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The Bile rose in your throat as you saw him approach, clad in a thin linen shirt and simple brown breeches; your husband's murderer. You husband had been nothing, no one of note. A minor lord to an even smaller house, nothing compared to him. A Prince of the Realm, the second-born son and spare Heir to his Grace, King Viserys: Aemond Targaryen. Punished only by the spite of his father to 'teach him a lesson'; a shame that lesson had come at the cost of your husband's life. It was a jest, a mere jest before Aemond lunged at him over the ornate feasting table and sliced through his throat as if he were a plump, roasted duck presented on a silver platter - it was a cruel jest, but a jest nonetheless. 

"An eye for an eye" your husband's brother announced as he slay Aemond's betrothed on a visit to Storm's End. Poor, kind, beautiful Floris Baratheon with her pale grey eyes and pin-straight, jet-black hair, truly a suitable match for a Prince of the Realm, was an innocent in this dreadful blood feud - you had hoped death came quickly to her, that it was merciful at least. It certainly came quick for your beloved brother in marriage, found beaten and broken from a flail on his journey home. It mattered no longer; not now that one of the four storms never raged, nor that your dutiful brother rotted in the earth, nor that your husband would never have a son. It was not that you loved your husband per se, more that it was convenient - a political marriage. An alliance that would strengthen your houses and pledge fealty. All of that now taken. Your husband, your dowry, your chastity, the alliance; all because of a Prince's pride. 

"An eye for an eye" your foolish, yet blameless father proclaimed as he brandished his blade at peace negotiations, too slow on the draw as Aemond rendered his long sword into his parchment-like skin and cutting him to ribbons; slices of his withered flesh landing in the pool of fabric at your skirt and crimson blood spraying betwixt your bosom. 'An eye for an eye?' It seems to leave the whole world blind. 

"An eye for an eye" the King commanded, gaze intent but hazed with milk of the poppy, slumped upon an intricately carved, white marble throne detailed with veins of pure gold and etched with symbols for the Seven; scales for the Father, olive branches for the Mother, interlocking rings for the Maiden, a lantern for the Crone, swords for the Warrior, a hammer for the Smith and a scythe for the Stranger. The Grand Sept devoured you whole; high domed roofs towered above you, candles lined the dimly lit space and crowded around aisles leading to the altars of the Seven. You stood there in a simple white gown, elegant embroidery of seven-pointed stars traced along the hems with an unadorned golden chain glistening at the bottom of your neck; at the altar of the Father, a colossal statue of his towering form shadowed you, scales balanced and look pensive. Waiting. You stood there waiting. Waiting for the kiss. The kiss that would seal the end of this tireless blood feud, unite the realm and perform your duty. As if you had not suffered enough; the death of your father, husband, brother in marriage and now you must kiss him, offer him pardon. A pardon to the man who stole your life away. 

His gaze never wavered from you, his singular, ethereal, sky-blue eye raking over your form fixedly; a small, upturned crook ghosted his lips when he made eye contact with your darting ones. It was as if he had peered into your soul and squeezed your hammering heart tight until it had stopped; breaths grew heavy as your chest heaved against your tight corset and trapping you inside its cage, your hands rung tight as if you were squeezing the last of the blood from your handkerchief that you had placed at your Lord Husband's throat to quell the bleeding. It mattered not as the blood continued to flow like a torrent as his eyes closed slowly and mouth agape in a silent scream; the blood seemed to seep into your skin and boil you from the inside. You shook your head to rid yourself of the dizzying thought, stumbling slightly before standing up straight, praying to the Old Gods and the New that this would be over quickly - But he noticed. Of course he noticed. Eye narrowed with blown pupils as if to drink in every ministration movement or reaction, his tongue poked at the side of this cheek as his grin grew wider like he was the cat who got the cream. He was unsullied. Truly immaculate in condition. His shirt barely dirtied, eye patch still affixed to his slightly, dishevelled, opalite hair. If he were not a Prince of the Realm, he would not have slept on a comfortable hay bed or eaten a warm meal. Remorse did not even grace his features, only that smirk. That smirk that kept itself fixated to you as he sauntered closer - Now you could observe him directly. No redness at his wrists where the shackles had rubbed them raw, no welts from endless whipping at the hands of the sadistic guards, no gauntness from starvation or pallid skin from the frozen underbelly of the castle jails. He was pristine. His milky white flesh unblemished, nails clean and feet not dirtied. He was stunning. 

You lifted your head to meet his then, mouth falling slightly ajar at the sight before you; angular jaw set in arrogance, a defined strong nose with high cheekbones dusted pink and that singular, almond shaped wide eye blown with lust. Lust? Towards you? His gaze trailed again, trickling down from your glassy doe-eyes to your lips, red raw from gnawing on them in frustration, all the way down across the line of your neck until it settled upon your bosom. Aemond leaned closer, inhaling deeply from his nose to take in the lavender scented oils that adorned your hair; his lips looked deliciously pink, full and soft, seemingly slick with perhaps beeswax or honey; they fell into his signature pout at the words of the High Septon. A small statured, balding man with wiry eyebrows, robed in white woven fabric decorated with gold threaded depictions of the Seven, his voice soft, resonant and gravelled with age; "And now we seal this with a kiss." Aemond bent his body forward, singular eye closing with yours as he lay a tender, chaste kiss upon your plump lips; they were soft indeed. A slight moan rippled through your body and remained stuck in your throat as his velvety lips moved against yours; you tried to step backwards, foot fumbling to take tentative steps. But his head followed yours to deepen the kiss; mouths open and wanting as your saliva entwines with his; Aemond's manacled hands reached out for you as if he were a tree root seeking water, fingers clawing at the corset of your dress and anchoring themselves in the cotton. On instinct you craned your head upwards to better accommodate for the staggering height difference as he pulled you close, hard chest and soft bosom meeting in the middle. Your eyes shooting open at the shock; irises drown in your pupils, floating in the wide expanse of white sclera at the horrified and disapproving stares of both your and your husband's family. 

"Enough!" The King mustered to announce, voice harsh and fading as coughs wrack through his fragile, decaying body. You both pulled back, hand flying to your trembling lips and stumbling backwards as white noise rung in your ears louder and louder, eyes tunnelling in on him. But Aemond did not stumble, instead he stood there with a sense of pride - chin raised in arrogance, smirk smug, chewing at the inside of his damned sweet lips and eye observing you again. A low melodic snicker leaving his feline grin, the cat who got the cream indeed, at the sight of your flushed, dishevelled form; your eyes now blown with lust and body aching feverishly towards him. It was as if you felt the flames roar in your belly as a dragon's would; "It is done." The High Septon proclaimed; "Blood feud settled." 

Aemond did not remember when he first noticed you - he did not remember whether it was at a small gathering of Lords in the Great Hall, at a Nameday celebration or at a Tourney where pathetic little Lordlings vied for your favour. Nor did he remember when simple noticing became darker, obsessive, when thoughts of you held his mind hostage at every hour from Bat to Nightingale, and took root there, festering. He had to have you. He decided. He had to feel you, touch you, taste you. He needed you to crave him, to indulge in your depraved baser instincts, to have you behold him as if he were some God, a salvation and you his most devout worshiper. He did not even remember what drew you to him, whether it was the way your elegant index finger coiled your soft hair in anxious habit or that hearty laugh and bright beaming smile when someone had amused you, or perhaps it was the way you avoided his gaze; eyes shy but wanting, twinkling irises that flooded black when your darting ones met his; yet he could always feel you staring when you thought he wasn't looking. Your husband was of little concern to him, he was a Prince, a Targaryen, closer to the Gods than men; killing him would be easy. After all, he was a pathetic little Lordling from a minor House, a fight would be little challenge. 

The feasting chamber sat deep within the maze of the Red Keep; low hanging ceilings decorated with heavy oaken beams and candle-lit chandeliers left the air hot and thick, sweat pooled at your neck and bodice as the weight of your intricately adorned gown anchored you to the floor, stifling you. His stare never left you, his long, lithe fingers intertwined as his elbows rested on the long trestle table; the warm light from the candles highlighting his beautifully angular features, shadows dancing on his alabaster skin. He is even more pristine this evening; citrus and smoke scents billow off his form, leaping in the air to dazzle your senses; his long, straight, silver hair a curtain of finery that reflected the warmth of the candlelight; his deep viridian almost pitch-black leathers cut to perfectly enhance his aquiline, lean form. You could not bear to behold him. The Feast was to be held in your late Lord Husband's honour, to settle the feud that had divided your Houses - But there he was, with no trace of remorse. Eye intently affixed to you and only you, as if you were the only one in the room, while yours flitted around the room like a dragon caged. Bouquets of pure white orchids and soft lilac hyacinths sat upon the dark wood table, their scent deep and sweet like the finest Reach honey and Essosi cloves; a fat roast duck sat at the head of the table where His Grace, KIng Viserys had sat, butchered by the skilful hand of the murderer astride from you; the King had retired to bed not long ago accompanied by Her Grace the Queen and the Lord Hand - it was only him now. 

Lords and Ladies of several Houses danced, drank and gorged in merriment from the Baratheons to your husband's House, all howled with red-faced abandon, voices ricocheting off the carved stone walls and oaken beams. Blood feud settled it seemed. 

His stare. 

The fatty butchered duck. 

The shrill of jovial voices. 

A wave of hot acidic bile once again rises threatening to spill forth and forming a knot in your throat that you cannot swallow; the crackle from the hearth ringing in your ears and mixing with the jests - Jests? All of this over a simple jest. A jest meant to humiliate the Prince, but still a jest. Your fingernails clutched desperately at the trestle table, scraping along it to pull yourself up as you stumble towards the balcony that overlooked the city; stomach violently churning as his eye pins you to the spot. 

The cold night air fanned over your sweltering form, unshackling you from the heavy gazes and suffocating aura trapped within the feasting chamber; breath finally returning to your lungs as you gripped onto the stone balcony and dabbed away the sticky sweat that clung to your smooth skin. Bright white stars danced along the rich hues of blue that enveloped the night sky; beneath lay the sprawling city of King's Landing. Faint golden light from glimmering lanterns dotted around the dark shadows of Flea Bottom's alleys were flanked by the silver crests rippling along Blackwater Bay while three predominant domed hills surrounded the inner-city walls. Overlooking the vast quietness of the city your shaking hands stilled as a sense of calm washed over you; the midnight breeze dampening the fire burning in your lungs and roiling of your belly. For the first time since your Lord Husband's death a subtle numbness spread across your aching bones, not in the way that one would weep, more peaceful; the birds still chirped, Lords still drank and Ladies still danced; even under the blanket of night the world still moved and you still breathed. 

It was like a game to Aemond. One of cat and mouse. Predator and prey. The hunter and the hunted. His chair scratched along the polished stone flooring with a horrific hissing sound, one fortunately deafened by the unbridled celebrations of the guests; he stood with quick precision; assured, measured steps fell silent as he reached the entrance to the balcony. You. Your silhouette framed against the swirling constellations of the blue tinted night sky, staring down into the expansive city you looked calm, serene even. He could leave you there. Admiring you from a distance Aemond stood in the ornately carved stone archway, eyes tracking your every move; every breath, every whisper of the wind on your skin, every bead of sweat that trickled down your neck. He could never leave you there. Whether it was the curve of your bright smile, the fullness of your perfect bosom or the way your pupils engorged your iris when you first laid eyes upon him; it did not matter now, for he knew he must lay claim to you. After all, you were to be his devoted worshipper and him your God. 

He strode forward silently, balancing on the balls of his feet and slowing his pace as he reached the rough-cut stone of the balcony; his breathing slowed to a silent whisper as he neared ever closer to your form. It was as if he was ready to pounce upon you and claim his kill, predator and prey, hunter and hunted, cat and mouse; but to his chagrin you turned suddenly, forcing him to straighten fully and clasp his hands behind his broad, athletic back. "M-my Prince!" you managed to stammer through the twisting of your tongue as the knot in your throat returned. Your body jolted instinctively, heart beating allegro against the confines of your chest as the heat pools in your cheeks to flood pink again. He inhales the sharp, cold air deeply through his nose, his crystalline gaze scans the city and narrows; exhaling only when he feels the warmth of your body fade from beside him, turning he grips your dainty wrist, anchoring you to the spot. "Why do you act so shy now, My Lady?" The breath in your lungs expels like a punch to the gut as you feel the warmth of his touch; his large, firm hand pinning you to the spot rather than that of his lone eye. "I do not know what you mean My Prince." His eye flits to the floor in amusement as the curve of his divine lips pull at his cheek sharply, his eye returns to you as he closes the gap with one large step; "Admit it." "Deepest apologies My Prince but I must return to-" He yanks you back with one sharp tug; your eyes darker than the night sky, the whites of your sclera only visible to him now. He leans dangerously close to your ear, vibrations tickling the shell; "You liked it, the kiss." 

The blood races past your ears muting the surrounding sounds; no birds chirping, no Lords stuck in their cups, no Ladies dancing along the silver stone floor; you pulled back in one abrupt movement, yanking your wrist free from his manacle-like grip, feet carrying themselves backwards towards the balcony exit. Aemond's predatory eye turned dark and frozen like the Long Lake of Winterfell; you were fast, but he was faster. Truly like the cat who got the cream and the mouse. Needy, harsh fingers dig into the sides of your bodice like knives and pulling you forward so his nose bumps against yours; his hot desperate breath ghosts along your lips, eyes wide and raving like a wild animal. "I heard you. I felt you. How your body aches for mine as if you were some common whore touting for coin. Do you deny it?" Aemond's dark eye searched yours for any trace of denial; nostrils flared and pearly teeth grind as the muscles of his skin pull tight in tension, claws sink deeper into your corset now as he shakes you in frustration; "Do you deny it?!" His voice low and gravelled, more of a growl than that of a yell - It would be so easy to submit to him. Your pupils stretched wide in terror, mouth slightly ajar and trembling as you stilled yourself to lie ; "I deny it." Voice hollow and cracking in the middle of your sentence, teeth clenched deep into your lips ripping the skin and your eyes; those glazed over doe-eyes that spoke a thousand words more than anything else that left your sweel lips. 

A sardonic flicker of amusement dances along his azure iris as he pulls away, grip loosening on your waist, and yet you yearned for him; body intuitively leaning towards him, mourning the warmth of his fingertips that left shadow-like touches. Your small fingers reaching up to your soft tresses, curling them gently to soothe the anxious tension building in the muscles of your neck. Craning your head up to meet his lovely face, you noticed it now; his blinking slowed, cheeks dusted a light rose, heaving breaths and that ever self-satisfied smirk. Aemond hooked his long, lithe finger into the top of your corset, his calloused knuckles grazing along the warm softness of your cleavage to pull you closer to him. His long neck bends down to meet your lifted head; plump, pink lips so painfully close to your own, "Do you know how much I have endured? How long I have waited to have a taste of your lips?" He did not move, still, silent, resolute. You. You had to decide whether to remain faithful to the rotting corpse of what was your Lord Husband or indulge in depravity with his murderer. 

The breath in your throat felt suffocating as your lungs thrashed against the gilded cage you had always known; his breath was warm, inviting and stuck to your velvety lower lip, you stood on the tips of your toes before hesitantly placing a sweet delicate kiss upon him. Both your eyes clasped shut as Aemond held you closer, one hand held snug around your waist as the greedy fingers of his other hand continued to make their way down into your bosom. The kiss deepened deliciously as Aemond's lips parted needily, moulding with your own, slipping in a hot tongue that feverishly explored your mouth; wanton moans and breathless pants drew from both of your lips as you locked each other into a tight embrace. Aemond pulled away but this time your head followed his, lamenting the loss of your union; his lust blown eye fully darkened now, cheeks flushed to a beautiful shade of rouge and strands of saliva painted a pretty portrait of the Prince. His hand met yours frantically, "Come." He whispered, pulling you down some narrow side steps to the South of the balcony.

A cacophony of endless questions and thoughts rang through your mind like the chiming of a thousand bells as Aemond guided you through the dark, perilous tunnels deep in the underbelly of the Red Keep; his hand gripped yours tightly, determined to not let you go. Expansive tunnel systems sprawled like roots beneath the soil, the cold air reeking of dampened earth, decaying timber and stagnant dust; jagged stones jutted from the walls, obsidian shining against the warm light of the torches - It was silent, deathly so. "They will note our absence at the feast" You mustered as the dry soot filled your lungs, but as silent as the cavern, Aemond did not answer; "Perhaps we should return?" He pivoted on his heel to take a sharp right, singular eye trained on the route ahead; "They will be too far in their cups to take notice, sweetling." Sweetling? Sweetling. The name sounded so sweet on his lips that you prayed he would never refer to you by any other name; "Where are you taking me?" Aemond stopped without warning, hand pulling yours closer to his as he settled his other upon a sturdy, dark wooden door framed by a silver stone arch; "To your salvation." 

The heavy door thudded closed with a click. Aemond's chamber was almost as exquisite as him; high domed ceilings of fine cut stone and stained ebony oaken floors were adorned with plush rugs, embroidered murals and intricately carved chairs shadowed under the warm candlelight. Books upon books with wrinkled parchment and broken spines lined a heavy stone desk carved with symbols of dancing dragons sat adjacent to his large bed. All at once you felt your back slam against the smooth masonry as Aemond pinned you against the wall. His grip tight and crystalline gaze filled with want, as his lips meet yours in a frantic embrace; tongues and teeth clashing as Aemond's hands begin trailing along your form, fingers sprawling widely like that of the cavernous tunnels you had just exited. Your body careened towards his as desire flooded your senses, that fire trickling from your chest to your core; soft delicate hands anchoring themselves at his broad athletic shoulders. Pulling away for breath he presses his forehead against yours, noses meeting as saliva shackles you both together; "I have desired you for so long-" "My Prince I-" "Aemond. Call me Aemond." His singular azure eye intently affixed to yours awaiting your reply in earnest. The pregnant pause almost deafening as blood rushes from your cheeks to flush across your neck and chest; "Aemond." His name felt so sweet on your tongue - It truly was so easy to submit to him. 

He drew a deep shuddering breath; nostrils flaring, jaw softening as his muscles relaxed, eyes fluttering shut before ripping open, that ocean blue now eclipsed to jet-black. Hands wander to the top of your corset, slotting his fingers betwixt your bosom, he tears the fabric with one loud splitting crack before diving into the meat of your breasts with his tongue. His sculpted features pressed tantalisingly against your silken flesh, pouty lips leaving hot open-mouthed kisses while his wet, velvety tongue claimed every inch of your perfect tits. Hands danced along your figure, fingertips burning under his fire-like touch, until settling on your arse; breath hitched in your throat at his ministrations, head flown back intuitively as wanton whimpers fell past your lips. Hands flew to the back of his head, fingers entwining with his silky silver tresses as your nails scratched his scalp; a low guttural growl rippled through Aemond's throat, lips and tongue ambling along your chest with fervour before settling at your delicate neck. "A-Aemond-" His name like a knot in your throat that began to unravel with every kiss, touch and moan; "Hmm?" "Please-" You felt his hardened cock pressed firm against the confines of your skirts, his leather breeches keeping it at bay as you bucked your hips towards him. "Please, what sweetling?" Your bucking became more restless; plush lower lip caught between your teeth and brow furrowed with a sour expression on your face as if you were a besmirched toddler; strangled whines left you once again as you tried to meet his avoidant eye. 

As if he were a cat pouncing on a mouse, Aemond removed his tight grip from your behind, one hand nestling abruptly on your waist and the other on your throat; long, lithe fingers spread like roots applying firm pressure as you were slammed back against the wall. "My, my... How greedy has my girl become... Perhaps you were no better than some common whore touting for coin after all." "Please- Please kiss me, Aemond" Your desperate wide eyes met his firm yet ice cold one, his lips pressed into a firm line as he spoke in a flat, measured tone; "You think you deserve it?" Tears prick at your ducts as you maintain his stare, sclera flashing white and head nodding wildly at his response. His grip on your throat tightens, head craned so his breath ghosts over your ears; "Beg for it."  

His vice-like grip trapped the words in your throat, air unable to pass through the knot that embedded itself there, it was almost as if you were the one whose throat he had slit, not that of your late husband's; "I beg of you, please, kiss me Aemond" You caught the breath in your throat with a sharp intake through your nose, holding the tension for a mere moment before fanning the breath through your mouth; "Please Aemond- Please! I beg of you, kiss me!" His aquiline features remained unreadable, stoic and cold as the rock that braced against your back, it was not enough. "Aemond, please grant me your salvation. Please, have mercy upon me, please Aemond. Please, for I will surely die if I do not feel your lips clung to mine." His lips quirked at the corners, pulling his mouth into a wolfish grin, his eye narrowed and chin raised to a self-satisfied gloat; "Now, you shall have your reward." He removes his hand from the softness at your waist, hand balled into a fist as it shadows over your soft pouted lips; calloused thumb tracing your lower lip before pulling it down to part them. "Open your mouth, let me see." You do as he instructs, angling your head slightly so his mouth hovers near yours, warm breath fanning over your flushed cheeks; "Stick out your tongue." He moves his thumb over your pink tongue, flattening it out as you do so, pressing it further into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat; your eyes sting with tears, sclera red as you gag on the tip. An amused huff leaves his lips; "Perhaps not so common after all." Aemond pulls out his thumb, fingers grasping at the roots of your hair before wrenching your head backwards; he pooled the spit in his mouth and with a wet click spat directly onto your velvet tongue. Soft moans trembled in your throat as you delighted in the sensation of your saliva coalescing together; "Swallow." Your throat bobs at his instruction, the spit finding home in your belly; "Show me" Your mouth opens as a breathless sigh slips past your lips before his hand, once entangled in your hair, returns to your mouth and pushing your cheeks open to ensure you had swallowed it all; "That's my girl." 

Hot slippery tongues danced in harmony as Aemond forcefully pressed his lips against your own; spare hand trailing down past your skirts and hiking them up over the hem until his fingers ghost over your cunt. You jolt as his large dexterous hand pries your legs apart, only standing upright by the force of his other hand splayed across your throat, your hesitant whimpers fall on deaf ears as he presses his calloused fingertips to your velvety folds; "My what do have here? Is my sweetling soaked just from tasting my lips?" You nod pathetically fast; fingers dig into the flesh of your neck sure to mark you with beautiful bruises, "Speak. Why else did the Seven above give you a mouth?" "Yes, Aemond." The cat had caught the mouse. He swirled your essence around his nimble fingertips before gently applying an even pressure and pushing them inside; his mouth hovered over yours, hot breath fanning as he whispered in a gravely tone; "Yield to me." Needy hands grasped firmly onto Aemond's sturdy forearms leaving crescent marks in their wake; your head flew backwards to hit the masonry as he slowly inserted his fingers deeper inside you. "Seven Hells, did your husband ever bed you?" He strains, feeling your warm, wet tightness suffocate his fingers; "He did." You strangle out between hurried breaths and desperate whines; Aemond let out a quiet huff of amusement, nostrils expelling air as his eye remains affixed to yours, "Awaiting my hand to help break you in, hmm?" "Yes. Gods, yes." A stillness radiated across his sharp features at your complete submission - He would no longer keep you wanting.  

Reveling in your heat Aemond languidly drags his fingers back and forth, lips placed firmly against yours as he peppers sweet chaste kisses against your open mouth gaping in pleasure; "Did your dead husband ever touch you like this?" You cannot help the wanton whimpers ripping from your throat as he scissors those fingers deep inside you; "No?" "N-no, Aemond" "Did he ever place his fingers here?" Your nails dig tighter into the leather of his jerkin now, sure to leave permanent indents as you grasp onto him in sheer pleasure; low groans ripple from your throat as he dives deep inside you and curves his long, dexterous fingers upwards to reach a special spot you never knew you had. Your kisses more eager know, desperate and wanting as tongues and teeth clash against each other, legs now quivering with every crook of his hand. "Did he ever make you peak?" Aemond groans against your lips before diving back in to move his wet mouth against your own; too focused on your own pleasure you buck into his hands, mouth greedy for his and eyes clasped tight. Your throat burns as the air is torn from your lungs, his firm grip on your neck as a reminder - Something akin to a 'No' passes your delicate lips. Granting mercy upon you, after all Aemond did not want to be too cruel, he angles his hand so that his thumb now rests upon your bundle of nerves and rubs gentle monotonous circles there. Pleasure and pain mix deliciously; pupils dilated with lust and sclera a bright white remain trained onto Aemond; open mouthed pants and kisses placed with abandon as his careful hand applies an even pressure right there, causing your legs to squeeze tightly around his hand like a vice as you reach your peak. The sharp ache in your lungs dulls as they balloon against the confines of your ribcage with every deep intake of breath as he relaxes his tight grip on your neck that anchors you upright. His swollen member presses harder against you now as you recite his name like a prayer between every delicate chaste kiss, deepening when he removes his hand from between your supple thighs. 

Pulling away slightly from the heated kiss, his singular azure eye fixated on your mouth, thumb tugging upon your lower lip prying it open; "Kneel." His eye flicks to yours, pupil pinning and lashes fluttering in apprehension, eyebrows knitting together mixing with silent mumbles that found themselves stuck to your tongue, casting a sour look on your face. Dominance radiated through him; it was no surprise he had claimed the largest dragon in the known world and now he had come to claim you. He moved his hand from your throat causing your knees to buckle at the loss of stability; clawing at his smooth green doublet enough to leave crescent marks in the soft leather, but his gaze never left yours - Anger did not grace his features at your action instead he was cold, measured. His hand danced along your collar bone sending sparks across your skin as it reached your delicately exposed shoulder and gently encouraged you towards the floor. Aemond watched you descend intently, the lump in your throat growing ever thicker, the rough oaken floor scraped hard against your knees, splinters making home in your delicate skin. That dark smirk returned to his pink lips but more severe; his angular cupid's bow shadowed his plump lower lip; his stare intense as his pupil suffocates the blue of his iris, gaze slicing into your skin as his knife so easily did to your husband's throat and rooting you to the spot; his angular features were sharper now, more pronounced likening him to a God and here you lay to worship at his altar. Aemond can sense it too; your bated breath suspended in your throat, your glassy wide-eyed stare that reminded him of his first kill, he could almost hear your heart hammering in your chest. 

"Do you feel the floor?" "Yes." "Does it hurt?" "A little." You lie. Eyes breaking free from the weight of his stare that pinned you into place, gnawing on the inside of your cheek and biting your tongue, you shuffle from side to side shifting your weight from one knee to the next, determined to find a more comfortable position. He hums, a melodic yet stoic hum, almost as if it did not concern him at all; "Do you feel the jagged slivers of wood rake the delicate skin from your soft supple flesh?" Your head nods on instinct betraying your fragile resolve "Y-yes Aemond." His long, lithe fingers card through your hair in an almost soothing motion, you cannot help but lean into his tender touch; fingertips applying pressure to your scalp deliciously. Aemond's grip suddenly tightens as he rends your head backwards to meet him again; "And now you know what I have endured while waiting for a taste of those lips, sweetling." He drags you closer, your scalp burns at the abruptness, a dull pain roots itself deep into your skull, until your face aligns perfectly with his breeches; "Go on, untie them." Shaking hands tentatively tug at his laces, fingers fumbling and fiddling with the knotted ends, it was as if your fingertips were on fire; his gaze fixated on yours, unbroken by even a flicker of the eyelid. Not just your fingertips but whole body felt as if it were engorged within dragon fire, a burning sensation deep in your core beckoned you to unleash him to dampen the flames that would consume you. Tearing your dry eyes away from his, you blinked several times as tears ran down your face blurring the fastenings that held his breeches together. Finally, they came into focus and nimble fingers worked tirelessly to release him; "Behold me!" a white-hot flash of agony racked through your skull as he wrenched your head back to gaze upon his lovely face, your doe-eyes glassy and black beheld his form; knuckles white with tension as he expertly unbuttons his doublet with one hand as if had done so a thousand times before. Perhaps he really was closer to the Gods than any man. 

His porcelain skin shone in the candlelight, flames flickered across his smooth skin and danced along his chiselled chest and cut form, it was as if he was carved from alabaster; a monument to the God himself and you needed to worship at its feet. Small, dainty hands, of which were usually tentative, shot up to clutch at Aemond's midsection as if he were to offer you salvation. Fingers dug into the muscular flesh and nails carved red marks deep into the skin; his much larger hand encapsulated yours at his chest and anchored it above his heart. It beat rhythmically, slamming against the confines of his ribs; his stomach rigid and hollow as his breath remained hitched in his lungs, he had waited a long time to claim you. He did not wish to wait a moment longer. He let go of the tight grip upon your hand and languidly guided it to his leather bottoms, hooking your thumb at the waist band. Your other hand followed suit as you shuffled down both his breeches and small clothes at once to reveal his hardened cock. The heat rose to your cheeks in waves, reaching as high as the tips of your ears as you caught a glimpse of Aemond's member; eyes darting to and fro until settling on the tapestries that lined his room, ones of heavily embroidered dragon scales with a fire that roared like a torrent against the mural of Harrenhal. Air blew loudly from Aemond's nostrils, snapping you out of your thoughts, slowly lifting your head to meet his smug smile, his tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek in a mocking manner. His eyebrows lifted in fascination at your response as you fully made eye contact with it now; Aemond's member was nothing like your husband's, it was long and lean like him, milky-white with blue veins running along it to meet a flushed pink tip. It was not as if you had never seen one before, but your husband did not indulge in such depravity; you had only seen it once really, small and curved with wiry blonde hairs, his stones wrinkled and sagged, the head of his pillar ruddy; heirs were your priority. 

"I am sure you need no further instruction, my sweetling." Craning your neck up at him, you blinked rapidly in confusion; smacking your lips together and throat bobbing in a silent reply at Aemond's words. "Unless..." a wide ferocious grin spread across his cheeks, wolfish in nature and you a sweet, delicious doe for devouring. He crouches down to meet your level, finally a God showing pity on his humble follower, his nose bumps against yours as you feel the air from his breath ghost against your lips at the proximity; "...did your husband never sample this mouth of yours?" You preen into his touch, arching your back to drive your lips forward in anticipation for another kiss, his fingers graze against your lips teasingly but he pulls away to stand fully erect when you whimper; "N-never." An involuntary whine of disappointment mixed with desperation rattles from your throat as he leaves you wanting; "My, my... My girl has many things to learn does she not?" You bob your head enthusiastically in agreement, stabilising yourself against his sturdy, muscular legs. "It is very simple. All you need to do is give it a kiss." Aemond's voice was unwavering, resonant; he had thought he had already claimed your mouth with his, but now it seems your useless husband had left him with a gift to indulge in - How kind. 

You bring your soft plump lips to meet the bulbous head of his weeping cock before delivering a sweet chaste kiss upon it; the sticky, salty liquid smears across your lips and leaps across your tongue as you continue to plant desperate, wet kisses on the head. Hot breaths and your velvety tongue tease the tip as you groan in the delicious taste and noises emanating from Aemond's mouth; wanton moans and shaky breaths leave him as his composure wavers. "That's it. That's my girl." His chest rose in a fractured, sharp, sudden gasps as he slowly pushed his body weight forward, hand clamped tightly on your roots to fix you in place, as he pressed his tip into your wet, inviting mouth. Your lips forming a beautiful 'O' shape as hands embedded themselves against the sinew of his athletic thighs, eyes closed to concentrate on breathing through your nose, bracing for his tender, shallow thrusts. Ecstasy. Aemond cannot believe that he had deprived himself of your mouth for so long, he rips his head back as ragged, shaky breaths rip through his resolve, all princely manners abandoning him now as his eyes clench shut and he thrusts himself deeper inside your mouth, his fingers entwined in your locks drag your head forward to meet him. You moan around his cock at the sensation, submitting to his every whim, you hollow out your cheeks and slide your tongue along his prominent vein on the underside of his member; his length begins to swell despite being only half-way into your mouth. Eyes water as your gaze plants itself onto his pleasure-ridden face; intense stare faded as his eyes clasp tightly together, his eyebrows furrowed tightening along the brow bone, mouth slightly agape in a silent moan that begged to edge its way out. You could not help but delight at the image before you, a man more akin to a God weak at your ministrations. The fire in your core growing hotter and hotter with every hurried stroke of his cock against your tongue; the vibrations of your groans sending Aemond into overdrive as he ruthlessly begins to thrust against you until your nose meets the base. You gag. Gag hard as his deliciously pink tip monotonously pounds against your throat, you try to push back on his muscular thighs that shake at the sensation of him filling your hot mouth; crescent shapes sure to mark him sting into his skin, heightening pain and pleasure. Aemond only withdraws his cock from your throat when he feels that all too familiar tingling at the bottom of his spine; he rips his singular ocean blue eye open, pupil pinned to a point finer than his blade and cranes his head downwards to you. You. Whose mouth is covered in a deadly combination of his essence and your saliva, who's rubbing their soft lips along the length of his shaft with flushed cheeks and a beaming smile, whose eyes are darker than the pits of the Seven Hells. 

Aemond steeled himself as you continue to place sweet, loving appreciative kisses from tip to base, his head light and swirling with pleasure as your cock-drunk eyes observed him; mouth tenderly suckling on his full, heady sack. His hand balled into a fist twisting into the strands of your hair to pull you upwards towards him; the pain flaring across the skin of your scalp muddling with pleasure. "On your feet." Hands braced against the darkened wood to hold your sudden weight as you happily obliged to his command before steadying yourself on haunched knees, submission addling your mind. Aemond's other hand made home on your neck once more to help ease you upright, gently squeezing the sensitive skin there as a comforting reminder. Knees bruised and bloodied from the sharp splinters that had embedded themselves into your delicate skin from the old, worn, wooden flooring. He had truly not endured as much as you, evidence plain to see on his unsullied knees, but he did not have the touch of a man more akin to a God at his fingertips.  

Greedy fingers delved into the softness of your waist, his grip firm but gentle; Aemond's lips playfully brushed soft teasing kisses along the flesh of your neck to trace the markings he had left with his nails. His hot breath fanned across the skin sending a sudden spike of oozing warmth down your spine; "I have waited so long for this moment." Before you could even muster a blink, his grip tightened, as he twisted your body to face the cool, polished stone that decorated the wall; not bothering to unlace your ties, he rips your corset sending edges fraying and the garment to the floor. Jaw slacking with words held in suspension; the coolness envelops your skin contrasting against your core reigniting with fire. Aemond's desperate fingers dug into the skin at your waist and throat once again before pushing his body flush to yours and roughly entering your tight cunt with one harsh, deep thrust. A loud strangled moan tore from deep within you, rending your head back on instinct as he continued to thrust into you with vigour; "Every tourney," Thrust. "Every feast," Thrust. "Every ladies luncheon, when you would smile so sweetly at those lemon-cakes," Thrust. "Every time you fluttered your eyelashes in my direction when you thought I wasn't looking," Thrust. "I have wanted you. To claim you." Thrust. "I have lingered in dark corners to simply watch your every movement." 

You cannot help but arch your back in pleasure at his words, the sensation of him endlessly filling you consumes you as you feel that fire in your cunt grow; your plush arse now flushed against his hard pelvic bone to provide that delicious angle, cock hitting deeper and deeper as you moan with abandon spurring on his fervoured ruts. "I thought of this-" Your hands spread over his forearms for support, dizzying pleasure consumes you whole now, his cock dragging up and down, up and down over that delicious, sweet spot. "W-when I sliced through your fool of a husband's throat-" Thrust. "I thought of this." Thrust. "Of claiming you. Of finally making you mine." Craning your head to the side you notice the deep furrow of his brow, pupil blown wide eclipsing the blues of his eye and mouth agape in a silent scream of pleasure; he was close. "Ae- Aemond, pl-please-" Your plush lips desperately seek his, praying he will grant you at least this one kiss, his mouth moves towards yours in tandem, wet hot kisses of tongue and teeth dance together as be breathes out, forehead flush to yours; "All I have taken from you," Thrust. "All the humiliation I have endured," Thrust. "All was for this. To feel your tight walls convulse against my cock." 

Your walls flutter around him at those words, back arching more severely and body shaking as you near your peak; loud moans ripple from you like the waves of Blackwater Bay as you grip onto him tightly, nails surely drawing blood. "Oh no- I am not finished with you yet sweetling." Aemond withdraws himself from you, hands guiding you towards his plush bed adorned with green velvet pillows and blankets; whining at the loss of his fullness, you stumble to where he leads you, mind hazy with lust as if you had consumed milk of the poppy. Aemond's hair was dishevelled like it had been all those hours ago in the Grand Sept, eye dark and blown with lust as red dusted across his cheeks, down his elegant neck and sprawled across his broad chest. You feel the dip in the bed as he kneels upon it, cock glistening with both of your essences, the tip a darker pink now and balls tight and twitching; "You will behold me now my love, behold me for who I truly am."  

Aemond reaches behind and pulls the tie from his silken opalite hair and fingers hover over his eyepatch, trembling; the knot in his stomach pulls tighter as he swallows deeply before pulling it off abruptly to show you his scar. An ugly red line cut through the exquisite aquiline features of his lovely face, marring the unsullied skin; a shimmering sapphire sat deep in the socket, glistening with the candlelight. On haunched elbows you mustered what little strength you had left to draw yourself closer, to admire him. Tentatively, you reach your hand out towards him, fingertips shadowing over the scar; "You have endured so much." But he stops you, his large, toned hands encapsulating yours in a gentle embrace before placing it on the bed and climbing on top of you; other hand guiding your legs so your knee fits in the crook of his waist. You entwine your legs to sit above the small of his back, fleshy thighs pinned downwards flush against his own that splay either side. Aemond leans downwards, caging you in; bracing his forearms to surround your head. His straight silver tresses fall like a curtain of water around you; singular azure eye and brilliant blue gemstone bore into your own as he enters you once more. 

Slow and measured, he drags his member along your silky walls as if committing them to memory; you reach out and lace your shaking hands around his neck. It were as if you were made for each other; each breath and moan in tandem, every thrust timed perfectly to the grind of your hips, the way your walls formed perfectly to the shape of his member - Perhaps it was not a shame he had killed your husband after all. Careening your neck forward and placing a light pressure on the nape of his neck, you reach to anchor your lips together once more but he does not follow, instead choosing to dodge your lips and thrust harsher into you. The pout on your lips evident, mouth downturned and cheeks puffed in impertinence, that smirk returned to his lips, ghosting them so tantalisingly close against yours; "Is there something my sweetling wants?" The twinkle in his eye danced, brows raised and cadence teasing - Had you not endured enough also? 

"Please kiss me Aemond-" The words were dragged out, slow and bliss-filled, more a groan than a sentence. He began to pick up the pace, athletic thighs pounding deeper with every thrust, bulbous tip barely hitting your sweet spot before pulling out again; "And why would I do such a thing?" "Because-" That string in your throat resurfaced knotting tighter and tighter as you struggled to get your words out, instead opting to turn your blush-filled face to the side to avoid his intent gaze. His sturdy hand gripped your jaw, fingertips burning holes into your skin, it was as if your whole body was on fire; he twisted your head towards him, forehead clashing against yours and warm breath fanning against your lips - he was so close. "Because?" "Because I want to kiss you..." Your words trailed off as he slowed his pace; deep languid thrusts grinding against every inch of your velvety walls, still you averted his gaze, fixated on the sheen of his iridescent hair. "You did not seem so convinced in the Sept." "Duty blinded me." "And now?" You captured his gaze. Softened steeled eyes met, fierce and resolute, you inhaled deeply, pushing the boundaries of your lungs against their cage, breath steady and voice unwavering; "I want you to claim me as the Gods intended." 

Aemond's gaze darkened to a wolfish stare, black pupil drinking in your doe-eyes set with ferocity, he wet his plump lower lip with the swipe of his eager tongue and leaned down to oblige with your request. Fervoured mouths collided with bruising pressure and tongues swiped along in tandem as Aemond picked up the pace of his thrusts to finally reach that spot that nestled deep inside you. He trailed the hand that had been clutching at your jaw down your perfect body to meet your bundle of nerves once again, pulling away between heated breaths, he moaned in your mouth; "Did your dead, fool of a husband ever touch you here?" Your neck arched at the sudden sensation as he circled your clitoris, whimpers only audible between kisses; "N-no" "No?" He clicked his teeth in false pity before donning a twitching smirk with upturned crinkled eyes; "Did he ever make you peak?" "Aemond- Please- No- Never." Your voice now more strangled as the tension slowly built in your pelvis, a burning fire radiating from your core. Aemond's lips do not leave yours now, the warmth from them spreading further, muting wanton moans and cries of ecstasy. Your fingers dug into his neck with every thrust, fingertips applying a fervid pressure adding to his pleasure. Then with one final deep thrust, you reach your peak - Fingernails tearing into the delicate skin of his neck, strangled whines from deep within you sneak past your lips, body quivering as the fire builds to a white hot intensity before dampening and fanning out in the warm afterglow. Your heart pounds violently against your chest, throat red raw and a deep ache penetrates your lungs with every breath; Aemond braces himself against the bed now, hand no longer between your thighs, fingers carving deep holes into his mattress as the tension coils in his pelvis. Applying pressure on his back, you bring down your legs to encourage him deeper; a heavy ache rooted itself deep within the base of his member, pleasure trapping him in a ruthless, unyielding rhythm towards his peak. His vision flashed a pure white as he crashed his lips onto yours, his hot seed pulsing deep inside your womb with every last thrust he could muster. 

He slumps into you, bodies intertwining as if you were made to be together; always the cat and mouse, predator and prey, hunter and hunted, God and devout. Heavy, shallow breaths strain your lungs as heavy wheezes rip through your throats between each sweet, chaste kiss. You cannot get enough of him now, the want growing more. Heartbeats aligning to a perfect synchronised rhythm as Aemond slots himself beside you, turning your waist with him so he may not leave the warmth of your cunt; you pepper his marred face with quick gentle pecks as he pushes a strand of your soft hair over your ear to behold you better. "None shall have you now, you are mine." A bright, soft chuckle leaves your lips as you place another faint yet adoring kiss on his nose. He pulls you closer to him, noses now bumping and cheeks pressed comfortably together as his arms snake around your plush body. You follow suit; brushing his opalite hair to the side so your skin may meld together in harmony, your eyelids begin to flutter shut as the rise and fall of your chests push and pull against each other. Aemond draws you ever closer now, nose buried deep in your locks to admire the lavender scent there; "I have claimed you." His voice low and melancholic yet with an unspoken tenderness, his words stretching outwards as if begging for you to reply; "I am yours now Aemond and none other shall claim me." He draws you closer, humming warmly at your response as you both succumb to the heaviness of your fluttering eyelids and drift off into a peaceful slumber.