached with a rather thick scroll that was wrapped tightly and bore the Targaryen seal. It had been three moons since you had left Westeros, and it had been three moons filled with consistent letters from the prince.
You sat upright on your bed, your eyes glancing and admiring the simple wooden carving of a dragon that the prince gave you years before, placing a small smile on your lips as your maid exited your chambers and left you in your own company.
How long must I live in agony, my lady?
You breathed out a laugh as you read the first line of the prince’s letter. You sighed dreamily as a blush came to your cheeks, and your fingers caressed the bold letters of what he wrote.
Sometimes, at night, you feared the prince would leave you spurned. You feared that you were not enough for him to keep interested. That your overly composed and some would even say, stoic demeanor would run him off, and he’d find a lady who did not struggle in showing their affections.
In truth, the reason why you were completely perplexed when he decided to court you was because you had been completely infatuated with him ever since you arrived in the Red Keep. As children, many feared him and his lack of one eye, but if you were being honest, you quite liked him that way.
It was a tragedy, of course, but the silver lining was that even if he had only one eye, never once did the unique lilac orbs leave your thoughts.
You bit your lip as you drafted your letter of reply. The prince had sent a dozen letters, yet the one you wrote would only be your fifth letter sent. You stared long and hard at the blank parchment, torn as to what to write. Fear was a powerful emotion that often left their captives paralyzed. And so, you took a deep breath and simply wrote.
Wrote anything and everything you could think of. No direction. No aim. Simply a letter written in hopes the prince would be reminded of your existence and would wait until your return.
I believe your dragon would enjoy the East. There is a vast valley near my grandsire’s keep that your great Vhagar would find agreeable.
I also believe that you shall enjoy the East. I recall that you are fond of combat, and here, there are customs in which fighters do not rely on weapons but simply their bodies. Men fight with open palms, swift and fluid like water, while others strike with such force that one would think their fists forged from steel. I suspect that you shall excel in such a kind of combat, my prince.
Aemond bit his lip as he reread your letter for the tenth time in an hour. Gods, he wanted to feel foolish. There he was, in his grandsire’s study, being forced to listen to business dealings, all the while his only thought was of you. His heart that beat for no other than you, swelled at the thought that not only did you write to him, but you as well knew of his fondness for combat and were thinking of his dragon too.
Lord Otto eyed his grandson in curiosity and concern. For the past hour, Aemond read a letter repeatedly, would let out a yearning sigh, and stare at the wall with an odd softness in his eye that he could not believe was capable. “Are you listening, Aemond?”
Aemond breathed out another sigh. His mind recalling what you had written, imagining your voice that uttered what you wrote echoing in his head. Gods, he missed you. He did not even think he’d miss you as intensely as he did. You were a quiet little thing, you prefer to go unnoticed, and the prince foolishly thought that he could manipulate his mind to think that you were simply hiding away in your corner, but he felt your absence deeply, and he could not concentrate on his duties.
“This is pathetic, my prince.” He heard his grandsire sigh from his desk. The lord hand’s gaze steady on a parchment containing business while his grandson reread a letter over and over.
“I did not ask for your opinion.” Aemond gritted out. The elation he felt just moments earlier quickly disappeared at his grandsire’s words. Otto Hightower sighed.
“You are a prince of the realm. You have hundreds of ladies at your disposal, yet you obsess over a lady who cannot even name you as her favoured suitor. A lady who you had let distract you from your duties. Had you acting and sighing like a damsel as well.”
“She had made you weak. Turned you into a simpleton.”
Prince Aemond frowned deeply, his fists clenching around air. No word of reply nor defense on his tongue as his grandsire plainly said the doubts and thoughts he fought hard to repress. Aemond had grown distracted as to who he truly was. He acted like a love-sick pup when he was meant to be a dragon prince.
Aemond did not respond to your letter. Nor did he respond to the other two that followed. He simply let the year of your absence pass. His grandsire’s word aimed true to his heart. All his life, the only thing the prince knew was that he did not like being seen as weak. He had been weak as a child, as he let his brother and nephews constantly belittle him. He knew it could not happen once more, even if you were the reason.
For the following moons, the prince made no move to contact you. He sent no bi-weekly letters. He sent no greetings or regards. He even hindered himself in sending you a bundle of gifts on your name day. He exercised a great feat of restraint and control for an entire year, simply lying in wait until the dawn of your return came.
Prince Aemond stood by the docks, his veins fueled with adrenaline and his heart aching to see you once more. He did not know how he had been able to resist you for a year, yet it did not matter, for now his long suffering was to come to an end.
However, as he watched your parents disembarked the ship, it was painfully obvious that you were left in YiTi.
***
Prince Aemond broke your heart. Your great fears of being left spurned– of being forgotten turned true as the prince seemed to forget your existence. He ignored your letters, even if you sent three scrolls consecutively. You had spent your days staring longingly out the windows, hoping that the ravens that flew would come with a letter from a prince, but none did.
You tried your best to hide the grief you felt at the prince’s action. You tried to act your usual detached and unemotional self. But each time you would sit alone in either the great gardens of your home or at banquets and feasts, you feel your heart pit as you had gotten used to the prince finding his way to you and accompanying you even through silence.
The days that led to your return to Kingslanding, you made the decision to stay in YiTi. You could not subject yourself to return to Westeros with a broken heart. You could not fathom the thought of facing Prince Aemond once more. And so, you stayed. You did not return after a year and two moons. You stayed in YiTi under your grandsire’s care and hoped that the ache in your heart would dissipate soon enough.
“The Westerns are simple-minded– especially the Targaryens. They act as if they are gods among men when in truth, they’re mere ferrets who only rose to power because of their dragons.” You hear your grandfather remark as you join him for supper.
Your parents had sent word that they were already in Kingslanding, and they also mentioned that the courtiers had to ask why you did not return. They mentioned naught of the prince, and you did not know whether to feel grateful or not.
“They reside on stolen land. They trample over the cultures and customs of those before them and punish those who disagree with their views. They appear to be almost the same as us, but not quite, for they trample over others they believe beneath them.” Your grandsire continued as you picked on your food.
“They were kind hosts,” You defended quietly, but heard as your grandfather clicked his tongue and watched him shake his head.
“It’s a lure, my child. Kindness to those men is given for their amusement– once they tire, they discard what no longer entertains them.” Your fingers tightened around the porcelain cup in your hands, holding it tightly so that you feared the warm tea might spill the moment you cracked the delicate clay. “It’s a lesson you must learn soon enough.”
Across the narrow sea, a prince stewed in rage, anger, fear, and sadness, trying his best to figure out how to get his girl back.
cw: sexual content, this is about boobs, knife kink, blood kink, lactation, drinking, etc
Your husband Aegon, was drunk, again. And you had to play savior, again. You found him in some hovel filled with drunks, his posse of yes men shouting in excitement seeing you come towards them. The pretty wife of the pretty prince. It helped that your figure was filled out with the curve of your chest and hips being visible in any dress you wore. Aegon adored the feel of your full thighs and breasts when he took you, happy to watch the fat move. He was telling one of the younger men at the table, probably newly acquired, about something when he noticed you. Aegon scooted his chair back, opening his arms wide, “wife! How glorious to see you! Come join us!” He patted his lap for you to take a seat which made you roll your eyes but oblige him. His hand rested on the curve of your waist with his other wrapped around a cup of ale. His head was resting on your shoulder, nodding along to some boy's story.
Aegon has never been good with keeping his hands to himself, even more so when drinking. His hand that was on your waist began exploring your body, feeling whatever he could grabbing anything he could get his hands on. You tried to tell him off but he gave you that dopey smile that you couldn’t stay made at. While he was distracting you with his smile, his hand came up grasping your bosom through the corset you wore. You gasped, slapping his chest but he refused to remove his hands, saying it was practically his as he was yours and you his.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Aemond never considered himself selfish, that was until his wife gave birth. Watching your attention be dragged away from him to focus on the child made him unrationably angry, wanting your eyes and love focused on him instead. There were moments where your attention did belong to only him, which he revelled in. One of those moments was alone in bed together.
The two of you were resting after Aemond took his jealousy on you, leaving you both entirely bare including his eyepatch. Aemond rested with his head on your chest, having you run your fingers through his hair as he soaked in the feeling of the fat of your chest molding around him. His lips formed around your nipple, sucking in like he had never eaten before. One thing he was grateful to his child for was how your breasts seemed to have grown during pregnancy and the sweet milk that spilled from them afterwards.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You were in Helaena’s quarters as you were the maid helping her care for the twins, after having a babe of your own. Having two babies was always harder than one making you sympathize for the sweet girl, you could tell she truly loved them. You were mainly there just to support her or give her some time to think without the kids crawling over her. On nights when her dreams got to her and the babies woke up at the same time that she was, taking their attention away from their mother to be on you instead. The twins treated you like a second mom a bunch of times, coming to show you toys after they showed them to Helaena. The way you treated her babies made Helaena love you as well.
Tonight you were holding Maelor, letting Helaena sleep in when he fussed over anything, the other two kids asleep happily. You were feeding Maelor, smiling at him in the dead of night. Helaena could see you from her bed as you cared for her child. She got out of bed to join where you two were resting. You smiled at her when she got closer to little Maelor unlatching from your breast. You didn’t see to realize as you kept your breast out to the air, Helaena’s eyes dropping to it. She motioned to you mumbling, “you-you are, um still exposed.” you gasped quickly, righting herself feeling Helaena’s eyes burning into you.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You were in the sept in old town, praying to the seven around the candle covered altar when your husband came and joined you, kneeling beside you. He lit a candle before lowering his head in prayer, copying your pose. The sept was empty with just the two of you in the massive hall, making Ormund more bold with his actions and his words. He brought his face closer to yours, whispering in your ear, “you are tempting me wife, your breasts are calling to me even in this holy place.”
You gapped at him, open mouthed like a fish from the Riverlands. He smirked at you before his eyes shot down your neckline looking down your dress to take in more of your chest and the skin that was exposed to him then.
“We are in a sept!” You whisper to him trying to remind him to be on his best behavior. He looked forward again, bowing his head slightly saying “do not blame me for loving my wife and the blessings the Gods have given her.”
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You could feel her eyes burning into you, of course during a dinner with the royal family you wear a revealing dress. Of course Alicent ever the pious woman noticed it instantly. She looked embarrassed almost as if it was her chest that was being exploded to the room of royals instead of you. You curtseyed in front of her, bowing low whispering a quiet, “your grace” she smiled a strained smile as she nodded giving you back, “my lady.”
You could feel her eyes on you throughout the dinner, some while politely asking you a question or your opinion, others where you could tell she was subtly staring at your chest. No, not staring. Admiring. The queen of the seven kingdoms, the daughter of the house that is the faith of the seven, was admiring your chest from across the table during dinner with her husband beside her. Her eyes met yours with a flustered embarrassed expression passing over her as she looked away. You would have to talk with her later about it, maybe she wants to borrow some dresses or…see what they look like off of you.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
You were her partner in crime, the only person she trusted with the truth of her plans and her schemes. Alys had been your protector for most of your friendship, making you feel like you owed her most of the time. Tonight was no different, she needed your help with some concoction she was making. All you know was that there was something in the mixture that gave off a sweet floral smell. You sat on top of the table in her room as she mixed the blend of ingredients together. You were both wearing simple dresses as you were the only ones awake at this hour.
Alys had said something about the mixture needing more, what the more was you weren’t sure. Well, you weren’t sure until she came over to stand before you holding a knife in her hand. You brought your hand up expecting her to need blood as it wasn’t the first time she did, but instead she smiled saying, “it needs to come from around the heart, lovie.” you undid the lacing at the front of your dress, pulling it down so that more skin was accessible to your lover. She pulled the fabric down to rest around your waist. She brought the knife up to right above your breast, moving the bowl beneath it to catch the fall off. You whimpered slightly at the pull of the blade, Alys smiling up at you, her hand cupped under your chest to direct where the flow went.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
The carriage ride was horrid, they seemed to catch every bump and hole in the road jostling you around inside the carriage. It doesn’t help that the corset you wore was starting to dig into your skin and the neckline of the dress showed off more of your chest then you usually would have liked. Your husband sat in front of you, wanting to spend some time together before you arrived at the castle. That was the excuse he gave but now that you were on the way there his eyes wouldn’t leave your chest and how it moved with each roll of the wheels. He stared wide eyed, almost like if he blinked he would miss an important moment.
The sight of his amazement made you laugh, your whole body shaking with joy. Gwayne finally tore his eyes away from your chest to your face smiling back at you. “I wish to admire my wife, is that so wrong?” You shook your head at him but kept the amused smile. Your husband was thoroughly whipped for you, and your chest.
𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒
Criston wasn’t proud of himself, but he was a man who had needs. He found himself in the streets of silk looking for something, looking for you. He had met you during a low point, one of the older knights bringing him down here to ‘loosen him up,’ and you were so confident practically claiming Criston when he came in and Criston could do nothing to fight against you as you sucked him into your web. You had taken him into a private room, served him drinks and food while listening to his every worry and woe, your fingers working through any knots on his body while stripping him of his armor. It was the best he had ever felt since coming to Kings Landing and he found himself coming to visit you whenever he got too stressed with the life of the High Lords.
You were waiting for him, anytime there was a large event or visiting dignitary he found his way back to you and you welcomed him with open arms. Ready to hear all of his complaints and heal his ailments. Today was different though as he stormed into the room you were waiting in, quickly stripping himself of his armors while staying quiet. You watched from the bed smiling at him, you were usually dressed when he came in but today you weren’t, nude as you would be after your sessions. Criston turned towards you pausing, taking in your form, he quickly moved, placing his hands around your waist and burring his head in your chest, making you laugh loudly.
Aemond has always been obsessed with you. following you around like a lost puppy in his youth. and when you cast him aside after loosing his eye, he spend years trying to win you back. And you welcome it, as long as he gets on his knees for you.
based of this request * Aegon's version, Jace's version *
Aemond Targaryen x Targ!reader
Word count: 3040
CW: MDI, 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unrequited love? slight bullying?, pathetic Aemond, sub aemond , dom reader, brat reader, slow(ish) burn, angst, teasing, self deprecation?, degradation, targcest.
For as long as he could remember, Aemond Targaryen had pined after one person. You.
His entire childhood was filled with you. You, his only friend and only comfort. He worshipped the ground you walked on. And you loved it. Every second of it, of him following you around whenever your family visited Kings Landing, waiting for you to gift him your attention. And you gave it to him, you loved how he worshipped you. How he came to you after every insult his brother gave him, after every silly little prank his nephews pulled.
He saw you as his friend, his saviour, his everything. Until he didn't.
The day of your mother's funeral, everything changed. You had withdrawn from Aemond, stood with your sisters and avoided Aemond's longing gazes. And he, desperate to win your approval, sure that your recent claiming of Silverwing had caused you to move away from him, to not view him as worthy of your time, had decided to claim his own dragon. Vaghar, the very dragon your mother had taken you on countless times, and the dragon you had been trying to get your sister, Rhaena, to claim.
You were awoken in the middle of the night, your sister and cousins shaking you awake, “Someone's trying to steal Vaghar!”
“What?” you asked, rubbing your eyes as you tried to wake. “You can’t steal a dragon,”
“Someone has! Please!” Baela insisted, dragging you from your bed and through the halls of Driftmark. Vaghar landed before you, Aemonds form atop her and a proud smile on his face as he dismounted from her and was met with your face. “It's him!” Jace called out.
“Aemond?” you spoke softly, approaching him slowly. “You claimed my mother's dragon?”
“Your mother's dead”, he replied, the smile he had on his face fading and a frown replacing it. “ Vhagar has a new rider now.” You should be proud of him, happy that he has claimed the biggest dragon, and yet your frown only deepened at his words. He had expected praise, joy even. But instead, he was met with disappointment.
“She was mine to claim!” Rhaena called, her hand reaching for yours. The frown on Aemond's face deepened at the action, “Then you should've claimed her!” his eyes flickering between Rhanea and Jace, “ Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride…It would suit you.”
A scowl rose to your face at his words, your hand leaving Rhaenas, as Baela launched herself at him. After that, it was a blur of screams and hits, as your cousins launched themselves at Aemond.
You had stayed out of it, watching from the sidelines, begging for them to stop. It wasnt until a rock was held to Luke's face that you intervened. A knife dropped to the floor amid the chaos, “Aemond,” you called, the knife in your hand, as you approached him, drop the rock…" Please,” His eyes locked on yours, the rock faltering at your voice, but the throw of sand in your and Aemond’s eyes had you drop the knife into Luke’s hand, causing Aemond to lose an eye.
That night tore Aemond away from you, you were blamed, and Aemond decided to hate you. To push you aside and forget whatever friendship had been forged. He tried to hate you, to resent you entirely. But Aemond found it impossible. All he wanted was you, to have you by his side, helping him as his eye healed. To be a comfort and a friend. But no matter how hard he tried to hate you, it never happened.
You, however, had no issue hating him. He grew from a dear friend to a man you pitied. A man you didn't deem worthy of your time or attention. Years spent on Dragonstone, ignoring his letters begging for forgiveness. And the few visits you had throughout the years were spent ignoring him and detesting him entirely.
The words said during the incident hurt you, but the words he spoke after, in anger, hurt you. Blaming you for everything, his eye, the secrets you had told him, hurt you had told him in confidence, twisted against you. Calling you names. After that, you resented the years you spent as his friend, the years you spent fighting your father and his hatred for the hightowers, the years of’ telling him he wasnt the pitiful prince Aegon said he was. But after that day, he became the annoying, pitiful prince you always insisted he wasn’t.
Every visit to Kingslanding, where he couldn’t resist staying away, were he followed you through the halls, begging for the company he insisted he no longer craved, begging for you to acknowledge him. But you ignored his company, and any words from his lips were met with cold disdain, the roll of your eyes and the turn of your head, dismissing him entirely.
You spent years ignoring him, hating him and with him trying to hate you. But you, every time he tried to ignore him, chose to give him attention. A stare, not longing, just a simple stare in his direction, causing him to falter in his faux cold demeanour. You played a game with him, each time he thought he was making efforts toward hating you, to losing the love he held for you, you turned around and sat next to him at dinner. Your hand would brush his at the table. Sometimes you were cruel in your games, coming to his chambers and throwing the endless letters he had written you into the fire. Saying no word say you turned and left him stewing.
You hated him, deemed him unworthy of your time. Your friendship burned to ashes the day he insulted your sisters, cousins and you.
But Aemond, whose crush and love for you had started small, had grown into an obsession as the years passed. He relished every glance you gave him, every brush of your finger against his. Every time you acknowledged his presence through a scowl and a scoff of disapproval, he grew more and more pathetic and entirely obsessed with you.
But then you disappeared to Dragonstone, for three years straight, he didn’t see you not once. Yet his obsession still lingered, just now, he learnt how to hide it. Using the betrothal set with him and Floris Baratheon to hide.
Your family had been summoned back to court after years away, with Luke's legitimacy as the heir of Driftmark being called into question, and you were forced back to Kingslanding.
“Prince Aemond,” you greeted, seeing the man standing in the training yard, swinging his sword with his hand, a cocky smile on his face.
“Princess”, he greeted, his voice and face cocky, his eyes trailed up and down your body, taking in the sea green dress you wore, the neckline that dipped low enough to show the cleavage of your breasts, something that caused Aemond's eyes to snag on.
“How gracious of Ser Cole to allow you to win.” his smile faltered at your words, his back straightening at your words.
He clicked his tongue, prowling towards you, “and how gracious of you to attend my bethrothal feast,” he smirked, waiting for a reaction, some jealousy.
You scoffed, “Who would marry you?” You walked towards him, circling him, “Someone so entirely pathetic?” you spoke, stopping to whisper in his ear, your hand sliding to his shoulder. Aemond's eyes snapped to your hand, words forming on his tongue. Your hand gripped his bicep, nails digging into him, stopping him from speaking. Face to face with him now, you scowled, eyeing him closely, “I pity her,” you drawled, walking away to leave Aemond to stew. Aemond, who had been so ready to face you, to act nonchalant and ignore you, now wanted nothing more than to chase after you.
You found Aemond easily the next day. He sat in the gardens, outside the windows to your chambers, his eyes focused on anyone but his would-be betrothed, waiting to lock eyes with yours the second you noticed him.
“Floris, is it?” you asked, walking towards the table where she and Aemond sat. Aemond's eyes locked on yours, his hand moving to grip the table as you approached.
“Yes, princess,” she nodded, a nervous smile on her lips as she looked between you and Aemond, her lip twitching as she noticed Aemond's gaze, and how it never once left you. “I hadn’t expected to meet you, princess,” she smiled, her voice wavering as you moved to sit.
You laughed, your eyes following Floris, hand as she moved to grip Aemonds, kissing your teeth as a feeling of envy rushed through you. Aemond smirked, his eyes flickering between you and Floris, slowly pulling his hand away from her.
“Why's that?” you asked, ignoring Aemond's gaze.
“Do you not…” she faltered, gazing nervously at Aemond as she spoke, “ hate each other?”
Aemond chuckled, “I could never hate her,” you scoffed at his words, your hand reaching under the table to grab his hand.
“How sweet,” you cocked your head, waiting for Floris to speak.
“My betrothed and I had plans.” She stated, her eyes turning to Aemond, waiting for him to dismiss you, but his eyes were focused entirely on your hand and his.
“Oh,” you gasped, running your over hand up the length of Aemond’s arm. “betrothed? So it's official,”
“Not yet,” Aemond dismissed, his eyes drawn to your hand, “just discussed,”
You nodded, feigning understanding, “so not betrothed,”
“No, but we are-”
“You should leave,” you cut her off, your hand moving from the length of his arm to his thigh.
A sharp breath left him as you did, “leave us,” he snapped, slamming his hand on the table as your hand reached further up his thigh, towards his crotch.
She huffed, standing quickly and leaving, glaring at you and Aemond as she left.
Your hand moved from his crotch and pushed Aemond away from you. “You don’t hate me?”
“Aemond leaned forward, hoping you would touch him again, “no,”
You rolled your eyes, “You're pathetic,” you scoffed, “you do hate me, admit it,”
“I tried, I don't hate you,” he pushed his hair closer to yours, his hands reaching for yours, “I wanted to, but I can’t”
“As I said, pathetic”, you stood from the table, pushing his hands from you, “after everything you did, you have the gall to not hate me? Pathetic!” You turned towards your chambers, ignoring Aemonds as he followed you.
Reaching your doors, you turned to face him, “You're to be betrothed to another woman, and yet you still follow me around like a lost little puppy, as if nothing has changed.” You shook your head, pushing the door open behind you.
“You're jealous?” he asked, smiling in victory.
“Jealous?” you said, turning around quickly. “Oh, you pathetic little thing.” You laughed, “You think I’m jealous of her? That I desire you even after everything?” Aemond swallowed roughly, following you into your chambers.
“I could have anyone, I have men begging for my hand, and you think that I would want someone-eyed prince for a husband?” you scoffed, walking further into your room, settling on your bed. You laughed, your eyes moving down his body as he prowled towards you, “You do? Don’t you?” Your hands reached to play with the neckline of your dress “Why would I marry you? hmm? What could I possibly gain?”
“We were friends, I love you,” he pleaded, his hand going to the growing tent in his crotch.
“Friends?” you scoffed, “you blamed me for loosing you eye, pushed me away,” you stood from the bed, standing face to face with Aemond, your hand reaching you grab his jaw, moving his face down to yours. “You were cruel,”
“I'm sorry,” he breathed, his mouth itching closer to yours.
“Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.”
He swallowed, stepping back and dropping to his knees.
“Please,” he begged, “forgive me, please…please, I'm sorry, please forgive me. I've only ever wanted to be worthy of you, to please you.”
“Good,” you whispered, moving behind him and pulling his head back, “now tell me how pathetic you are” Your hand moved to caress his neck, pulling his hair to the side as you joined him on the floor.
“I am so pathetic,” he near moan, “I am nothing without you,” he groaned, your mouth coming to his neck, placing a teasing kiss along the column of his neck.
“Keep going,”
“Without you, I am pathetic, nothing more than a one-eyed disgrace,” you nodded, sucking on his neck softly. “Kiss me,” you muttered, moving around to kneel in front of him.
The kiss was messy, desperate. Groans fell from him as your mouth met his. His hands reached to grip your face, only to fall away as your hands reached for his hair, yanking him back. “So eager”, you muttered, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.
“Please, he begged.
“Do you love me?” you asked, smirking as he looked at you, eye wide.
“More than anything, I want you to be my wife. ” His hands reached for you again, begging to touch you.
“Why would I want to marry you?”
“Because you love me,” Aemond stated, his breath heavy as he gaved up at you, desperate for you to admit it.
You faltered, your back straightening. Your hands came to grip his face, forcing his face closer to you,” You're not worthy of my love.”
“I am, please,” he breathed.
“Show me,” you placed a kiss on his lips, “show me your worthy of my love,”
“Yes, please, please,” he begged, his lips hovering over yours, begging for you to kiss him again. You huffed a laugh, your mouth taking his in a heated kiss. Your lips took his, your mouth dominating his in your heated kiss. Your tongue entered his mouth, your tongue dominating his, as your hands gripped his tunic, pulling him up with you and towards the bed.
You pulled back, breaking the kiss and pulling your dress and small clothes off with it, leaving you entirely bare before him as you crawled back onto your bed.
Aemond groaned at the sight, crawling towards you, placing desperate kisses from your ankles up to your thigh, waiting for your permission to place kisses on your inner thigh and towards your heat. His licks were slow at first, testing and tasting you and to see your reaction. A groan fell from him as moans began to spill from your lips. His mouth moved to your clit, his hands gripping your waist for leverage as he began to feast on your heat, his fingers teased at your entrance, his mouth focused on your clit as he began to finger you. A loud moan escaped you as he entered, your hand reaching to grip his hair, your legs wrapped around his head and pushing him further into you. His fingers began to fuck you, thrusting in and out of you at a testing pace, desperate to find a pace you liked.
Your back arching off the bed as his fingers began to curl into you, your hips bucking into his face, riding it as his fingers fucked you, his mouth sucking on your clit as you felt your high begin to wash over you. a loud moan escaping your mouth once again as you came. Your hand in his hair, tugging him away from you as you rode out your peak.
“Get on your back,” you commanded, pushing him onto the bed. Your hands reached for his breeches, practically ripping them from his body as his hands worked on his tunic.
Your eyes traced his body as you threw his clothes to the floor, your eyes gleaming with lust as you took in his naked form and his pulsing, hard cock.
Crawling over him, you took his mouth into a slow, deep kiss, your legs falling on either side of his head, one hand reaching for his cock and your other reaching behind you to steady yourself, as you slid it between your wet folds, before slowly easing down onto him, pushing his cock slowly into your heat. “Fuck,” you moaned, your head falling back as you eased down onto him.
His hands flew to your hips, steadying you as you took a deep breath, a moan falling from your lips as his cock stretched your walls, your hips rocking forward. Your head fell back as you began to bounce on his cock, setting a hard pace. Your peak was fast approaching, as you focused entirely on your pleasure, your moans filling the room as your peak began to wash over you.
You fell back breathless against the bed, your hands reaching for Aemond, pulling him over you and down for a bruising kiss. “Fuck me,” you commanded, your hand reaching to tug his hair.
His cock pushed into you slowly, his hips stuttering, pathetic moans falling from his lips as he thrusted in you, his eyes boring into yours as his own peak washed over you. He collapsed onto you, breathless and limp, his hands desperately clinging to you.
“Tell me you love me, please,” he pleaded, pressing desperate kisses to your face.
You sighed, playing with his hair, “No,”
A whimper fell from his lips, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer to him, whispering pleas into your skin.
You turned to face him, studying him closely, “I-” The door swung open, your father's loud steps echoing, and he brisked into the room.
“The fuck is this?” Daemon mumled, scowling at the sight of you and Aemond. A chuckle fell from him, his hands reaching for the pile of clothes on the floor and tossing them at you both, as he turned around “Fetch Rhaneyra,” he called, his eyes flickering to Aemond, his scowl deepening, “and the fucking queen,”
“Do you think they'll marry us?” Aemond whispered, a smile on his face as he pulled you back into him as you tried to move away, kissing every inch of you he could reach.
Your only response was a sigh and a smile; you tried desperately to fight the idea of wedding Aemond.
