Prince Aemond - Blog Posts

All Aegon had to do was start kicking

Typical siblings behaviour at its finest!😭

i’m bad, he’s worse, we’re already dead

honestly tho they so would like yes they have a dysfunctional family but they care about each other they'd do a lot for each other, and like they want me to believe that show aemond is aemond from the book like I'm sorry but that is two diffrent people so glad the shows it's own canon and the books are their own canon

Just thinking about how book Alicent and Aemond react to the way their show version treat Aegon kill me 😂

Alicent: what's this bitch is doing to my sweet son? Oh no–

*Show Alicent slap Aegon*

Alicent:...

Aegon: mother? Are you ok–

Alicent: *throw the remote and break the TV*

Alicent: *hugs Aegon tightly, almost suffocating him*

Aegon: M-Mother, can't breathe–

Alicent: Shh, it's ok now, my love. Mother loves you, darling. No more nasty TV for you.

Aemond: what is happening? W-wait don't tell me...

*show Aemond trying to kill Aegon*

Aemond: *face go blank* my king?...

Aegon: hm?

Aemond: forgive me...

Aegon: oh come on it's just a stupid show no need–

Aemond: not that, I'm apologizing for what I'm about to do...

Aemond: *pull his sword out and put it on his own neck*

Aegon: wha... WHAT ARE YOU DOING???!

Aemond: PLEASE DON'T TRY TO STOP ME–

Aemond: *suddenly fall to the ground*

Aegon: *look back up and see Daeron standing there with a flowerpot in his hand*

Daeron: you're welcome.

me staring at the mf that ate the food I was thinking about all day.

Aemond Sketches

Dont worry yall, i promise I'll be updating again shortly🙏🙏 i was on spring break when i was grinding out posts, and now im back at school. I haven't abandoned you😩

Feel like i have to grind the one i posted privately so you can finally see it🙏 cold hands, warm heart coming out soon (Aemond Targaryen Masterlist) (update 11:15 pm. She posted)

NEED to stop posting things instead of saving them or editing in my drafts omfgg

Cold Hands, Warm Heart - Aemond Targaryen Headcanon

"And when i saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled, because you knew." - William Shakespeare . The only Daughter of Lord Stark is married to Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: doesn't follow the plot of hotd, cregan sides with the greens just for the sake of this marriage agreement, but he's still noble your honor🙏, smut, fluff, very protective aemond, sorta ooc, dislike for alicent as a mother, cregan ships them, religious insecurities, part two?

The young lady of winterfell was by all accounts, a rare bird of the north. She had long, curled ginger locks and a face that held strength in beauty.

She was said to be a kind soul, eager to help the people of her community, feeding the beggars and filling the pockets of the poor. Creating homes for orphaned babes, and safe places to work for both men and women selling themselves to get buy.

Aemond wondered why Lord Stark had petioned him for his daughter. Sure, be was notoriously less rowdy than his brother, however he was not said to be any more kind or forgiving, besides, would a woman as charitable as her not make for an excellent queen? He did not wish for a kind wife, he needed someone hardened for when the war started.

Of course, the moment he laid his eyes on her he wanted her for himself, and he was ecstatic he hadnt asked the council to change their minds.

Lady stark was not excited for her bethroal. She had heard of the targaryen prince, Aemond One-Eye. She had heard tales of his brutality, even around children, and she was horrified she would be expected to conceive with a man who is said to hate babies.

Of course, she would normally assume most of these to be rumours and lies, but jacareys talked to her while he visited Winterfell, to plead his mothers case. He may have lost in her fathers eyes, however he gave the young stark girl information she couldnt do without.

He told her that Aemond was a brute and he wasnt capable of love. Jacareys explained in his detail, how Aemond attacked them as children, forcing his younger brother to retaliate and ever since then his uncle hated children.

Of course, Lady stark didnt know this was an exaggerating claim of a man sprung with jealousy. She'd be married to Lucerys, Jacareys' younger brother had Cregan agreed with Rhaenyras cause, and Aemond had he agreed with Alicent. He had an agenda

Now, lady stark wasnt naive. She knew the prince couldnt be the monster jacareys described him to be, however she wouldnt discredit the words of his cousin, nor a man she aspired to be her friend

They met in the throne room upon her arrival perhaps a moon and a half from their wedding, late, late at night. The only others in the room were King Aegon (who was very upset to be woken), Alicent, Ser Otto, Helaena (who had also been upset to be woken), Ser Cole, and a couple trusted servents. They wouldnt wake the whole palace for a meeting, instead they'd hold a grand feast on the morrow to intoduce House Stark, and the preperations for wedding.

Lady Stark and her father would come in the room wearing thin furs made purposely for the trip. There was an obvious fondness to represent their house as they strode closer to the group, Aemond could spot a silver pendent on her necklace, holding a direwolf sigil, and it shone in the candlelight of the throneroom.

Aemond stepped forward, instantly entranced with his betrothed. She was as if a winter princess born of an affair between gods of snow and beauty.

He outstretched his hand to take hers and took of her glove, slowly. He bowed as he kissed her hand and although the act was very much so appropriate, it felt sensual in the way he stared up at her.

"My young lady Stark, its an honour to meet your acquaintance, i hope we'll be able to spend much time together before we are wed." There was a certain knowingness in his voice, a joking tone that made even the tried King crack a smile and snort, and have Cregan glare a dagger into Aemonds one eye.

The rest of the introductions were boring and Aemond stared at his to-be-bride the whole time, only looking away as the stark family was brought to their chambers.

The next day, before the feast, Aemond would look for his bethrothed in her chambers and not find her, he'd soon find her in one of the smaller libraries in the palace.

"I can show you to our grand library if you'd wish. The books here are merely copies of them and theres many more in there, believe me." He startled her enough to cause the peaceful expression on her face to falter and make her jump a bit. "My apologies, i didnt know a wolf would be so jumpy."

Their conversation went on from there, he asked her about what she was so interested in, and she told him it was the Targaryen history. He didnt want to admit how that warmed his heart a bit, and instead told her that the grand library would certainly have more informed books, he of course also slipped in that his own personal library had some additions he'd be happy to show her.

She dismissed his shameless flirting, but took him up on his offer to see the bigger library.

He asked for her arm as they walked through the halls and she gave it to him wordlessly. Aemond was almost startled at how quiet she was being.

When they arrived at the library, Lady Stark noticed a guard at the front doors and must have looked puzzled enough for Aemond to take it as a sign to answer her unspoken question.

"There are scrolls and scripts in here worth more than a kings ransom, my dearest. All precious things must be protected."

Aemond watched as his bethrothed walked around the library, observing the organization before carefully walking to the section she wanted. "V" for Valyrian. She thumbed through pages of the first book she picked up and bit her cheek

After selecting two books from that section, she moved behind bookshelves out of Aemonds' sight, and reappeared in the "T" section. She was holding three more books.

Aemond would stride over to her silently, he wouldnt get too close in a bit of fear of spooking her, and yet he still startled her.

"Let me hold them." Lady stark smirked a little bit. Oh, so he was a gentleman, too? She briefly wondered if it was because she was a woman he was being so kind, or had Jacaerys been bluffing in how brutish the prince was?

"Some of these are about the north?" Aemond questioned, "Do you not know the history of your own home?"

"Of course i do!" She bit back, a bit angry at his insinuation. "I'd wish to learn what you southerners learn of our home. How you talk about our people and our land." She justified herself graciously. Aemond shocked her by apologizing. He wasn't someone she had ever expected to bow to a woman, and yet he bowed below her, took her hand, and kissed it gently.

"I would never intend to offend you, my lady."

Within a week and a half, Aemond and Lady Stark had become very close. Alicent was almost proud of her son for being so dutiful before he was even married.

Aemond enjoyed Lady Starks' presence. She was smart. Smarter than his dimwitted brother, more sensible than his kooky sister, he felt like they were on an even playing field mentally.

Lady stark, however, was just enjoying a break from the roughness that comes from Winterfell. Men there were chivalrous, sure, but they lacked warmth, Aemond one eye was filled with fire.

She didn't trust him yet, she wasnt sure if she ever could despite him never having done anything wrong to her. She found him kind, almost too kind. It went against everything anyone had ever said about him

Before long, Aemond started noticing a chance in lady starks demeanor. She was more generally sad looking, and she kept away from the people she used to look forward to being with, her maidens for tea time, Helaena, and even Aemond.

Aemond became noticeably angrier theoughout the week she distanced herself. He was upset, and he couldn't figure out why.

It was Lord Cregan Stark who had settled the tension. He had found Aemond in his study and knocked sternly to get his attention.

"You've been good to my daughter boy, made her happier than any other northern man, so I'll tell you this:" he'd begin coming closer into the room, catching Aemonds attention. "She is connected to home. Winterfell is her place. She is a baby of snow and ice. Those connections can not be broken, and it's not just to the cold. Her faith, her tradition, its all been engraved in her head and now she cannot have any of that, be gracious."

At first, Aemond almost took it as an insinuation that he couldn't make her happy because he wasn't a northerner, but he wasn't as quick to temper and thought of it logically. He was her father, of course he'd know her better then he did.

Aemond knew that lady stark believed in the old gods, but he had assumed it was in the same way his family believed in the seven, loosely. He hadn't taken interest in her religious traditions, and he should've.

He prided himself on being a smart, insightful man and as he fell more attarcted to Lady Stark. He knew he wanted to be a good husband, and eventually a good father.

Lady Stark had been missing her home. She missed sitting under the heart trees with her brother Rickon and reading him stories of the strong warriors of the old north. She missed the stew made for supper almost every week, and she missed praying before it every time, praying to her gods.

She didn't mean to push people away she just needed some space. Everyone she talked to in kingslanding unintentionally pushed their culture on her with every interaction.

She had taken all meals in her room or the given study used between her family and spent all her time in the smaller libraries and her chambers.

She wasn't isolating herself, she just wanted familarity.

As she traveled back from the east wing library to her own chambers, she noticed a lack of guards in her family's guest hall

Disregarding the fact, she would go to her own chambers and drop a heavy stack of books on a table near the entrance.

Aemond was sitting on her bed.

He was thumbing through a book lady stark recognized as her fathers. A Winterfell Tradition and History guide. Lady Stark thought about what she had said when they first met in the library, that she wanted to know what southerners write about them, and she had told him later that it was barbarically uncharacteristic.

He was showing an initiative to learn about her interest. He atleast in his head he was trying. He talked to his grandfather, Ser Otto, and asked if their was any way to have a godswood somewhere he could take his wife when they wed, somewhere he could create a place of worship for lady stark so despite being a three days dragon trip from home, could feel like she had a place.

He knew this wouldn't solve the total matter. He would have to do more to help her feel like Kings Landing would be her home just as much as winterfell was. But he hoped it may have been a beginning.

"Aemond," she broke him out of his reading. He knew she was there, of course, but he hadn't looked up.

"You dont need to acknowledge me if you dont like. I'll sit on the edge of your bed and let you do whatever in silence. I can't stand being away from you anymore, my dear, im sorry, i didn't think of how hard your adjustment has been. I'd like to help you in any way, even if it's just being by your side." He stood up as she walked closer. "Your interests are important to me. Your history is. The first thing you did when you came here was learn about my history, and i should've taken the initiative to do the same."

Lady stark felt like crying. He was emotionally invested in her and wanted to be with her. He wanted to learn her.

The couple had a conversation for hours, moving to sit in a position where she was lying in his chest. She had told him it was wrong and sinful to lay together before marriage, but neither really cared.

They read the book together, Lady stark smiling widely as she pointed out some of her ancestry, and Aemond some of her favourite childhood stories.

By the end of the night, Lady Stark realized she was happy with this arrangement. She had been wrong about Aemond, and the idea of marrying him no longer scared her.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

Angst=🥀Smut=🪷Fluff=🌸Headcanon=🐛

A Violent Streak🪷🌸

"Do you understand the violence it took to be this gentle" - Unknown. Aemond cant help but fall in love with his sweet, soft aunt, and he falls deeper when he finds out her twisted secret.

Cold Hands, Warm Heart 🌸🐛

"And when i saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled, because you knew." - William Shakespeare . The only Daughter of Lord Stark is married to Aemond Targaryen.

The Truth in a Glance🥀🪷

"I have you forever in my heart and eye" - Nj . Aemond and his cousin grew up together before the dance. As Aemond falls deeper in love he realizes he'd do anything to have her back and married to him.

Jealousy🪷🌸

"I am your sword, your shield, and your love-sick protector" -Unknown . 'So if your not in love with her, fallen drunken head over heels, youd never mind me asking her to dance?' Those words from his elder brother caused a rifting change in Aemond, he wouldnt leave your side now.

A familiar presence 🥀🌸

"The only cure for grief is to grieve." - Unknown . Aemond and his wife annulled their marriage days after the war ended. He was no longer prince regent and had no need for a wife. His wifes condition was that she could take their daughter, so he agreed and they moved away. Within months, she is attacked, and her daughter is murdered in spite of Aemonds role in the war, and his ex-wife is left broken. Who else is she to turn to, but the only person who shares her grief

“It wouldn’t change anything” HOLY SHI

GAGGED.

SILENCED.

HUMBLED.

I LOVE MY QUEEN HELAENA

Another scene from the finale!!! Spoiler guys!!!

Hi! I would love to request something for Aemond x fem or gn reader. I was thinking reader saying prompt. 15 from your general list “I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too."

Maybe one day he wakes up with bad pain in the eye and he doesn’t feel like calling the maester so they help him, they remove his eyepatch and apply his ointment for him. And he feels extremely insecure because it’s the first they saw him without the eyepatch but they reassure him. I need that man to cry in my arms as I tell him he’s beautiful (I know it may sound ooc but he’s my babygirl)

15. ''I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are. Although you look pretty great too.''

The gif from the trailer fits perfectly this request

Warnings: mention of past injuries (eye)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You returned to your chambers after spending the morning embroidering with Helaena to find Aemond still in bed. A frown drew between your eyebrows. At this hour, he was either training with Ser Criston or attending the small council meeting.

‘’Aemond?’’ Your soft voice cut through the silence of the room, waking your husband’s attention.

He shifted under the covers, his single eye fluttering open. ‘’Could you tell Cole I will not be training with him today?’’

You walked over to the bed, taking a closer look at him. ‘’Are you well?’’ You touched his forehead with the back of your hand, checking for a fever.

‘’It’s just…my eye. It gets irritated sometimes.’’ Aemond avoided your gaze, not wanting to see the familiar look of pity that he had grown all too used to seeing in the eyes of others. ‘’Would you want me to fetch the maester? He should have something to sooth your pain,’’ you offered, concern etched on your face.

‘’No need for the maester.’’ He gently caught your hand in his own, stopping you from rising. ‘’I already have a salve Maester Orwyle gave to me. It’s on the table, over there.’’

Aemond let go of your hand, allowing you to stand and retrieve the salve for his eye. You returned to the bed. ‘’I’ll do it for you.’’

You had offered your help out of pure kindness, but Aemond did not want it.

‘’No! I do not wish that.’’ His voice was firm, causing your hands to crisp around the jar. ‘’You won’t like what you see under,’’ he added with a gentler tone.

He knew what lay beneath the eyepatch — the grotesque, scarred skin that he had lived with for years now. It was a sight he preferred to keep hidden from everyone, even you. Especially you. Since you’ve known each other, you’ve only seen his good looks, and Aemond wanted to keep it that way.

Aemond let out a soft hiss of pain as he sat up, his body tense with discomfort. It had not been this bad in a long time.

Seeing him in pain made your heart ache, but you tried to hide it.

You sat down close to him and guided him back against the pillows. He clenched his jaw, trying to bear the pain.

‘’Let me,’’ you insisted, only wanting to help him, to relieve his pain.

His good eye was fixed on yours with a mixture of resignation and reluctance. He knew there was no arguing with you when you were like this.

With a resigned sigh, he slowly removed the eyepatch, revealing the scarred skin beneath. The sight was a stark contrast to his usual handsome features, with its puckered and uneven texture. He averted his gaze, unable to look at you directly.

Aemond waited for your response, his body tense, and braced for your reaction. He expected disgust, pity, perhaps even revulsion. After all, his scarred eye had left other people speechless in the past. He glanced up at you under his lashes, searching your face for any hint of how you were feeling.

You remained silent as you applied the salve on the reddish-pink skin with the more careful and gentle touch. Causing him more pain was the last thing you wanted.

Aemond couldn't help but watch you intently, studying the focused expression on your face. Your eyes were fixed on his scar, but there was no repugnance in your gaze, just a mixture of concern and tenderness.

Once you were finished, you put the lid back on the jar and cupped your husband’s face with one hand. ‘’Aemond,’’ you began, looking at him with the most loving eyes. ‘’I fell in love with you. Not for how you look, just for who you are.’’ You glanced down at his naked chest, seeing the softly defined muscles he acquired from training, and back to his face. ‘’Although you look pretty great too.’’

Aemond's heart squeezed at your words and the tenderness in your gaze. He had expected a lot of things from you, but not this. Not such unconditional acceptance and love.

"You're the only person who's ever looked at me like this," he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion.

‘’Come here.’’ You shifted back on the bed and guided him to your lap.

Aemond didn’t protest, curling up to you, seeking comfort and closeness. You began to stroke his hair gently, running your fingers through the soft silver strands. The sensation was soothing and intimate, making him feel safe and entirely loved for the first time.

—

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one of the best aemond fics i’ve reader (no lie)

From Friend to Foe

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen X Strong!fem!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), noncon, virgin!reader, possessive aemond, friends to enemies, childhood friends, reader is from house strong, dragon riding (also riding Aemond), unprotected sex (p in v), forced kissing, riding breeding, angst, threats, humiliation, reader has dark hair, hair pulling, slapping, cunnilingus, mention of forced marriage, attempted murder.

SYNOPSIS: Aemond and you were childhood friends, you being the daughter of a lord and him being the Targayen prince. When the Greens and Blacks went against each other, your father’s sworn fealty to the blacks became an obstacle in your friendship and when your father was defeated, army overthrown — you were taken prisoner, kneeled before the Targaryen prince who was once your closest friend.

Swords clashed, dragon roared and knights fell after fighting bravely.

All you could do was sit idle in your room and await the promise of a better future. Only it did not come and when silence haunted the grounds of Harrenhal and everything came to a halt, you were certain your family had lost the fight.

You were mere humans, with no possession of such an almighty being.

Dragons were Gods. To be worshiped and prayed — and one was prominently flying over the remains of Harrenhal.

Belonging to none other than Aemond Targaryen, who was once your beloved friend with whom you dreamt of riding on a dragon.

Aemond had promised you when you were younglings. A promise that once he has claimed himself a dragon, you would be the first person he'd take for a flight.

The irony of the situation broke your heart.

The same dragon had left your castle and people in ruins — Vhagar’s loud wails filling up the sky with terror. You knew very well that now your army had fallen, your father definitely slain, you were going to face the same fate as many women during war did.

A prisoner, meat for Aemond’s men.

The door was slammed open and you turned around in a swift motion, finding your servant standing there. A look of horror adorning her once serene features. “It is done. The Targaryen prince has won and we are the only ones left.”

Tears blurred your vision. You did not remember reaching for the sharp blade which you had placed on your side table, an escape from all the atrocities you would eventually be forced to face by the hands of your own closest friend.

War was war.

And with the stories of Aemond’s cruelty circulating about, you knew very well than to beg for mercy or even expect it. Long gone was the sweet prince who made you promises of protection, a dragon and long lasting friendship.

He was your foe now.

An enemy who had slayed the men of your house, your own blood.

As you attempted to cut your own throat, a hand prevented you from doing so. Guards, of house Targaryen. Your face paled and your tears finally rushed down your face in glossy streaks, your one chance of escape taken from you.

The men restrained you but you screamed, struggled even. To break free and somehow draw the blade closer to your throat, only a small cut and you would disappear. You did not care if this was considered weak, you were willing to do just about anything to keep your dignity and honor.

To not be some slave for a man to put his cock in.

“Stay still, woman!” One of the guards berated you but you didn't listen, worming in their grasp.

“Let me go! Release me, right now.” Your screams echoed in the expanse of your chamber as well as the castle and Aemond heard them too.

He had ordered the demise of everyone, everyone besides you. There was this ache, this need to lay his eye upon you for the first time in awhile. Last time he saw you when you were nine, a beautiful little girl who often came to the red keep with her father — member of the council.

Aemond and your friendship flourished when you defended him against Aegon, comforting him to not lose all hope for a dragon. It was you who encouraged him, who provided him with the mental strength to claim Vhagar.

Your words of strength lingered in the back of his mind when he took claim of the largest dragon.

And now he had caused destruction with the same dragon.

Fate had brought you both to this. Ruined every good thing which was left in his life and he knew that you would never, ever forgive him for destroying your home.

You were kind, loving, sweet. Rebellious too but always stood your ground and believed in achieving justice, by any means. Aemond wondered how you'd grown, how you appeared as an adult now.

Did you braid your dark hair the same way as his Targaryen sister did, since you'd grown so fond of their silver hair? Were your eyes still the same onyx dark as your hair, a stark contrast to his own purple ones and was your choice in clothes still so dreadful? Curiosity pinched at his abdomen.

Your screams boomed through Harrenhal and Aemond felt proud of your resistance, only he had no knowledge of what you were resisting for so prominently.

He had no idea all your desperation and fight was to end your life.

The guards pulled you apart, their blood stained hands managing to rip off the side of your dress which concealed your shoulder during all the commotion to get you to release the blade. You somehow managed to free yourself from one of the guard’s unbearable grip and slashed his face with the blade.

“Ah, you fucking bitch.” He screamed, holding his face with one hand while the other tried to reach for you.

Another guard extracted his revenge, striking you across your face and tugging at the already torn fabric, exposing more of your back.

Your face contorted in pain, wishing to rid yourself off this world. “Don't fucking touch me. Unhand me and I will slaughter you lot like pigs.”

Your threats were larger than your size and some guards found you amusing while some knew you were capable of what you had promised them. A hand reached for your wrist, to tame it but not being able to pry open your clingy fingers around the dagger with all their strength.

Your fingers had paled, losing all their pink hue and the blood had stopped pumping through the small veins. That was how strong your grip around the weapon was.

Being carried down the stairs, your gaze took in the sight of the place that was once your home. Broken and hopeless, you were dragged along to the main hall. Rain pattered over the stones, causing a nauseating feeling in your stomach as you took in the situation of your castle.

Thankfully, your blurry vision did not allow you to take more of the destruction. All you noticed was the daunting figure of your enemy, standing pridefully at the center of the hall, awaiting your arrival.

You were pushed towards someone, forced on your knees and the silky silver strands gave away at the person's identity. Prince Aemond Targaryen stood before you, with his back turned to you and hands clasped behind his back.

You attempted to gather the pieces of your torn dress, holding it over your chest since it was ripped evidently in the back. Aemond upon turning around, did not expect you to be in such ruins. Dress torn apart, dark hair all but a mess and he caught glimpse of the silver rings encircled around your strands.

Now in a complete frenzy.

The same silver you always wore in your hair, around your little braids.

Aemond glanced up at his guards and then back at you, watching you. Demeanor phlegmatic, lips sitting tediously on his face.

You didn't dare to lift up your eyes. It wasn't about possessing enough courage to look him in the eye but having no self control. You knew deep down if you looked at him, you'd lose all control and attack him.

“I don't recall ordering you lot to bring her in such a..” Aemond tilted his head, analyzing the state you were in. “disheveled state.”

“She fought back a lot, my Prince. Intended to cut her throat with that little blade of hers in her hand.” Aemond was slightly taken aback from the revelation but you were right to choose that as an option. Everyone in this room knew what happened to women during war, especially the beautiful ones such as yourself.

The highborns were craved more as they carried noble blood within them.

His one eye fell upon the blade you still held with great vigor in your hand and Aemond nearly snickered. You had not let go of that adamant personality of yours, carrying it with you in adulthood.

Aemond did not like how your beautiful skin was exposed to the lecherous eyes of his guards. This abrupt jealousy even left him bemused for a moment, nonetheless he diverted his attention back to you.

He stepped closer — frame towering over yours and you saw the perfect moment to attack him. A feeble and thoughtless action but it was either succumbing to horrors or extracting revenge. In a fraction of mere seconds, you had risen up from your knees and headed for him with the pointy end of the dagger in his direction.

The guards reached for you and before you could possibly injure the Prince regent, his fingers enveloped your wrist. With potent strength and fast reflexes, Aemond held you in place. A mischievous glint flashed in his one good eye, lips curving up in a malicious smirk.

He saw the raw hatred and hunger for revenge in your eyes — your hand unwavering and stable. You meant the attack. Nowhere was it under the sad emotions of losing your family.

“Bold of you to assume this would work on me, Dōna.” Aemond whispered, face only a few inches apart from yours. Only the dagger separating you. You acknowledged the name he'd called you, from when you were children and the anger inside you was fuelled more. (Sweet)

“Have I not trained in front of you, hm? Did you not see me wield a sword whenever you stayed in the red keep?”

You glared at him. “I will kill you, either with poison or with a dagger. It is my promise to you, tyrant.”

“From raqiros to tyrant? You truly have grown, my Dōna.” He whispered malevolently, his warm breath with its own mind caressing the bridge of your nose, nearly with affectionate. (Friend)

Having spent most of your childhood in the red keep with the targaryens, especially Aemond, he was bound to teach you some high valyrian. You knew what raqiros meant, but he had never unveiled the meaning behind the nickname he gave you. Promising you he would once you two are grown enough.

Aemond looked up from your face to his men who stood on guard. Three of them, big and broad. His eyes raked over their hands and as he imagined those same hands mishandling you, ripping away at your clothes and prying open the corset which held your dress together, his jaw clenched.

“Ser Criston Cole,” he called out and the commander responded, head held high.

Aemond’s hand still prevented you from moving an inch, the pointy end of the dagger only a few inches away from his glistening, pale cheek.

“Behead them.” It was a simple command but it instilled fear in everyone in the room, including you. Even the commander was surprised by such a gruesome order and dared to ask. “Forgive me, my Prince but why?”

Aemond locked gaze with you. “They dared to lay hands on my prize, unveiled her dignity.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the Commander nodded, passing the order to his other guards. You heard the sounds of constant struggle, similar to yours as their pleas to live fell upon deaf ears.

“My Prince, please! Spare us, we were only acting upon your order!”

They were ignored, as Aemond continued to stare at you. His purple eye dropping to your lips for a second. He released you and you, on instinct, stepped back with the dagger still in your hand. It was proven that combat was definitely not how you could take down the prince.

Aemond had forced you to come along to the premises of Harrenhal, where his dragon rested. Strained and tired from the war she had indulged in. You had never seen Vhagar up close but knew that she was the second largest dragon, her first rider being Visenya Targaryen.

Your lips shuddered the more closer you were pulled next to the sleeping dragon.

“She can smell fear.” Aemond reminded you, staring ahead. “Conceal it unless you wish to burn to ashes.”

You inhaled a deep breath, closing your eyes and hoping to put an end to the growing fear in the presence of Vhagar.

When you opened your eyes, you were more calm now and in the right state of mind to admire the beast’s beauty. She was gorgeous, a shade of bronze mixed with green and blue highlights. Green, fierce eyes staring ahead and you would have congratulated Aemond on claiming a dragon if only the circumstances were different.

“You will ride with me to King’s Landing.”

“I will not.” You spat, taking a step back from him. That didn't seem to please Aemond as he closed the distance between you and grasped your arm, holding you in place. “Yes, you will.”

“I would rather be fed to your hounds than ride with you upon the back of the dragon which destroyed my home.” Your tone was venomous, full of anger and spite. Aemond knew there was no way calming you down or ridding you of your anger, so he did the next best thing that came to mind.

His slim hands slithered across your waist as he picked you up, settling you down on the dragon’s back. Vhagar released a roar and Aemond whispered something to her in high valyrian, causing her to calm down. Her head settling down, to rest.

He moved in front of you, taking a seat as well. “Hold on tight.”

You glued your hands to your sides, completely ignoring him. Aemond released a frustrated growl at your adamant behavior and lack of pliancy. He reached behind to grab your arms with his gloved hands, forcefully circling them around his small waist.

“Let go of me.” You struggled and Aemond looked back at you with irritation all over his beautiful face. “Do you wish to succumb to your death by falling? If so, feel free to let go.”

That was a lie as Aemond had already tied you to him with the brown belt — locking you with him. Even if you were to let go of him, his body weight restricted on his dragon would prevent you from falling and eventually meeting your demise. This was merely to get you to touch him.

To feel you against him, with little to no distance.

Your lips settled in a frown as you tightened your hold around him causing Aemond to grin. He patted his dragon’s back and then spoke. “Sōvēs, Vhagar.” (Fly)

The dragon shifted on its legs, preparing for the flight and you gasped when you felt it move more beneath you. Subconsciously, your fingers gripped the leather tunic of Aemond, chest pressing tightly over his broad back. Terror filled you as the dragon finally took flight, its huge wings flapping and the force of it made you realize how easy it must have been for Aemond to ruin your house.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, closing your lids shut and burying your face in Aemond’s shoulders.

This is exactly how he had anticipated your first ride on a dragon with him all these years, how you'd react to the beast moving and roaring. Your subtle touches, adorable reactions and soft sounds were just as Aemond had pictured them in his mind.

And he was fulfilling his promise to you.

Until now, Aemond never allowed anyone to ride with him. Only you were the exception and as gruesome the enmity between the two of you was, he could not simply suppress the overwhelming feelings he'd always harbored.

“Aemond..” You whispered, as the dragon took flight and it left you screaming. “Aemond! I'm fucking terrified.”

One hand holding onto his seat, the other reached over and settled on your hand around his chest. In an attempt to comfort you as Vhagar flew into the depths of the sky, Harrenhal nothing but a small scenery when you opened your eyes to look down at it.

A lone tear slid down your face.

This was not how you wished to ride with Aemond.

You hated him, disgust all over your face when you noticed how little and inferior everything appeared from up here. No wonder the Targaryens burned people and houses, as they felt superior being this close to Gods than the rest of you.

“Calm down, Dōna.” He said to you when his dragon had finally flew for King’s Landing.

You didn't say anything, only loosened your hold around him after realizing how awfully close were you to him.

Aemond noticed that and didn't like it.

“Vēzot, Vhagar. Vēzot.” Upon hearing Aemond’s command, the dragon changed route and flew high up in the air, going up tearing through the grey clouds. In fear of falling, your arms once again found themselves around the dragon rider’s small waist. (Up)

You had no idea what Aemond had said but it made his dragon fly up, defying gravity and leaving you gasping for air.

With a satisfied smile on his face, Aemond relished in the feeling of power he had over you and the power he'll soon have over others too. It was painfully evident his brother was incompetent and if something were to befall him, it would be Aemond next in line to inherit the throne.

Never did you ever think or expect that you would be brought back to the red keep as a prize, a symbol of victory — a slave most definitely for Aemond after how he behaved last time with the guards last time. He did not allow anyone to look at you, to touch you, besides your maidens who helped you doll up for the Prince.

His possessiveness was very well known to you when you both were children but you had expected him to grow out of it. How foolish of you to assume that.

Aemond was a possessive child. You recalled the time where he had forbade his siblings from playing with you — or when he did not let anyone touch his sword or even wield it. You remembered how the future lord of Casterly Rock was treated only because he had dared to pass a compliment to Aemond’s sword.

You could hear the cheers of the smallfolk and it disgusted you. He only won against you and your family, not the Blacks. It repulsed you how he was supporting a usurper and not the rightful heir. Your father died for the cause of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you would do too in a heartbeat.

You were lead inside the Red keep after the notorious flight with Aemond. The Prince’s orders were to his servants were to lead you to his own chambers and clean you up. You had no idea why, but you were not going to comply easily.

“I am not your mistress.” Your voice boomed loudly in the main hall, causing Aemond’s footsteps to come to a halt. “Neither am I your whore. Kill me because I too support Rhaenyra Targaryen’s claim to the throne. I shall die a honorable death as my father and kin did.”

You had dared to speak to him, like that, in the presence of not only the Queen but even the other council members.

Aemond’s hands balled up into fits. “Take her.”

You were forcefully dragged somewhere while you struggled, piercing screams enough to damage one's ears. Before you were pulled in a corridor, you made a promise. “I will get my revenge, Aemond Targaryen. You shall answer for the blood of my family that stains your hands. I will never forgive you!”

Alicent followed her son, your threats still lingering in her mind. You had screamed them with tremendous agony and will. She worried, for the kingdom.

“Do you believe you would be doing the realm anything good by bringing a blood thirsty enemy here?” Alicent questioned as she followed Aemond into the room where the council took place.

His fists shook, with poorly tamed rage. “She is anything but a weak girl.”

Alicent scoffed. “She is openly screaming threats. Either a fool would do that or a person who has got absolutely nothing to lose, Aemond.”

“Her screams will quiet down once I have managed to put a child in her.” Aemond spat at his mother, placing his sword down on the table.

She was appalled at what her son had evolved into. The monster he'd become and somewhere she doubted her own motherly skills.

You were forced into a beautiful, pale dress – the fabric as thin as a sheer curtain – after your bath. The maids obviously did not provide you with anything which could conceal your body in the see through white dress. It had embroidery done on the front, so it somewhat worked to cover your breasts.

But the longer it extended, the more it revealed everything underneath.

Pieces of your wavy dark hair were pinned behind, some braided with silver rings clipped around.

The maids soon excused themselves, leaving you to your solitude. Your body felt cold from the lack of clothes so you moved over to stand before the fireplace. Arms sliding up and down your frame to warm up yourself.

Truth to be told, you were suffering with trepidation. Were you prepared to sleep, to head to bed? But why in Aemond’s chambers? All sorts of vile and impure thoughts came rushing in your mind as you tried to keep them at bay.

The doors were soon opened and there stood Aemond, in a different set of clothes. You immediately stepped back, albeit him standing far away from you. He noticed that but no matter how many walls you tried to build between you two, Aemond was determined to break and crush each and every one of those.

He appeared enamored with you.

You were nothing less than an angel, standing underneath the moonlight illuminating your frame.

“Is this what you brought me here for, Prince Regent? To dress me up and warm your bed late at night?” You questioned with disgust and Aemond stepped froward.

You immediately retreated. “Do not dare to come any closer. I will not be one of your whores.”

“What makes you think I would let you become one of my whores?” Aemond asked with a soft tone. Your beauty had soothed all his irritation but it also ignited a fire within his core.

“You're a monster.” You whispered. “You have become a tyrant, a beast worse than those dragons of yours. It is a pity.”

Aemond was losing his patience with you. He didn't waste time, snapping and running towards you. The man pinned you against the wall, knocking over a vase resting on a table besides you. Pain bloomed in your back from the hardness of the wall — and being slammed into it.

The targaryen man locked eyes with you and let out a smile of satisfaction, witnessing the fear swimming in your innocent gaze. “Pity? You dare pity me when you are left with nothing of your house, nothing.”

The cruel reminder caused tears to well up in your eyes but your gaze stayed locked with Aemond’s. It did not waver and with all your strength, you pushed him away from you.

“I hate you.” You confessed, tears sliding down your face, a testament to the pain you were battling. “You were my friend, my fucking friend. How could you do this to me, to me? Your fucking Dōna, Aemond.”

When he heard the high valyrian word escape your lips, he growled. You saw him take a step further and this time decided to make a run for the door, trying to crawl over the bed hastily but Aemond was fast, vigilant as he grabbed you.

You fought back, slapping and punching him but it didn't work at all. He shoved his lips against yours and he did not care that you didn't want this. He wanted it, that was all that mattered. Aemond’s tongue forcefully entered your mouth as your hands continuously punched his chest.

He pushed you down on the both whilst staying locked to you, tasting your plump lips with vigor.

Head tilted, he pushed open your thighs and buried his knee between them. Rutting it against your cunt and you released a muffled cry in the liplock, hoping he would show some mercy but Aemond was too far gone.

The pressure on your clit – sheer fabric the cause of you and Aemond’s separation – was intense. A burgeoning need lighting up in your core as you struggled. There was no way you would give in, no matter how much you had admired him when you both were children. You knew better. You were only the daughter of some lord, meanwhile he was the Prince.

The fight for dominance was already won by Aemond as his tongue explored the inside of your sweet flesh. He broke apart from you to gaze upon you, a mess he'd turned you into. Face flushed, lips swollen and bloodied from how harshly he had sunk his canines into them.

Your dark hair with glinting silver in pure disarray, spread about everywhere on the bed. Aemond was fucking drunk and there was no stopping him.

“You said I'm a monster, right?” His voice was eerily low, causing you to panic. “I shall show you what monstrosity I am capable of.”

He tore the dress in a single tug, discarding the two pieces somewhere on the ground. Fear evident in your enlarged eyes as you struggled to conceal yourself with your arms but Aemond held them above your head, his fingers roughly pressing into your skin leaving marks.

“Aemond, please.” Tears fell and Aemond nearly softened.

If you'd been kind to him like how you were in the past, this compromising situation wouldn't have fallen you. He would've let you live, be a maid in the red keep but now, he had to prove it to you.

Just what he was capable of.

“Aemond,” you sweetly called out, hoping it would work. “My prince, don't do this. You do not wish to do this.”

“Too late for that sweet tone, my lady. If you do not wish for worse, I suggest you shut your goddamn mouth and take it.” His voice was so soft, so low but his words were as repulsive and cruel. It was what Aemond had become. A broken boy who sought out solace but was too afraid to ask for it, fearful of seeming weak — yet again becoming a target of his brother’s constant bullying.

In the process of becoming what he hated, Aemond lost you too.

One eye raked over your exposed breasts, full and round. You were no longer the little girl who used to chase him around the red keep, in her long dresses. You had flourished, flowered with grown tits and when his eye fell lower, he inhaled sharply. Plush, meaty thighs greeted them. He recalled how at one point you were as skinny as a boy, with no fat to your lean frame.

Now you had blossomed in a beautiful woman.

Your skin glowed neath the moonlight, your presence basking in its light. It showcased all the little minorities your features carried, what you had become, the delicate beauty that you were.

“You are certainly no little girl no more.” He reminded you, words no less than salt over your sounds.

Tears pearled on your waterline. “And you've grown into a fine man yourself.”

Your words were carried on obvious pain and Aemond pretended he did not catch a whiff of that. You continued, with a wavering voice, drained from all your rebellion and fight. “Fine but cruel, Aemond. I thought you were different, ought to be different. You proved me wrong.”

“Keep your lips sealed.” Aemond commanded, as your words nearly made his will to defile you falter. Being the daughter of a high lord, he was certain your maidenhead was still intact. You were never the type to engage in lecherous actions before the pure promise of a marriage.

Aemond’s rough hands took a handful of your breasts, fondling the fat. Thumbs swiping over your peebles, sending them upright. Undeniable pleasure shot through your body in the form of swarming heat as it settled in your lower stomach. A prominent gasp tore from your parted, swollen lips as Aemond stared at you in adoration.

“They are so full.” His comment about your body your pleasure-clad face form into one of grimace. “I wonder how your cunt looks now that you are older. You were always too innocent to consider our friendship anything more than what it was.”

Your back arched off the bed, the writhing of your hips increasing whenever Aemond rubbed his knee over your tiny pearl. You felt it swell up with need and wanton, a dull ache growing, begging to be burned out. The silver haired male pried your thighs open to lay eye on your pink cunt.

Aemond licked a wet tongue over his lips, his hunger to taste your seemingly delicious core pressing at him. He never once got overwhelmed with the urge to put his mouth on a woman's cunt — as the woman he got involved with whores. He had no interest in tasting something where most men found solace in.

But you were a virgin.

He knew that.

Yet he asked, surely to rile you up. “Has anyone been inside of you yet?”

Your eyes widened at the repulsive question of his. Brows scrunching in disgust and the rosette on your cheeks transcending into beetroot. Before you could control your imminent action, a strike echoed in the chambers. Tears had stalled, replaced with a hateful searing look and when Aemond recovered from the slap and faced you, chills enveloped you. Despite the impact, he was still poised. Eyes sheened with darkness and pure rage, his hand moved to reciprocate the harsh movement.

Only his slap hurt more — a scorching sensation awakening below your skin. A hint of red in the form of a hand imprinted on your face.

“Answer my question.”

You shook your head. Not only had the slap worked wonders to make you more pliant, it also made you realize that what Aemond was capable of.

His fingers ran along the line of your plumped up lips. “Use this pretty mouth of yours.”

“I'm not a low born.” You said through gritted teeth. “I'm chaste. Check for yourself if you are disbelieving of me.”

Aemond let out a scoff, fingers dimpling into your cheeks. The angry pout on your lips along with his hand print left behind on your cheek made you look ten times more endearing to him. “That I plan on doing, my lady.”

Hands lowering to your thighs, fingers dipping in the thickness. Aemond nestled his head between them, eyes gliding over your glistening cunt. It was true that you were still chaste and he was sure of it, there was no need to check it. He softly ran his tongue over your pearl, a sharp breath from you entering his ears.

“I don't want this.” Your tone had a hint of plea in it. “Please, Aemond. It is too repulsive, I cannot—”

Aemond growled. “Cannot, what? You cannot allow my cock inside you? Cannot allow me to put a babe in you? Or won't allow me to simply because I'm Aemond.”

“Targaryen with the largest dragon who put an end to my family line.” You finished, vision blurring. Aemond knew this conversation was pointless to carry and he instead closed his lips around your swollen bud, suckling like it would produce the sweetest of nectars in existence.

You tried to fight him off, pushing at his shoulders with the little strength left in your small fingers to no avail. He sucked with great vigor and your demeanor fell — back rising up from the ruined mattress and hips pushing your mound further into his cage. He pulled back, lapping at your swollen clit over and over again, like a dog in heat. Tears furiously caressed down your face as Aemond’s fingers came to collect your arousal from the center of your folds.

By the Gods, you were a waterfall.

“Never did I think I would grow this addicted to the taste of a woman's cunt.” Aemond whispered, his warm breath shooting jolts of pleasure through you. Your hand on its own accord pressed onto his head, palm flaccid and fingers twisting his Targaryen strands around. “The more I taste you, the more famished I become.”

“G-Get off me.” You somehow managed to utter. You were mortified. How your body ached for him to continue, hand forcing his mouth against your hot heat whilst the heavy fists of your morals thudded on the door of your hazed mind.

All but a futile endeavor to fight back.

Aemond pulled back and reached for his slacks, undoing them. You watched with a dazed out look as he released his cock from the confines of his breeches. His fingers moving to curve under the hem of his shirt, ridding himself of the leather as well as his small clothes.

Left bare and naked before you, your gaze caught Aemond’s searing red cock. Head swollen and shining with leaking cum, veins traced up and down. You closed your eyes, in hopes that the nightmare before you would be over but that was only you losing last remnants of your hope.

“I-It won't fit.” You whispered to yourself, more tears sliding down your temples.

Aemond heard it, despite your voice being a low whisper. He reached over to grab your face between his large hand, fingers sinking into your cheeks. That caused you to flutter your weak lids open, staring back at him with a sheen in your pupils. “It will fit. Your maidenhead is still intact, so it might be painful. But who cares?”

Your bottom lip quivered as Aemond let go, holding his cock. He guided it across your wet slit, pushing its thick head past your folds and pressing into your pearl. Your breath was bated, perspiration dancing on your forehead. Your body had grown completely warm and you wished for someone, anyone to burn down the fire which was ignited in the fireplace.

Aemond gathered your arousal, in soft circulation around your pebble. You whined out, hands slapping at his broad shoulders to put an end to his obscenities. Yet he did not falter, will growing more profound and strengthened to a point of no return.

He soon aligned his cock along your hole with the disgusting intention to defile it and slipped in. Your walls squeezing around his cock head tightly, endeavoring to grow used to the size but Aemond did not wait. He pushed and your tears of sadness had now transformed into tears of pain.

Hot searing pain.

“It hurts, it hurts. Let me go, please let me go.” You cried, screamed even, nails scratching rapidly at his chest. You left evidence of your firmness, of your distaste for such degeneration. Long lacerations formed on a pale canvas as Aemond held you down with one hand circled around your throat while the other had pushed your leg up for more easy and open access.

You were crying relentlessly and it was beginning to annoy the young Prince. “Quiet now, or I will have your tongue.”

“I-It is too p-painful.” You sobbed and this time Aemond landed a tight slap to your other cheek, watching it imitate the shade of the other one. “I said, fucking quiet. If I hear anything other than sounds of pleasure out of these lips of yours, I will toss you to my guards.”

It was an empty threat.

Aemond would never, ever do that. You were for him, only him. Insignificant your view was about him.

You were his prize, a sign of victory.

Still Aemond stalled, not having the heart to pummel his cock fully into you. All he managed was to breach your maidenhead and you were already wailing like you'd been shot with an arrow. He waited it out, letting you grow accustomed to his length and thickness.

Once your agony-clad face recovered and softened, Aemond took it as a sign to move further. Your gummy walls sucking his cock in, caressing the rigid veins. Deeper, and deeper. He went slowly and carefully, which you didn't overlook. You felt him sheath his cock fully into you, arms extended out for him, in complete submission.

Aemond, silently surprised by such vulnerability and submission, took your hands into his and brought them to his nape. “Hold me, brace yourself, Dōna.”

That sweet tone of his.

It nearly warmed your heart but the constant reminder which took at Harrenhal haunted you like a ghost. A cursed bestowed upon you, no escape at all. Aemond melted within you, nestling against your spongey spot of nerves. Your lips fell when he found that sensitive spot of yours.

He didn't waste time pummeling his cock into your weeping cunt, growls of a beast escaping him. You could not bring yourself to look at him. Pulling him closer, you concealed your face within the crook of his neck as your hold clasped around his slender nape — fingers intertwining with silver roots. Aemond had only tried Sylvie, his first and last so when he felt you draw him closer, it ignited a fire impossible to end.

“Gods,” Aemond groaned in your ear, his sharp nose running along your cheek, both hands gripping your flesh. “If I had known laying with you would be this pleasurable, I would have done it when we were younglings.”

Disgust would have made path on yout face it it was not for the pleasure Aemond bestowed upon you. His thick cock head repeatedly bruised your cervix and all you could do was wail, your hold for dear life tightening around him. Aemond found delight on your innocent moans, your sweet little hiccups and sounds of pleasure. He pulled from you, to glance down and felt immense satisfaction at the ring of blood around his length. He had officially taken you, not exactly under the circumstances he wanted but pondering about that was futile now.

His one eye stayed focused on you. Examining the lines donning your forehead, dark brows furrowed and a sheen of sweat sitting on your forehead. Pale cheeks flustered and saccharine sweet lips parted, birthing little sounds.

An epitome of nobility and charm you were.

Aemond pulled out of you, just as you were beginning to reach your pounding climax.

He leaned on the head board of the bed, chest glistening with droplets of sweat. The fire crackling was not helping neither of you to find some cold. “Get on top of me.”

You weakly shook your head.

Aemond’s glare obliged you and you shifted on the bed, crawling on top of him. In the process, you caught the blood of your purity staining the pale bed sheets, as well as your thighs. A burning sensation prodded and you finally did what Aemond asked you to do. The evil man grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“I'm sure you know your job here.”

Your lips trembled. “I-I am supposed to sit on it?”

Innocently you had voiced that question and Aemond almost cooed. He gave you a simple nod and watched as your cheeks burned with newfound embarrassment. You still did what you were told to, aware that fighting him back on this would only make him revoke the small kindness he'd shown you.

You grabbed a hold of his erect cock — pressing it over your soaked hole. As you slipped down on it, Aemond and you groaned in unison.

Your small hands found support on his bleeding chest, fingers swiping over his nipples accidentally and Aemond let out a choked gasp. The feeling of your walls clamping his cock mixed with the way your fingers brushed over his nipples was enough to send him fucking into you. Thrusting upwards into you while his large hand stayed locked on your hip.

Both of you moved simultaneously, greedily chasing after your own pleasure. Aemond saw a goddess in front of him — a weeping goddess who possessed the cunt of a hungry whore. Your small waist and bare tits bouncing with each move had him obsessed like a dog.

“Fuck, fuck, Dōna.”

He panted like his dragon, matching your pace with his, hand fondling your breasts. He was close but ripping an orgasm through you first was his priority and he was dedicated to it. Aemond felt your cunt squeeze him, watching as your tears fell in little pearls. “I am going to put a babe in you, Dōna. Can you believe it? Your childhood friend putting a babe in you.”

You couldn't even voice out your disagreement, Aemond was bound to do what he promised you. An intense feeling surged in your stomach, your pace slowing down and your sobbing growing more and more. Your orgasm tore through you in the form of essence, as your eyes disappeared behind your lids.

“Aemond, Aemond! Aemond.” You chanted his name out like a mantra and he slapped his cock deeper into you.

He fucking loved how submissive you were being now — entirely at his mercy and neath him. His own climax followed thoroughly, filling your walls with his spend. Spurting our rope after rope of white to fill up your expanded womb. Growls of need and ache echoed in the room and you couldn't stay still anymore, losing all your balance and colliding right in his chest.

Your little body was spent, fatigue and tiredness weakening you. Aemond was quick to wrap his arms around you, shushing you gently while you cried in his chest.

“It's over now.” He reassured but you knew very well that it was not. It was only for tonight that it was over.

Aemond comforted you, holding you against him with his cock still inside you.

“I hate you.” You cried, tears coating his chest as your forehead rested on his muscular chest. Aemond could only sigh, loathing the situation that bad befallen them. He did not resent you as you were the only one who had shown him true kindness.

But the war and throne were far more important.

“Rest, you need it.” He said, an order it was and you felt forced to comply. “Things will be very different from now on, Dōna. I will have the high sept marry us tomorrow, our child will not be a bastard.”

All you could do was weakly stir in his arms at that. There was no way you were willing but it was better than being a slave for Aemond’s guards. Being one man's whore was better than being a thousand’s.

god fucking dammit, please one chance

Cowboy aemond and oc!!!

ANGELS OF PORN

DARK! Aemond x pornstar! Reader

$10,000 LOOKING FOR DOED EYED PRETTY GIRL WHO WANTS TO MAKE A QUICK BUCK. ONE TIME PORNO, MUST BE OKAY WITH LIGHT SLAPPING, ROUGH SEX AND CHOKING. SEND A PHOTO.

WARNINGS; rough sex, slapping, choking, major character death. blood, oral? mood board

He's watching you undress in the back of the RV through the mirror, It's all hazy. Pulling on white socks, frills spilling over the brown couch in the back. ‘Trailer trash scum’ is what Aegon said, pressing white knuckles into the steering wheel, as he huffed onto a cigarette. He couldn't wait to see your blood spill over the pretty whites. He's not religious but he could see himself worshipping your body, under tight lips and pretty prayers. Rotten. Groomed into a cult over Myspace and 4chan. He piqued his own interest after seeing the gore videos of pretty girls' necks slashed open in orgasm. La petite mort. He wants to see how far Aegon is gonna take it.  And now you're living and breathing in front of him. Thick ringlets, soft perfumed skin, He starts to wonder if he can go through with it. You smile at him as you catch his eye. 

Ten grand for a porno on Craigslist, an hour after the ad had come up your pretty picture had been burned into the cornea of Aemonds eye. The Perfect slut. Pink-lipped, wide-eyed doll. Picked up at the gas station. He watched you hum into a cigarette, your eyes trailing over him. He waited for the disgust to glaze across your eyes, but you pulled him into a handshake. Winking as you hopped into the RV with a sway of hips. Aegon only grinned up at him. Gapped teeth. He ran his hand over his shaved head. Stretching his arms out and then pulling straights out of his cargo. 

You run your hand over Aemonds shoulder, head dipping into the crook of his neck and pulling his lighter into your hand. He swallows, you watch his shoulders fall and he unzips his Adidas jacket as the aircon falters. He shrugs it off. You light your cigarette and then stare into Aegons eyes, crinkled at the corners he's smirking to himself. You're thinking he's ex-army, wearing a tribal band around his arm, smooth and precise movements. 

“What you gonna do with’the money?” Aegon mutters. His fingers are pointed as he takes the ciggie into his mouth, lips snarling as the smoke escapes, you watch the muscles in his arm flex. 

Your glossed lips part, “put’a bad man away” 

“Get a lawyer, huh?” Aegon hums, he rolls the window down, and spits, throwing the butt out the window with it. You watch Aemonds face. He stares back at you through a half-lidded eye, you smirk down at him. Watching his fingers clench at his hoodie.

“Som’thin like that” you smile, and you pull away from Aemond, lighting your own cigarette. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke through parted lips. His gaze never leaving yours, the silence between you heavy. Aemond reaches a hand out to the radio, Dolly Parton filling the silence. He looks up to the mirror, eye fixed on your body as you walk away. Hips shifting the denim shorts you're wearing. You lean over the counter and pull out some mascara from your bag. The RV sways on the uneven road. Lurching to the side, Aemond grips onto the seat and watches you unfazed through the mirror. You smile, shiny white teeth, lopsided grin as you apply blush to the end of your nose, his lip curling into a smirk at the sight of your infectious grin. He finds it amusing, the contrast between the innocent action and the situation you're in.

Aegon pulls into the 24-hour Diner by the highway, The neon sign buzzing like trapped flies. He watches as Aegon shuts off the ignition. The hum of the engine dying out. The Diner is half empty, the bell ringing against the sound of patrons chattering in the night. Aemond can feel the anticipation building in his chest. They had discussed a last meal before the cameras had switched on, and the time had come quicker than expected. Heat pools in Aemond's stomach, and his hands shake with excitement. Aegon opens the driver's door and steps out, the night air rushing in with him. He stretches, his shirt rides up, and exposes the lower part of his back as his muscles tense. Aemond's eyes flick back to you. He watches you watching Aegon through the mirror. He can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance, a brief pang of possessiveness that he quickly shoves down. You smile at him, stepping out of the RV. Cool air tousling your hair. Skin bright against the neon sign. He follows you out. Gravel crunching under his shoe. 

Warm cheap food fills your nose. Your shoes squeak against the linoleum tiles as you slip into a red booth. You're bathed in yellow light, pressing shoulder blades into the cool leather. Aegon follows sitting opposite you, Aemond sliding next to him. You run your hand over the sticky table, waiting for someone to take your order. Lips pouting. A waitress approaches the table, her expression bored and tired, but her eyes widen as she looks at you, taking in your looks and the way you're dressed. Aemond can see the way her cheeks flush slightly, the way she fumbles with her pen as she turns to the three of you. "What can I get ya'll?" She asks, her voice a southern drawl.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes running over the food kept behind glass, “A slice of that cherry pie and some coffee please” you smile sweetly. 

She turns to Aegon, his fingers drumming against the table. Her eyes flickered over the tight muscles under his green shirt. “For you hun?” 

“Bacon and egg sandwich extra runny” he grunts, eyebrow raising. 

Her eyes turn to Aemond, he orders an omelet and a coffee, voice low and soft. The waitress leaves, feet pattering against the floor as she hurries off. Aegon lets out a low whistle, eyes raking across your body. 

“You're just as pretty as your picture aren't you?” Aegon mutters, his head nodding at you. He's practically salivating over you, eyes hungry. You look at Aemond watching as he clenches his jaw tighter. Aegon laughs, a sound deep and guttural. He leans across the booth, his hands wrapping around the edges, his face just inches away from yours. He's invading your space, but you don't flinch, your expression bored, almost amused. He sticks his tongue out, letting it linger over his bottom lip as he grins. "Sweet little thing like you, huh?" He coos. 

“I'm not that sweet’can tell you that now” you smirk, eyelashes batting across your cheeks. 

You watch as Aegon’s grin widens he lets out a low chuckle. “Bet you taste real sweet though” his eyes dance over your body. Aemond clenches his hands under the table, knuckles turning white. He notices the way you handle his crude advances. Not bothered by dirty innuendos. 

The waitress sets down the food without care, plates loudly clattering against the table top. Aegon barely acknowledges her, gaze still fixed on you. You stare ahead, lips pursed. You sip on your coffee unbothered "Ain't gonna eat, darlin'?" Aegon asks, finally breaking his gaze to look at his food. His tone is laced with an underlying darkness, a hint of danger. Aemond can tell he's getting impatient, his fingers drumming against the table.

“I like getting fucked on an empty stomach” you smile. Aemond pauses, fork midway to his mouth he's barely digested your words before Aegon snorting with laughter. Slapping his knee at the comment. Eyes glittering with sick excitement. You're starting to get real bored with Aegon, it's one crude comment after another. The pattern has already been memorised in your head. You roll your eyes. “I'm gonna go to the ladies” you slide out the booth hand brushing over Aemond’s shoulder. He watches you slip to the side to let a lady exit the toilets, then you duck behind the door yourself. 

Aegon turns back to his meal. Shoving bacon and egg into his mouth. Yolk escapes the corner of his lips. He chews obnoxiously. “Cant wait to fuckin kill’her” he mutters, sly grin playing on his lips. “Make our own fucking movie for those sick freaks” Aemond only nods in return. 

“Too bad Reaper couldn't make it”

You walk back to the booth, shrugging on a small knit jumper. Aegon slaps down bills on the table, they exit the dinner and you trail behind them as you light another cigarette. Orange embers glowing in the darkness. Aegon leads the way, keys jangling in his hand. You step into the RV, air humid. Aegon follows, Aemond shuts the door behind him. He feels his heart thudding against his chest. 

The RV engine rumbles to life, and the vehicle lurches forward. Headlights pierce through the darkness, bathing the road in a pale glow. The trees on either side of the road cast long, sinister shadows against your face as Aegon drives further into the slip road of the forest. 

You gaze up at Aemond, his dark gaze locking with yours. He watches you intently. The RV is quiet except for the hum of the engine and the soft sound of you exhaling smoke from your cigarette. The engine falls silent, as you pull up onto gravel, Aegon is the first to get up, seat creaking as he stands. Aemond waits, his muscles tensed, his eyes fixed on you. You extinguish your cigarette in the small ash-tray, the smoke curling up towards the low ceiling. You seem unfazed by the situation, your eyes still fixed on Aemond as you rise from the sofa. Aegon turns on the headlights and the area is flooded with a harsh, artificial light, he's already opening the rv door. The cool night air flooding into the vehicle. The light from outside casts a rectangle of light on the carpeted floor, illuminating the space in a pale, artificial glow.

You're standing in the middle of a small clearing, the trees like black sentinels around you. You look like a creature of the night, the shadows dancing across your face. Angelic even.He grins, his eyes roving over you like a wolf sizing up its prey, watching you run and strip off layers of clothing, tossing them aside. Standing there in nothing but your white lace underwear, your body fully exposed in the harsh light.

Aemond watches from outside the RV, his eyes growing dark as he takes in the sight. His jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists. He knows what's coming, he feels his blood boil in excitement. Blood thirsty. Aemond moves towards you, his hands grazing over your bare skin. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he's touching something he shouldn't. Despite the situation, he can't help but feel a sense of possession, a need to protect you. He steps behind you, his chest brushing against your back. He places his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “Are we rollin’ yet?” you ask. Pulling loose hairs away from your face. 

Aemond's face disappears behind a black ski mask, his features obscured in shadow. He pulls the fabric taut, making sure it covers every inch of his face. He looks different now, the mask making him seem dangerous, savage. His eyes burn with a cold, detached anger, a stark contrast to his gentle touch on your skin. You pant against his touch, mewling in soft brushes. Turning to face him. 

“We are now sweetheart” Aegon mutters, you watch his eyes disappear behind a vhs camcorder.

Aemond's breath hitches as your lips caress his neck. He can feel your hot breath on his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. His hands on your hips tighten, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

The camera recording every gasp and sigh. You're putting on a show for it, for Aegon, for Aemond.

Your hand slides beneath Aemond's wife beater, your fingers caressing his bare skin. His grip on you tightens, his muscles taut under your touch. A soft moan escapes his lips, muffled by the ski mask. 

You smile up at him. Flashy shiny whites. He runs a hand over your cheek. Your face presses into it. And then he's yanking his hand back, snapping against you cheek in a sharp movement. Your head is snapped to the side. You look up and smile at him through wet eyelashes. A silent plea for more. Your cheek is hot against his palm.

“Shit that's hot”, Aegon mutters. You don't look at him, all your attention is on Aemond. You watch his mask shift, muscles moving under the black fabric. His face moves closer to yours, your arms wrap around his neck, peppering kisses over black cotton, you feel him smirk against your lips. His hands grab at your wrists from behind and suddenly he's wrestling you to the ground. You whine, pressed into the mud, you feel aemond’s body from behind. Belt buckle stabbing into your lower back. Your feet kick upwards. His leg pins you to the ground. You squirm beneath him, your ass grinding into his crotch. Aemond lets out a soft hiss. Your every movement driving him wild. You feel his body responding to your touch. His cargos grow tighter and you feel his hardness press into you from behind. You smirk. He fights the urge to grind down on you. 

“Dirty, Fucken’slut huh” he mutters, his hands tracing your spine, pushing you into the grass. Your head turns to the side, revealing a sly grin. You hum in agreement. Growing limp in his arms, and then you pout up the camera, eyebrows raising, your lip shakes. He watches Aegon. He clenches his jaw, watching in anticipation, chest rising quicker as you bite your lip up at him. 

“Keep goin”Aegon barks out. The red light flashes towards you. You feel Aemonds grip grow tighter.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” You taunt. Your hips jerk backwards, Brushing against his hard cock “ I know you want to” you sing out, it's like a melody to his ears. He flips your body in response. Back hitting the grass. Your hair lays out like a halo behind you. You run your hands over his chest and press kisses into his neck. Watching as he unbuckles his belt hastley. You nip and bite at warm flesh, pulling your legs from underneath him, brushing past his dick. He lets out a soft hiss. Pulling your body towards him. He sheds your panties and bra. Groping at the flesh he's unveiled. You look so radiant like this. Skin glowing under the headlights of the RV. The tension is palpable between you. He imagines slicing through your skin with a knife and burying his hand inside to feel the heat of your heart. Feel its last beats drum through your chest.

Not yet. 

His cock runs through your wetness, your back arches against him, feeling the head of his dick knock against your clit, his hand runs up the column of your chest and settles on your neck. He pushes into you, slitting you apart with his thickness, you hum at the intrusion. Wide mouth, eyes closed. His hand squeezes at the base of your neck, you feel the blood flow to your head lessen. Dizzy in his hold. He moves slowly. Torturously slow, head knocking against your cervix. You wince. And then feel his cock slide against the gummy walls. He's quicker driving into you with such force you feel what little air you have get knocked out of you. He grunts against your neck, your eyes water. Feeling the camera closer to your face. You fake a moan. Running your hand down the side of your face and then down Aemonds back scratching at taunt muscles

Laid out like a sacrificial lamb pliant and malleable under his hands. The type of innocence that bites back. “Fuck” you moan out from under him, griping him tightly. You feel him pulse. Hips snapping, into yours, your face reddens. His vice grip around your neck softens, and he pushes two fingers inside your mouth,

. Aegon watches as he smears spit around your face, trailing the wetness down your neck and the valley of your breasts. 

“Shit, tight fucking pussy”Aemond moans, low and deep. You're turned on your back, and he slams himself back into you, arm around your waist the other makes its way to your neck, back arching till you're propped up against his chest, head lulling in the crooks of his neck. Sweaty bodies against each other,You tighten around him as he coos at your whines. “You close huh” 

You smile against him. “yeah, fuck so good” it rolls of your toungue so quickly, you squeak. He grips your throat and you watch as Aegon nods at him. You turn to Aemond staring into his eyes. His hips falter. Eyes shutting quickly but his hands don't leave you. Grunting as he comes, And then you look back to Aegon eyes running over his body, he's hard. Your eyebrow raises at him. “You gonna let me suck your dick?” you bat your lashes watching Aegon smirk. Aemonds hands tighten on your body at your words, hands slipping down to rub your clit in tight circles. Your eyes roll backwards, body shaking with blissful pleasure. You come down from your high. Aemonds hand runs down your sweaty face, his eyes darken as they watch Aegon pull his cock out from his cargos. You crawl over to him. Eyes on the camera. You kneel at his feet, the cameras passed into Aemonds hands. It just cuts off his face. 

You run your hands over his body, pressing kisses down his pelvis. Then you shrug his cargos half down his legs, he beacons Ameond closer with the camera as you stare up at him. Running your tongue against the length of his cock. He pushes your head closer to his dick. Aemond watches as your hands grab at something, but your face remains stotic, too involved with Aegon's dick. He clenches his jaw and suddenly Aegons falling backwards onto the grass, something running down his leg and then he spots it. Shiny silver. 

The buck Aegon chose a week ago in the hunting store. His eyes widen, his hands falter with the camera. He watches you straddle him, you look back at Aemond, your face stern. “Come on, keep the tape rolling I thought you wanted to make a snuff film” your head cocks to the side running your hand over Aegon's lips. You smile down at him. Your hand reaches behind you to the leather handle of the knife. He yelps as it slides to the side in his skin. And then you're yanking it side to side,out from his leg. He whimpers in pain, hands going out to grab at your hair. You push the knife to his neck, Aemond stands moving closer to you. Camera shaking in his hand. He's so bewildered by what's before him he doesn't even think to knock you off his brother's lap. Not that he'd want to.

He watches the blood spurt out of his leg angrily,“Who the fuck are you?” Aegon gasps. Your mouth curves into a smile. The knife traces the column of his neck , over his Adam's apple. You watch thin dribbles of blood mark up the white expanse of his neck. Your body shadows over his face. Perfect silhouette encased in a halo of light. “Aemond do something!” his eyes flick towards his brother. And your hand grips his chin harshly pulling him up until the knife is digging into his neck. 

“Your brother is too pussy drunk to help.” you look into Aegons eyes, perfect swirls of purple, his face pale and sweaty, “Isn't it so sweet? He would have thrown a punch if I asked, hours before I let him have a taste” you chuckle at your words. Reaching behind you to plunge fingers into the open wound. He screams out at the intrusion. Tears escaping his eyes. You push a finger into your mouth and then pull it out with a pop  “see i’d lie and say you tasted so sweet, real sweet. But you’re fucking rotten” you spit. 

You stand. Running your hands through your hair. The movement is soft and innocent in contrast to what you've done, you sigh. Turning to Aemond, your eyes softening. Your hand peels off the ski mask. Your hand smooths his hair back tenderly, “Like we planned, yeah?” you smile and then your hand traces over the scar he was left. He smiles, eyes closing at your touch. Hand reaching out to pull the knife from your hand.

“You fucking planned this!” Aegon shouts at the realisation, his face is pale at the blood loss, and Aemond drops the camera in response. He turns to you, capturing your lips quickly. He can taste the blood on his tongue. Warm, metallic. You're right, he is rotten. He smirks and turns to his brother. He grips the knife tightly in his hand. You press a kiss to his shoulder and them watch him stalk over to him.

The camera is heavy in your hands as you lift it from the grass. You kneel next to Aegon. Aemond grips at his hair pulling him from the ground and then lets the knife cut through his skin like paper. You watch Aegon panic. His hands reaching out to stop the bleeding but they only fall into his lap. The blood falls like a red scarf. Coating the grass and his body like blanket. And then his eyes still. His lips left open in a wide panic. Aemond drops his body to the floor. Hand grasping for yours. He pulls you in for a kiss over his body. You feel him shake in euphoria. Hands running down the length of your bare body

He pulls away“ I don't want anyone touching you again” his hand leaves a bloody print against your cheek. “Got it, Reaper?”

You smirk up at him. “Yeah.” 

You pull your hand towards your face, it still stinks of lye as much as you scrub at it. You inhale the cigarette, eyes glazing over to Aemond, one hand on the wheel. The other runs against the soft flesh of your thigh. You smile at his touch. Hand clasping as his own. The sun casts a honey light on his face, hair lighting up golden. The RV pulls up along the side of the road and he pounces on you like a dog. “Fuckin’ perfect, and all for me”

@spn-obession

ANGELS OF PORN

$10,000

LOOKING FOR DOED EYED PRETTY GIRL WHO WANTS TO MAKE A QUICK BUCK. ONE TIME PORNO, MUST BE OKAY WITH LIGHT SLAPPING, ROUGH SEX AND CHOKING. SEND A PHOTO.

In the heat of the floridian summer your picked up in a RV with two strangers and the promise of 10 grand lining your pockets after a night. Two bad one of you isn’t making it out alive.

dark!aemond x reader

read here!!

FLAWLESS

warnings:smut, drug use. 18+ only please The bear but it's actually just linecook!Aemond x hostess!reader.  porn w a plot.

no beta we die or whatever

2014-7:40 Pm. 

You stand at the hostess stand, looking over the Ipad for reservations, you're absolutely swamped, it's a Saturday night in Knightsbridge, London. Barely seconds pass before the phone rings again, it's the same conversation you've had every weekend for the past year. “Sorry we’re fully booked!” 

“Do you know who I am?” 

“Yes! And here at RedKeep we thank you for being a loyal customer~” 

“I want to speak to the manager!”

 “Sorry the managers not here right now”

“Then who's next in charge?” Queue you, grabbing Daemon from the office, where he completely undermines what you're saying to the customer, allowing them to take a reservation from some poor couple who had saved up their money to taste the food from RedKeep, because it is good for business. 

Keep the loyal customers, he says, fucking asshole. You watch their smug faces grin as they walk in, pressed white shirts and silk dresses they didn’t fish out the bin from the local Guild care. Sometimes you smile and make your accent slightly deeper as you lead them to their seats. Other times you let them know it's you and lead them to the table directly by the bar, letting them hear the utter nonsense that Criston and Aegon spill behind the bar all night. 

But you always retreat to the back for your five minute smoke break, snatching the Marlboro reds from the office, Daemon winking at you as you shove your coat on in the winter. You let yourself breath in the only thing that keeps you going through your shift, music blasting from the shitty headphones that came with your phone and then crush half of it between the sole of your black doc martens, straightening out your black silky blouse, and wandering through the kitchen back to your stand, where you greet another customer with a smile faker than the diamond rings that protrude off the women's fingers.

You rub the tiger balm into the crook of your neck in the changing room, its 10:00 pm, kitchen closed about half an hour ago, and the chef’s are scrubbing the floor down on their knees, you thank god the only thing you have to do is inform Daemon of the reservations for the next week, fully booked until next august, they usually go down about then, people retreat to France and Italy for summer. Your shifts go down and you tutor rich brats who are failing their GCSEs. Spending summers writing essays about Macbeth for fourteen year olds who find nothing better to do than take their daddy's golf cart for a ride around their ridiculously huge back gardens in sussex.  

You hum to yourself, slipping of your blouse, the door opens and then is slammed shut. You turn, half naked in the changing room, your locker swinging open, Aemond stands with his nose pressed into his locker, you change into a band shirt and pleated skirt, pulling on high denier tights. “Are you coming tonight?” he whispers, it's soft, you watch him pull out his bag as you re-lace your boots. 

“Yeah, did Aegon get the weed?” you ask quietly, boots thumping against the floor as you stand, you grab your backpack from the floor, shutting your locker. 

“No Cregan did” Aemonds back ripples as he pulls on a black shirt, you watch his tattoos shift under it, he grabs his motorcycle helmet out of the locker, eye shifting to yours. You go to stand next to him. He pulls out a pack of Marlboro reds, original packaging, you wonder if they're fake, but the Polish words stare back at you, “want one?” he slips one into the corner of his mouth, pulling on his jacket.

You swallow, “Yes please” you take the cigarette and push it behind your ear, walking to the door. He follows. You push open the door, stepping out into the hallway, Daemon stands in the kitchen watching Rhaenrya sharpen the knives. You still refuse to believe they were ever married, her dad and him were such close friends it was borderline Insestuous. “I'm glad Cregan got it, Aegon always choses really weird strains, like unicorn poop? What is that?” 

Aemond shrugs and follows you out the back, you wave to Daemon and Nyra, door slamming behind you. Cregan and Aegon wait by your car, its scratched to fuck. From where Aegon had slammed the door into the tree. You don't even know why you own a car anymore, parking is so expensive in London, you only use it to get to work and home. You watch Aemond shove his helmet on and then leave the car park. Unlocking your car and letting the boys pile in. 

Cregan hits his head on the ceiling and Aegon falls into a mess of giggles in the back. You breathe in the scent of cherry, air freshener hanging from the mirror, Some arctic monkey's song comes on from the aux. You look to your left, Cregans on tinder replying to some bird. It would be rude to call him a slut but he gets around, he got some bird up north pregnant and now he has to send up money every month for a two year old he barely sees. You pull out, switching gears before starting your journey to Aegon's place it’s about half an hour drive into camden, you pass the punks on the bridge and pull in to the slip where Aegon's flat share is, he lives Aemond and a bunch of hippies that sell vintage clothes at the market. 

You run to the corner shop first, buying a bottle of cheap vodka and a diet coke. Then you walk back down the dark street, lighting the ciggie that Aemond gave you, a tote bag heavy on your shoulder, passing the bike and slipping down the side of the building opening the gates. The smell of weed hits you almost immediately. Cregan sits legs spread on the rattan furniture that Aegon stole from someone's front porch last summer. You don't know why he does it, his mum literally owns the restaurant. He earns more than enough. 

You slide up next to Helaena , she leans her head into your shoulder for a moment and then leans back, thumbs padding against her cracked iphone 5, Cregan hands you the joint its some cali strain this time, you rarely smoke. But Saturdays at the RedKeep are actually killing you. Aegon pulls out his speaker and decides to blast drum and bass. You steal the aux and play cigarettes after sex. Falling into the rattan sofa, pulling your Northface jacket around your legs, its fucking cold. Aegon's wearing his dressing gown and hoodie as he stands out the back door. You don't even know why you're in the garden, an hour passes and you find yourself sweating on the sofa, legs intertwined with Aegons as he spews on about some weird conspiracy theories; dragons being real, the lizard people shit. You talk about the ghost house when you lived in the isle of white for a year. And then you've had enough of talking so you head up to Aemonds bedroom to listen to music. 

Your socks run up the carpeted stairs, pausing outside Aemonds bedroom, you knock and hear him grunt a yes. You practically throw yourself into his bed, your phone bouncing from impact, he smiles at you, and you look at his mac playing on the bed, he’s watching reruns of misfits before it gets bad. 

“You know, Aegon always reminds me of Nathan? I can't watch it without thinking about him.” You sigh,“it's a shame because Robert Sheehan is really fit” Ameond hides a laugh, he's different now. He used to light up a room with his quick wit. But now he’s buried into himself, he just keeps retreating and retreating. You used to have this weird thing between you. It was all longing looks and brushed knuckles. He’d follow you outside on early morning shifts to have a ciggie, making you laugh, legs pressed against each other on the staircase. Sometimes you’d bring him coffee and he'd make you one of those fruit salads with all the fruit scraps, slices of mango and strawberry tops. Nights spent outside nursing a joint while Aegon sings incredibly loud in the lounge. No one was surprised when they saw you two getting closer, it's like fate really. Line cook and hostess. If it wasn't Jace it was going to be Aemond.

And then the accident happened. It wasn't Luke's fault, it really wasn't. Something had split on the floor, Luke wasn't wearing the proper shoes yet. He was just about to start his shift, so he slips, grabs for Aemond, His knife in hand just about to chop something, they both fall to the ground. You remember coming to grab Aemond for a cigarette and there was just blood everywhere. All over the white tiles. You remember thinking that he had spilt some kinda wine sauce, nearly laughing until he had sat up and his face looked like it was falling apart. He was shaking, too afraid to cry, and Luke was sent home. 

It was one of those slow days. So you had shoved him into the car with a napkin pressed over his eye. Taking him to A&E for stitches, he looked so different when he came out. He smoked a cigarette in your car with bloodstained hands. You hand squeezed his thigh as you took him home. Then days later you had picked him up from the hospital. White eyepatch over the gaping hole. They removed his eye incase of an infection. It wasn't salvageable, he had sliced right through the cornea. 

He wasn't at work for weeks, you remember standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him to come down and join the others, aegon had pulled you away after an hour. Too shy to head up there yourself and then months later you had taken a joint and pringles up to his room. He was just staring out the window, watching the sunset as Helaena  spun around with Cregan. 

“How was work?” he asks, you hand him a vodka coke, swinging your legs under yourself. 

“Fucking terrible, Daemon did it again” your hands runs through your hair. You look at Aemond, you can barely even notice the difference with his fake eye and real one, they got it spot on. “It pisses me off so much, like no wonder we aren't getting any new customers. When he keeps cancelling the bookings” Aemond shuts his laptop, he gets up and grabs a record from the pile in the corner, the needle hits the vinyl with a hum, it crackles around the room.  He's so different from his brother, you wonder where he gets it from. He's just softer. 

You miss his touch. He lies back down on the bed, hands over his heart, you're on your stomach, watching him breathe slightly, you wanna reach out and touch him, he watches you hesitate. “Sorry” he mutters. He runs his hand through his hair. Your eyebrows furrow, he looks away. 

“Why are you sorry?” you ask, you lean into your hands and watch him. Waiting for an answer. 

He pauses, chewing on his lips, and then his face settles, his lips back to the perpetual pout. “I know we had this thing between us, but you don't have to keep it going because you feel sorry for me” 

“Huh” your eyebrows raise, you almost wonder if he's joking, you wait for him to crack a smile, “ I~I don't know what to say Aemond, I don't feel sorry for you” you groan, your hands smush your face together and then you plant yourself into the side of his body. You feel him stiffen and then his hand comes back to smooth over the small of your back. Your face heats. “I ~ oh god” you look up at him watching his eyes twitch, “I always felt like you were just playing along with this whole thing, we had” you shift, pushing yourself onto your knees. “I've have this really stupid big crush on you, since I had the panic attack out back and you sat with me for twenty minutes even though Nyra was shouting at you.”

He sits up, your jaw shifts side to side, you wonder if you should just escape downstairs and sleep with Cregan instead. His hand reaches out to touch your thigh pulling back. He lets out a huff. “You’re fucking with me” he shakes his head. You shake your head back smiling.

“Wait a sec” you grab your phone and swipe back to a conversation you had with Healana months ago, you hand it to him. Watching his eye sweep across the messages. He smirks, and then scrolls down, your eyes widen, he laughs. 

“You can stop scrolling now” but he continues anyway smirk falling into a smile, “Aemond!” your own smile falls, “ Aemond, please stop scrolling” you grit your teeth. Your hand reaches to snatch your phone, But he pulls it away from you, you climb over his body hand on his shoulder, reaching out to grab at your phone. You feel yourself lose balance, you begin your descent onto his floor, but his arm grabs around your waist and pushes you back onto the bed quickly. He’s hovering over you, one arm on the bed the other lingering around your waist. 

“He’s gonna be the death of me” he smirks down at you. 

“Shut up” you huff, you bite your lips to stop you smirking, feeling heat rush to your face. You look up at him, watching his eyes glance down to your lips, you look at his. You’re so fucking high, and its not from the drugs. His hand brushes against your hip. Fingers pressing into the flesh, your skirt is flipped up, you don't even realise. It doesn't even matter because he’s already crashing his lips on your own. It's quick, chased and hard. You move together like you're running out of time, one hand brushing against your jaw the other pressed into your hip, you whine, hands running up his neck to his jaw, you're pulling him closer than what’s physically possible. 

He goes to untuck your shirt from your skirt, you part and pull it off over your head quickly, he takes in the curves of your body, tracing muscle and moles. “Nearly killed me today, walking in on you like this” you smirk under him, his hand brushed against your chest clad in a black lacy bra. You press his hands into your chest, he gropes and needs, his lips running down the column of your neck, you sigh under his touch, teeth grazing, lips nipping. 

Pupils blown, Aemonds hands fingers graze down from your chest to under your skirt, you pull him in for another kiss, teeth clashing together. Phone forgotten by the side of you. You feel his hands run down your legs, a finger hooks under the waistband of your tights, you lift your hips, propping yourself up on your elbows as he slides them down your legs, you part, standing and shifting them off. Aemond sits back and watches. The record crackles repeatedly through the speaker, and you lean down to pick one out. Carefully putting the vinyl into its sleeve. Needle back down, the music starts. “Your such a cliche” 

‘She planned ahead for a year… He said let's play it by ear’

“Shut up”,You slide yourself back into aemond’s arms, his hands run down your bare skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps, your own run down his chest and then tug at the shirt he wears. He pulls it over his head before you know it. Your hands trace the pale freckles skin, pressing wet kisses down his throat, he slides a hand around your thigh, pulling you to straddle him. He pulls your chin towards him, meeting him in another heated kiss.You moan as he grabs at the flesh of your ass, slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your back arches, your chest pressing against his. He trails his lips across your chin as he rolls both of you over, his hand grazes your inner thigh and you wrestle your skirt off quickly. 

He sticks his head in the crock of your neck, kissing tenderly. Hand brushing under your panties, he cups your cunt, swiping a finger through your folds, “Shit your wet” he pants, you feel him smirk against your throat. “This fo’me?” you nod your head, eyes half shut as you stare at him. Lips bruised and pouting. He eats up your whines with his lips as his finger traces your clit, your hands brush against his neck and then grip his hair. He slides a finger into you with ease. You moan into his mouth. He makes a come hither motion and slides another finger inside of you. Your back arches and he groans, pinning you into the bed. Your knee slides up and brushes against his hardness. 

‘Youre a doll, you are flawless ’

He stiffens, movements stilling. You smirk. His hands leave your body and you meet his lips again, hands brushing against his groin. You pull at the belt buckle. Pulling away from him to see what you're doing, he pulls your panties down your legs, head buried in the crock of your neck pressing hot kisses onto your skin. You fumble and then pull his trousers down, you can see the outline of his cock through his boxers. He grins down at you. You palm at his cock, watching him through your lashes. He sheds his boxers, you run your hand down his length loosely, thumb brushing over his tip. You watch him whine. “Condom?” 

“I'm on the pill.” You hum.

He pulls your body towards him, your crotch meeting his thighs, he leans closer. The head of his cock brushing past your folds, it feels like hours spent teasing you and then suddenly he pushes into you, feeling you stretch around him. “Shit your tight”,your hands grip his shoulders, mouth gaping open at how full you feel. 

“Fuck Aem” He begins to move slowly, you feel every inch of him, every vein brushing against you. He looks down watching you suck him in. His hands trace against the side of your body, stopping at your hips. 

Finger’s digging into the flesh. You feel so dizzy with pleasure. “Shit, so good fo’me” you clench around him, he lips curl upwards. “You like that huh?” you moan, feeling his cock brush perfectly against your walls. “So fucking pretty underneath me” your back arches. 

He pulls out and pushes you onto your stomach, you lift your hips, he hilts himself inside of you all at once. You feel him in your throat.you hands trace against his creased covers as he pounds faster into you. He pulls your back towards his chest. Hand grabbing at your chin. You look him in the eye. Biting your lip, you feel sweat run down your bodies, his hand slides down your front and runs tight circles around your clit. He leans in to kiss you. Pulling away with a string of spit. “Close Aem”

“Yeah? Already” 

You nod against him, his fingers brush up your neck, pinning your body into his, neck tilting. Lips brushing together. You feel him pulse inside of you. You feel the pleasure spread from your back until you can't hold on anymore. You clench around him. You can taste it in your mouth. You turned around and pressed into the covers by his body, he pistons into you chasing his high,You feel him falter, bringing his face to your own, he presses his sweaty forehead to your own. Chasing your lips as he cums. Your own legs shake from under him. He collapses on your chest. Teeth grazing against your tits. He smiles up at you,  you push his hair back from his face. 

“I really like you” he whispers, his hand meets your cheek, the pad of his thumb smoothing over your skin. 

“I'm glad” you smile, “because i really you” he pulls away from you, shrugging on some clothes and running out the room. He comes back with a wet flannel. Wiping the sweat of your forehead and then between your thighs. He kisses your shoulder and you watch him grab clothes out his drawer. You pull your socks on, and his adidas jumper, along with some joggers. The cuffs of his jumper slides down your wrist to your palm. You slide your phone in his pocket and wait. Aemond stands by the door. “You coming?” your eyes widen and you jump off the bed, grabbing his hand to pull him down stairs. 

The music is louder than usual and Aegon stares at you as you walk through the door of the lounge,“You finally fucked then” 

“Aegon!” Helaena  gasps, shoving a pillow at his face. You watch Aemonds face blush but push him into the direction of the back yard, picking up your coat and bag. You both sit on the rattan furniture, Aemonds arm wrapped around your shoulder as you roll a joint, he presses his lips to the side of your mouth as you lick the paper. It's not the neatest, but it's not Aegons, which usually look limp and bent. You push the tray of your lap and tuck your legs under you, leaning into his body. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” 

You light the joint watching the cherry light, Turning to his side, he watches for your reaction. You smile, breathing in the weed and handing it to him. “Yes please” his lips curl. You pull your phone out his hoodie pocket, eyes widening as the texts to Helaena, light up. 

You: I literally need this man so bad I'm gonna have an aneurysm x Helaena: Istg, stop whining and talk to him all he does is ride his bike and go to work x

You switch your phone off and smile. 

Beautiful Boy Three.

chapter one chapter two

Dark!aemond x strong! reader

Warnings: violence, fingering?afab reader, only description is long dark hair, Starvation. Stockholm syndrome(eventual)cnc,dub con, ptsd flashbacks

“You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fist full of your hair, your chin rises upwards

You're perched on a chaise lounge, new gown, hair clean and braided, ankle bandaged. Aemond's head is in your lap and a book perched on his chest as he reads to you. Something about a war. You haven't been listening, you're too busy staring at the fire, Aegon's face melting and melting into heavy armour.  

You're starting to view Aemond as two different people, he's teetering over the edge of a coin. The prince regent, angered. Nostrils flared. His hands grip your hair tugging you further down his cock, unbothered whether you breathe or not. He uses you like he uses a weapon, flung about without care but precious. You've learnt to relax your mouth, letting drool pool out the sides. Sometimes when you tear up you feel him pulse within you, pressing the salty tears into your face harshly. Staining your cheeks. He tells you to ‘take it’ , take what, exactly? He only pushes your face further into the sheets. You’re half wept by the heat of his cock and the strangle of breaths that arise from your chest as he pistons inside you. He likes it when you whine. Likes it when you moan. Likes the power he holds over your head in the evening. The way his anger tears through your body like a violent sob. Pulling more and more from you every time. He can take it, he can take what he pleases.

And then he's Aemond, soft Aemond, his hands trail against you tentatively, like an instrument, hands running down you to see you hum, watch you sing. Voice like heaven, throat like sex. Brushing loose hairs, kissing sides of mouths. Thumb swiping over tears. His head nestled in the nape of your neck, pressed against your chest. When he comes he only buries himself further into your body like he's trying to part your bones, like he wants to stay there, entombed in muscle and bone. 

And sometimes he's balanced over the edge, smiling softly at you while he drives into you with such force, your hiccuping between sobs, he traces your jaw with kisses “my filthy girl” his girl, His thing. He plays you for a fool, wrapped up in this gilded cage you can barely remember the war cry in your head. 

Get out

You push his hair back from his face, eyepatch off. The sapphire eye glints at you. He hums in delight. Soft Aemond. His free hand runs against your arm. You feel so malleable beneath him. What was it he had said? Like clay, free to mould you however he wanted too. Pliable. My malleable girl. My sweet girl. How long has it been since you paced seven steps back and forth? Since your fingers traced the cracked brickwork. Since you prayed. You don't remember. Why does your back hurt? You hand shifts reaching out to prod the nape of your neck. 

“Please it hurts” You whimper, you’re bare, pressed to the floor, cheek wet. Diritied on the mudded ground. Something slashes you from behind. Once then thrice. “Please stop!” you shout as you turn around. Hands pressed against your face. 

“Are you alright my sweet girl?”a whisper. You hum in return. You stand near the fire, hand on the mantelpiece. Aemond pulls your body into his, he can see it in your eyes now, this emptiness. A hopelessness he brought about. It reminds him of his sister. “How was your day? Did you read?”

Ah yes, reading. Aemond seems to have a library's supply of books. You haven't found yourself in the reading mood lately, you remember your old copy of ‘The loves of Queen Nymira’ hidden away under floorboards from your brother at Harrenhal, how he would ridiculous you over giddy words. Aemond tends to read history and philosophy, you feel you might go mad under the writings of men. It is all war and great kings' deaths, You dare’nt say it. You nod and smile. “Had a bath”  

“Did you eat?” he knows what you're like, you forget. He thinks you're used to hunger now, but he's noticed your face looking brighter recently, finding you grazing on fruits as you keep watch out the window. You nod, smiling up at him. He continues to hold you, his fingers tracing small circles on your arms. He feels his heart flutter. The room has darkened now, and the glow of the fire encumbers both of you. Painting shadows across the walls. He pours a chalice of wine, sweet and sickly. It makes you feel all giggly inside. You wonder if you’ll ever slip past the gates of the RedKeep again. 

Get out.

His hand slides around your waist keeping his grip on you close, you lean into his body, sipping at the wine. It's spiced, different from how you remember. “Is this new?”

“Imported from Dorne” his hand slides higher up your back until he brushes your hair off your shoulder, moments like this that make you never want to leave. Your head leans back and he sticks his nose in the nape of your neck, breathing in the smell of roses, it reminds him of those sugar coated sweets from sunspear, Lokum. He kisses you softly, placing his cup on the small table before throwing himself back into the comfort of your skin. Soft Aemond. Your sweet Aemond. 

You sigh into his touch, finger pads running down your neck, tracing the bones. Your own hand grips his shoulder and you feel yourself fall into his embrace, neck falling, back arching as he pulls your waist into his own. He watches you melt into his arms. Lips brushing against your sweet soft skin. “You taste so sweet” he hums against your skin. Fingers planted against your throat loosely. 

You smile, his lips making his way slowly down your throat, licking and sucking, they find themselves at the hem of your dress, he knees before you, running his hands down your sides planting his face in your stomach. Tucking you tighter into his grip. You stumble slightly, hands smoothing hair away from his face and you unbuckle his eyepatch. You let it fall to the floor. You don't know why he keeps it covered, not really, part of you thinks it beautiful. Your hand reaches out, tracing the line that runs through his brow. Sometimes he flinches away in panic, other times he holds your hand to it. It hurts sometimes, he says. Phantom pain. As if his eye was being slashed through all over again. 

You understand, sometimes your back aches like it's raw. The maester had said the scars were at least a month old when he found them. They bled when you stretched. Milk of the Poppy had only let you succumb to sleep easier. It did nothing for the panic in your head. 

His eye closes and he rises slowly, standing taller before you. His hands reach out and touch you as if you’re made of silk, and he pulls your face in closer, his lip brush against yours  Teasingly, you approach and he only smirks in return, pulling away. He does this until you're whining, smothering you in kisses as quick apologies. gorging himself on your lips. 

“You're always so needy for me” 

Your head nods in tandem with his words, Needy that's what he calls it. Deny it all you want the heat of your arousal pools anyway. You remember those nights you spent with your hands pressed into yourself, cheek still flushed from his touch, It had burnt into you like hot iron had seared your flesh, half expecting it to scar. He's touched you all over now, every inch claimed by touch, lips, eyes. 

You wonder if you have the same impression, if during those nights he had spent at the whore house while you were held in the depths of darkness. That he drank in the skin of another woman and thought of you. That if she had given him the right look he could see you lying underneath him. You wonder if this is what he wanted. The undeniable way you crave his touch even at your worst. A saviour and a captor. How easy is it to save someone from the very thing you had put them in? 

He drinks you in, hurried out of clothes you had pressed to your body in the mirror mere hours ago. Hands under your shift, and then you're both naked, a tangled set of limbs as he hums at the sight of your body. It’s as if he hasn't seen it before, you watch his eye flicker with adoration and then ownership. Emotions plummeting through him like a quick wave of danger. You await from them to be dashed on the ground. Wait for the hardship. Wasn't that what Grand-Uncle had said? Wait for the hardship and let it pass? Did he ever fight for anything? 

You're pulled to bed, lips pressed to yours, Dizzy with spit. Sweet ambrosia. Your body is pulled towards his groin. He's hard, hand stroking down the length of himself, your hand traces at his jaw, sitting up on an elbow. You watch his face as he pushes into you, eye blissed out. It's as if he's found god between your legs, or in your sweat when he's pressed against you, breathing in your scent, A heavenly sight to behold. You feel so full, the pad of his thumb runs along the expanse of your cheek as he finds rhythm. Lips parting, silent moans, strangled breaths. Hair brushed out of your face. Blown pupils. 

“Sweet, sweet thing.”

He’s faster, slapping fills the air and you close your eyes as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, your hands find his shoulders smoothing the skin over as you find yourself closer to relief. The sound of cracking slides through the air, you swallow. Your neck curls in protest, hands gripping at the air, tighter and tighter until you feel something wet. Hand clasping round your wrist. You're back there all over again. Eyes closed tighter, you cry out. The lashing continues. Head thumping against something hard. Someones too close to you, too close to your back. Too close to your skin, sweat, alcohol and damp stone encumbers your body. The scent is heavy in the air. Your eyebrows furrow. Teeth gritting.

“Look at me” 

You shake your head, your eyes only shut tighter. Body sweating, you feel beads of blood rolling down your back. You’re turned. Back pressed into the dirt, eyes shut. Someone closes around you, your legs kick upwards but they are flung to the side and with no warning something enters you. You wail at the intrusion. White hot heat enters you. Your hand swings out in a fist.

“Stop!” you breath out dryly, heavy wails following you. Eyes opening, white hair brushing over you. Mouth opened in a dry scream. Your hand hits his shoulder again. “Please, please stop.” You hyperventilate, heavy laboured breaths, hand against your chest as Aemond comes to a stop, you don't look at him as tears well in your eyes.

“Look at me, please look at me” he grabs at your face, but you dig your head into the nape of his neck and breathe him in as he closes in on you. Sandalwood, books and dragonfire. You're okay. You're fine. You're in Aemond’s bed, in his arms. You soften. “I just want to know who hurt you.” he whispers.

You sigh, jaw moving from side to side.“It's just all fuzzy”, you slump, you can feel the weight of your tongue in your mouth, your head dives into the pillow. He pulls out from you and rolls onto your side. Hand reaching for your face, you turn to look at him. 

“I’d kill for you, you know that?” 

You nod, chewing on your lips, eyes fluttering shut as they try to keep the tears at bay. He pulls you closer to him, your head rests on his chest. You play with his hair, looking up at him, he smirks under you, you know he wants more. His thumb plays with your lip. Smearing spit all over it, You're on the fence with this. Make him mad or make yourself crazy. You decide on the latter. What another push forward to the top?

‘You're involved with the wrong prince miss’

Your body turns facing the bookcase, you take his hand and push it against your chest as an invitation. You feel his lips on your shoulder immediately and then he pushes back into you from behind, your hand rests on his hip. You whimper. He’s softer this time, hips rocking slower and more calculated. You try not to cry, but your face wettens anyway. “Fuck, my sweet girl” he pulls at your chin to kiss you. Eyes running over the wetness of face. You fake a moan as his hand dips down to your wetness. He swallows it between his teeth and smiles at you. Lips curling up. Kissing at your cheeks. “Why are you crying?” he grunts. Hand stroking at your slick pearl.

“Too good aem”,you whine against his hand, cheeks flushed. Your hand digs into his hip as he hits all the tight spots inside of you, turning your brain to mush. “So good,” you repeat, your head turns, back arching, your hands take his own, running them down the valley of your breasts, you let him grope, fingers digging into your flesh. You stare at the bookcase and imagine it setting on fire. He tucks his head into your neck when he comes, he's gonna break his nose one day. You're so sure of it. 

“So good, so good fo’me”, he wipes you with a clothe and then tucks his face right into your chest, falling asleep, hes curled up like a child. You thank the seven he wasn't angry. You thank the seven you get to see the sun. You thank the seven for…

Get out now

The words whisper in your head, but you fall asleep , hair around you like a halo. What's one more day? The glass hasn't even cracked yet.

Aemonds back turns, he reaches out hand grabbing for your own to pull towards his body, Comfort that's what he was begging for, his hands thumbles around on the sheets, emptiness. His eye opens and he turns in the darkness of the room, rain beating down on the stained windows. The white sheets lay crumbled where you had slept, your shift gone from the floor. Where he had seen it land after your night together. 

His eye searching the darkness of the room, for a figure in the night. Thunder cracks and more rain sprays against the window.lightning striking outside, the room lights up quickly. Empty. You hadn't? Had you? He was so sure you wouldn't run from him, he pulls himself from the sheets, dressing quickly. He hesitates at the eyepatch,but  he shoves it over his empty eye socket. He looks at his sheath, dagger gone. His heart thumps. Have you done something stupid? Has he fucked you up that bad? He heads out of  his chambers, the knight is gone.

 The castle is big. But you barely know your way around anyway, he's not expecting you to have gone far, the sheets were still warm when you left. There's only two options, the gardens or the throne room, both of which you have frequented many times. He makes haste, walking quickly down corridors and the flight of stairs, nodding to guards who have stood by their posts. He looks down the corridor, the throne room door wide open. He steps in slowly, eyes locking onto your form. You hum to yourself. Head rolling slightly back and forth.

You're glowing under the moonlight, white shift billowing in the air, dark hair dancing across your back. You begin your ascent up the steps slowly, bare feet dancing across the iron steps. He sees the dagger in your hand behind your back but remains confused. You clench it in your grip, When you finally get to the throne. His eyebrows furrow. You don't sit, instead your hand reaches out, appearing to stroke something. He hears a soft whisper, head bobbing down for a second, you pull your arm away. Head tilting to the side. And suddenly the hand with the dagger flings out, Hilt level with your neck. You hand snaps, arm making a cutting motion.Aemond walks up to you slowly, Footsteps clicking on the castle floor. But you remain staring at the throne. Then he hears it, thick sobs as you sway, He feels himself crack under the noise. You stifle a scream, hair brushing against your shoulder.

Your eyes are empty as your head turns, looking past him, dropping the dagger onto the floor in your outstretched hand, you scrunch up into a ball on the steps, weeping into your hands, “Im so sorry, Im sorry Aemond” 

“Sorry for what” he hushes, he climbs the steps cautiously. Hands reaching out to grab at your arms, they are cut all over, as if someone had put up a struggle. What have you done? Your fingers flex. 

“I killed him, I killed him” you whimper against your palms, rocking back and forth. He tries to pull you away but you are relentless in your efforts, keeping your limbs closer to your body, like you've nailed them into yourself.

“Killed who?” he questions, his hands brush against your soft hair.

You sniff, head snapping back, you look him in the eye,“Aemond” you smile, eyes softening. Your hands run down your hair and you stand. Stepping down the forged steps, hands brushing your shift. You begin to walk back to his champers as if nothing had happened. He picks his dagger up avoiding the swords that shoot out of the ground. Watching you, as it was merely all a dream. He follows you back, moving in calculated steps. Eyes staring straight ahead even in his efforts to get your attention. 

Then you slip back into bed, eyes closing as they pull the covers back up to your neck. You hum. There's a beat as you shift under the covers, hand smoothing. Searching. He watches your eyes snap open and your hand digs round for something under the covers, you sit up and look at him.

 “Why are you dressed?” you clench your teeth. Looking down at yourself, you notice the shift, and then the marks all over your arms, you panic. Hands clutching at your body, Chest rising. You look at Aemond, his dagger in his hand. “What have you done?” you lip trembles. Aemond approaches, you flinch back. 

“Please Aemond, I'm sorry, I haven't done anything, I swear’ you hiss at him as he approaches. Head shaking, He drops the knife quickly and it clangs against the floor. Hand reaching out to your leg. He watches your hands come up to cover your face, blood running down your arms. You cry against them, “I don't wanna go back”, it almost breaks his heart. 

“Shh, it's okay” He smooths his hands over your legs, and then he stands heading for the door to call for something, he keeps his distance as he waits.

Beautiful Boy Two

dark! aemond targaryen x strong!reader chapter one chapter three

Warnings: violence, fingering?afab reader, only description is long dark hair, Starvation. Stockholm syndrome(eventual)cnc,dub con,sa "You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy. You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fist full of your hair, your chin rises upwards

You stare at the wall, condensation drips. Your lips crack, hair knotted, dirtied fingers run against the divots, stone brickwork that dusts under the weight of the castle, another mindless dream of escape. The taste of blood is persistent in your mouth. You sip the water, eat the mouldy bread. Run your hand against the wall, scratch your nails deeper into the hole with the rats. You dream again of close bodies and gouging yourself on sweet foods, kneeling down praying to your rescuer, but you always awake back here. Back in your cell.

You're so sure you're on the brink of insanity, about to tip over the edge. 

There's about three steps from your cot to the wall, three small steps and then seven from the bars to the other wall. You're plagued with thoughts of escape, wishes to pull a guard inside and change their mind by kneeling before them. But they all take their oath way too seriously. You feel yourself drown in your hopelessness, every footstep without the sound of heavy armour sending frivolous goosebumps down your arms. You miss the smell of rain, the feeling of sun on your face. Things you hadn't even thought about while being in the safety net of the damp castle. The only thing that provided you comfort was the dripping of water, bringing you back home for just seconds. 

The rowdiness of men subsidies for a mere moment, and then there are angry shouts, ​​exasperated yields of freedom, pleads and begs towards the stranger. Well what you believe to be, you can hear the footsteps, just brushes of fabric and shadow figures that double under the candle light. 

You sit up, ears straining for sounds of the stranger, this had brung as much excitement to you; as when you had found two rats curled up asleep next to you on your cot, hands grabbing the crumb of bread you had picked off ,and then the sound of nothing. As if the visitor had disappeared. You look towards the gates, hoping to make out a shadow, barely even noticing the sound of them swinging open as your prince had already stood over you. 

Your gaze stiffens, eyebrows raising up. Mouth opening in protest, but he hisses at you, a lone finger over his mouth. Be quiet, let him speak. He crouches and you notice he has come without his eyepatch this time. You stare at the sapphire eye, brighter under the light of the candle, hoping to make him as uncomfortable as he did you, his face remains unreadable holding your gaze. 

“How you withered in here”, he speaks, voice softer than it had been when he had last seen you, his hand grabs at a strand of hair twisting it ever so slightly and then letting it fall back onto your face, you wished his hand had brushed near your mouth so you may bite it, but you act obedient under him, Act broken and get out it repeats in your mind like a hum.

Your eyes flutter, offering a small sweet smile in his presence. He huffs, hair grazing against his knee as his head tilts, you're encumbered by sweat and dirt, lips cracked and bleeding, you could be shoved on the street in the poorest area and still be seen as dirty, a filthy wench. He offers no sympathy towards the predicament that he had landed you in.

He opens his mouth to speak instead turning to the corner to see rats scurrying across the floor, a piece of bread in their mouths. “I see you have company” His mouth curls to a smile, watching to see if you bite back, a test.

“Not very good company, I was saving that bread for dinner.” You watch his face fall, and then you smile offering a light chuckle in return. “I merely jest, It might be odd. I feed them because I fear waking up in the night to a missing limb.” you smile back at him.

He scoffs “ You think that will stop them?” 

Your smile fades at his darkened tone, “well, if it doesn't i hope they aim for the throat”

"And why would you want that, exactly?" he smirks, his eyes still fixed on yours. 

“A quick and honourable death” you lean into your words, feeling your cracked lips brush against each other.

Aemond's smirk fades at your words, replaced by a colder, more calculating look. "There is nothing honourable about death by rodents." He says, his voice low and firm. "And it certainly wouldn't be quick."

Your eyes flicker downwards, grasping hair in your hands near the roots ,”Then i hope you would pity me and give me mercy” you run your hand down the expanse of your leg.

He studies you, face unreadable, the pleading in your eyes that fills him with a sense of power as if he didn't hold it already. “And you would want me to kill you?”

“That's what you've come to do isn't it?” 

Aemonds jaw tightens in return, he pauses standing quickly, turning to the gates and then back at you. He takes a step closer. “ And if I were to say yes?” 

“Then i would thank you, for a quick death would be better than withering away alone” your shoulder sag, head nodding in tandem as you speak. 

He takes a step closer towards you. Piqued with interest at the hopelessness in your voice. He looks down on you, and then suddenly his hand reaches out to grab at your face, his palm is soft, softer than anything you've felt in months, and the pad on his thumb draws circles around your face, you sigh into his touch. Eyes closing at the soft nature he had presented. You find yourself tearing up in his hold and then suddenly you're breaking under his face. He brushes a tear from your face. 

“Can't you see?” you splutter, “what you've made me” the sound of your voice is cracking and desperate. Your head tilts into his hand and then your own hand presses over his own, pressing the salty tears into your face. His eyes widened, he wasn't expecting such distraught sadness. Anger? Yes. Despair? Maybe. The feeling of discomfort sturs in his stomach. But he doesnt pull away, if anything his thumb starts to rub small circles on your cheek again. The tears pour and time passes quickly. He rises hand leaving your face. He turns to leave without a word, you stand hand grabbing at his arm, he tenses under your grip. He looks at you surprised. 

Suddenly his hand flies through the air and smacks you in the face. Anger boiling within him, you clutch your cheek, falling to your knees. “Wait! Please, I've had no comfort here for so long, that I've begun to think I've gone mad just under your touch.”

His hand stings from the impact and he peers down at you, your breathing laboured and thin. He thinks about moving but he stays kneeling down to your level. Hesitation. His expression has softened. "Why would you want comfort from me?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly. "I am your captor, your enemy. I have caged you here like a bird. Why would you want me to touch you?"  

The words roll off your lips like a plea,“Can't you see what you've done to me? You've driven me mad without saying a word” 

“One moon has passed” His gaze flicks over you, taking in your pathetic, desperate form as you kneel on the cold stone floor. A mix of anger and something else - something he can't quite identify - flickers in his eyes. Then, without a word, he turns and steps out of the cell, slamming the door shut behind him.

You sink down into the floor, eyes on the empty space he had left. The candle flickers. There's a grunt. It startles you from your thoughts of Aemond, “Miss?” it's rough, he’s from the north, maybe. 

“Hm?” you mutter, eyes turning to the source of noise. You peer before you, just making out the figure of a man held captive, a man of a taller stature, covered in furs.

“You're involved with the wrong prince miss” He mutters, hand coming up to run through his curly hair and then there's another voice, quieter, older.

“Don't talk to her, he’ll have your tongue!” The gasps turn into a stumble of laughs and sputters and then a huge coughing fit. You watch as the man turns around from you in his cell, sitting on the cot. Your own hand presses over your mouth as you conceal a whimper. Eyebrow’s furrowing. You shake under your own palm. Your other hand runs through your hair, providing little comfort. Cheek still hot from where he slapped you. Cheek still hot from where his thumb rubbed against your skin as if you were a precious child. 

You kneel in the corner that night and pray to the seven, pray he will come back, pray you won't die down here with the rats, from starvation. Pray your brother will be slain. Pray for salvation.  

Act broken and get out. 

You tuck your legs into your body and trace the cheek he held, You fall asleep. In the morning you braid your hair over and over again, letting not knots fall out, You use your water to rub your face from the dirt, you drop half the amount of bread on the floor this time, you don't pick at your nails or scratch at the surface, and then you wait, and sleep and wait and sleep and wait. 

Act broken and get out.

And sleep. It tolls on your body like a heavy cloud, you dream of all sorts of things, slaughtering your brother yourself. Killing the king, Aemond on the throne, a burning of flesh and metal fused together under the hot sun. White hair soaked with blood, body impaled on spikes. And you awake, wash your face, eat the bread, pray to the seven, braid your hair, stroke the rats. Your nails grow back, skin now pink instead of the blackened blood that had dried there. You pace along the expanse of your cage, waiting to hear the roars from men begging for relief. 

Act broken and get out.

You pace, pray in your corner, braid your hair, stroke the rats, tuck your legs up into a ball and trace the cheek he held. 

Act broken and get out.

It happens when you least expect it just like last time, in the midst of prayer, head buried in the wall, hands clutched so deeply. the hinges had moved from your cell door so quickly. The screech had bled out like a scream, you had only thought there was another prisoner, another captive who had joined you in the under belly of the RedKeep. So when you had turned to pace along the little expanse you had and noticed the flash of white hair, your eyes had brightened up like a pup seeing its owner, heart leaping. 

You smile “Aemond, your back.”

His jaw tightens, unsure of the happiness that displays across your face, it's cleaner now. And your hair doesn't look unkempt like last time, there’s something wrong, he can feel it deep within. It makes him uneasy. 

Your head tilts, hair falling against your shoulder like riptides of waves. “Aemond?”

He doesn't respond, studying your face quietly, your smile not faltering, there's a beat,“yes?”

“Are you well?” your brows furrow in concern. 

He seems taken aback by your question. He's not sure what he expected you to say. He blinks, "What do you mean, am I well?" its snarky, voice ringing against the walls of your cell. 

“Sorry” you look at your feet, fiddling with your hands. 

“Im fine”, He answers, voice flat.

“Good” you smile, hand’s smoothing against your dress as you sit on your straw cot. His eyes follow your hands. Hand reaching out beside you to signal him to sit down, he hesitates for a moment. Then he heads closer to you, finally perching himself on the floor next to you, his long legs against the wall. 

Get out.

Your eyes perch on the cell door, it opens at a crack, the door to freedom. Aemond’s eyes follow your own and then suddenly you're grabbing at his face. Pulling it back to look at you. Both of your eyes widen, he looks angered. You're shocked at your own movements. Mouth gaping open and yet your hand stays laid across his cheek, you feel yourself heat at the movement. And then the weirdest thing happens. Aemonds hand lays across your own and his eye shuts. You feel the warmth of his cheek. 

Moments pass, he lets go of your hand and instead of leaving, he grabs at your waist, tucking his head into your lap. His hands smooth over the material of your dress, you feel a sob rake through his body as he holds you in his arms. You are unsure of what to do, so you take to stroking his hair away from his face, his cries seem to stop simultaneously. You lean against the wall, his hands pulling you closer to his face. He clings to you like a child. 

He lets go, and stands swinging the cell door behind him, disappearing into the shadows. The guard locks it.“It's been three weeks” you clench your jaw at the revelation, nearly two moons. You slam your hand against the wall, feeling the bones crack, and then you scream. It cuts through you like a knife, you wanna bash your head into the wall, you wanna feel Aemond’s bones crack, you want to make him feel crazy, drive him to the brink of insanity over and over until he feels dizzy with panic. 

You bind your wrist quickly with material torn from your dress, keeping it elevated against the wall to avoid swelling. You're unsure if it's broken, you can still move your fingers slightly but the pain worsens as the hours go by. 

You wake up. Drink water. Eat bread. Try to braid your hair, but fail. Scream into the wall. Pace the cell with your arm up in the air until you feel dizzy, and you wait and sleep and wait and sleep and wait and you're falling deeper and deeper into madness. 

Get out.

Your hand traces the wall, noticing every single divot in the cracked interior. You say fuck it and move your cot, finding nothing. You put it back. You pace with your wrist held high. It’s started to bruise and swell. You could use some hot water to soak it, or something colder, you hold it against the wall. The swelling goes down, pain lightens up after a couple of days and you can stretch it out slightly, it's not broken. You thank the seven. You dream of pain beyond compare, stretching out over your body.

Get out.

You count the bricks, you count the strands of hair on your head. You pace, you pray, you sleep and wait. You push your head into the wall and scream. You finally braid your hair loosely behind your back and tie it with the piece of dress. You press your fingers into the divots your cheeks hold. You stand against the wall and scream until you can't speak, can't sing, can't scream. 

Get out 

Your head is pressed into the wall and you feel the presence behind you, it hasn't been that long, you don't think. Time passes oddly; sometimes you awake to three pieces of bread on your floor stacked up in the dirt, other times it feels like hours go past and the candle hasn't even melted. You don't turn, you face the wall, watching the water run through the structure, droplets racing each other, one gets held up in the moss, the other races past and then your hair is snatched backwards by its braid, your hands reaching out to your scalp, you haven't even heard the words muttered until Aemond is shouting at you. “Fucking look at me!” you're pulled down to your knees, head shoved into the ground by a boot. You lay limply staring into the wall, eyes flickering between the bricks. 

GET OUT!

Your head is screaming at you, Do something, fucking do something.You hands scratch at the dirt, watching mud collect under your nails. Your cheek burns with pain. “Such a pretty little thing” he mutters, “and yet my brother wants nothing off you” your eyebrows furrow, his voice is more melodic than his usual soft, stoic tone, your eyes turn and you gaze up at the bright eyed targaryen, aegon. 

You scurry to the corner, legs pressed against your chest. Not him, he promised, Not him. 

“Aemond said~”you splutter. 

Aegon’s hands land on his waist,“Well i'm the king” his head tilts to the side, and then you notice a bright light, red fire erupting throughout his body so suddenly, he stands unaffected as you cover your ears and scream at him, watching the fire spread quicker and quicker, flesh burning, the smell rancid. You close your eyes, feeling the heat rise to your face. 

When you open them you're standing in the middle of the room. Blood pools in your hand, you touch your nose, wincing, turning to the wall, a spot of blood just lower than your head, Your eyebrows furrow. Metal fills your mouth. Your wrist is unbound, no bruising. You swallow back blood. 

Wake ,Drink, Prey, Eat, Pace,Braid. Over and over and over and over.

Get out.

“Two weeks” 

“Hm?” you look up, Aemond stands there near the cell door, eye patch on. Has he been there long? He looks at the guard, you touch your nose, is there blood there? You look at the wall. Nothing, you look at your wrist, Nothing. Your hair is braided down your back. You whimper, it catches his attention, he turns a look of care in his eyes. 

“Are you still in there?”He whispers. The candle light shines behind him, he looks like a prophet of some kind of god, a religion you would fall into. 

“Sorry?” you mutter, hands clutched towards your chest. 

“You dont look like you've eaten much” he peers down at you, the dress appears to hang off your shoulder,his expression is unreadable. He looks at you for a moment, his gaze taking in your dishevelled, malnourished appearance.

“Aemond” you whisper, your voice crackles. 

His face softens, hand reaching down to grab at your face you nearly flinch at the contact. He pauses, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Easy," he whispers, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not going to hurt you." 

“I'm confused” you shake your head.

“Can you stand?” low and gentle, you nod standing on your feet, you tremble against the wall and his hands reach out to catch you, pulling you into the heat of his body. “it's alright, i've got you” his hand smooths your hair against your back. You lean into his chest.

“Is this real?” 

There's a pause, you await the obvious wait for his eyes to bleed and snarl about your insolence. But he nods his head slowly. The door to the cell opens, you hush out into the hallway, eyes darting around the room, rats scurry, you look at the cell across you, Empty.

He leads you up hallways, down corridors, up steps you reach a large oak door, the knight opens it. The bedroom is clean, orderly. Filled with bookshelves, the fire roars, you remember Aegon, the way his skin blistered under the heat,you look at Aemond. Eye intact. “Your brother is going to burn” you utter.

His eyebrows furrow, he looks at you like you've gone mad, he leads you into the room “Who told you that?” 

“No one, i saw it when he visited me” you shake your head, suddenly you feel stuffy, you pull at your dress. it falls off with a thud. 

“He didn't~” Aemond’s eyes widened and you followed his eyes. Looking down at your feet. It's a mangled and bruised mess wrapped in the same fabric from your dress, but that's not what he's looking at, your undergarments just cover your thigh, you lift them. It's like someone had whipped you from behind, rope burn wrapping around your thighs, you feel his hands on shoulders turning you, lifting your slip, there's a strangled breath. 

“Who did this?” it's angered.

You shake your head, Did what? Did what! You lift the slip of your body, baring yourself, turning it in your hands, blood staining the back of it. “Am I dreaming again?” you look to Aemond. 

“Let's get you to bed” he gestures to the bed you are near.

“I don't want to wake up there again”you shake your head, exasperated tears wrecking through your body like heavy waves, you clutch your face.

“You're not going too” he smiles, hand smoothing down at your arm, you feel yourself fall into his grip. Breathing in the scent of sandalwood, books, ash. 

“Do you promise” 

He nods his head. You slip into bed, eyes heavy, your back doesn't even hurt, you can't even feel it. You toss, and watch Aemond sit at the edge of the bed looking at you, the last time you had held him he had the same look, almost like pity. 

You try to close your eyes, but all you can smell is the heavy moisture under the cold damp stone walls. You scratch at your hands, Aemond feels closer than before he reaches a hand out tentatively smoothing back your hair. “ I don't want to go back there,” you mutter. 

“I know, i know” 

You drift off, eyes aching, if this was a dream it was a nice one. 

You feel heat on your face, there's the smell of something fresh like bread and then there's the weight that settles against your back, your eyes open afraid your face will be face to face with the dungeon walls, instead a bookcase, you try to turn but instead find yourself tangled in limbs, Aemond had tucked himself behind you his head nestled in the small your your back. You sigh, head perching on the pillow again, you grit your teeth and then look at your hands. Blood is spread all over them. 

You think you need a bath.

Beautiful Boy

aemond targaryen x strong!reader

chapter two chapter three

"You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.

You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fist full of your hair, your chin rises upwards.

You find yourself in the RedKeep, keeping the bed warm for the one eyed prince.

Warnings: violence, fingering?afab reader, only description is long dark hair, Starvation. Stockholm syndrome(eventual)cnc,dub con,sa

Word count: 7k

There's a pregnant pause and then a soft gurgling noise. A burning ash smell fills the air in the expanse of the riverlands, you stay nestled between the walls of the keep, smoke rises from the grounds, a loud marching of what you can only hope is the Strong soldiers that come to save the few around Harrenhal. Maybe the Castle was cursed as people believed it to be. The death toll had only added up after Harren Black and his sons had withered away in the dragonfire. First the attack from Daemon and his army, then the Targaryens had only abandoned Harrenhal is such fleeting moments, You believed there was more death to come. Only years had passed since your brother and fathers death when you were Two and Ten, Larys had only hidden you away after he was confirmed heir for Harrenhal after Lord Simon Strong (your great Uncle) would pass. 

How you wish he could see the destruction of his hold after he had executed your Family for treason ,although the castle had been withering away under the rain for years. Lary’s mendacious nature had you squirming under his tend, knowing he would set you with a match that would only make your skin crawl, when the time had come. 

The stench of Dragon fire comes closer, and you slide down the cool wet stone wall of Harrenhal, hand over your mouth, you sweep the length of your dress closer to your body, you find yourself in a precarious situation, wedged into the many nooks the building had to offer. You gaze down at the mossy grass, the sky darkens in a cloak of ash and you almost believe it to be over, then the rainfall had come, sweeping the castle into a darker shade, it washed the blood away from the walls. 

Aemond stood at the edge of the ruins, His lone eye surveying the wreckage that stood before him. The aftermath of dragon fire had been a sight to behold, even after he had witnessed it so many times. His eye catches upon a lone figure in the distance; close to the edge of the keep upon the mountain, hidden away just out of sight, so intriguing. A flash of a Light green gown, rustling against the stone brick after a crack of lighting befell the castle. The sight had provoked him after bearing witness to the slaughter of all who laid here at Harrenhal. 

His long fingers traced the hilt of his dagger, he drew it close to his body as stalked towards the keep, passing the rubble and cadavers that lay upon the bloodied grass. He moved silently, his eye drawing in on his prey, he was a Predator after all. Before you knew it you were unknowingly cornered, He came to the nook where you had hid yourself, “come out, I know you're there,” He called out, voice low and dark. 

You clench your hand closer to your face, squeezing over your nose to still your breathing, fingers digging into flesh. It wasn't safe for you to come out, not yet. Not when you were unsure of who had called for you.You sniffled, raindrops running down your face. 

Aemond found his patience wearing thin. He could hear your shallow breaths, heart so loud he was sure he could hear the beating rhythm of your heartbeat thump against your ribcage. The tension builded in the air;thick and stuffy. He steps closer to the nook, your eyes widening as his boots crunched against what was left of the desecrated building. 

“I won’t ask again,” He said, Lifting his dagger away from his body, “Come out, or I will do it myself. I doubt you will enjoy that very much.”

You rise slowly at his words, feeling like a fresh doe on your legs, you peek your head round the corner. His eyes meet yours, gaze unwavering as you reveal yourself. Your eyebrow raises in a piqued interest and you slowly slide yourself out the nook you had buried yourself against. He was not a Member of the strong army, But he wasn't part of the queens.

“The king's army?” You sigh, “Daemon isn't here, they've left in the midst of your war” Your eyes gaze upon his face, meeting the horrific scar that ran from his brow to the bottom of his cheekbone, You feel his strong gaze on your own face, his lone eye roaming over your figure, you wonder if he remembers your watchful eye at the Red Keep, those years ago as he trained with a sword. 

Aemoned chuckled softly, he stepped closer towards your form, dagger clutched in his right hand as he assessed you. He could see the slight tremble in your form, a small inclination of fear within your eyes. “You’re observant, I’ll give you that,” His tone was cool and neutral. He takes another step forward, muscles flexing under his leather as he raises the blade to your chin, tilting your face to meet his eye. 

“I’m flattered, but it doesn't take a genius to know that this, is your blood-shed.” You feel the edge of the blade against your skin, it's cool in the humidity of the storm, Your hands run along the frills of your soft cotton dress, now wet. 

“You're a smart one, are you?”He chuckles dryly, he moves the dagger away from your chin, it slides down the expanse of your neck, hanging around your collar bones for a moment too long. “Mouthy too.” He steps even closer, body heat radiating off him like Hot fire on a cold day. “That’ll get you in trouble” 

“And yet I'm the last standing amongst this battlefield”. You pull away from his danger, swinging your body in the direction of the surrounding walls. “Though there wasn't much left to stand”

Aemonds lips curl into a smirk. “Cocky too”, He muses. He sheaths his dagger back into the scabbard, it makes you feel some sense of disappointment to be known now as not a threat. “You’re not wrong” he concedes, the scent of ash and fire fills the air as he chases your body with his own. “But don't forget, you are alive because i allow it”

You smirk, feet stepping over bodies and slabs of stone from the wreckage “well, I suppose it's time for me to leave, It was wonderful meeting you.” You nod your head. 

Aemond’s eyes widened in surprise as you began to descend the hill, his hand shooting out to grab your arm, grip firm and bruising. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere” He commands with irritation, he spins you around forcing your back into the mossy stone wall, leaning in close trapping you against himself “I’m not done with you”

“Gosh, men really are all the same. You think I have to listen to your orders because you believe you hold more power over me? You may be a prince but i won't take an order from one who's lost an eye to a child”

Aemond's face enrages at your words as you smirk. His grip on your arm only grows tighter, and you struggle to breathe through the pain,His eye narrowed at your insolence. 

“Watch your tongue or i'll have it” He pushes you further against the wall, body flush against yours, his breath warms as he speaks. “I don't take kindly to being disrespected like that, especially not by mouthy wenches like you.” 

You laugh in his grip, “Mouthy wench? If my brother was dead I'd be set to inherit the very ground you stand on” you sigh, eyes gazing away from him to look upon the grounds. “To bad you torched it ”

His eye widens at the revelation, grip tightening even further, you're surprised you can still feel your hand. He leans in closer, face mere inches from your own, “You’re a highborn?” He studies your face for an inkling of a lie, but only truth prevails. “And yet, you're hiding in the ruins like a commoner” He mocks.

“Only because you slaughtered my family and army, Did my brother Lary’s Strong give you the order?” You almost wince as you say his name, it had been so long since you had seen your brother, now he was a Lord working under the new king. 

His gaze hardens at the mention of Lary’s, eyes filled with spite. “I'm not a lapdog, I'm the prince. And yet you speak with such disdain for your own brother, why?” he queries. 

You smooth back your hair, Aemond steps back finally giving you room to breathe. “He wishes to marry me off to the next man he can, I suppose I'm trouble for him.” 

“Marry you off, eh?” there's a hint of a smirk on his face, you watch as his white hair blows against the wind. “Who does your brother think is worthy for your hand”

You shrug, hands wrapping against your body. “It's not he who has to be worthy, But I, I'm sure he would sell me to a Peasant farmer if he could, for free no less.” you sneer at the thought, the smell of sweat and shit. 

Aemonds chuckles darkly at your words, his eye roams over the soft features of your face. He reaches to brush a strand of dark hair behind your ear. You flinch. The sentiment is oddly gentle in comparison to the mere moments ago where he had held a dagger against your jugular. 

“Fiery, most Highborn girls would throw themself at the opportunity to marry a prince” he mumbles “and yet you resist?”

“Resist? You act as though you haven't killed my family and destroyed everything I have ever known, all because of the boy who took your eye, the one you accuse of being a bastard son to my brother!” you grit your teeth together in destain. “and yet you ask for my hand? As what? A prize? Or a warning to the people that resist you?” 

His eyes darken, jaw clenching at your words, he grabs you by your shoulders forcing you to look him in the eye, his touch feels like fire, itchy and spreads up into a red heat across your cheeks. “You think this is about revenge? This war is more than you and your family” His grip tightens, Face mere inches away from yours. “Besides, I have no interest in taking a spoiled, defiant women as my wife”

“Then let me go” You spit.

He glares at you with rage, “You think it's that easy?” His voice is laced with sarcasm, “just let you go, You think I can simply let you go after all this?” he pauses as he steps closer to you. 

“You won't wed me, you won't kill me, you won't let me go, what do you want with me? To make me a slave? A prisoner?” 

"A slave? A prisoner?" he repeated, his voice low. "No, nothing so cruel." He leaned closer, his body now fully pressed against yours, the heat of him almost burning through your clothes. "I have much more... interesting use in mind for you"

“Gods, you disgust me”

"Oh, do I now?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "And yet, here you are, trembling under my touch. Tell me, is it fear that makes your heart race?" 

“It is my hatred for you” you scoff.

"Your hatred, is it?" he said, his fingers tracing a path down your collarbone. " I can almost feel the heat of it, the fire burning inside of you." He leaned in again, his breath hot against your ear. "But fire can be tamed, just like a dragon.”

“I’d rather die than let you touch me”,you push your weight on to him, he eases giving you enough room to sprint for the gates; an exit. You nearly trip against your feet as you run. 

He curses, hand on his dagger as he runs after you, his longer legs catching up, he pulls you into a bruising grip. Dagger against your throat. Aemond chuckles as you struggle.

“You thought you could escape me, did you?" he said, his breath hot against your ear. "How naive of you." He steers you towards the open field, unbecomered by wreckage. 

“Tegon, Vhager,Tegon!” (land), Aemond spits out. 

There is a large flapping of wings, The sound claps loudly like a Bomb exploding, you hide your face in your hands as air and dirt rises into your face, The great dragon lands, dirt and stone crumbling under its feet from the weight. He tightens his grip on your arm, pulling you closer to the dragon that has landed before them. The beast roars, its scales glinting in the sunlight.

"Now behave yourself. We're going for a little ride."

"What! No" You kick your feet into the dirt, Struggling in his grip, nails scratching at your attacker. 

Aemond grits his teeth at the feel of your nails on his skin, the sharp pain causing him to tighten his grip on you even more. "Stop struggling!" he snaps, "You're only making this harder for yourself."He forcibly pushes you forward, towards the dragon, dust rising as your feet scrape along the floor. "Get on Vhagar,"

“Please, No, I beg you, let me go” 

“Please no,” he pouts mockingly. “you’re coming with me whether you want to or not.”he pulls you closer to Vhager, heat radiates of her scales, “Climb, or i'll throw you over the back myself” 

You shake your head at his command. He grits his teeth. Aemond's patience was wearing thin, yet again. He let out a frustrated growl, his hand tightening around your arm to the point of pain. You yelp. "You're testing my limits, you little wench," he snarled. "Get on. The. Dragon. Now!"

He pushed you closer to the Vhager, her eyes watching you closely, huffing billows of smoke out her nose, He almost shoved you up her side "I won't tell you again."

“No, I won't go with you!”

He raises his other hand and grabs your hair, giving it a sharp tug, you yelp at the pain,hot heat on your scalp, you look back at him. His nostrils flaring."That's it," he snaps, his voice low and dangerous. "You're leaving me no choice." He grabs you around the waist and hoists you up onto the dragon's back, ignoring your protests.

“Fuck you” you spit at him. He climbs onto the dragon, his form pressed tight against your back, you flex your shoulders, flinching away as his arm grabs around your wrists.

“Hold on tight” His breath is hot on your neck.

“Please just let me go” Aemond smirked as he easily bound your wrists together with the cord, securing your hands in front of you.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," he said, his voice low and amused. "You've proven to be quite the disobedient little wench." He pulled you against him, his chest pressed firmly against your back. "No, I think it's best if I keep you bound and under my control." Your eyes widen.

“Gods, you’re a whore” 

“naejot se jēdar, Vhagar” (to the sky) The dragon's wings beat powerfully as they took to the air, the wind whipping around you both. Ground growing distant below them. He chuckles at your insult. “I might have to gag you as well if you keep up with that language” 

Your eyebrows raise at his words, “you wouldn't dare!”

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he said, his voice a low growl.His hands slid up your body, his touch almost possessive. "Perhaps a strip of cloth over your pretty little mouth might help you keep that sharp tongue under control or maybe something else~" He pulls your chin to look up at him.

You shake at his words, “I wouldn't touch you if you were the last man in this realm” you bite your tongue “I'd rather throw myself from this dragon” Aemond's fingers dig into your skin. He chuckled darkly, chest rumbling against your back.

 "Oh,you have quite the mouth on you, don't you?"His tone mocking. "Throw yourself from this dragon? What a shame that would be. All those beautiful bones and curves dashed against the ground." He ran his fingers through your wet hair, his touch almost gentle. "But I wouldn't let that happen."

It feels like mere hours, you look towards the open skies, the sight of Kings Landing coming to view as you part from the storm. Aemonds eye follows your gaze as you notice the red keep come into view, the sight blurred from your defiant tears. Vhagar’s great wings clap against the air as they begin their descent into the pit. You begin to understand the gravity of your situation. 

Vhagar lands, dust settling mere moments afterwards, Aemond climbs off the dragon pulling you with him. The cord only employs extra security of your restraint. Your wrists pull against the cord only tightening the harsh rope. Your gaze hardens as you stare at him, hiccuping as tears run down your face. Without warning his hoists you up into his arms, throwing you over his shoulders. 

You thrash around, his hold still firm ignoring your wiggling. He carries on down different hallways, each step closer to the throne room. “One eyed Cunt” you whisper. He stills, hands gripping firmly at your flesh. Growling as the knights open the door to the great hall.

“Now be good and keep that mouth shut” Aemond shrugs you off his shoulder letting you hit the floor, your eyes gaze up at the Iron Throne, swords melted down to form a horrid sight, Aegon sits upon it drunkenly "Brother!" he slurs, watching your body slumped on the ground of the castle" you've brought me a gift?"

Aemond grimaces at his brother's drunken state,his foot nudging you to stand. Face a picture of disgust, “Not exactly a gift My grace, she's mouthy one, needs a firm hand”

Aegon let out a chuckle, his eyes raking over your body. "she'll do nicely," he slurred.You shake your head at his words, remembering how his eyes used to scour your body when you were younger.

“No, Please.Anybody but him” You look up at Aemond from your knees, Aemond's eye watches you, a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze seeing you squirm and panic.

Aegon chuckled again, his gaze never leaving your body. He motioned for Aemond to bring you closer. "Don't worry" Aegon said, his voice thick with drunken desire. "I'll be gentle."

You shake your head, tears only gathering against your waterline. “Please! I’ll do anything not to be owned by him” You grasp Aemonds legs in your hand, pawing at the material, he looks down upon you seeing you beg. Aemonds lips curl at your obvious desperation, revelling in your pleads. He glances at his brother, his eye mocking."Oh, she's quite the pleader, isn't she?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aegon let out a scoff, his gaze still fixated on you. "Such a lovely little wench," he mutters.

Aemond leaned down, his face just above yours. Hand gripping the back of your hair, pulling you up to look at him. "Anything, hm? How desperate are you, darling?"

you begin to sob at his words "Anything, please" a meer moments ago you would have found yourself enraged by begging for a man. 

Aegon turns his head towards you, he mutters "Accept me as your king and Aemond can have his way with you, im sure theres plenty whores who would love to take my cock"

Aemond smirks at his brother’s response, Watching you sob beneath him, He pulls your hair till you stand, Now a tangled mess. His eye flickering with mockery. "Go ahead, then. Accept my brother as your king. Beg him like the desperate little wench you are."

You bow, taking a knee in front of the throne, “I~”there's a hiccup,“I accept Aegon as the true king of the seven kingdoms” You look up at Aegon, He smiles in satisfaction. his gaze locked on you as you knelt before him. He raised his goblet in mockery, his expression pleased.

"There you have it, brother," he slurred. "She's all yours." He knocks back the goblet, red wine running down his pale face.

Aemond smirks, his hand still gripping your hair tightly,he gestures for you to stand, releasing the grip on your hair. “My Grace, where is Lord Lary’s Strong?”

“Probably sulking somewhere, why?” He waves his Goblet in the air awaiting for it to be filled by a servant. “`Why?” 

“This is his sister” 

Aegon’s eyes fall down on you,he raises an eyebrow, you think about how horrible you must look, stained with ash and mud. Hair a wet mess from the rain. He cackles. “Sister? And yet she is here before us like an insolent pup. It runs in the family, I say.”

“I’m glad we have common ground for I also hate my Impudent brother, he's always been a stuck up man”

Aegon chuckles, “I'm sure you will be glad to see him then, i can't wait to see his face when he sees his little sister bound at our mercy”

You pull against your restraints once more “I’m not exactly precious material, I'm sure when he sees me in your Kinslayer cunt hands he'll be more than happy”, Aemonds hand clasps tightly around your mouth to silence you, you whine. His face mere inches from yours again, you wonder if he gets off on this.

"Watch your tongue" he growls,"Insulting me will only make things worse for you."

Aegon chuckled, clearly "I have to admit," he said, his words dripping in eagerness. "You're more fiery than I expected."

The wait seemed to drag on for an eternity. Aemond keeping his hand firmly over your mouth, grip unrelenting, silencing your protests. Eventually, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and the guard returned, leading Larys Strong into the throne room, his expression stern and composed despite the circumstances, he hobbled on his crutch. Aemond's smirk widened at the sight. " Lord Larys Strong," he taunted.

Larys, turns to aegon nodding his head “My king”

Aemond smirks, his hand still tight on your mouth you can taste his sweat,"Ah, Larys Strong," Aegon said, a smirk on his face. "Your sister here has been quite a delightful addition to our court."

Larys' gaze flicked to you, his usual stoic expression, Not a flicker of concern crossed his face. "Sister," he said, his voice cold. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" 

Aemonds hand releases your mouth and you take a deep breath in, raing your eyebrows “What have i gotten myself into?”You point to yourself,  “I've been kidnapped” 

Larys looks right through you, turning his head “By whom?” 

You shake your head at him, lips pursed “By Whom? Who do I stand with now? Bound? Taken out of my own home after it had become a wreckage!”

His eyes narrow in on Aemond, and then he laughs, “ And what do you plan to do with my sister?” 

"What's it to you, Larys?" Aemond says "Your sister is in my hands now, and i can do whatever i with please with her, i'm sure you'll be glad to not have her in your keep" 

Lary shrugs, his hand gripping his staff, “Do whatever you want with her, Though I beg of you to take her hand, a Strong and a Targaryen would make a fine match" Larys utters , he limps away leaving you to your kidnapper.

You gasp, shocked at Larys' casual dismissal of you. Aegon chuckles, taking another drink from his goblet. "How thoughtful of him to think so highly of your value." he said, his tone mocking. 

Your eyes well up at the sight of him leaving knowing it was your last chance to leave his hands,You think quickly. Jabbing an elbow into Aemond’s side and making a run for it. But he had played this game before with you, he grabs at your arm, bringing you back into his chest. “The more you struggle the worse it’ll be for you”you kick your feet at the stone.

Aemond drags you out of the throne room, his grip on your wrists firm and unyielding. He leads you down the corridors of the Red Keep, his stride long and purposeful.

You try to struggle and pull away, but his grip is too strong, and he effortlessly pulls you along.

“Where are we going?” 

Aemond casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his smile widening at your question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he says, his voice dripping with poison.

He continues leading you down the halls of the castle, passing by guards and servants who give you curious looks. Soon, you find yourself in a part of the castle you're unfamiliar with. 

“The dungeons?” Your boots dig into the stone floor trying to pull yourself from his grasp, but he's merely too strong.

His smirk widens, eye glinting with dark amusement. "Very observant of you" he ridicules.

He leads you down a set of stone stairs, and the smell of damp stone and confinement becomes more intense. The air grows colder, and you find yourself in the dimly lit dungeons of the Red Keep. You shudder as you pass men’s intrepid eyes and womens weary faces  “so you do want to take me as a prisoner, and what leave me to rot till im begging for you?”

Aemond laughs at your words, his grip still firm on your wrists. He stops in front of a cell and pushes the door open. He shoves you into the cell and locks the door behind you, leaving you in the cold, damp darkness. He leaves without saying a word.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the only sound being the occasional clanking of chains and the faint cries from the other prisoners. You shiver in the cold, your knees to your chest, mind racing. Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming down the corridor. The light sound of boots on stone, and your heart starts to pound. Wondering whether he had come back already, you hear the drip of moisture from the stone ceiling.The footsteps draw closer, and you watch anxiously as a guard stands in front of your cell, followed by Aemond, who stands behind him, a smirk on his face. The guard unlocks the cell, and Aemond strides in, leaning against the wall. "Get up," he orders, his eye locked on you. You rise slowly with stiff legs. 

Aemond looks you up and down, his gaze hungry and predatory. "There, that's better," he says, his voice low. He steps closer to you, cornering you against the wall. His hand rises to your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek, you wretch your head back to avoid his touch.

"You look... messy," he says, his tone almost cruel. "Unkempt hair, dirt on your face. Not exactly a pretty picture" He leans in closer, his breath hot against your bare neck and then he turns suddenly, grabbing your wrists in his hands taking you out of the cell, "and clearly in need of a bath." 

Aemond leads you through a door and into what you only assume is his chamber, the scent of rosewater hangs in the air. In the centre of the room, a large steel tub is filled with steaming water. He pushes you towards the tub, his gaze dark and possessive. "Strip," he demands, his voice harsh and commanding. 

“Sorry?”

Aemond's eye narrows, "You heard me," he snaps, his voice cold. "Strip. Now."

He leans against the wall, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin shiver.

“Can you atleast turn?” You ask, biting your lip.

“No” 

You bite back a snarl and turn your back, Unlacing your dress quickly and then pulling off any undergarments. Aemond watches you intently, his eyes cutting into your back,

Your nipples harden at the chill in the air. Once you're completely undressed, he steps closer to you, his hand brushing against your bare shoulder. "Get in," he orders.

You sink into the hot water, feeling your muscles relax instantly, the smells of oils fill your nose but the knowledge that Aemond is watching you makes you feel uncomfortable, you pull your knees to your chest, wet hair surrounding your body. 

He moves closer, pulling up a stool, eye fixed on your frame. He reaches out a hand, running his fingers through a strand of wet hair that has fallen across your face. "You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.

You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fistfull of your hair, your chin rises upwards. 

“Don't test me, you're in my possession now. I can touch you however i please” He lets go of your hair, the back of his hand tracing the cheek he had just hit. 

Aemond stands up, grabbing a bar of lye soap and a cloth from a nearby table. He kneels down beside the bathtub, dunking the cloth into the water, and then lathering it up with the soap.He begins to slowly and methodically wash your body, his touch firm but surprisingly gentle. His eye watches your every reaction, taking in every shiver and flinch. You stare straight ahead. 

Aemond finishes washing your back and then moves to your legs, his hand gliding up your thigh, his touch sending shivers through your body. He pauses, his eye flicking to your face, his expression hard. "Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No”

Aemond chuckles at your response, his smirk returning. "I didn't expect you to," he says, his tone mocking.

He runs the cloth over your legs, his hand moving higher, gliding up your inner thigh. His other hand snakes round your chest, moving to your shoulder, pinning you against the side of the tub.

“Stop!” you push against his hand but it only grips tighter against your shoulder, you feel the blood rush to the spot his fingers press into.

"I don't think so," he says.

His hand moves higher, and his fingers brush against the sensitive flesh between your legs. He looks at your expression, watching your face for any sign of fear or pleasure. You struggle against his grip, but it's useless, his strength is much greater than yours, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin.

“Please stop,” you cry out.

His hand continues to move slowly, his touch becoming more intimate.

Aemond looks at you with mock sympathy. "Please stop?" he repeats, his tone drenched in sarcasm. "You're so sweet when you beg like that." His grip on your shoulder tightens even further, and his hand moves higher, brushing against your most sensitive spot. "But I'm not going to stop," he says, his voice low and commanding.

He continues to move his hand slowly, his thumb pressing against you in a way that makes you gasp, you spite yourself. His eye is fixed on your face, watching your reactions closely.

"You might as well give in," he says, his voice soft and persuasive. "It will make things so much easier for you." 

His hand moves again, stroking you in a way that sends ripples of pleasure through your body, despite your attempts to resist. His body is fully pressed against yours now, his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck. You struggle in his touch, holding back a moan. His hand from your shoulder moves to clasp around your neck. 

His hand moves faster now, his fingers and palm working in tandem to bring you to the edge. His other hand grips your throat, holding you in place, as he continues his assault on your senses. You try to hold back, biting back moans. He grins in your efforts, fingers working your clit faster, You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and Aemond can tell. His hand moves even faster, driving you towards the peak of ecstasy. “Just let go” he whispers against your neck.

“No!” you whine.

"Just let it happen.", it drives you to the brink of insanity, and you don't think you can hold back anymore, his thumb brushes against you, and everything you had been avoiding snaps, he feels you squirm underneath him, teary eyed, silent scream. He lets out a satisfied laugh. Fingers still moving against your skin, it begins to feel like too much. 

“Too much, please”

Aemond's hand finally slows, his touch becoming gentler as you come down from your high. He pulls away, standing up and watching you with a smug grin on his face, his fingers run against your closed mouth. “Open”

You shake your head at him, put his fingers into your mouth anyway, you gag, he laughs at the sound and pushes further into your mouth anyway, drool pools at the side of your mouth, he releases you with a wet pop and you slump into the side of the bath, watching his next move.

His hand moves down your neck, his fingers tracing over your collarbone, his touch leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. “Get dressed” he points to the clothes horse with a new gown on it laid out for you. 

He watches you stand and dry yourself with a cloth, Aemond watches you dress your back turning as you try to lace your dress together, he grabs your shoulders and makes quick work of pulling the string tighter,watching as you gasp for air you feel like you can barely breathe. Ribs collapsing in on themself. 

“Back to the dungeon then?’

He nods, Leading you back down to the dungeon. Through winding hallways. You reach the room you were once in. You stumble forward, Aemond shuts the cell door, the clanging echoing against the walls of your cell, he leaves you, room barren apart from the cot in the corner. You sit on the Cot, it feels as though the walls are closing in on you. You try to calm your breathing, but the realisation of what Aemond had done hits you more than anything. He had pulled pleasure apart from your body with ease. 

The hours pass slowly, you try to sleep but all you can do is toss on the straw mattress, by morning a guard throws a piece of bread in your cell. It hits the dirty floor, brown mud and flys encasing it, you don't eat it. And then more hours pass and the same thing happens, you chew at your nails. The candles burn slowly, a fly buzzes, the smells of sweat and dirt closes in on you. 

It feels like minutes and days, time is all muddled up, you’re asleep one moment and the next your fingers are encased with dirt and blood, people shout out and cry. The candles get replaced. You haven't spoken in so long, eating hasn't even crossed your mind yet takes toll on your body, you begin to dream of twisting shadows and watery lands, cities beneath the ocean, a skeleton pierced with a sword through the eye. 

It feels like months have passed, and you believe yourself to be going mad, the isolation has turned your thoughts wild, your beginning to lose your grip or reality, you pray to the old gods, begging on your knees to the guards who pass by, but the days pass as usual. 

You hook your hands around the rusted prison, reaching a hand out to still the guard making his rounds, he turns to you. He stops in his tracks, eyeing you cautiously."What do you want?" he asks, his voice gruff and filled with irritation.

Your throat feels raw and scratchy as you try to talk, only coming out in quiet whispers “please,I~ need” your throat feels like sand. 

The guard shakes his head and continues on his rounds, ignoring your pleas. You're left alone once again, tears prick at your eyes as you sink into the thin mattress, you wail.

The loneliness and despair seem to close in around you, suffocating you.

More weeks pass and you barely move in your cot, bloodied fingers tracing the wall. There's a set of footsteps that stop outside your cell, candle light casting a shadow on to the wall, it pulls you out of your daze. 

You sigh, the shadow moves closer to your cell, face obscured by the darkness. “Are you still alive there?” it is but a whisper, low and soft.

“Yes” you mutter, you shit in your cot, gazing up at the figure. 

“You dont look like you've eaten much” they peer down at you, the tight dress now hangs off your shoulder. You sit up. 

The man pushes back the hood of his cloak, uncovering his face, his hair bright white. You can see that he's wearing an eyepatch over one eye, and his expression is unreadable.

He looks at you for a moment, his gaze taking in your dishevelled, malnourished appearance.

“Aemond” you whisper, your voice crackles. 

His face softens, hand reaching through the bars to grab at your hand, you nearly flinch at the contact. He pauses, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Easy," he whispers, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not going to hurt you." 

You gaze up at him, he pulls out a key from under his cloak, unlocking the door.He steps inside. Standing there for a moment, his gaze fixed on you as you look up at him. "Can you stand?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

You nod, Feeling like a newly born doe as you struggle to stand, legs buckling from under yourself, he reaches out and stills you, hand around your waist. He smells like old books and dragon fire. 

"It's alright," he says, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you."

“How long?” 

Aemond thinks for a second, he leads you out the cell slowly, steering you down the dungeons, he’s patient as you step up the steps slowly, his hand near your back for support. “Nearly three moons”  You nod at the revelation. He continues to guide you down the castle hallways.His steps slow, matching your pace. 

"You look terrible," he says, his voice blunt but not unkind. "Have they been feeding you?"

“Scraps of mouldy bread every morning” you bite your cheek.his grip tightens on your waist. “you left me down there” you cry, your lip wobbles. The corridors wind on until you find yourself in front of a big oak door. 

He speaks softly voice filled with a hint of regret. “I had too.” 

“Had too?” the knight opens the door, it creeks slightly, you walk inside books toppled over on chairs and tables, along with scrolls. The fire roars, a platter of food is laid out on the oak table. He guides you over on the bed in the corner. You let him fuss with your dress until you're in some kind of cotton nightgown, he touches you like your glass, He pours you a glass of water. You sip slowly. 

“You wanted me to break in there”

"Yes," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted you to feel broken”,his hand runs tenderly across your face, you still yourself trying not to chase it with your cheek “And now look at you, like clay in my hands, mine to hold however i see fit” You look up at him with wet eyes, his thumb rubs gently over your cheek. He steps closer to you. He runs his thumb over your lips. “You must be hungry.”

You nod, He steps away, moving over to a table in the corner of the room where a tray of food has been set out. He picks up a plate and brings it back over to you, setting it down in your lap. “Eat” You eat slowly, picking part of cheese and meat. You find yourself filling up quickly.

“Are you tired?” 

Your head nods quickly, the thought of sleep is terrifying to you in such a big room. “You may sleep here.” He peels back the covers, taking the plate from your lap, you climb in, and he tucks the covers up to your neck. You feel exhaustion wash over you, although you're so close to him there's a sense of loneliness within you, you turn to your side. “Relax” he whispers.

“Can you hold me?” you stutter. 

Aemond seems surprised but you seem so desperate for human connection after so long he slides his arm under you, pulling you closer, you're pressed into his back tightly. He tries to soothe you, hand running through your hair, but it only knots. Your body grows less rigid as you begin to fall asleep in his arms. He watches you succumb to sleep, body growing limp. 

Hehehehehehe (evil laughter)

Peak Targaryen beauty🧎🏻‍♀️

THEM ALICENT CURLS FIT HIM TOO WELL SIR- 🙇🏻‍♀️

art credits : ( @strangleen ) on TikTok

𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐯𝐬 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 : ( @darejani-artist )

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧, 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐈 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧, 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧, 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧, & 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧.

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 : ( 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲𝐭𝐨𝐦𝟎𝟕𝟏𝟐 ) 𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧, 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 & 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝟔 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 & 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐍!??!!

( 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝’𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 & 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚. 𝐀𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, & 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲. 𝐀𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫. 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 & 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬, & 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬. 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝟓𝟎 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐜? 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝? ) 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞. ( 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐈’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧. ) 

“ 𝐖𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 “

𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝😫