Aemond Targaryen x Sister! Reader
Summary: Alicent raised her youngest daughter to not commit the same sins as her first two children. But behind her back, an intense devotion already existed between you and Aemond, one kept strictly secret until an accident forced the prince to choose the fire in his veins and the love for his sister instead of duty and obedience. (2.2K)
Warnings/Tags: Mommy Issues (Thanks Alicent), Secret relationship, severe injuries and descriptions of blood, family trauma, Canonical Targaryen incest, Angst with happy ending, Religious Guilt, The faith of the seven, Forbidden Love, Protective Aemond Targaryen, No physical description of reader (only targaryen features), Slight Canon divergence (due to timeline)
Notes: I´ve been obsessed with Aemond since the first season of HOTD (I even had posters), so I had a lot of ideas that faded away with time, but I wanted to post when the 3 season came, i hope you enjoy it, I tried my best. If you want a story from some other character, let me know, especially I would love to write something about jacaerys and aerion.
Also I took the images from pinterest, credits to the authors!
Pd: maybe there will be a part two?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
You notice it first at the wedding of your brother and sister. It was during your tenth name day; you remember it vividly, the banners of the people present, the taste of the food served that night, the decoration of the sept, and the look of disgust on your mother’s face when Aegon kissed Helaena in front of the septon. Alicent couldn’t accept Targaryen customs, especially those that shouldn’t be allowed due to the immorality of the actions, because the Seven denied these sins. But she was pressured; Viserys wanted to accept the proposition made by Rhaenyra, but she wasn’t going to allow her child to marry a bastard, and she wouldn’t be separated from her sweet Helaena. So Alicent´s father, the Hand of the King, conspired and made his only way happen, binding the two eldest of her five children in marriage.
In the years that followed, your mother’s obsession with purity and honor only grew. One evening while brushing your hair, she whispered into your ear like a warning: “Decency must prevail in this house. We must pray to be forgiven for the blood in our veins and do our duty as the Seven command.” Alicent truly believed her prayers had worked, that the gods had smiled upon them. She looked at you and Aemond and saw exactly what she wanted: two obedient and respectful siblings who kept their eyes downcast and their hands to themselves. She was blind to the truth, one that only you and Aemond knew.
It had begun years ago before he lost his eye. It started in the quiet corners of the library, where the scent of old parchment and dust protected you from the rest of the world. While Aegon was out already mapping out the silk streets and Helaena wandered in her dreams, you and Aemond would sit huddled over massive, ancient tomes of Valyrian history. He was just a boy then, quiet, observant and carrying heavy loneliness that mirrored your own. Together you began to study the language of your ancestors, it was important to him maybe to prove something despite his lack of a dragon. At first, it was just a way to pass the time, but it quickly became your greatest rebellion. High Valyrian was a tongue your mother couldn't speak and deeply distrusted, after all, it belonged to the dragons, to the old ways she so desperately wanted to wash away with her prayers.
As the years passed into one another, the boy you knew grew into a formidable, hardened prince, while you followed the path of your mother, becoming the perfect princess for the realm. This change only caused the nature of your secret to shift and that language became the connection for everything you weren't allowed to feel.
It started slowly and fearfully, with your meetings in the library changing hours so you could meet without your mother asking questions, followed by hands lingering a bit too long under the table when you sat together. Soon, you were using the ancient tongue to whisper things that would have made Alicent weep: soft promises of devotion, hidden meanings spoken right in front of the entire court and breathless confessions meant only for the dark. The only way your connection could truly be free beyond anyone's denial, had to be through dragons.
When you petitioned for it first, you thought it would never happen. You had a dragon, one that was born in your cradle and one that you had ridden by yourself before, but when you expressed that you wanted to fly with Aemond, Alicent merely said she would take it into consideration. It was Viserys who truly swayed the tides. The King insisted upon it: “Targaryens and dragons cannot be separated, my dear. You must allow her to take to the skies with her brother…Vhagar’s shadow is wide and Aemond shall keep her safe from harm.” That was the first time you had ever felt a sense of support from the King.
No matter how much Alicent wished to refuse, she knew the deep and intense connection both riders shared with their dragon, it was a bond she could neither understand nor break. So from time to time, she could only watch in silent resignation as the two of you disappeared in a carriage toward the Dragonpit, only to emerge moments later, oaring together through the skies.
That day was just like any other. It began with going to the sept to pray to the gods early on the morrow, followed by breaking fast with your mother, grandfather, and siblings; everyone except the slippery Aegon and the dying king. Afterward, there was playtime with your niece and nephews alongside Helaena, all while you waited for Aemond to finish his sword training. Usually, the two of you would head to the library together right after, but today was different. Today was riding day.
Aemond was waiting for you by the courtyard, the heavy wheelhouse carriage already prepared. Publicly, he was the very picture of the prince your mother had sculpted, composed, dutiful, and impeccably formal; just like you. It was no secret that both of you were raised by Alicent’s values, grabbing onto your mother’s skirt listening to all of her ideas and thoughts. As you approached him, he stepped forward and extended his leather-gloved hand to help you ascend the steps of the carriage. To any passing person, it was a mere gesture of common sibiling courtesy but as your fingers brushed against his palm, his grip lingered for a fraction of a second too long, a silent reassurance meant only for you.
Since Vhagar was far too massive to be held within the depths of the Dragonpit, residing instead in the open fields outside the city walls, Aemond merely accompanied you on carriage to fetch your own dragon. Since the beast had been born and raised by your side, the dragonkeepers often commented that the creature contained a child's heart inside its massive body. It showed, especially in its passion for performing playful turns and spins in the open air.
Upon your arrival, as the dragonkeepers brought out your dragon, you walked towards the beast, who chirped happily at the very sight of you, but before you could even reach it, chaos erupted; A stray goat slipped past its handlers, screaming in terror as it runned across the stone floor. It was a minor chaos but enough to trigger the youthful and erratic spirit of your dragon. In a sudden playful burst of predatory instinct, the beast lunged toward the prey, its massive tail whipping through the air with careless force. You never saw it coming, the heavy scaled tail struck you down, throwing you back a few feet against the stone floor of the pitt and then, the world shattered into darkness and the sounds of Aemond’s panicked screams fading away.
“Get the maestres!” He ran until he was by your side, blood was already pooling from a sharp cut on the back of your head, caused by the stone floor.
“My prince, let me-“ a dragonkeeper stammered, stepping forward.
“You´d lose your hand if you touch her” Aemond snarled, with trembling but fiercely deliberate strength, Aemond carefully picked you up from the ground, cradling your broken form against his chest. He didn’t let you go, not through the frantic ride back nor up the steps of the Red Keep, just until you were placed gently in your bed and the maesters took over.
Aemond stood there in silent, like a specter at the edge of the bed watching the maestres work. He could feel the heavy density of the blood, drying up against his leather clothing, stiffening the fabric with every passing minute. He was a prince of the realm, trained in arms since he was young; he was well used to the metallic scent and the grim feeling of blood, he saw it on the training grounds every day but as he looked down at his stained sleeves, a suffocating horror clawed at his throat. He couldn´t stand the thought. It wasn´t the blood of a training partner or an enemy, it was your blood.
One of the elderly maestres stepped backward, murmuring a quiet apology as his robes brushed against Aemond´s rigid body. The room was chaotic, the white hair and blood-soaked bandages yet the prince refused to move even an inch to give the healers room to tend to your wound.
Then, the door to the chambers burst open, breaking the silence as Alicent rushed in, her face pale with panic and fear, her eyes wide with terror as she took in the sight of your unmoving form and her son covered in blood, her breath catching sharply in her throat.
"Aemond..." your mother gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she noticed the blood in his clothes. "Is that... is that her blood?"
Aemond didn't answer. He didn´t even looked at her. His lone eye remained fixed entirely on your pale face but Alicent stepped closer, she grabbed his arm to pull him away from the bedside.
"I knew it...I knew no good would come from this" your mother whispered, her voice trembling as she clutched his arm tightly "When will it be enough? Have those beasts not taken enough from my children? You already lost an eye to them, Aemond! And now I must watch your sister bleed on the bed because you insist on chasing your customs? Go clean yourself and let the maesters do their work!" her voice cracking with grief as the panic turned into fury.
"I am not leaving her side," he replied, his voice dropping into a dangerous and unyielding whisper that cut through her grip.
"Aemond, please!" she pleaded one more time, but she did not get an answer.
Defeated by her son's devotion, too exhausted by her own worry and terror to keep fighting him, Alicent could only sink into a chair by the far corner of the room. She pulled out her seven-pointed star, her lips moving in a quiet, frantic murmur of prayers as she wept for her daughter. For years, the princess had been so perfectly behaved that suitors from every corner of the realm flooded King's Landing with betrothal offers that were often declined; her hand was reserved for a future that loomed with war, where a marriage pact could secure an alliance that could bring victory. Alicent had raised her to be the mortal likeness of the Maiden herself: pure, obedient, and always dutiful. And now that image was gone, lost in a blood-stained bed.
Hours bled into the night and Aemond did not leave your side. Once the maestres finally finished binding your wound, they slipped out of the chamber with a quiet reverent bow towards the still awake prince, leaving him in a suffocating silence. Alicent, completely exhausted by her emotions and frantic praying, had eventually fallen to sleep in the far corner of the room, her fingers still loosely grabbing her golden seven-pointed star. By the time Aemond noticed, his posture finally broked.
The terrifying, unyielding prince disappeared and was replaced by the boy who used to seek comfort by your side and share your loneliness in the dark corners of the library. The leather of his suit creaked softly as he closed the remaining distance to your bedside, dropping to his knees on the cold floor by mere exhaustion. He didn't care about the dried blood ruining his clothes, he only cared about the slow rise and fall of your chest, that movement made him remember that you were still alive.
Trembling in a way he would never allow the realm to see, his bare hand reached out, gently intertwining his fingers with yours. His palm was warm, a contrast to the terrifying coldness that your hand was. As if your soul recognized his touch even through the heavy fog of exhaustion, your eyelashes fluttered. The room was dim and your head throbbed with an ache, but your mind was whole, you slowly remembered the dragon, the fall, and the sound of his panic.
Turning your head slightly on the pillow, your gaze found his eye.
"Aemond..." you whispered, your voice rough and dry from the milk of the poppy.
A gasp escaped him, a sound of pure relief. He leaned in immediately, burying his face against your intertwined hands, his shoulders shaking as the terrifying weight of the last few hours finally crashed over him. Slowly he lifted his head as he moved closer towards you, so his voice wouldn't carry across the room. It was an instinct, maybe it was the blood on his veins that made him forget the language of your mother’s prayers, the language that forced you to keep you slave to duty. Instead, he tore open his soul in the old ways.
"Ao māzigī syt jōhāeragon, ñha jorli," he whispered, his voice a breathless in High Valyrian. (You came back to me, my love). As leaned closer, his forehead now rested gently against yours, his hot breath brushing your skin as his thumb traced your knuckles. "Ao amāzen. Nyke ao rāenagon zūgāndan... jēda issī syt hāre pūatagon da. Ao jorlān jorlāgon, konir perzys sēte rāenagon kosat da." (I was afraid to lose you...it´s time to stop hiding, to love each other so much that the gods themselves will not be able to tear us apart.)
Hearing his promise caused a rush of warmth that flooded your chest, overriding the physical pain. Alicent could pray and curse your blood all she wanted, but as you looked into Aemond's eye, you knew the truth. The fire in your veins belonged to each other; you were bound in more than just blood or traditions, it was pure love.
Squeezing his hand back with what little strength you had left, you let out a weak, genuine smile. You were his, and he was yours.
jacobvanloon
jbbartram-illu
stormborns
annaxmalina
2087
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
ellievsbear
