Cozycottage

Synopsis: Ormund and Reader adjust to their new quarters in Tumbleton.

Author's Note: Hello everyone. I was inspired to write this after seeing the latest House of the Dragon episode (featuring the unhinged and dreamy Ormund). Hope you enjoy the fic. :)

CW: some sexual content, Ormund being an ass, Reader being dismissive of the Footly's, the Footly's bed being featured in the sexual content, mention of gelding, mention of bad soldier

You had accompanied Ormund on the road during the last few months of his campaign for King Aegon.

So when you were informed by your Lord husband of House Hightower’s new allegiance to Rhaenyra, you were expecting a swift return to Old Town.

But Ormund had other plans.

In the privacy of your pavilion he confided in you.

“Would you remain by my side and see Daeron sit on the Iron Throne?” he asked.

You simply stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Of course. I’d follow you anywhere, my love.”

So you made your way to Tumbleton.

~

The initial transition had been rocky.

Thousands of Hightower soldiers were scattered across the town, crowding into already cramped homes. 

There were sure to be difficulties that would arise.

Ormund had secured lodgings in the home of Lord and Lady Footly.

While he strategized with his counselors, the Lord and Lady gave you a tour.

“As we were explaining to your Lord husband,” Lady Footly said. “This is our ancestral home.”

“I vaguely remember a mention of that.” 

The Lady Footly glared at her husband who nervously spoke.

“Forgive us Lady Hightower, it is just, the sheer amount of people here. It is overwhelming, is it not?”

You hummed in agreement.

“Yes, your home is rather small compared to what we are used to, but it will have to do for now.”

Lady Footly opened her mouth to speak only for you to interrupt.

“Thank you for this tour my lord and lady but I must return to my husband. When you have a spare moment please send your cook to see me. His lordship will require meals suited to his palette.

Lady Footly scoffed. 

“This is outrageous! Where are we supposed to sleep?”

You pondered her question.

“Oh yes we have taken refuge in your bedchamber, and we are grateful. Do not fret, I am sure there is room in the servants quarters.”

Before the quarrel could escalate Daeron emerged before you.

“Forgive the interruption my Lady, but Lord Hightower requests your presence.”

You nodded.

“Of course, my prince.”

Lady Footly pushed past the two of you while her husband scurried behind her. When they had turned the corner you looked back to your husband's ward.

“Daeron, you are a prince of the realm. You must never tolerate such disrespect from such insignificant people. 

He nodded.

“Yes my lady.”

~

Later that night you found yourself in the Footly’s bed being vigorously fucked by your husband.

“Ormund,” you murmured into his ear.

You clung onto his broad shoulders as he thrusted into you.

Ormund took a perverse pride in feeling how desperately your cunt clenched around his cock. 

You unraveled shortly after with your husband following behind.

~

You rested your head on Ormund’s chest, the flimsy bedsheets covering your waist and nothing else.

“I loved watching you handle that earlier,”you said. “The soldier in your charge.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. 

“A gelding felt appropriate.”

“You were so commanding,” you continued. “And devilishly handsome of course.”

He laughed. 

“I commend you on your strength to wait until we made it to the bedroom before you stripped me bare.”

You lazily ran your index finger up and down his stomach.

“The Footly’s voiced their displeasure with me about losing their bedchamber. Although, after looking at Lord Footly, I cannot imagine why his lady wife would have been eager to reclaim it.”

Your husband slowly pushed you on your side and positioned himself behind you.

“I’d wager you are the first woman to be properly fucked in this bed,” he suggestively said.

You took his hand and guided it to your still soaking cunt.

“And I’ll wager I will be the first to be fucked more than once in this bed.”

He leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“I’ll take that bet.”

~

Synopsis: Aemond's wife attempts to get him to bond with his brother, leading to disastrous results.

Author's Note: Hey guys. This is my first fic for this fandom. Obviously I'm an Aemond fan. I would love to write for other characters eventually. Any thoughts and feedback is appreciated.

CW: getting drunk, Aegon being an ass, mentions of past sexual encounters, references to season 2 episode 3, Ulf cameo

Aemond entered your chambers to find you studying a piece of parchment at your desk.

“Another raven from Dorne?” Aemond asked.

You looked up from your spot.

“A letter from my older sister,” you explained.

“That is the third raven from your family this month alone,” he observed. 

You set the parchment aside and made your way to your bed. 

“They miss me,” you stated as a matter of factly. “We’ve always been close.”

“Hm,” he responded. “What a foreign concept.”

You pulled the covers back and crawled into bed. 

Aemond pulled his undershirt over his head and let it fall to the floor, then he pulled his eyepatch off and tossed it on the nightstand.

“Surely you and your family have confided in one another throughout the years,” you said. 

He scoffed as he climbed onto the bed to lay beside you.

“I assure you that has never been the case.”

He pulled you close and allowed you to lay your head on his bare chest.

“I see,” you murmured. 

In truth you and Aemond had been married for only a short period of time. 

Originally a noble woman from Dorne, your marriage to Aemond had been arranged to strengthen ties between the regions. So your understanding of the customs and characters from the Red Keep was still unfamiliar, beyond the briefings you had received from advisors and the members of court. 

You knew the royal family behaved rather rigidly with one another, but you had assumed that hadn’t always been the case. 

“Does it displease you?” you asked. “Not being…close?”

Aemond mindlessly traced his index finger up and down your back while he pondered your question.

“Perhaps when I was younger, but not anymore. You have to accept these things as they are.”

For both your sakes you wished you had just dropped the issue, unfortunately that would not be the case. 

~

The next day you sat alongside Haelena in the garden. 

She had invited you to spend time with her and the twins. You had grown to enjoy her company during your time in the Red Keep, and she yours. The two of you watched as the twins' nanny led them through the garden. 

You shared your conversation with Aemond from the previous night. 

“Aemond was a sensitive child,” she confessed. “He would try to join in with Aegon and his friends, but they always kept him away.”

Your heart broke at the mention of that. 

You pictured a small boy vying from companionship. 

“It is difficult to grow close to anyone here,” she continued. “You’re always reminded that a rat lingers around every corner.”

Jaehaera tottered towards the two of you and held out a crumpled purple flower towards her mother. Haelena smiled at the young girl and gently took the small gift. She smiled back and ran off to rejoin her brother and nanny.

“It seems, despite the difficulty, some manage to grow close to one another,” you mused.

Haelena nodded. 

“I think that could be said of you and Aemond. He seems different around you. More relaxed.”

A warmness spread through your chest at that observation, but a hollow feeling remained.

“I just wish…he could feel camaraderie with his loved ones in the way that I do. I know that his upbringing was different from my own, but surely it is never too late to build those bonds.”

Haelena thought for a moment before her eyes widened. 

“Aegon has plans this evening to go out with some of his kingsguard.”

“Do you think he would allow Aemond to join them?”

“I will see he does. But can you convince Aemond?”

~

“I am unsure about this,” Aemond muttered.

You ignored his whinging and continued fastening his doublet.

“Haelena assured me that Aegon was more than willing to accommodate you.”

Aemond looked at you entirely unconvinced. 

“Furthermore,” you continued. “A night in the city will allow you the privilege of spending time among your subjects.”

“I do not wish to spend time among bumbling smallfolk.”

You took a step back and gave him an incredulous look.

“Aemond!” you scolded. “They are your subjects.”

He rolled his eye and retreated to the nightstand to retrieve his eyepatch.

“I apologize for the crassness but I would rather spend the evening with you than play the part of the doting brother.”

You sighed before making your way towards him.

Before he could put on his eyepatch to cup his face in your hands.

“I know it is silly my love but I’ve been thinking a great deal lately. About us, and our future family. When the gods bless us with children, I would like them to know a family life similar to my own. One of love and close bonds.” 

Aemond said nothing.

You were sweet, your very touch made him want to melt into you.

He could not expect you to know the harshness to every aspect of his upbringing. His ailing father, his rigid mother, his awful brother. All the harm had been encapsulated in the very scar that decorated his face. But he could not say such things, not to the woman he loved. So he offered you the smallest hint of a smile and put his eyepatch on.

“Very well,” he said. 

A light knock sounded against the door.

“Enter,” you stated.

Your maid, Maeve, entered the room and bowed before speaking. 

“Forgive the intrusion m’lady, but King Aegon has requested the prince regent join him and his kingsguard in the throneroom.”

Aemond gave you a longing look.

“I’ve been summoned.”

You smiled and chastely pressed your lips against his. When you pulled away he reluctantly retrieved his cloak from an armchair and left.

Maeve waited until the doors shut before returning your attention to you. 

“Is there anything else you need m’lady?”

Your attention wandered to the growing pile of letters on your desk.

“Yes Maeve, I will require your assistance on my correspondence.”

She nodded. 

“Very good m’lady.”

~

Aemond entered the room to find his brother lounging on his throne surrounded by three members of his kingsguard. Leon, Martyn, and Eddard if he remembered their names correctly. 

Something about Aegon that he had always envied as a child was how easy it was for him to make friends. 

He was a rat but even they had the loyalty of fleas. 

Aegon’s insufferable laugh pierced his ears and for a moment he contemplated turning around. 

Before he could, Aegon's gaze found him in the entryway of the throneroom. 

He pointed to him.

“My baby brother emerges from the shadows.”

Aemond suppressed a groan and made his way over to the throne.

The members of the kingsguard quickly stood up. Their demeanors instantly went from relaxed to stiff. 

Aemond found he had that effect on a great many people. 

Except you of course. 

“Good evening brother,” he cordially offered. 

His brother snorted.

“Good evening brother,” he mimicked. “My gods does your face ever relax?”

The kingsguard stood around Aegon awkwardly averting their eyes. The King could do whatever he wanted, but insulting a prince was treason. 

“Shall we go?” Aemond asked. 

Aegon stood up.

“Of course, let us go.”

~

The group navigated Kingslanding in the cover of darkness. 

Aegon had insisted, much to Sir Criston’s dismay, that they have no escort. 

“We have Aemond, my loyal hound,” he had declared.

They went to a tavern where the ale was bitter and the clientele was rambunctious.

When they entered the tavern Aegon stood before the crowd expectantly as all the patrons stood up. 

A man with gray hair led the chants.

“All hail the King!”

“All hail the King!”

Aegon slowly led the group further inside, maintaining a regal facade as he did so. 

Aemond could have laughed at him.

Craven fool.

“Drinks for all. At the pleasure of the crown!” he declared. 

The tavern erupted into cheers and soon returned to its lively banter. 

Aegon led them to a table and everyone sat down. 

The barmaid hastily set cups down and filled them with cheap beer. 

As she turned to leave, Aegon reached out and caressed her bottom.

She jumped before scurrying away.

“Beautiful figure on that one,” he mused.

“Aegon,” Aemond muttered. 

The older brother raised his brows. “Oh you fancy the bar wench? Interesting, I always thought more experienced women were your forte.”

He clenched his jaw before downing the beer in his cup.

He lifted the cup and another barmaid swiftly refilled it. 

“What is the brothel around the corner from here?” Aegon asked. 

“I believe it is called Mother’s, your grace.” Martyn answered. 

“Yes, it was there that my brother became a man with an old whore. Circe or Silly?”

Aemond downed another cup before getting up and making his way to the barkeep. 

The old man stammered before him. 

“M-my Prince. What an honor.”

“I require a bottle of whatever the strongest thing you have is,” he said plainly.

“Right away.”

He left the prince to fetch his request from the storeroom. 

“Aemond,” Aegon called out. “After this how about we make our way over to see your lady love Silky?”

Aemond ignored him. 

“The dornish girl has got the man tied around her little finger,” he cackled. “Perhaps she has something in common with Grandmother Silpy.

The barkeep mercifully reappeared from the storeroom with a bottle.

“Wine from Volantis. I have heard it can knock a Dothraki warrior off his horse.”

Aemond tossed a small purse of gold on the counter and walked back to the table where Aegon was still rambling.

“So I told Tyland the cunt-”

Without warning Aemond’s arm shot out and he grabbed Aegon by the back of his hair. 

The drunken raucousness continued around them.

He leaned close and hissed in his ear.

“Never speak of my wife that way again. Or else.”

He released him and took his seat.

The kingsguard sat frozen awaiting Aegon to speak. 

The king sat up shakily as the prince regent uncorked the wine with a small dagger and began to drink straight from the bottle. 

After a moment he cleared his throat and held up his cup for a refill.

~

You had a lovely evening. 

After finishing your correspondence you had some tea sent up and chatted with Maeve over leftover lemon cakes from dessert. 

She was filling you in on the latest gossip of the keep when a loud laugh echoed from outside your door. 

You stood up just as the door opened to reveal Aemond being held by two kingsguard. The other guard held up Aegon. 

You could immediately tell they were both incredibly drunk. 

You quickly tightened your robe around your frame. 

“What is going on here?”

Leon dared to speak. 

“Forgive us princess. His royal highness engaged the king in a drinking contest of sorts. Then a wrestling match, which led to a brawl.”

Aegon pointed to his brother and laughed.

“Aemond the fierce.”

Aemond stood up straight before bursting out into a fit of laughter. 

Maeve jumped at the sound and the kingsguard members could only stare in horror. 

None of them knew he was capable of laughter. 

Aemond reached out and placed his hand on Aegon’s face. With all his strength he shoved him back and he fell against Martyn, who managed to catch him. This caused the king to laugh again. Then the prince pushed Eddard and Leon away and stumbled forward. You rushed towards your husband and tried to take him in your arms but he simply sank to the floor and pulled a tyroshi rug over him like a blanket. 

“Do you require any assistance, princess?” Eddard asked.

“No,” you sighed. “I will take care of this.”

The kingsguard took that as a sign to return Aegon to his room. All three prayed to the gods; neither brother would remember the night.

Once the doors shut behind them you turned your attention back to Aemond. 

“My love, rise and I will take you to your bed.”

Maeve cautiously approached behind you. 

“Perhaps we could carry him?”

The girl caught Aemond’s attention and he shot up.

“Daeron? What in seven hells are you doing here?”

You quickly put his arm around your shoulder and guided him to his chambers. 

Maeve quickly took his other side and by some miracle you made it to his bed. 

He took off his eyepatch and threw it across the room. Then he pulled the leather tie out of his hair and shook it out like a dog. 

You would have laughed if you didn’t feel so guilty. 

You undid his doublet while Maeve pulled back his covers.

“His sword my lady?” she asked. 

“It is not on him,” you muttered.

You pulled off his doublet. 

“Where is your sword Aemond?”

Your husband shut his eyes. 

“I gave it to the barmaid and told her to use it when the time was right.”

You and Maeve exchanged a look. 

You coaxed him to sit on the ottoman. 

“Do not fret, I will have Sir Criston retrieve it in the morning.” 

You pulled off his boots and had him stand again.

“Get in bed,” you softly commanded. 

He walked over to the side of the bed and collapsed. With Maeve’s help you lifted his legs and covered him up.

He quickly fell asleep. 

“Thank the gods he did not have the sword,” you whispered. 

Maeve looked up at you.

“Should I fetch the maester?”

You shook your head. 

“Wait until morning. And bring an extra chamber pot.”

~

The next morning Blackfyre had been returned to the Red Keep by an anonymous woman. 

Grandmaester Orwyle had administered milk of the poppy which Aemond downed instantly. You had spent the day holding his hair back while he emptied his stomach into the chamber pot. He laid on his stomach clutching his pillow while you rubbed his back. 

“Please forgive me my love,” you begged.

“Why do you need my forgiveness?” he muttered into the pillow.

“I conspired with Haelena to make this happen. I should have respected your wishes.”

He forced himself to sit up so he could face you.

“I understand what you are trying to do (Name), but my family is not like yours and they never will be.”

He reached out and took your hand. 

“I can only promise to love and protect our future children, and you, with all my strength. And I hope that will be enough for you.”

Yes, it was more than enough.

~