Summary: The Dreaming once had a queen. Word around was that she was firm yet fair, worked with the people, and with dreams and nightmares alike. On the other hand the king himself, it is rumored, is not fond of his queen. No one knew why, all they were aware of was that she did what she could for them and their realm.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Sandman nor the characters. This piece will be 18+ minors DNI
Chapter 3: Divine Retribution I
Dream left her apartment feeling a deep sense of dissatisfaction that left him wrong-footed, though he would never admit it to anyone. His queen, his realm’s queen, is living in the waking passing as a mortal. A mute! Where her voice reached the expanse of the Dreaming soothing all who listened. She has been rendered mute…but why? He knows she can speak, he has witnessed it before, the question he has is what could have happened? He would confer with Lucienne when he returns to the Dreaming.
Back in the Dreaming, in the dredges that used to house the library, Matthew filled Lucienne in on his first meeting of their queen. To his surprise, he saw that she did not look at all surprised with the turn of events that happened when they met with her.
“Lord Morpheus has never been one to follow the tempest when it came to himself,” she began, a thoughtfully concerned look on her face, “When he was informed of being meant to someone, the harder he fought the tempest headed his way.”
“And what of the queen?” Matthew asked, no witty quip to alleviate the situation at the end. He had no clue where to proceed from here, Boss wasn’t one to do anything he didn’t want to, clearly, but there is more at stake here than just the Dream King’s tokens of power and the rebuilding of the realm.
Lucienne’s head dropped, a somber look taking over as she remembered her queen, “She was kind and fair. Her song stretched over the expanse of the dreaming soothing all who listened. Dream and Nightmare alike would sit and listen to her song and find a sense of peace they’d never known.”
“She tamed the nightmares!?” Matthew exclaimed in wonder.
Lucienne nodded thoughtfully and said, “Indeed she did. Through no will or want to dominate or control, she gave the realm something tangible that was both new and old at the same time. The dreamers also benefited from this, her songs acting like lullabies amplifying the dreams they would have or even alleviating a nightmare when needed. But for those who truly deserved that nightmare, the song would also amplify that nightmare.”
Matthew shivered at that last part, but was no less impressed with the power Neryssa held over the dreaming as one of the two monarchs of the realm. Which then brought up the question, “What happened to her then? When the boss and I went to her she did not say a word, none.”
Lucienne breathed a wistful sigh and said, “Things were said, not at all pleasant things, which then led to our queen’s songs becoming echoes in the realm.”
“And the boss?” he asked hesitantly.
“He sensed the shift but ultimately laid the blame somewhere else,” she said, her tone laced with disappointment.
“He blamed her, you mean,” Matthew stated, putting two and two together.
Lucienne gave the raven a pointed look but ultimately nodded.
“But why though?” Matthew asked, still clearly lost, “If her singing helped the realm prosper, why put a stop to it?”
“He did not do it because he believed it harmed the dreaming itself,” Lucienne said, tone hard, “He would never do anything at the expense of the Dreaming.”
Matthew nodded as well as he could as a raven and dropped the subject for now. Just in time as a very determined and clearly annoyed Dream Lord walked into the library.
“Welcome back my lord,” Lucienne said evenly, mentally preparing herself for what was to come.
The storm cloud that followed Dream into the library was palpable to all who caught sight of him. But the darkness that clung to him contained something other to it, something softer…sadder.
“She does not speak,” he quietly stated as he walked to stand by Lucienne, “She does not sing nor hum…nothing.”
Lucienne gave a tired sigh, “With all due respect, I do not know what it is you expected from her when you went to her.”
His gaze snapped to hers, eyes ablaze, “She is the queen. Her responsibilities are to the realm.”
“This is true,” Lucienne said neutrally, “She did as best she could for those that remained.”
“There were those who remained?” He asked in wonder.
“For a time yes,” Lucienne replied with a melancholic half smile, “They stayed for her.”
This left the Dream King speechless. He had expected his people to eventually accept her but it never occurred to her that she’d be so beloved by them. Had he neglected his duties as a king and husband so blatantly when it came to her that he turned a completely blind eye to her duties and all they entailed? Dream now was in a predicament, he had erred against his wife, his bonded and now is in a predicament he has no idea how to remedy.
“They stayed as long as she sang, as long as she was able to stay,” Lucienne said, adding more fuel to the fire that had ignited when it came to Neryssa, “But she was, and is not, the Dreaming. Eventually, the tempest took hold and she was forced to leave along with the remaining residents.”
Dream felt the sorrow take hold. Sorrow for his realm, his people, their queen. The last one being something deeper now that he saw what he had been doing to her.
“Then it is settled,” he said after a tense moment of consideration.
Lucienne and Matthew shared a look, unsure of where Dream was going with whatever it is that is “settled”.
“It has been brought to my attention, through different means, that I have been remiss in the care I should have been placing in the queen. And through these reasons, there is no doubt in my mind that she is the key which will return the realm to its former glory.”
“The fact that you realize your part in her leaving and all in between is good and all boss,” Matthew said carefully, beak in the air as if preparing for punishment, “But looked like she’d rather be anywhere but come back here.”
“She will for her people,” Dream stated, troubled expression clearing, as if that statement was obvious and all that was needed for her to come back.
“It is not that easy my lord,” Lucienne stated, voice firm, “She made it clear that she’d come when needed to fulfill her duties as queen. Once done, she would take her leave.”
“You must’ve felt when she’d come and go boss,” Matthew said, disbelief in his voice.
Lucienne spared Matthew a pointed look, one that told him enough. Their Lord made it a point to not notice his neglect of her coming full circle.
Dream drew a weary sigh and closed his eyes. For the first time in centuries he opened himself up fully to his realm. Even without his tools, the very foundations of the Dreaming responded to his call. And before long the echoes of her voice filled his mind. His face traveled through a myriad of emotions; peace, happiness, calm, anger before being sliced through with a sadness and longing he would have recognized had it not been for his own years of imprisonment. Is this what she felt while living in the realm? The chill adhered itself to his bones, the echoes of her songs were the one thing keeping him company in his cage. Her voice a hopeful lullaby filled with the promise of home. Only for him to come home and find that everything he had had slipped through his fingers. And worst of all he had no one else to blame but himself.
“What’s the plan then boss?” Asked Matthew curiously.
“Now I do my best to convince Queen Neryssa to return,” he stated, voice softer, “Even if only for the betterment of the realm, I must make amends.”
“Then you must court her,” Lucienne said knowingly, “Afterall your time of courtship was cut short the first time around.”
Dream nodded and left the shambled library, leaving a befuddled librarian and raven companion behind.
//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//-//
(Notes: Thanks for taking the time to read this everyone! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!! Tags are open too just leave a comment dm!)
Tag List: @snowtargaryen, @dontpulltohardman @starkleila @deniixlovezelda @obsessedwithfakeguys @rpfann @totallysocially
Hello, I am Lady Layla of the Lagoon and I am the Dreaming's scribe. Come and stay; listen carefully, and read thoroughly ₊ ˚ ⊹ ⋆
Meet me at the Lagoon under moonlight and good drinks ~
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Dream/Morpheus (The Sandman)
One Shot Masterlist
☾ Drabbles, thoughts, requests galore!
26 Ways of Taking You (18+)
☾ 26 Worlds, 26 ways of pleasure
Lady Luck Is Smiling
☾ When the Fates leave Morpheus' call unanswered, he gains insight into another goddess that may be able to help regain his lost tools. Lady Luck, as you go by now as opposed to Fortuna nor Tyche, is the second youngest of the Four Ladies. Morpheus is determined to learn how and what makes you smile, for your smile will allow luck to be on his side, and with any of it, will he find his tools.
Destined Dreams of Love
☾ As no stranger to arranged marriages, your parents excitedly marry you off to the king at his request. He is contradictory, cold yet caring, strict yet liberating, it's all too much! He said he could never love another for reasons you do not understand either, didn't he just meet you? Perhaps in time, you can learn to love him, too.
Expectation Subversions
☾The Prince of Stories and his unbridled ability to avoid all possible clichés.
A Pirate Queen For Me
☾ Captain Fortune, pirate queen of the seven seas. What adventures will you lead aboard your ship?
Summary: Aemond makes the decision to save the one he loves over his brother.
Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and is in a secret relationship with Aemond
WC: 1.5 K
Tumblr is a piece of shit that deleted the request but to whoever sent this, hope you enjoy xx
~~
The screams of men below were almost inaudible over the roar of her dragon. She felt powerful, she felt vindictive, a smug satisfaction washing over her as she decimated the Green army below, the traitors who dared to usurp her mother.
Yet her heart was aching.
Her eyes scanned the skyline, nervously awaiting Vhagar’s presence, awaiting his presence.
Her throat tightened and she blinked rapidly to stave off the tears that threatened to fall. She’d cried enough tears over him, over the divide that wedged between them, threatening to break them apart completely. She had to be done.
A trill made her perk up, looking over her shoulder, her eyes wide, her chest aching, but as she caught sight of the smaller, gold dragon headed her way, her devastation soon turned to anger.
Aegon.
Her face shifted, her agony now hatred. Her teeth grit with effort as she pulled at the reins, swooping dangerously close to the soldiers below her, a smirk painting her lips at their cries of terror.
“Vermithor… attack.”
The dragon below her roared, a mighty sound that shook the bones of those who watched from below.
She distantly heard Aegon’s call and held onto the handles of the saddle in a white-knuckled grip as she swerved out of the way of the stream of fire Sunfyre spat at her. She winced, flinching away from the barrage of flames that met her too closely.
The dragons fought a vicious and bloody fight, Vermithor’s talons tearing Sunfyre across her belly, her cries echoing, shaking the ground below.
Over her dragon’s head that now had the other poor dragon’s neck in his jaws, she met Aegon’s eyes, her gaze alight with hateful glee as she noticed the fear in his eyes.
But suddenly, his expression shifted, a smile growing as he breathed out in relief.
Turning, she saw the enormous figure of Vhagar looming forward, like a killer stalking its prey, ready to devour her with ease.
Her heart dropped, the grip on the reins slipping from her hands, as if she already accepted her fate.
Swallowing against the lump in her throat that grew, she closed her eyes, refusing to see the look on her lover’s face as he ended her.
~~
They met in the dead of night, as they always had, meeting on a nondescript island halfway between Dragonstone and King’s Landing.
He was already waiting for her as she descended from the skies, landing Vermithor beside the hulking figure of Vhagar.
He was approaching her before she could unsaddle herself.
His hands were on her before her feet met the ground.
She was brought into his arms before she could say a word. She embraced him as she always did, desperately, as if it would be their last. With the state of their families, it might just be.
“Are you alright?” She asked worriedly as she pulled out of his arms, her eyes frantically searching for his face, finding only despair.
“You cannot go tomorrow.” He told her swiftly.
“What-”
“They commanded me to take Vhagar to Rook’s Rest.”
Her face remained impassive as she took in his words, though the storm that raged within her was devastating, shattering every ounce of hopeful excitement she’d felt when she received his raven to meet her that night.
“Aemond, I-”
“You cannot go. Please.” He begged her.
Her gaze met his and the frantic desperation she saw in his lone eye stirred sadness within her, the divide between their families that had slowly been tearing them apart delivering another fatal blow.
“I have to. You know I have to.” She answered quietly, mournfully, as if she was already accepting her fate. She couldn’t fight Vhagar, she couldn’t win against him.
He cursed and took a step away from her, placing his hand over his mouth as he tried hard to rein in his anger, his fear of what would happen to her, to them, as they met on the battlefield.
They always knew it would happen eventually, but it didn’t mean they were ready for it. They had been content to live in a fantasy together, as if they could pretend they weren’t living their reality, that they could’ve lived a happy life together.
He stepped towards her again, taking her face in his hands.
“Please, you cannot- I cannot-” He stammered and let out a shaking breath, his tortured gaze locked on hers. “Love, please, don’t go.”
“We always knew this would happen.”
His anger flared at the resolution he heard in her voice, at how quickly she was willing to accept this, that they were to meet on the battlefield, with only one of them returning victorious. He couldn’t accept it, he wouldn’t.
He shook his head wordlessly, his brows furrowed as if in pain. Her arms wrapped around him and he was quick to return the hug, holding her to him tightly. He let out a shaking breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he held her, silently praying it wouldn’t be for the last time.
“We should’ve left while we still had the chance.” She spoke with a small laugh that held nothing but sadness. Aemond nodded, his hands gripping her firmer, his thoughts a mirage of what their life would be if he had taken her up on her offer to escape to Essos all those years ago.
He desperately wished he had agreed.
“Whatever happens tomorrow-”
“Don’t.” He begged, his heart already aching at the thought of what they would face.
“Whatever happens,” She repeated more sternly as she looked at him intently. “It won’t change what we have. Nothing will change how I feel about you, even if I cannot feel anything at all.”
He practically shuddered at the thought, the mere notion of losing her too much to fathom and bowed his head until his forehead met hers, their shaking breaths shared.
“I’ll love you even after the end.”
He couldn’t hear any more. He kissed her firmly, pouring every bit of love he had for her and had felt for her for years into every caress of his lips, every tantalizing swipe of his tongue, every heated touch that he bestowed onto her beautiful body he had worshiped in secret.
~~
I’ll love you even after the end
The words echoed in his mind all night. As he left her side to return to King’s Landing before the son rose, they wouldn’t leave his head, torturing him over and over again, until he felt as though he couldn’t take another breath.
Now, as he sat atop Vhagar, eyeing the battle in the skies above with bated breath, he knew he had only one choice to make.
A choice that came all too easily, a choice he would make again each and every time.
He commanded Vhagar to fly, her large frame taking to the skies slowly, his eye locked onto Vermithor, his heart in his throat as he saw her small frame duck out of the way just in time before Sunfyre’s jaws locked onto her.
He felt nothing but relief as Vermithor trapped Aegon’s dragon in his jaws, he felt nothing as his brother’s dragon cried out in pain.
But the blinding rage he felt as he watched Sunfyre swiped her claws against Vermithor’s face, dangerously close to her, made his blood boil.
His hands clenched, his jaw tight, his lone eye dark with resolve as he soon accepted the consequences he would face, the judgment the Gods would place on him.
But he didn’t care. He would slay his brother if it meant she lived. He would slay millions to save her, without thought.
“Dracarys!” He yelled, his eye remaining on Aegon who tried to shield himself from the flames that descended upon him. He grunted as Vhagar crashed against Vermithor, harshly nudging the dragon out of the way, Vermithor growling menacingly at Vhagar, before jerking to the side, her command of the reins forcing her dragon not to engage.
He watched, his heart racing, as she flew away from the scene, away from Aegon as he fell alongside Sunfyre’s broken and burning body.
He paid little mind to anything else and followed after her. They flew for a few minutes, away from the chaos of battle, away from any prying eyes that would reveal their secret.
He descended just a second after her, landing Vhagar next to Vermithor, his hands shaking as he undid his ties, jumping down his dragon’s frame unsteadily.
“What the fuck was that?!” She yelled as she stomped towards him, tears in her eyes, unsure of what to make of the emotions overwhelming her. “Do you know what you have just done?”
He ignored her yells and grabbed her hands, pulling her to him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. She squirmed in his grip for a moment, her adrenaline still thrumming through her veins, before finally giving in as she felt him shaking against her.
She let out a trembling breath, her arms coming up to wind around him. She let her eyes fall closed as his hand rested on the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair.
“What did you do?” She asked wearily, her voice hoarse and weak with exhaustion.
Am I the only one who hates the way Ewan's team is dressing him? like what the hell are with these looks. I mean, I sure as hell don't know much about fashion, but why?
She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.
From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03
Let me know what you think!
Masterlist A03
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
“Why are you bringing so much?”
Aelinor turned to look at Luc as he entered the courtyard of Dragonstone, where she was strapping a large bundle to the back of Darax’s saddle. “They’re clothes.” She said simply, tightening the strap again. The flight to King’s Landing should be uneventful, but she didn’t want to lose anything.
“I thought you sent trunks on ahead with Mother and the ship?” He asked. “Why do you need more? We’re just flying into the Dragon Pit after all.”
She cleared her throat. “I just want to appear at the Red Keep looking my best.”
“But you look fine in your—”
“She means,” Jace strode into the courtyard, Vermax walking slowly behind him. “That she wants to look pretty for Aemond.”
“Jace!” Aelinor protested, running a hand down Darrax’s flank. It was a good thing that their dragons had grown in proximity to each other, but they were all getting a bit nervous in the small courtyard. Things would turn disastrous if one of her brother’s dragons chose to challenge Darrax in such close quarters.
“Don’t say such foolish things,” she scolded her brother again, turning away so that he couldn’t see the red tinge to her cheeks.
“Isn’t it?” He smirked. “Careful, Sister. I might grow jealous seeing my betrothed prettying herself up for someone else.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re a terrible liar,” he teased. She could have thrown something at him, if the levity in his gaze didn’t give away that he was truly, only joking. Jace and her would never suit as husband and wife, but they had certainly grown to be friends.
She settled on rolling her eyes, turning to face her more tolerable brother. “I’ll see you at King’s Landing. Safe flight, everyone.”
With a sharp word to Darrax, the dragon rolled his shoulder down, allowing her to climb into the saddle and adjust the straps around her legs with practiced motions.
“See you later, Lina!” Luc waved cheerfully.
She nodded back. “ Soves, Darrax .”
He didn’t need any more encouragement than that. Both Luc and Jace scrambled back as he spread his massive wings and within seconds took to the sky. They coasted over the island quickly, and before long were heading across the bay, Darrax dipping low enough to let his tail skim the water.
Aelinor coaxed him higher, not wanting to risk ruining all of her packed clothes with sea spray.
Gods, she adored flying. It seemed to be the only time that she could be truly alone with her thoughts.
Jace wasn’t wrong, she had packed a change of clothes so that she might look somewhat presentable when she saw Aemond again. Which was stupid of her, she knew. If the Aemond she knew had not changed, he surely wouldn’t care whether she showed up dressed like a queen or in sweaty flying leathers with her hair all a-muss. And if he had changed….then he might not be her Aemond anymore. He was a prince, after all, and he probably had a hundred ladies fawning over him. Why would he waste a second on his childhood friend? And why did that idea of that sting so very much?
No, Aelinor caught herself before she spiraled too deeply. The clothes were so that she might make a good impression on the court. She told herself that they weren’t for Aemond. They were for her mother, for Luc, and even for Jace’s own succession. If ser Vaemond were successful in challenging Luc’s claim, they would all be at risk. The least she could do was make sure that she looked her best and did her part.
Setting the reins against the saddle, Aelinor used her good hand to adjust her gloves. The sea spray wasn’t warm, and the cold always caused such an uncomfortable ache in her bad hand. Once her gloves were set, she retook the reins, thankful that Darrax was steady and reliable enough for her to make such necessary adjustments. How many years ago had it been when she had insisted that she would never be able to fly, with Aemond arguing with her all the way. As it turned out, he had been right. She had just needed to have more faith in herself and in Darrax.
They soared over the royal ship, and she urged Darrax to fly further ahead. Her mother was too pregnant to fly, and so the ship carrying her, Prince Daemon, the younger children and Rhaena had left early in the morning. It was little effort for Darrax to overtake them, and she knew she would easily beat her entire family to King’s Landing.
“Prince Aemond!”
He whipped his head around, not at all surprised when he found Ser Criston striding toward him. That damned knight made it his business to supervise all of the royal children, and it seemed that Aemond had yet to outgrow his meddling.
“What is it, Cole?” Aemond reluctantly marked his place in his book. Legends of Old Valyria . It had been many years since he had read it, but he remembered that the stories inside were among Aelinor’s favourites, and he wanted to brush up.
“We have received word from the dragon keepers,” Cole came to a stop in front of him. “The first of the Princess’ children have appeared. They are waiting on all of them to arrive before they take the carriage to the Keep.”
“Thank you for keeping me informed.” Why should he care if Prince Jacaerys arrived before his siblings? He had probably flown ahead just because he could. In all honesty, there had been very little news from Dragonstone regarding the dragons. He knew that Lin—that Aelinor was flying, as her saddle had been specifically made for her at King’s Landing, but no one knew which of their dragons were the fastest, strongest or largest. It mattered little, as he had Vhagar, who was the strongest of them all.
“Your mother, The Queen, wished to know if you would receive them upon their arrival. They should all be arriving together, Princess Rhaenyra and her children both.”
Curious that his mother didn’t intend on receiving the heir to the throne, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to think about the implications.
He slammed his book shut. “I won’t be receiving them. Come, we must train. My mother can entertain our guests.” He grabbed his sword from where it rested on the table in the library, and marched out.
Was he being childish? Most likely. But he did not think he had the strength to stand there and watch Jace hand Aelinor out of the carriage. He did not want to see them stand next to each other, to feign politeness as that bastard stood in front of him and shattered every dream he had ever had. The dreams might be already broken, but at least he could let the glass fall gently.
Everything was exactly as she had remembered it. The dragon keepers, Darrax’s stall (though he had outgrown it), and even the slightly bitter tinge to the air the moment she stepped out of the Dragonpit. The stench of King’s Landing was almost overpowering, but it still smelled like home.
It took several hours for her brothers to arrive, lending proof to her theory that boys could never manage to do anything on time, and she took that time to change and make herself comfortable in the provided carriage. By the time they stepped inside, looking travel worn and weary, she was feeling much better about her choice to bring a change of clothes.
“You look nice,” Luc had said.
“Who’d you put that on for?” Jace teased. She had punched him in the arm for that.
But soon enough they had rolled through the gates of the Red Keep, only a few minutes ahead of their mother, and found no one there to receive them. Rhaenyra had scoffed, granting each of her three eldest a kiss on their cheeks before dismissing them while she went to greet the King and Queen. Aelinor was grateful to not be part of that conversation.
She did hope for a chance to see her grandfather before the feast in a few days, but she wasn’t sure she could brave the pressure of a formal reception.
The children (if they could even be called that anymore) were left to explore the castle. Jace and Luc rushed ahead, anxious to see the training yard from when they were young, but Aelinor lingered in the corridors, taking in the changes that had been made. She supposed things were bound to feel different, as she was much older than she had been, but there were many changes to the Keep.
Statues of the Seven decorated the halls where before there had been relics of Old Valyria, and many of the murals of risque artwork, which she had giggled over many a time, had been replaced with more modest, spiritual imagery.
She couldn’t help but wonder what Aemond thought of it all. To her it seemed a great and upsetting change, but what had it been like for him? To see the histories and stories he had grown up loving slowly stripped away?
People stopped and stared as she passed, but she did not let it bother her. Taking the time to smile at the few faces she recognized she watched as it dawned on them who exactly she was. Perhaps it had not been widely publicized that they were coming to court. She was once again glad for her decision to change.
The dress was not ornate — few of hers were — but the deep blue velvet and long white sleeves that flowed past her wrist did convey a certain stateliness. And they hid her hand, which probably added to the mystery. The wide neckline, which dipped low enough to display some of her cleavage and wide enough to hang tauntingly off her shoulders, was the closest she could come to emulating the fashions she remembered of the court. But now, she saw that fashions were much more modest, and it didn’t take much to realize who was responsible for that.
“Princess Aelinor!” Ser Harrald’s familiar face appeared in front of her, pulling her away from a stained glass piece of the Mother and the Maiden. He looked a few years older, perhaps, but she was just as happy to see him as when she was a girl.
The last time she had seen him, he had been carrying her away from Aemond as he screamed on the ground, blood pouring from his eye.
Shaking the horrible memory from her head, she decided to ignore the many courtiers surrounding them and stood on her tiptoes to wrap the man in a hug. “It is so nice to see you, Ser Harrald.”
“And you, Princess,” he gave a polite squeeze, and then took a step back. “You have grown up absolutely beautifully if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“Thank you, Ser,” she smiled. “It seems much has changed since I was last here.”
“Not as much as you would expect,” he said knowingly.
Aelinor laughed, not quite willing to think of all the possible implications of his statement. “As it is, I must find my brothers. I don’t suppose you’ve seen them, have you?”
Ser Harral smiled. “As I said, Princess. Not much has changed. Most of the action takes place in the training yard, and that is just at the south end of this corridor.”
“Thank you, Ser,” Aelinor nodded. “I will see you later, I hope.”
“As do I.”
With a proper, deep bow, he continued down the hall in the direction she had come from, his white cloak billowing behind him. Now in a much better mood than she had been when she stepped into these uncertain halls, Aelinor hurried toward the training yard. She would collect her brothers, force them to go and clean up, and then they would have time to relax a bit from their journey.
Briefly, the thought that Aemond might be there crossed her mind. Probably not, as he had never enjoyed training, choosing to do the bare minimum out of obligation more than anything else, and she couldn’t imagine him choosing to spend time there of his own choice. But she couldn’t quite squash the butterflies that were fluttering in her stomach.
Things were coming back to her as she stepped through the door into the training yard, recognizing the mud-covered mat used for brushing one’s boots off, even the walkways above the yard usually covered in mud. But when she looked up to survey the yard, she was surprised to find it completely silent. There was no clanging of metal, or the duller impact of the wooden practice blades. No playful yelling or bellowed instructions from knights training their squires.
She quickly saw the reason why. She had just reached the top of the stairs when she caught sight of Ser Vaemond striding across the yard, heading straight for her, a gaggle of servants and guards trailing behind him. It seemed that the crowd in the training yard had fallen silent at his arrival.
Aelinor stepped to the side when he reached the top, offering a demure curtsy. “Ser Vaemond. It has been a long time.”
“Indeed, Princess,” Ser Vaemond gave her an appraising look. “Indeed.”
“I would have expected you to arrive well before us, as it is your petition we are here to witness, after all.”
“Don’t pretend there is any propriety in this farce.” Ser Vaemond scoffed.
Aelinor glanced up, narrowing her eyes. “We are here to hear the King’s justice, grand-uncle. Sure it is too soon to call any of this a farce.”
Ser Vaemond laughed then, and she was reminded of that day at Driftmark, when he had used her aunt’s death as a chance to taunt her and her brothers. “I wouldn’t be so quick to call it justice. Not when you will soon have to face the truth of this.”
Aelinor gave him a polite smile. “And yet, it was not our company who saw fit to arrive through the back door.”
She didn’t offer him another curtsy as he strode by her, ignoring her words. A tiny inkling of pride made her stand a bit straighter. Surely, if that was the first test of this whole affair, she had proven that she could do her part.
Forcing her face back into a pleasant expression, she marched down the stairs, spotting her brothers right away, next to a large crowd of gathered people.
“Jacaerys! Lucerys!” She called, hurrying out onto the ground, the hem of her skirt dragging through the mud. She sent up a silent prayer for forgiveness from whichever maid had to clean the filth from the velvet. Both boys turned to look at her, away from whatever was happening at the center of the circle. And Jace…he looked unsettled.
Coming to a stop in front of them, she tried for a comforting grin, aware of the eyes on them. It was hardly a surprise that they were on edge after Ser Vaemond’s dramatic arrival. “Come on, we need to go clean up.”
“Lina?”
There it was. That voice that she had imagined a thousand times since she had last heard it. He sounded so different, his voice older and deeper and more serious than she remembered, though how she had gleaned all that from a single word was beyond her. But it didn’t matter, because it was still his .
And there he was, standing at the center of the circle, a sword in his hand, a patch on his eye, his long silver hair tied back. Aemond . He was tall, taller than she had imagined, which only seemed unfair given how he was also more perfect and handsome than she could have envisioned.
He was staring straight at her, his mouth hanging open, chest heaving, as though he had just finished a bout and hadn’t quite caught his breath.
Aelinor was suddenly overcome with a sense of embarrassment. She looked…she should have picked a different dress. Oh, why did their first meeting in nine years have to be after she’d gone tramping through the mud, calling after her brother’s like an idiot? Had she even brushed her hair?
Luckily, Jace must have seen the panic on her face, for he quickly grabbed her wrist, gave a quick nod to Aemond that she didn’t fully understand, and pulled her away.
“Compose yourself, Aelinor,” he whispered in her ear as they rushed back up the steps, Luc close behind them. “Or this will be a very awkward week.
Still, Aelinor turned to look over her shoulder. The crowd had moved on from whatever they had been watching, no longer interested in the long-lost princes or princess.
But Aemond hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, his eye fixed on her.
Still trembling, Aelinor gave him a small smile, as much as she could muster.
And Aemond smiled back.
Gods she was beautiful.
Aemond felt like an idiot. After nearly ten years of waiting, of holding his breath for the moment he would get to see her again, and instead, he’d been dumbstruck like an idiot. Because Lina….Lina was beautiful .
She’d always been pretty, of course, and he had thought that from the first moment that he saw her. But she had stood in front of him, a woman grown, with her silver hair falling in loose waves past her hips, lilac eyes shining as she searched for her brothers in the crowd, and he realized that without a doubt, Aelinor was the most beautiful woman in the world.
But then she had seen him, seen what he had become, covered in sweat and grime from hours spent training, his eyepatch and the scar that crept out from behind it, and she had run. Not only had she run, but that bastard Jacaerys had been holding her hand. Seeing them together, Aemond was even more convinced that they were not a good match. He might not deserve Aelinor, but for Jacaerys to even think of touching her…it made his skin crawl.
Tossing his sword aside, ignoring Ser Criston’s cry, Aemond hurried after his niece and nephews, entirely unsure of what he was doing.
“Gods, Aelinor, your face was hilarious,” Luc was laughing as they strolled through the halls. “I’ve never seen your eyes so wide.”
“Shut up,” Aelinor flushed. “It was just a surprise to see him.”
“Here? In his own home?” Jace rolled his eyes, his hand still locked around her wrist. “Or was it the eyepatch? I admit, the wound was more hideous than I had expected it to be. But I suppose something like that will never truly heal.”
“Of course not!” Aelinor shook him off, annoyed. “It was just…a surprise.” What could she say? That she had been dumbstruck by how unbelievably handsome Aemond was? Her brothers would never let her live it down.
“Wekk, I hope you get a handle on it for tomorrow,” Jace gave her a wry grin, clearly exasperated by how poorly she was hiding her true feelings. “We need to appear strong and united.”
“Of course we do, and we will,” Aelinor reached out to squeeze Luc’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Luc. We’ll get everything sorted out.”
“I hope so, because I—” Luc stared over her shoulder, his eyes widening. “Umm…Aelinor?”
“What are you…”
“Aelinor!” Aemond’s voice called from behind her, tone sharp and unforgiving. It sent a thrill rushing through her veins. “Wait!”
“We have somewhere to be, Prince Aemond,” Jace said quickly, reaching again for her elbow. “Forgive us if—”
“I wish to speak to Aelinor,” Aemond repeated, and Aelinor felt his presence like a magnetic force as he came to a stop behind her. She shouldn’t have turned, but as soon as she did, finding him only a few feet away from her, slightly out of breath and staring at her with unsettling intensity, she knew that nothing in the world could have moved her from that place.
“Aelinor?” Jace whispered.
She cleared her throat, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, Jace. I’ll catch up with you all later.”
He didn’t look convinced, but Luc poked him in the back, urging him away and down the corridor.
Aelinor turned back to Aemond slowly, her hands knotting in the sleeves of her dress. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do?
“I’m sorry about back there,” Aemond said quickly, almost tripping over the words as he rushed to get them out.
“Back there?” Her thoughts felt like soup, all rational thought lost in the overwhelming sensation of Aemond .
“In the courtyard. With my—” He gestured to his face, leaving Aelinor even more confused. “I know it can be quite…jarring and I…” he trailed off.
Aelinor just stared at him.
Aemond had no idea what he was doing. He’d rushed after her, so determined not to let her slip away and refusing to let her be swept away by her brother and then…and then what? As soon as she’d turned to look at him, all he could remember was how pale she had become in the courtyard. When she saw his scar. And now he was stumbling like a fool as he tried to apologize, and she stared at him like he was the world’s greatest fool.
“It’s ugly, I know…” He was still talking, wishing that he had the self-control to silence himself. “But the patch makes it more bearable and you won’t have to see—”
Aelinor slammed into him, nearly knocking her backward with the force of her hug.
“What are you talking about, you fool?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly. “Ten years, and all you can do is apologize for your eye?”
Aemond choked on the words, trying to find something to say. Aelinor was embracing him. How many times in the past years had he imagined this exact moment? Each time he had convinced himself that it would never happen, not when she was…well her …and he looked the way he did.
And not it took every ounce of his willpower to lift his arms and wrap them around her waist, resisting the urge to hold her so tightly and lift her off the ground.
But she was hugging him, and when she pulled away, there was a brilliant smile on her face.
“You look very roguish,” she declared. “Like a pirate.”
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” He smiled thinking back to that day when they had said goodbye. When she had been the first person to make him feel that perhaps things weren’t so bleak after all. Before she had left, and he’d learned just how bleak the world could be.
A shadow passed over her face. “I never wanted you to get hurt.”
“I know—”
“I just wanted you to know that it would never have changed how I felt about you.” She coughed. “Then or…or now.”
As she spoke, she was moving back to a safe, court-appropriate distance. That fleeting, perfect moment was already cursing himself for not taking the chance to hold her more tightly. For a few precious seconds, it had felt as though nothing had changed. He had been her Aemond again.
But things weren’t the same, were they? He knew that better than anyone, when he spent his days listening to his mother and grandfather as they quietly connived to secure Aegon’s place on the throne. They subtly spread their poison about his half-sister and her pack of bastards, of which Aelinor was one.
And she wasn’t Lina anymore. She was Aelinor. A woman. A beautiful, ethereal woman, and even if she could embrace him like no time at all had passed, everything was different now.
“You come to support your brother’s claim?” Aemond found the most neutral topic he could think of, one that wouldn’t set his heart pounding.
Aelinor took a deep breath, as if composing herself, and then nodded. “At the request of my mother and my…Prince Daemon. And for Luc, of course. He may be a rascal, but I am fond of him.”
This surprised Aemond. “I can remember having to fight him off when he was trying to pull your hair out. Forgive me if I am skeptical.”
“Yes, well,” Aelinor chuckled. “He has matured. Slightly. The same cannot be said of Jace.”
The mention of her elder brother instantly soured Aemond’s mood. He didn’t want to talk about her betrothed, he didn’t want to even think about it. Only minutes before, Jace had been leading Aelinor away from him by the arm, a sight he would not soon forget.
But she had embraced him, and that….that couldn’t count for nothing.
“I imagine things are going to get a bit hectic over the next few days, wouldn’t you say?” Aelinor asked. “Before the petition?”
“I would imagine so,” Aemond agreed, both of them fully aware of what they meant. Whatever farce might be put on at the ball the next day, tensions were still bound to boil over. It was inevitable that they would be drawn into it.
A crowd of tittering ladies strolled by, stopping to bob curtsies to the familiar prince. Each of them carefully avoided looking him in the eye. It irked him more than usual, an irrational worry flooding him that perhaps Aelinor would see how the ladies of court feared him, and realize that she should do the same.
“Is there something interesting about the floor?” Aelinor’s tone was light, almost teasing. “I admit that much has changed since I was last here, but I find the floor tiles about the same.”
Everyone’s gaze darted to her, and Aemond was shocked to see a tight smile on her face. Her tone might have been in jest, but there was nothing humorous to be found in the harsh glare of her eyes as she studied the other woman.
“My lady?” One lady said, her eyes darting about, looking for an escape. Aemond thought he might have been introduced to her at one time, but couldn’t be bothered to remember her name.
“ Princess Aelinor ,” he bit out, the ladies all cowering back a step.
“Apologies, Princess Aelinor,” the ladies all curtsied quickly. “I beg your forgiveness.”
Aelinor waved her hand. “None needed. So long as you can tell me why you are studying the floor with such devotion.”
The ladies gaped at her.
“Because,” Aelinor continued. “Some might find it disrespectful, to refuse to meet the eye of their Prince.” Her voice was still light, but Aemond felt the chill she directed at the women.
They all floundered, speaking over each other. Aelinor sighed, almost in boredom.
“Leave,” he barked at the other women. “You have bothered the Princess long enough.”
They practically ran down the halls, nearly tripping over their skirts.
“The entire Keep will tremble in your wake by tomorrow.” He said to Aelinor.
She sighed. “I hope not. I just…” she looked up at him. “Are they all like that?”
“Most of them,” he nodded. “Though I confess, they got marginally better when Aegon and Helaena married and I became the only option. They tend to leave me alone now.”
She furrowed her brow. “Well, then they are idiots. I knew there was a reason you and Helaena were the only people I ever liked.”
Aemond swallowed, unsure what to say to that.
“Walk with me, Aemond,” Aelinor took his arm, not waiting for him to offer it, and began to lead him down the hall at a leisurely pace. He internally grimaced when he realized that her beautiful dress was pressing against his sweaty training shirt, but that worry was quickly overshadowed by a much more pressing concern. Aelinor was touching him. If he angled his body slightly, her side would have pressed into him. How was he meant to maintain composure, when she was so damn close.
“You’re very tense,” Aelinor noted.
“I…” What was he supposed to say? I’m tense because this is the closest I’ve ever been to a woman, and closer than I ever thought I would be to you. “I am sore from training.”
She frowned at that. “Cole works you too hard. I never liked him.”
“From the sound of it, there are very few people you do like.”
“True enough,” she smiled at him, squeezing his elbow with her hand. “I like Jace occasionally, Luc most of the time. Helaena of course. And then, I like absolutely. Everyone else is simply irrelevant.”
It might have sounded callous if anyone were to overhear, and it could hardly be taken as a surprise. Why shouldn’t a spoiled princess hate everyone around her, except for her favourite toys? But Aemond knew exactly what she meant, for he often found himself feeling the same way. Though there were many people and things in his life that he knew on some level he cared for, they all faded into the background when it came to Aelinor. Even in the years they had been apart, all it would take was for him to think of her, and his entire perspective on a situation could change. His favourite horse was a white stallion because it was what the hero rode in the stories he had told her when she was a girl (when the heroes weren’t riding dragons). He had been presented with over twenty horses to choose from, but as soon as that thought of Aelinor had entered his mind, no other horse would do.
He could never bring himself to indulge in his cups the way his brother did, always remembering the sour look on Lina’s face when she had supped wine for the first time.
Gods above, there was a sapphire embedded in his skull, because she had suggested that it would look pretty.
“What of your parents?” He asked. “Surely you must hold some love for them if you followed them here.”
It was a thinly veiled attempt to bait her, and Aelinor knew it. “I love my mother dearly, of course, though we have never quite understood each other. I imagine that is the way with most mothers and daughters.”
True enough. Aemond knew all too well that his own mother struggled to understand Helaena, though he doubted there was any actual effort applied.
“And Prince Daemon…” Aelinor sighed, and Aemond noticed that she did not call him father . “My mother loves him, and so that is enough. It does not make me any more eager to spend a few weeks cooped up in the Keep with them, conspiring against the Hand and his…” She trailed off, shooting him a nervous look. “Forget I said that.”
It was already forgotten, but Aemond nodded anyway. There was no contest between his reluctant tolerance of his mother’s father and the esteem he held for Aelinor.
“You must help me escape, Aemond,” Aelinor smiled up at him. “I don’t care if we go flying, or if we’re hiding in the stables, but I must have a reprieve from all this.”
This was…this was almost too familiar. How many times in their youth had she grabbed him by the arm, begging him to help her escape from her lessons or luncheons? He had never once, in all that time, failed to oblige.
He stopped suddenly, an idea winking into existence. “Then let me give you dinner. This evening. Just the two of us.”
“Dinner?” Aelinor tilted her head. “Where?” The many times they had eaten together in the past had almost always been in the confines of one of their chambers when they were but children. But they were no longer children, and family loyalties aside, it would be grossly improper for a young man and a woman to dine privately in closed rooms.
“My father’s library,” He named the first place he could think of that could offer some degree of privacy without ruining their reputation. The King was too ill to make use of it, and neither his siblings nor his mother ever ventured there. “You can be free of your family for an evening, I can be free of mine, and we can regale each other with tales of our brilliant exploits.”
He tried not to think about how their families might perceive this plan. Of what Jacaerys might think to find Aemond dining with his betrothed. But Aelinor didn’t look the least bit bothered by it, and that gave him a shred of hope. He intended to grasp onto every second of Aelinor that he could before she was swept away from him.
Aelinor was grinning. “You do make a very tempting offer.”
“There will be lemon tarts,” he added quickly. “And all your favourites.” He hoped the cook was skilled enough to make angel cakes with berry sauce before that evening.
“Ah well, then I cannot refuse,” Aelinor dropped his arm and gave a small smile. “I shall see you then. At sundown?”
Aemond gave a jerky nod, halfway between a bow and a friendly farewell. Aelinor just smiled wider.
“And Aemond?” She called, still walking away.
“Yes, Lin—” He cleared his throat. “Yes, Princess?” He couldn’t go shouting her given name in a public corridor, never mind that there didn’t seem to be anyone around to hear it.
“I have no need of lemon tarts. Bring yourself, for that is all I need.”
He stared at her until she faded from view, her skirts swishing as she disappeared around a corner.
I just saw an article from screenrant about a modern supernatural recast. It ended 3 fucking years ago bitches. Not to mention the fans would never forsake the OG. So fuck you and your horrible remake ass butts.
Watching supernatural again cause I love it and got nothing else going on. On season 9 and every single time I can't get over what a whiny little bitch sam is. And not just this season but every season.
Can anyone please point me to some Gabriel fanfiction. I see a lot of sabriel but I kinda just want Gabe and I'm having a hell of a time finding some. Reather they're on here or AO3 or Wattpad I don't care I just want some good Gabriel stories to read.
I did a full supernatural rewatch and now I that I've finished it I don't know what to do with myself. I feel a hole in my life now and don't know what to fill it with.
summary: “she is pregnant.” his queen mother’s palm slams heavily down on the dark council table, loud as a thunderclap. “she is pregnant! aemond!”
warnings: explicit language. angst. protective!aemond being a hot hypocrite and defending his bastard. fluff towards the end. i can't make alicent a villain in this, i just can't (sorry not sorry).
notes: a lot of ppl requested alicent's reaction to handmaid getting pregnant, so here it is.
his handmaid's tales | main masterlist
“She is pregnant.”
His queen mother’s palm slams heavily down on the dark council table, loud as a thunderclap. “She is pregnant! Aemond!” and her voice only loudens, “I brought her for you to have as your handmaid, not your bedmate! Seven hells, Aemond! She was not meant to be your personal whore to toy around with whenever you felt bored!”
Aemond feels his lips slightly twitch at her words. “She is not a whore, mother, nor will I stand here and allow for you to insult her.”
“AEMOND!”
The other councilors remain silent, doing their finest in pretending that they were somewhere else. Aemond knows he would have none of their support or backing in this- he is alone in defending his beloved handmaid and their child. Gods give me peace. Two moons back, Lord Tyland Lannister offered up his niece as a wife. Now he sits with his hands wringed together, shaking his head and sneaking him a scowl. He could only imagine the lord’s thoughts of him.
No doubt they’d all be ill-pleasant.
His mother sighs. “Might it be too late to sneak her the moon tea, Grand Maester?” she asks.
“I would say so, your Grace.” Grand Maester Orwyle clears his throat. “The handmaid, she is already a month or so pregnant, mayhap even two. You could give her the tea, but it might risk harm on both the mother and babe, perhaps even an unsavory death…”
“Death...?” Aemond repeats, aghast.
Her face falls into her hands, and she heaves a deep breath before glancing around the council table. The men all shift uncomfortably.
“Might you consider sending her away, my Queen?” Lord Tyland proposes with a sly smile. “Perhaps back home?”
Aemond’s head quickly snaps to Lord Tyland, violet eye narrowing. His fist clenches tightly at his side, near the dagger sheathed on his belt, at his waistline. “You would not dare separate them from me,” he tells him coldly. “She now carries my babe, my heir, and I will not allow her to leave my side!”
“She carries your bastard in her belly, Aemond,” Otto begins, slowly, carefully. He lays a soft hand on Aemond’s sleeve, giving him a pitiful smile. “There is quite a difference between a realm’s legitimate heir and a bastard. I understand you are taken with the girl, my prince, and that she is good and kind to you. But, at the end of the day, you remain a Targaryen prince, who will wed when the time comes. How might your lady wife feel if she were to learn your servant mothered your bastards?”
Aemond shrugs. “Then I shall take her as my wife.”
“You cannot wed her, Aemond!” His mother shakes her head, as if he is some absentminded child. She looks much older too, as if the news aged her a good ten years in one night. He suddenly feels a tad guilty. “How many times must we discuss this! Your father will not allow nor bless this union, and neither will I! Damn you, Aemond! She is a baseborn girl- your damn handmaid! Her duty is to serve you as a servant, not a wife.”
“And yet-“ Aemond replies, trying to keep the scorn out of his voice, “-she treats me far better than everyone in this very room.” At that, his mother has enough shame to blush red. He continues, “I love her, and she loves me. Is that not enough? Does that not make you happy? My entire life, mother, I’ve done everything that was expected of me. I’ve studied and trained and fulfilled every princely obligation of mine while your firstborn flouts to do as he pleases! Aegon shames Helaena every night with an empty bed yet you refuse to acknowledge such! And yet, when I find love and happiness, you’re ready to punish me.”
He levels his bright purple eye to his mother’s face. “I love you, mother, but I love her as well, and I will not live a life without her.” And Aemond’s all but ready to collapse to his knees, to beg and plead her acceptance. It is the only one that truly matters amongst everyone else's.
Afterward, his mother sits in silence, staring down at her hands. The skin stretched around her nailbeds are both red and tender, and she wears only her wedding ring on the right. She turns to face her king husband’s Hand. “Well, there it is, father.”
“It makes little difference, my Queen.” Lord Wylde and Lord Tyland murmured in agreement.
“But would it truly be wise to separate father from child, Lord Hand?” Lord Beesbury asks, pointing at the Hand, white eyebrows arched high. Otto Hightower raises his own eyebrow in return. “She is lowborn, yes, but a royal babe still sleeps in her womb.”
"A bastard, Lord Beesbury, mothered by the daughter of a milk cow."
A milk cow? Aemond blinks, momentarily confused. But before he could say anything further, his mother makes her final judgment on the matter.
The queen slowly rests her elbow on the table before plopping her chin atop her palm. “My son’s to be a father,” she says, a faint smile twisting on her lips. She repeats it again, almost like she doesn’t believe it. “A father…” Aemond feels a bit of hope blossoming inside his chest. “Pray tell, would you rather me separate him from his trueborn child? The child that is still his child, his own blood, bastard or not. We can argue on this matter till we are purple in the face, my lords, but the truth still remains,” she declares, before taking Aemond’s hand in hers, thin fingers laced with his.
“Take me to see her, son.”
At once, multiple voices arise in protest. His grandsire calls his mother’s name, but she ignores him as she stands to her feet. “I do beg your pardon, my lords, but I must see my grandchild.” Aemond bows, victorious, and turns on his heel without another word, feeling all eyes on his back as he strolls from the council chambers with his mother, her hand still in his. The doors closing shut behind them silences all the lords, and his mother sighs.
“My sincerest apologies, my dear Aemond, for referring to her as a whore,” she says, earnestly. “I know she is far from that, and I must say I’m rather fond of her.”
Outside, Ser Criston Cole was stationed, wearing his long white cloak of the Kingsguard. He gives the two a curious look but remains silent and still, straightening his shoulders when they pass by him. Aemond wonders if he overheard the small council’s session, and whether he agrees more with his mother or grandsire.
It does not matter, Aemond decides, pressing a soft kiss to his mother’s knuckles, in a show of forgiveness that makes her smile. He loves her too much to remain irate and frustrated with her, especially once she mentioned her soft spot for his girl. His queen mother- good and fair to the smallfolk- is the same with his handmaid. And his future children as well, he hopes.
“You’ll be a wonderful father,” she tells him, tucking a long strand of silver hair behind his ear. “And I mean it.”
He brings her to his bedchamber, where his handmaid sits on the settee, dutifully sewing up one of his tunics. When they arrive at his doors, she’s quick to bolt onto her feet, falling into a small courtesy. She wears a thick and ugly serving dress that hides her swelling belly underneath but does little to dull her beauty.
“My queen! My prince…”
Aemond takes her arm, pulling her alongside him. “My mother wishes to speak to you, my love,” he explains, gazing down into her eyes. His thumb strokes her cheekbone before he takes a step back, and his mother takes his place.
Before her, his love trembles, and he knows she’s awfully scared. It breaks his heart a little. He forewarned her of the small council’s gathering this morning, and how the maester told the queen of her pregnancy and the decision that would likely be made. She cried that entire night he held her, and neither got a wink of sleep.
“Your Grace…!” she sputters in a quavering voice, hand dropping to her tummy. “I beg of you…”
But his mother says nothing, instead cradling his sweet girl’s pretty face within her hands before leaning to kiss her temple. When she pulls back, her big brown eyes are soft and kind. “You’ll make a lovely mother, my dear,” she mumbles, and it is enough for his handmaid to break into a sob, falling limp as Queen Alicent holds her close, running a hand up and down her back.
“Thank you!” she cries through jagged gasps and wheezes. “I was so scared. I- thank you, my Queen, thank you. Thank you!”
His mother gently lifts her face upwards, wiping away the fat tears streaking down her cheeks. “Shhh, there was little to worry about, sweetling,” she coos. “Aemond wouldn’t have let anything happen to you, believe me. A man in love, with everything to lose, is perhaps the fiercest warrior to be found on the battlefield.”
Perhaps?
Aemond watches as his mother comforts his handmaid, mouthing small praises and pleasantries while stroking her hair back, doing her best in calming her down until her eyes are dry. Several minutes later, the two women are discussing the babe, with Queen Alicent sharing memories of the early days of her own pregnancies. The sight before him makes his heart swell in his breast, and he then recalls the words exchanged back in the council chambers.
I’m to be a father, and hopefully a husband soon.
He crosses his hands behind his back, smiling..
It seems to be true, he thinks, that there is indeed no more beautiful sight than your woman swelling with your baby.
But no one spoke of the beauty that follows when your mother accepts her grandchild for the first time, and the blinding glow that brightens your woman’s face when she realizes such has happened.
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Intro: Your marriage to Aemond was a blessing in your parents' eyes. But how much was your husband willing to concede and how much were you willing to accept?
Paramour- [Completed]
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Low-born Aemond series- [Completed]
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Dynasty of Flames- [Ongoing]
Part 1, part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 , Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16
Slytherin!Aemond AU [Completed]
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Slytherin!Aemond X Hufflepuff!Reader {one shot}
Ettore Fics:
Ettore x Fem!Reader- [Ongoing]
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
hi, i’m not doing well. i had to give up my cats today, and my heart hurts a lot. i was wondering if i could request something soft if you have anything in mind. even some headcanons would be fantastic. i’m just heartbroken that i had to give up my babies on top of everything else i’m going through.
Oh darling I am so sorry. My heart hurts for you. I will most certainly write something to help in what little way I can.
Lips
Aemond x reader | soft fluff | admiring Aemond's mouth | trying a new lipstick leads to interesting shenanigans
"It's a lovely shade, perhaps a bit too red for my complexion." You smacked your lips together, having applied a thin layer of your newest cosmetic. "What do you think, Aemond?"
"I'm not the authority on differing shades of lipstick, my dear." Your lover leaned against the doorframe, watching fondly as you sat at your vanity. "It does look lovely on you...however I can think of other places it could be as well."
"Aemond." You scolded gently, rolling your eyes at him. "You're terrible."
"Hmm, so I've been told."
You rose from your seat, crossing to where he stood, wrapping your arms around his trim waist. You placed your head upon his chest, relishing the familiar smokey scent of him, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear.
A gentle finger hooked itself under your chin, lifting your gaze to his. "Are you well, my dear?" Aemond's violet eye drank in your features as it roved over your face.
You suppressed an instinctual grimace at the question. "I've...been better."
"I heard what happened. You need not disguise your pain for my sake." Aemond dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours before pressing a soft kiss to your mouth.
He pulled away slightly, your eyes fell to his plush lips, a giggle bubbling from your chest as you saw that your lipstick had transferred onto his skin. "You look quite dashing in rouge, I must say!"
"Gods..." Aemond moved to rub the back of his hand against his pretty mouth, but you caught his jaw with your fingers, pulling him back into your warm embrace. You kissed him soundly and he didn't put up a fight, even as you smooched his cheek theatrically, leaving behind a suggestive stain.
He pressed his forehead to yours, your gentle laughter mingling as you savored each other's comforting warmth.
"Come, let me clean you up." You led him to the sofa where the two of you sat.
"Something I am accustomed to saying to you." Aemond grinned as you swatted his shoulder.
You patted your lap. "Lie down."
"As my ember commands." Aemond laid his long body languidly across the cushions of the sofa, his head pillowed by your thighs.
You took your time, combing your fingers through the silver hair that fanned out across your legs. Tracing delicate fingers along the contours of his face, rising to lift the eyepatch from its place and set it to rest beside you. The sapphire gem glittered up at you, contrasting beautifully with the lilac of Aemond's remaining eye.
"You're lovely, my prince." You said honestly, continuing to run your fingers down his cheek, touching where your lips had left their mark.
"I...thank you, Y/N."
You smiled, nodding at him as you dipped a cloth inside the warm water of the wash basin beside you. "Sȳz taoba. Accept the compliment, don't reject it."
"Call me a 'good boy' again and I may not be able to lie still upon your lap, Y/N." Aemond's eye had dilated slightly at your praise, he gazed up into your face as you began dabbing away the rouge from his skin.
"Promises, promises." You murmured, earning yourself another low chuckle from the prince. "Now hold still, I'm going to clean your mouth. Can't have the court thinking you've caught some sort of skin ailment."
"Perish the thought."
"Stop talking, Aemond."
"Oh, right."
He closed his mouth, still watching you intently as you began gently rubbing off the lipstick. They were so lovely, his lips. The shape of his mouth something you had not seen before in man or woman. The sharpness of his cupid's bow tempered by the lush fullness of his top and bottom lips. When they were not pursed in displeasure or focus, Aemond's mouth was quite a pleasant thing to look at.
"Must be quite the stain." Aemond quipped, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his eye crinkling at you.
"Mmhmm. Now hush." You pressed a finger against his bottom lip, studying the softness of his skin there, and how your finger could easily slide into his mouth with just one movement.
You traced the shape of his upper lip, having discarded the cleaning rag back into the basin. The curvature of his mouth fascinated you, and the more you studied it the more you wished to feel it pressed against your heating skin.
"You're clean." Your voice came out as a whisper, your eyes following Aemond's fluid movement as he rose to a sitting position, his face inches from yours.
"Cannot say the same for my thoughts." He intoned, his breath mingling with yours, his eye falling to your own parted lips.
"Are they ever?" You leaned in closer, craving the taste of him.
"On occasion." Aemond brushed his mouth against yours, your noses bumping. "Though certainly not when my lover has been caressing my lips with such fervor."
"There was a lot of lipstick on them."
"Hmm." Aemond's hooded eye was unfocused. "Shall we explore the possibilities of what else your pretty mouth can mark?"
"I could be persuaded." You reached up, tangling your fingers in Aemond's long hair, pulling him into you as his own hands stroked your sides.
He groaned quietly as you slowly pressed a kiss to his parted lips, electric arrows shot to your core as he bent you back against the cushions, leaning atop you as he deepened the embrace.
The shape of his mouth hot against your own awoke molten fire in your belly. You opened your legs to him, hugging his waist with your thighs as Aemond's tongue stroked along your own.
He broke away, his hair falling in a silver curtain to frame your faces. "We have to prepare for the feast that has...probably already started." Aemond sat up, looking regretfully down at your prone body as you arched against the sofa. "We will pick up where we left off after the festivities."
He raised your hand to his lush mouth, placing a kiss to each of your knuckles. "I know you're suffering, however silently, Y/N. Believe me when I say I will make you forget your troubles...if only for a little while."
"Your very presence eases my pain, Aemond." You cupped his face in your hand, caressing his bottom lip.
Aemond turned his face into your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. His fingers rubbing soft circles against your wrist as he held you to him.
"You may want to, ah, bring the wash basin over here." Aemond smirked mischievously as he donned his eyepatch once more. "We've made a bit of a mess. One that would be obvious in origin to those at the feast."
"Oh!" You touched your face self-consciously. "Wouldn't want the ladies of weak constitution to faint at the scandal."
"Nor the over eager men to draw swords for your honor."
"They wouldn't."
"You'd be unpleasantly surprised what bored lordlings get up to during their days at court."
The two of you helped each other clean the marks from your skin, it had gotten all over the outside of your mouth from the passion of your kisses. Aemond bit down his chuckles at your state of disarray after you shot him an arch glare. Once tidied and dressed, you walked forth from your chambers arm in arm, descending together to the great hall. Your mind quite preoccupied with memories of Aemond's soft mouth beneath your fingertips and what lay in store for you at the end of the night.
I keep watching YouTube react videos trying to find someone who admits that's aemonds hot. Like I know we're out here obviously but I have yet to find one.
