#aureliawrites

Heavy grunts and the clashing sound of steel on steel resonated through the training yard of the Red Keep. Surrounded by a crowd of onlookers, Prince Aemond, his forehead beaded with sweat, moved deftly to dodge a blow struck by Ser Criston Cole’s morningstar. 

It was nearly noon, and the Prince and Kingsguard had been training since the break of dawn. Ser Criston had a look of exhaustion on his face, the midday sun clearly taking a toll on him, but Prince Aemond continued sparring with a fierce determination, parrying Criston’s offensives with utmost precision or viciously swinging his sword to land a blow on the knight. 

Whilst the prince was fond of training for long hours, Ser Criston was familiar enough with Prince Aemond’s various moods to know that today, while he was there in person, he was not in spirit. Seeing a chance, Criston quickly moved to swing a blow at Prince Aemond, and succeeded in catching him off guard, knocking the sword from the Prince’s hand for the first time this morning. 

Criston expected the prince to get angry that he had been bested, but Aemond merely raised a brow and rolled his eye, “I yield. Let us cease training for this morning.” Applause broke out through the training yard, and Criston had to hide a grin. It had been a while since he managed to beat Aemond in training. 

As the crowd dispersed, Criston noticed Aemond polishing his sword at a corner, a brooding look on his face. Feeling particularly emboldened this morning at his victory, Criston walked towards the prince, setting down his morningstar as he questioned, “What troubles you, my prince?” 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are insinuating, Cole,” came Aemond’s curt response, but Criston was undeterred. “You may pretend all is well, but you have been on edge for a few days now, aye?” Criston commented, observing how the prince’s jaw was clenched. Oddly enough, he noticed doubt shining in the prince’s lone violet eye., catching Criston off guard “You may have been sparring with me this morning, but your heart is elsewhere. Tell me what troubles you, my prince.” 

Criston expected the prince to scowl and tell him it was none of his business, but instead, Aemond let out a pensive sigh, before tentatively asking, “Ser Criston, how do you reckon one should please their betrothed?” 

Criston’s ears immediately stood up in attention. Gods be good, the One-Eyed Prince was asking him for advice? And about his betrothed no less. As a Kingsguard, Criston had to suppress a laugh at the irony. “Are you referring to the Lady Y/N Y/L/N, my prince?” 

“Well, it could hardly be anyone else, could it?” Aemond retorted, though his heart was not in it. Criston watched, amused, as Aemond hummed contemplatively, “As you know, she and I were betrothed less than a moon’s turn ago. I had not crossed paths with her often before that, but…” Aemond swallowed, thinking of how brilliantly she smiled at him every time he had the fortune of being graced with her presence. He had always knew that his marriage would be one of duty and political benefit to his house, but over the course of getting to know the lady over the past few weeks, he found her company pleasant, and her gentle charm and surprisingly humorous wit a welcome change in the usual dreadfully boring courtiers at the Red Keep. And with every passing moment he spent in her presence, he felt a small sliver of affection for her begin to blossom in his heart. “As I got to know her more, I soon began to wish to be the sole cause of her brilliant smiles, her beautiful laughter, and selfishly, the sole receiver of her love and affection.”

Aemond had to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. He was sounding like a lovesick fool, in front of Cole, of all people. Gods, he was an idiot, an utter idiot. Swords he could swing and books he could read, but when it came to affection, he found himself no better than an ignorant babe. “It sounds as though you harbour a great affection for the lady Y/L/N,” Criston smiled. “Yes,” Aemond said softly, his voice tinged a little with despair. “But I am unsure on how to best express my affections. She is akin to an ethereal maiden, and I’m naught but a crippled prince, who is stumped in my duties as a husband. I cannot seem to muster up the courage to proclaim my love for her, or shower her with praises and compliments.” 

‘Gods, what if she is unhappy with my performance of my duties as her husband because I am too much of a coward to even talk to her about my feelings?’ Aemond thought in alarm, mind racing. He did not want to be the reason why those lovely smiles of hers cease to exist. He wanted to make her feel like the most blissful woman in the realm. But he was completely clueless as to how. Words seemed completely inadequate to express the depth of his affection for her, and he had never been the best with his words anyway. 

Just then, Aemond felt a hand on his shoulder, grounding him to reality once more “Breathe, my prince,” Criston’s steady voice calmed Aemond down, making his racing thoughts come to a screeching halt. “I do believe you are overthinking things, my prince. Contrary to popular belief, I think that affection need not be expressed in elaborate gestures or through fervent declarations of love all the time.” 

Aemond’s eyebrows shot up, “Then how will she know how much I appreciate her? I can barely converse with her without looking like a stuttering fool.” Criston smiled, a sort of fatherly affection filling his eyes as he glanced down at the prince. “Though I am lacking in experience in matters of the heart, I believe that affection isn’t always just about grand gestures. Words are not the only outlet to express your admiration of her, my prince. You can start with the little actions: spending time with her, bringing her flowers, talking more with her about her interests, that sort of thing.” “And you think that that would be sufficient?”Aemond was a little sceptical. 

“Of course, that would not suffice in the long run. You are to be married, my prince, you will spend countless years with each other, you will have to do more than that.” Aemond’s face turned crestfallen, causing Criston to pat his shoulder, “However, given your trouble in expressing your feelings, these small gestures are a start. Build up from there, and you’ll find it easier to demonstrate your love for her over time.” Aemond’s gaze was still pensive, but his eye was sparkling a little with hope. “But what if I’m at a loss of words every time I’m with her? Won’t she find my company dreadfully dull then?” Criston couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from him, though Aemond looked faintly offended at that. “Sometimes, your company is good enough, your Grace. Not all your time spent together need be filled with meaningful conversations. Basking in each other’s presence is bliss enough.” 

Satisfied with Criston’s response, Aemond stood up with a decisive look. “I am grateful for your advice, Cole. I shall depart to implement your advice at once.” Before leaving, however, Aemond tilted his head and smirked slightly, “You are rather good at giving romantic advice for a knight, Ser Criston. Your wisdom is wasted on being a Kingsguard.” 

Criston barked a laugh, thinking of that someone from so long ago. “Mayhaps, your grace. But I think I am rather content imparting my knowledge to you for now.” Aemond said nothing at that, only raising a hand in farewell as he strode off. Criston watched him depart, a slight grin on his face. ‘The Queen would be delighted to hear of this,’ he thought to himself with a degree of satisfaction. 

You were sitting in Princess Helaena’s apartments, forehead furrowed in concentration as you delicately weaved a needle through the handkerchief you were embroidering for your betrothed. The midday sun shone through the long windows, casting a light golden glow throughout Helaena’s chambers. 

“Here, what do you think of this?” Helaena leaned over to you, eyes shining with anticipation as you held up your work so far. “It’s beautiful,” Helaena complimented, “Is that a raven?” You nodded, tilting your head to inspect your work. “Do you think it is too unusual to embroider on a handkerchief?” Helaena laughed, “You should not be asking me. Given the fact that-” she held up her own embroidery, and you laughed when you caught sight of a large beetle on her handkerchief. 

“I have to ask, however, why a raven?” Helaena inquired. You bit your lip softly, remembering your last interaction with your betrothed, Aemond. Knowing your love for birds, Aemond had taken you to Grand Maester Orwyle’s rookery, to see the various birds he had fostered there. You had both taken a liking to the ravens, with their intelligent eyes and strangely silent demeanour, compared to the other noisier birds in the rookery. You thought to yourself that they reminded you much of Aemond, though you did not say it out loud, watching with fond eyes as Aemond fed a raven and stroked its feathers, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed. 

“Your brother seems to like them,” you answered, smiling. Helaena beamed, “I’m sure he would be pleased with your gift.” “I do hope so,” your voice trailed off hesitantly, causing Helaena to take your free hand and squeeze it lightly. You had been much enamoured with your betrothed ever since your arrival to King’s Landing several moon turns ago, and you have come to know and appreciate him for his silent, thoughtful aura. However, his comportment did spell some uncertainty in you. While you knew this was a political match, your heart couldn’t help but yearn that your future husband would love you as much as you did him. 

But it was nigh impossible to tell what the One-Eyed Prince was thinking whenever we spent time together. He seemed perfectly cordial to you…but you wished you could get a further glimpse into what he felt for you. Did he feel at least a fraction of the adoration you felt for him? Or were you doomed to spend a lifetime in a courteous, yet dispassionate and loveless marriage with a man you long admired? 

Your thoughts were cut off by a sudden knock on the door. Startled, you nearly dropped your embroidery, but Helaena caught it deftly just in time. Sheepishly murmuring your thanks, you watched as a serving girl came into the room and curtsied in front of the both of you. “Your Grace, my lady, Prince Aemond is requesting to see you.” 

Aemond? Your heart began pounding furiously, delight and anticipation filling you. Was he here to see you? You tried tamping down your excitement, thinking firmly to yourself that he could be equally as likely to be here for Helaena. “Did he say which of the two of us he wanted to see?” “He wished to see Lady Y/N, your Grace.”

Your heart was beating so fast it felt dangerously close to exploding. Your mind was spinning in a dizzying rush of emotions. Helaena dismissed the serving girl, and smiled at you, “Well, I should not keep my brother waiting any longer for his betrothed. Go.” 

“Thank you, your Grace. Will I see you at dinner with the Queen tonight?” “Of course. You must tell me everything that happens,” Helaena’s eyes twinkled merrily. “That is a given,” you stood up and curtsied, before exiting the room, clutching the handkerchief you just sewed like it was the last thing grounding you to reality. Your steps were light and airy, and your heart nearly stopped when you saw Aemond standing by a window, his back to you, looking as majestic as ever in his training gear and his long silver hair flowing down his back. Your betrothed. 

“My Prince,” a sweet voice broke through Aemond’s thoughts. He turned around, his eye widening as he beheld his fair lady. She was dressed beautifully as always, in a light pink gown with a square neckline and elbow length sleeves. Pearl earrings dangled from her earlobes, serving only to accentuate her lovely complexion. He strode to her as she curtsied, his hand reaching out to her shoulder. 

“At ease,” Aemond’s voice was like velvet. “You are my betrothed, there is no need for such formalities.” You nodded shyly, meeting Aemond’s eye, surprised that today, there was actually a flicker of emotion behind it. Noticing how he shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot, your eyes widened slightly as you realised that Aemond Targaryen, the usually composed and unflinching prince, was nervous. And it was because of you. 

Aemond cleared his throat, finally revealing what he had been hiding behind his back. Just when you thought the day’s events could not get any stranger than seeing Aemond being anxious, you were caught even more off guard when you spotted an assortment of pink, blue and orange blooms in his hand. 

“These are for you, my lady,” he added, eye darting over her face to drink in all her beautiful features and most importantly, her reaction to his attempt at expressing his adoration for her. He was immensely relieved to find nothing but genuine delight on his betrothed’s face. 

“Oh, they’re wonderful,” you exclaimed happily, a flush going to your cheeks. “You are too kind, my prince. Thank you, I love them.” Aemond watched tenderly as she took the flowers and held them to her nose. She was simply angelic. 

You inhaled the sweet scent of the flowers, feeling your heart flutter at his sudden, but welcome gesture of affection. Perhaps this was a sign he returned your feelings? 

Aemond took a deep breath, trying to recall all the advice Criston had told him in the training yard just now. He had stopped by the garden to pick out the prettiest wildflowers he could find, but he found that none could compare to the sheer radiance of his betrothed when she smiled. ‘Focus’, Aemond told himself sternly, trying to collect his thoughts. ‘This was about making her see how much I care for her, not waxing on and on internally about how utterly struck I am by her beauty. I cannot mess this up.’ 

‘I must make her see how she has come to become the sun in my life.’ 

But Aemond was cut off by your sudden ‘Oh!’ Aemond nearly jumped out of his skin, afraid that there was something wrong with the flowers. But he was puzzled when you extended a handkerchief to him, smiling brightly. “I embroidered this for you. Take this as a token of gratitude for the flowers.” Aemond turned over the handkerchief delicately, tracing over the raven and various flowers sewed at the corner of the handkerchief, along with his initials, ‘A.T’ He felt his breath catch in his throat, “This…this is…” 

You watched him nervously as he stammered before falling into silence. Did he not like it? Perhaps he thought the raven was too much? You gripped the flowers in your hand a little tighter, saying a prayer to the Seven in your mind. 

Your worries were immediately allayed when Aemond pressed a shaky kiss onto your forehead. Startled, yet utterly enchanted, you stared up at him, who looked almost as shocked as you were at the kiss. “I…I take it you like your gift then?” you asked softly. 

He let out a quiet chuckle, “I think ‘like’ is an understatement, my lady. It is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given to me. I shall cherish it forever. As I will with you.” 

Aemond nearly screamed when he realised he blurted out the last part. ‘Why did I say that, why did I say that, why did I say that!’ his mind flooded with panic. However, suddenly emboldened from the adrenaline of the moment, he finally found the courage to express what he had been feeling for his fair lady. “My lady, I would like to confess something, and I think there couldn’t be a more appropriate time than this. I am hopelessly besotted with you.” He watched her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and he hurried to add, “Tis alright if you do not return those feelings! I understand, believe me. I do not wish to force you to do anything you are uncomfortable with. But it’s just that I loved you for so long, and I had no idea how to tell you, and I fear if I let this moment slip I will never muster up the bravery to tell you again and gods I-” the energy suddenly drained out of him as he found himself once again, at a loss of words. “I just…adore you beyond belief. Beyond what I can fathom. Please ignore my ramblings if you are uncomfortable with them, just take them as the words of a lovesick fool.” He averted her eyes, embarrassment and sadness filling him. How could he hope for someone as good and wonderful as her to love such a beast as him? The Gods should strike him down for his pride. 

A warm hand reached for Aemond’s, interlacing her fingers with his. Aemond looked up in disbelief at your next words, “You have no idea how thankful I am to hear those words…because I feel the same.” You smiled shyly at him, “I was hoping you had the same sentiments as I did, and now that you professed your feelings, I could not be happier.” 

Aemond reached out to grip her hand with both of his, cradling her soft hand in his hands, staring deep into her eyes, sparkling with so much devotion and adoration. They stood in silence for a while, before Aemond pulled her hand gently to his lips and planted a reverent kiss to her knuckles. 

“Would you…perhaps care to take a stroll with me, my lady? I believe we have a lot to discuss.” 

“I would love nothing more, your Grace.” 

For as long as you could remember, you had always hated Aemond Targaryen’s guts. 

Maybe it was a hatred programmed in you since birth, but it made little sense, since your mother and Aemond’s mother, Alicent Targaryen, had been inseparable companions since high school. It was your mother who supported Alicent throughout her marriage, acting as a close, trusted confidant during her clashes with their old friend and Alicent’s new stepdaughter, Rhaenyra, and throughout her miserable marriage. They had even gotten pregnant at around the same time, your mother with you, and Alicent with Aemond, and they were sure that their children would share the same strong bond as they had. 

So, it had been quite unfortunate, and ironic, when you and Aemond ended up being each other’s number 1 enemies. 

You disliked plenty of things about him: how he always thought he was the best in the room, and actually had something to show for it - always coming in at the top of the classes you shared. History, geography, mathematics, english…bloody hell. It hurt worse when he always flaunted the results in your face. 

Got a 98 for English? Aemond would get a 99, shoot you a taunting sympathetic grin and said: “Better luck next time.” He knew you were always actively seeking a chance to beat him, and he found a certain sort of thrill in it, in taunting you. 

That little fuckhead. 

It was a nigging thorn in your side, since you always strove to be the best that you could at everything. And you were always so, so, close. 

Yet not close enough. As you were made to watch Aemond on stage every year at your school’s academic awards ceremony, a smirk on his face, looking like an overly self-righteous pufferfish as he lifted his first place trophy in the air. Like he had just won some fucking world championship. Meanwhile, you had to stand backstage, gritting your teeth and fisting the fabric of your uniform in your hands as you waited to be called on stage to receive your award as second place in your whole cohort. Not close enough as you were forced to be designated as salutatorian at the end of your senior year in high school, while Aemond shot you the most self-satisfied grin ever as he deliberately brushed past you to give his valedictorian speech. 

You swore, if your diploma was not at stake that day, you would’ve pummelled him right in his smug, grinning face. 

That year before you were due to start at King’s Landing University, however, Aemond had suffered a horrible accident in a brawl at a bar during Christmas along with his younger nephews, Jacaerys Velaryon and Lucerys Velaryon. He had come out of it with one eye permanently scarred from the glass shard of a broken beer bottle, and a colder, more sullen attitude. Despite the offer of a prosthetic eye by his step sister, Rhaenyra, Aemond had refused, instead putting on an eyepatch to hide his scarred right eye. 

When your mother had recounted to you the incident with much solemnity, you had felt a strange sense of turmoil in you. You didn’t want to feel sorry for Aemond Targaryen, of all people, but it was a tragic incident that no one deserves to have befallen on them. So you could only shift uncomfortably in your seat, as your mother made meaningful eyes at you, trying to elicit some sympathy and concern from you. 

Because of that incident, Aemond’s admission to university had to be put on hold, as the professors at the university were unsure if Aemond’s plans to double major in law and history would be impeded by the loss of his eye, and he had to take additional exams to prove that his studies would not be affected in any way. 

So you were surprised when on the first day of classes, during your first class of the day - Constitutional Law - you caught sight of a familiar figure seated at the front of the class. Dressed in an expensive black cashmere sweater and tailored trousers, his long white hair neatly bunched up at the top of his head in a bun, eyepatch slung over his right eye, Aemond Targaryen sat there with an impassive look on his face, browsing through his lecture notes. Like some dark shadow the Seven sought to inflict upon you. You wanted to groan in frustration when the only seats left at the front were both next to him - clearly no one had summed up enough courage to sit next to the imposing Targaryen. Gripping the strap of your backpack a little tighter, you stalked up to the front, taking a seat at the right of him. 

He barely looked up as you slid into your seat - a surprising change. Usually back when you were in high school, he would always greet you with that infuriating smirk on his face, one that screamed superiority at every turn. Gods, how much you had hated that. Yet, you felt a strange sense of emptiness at not being greeted. 

Ignoring that, you pulled out your own textbooks and self-made notes, tying your hair up into a neat ponytail as you began reviewing your notes. From the front, you could hear very clearly what the rest of the class were gossiping about, and the whisperings about Aemond were unpleasant. You paused as you listened to them, gripping your highlighter a little tighter as you shot side glances at Aemond - still studying, not letting anything give. Was he truly not bothered by them? When he was younger, he always had something to prove whenever someone gossiped about him, having been bullied in the past. Why was he so silent? Who was this phantom? 

“Are you going to keep staring?” Aemond’s cool voice broke through your thoughts, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you realise you’ve been caught. You sniffed haughtily, turning away. “Who said I was staring?” Aemond scoffed, not turning to look at you still, for whatever reason. “You were. Don’t try to deny it.” He paused for a while, eye fixed on a passage. 

“I don’t want your pity, you know.” You bristled, startled. “As if I ever would.” You waited for Aemond to retort with a snarky remark, but you were surprised when he kept silent, and responded coldly. “Good. keep it that way.” 

You shot him a discerning look, but before you could say anything else, the professor arrived, and all thoughts of Aemond Targaryen’s new unapproachability had vanished into thin air. 

You soon came to learn that while Aemond had ceased the taunting of your youthhood, it was like losing an eye had made him even more driven somehow. You found you and him falling into old patterns, restarting your fierce rivalry. Only this time, you managed to succeed in getting the best of him in certain modules, such as for Civil Law modules, much to your delight. It only served to make Aemond more steely, however, and the both of you often found yourself partaking in the same student committees, always competing for the top spots in planning school events. 

Like now, in the meeting called to discuss the planning of the school’s Winter Formal. 

“I think that that’s a shit idea,” Aemond’s blunt words took everyone aback, but few dared to oppose him, too intimidated by the tall man. 

And the few who dared were mostly you, anyway. 

You raised your eyebrow, tapping your pen on the planning document in front of you. “It’s a winter formal, Targaryen. And white and gold is the traditional theme used for most formals. Isn’t it nice to spruce things up a bit?” 

“You’re proposing to reinvent a winter formal that has been steeped in centuries of tradition,” Aemond remarked sarcastically, glaring at you. “Do you know how many distinguished alumni and guests are on the guest list? I doubt they would find your ‘Christmas Wonderland’ theme proposal charming in any way. Most likely, they’ll think it gaudy and it’ll reflect badly on the school.” 

You snorted, wanting to toss the pen in his fucking infuriating face. Him and his know-it-all voice. “Yes, but you forget, Targaryen, that I am the head of this project. Not you.” You turned to the other members of the planning committee, who all look like they would rather be anywhere other than here, in the midst of you and Aemond’s bickering. “All of those in favour of revamping the winter formal theme, please raise your hands.” 

Your reputation as a tenacious leader clearly had an effect, as most of the members tentatively raised their hands. Shooting a triumphant grin at Aemond, you smugly noted it down and began drafting up the students in charge of decorations. 

One for you, and zero for Aemond. At long last. 

Aemond had reluctantly gone along with the Christmas Wonderland theme, and even he had to admit, a little bit of colour certainly didn’t hurt. White and gold were such dreadfully boring colours, and many of the school’s faculty had expressed their praise for the changed theme this year, much to your delight. 

However, so busy were you with the planning of the winter formal, that you had neglected to do a few important things for yourself. 

Buying a dress and getting a date. 

You paced back and forth in your dorm in panic, two days before the night of the Winter Formal, as your roommate, Rosina, looked at you with increasing frustration. “How could I be so stupid to have forgotten about those things?” You groaned, slumping down on an armchair and putting your head in your hands. 

“The dress problem can be easily solved,” Rosina said bluntly, leaning back against her pillows. “I’ll just lend you one of mine. And who gives a flying fuck about not having a date? A lot of people don’t.” 

“Yes, but I’m the head of the planning committee for this event!” you griped, as Rosina rolled her eyes. “I still don’t see the problem, apart from your stupid fucking dignity getting in the way as usual.” Usually, you loved Rosina’s deadpan, take-no-bullshit nature, but it wasn’t really helpful now. 

“Anyway, from what I've heard, Targaryen doesn’t have a date either, so you don’t need to stress. He’s second-in-charge after you, anyway, so if he doesn’t have a date, you should be fine. It won't be that humiliating.” You slowly lifted your face up, looking at Rosina urgently. “Targaryen doesn’t have a date?” 

“Yeah,” Rosina wrinkled her nose. “He’s hot, sure. But literally everyone who had the courage to ask got rejec- where the fuck are you going?” You were putting on your bra, and brushing through the tangles of your hair. “This is so fucking stupid, but I’m going to ask him.” 

“Are you crazy?” Rosina came to stand next to you, hands on her hips as you roughly used a hairbrush to comb out a tangle. “You know you both hate each other right?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” you bit out. “Wish me luck!” You blew a kiss to Rosina as you left the dorm. “Good luck, you crazy bitch!” You could hear Rosina holler as the dorm room closed behind you. 

You took a deep breath, eyes resting on the dorm door before you. Right. You didn’t know what exactly had possessed you to come here. Maybe it was sheer panic, or stupidity, or both. You knocked lightly, but it seemed no one was in, which made you come to your senses a little bit. “This was a stupid idea,” you muttered, retracting your hand, wanting to just scurry back to your dorm. 

Turning around, however, you knocked into a hard chest. “Oof! I’m so sorry!” You gasped out, before your eyes met a familiar lilac one, an indifferent expression etched on his face. Fucking hell. 

“And what are you doing at my dorm this late, little bookworm?” His voice was raspy, and you couldn’t help but shift your weight from one leg to the other. Was it too late to run? 

You were never a quitter though. And like you said, desperate times called for desperate measures. 

“The winter formal,” you reluctantly gritted out. “I wanted…to ask you to be my date.” Aemond raised an eyebrow, and for a split second, you could see that self-satisfied boy from your youthood again. “You know, you’re supposed to say please, little bookworm.” 

You bit your tongue, wanting to snark him and be done with it. ‘Calm down, calm down, you really do need him. Play nice, Y/N.’ you told yourself sternly, sighing. “Please, will you go to the winter formal with me as my date?” Aemond smirked, looking down at you. Your head was bowed, and he could hear you grinding your teeth a little. You were just too cute sometimes. 

“You should look up at someone when making a request of them, you know,” Aemond said blandly, putting his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Your mouth dropped open, was he serious right now? This dickhead- 

“You know what, fuck it,” you sniffed, beginning to walk away. “If you’re going to be a dick about it as usual, then there’s no point in continuing this conversation. Good fucking night, Targaryen.” 

Aemond watched you walk away, the smirk never leaving his face. You went back to your dorm, immediately burying your face in the pillow, ignoring Rosina’s exasperated sighs of ‘I told you so’. All night, you tossed and turned in frustration, but when morning broke, Rosina shook you awake, ignoring your grumbles. 

You got out of bed grumpily to see what the fuss was about, only to find a note sitting on the table, in a familiar scrawl. 

“Go to the address written below and pick out a dress for tomorrow. Knowing you, you definitely didn’t have time to find one. I’ve already made payment arrangements, so just find one that you like. See you tomorrow. 

Your date, 

Aemond Targaryen.” 

Rosina snorted, bumping your shoulder as you scanned the note for the third time, trying to make sure he wasn’t pulling your leg. “He so likes you.” You looked askance at her. “That’s bullshit.” Rosina chuckled, “Yeah. it’s not, and you know it too.” The conversation abruptly ended when you snatched up a stray cushion and began hitting her with it, ignoring her squeals as she tried to escape. It was impossible. 

And yet? 

A warm feeling burrowed into your stomach, and stayed there for the rest of the day. 

On the night of the Winter Formal, you were frantically scrabbling around your dorm, affixing the final pins to your hair, putting on your final touches of makeup. Rosina was still in classes, but as the winter formal started at 7:30, you, being your endlessly worrying, perfectionist self, had to go at 6 to make sure everything was in order before the guests poured in. 

A knock at the door sounded, and you yelled in response, putting on your lipstick. “Give me a second!” As you swung open the door, your breath momentarily stuttered in your throat. 

Oh dear. 

Aemond stood outside the door, looking like he had just stepped out of the fucking Met Gala or something. He was dressed in a three-piece suit, black with red lapels, with a few shimmers of silver scattered here and there, like he was coated in a layer of stardust. His suit jacket wasn’t really a normal jacket, but a sharply cut cape coat, which made him look a little imposing, but handsome all the same. It was embroidered with small dragon insignias, and you remembered Aemond’s family’s crest was a dragon or something. Of course he would find a way to incorporate that into his outfit. His family were one of the biggest donors of the university, after all. 

You gave him an appraising look, one hand on your hip as you surveyed him. “You…look nice.” Aemond smirked, tossing some of his white-blonde locks over his shoulder haughtily. “I can dress myself, you know. Don’t need to act surprised now.” You rolled your eyes, and Aemond took the chance to scan you from head to toe as well. Dressed in a gorgeous strapless gown of midnight blue, your bodice was streaked with silver as well, shining like starlight among the deep blue of your dress. The skirt flared into elaborate ruffles of tulle and black lace that were almost invisible against the backdrop of the dress, and small silver sparkles twinkled among the ruffles of your gown.

You narrowed your eyes as you realised the both of you were matching, did he do this on purpose? From the way Aemond’s eye was shining in mischief, you were most certain that he did. 

“You look…breathtaking,” his next words took you aback, and you regarded him with a look of unease, unsure of how to respond. Was this truly the Aemond Targaryen you knew? The one whose only language was taunting or disagreeing with you? You somehow managed to recover some semblance of sanity, nodding stiffly. “Thanks…I guess.” 

A self-satisfied smirk appeared on his lips again, as he offered you his arm. “Shall we get going, then? I’m sure you will want to inspect the venue and get your nose into every single little crook and cranny to make sure that it’s perfect.” 

You rolled your eyes, your arm, which were clad in silver silk gloves, slipping into his gingerly. “Spoken like someone who wouldn’t do the same.” 

The formal had been progressing smoothly so far, apart from the few drunken incidents here and there, which you discreetly handled and made a note to provide less alcohol at these events. Much to your delight, your professors had introduced you to some attorneys whom you deeply admired, commending you as one of their finest students in the year. You had taken the chance to network and mingle with them, eagerly seeking out internship and shadowing opportunities for your upcoming holidays, particularly in the field of civil litigation, and many of them had given you their contact details for you to contact them should you wish to work with them.

Aemond stood by you like a silent shadow, watching but not saying much, but your professors also praised him, introducing him to many esteemed alumnus. And once they had learnt that Aemond was from the prestigious Targaryen family, many of them immediately took to flocking Aemond, asking him many questions about his family, his plans for studies, and so on. A slight burning sensation of envy rose in your heart as you watched Aemond disinterestedly converse with them. Why wasn’t he taking it seriously? Had it been you, you would be seizing the opportunity to network with them. 

‘He's a Targaryen,’ you sighed internally. ‘Of course he wouldn’t. It’s been pretty much handed to him on a silver platter his own life anyway.’ 

Sullenly, you slipped away, making rounds around the party to ensure that everything was progressing smoothly. Still, it couldn’t curb the irritableness you were feeling, so you snatched up a bottle of whiskey from the drinks table, pouring yourself a glass. Then two. Then three. Then four turned to seven and seven turned to thirteen glasses. Your surroundings blurred as time seemed to slow, and you sighed, feeling a heady pounding in your head. 

“Are you serious?” A gruff voice interrupted you in your fifteenth? Twentieth? Glass of whiskey, and you looked up from where you had sunk into a plush armchair, a glazed over, slightly cantankerous expression on your face. 

“Well, well,” you hiccuped, lifting the glass to your lips. “If it isn’t Mr Bigshot Targaryen.” Aemond sighed in annoyance, knowing you were picking a fight again. He made a quick assessment of your surroundings, noting two empty whiskey bottles and a third one that was almost drained. Seven fucking Hells, you were drunk. 

You let out an indignant yelp as a hand plucked away your whiskey tumbler, setting it down with a definitive clink. “Hey, I was drinking that!” 

“You’re fucking drunk out of your mind, little bookworm,” he said quietly, crossing his arms. “I’m taking you back to your dorm.” You hiccuped again. “You’re not my dad, Targaryen. So why don’t you just run along and socialise with those schmoozy lawyer friends of yours, hmm? They were all eager to have a piece of you. Or have you grown tired already?” 

Aemond wanted to smack you in the forehead. Oh, this godsforsaken woman. “I may not be your dad, yes,” he rumbled, snatching away the whiskey bottle that you were reaching for and making you curse at him. “But I would be damned if I let you get drunk on your first Christmas Eve spent away from your family.” 

You gave him a confused look. “Is it Christmas Eve?” Aemond frowned. He put a hand on your forehead, to check for a fever, which you promptly batted away. “Have you lost all your senses? The winter formal was scheduled on Christmas Eve, remember?” 

“Oh.” was all you could say, lamely. “I…I was so busy. I didn’t remember.” 

Aemond sighed, taking a seat in the armchair next to you. It was good that it was late and most of the guests had already left, so the both of you had some privacy. The vast hall was empty now, save for a few cleaners. “You know, you have got to take more time for yourself. You take on too many commitments.” 

You hiccuped, snorting softly. Perhaps it was the liquid courage, but you felt a strong inclination to vent out all your previous frustrations on Aemond right now. Who the hell did he think he was, criticising you for your decisions? 

“Yeah, and it’s all your fucking fault.” Aemond’s eye widened incredulously, his mouth dropping open. “My fault? Pray tell, did I ever tell you to overwork yourself that you forget to keep track of when Christmas was?” 

“It’s because of you that I have to overwork myself!” you blustered out, a tidal wave of emotions overtaking you. “Because you’re always so fucking perfect, and smart, and good at every single goddamn thing under the sun. Meanwhile, compared to you, I’ve always had to work twice as hard. And yet, I never come close to beating you. Despite how many fucking extracurriculars I have, how many A’s I get, how much praise I get for being ‘one of the best students in the grade’, it’s never fucking enough! Because you’re always the best! And I’m so sick of it!” 

After your tirade, you deflated like a balloon sucked clean of its air, collapsing back against the armchair. You felt hot wet streaks cascading down your face, but you didn’t care anymore. You were just so tired…it wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be so perfect? 

The touch of a hand on your shoulder startled you, and the next thing you knew, Aemond Targaryen embraced you, gently stroking your hair as if you were a lost child, and he was consoling you. Despite your mind screaming at him to let go, it didn’t translate to your physical actions. You just…stayed there, sobbing in his arms. “I hate you so much, you know. You’ve always had everything handed to you on a silver platter, and it’s like you don’t even care. You always treat things for granted,” you continued rambling on, the dizzy sensation in your head gradually increasing. 

Aemond was silent for a long time. He never anticipated you to feel this way, and the shock from your revelations sent his head reeling. He sighed, how could he ever tell you that he had a stupid crush on you since you were little kids? That his attempts at teasing you, riling you up, were all so you could just look at him for a second longer, even if it was with a scowl? How could he tell you that none of his A’s or first place trophies could make him feel the same fuzzy way he felt whenever you looked at him? He opened his mouth to speak, debating on whether to comfort you, or tell you all his feelings. “Y/N-” 

With a start, he realised you were asleep in his arms as you let out a snore, body slack in his arms. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. Wonderful. This was just the Christmas Eve he wanted. 

The sound of an alarm jolted you from a deep slumber. You flung off the blankets covering you, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. “Ugh…” the pounding in your head was overwhelming, it was like there were a party of elephants having a fiesta in your brain right now. “What time is it…” you reached for the alarm clock to turn it off, only to freeze when a hand reached for it before you did. 

You and Aemond Targaryen stared at each other, wide-eyed, in the dim light of the dorm, while the red digits on the clock read, “6a.m.” 

You were the first to react, frantically struggling as you scooted to the far end of the bed. “Aaaahhhh!” you screamed, clutching the duvet closer to you for protection. “What the fuck are you doing in my dorm?” 

“Wait, we didn’t-” you looked down at yourself, noting with palpable relief that you were still in your winter formal attire, though you stank of alcohol. Thank the Seven. 

Aemond rolled his eyes, grumbling as he switched off his alarm clock. “No, we didn’t sleep together. And this isn’t your dorm. It’s mine.” 

“Then what in the name of the Seven and all that is holy am I doing here?” You hollered at him, the confusion coupled with the pounding in your head making your surroundings spin. “Ow…my head.” 

“Yeah, it’s called a hangover,” Aemond snided, taking a seat on the bedspread. “You know, for drinking nearly three bottles of whiskey last night.” 

Your eyes went wide in horror. “Last night…” You weren’t the type to forget what you did while drunk, so your memory quickly raced through last night’s events, where you got drunk, and…fucking shit. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, muttering curses under your breath as you remembered what had happened last night. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. An awkward silence had lapsed in the room, as you struggled to find words to acquit you of this predicament. ‘Me and my big mouth while I’m drunk.’ 

“I’m sorry,” you both blurted out at the same time, before breaking off, staring at each other awkwardly. “Wait, why are you sorry?” you questioned him, looking dumbfounded. Aemond sighed, smiling wistfully. “Isn’t it obvious? For making you feel that way. I…I had no idea you did.” 

“It’s fine,” you cut him off brusquely, awkwardly fiddling with your fingers as the duvet slowly slid back down. “It’s all just fucking stupid, anyway. Let’s just let it go-” 

Suddenly Aemond seized your hands, holding onto them with some sort of restrained anger. Startled, you stared up at him, as his one eye glazed over with pain and sorrow. “Of course it’s not fine. Don’t brush aside your feelings like that.” you stared at him, stupefied. What had gotten into him? 

Aemond inhaled deeply, looking down at your hands. “You know…how I lost my eye over the break last year right?” You nodded warily, not sure where this was headed. Aemond’s voice shook a little as he recounted that incident. “It was because Luke was drunk, really. He wanted to pick a fight with this guy because he had stolen his girlfriend. And then next thing we knew, his goons surrounded us. Then, I think maybe it was the heat of the moment, or adrenaline…but Luke had a glass shard in his hand, and he accidentally attacked me.” You felt your heart plummet to your stomach. “What?” 

Aemond smiled, a contortion of pain and feigned impassivity. “He was drunk out of his mind, he probably thought I was one of the goons by accident. By the time Jace pulled him off, it was a little too late.” He sighed. “You know, the drunk part I can forgive, but the worst part was that my father didn’t even care to hear my side of the story. He just said that we should’ve been more careful.” His voice hardened, “I was angry, because he just chose to brush this under the rug, pretend like we were still one big happy family, like Luke didn’t slash out my eye in a drunken rage. He didn’t try to comfort me, or understand my situation. And I just…” he shrugged helplessly. 

You bit your bottom lip, looking at his scarred eye. “I’m sorry…that must have hurt. A lot. Your dad is a dick.” 

The ghost of a smirk lingered on Aemond’s lips. “Yeah…he is. I’ve made my peace with it though, and Luke has never stopped apologising since that day. So it is what it is.” He hesitated, before reaching up tentatively, taking off his eyepatch. A gasp sounded from you as you took in the sapphire crammed into where his right eye should’ve been. “...does it look scary?” Aemond asked you, his voice small. You shook your head, unable to tear your gaze away. “It’s not. It’s…quite beautiful, actually. Even though it’s a bit macabre.” 

Aemond chuckled, gently brushing aside a strand of your messed up hair. “My point is, don’t try to just brush things under the rug, okay? It never did anyone any good, and it won’t for you as well.” You shifted, a faint sense of discomfort prickling your skin. “But why…are you telling me all this?” ‘Why are you being so nice? I hated you.’ 

Aemond barked out a rough laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I have a crush on you, little bookworm.” 

You blinked. Once. twice. Thrice. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“I have a crush on you. Since we were kids." Aemond repeated himself, his voice light with amusement, but tender. “Did you know why I always teased you? Why I always wanted to make you frustrated? It was because I wanted your attention. I didn’t care if it was negative or positive, which in hindsight, didn’t seem like a good choice.” 

You stared at him, mouth agape. He-he can’t be serious, can he? 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Aemond said quickly, releasing your hands. “I just wanted you to know how I felt. No brushing things under the rug, you know.” Still, Aemond could feel his heart breaking a little at your silence. He had shot his shot, even though you made it clear that you disliked him. He shouldn’t expect much. “Little bookworm?” he asked carefully, observing your expression. 

“For someone so smart., you’re a real idiot, you know that?” Aemond opened his mouth to answer, but before he knew it, your lips were on his, as you launched yourself at him. Aemond’s eye widened, but then you mumbled, “You’re supposed to kiss me back, you know.” 

Then, with a choked laugh, Aemond did, reaching up to cup your cheeks and stroke them with his thumb as he returned the kiss from the girl of his dreams. Your lips moved in perfect tandem to one another, filled with tender, sweet desperation. “I’ll be an idiot, an annoying pest, anything you want.” Aemond murmured, his lips breaking away for a moment. “As long as you keep tormenting me, as long as you’re still here. I would be your anything.” 

You laughed, feeling slight tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. “You’re such a doofus, you know that?” Aemond flipped you over, making you land on your back with a yelp, as he hovered over you, smirking. “I know. But I’m your doofus.” 

Aemond continued kissing you, his hands roaming across your body sweetly, carefully. “This is probably the best Christmas of my life,” Aemond muttered softly against your lips. Your eyes widened, “Shoot, I completely forgot again.” Aemond laughed, sitting up and looking down at you with a naughty grin on his face. “Well, I actually have a present for you, you know.” 

You raised your eyebrows, looking up at him. Even in nothing but an old, faded sweatshirt and some sweatpants, he looked like a vision sculpted by the Seven. “Oh? And what might that be?” 

“Me, of course,” he said smugly, leaning down to kiss you again. You let out a few whimpers as you felt his hands slowly sliding up your dress, creeping up your thighs…into your panties. 

“Oh!’ you gasped out, as Aemond found the spot between your wet folds. He grinned devilishly, “Already wet for me, hmm?” You rolled your eyes at him, groaning as he teased your wet slit with the pad of his finger. “Just shut up already.’ 

Aemond wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, “Why don’t you make me?’ You blinked, not quite comprehending his point. “I want you to sit on my face while I eat your wet little cunt,” he delineated bluntly, looking at you hungrily. “It’s a victory for you, no? You get your pussy eaten out, and shut me up at the same time. Hell, if I wasn’t so eager for a taste of your pussy, I would’ve grumbled at the unfairness of it.” 

You stared at him incredulously, but you felt the slow rise of arousal in your abdomen as he continued looking at you challengingly whilst teasing your folds, and you decided, why the hell not? “Game on, Targaryen.” 

He grinned, putting his finger in his mouth and groaning as he tasted your essence. You clamped your legs a little tighter at the sight. “You taste so fucking good already. I can’t wait to feel your cunt on my mouth.” Deft fingers helped you out of your gown, and you tossed it away carelessly, moving to take off your underwear. Aemond’s eye trailed over your naked form shamelessly, and he planted a soft kiss on your neck. “Beautiful.” he murmured. You felt your cheeks heat up, but decided to sass him a little. “Well, are we going to wait here all day, or?” Aemond grinned, a handsome, wicked expression that made your stomach do flips. “Definitely not. I need to taste you now.” 

He laid back on his pillows, gesturing at you. “Come here. Now.” You swallowed, crawling towards him, angling your cunt to his face. “Don’t suffocate or anything, okay?” You quipped as a joke, but Aemond only smirked. “No promises, sweetheart.” 

He pulled your hips down towards him, and you let out a pleasured gasp as his tongue flicked across your clit. Moaning, you dug your nails into the wooden headboard of his bed, writhing and shaking slightly as Aemond devoured your pussy. When he pressed the tip of his nose up your slit, you let out a mewl, eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

You rode Aemond’s face eagerly, as he pleasured you without much regard for his own safety. A few times, you were so concerned that Aemond had not come up for air in so long that you tried to move your hips off his face, only for him to firmly grip you by the hips and pull you back down again. With Aemond’s insistent licking and sucking, you felt a coil beginning to form in your stomach. “Oh, god, I’m cumming, Aemond-” you moaned, but your moan was cut off when Aemond lifted you off his face, smirking at you smugly with his face coated in your juices. “Why’d you stop?” you whined, pouting. 

Aemond chuckled. Oh, you were just so adorable sometimes. “Because I want your first time cumming with me to be on my cock,” Aemond explained, looking eerily calm, like he hadn’t just nearly drove you to climax with his tongue. “On your hands and knees.” 

You gave him a scolding look, but Aemond only repeated himself, sterner this time. “Now, princess.” The nickname earned a shiver from you, and you found yourself obeying, shifting on your hands and knees. You heard Aemond dispose of his own clothing, and your legs quivered in anticipation as he came up behind you. 

He chuckled darkly, landing a few gentle spanks on your ass. “Gods, this ass is magnificent. I’m going to have to spank it someday.” You had to bite back a moan as he leaned over you, whispering sweetly into your ear. His other hand wandered to your chest, pinching and then rubbing your sensitive, hardened buds, releasing a shaky, shuddering moan from you. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Having my hands all over this perfect ass of yours? Leaving red handprints over it? Hmm?” 

You nearly choked on your saliva as you fought to answer, “Yes, daddy.” He groaned, smacking your ass lightly for a few more times. “Good fucking girl,” he punctuated each word with such raw intensity it made your cunt ache for him. Oh, how you craved him.

As if he could read your mind, Aemond began to enter you, groaning as he did. Inch by inch, he sunk in, watching his cock disappear inside your warm, wet folds. “Gods, you are so fucking tight,” he swore, his hands gently going around to pinch your nipples. You yipped, which brought a smile to his face. How could someone be so perfect? 

Your legs were quivering at this point, and you were barely hanging on by a thread as Aemond sunk into you slowly, reaching places so deep and so pleasurable. You moaned, just how big was he? 

“All in, princess,” he whispered affectionately, stroking your hair gently. “You okay?” “Yeah…” your voice was slightly raspy from the pleasure. “Good.” Aemond kissed down your spine gently, making goosebumps rise up on your skin. “Do you want it hard and fast, or slow and gentle?” 

Biting your lip, you managed to stutter out, “Slow, please. Need to get used to you.” Aemond smiled, hands trailing down your abdomen. “Anything you want, princess.” 

Then, Aemond began to move, and the world dissolved into a fuzzy nothingness as he did. He was so careful, taking his time with you, thrusting so deep inside you it elicited the most delicious, deep sighs and moans from you. “Oh…that’s the spot,” you murmured as Aemond’s cock hit your g-spot, making you see stars. Aemond chuckled darkly, one hand moving to play with your hardened nipples, watching as you arched your back into him. “I’m going to go faster now, alright, princess?” he murmured, the other hand soothingly trailing down your spine. You barely managed to gasp out the words “yes” before Aemond began to thrust harder and faster in you, hips ramming into yours as his cock stroked the most sensitive spots inside of you. 

You moaned, panting needily as he did, feeling your ruined orgasm beginning to creep up again. “Aemond, am gonna come-” A guttural moan torn from Aemond’s throat as he heard that, his hands moving to flip you over as his movements slowed. “No.” He nearly snarled, turning you around to face him. “You come looking at my face, princess. Understood?” 

You nodded, too desperate for your orgasm to object, as Aemond wrung moan after moan out of your pliant body, mouth kissing and biting everywhere on your neck and shoulders, leaving his marks all over you. He groaned as he began laving his attention on your perky tits again, mouth sucking at them harshly, teeth grazing over the nub. You shut your eyes, too lost in the pleasure as Aemond continued pounding into you, gripping your hips tightly. 

“Eyes open, darling, or I won’t let you come,” Aemond’s rough sounding command made your eyes snap open, and he grinned roguishly as he saw your eyes fixed on his face. “Atta girl. Are you close?” 

You nodded, pleading, “Please let me come, Aemond. Can’t last much longer…” 

“I know, darling. I know,” Aemond groaned, leaning in to kiss you again. “You’re just a needy little slut for me, aren’t you?” You nodded frantically, anything to make him let you cum. He chuckled, “Thought so. It’s alright though, daddy likes needy little sluts like you, so long as they’re obedient. You’re a good girl, aren’t you, princess?” 

“Yes, yes, I am,” you cried out, hands moving to grip at the sheets tightly. “Oh god, I’m going to come, I’m coming-” 

Aemond’s fingers moved downwards, and his thumb rubbed over your clit, coaxing you towards your orgasm. With a loud cry, you came all over Aemond, eyes squeezing shut in unadulterated pleasure. Aemond’s thrusts didn’t slow a bit, as he chased his own high, groaning. “Do you want me to come inside, or…” 

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you reassured him, looking up at him, smoothing his white-blonde locks back from his forehead. He looked like an angel, all sweaty, his expression filled with pleasure and hunger and affection as he looked down at you. An angel of lust. 

Aemond moaned at that, feeling his dick twitch before he spilled inside of you, hands going to grip at the headboard tightly, as he rode out his orgasm. 

Aemond collapsed onto the bed next to you, taking you into his arms. “I should probably get you cleaned up,” he murmured softly, “But I just want to be selfish for a while, and cuddle with you a bit. That okay?” You nodded, leaning your head onto his chest. A content sigh burst from your lips. “More than okay. We can just shower together later, anyway.” 

Aemond hummed in approval at your proposal, kissing your forehead gently. The both of you stayed in each other’s arms for a while, basking in the afterglow of sex and in each other’s company. 

“Hey, princess?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, Aemond.”

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“And what exactly is the difference between these two?” Daemon’s disgusted voice broke you from your focus as you focused on beating the milk and sugar. You sighed, turning to face Daemon as he held up the bag of flour and baking powder, looking confused. 

Why in the Seven Hells did you think it would be a good idea to try and rope your husband into helping you to bake gingerbread cookies? 

If it weren’t for the two twin girls soundly asleep upstairs in their beds, eagerly awaiting for your household’s traditional gingerbread cookies, you might have laughed until you woke the whole neighbourhood by now. 

“This, my dearest husband,” you took the bag of flour from his hand, “Is the flour. Or all-purpose flour as we call it.” 

“And what are its purposes?” Daemon inquired, a scowl on his face as his gaze flickered between the baking powder and flour. 

You paused, “I…actually don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s just essential.” Daemon scoffed, “Darling, are you sure you know how to bake?” You shoot him a glare. “Who’s the one struggling to tell the difference between flour and baking powder, darling?” You moved to check on the mixture in the mixing bowl. Your husband came up behind you, hopefully not to ask another question about the difference and functions of baking ingredients. 

Arms encircled you, as Daemon buried his face in your hair, inhaling your sweet floral scent. “You know…” Daemon murmured, hands creeping towards the front of your shorts. “I might not understand anything about baking, but you sure look sexy as hell while doing it.” 

“Mmm,” you hummed, playing along as Daemon continued kissing your neck. “Daemon, the girls.” 

“Won’t hear a thing,” Daemon concluded, trying to tug off your shorts. “As long as you’re quiet, darling.” 

You smirked, pressing yourself up against him. A groan and his hardness pressing against you made you know you had succeeded, causing your smirk to widen. “Come on, darling, what do you say?” Daemon murmured, hands grazing over your pussy over your shorts. “Let me fuck you?” 

“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it. “I say…help me roll up the dough into two balls, you dirty dog.” You spun around, pushing him off you gently. 

Daemon raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips, looking not at all bothered by your rejection. “I know what other two balls you can play with-'' He laughed as you shoved the mixing bowl in his arms, looking at him sternly. “Less dirty talk, more rolling please. I’d actually like to get some sleep before having to wake up early to bake these tomorrow.” 

“Yes, madam,” Daemon responded in a sly voice, as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

The two of you made fast work of it, rolling the dough into two balls, before putting them in the fridge. You let out a sigh of relief as you began washing up the bowls in the sink, it was only 11 o’ clock, which meant that the two of you could get in eight hours of sleep before having to wake up tomorrow to bake the cookies. 

When you finally finished washing up, you wiped your hands on the kitchen cloth, brows furrowing a little. It was quiet…too quiet. 

“Daemon?” You called out, scanning the kitchen for your oversized man toddler. You had asked him to put the ingredients back into the pantry, but the man was nowhere to be seen. “Daem-“ 

You let out a squeal as strong arms scooped you up, bridal style. Daemon carried you like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll, briskly walking up the stairs to your shared bedroom. 

“Daemon, what are you-“ you squealed again as he tossed you onto your bed roughly, immediately climbing over you and removing his sweatpants. “You think it’s funny, hmm?” Daemon lifted an eyebrow as he continued undressing himself, then moving to undress you. “Teasing me like a brat in the kitchen, acting all smart with me in the kitchen, like you’re better than me hmm?” 

You stifled a giggle, coyly trailing a finger down Daemon’s abs. “Well, to be fair, you were the one who confused sugar for salt. I think I-“ You yelped as Daemon flipped you over onto your stomach, landing a harsh smack on your ass. “Not so feisty now, are we?” He taunted, spanking you again. 

You choked on your breath as he continued spanking you harshly, but the inner brat in you refused to submit. “Says the man who doesn’t know the difference between a spatula and a whisk,” you mocked, sticking up your ass even more, leaning into his touch. 

Daemon growled, hand landing on your ass so harshly that it made you yip in pain. He immediately moved to cover your mouth. “Shh, little whore,” he said condescendingly, smirking down at you. “Don’t want to wake the girls, don’t you?” 

You were about to argue back, but then Daemon, clearly having had enough of your bratty attitude, thrust into you harshly from behind, making you scream into his mouth. He rubbed your back soothingly with the other hand, shushing you like you were a small child. “Shh, shh, I thought you said that we shouldn’t wake the girls, yes?” Daemon’s words were mockingly sweet, as he began pumping into you leisurely. He still kept his hand over your mouth, muffling any of your moans and cries as he fucked you. He groaned as you clenched tighter around him when he went faster, his hips snapping into yours. “Oh, the little whore likes it when I treat her rough like this, doesn’t she?” Daemon taunted, emphasising his words by thrusting into you when he called you a little whore. “Likes it when her daddy just fucks her with no care in the world, doesn’t she?” 

You nodded eagerly, and Daemon smiled wolfishly at that, planting kisses down your neck down your spine. “Such a good fucking girl, mmm, all for me,” Daemon smacked your ass lightly a few times, groaning at the erotic sound of skin slapping on skin. 

You felt a heated whisper against your ear, as Daemon grazed his lips against your ear, making you shiver. “And do you know what good girls get, sweetheart?” Daemon pulled back with a smirk as he watched you with mock pity. “Oh yes, my hand is still around your mouth. Tsk, how silly of me to forget.” He relished in the indignant “mmph!” noises he heard from you in response. 

“I’ll tell you the answer, sweetheart,” Daemon said blandly, like he wasn’t currently ploughing into you right now with the vigour of a bull. “Good girls get to cum, sweetheart.” With that, his other hand went down to your swollen pearl, rubbing it with his thumb. He laughed as he heard your noises becoming more and more needy, letting out a sated sigh as he felt you cum on his cock, your walls tightening around him as you did. 

“Oh, beautiful,” he leaned down and kissed you, taking note of how out of breath you were as he released his hand from your mouth. A smug smirk flickered on his lips. You were shaking so badly…

Too bad he wasn’t known for being “The Merciful” in the business world. 

You yelped when Daemon flipped you over. Your back hit the cool sheets, but they provided little relief as Daemon seized your legs, forcing them to wrap around his waist as he continued thrusting in you. Cries of pleasure fell from your lips as Daemon’s hot mouth went to suck on your swollen, hardened nipples, biting them lightly and delighting as you writhed under his tongue. 

“I can’t come again, Daemon, please,” you cried out, as Daemon’s pounding grew more and more intense and you felt the familiar coil in your stomach again. Daemon released your nipple with a wet pop, and looked menacingly into your eyes. 

“Yes, you can. You little slut.” 

Daemon lowered his mouth back onto your heated, sweaty skin again, this time devoting his attention to your neck and collarbone, while his hands came up to play and fondle with your tits, squeezing them. You let out a strangled moan as you came again, as Daemon flicked his thumb at your hardened bud. 

You had hoped that Daemon would let you go after that, but your husband had other plans. Your head initially lolled back against the pillows in exhaustion, but it snapped up again as Daemon spread your legs even wider. “What…”

A wicked grin was all you saw before Daemon dived between your folds, eagerly licking up your wet, swollen slit “No, no, no more,“ you cried out, hips bucking off the bed as you tried to pull yourself away from his hot, needy mouth, but firm hands gripped your hips tightly, preventing you from moving an inch more. 

You were always the sweetest thing Daemon had ever tasted, and he especially loved eating you out after your orgasms, with your legs shaking and barely managing to keep a hold of your sanity as he ravished you with his mouth. 

When you felt his skilled tongue flicking at your clit, you could feel your orgasm approaching again, your body trembling in preparation for it. “Daemon, I can’t, I can’t-“ A strangled moan tore from your throat as you came, squirting Daemon’s face and tongue with your juices. Daemon chuckled darkly against your folds, refusing to stop until he had licked up every trace of your cum. 

Exhausted after the three orgasms wrung from you, you collapsed back on the pillows. You felt a finger running along your overstimulated slit, as Daemon pulled himself up to you again, kissing you sweetly, a stark contrast from his former ravenous, wicked demeanour. 

Daemon pushed his finger into your mouth, giving you a simple command. “Taste yourself, darling.” Your tongue hesitantly darted out, sucking your own juices off his finger. A sigh emerged from your lips, and Daemon smiled, kissing your forehead. “Is it over now?” you mumbled softly, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Mmm,” Daemon hummed, looking down at your blissed out, fucked out state. “I think you’re forgetting something, darling.” 

You opened your eyes, looking confused. Eyes darting to the clock on the wall opposite your bed, your brows furrowed. “Merry…Christmas, love?” 

Daemon burst out laughing, hand trailing down to play with your nipples again. “Not that, darling,” he whispered, a devilish grin on his face. “I still haven’t come yet, haven’t I?” 

Oh, fuck.

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“He whispered his final wish that his firstborn son, Aegon, should succeed him!” 

To anyone, Prince Aemond seemed the portrait of composure: his arms clasped behind his back, his expression cool and disinterested. Yet if one looked closely enough, they would see the tension in his jaw, his teeth gritted, his posture bordering more on stiff than of calmness. His lone violet eye glittered as he observed Aegon walking under the raised swords of the knights, looking as recalcitrant as always. 

‘Had that been me…’ he thought bitterly, ‘I would’ve carried myself with pride. The smallfolk would’ve took one look at me and trusted that I had the greatness, the capability, to lead House Targaryen into the apex of our power.’ 

‘And yet,’ Aemond mused to himself as his mother kissed Aegon on the forehead, ‘reality is often disappointing.’

His fists clenched at his sides. It was unfair, his brother was naught but a wastrel, a fool constantly drunk in his cups and oft found buried in the tits of some common whore. What right had he to rule, save for being the firstborn son? How could someone as useless as him be Lord of the Seven Kingdoms? Even with their grandsire by his side giving him counsel, when his half sister received word of the coronation, and of their father’s death…Aemond dreaded to think what would happen. Would Aegon be able to rise up to the defence of their family?

Aemond took a deep breath to steady himself, when suddenly, he felt a warm hand grasping his, gently unclenching his fingers from his tightly formed fist. Surprised, he looked over to the unexpected source of comfort. His lady wife stood next to him, an indifferent expression on her lovely face as she kept her eyes fixed on the smallfolk. He noticed that she was holding his sweet sister, Helaena’s hand in her other hand, and his mind halted in its baleful, raging course to settle on her instead, admiring her. 

My beautiful, brilliant lady wife. 

She would’ve been the most wonderful queen, he thought, and the wave of resentment began its course once more. As if sensing the switch in Aemond’s thoughts, she squeezed his hand lightly in hers. Aemond marvelled at his wife, amazed at how she always could sense the slightest shifts in his moods, even when her eyes were not on him. And just like that, the worry and the resentment fell away, and his envy for his brother became a little easier to bear, even just for that moment. 

But…he felt a sense of strangeness creep over him as he took in his wife’s features. Her face was impassive, but it was hard and cold, as if she did not approve of this very scene. As Aegon raised Blackfyre and rallied the crowd, and his wife squeezed Helaena’s hand tighter, Aemond realised that mayhaps her gesture was not done solely out of comfort, but for anxiety.

For fear. 

You were chewing on your bottom lip, Helaena’s hand still in yours as you both stewed in contemplative silence, each engulfed with thoughts and worries of your own. Aemond frowned as he watched his sister and his beloved. Aegon had ridden in a separate wheelhouse with their mother and grandsire, and mayhaps it was for the better, given the gloomy atmosphere. 

When they were back in the safety of their apartments, Aemond followed his wife’s every movement in rapt attention. You began unravelling the tight updo that your hair was in, running your hands through your long locks pensively. It was done now…you were true traitors to the Crown. You sighed, wanting nothing more than to crawl in bed and hope that this was nothing but an unpleasant dream. 

Suddenly, you felt warm arms engulfing you from behind. Aemond dropped his chin onto his beloved’s shoulder as he embraced her, breathing in her scent. “Tell me what troubles you, my love,” his voice husky. 

You shook your head slightly, trying to mask your thoughts. “Tis nothing, my love. I swear it.” 

Aemond chuckled, a dark and soft sound. “Liar.” 

He spun his beloved round to face him, taking note of her expression. “I know you are worried,” his voice was soft, “We are husband and wife, my love. Whatever troubles you hold, I want to know all of it. We swore before the Gods, did we not? To share each other’s burdens? We will honour our vows, do we not?” 

Your lips twisted slightly, trying not to grimace. “If vows were of any matter to us, then we would not have committed such a grave sin.” Aemond frowned, the reasons for his wife’s anxiety suddenly becoming apparent to him. “Aegon is the King now,” he reminded her, “My father named him so.” 

You let out a humourless snort. “He was an old man, half senile and drunk on the Milk of Poppy.” Aemond opened his mouth as if to protest, but you continued before he could. “The late king had named Rhaenyra as his heir. Even when the Stranger drew close, he had forsaken his health and braved through his pain to uphold Rhaenyra’s claim during Vaemond’s speech. Does the Hand expect all of Westeros to believe the King changed his mind all of a sudden on his deathbed? It is insanity, and even a deaf fool would know better.” 

“Enough,” Aemond’s voice was low, tinged with warning. “You will not insult my grandsire like this. It is done now, and that is the truth.” You persisted, however. “Putting that aside, Rhaenyra will seek to have all our heads when the news breaks. How can your grandsire be as foolish as to put all of us in danger like this?” 

Aemond arched a brow, “Is that what you’re worried about?” “Are you not worried about that?” Aemond laughed, “We have dragons, my love. I should think Vhagar, Sunfyre and Dreamfyre are enough to defend us. That whore on Dragonstone will soon realise that she can get angry, and she can spit and curse all she wants, but she cannot match against our might.” 

You looked unconvinced, which irked Aemond a little. Why was she so worried? “Do not tell me,” his voice was low with menace, “That you are loyal to Rhaenyra. That you are sympathetic to that whore’s cause.” You kept mum, but your eyes told Aemond everything he needed to know. He snarled, moving to pin you against the wall. 

Your eyes widened with panic, your hands moving to push Aemond away, but he held your wrists in a vice grip. You had never seen him so angry with you before. “You are my wife,” he hissed angrily, “Your priorities should lie with me, with my family. Our family. In keeping us safe from that accursed whore and my uncle.” “And making Aegon king, usurping the rightful queen, is supposed to keep us safe?” You argued, unintimidated. “Have you lost all your senses, Aemond? We are traitors! Usurpers! You claim protecting your family is your priority, but yet you allow your grandsire to risk our lives for his mad grab for power!” Aemond’s grip tightened on your wrists, causing you to wince and fall silent. Aemond took notice of that, but he couldn’t let you go. Not just yet. He needed to make his point. 

“I said, do not speak of my grandsire in that manner,” he seethed. “He is my family, and I will not tolerate you insulting him.” He took a deep breath, letting go of his wife’s wrists, and she took the chance to push him away before fleeing to their bed. He sighed and sat down next to her, but she only moved away and folded her arms, turning her back on him. He heard a soft sniffle, and he realised with horror that she was crying. He had made her cry. 

A pang of guilt shot through Aemond’s heart, and he tentatively reached out to put his hands on her shoulders, dismayed when she flinched away from his touch. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, my love,” he said quietly, “I got carried away, and I hurt you. I apologise for that.” He saw her shoulders lose some of their tension at his apology, and a glimmer of hope shone in his violet eye. Mayhaps he could make her see his viewpoint after all. He knew of her house’s loyalty to Rhaenyra’s claim, and how she might be swayed to support Rhaenyra’s claim, but she had to see. That this was the best for their family. 

“My love…” he bit his lip, “I know my words were harsh, but it is true. What is done is done. Even if I dislike Aegon being on the throne, he is my brother. If Rhaenyra had taken the throne, she would’ve had us executed. She would not suffer any presence that could be a threat to her claim to the throne. Even if she did not, there is no doubt Daemon would.” He took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently. “Rhaenyra is impulsive, violent and reckless. You saw how she took off Vaemond’s head when his only crime was speaking the truth. Her son blinded me when we were naught but boys,” Aemond’s voice became hard. “If we allow her to ascend the throne, that means that the Strong bastard, Jace, would ascend the throne after her. Do you really think the realm would really bow before him?” 

Your hard gaze softened a little, and Aemond saw a window of opportunity. “Think rationally, my love,” Aemond pleaded softly, “My father may have named Rhaenyra the heir, but it is an irreplaceable fact that the lords of Westeros would never bow before her. The Seven Kingdoms would plunge into chaos, do you really want that?” Aemond raised her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “I know you’re afraid of Rhaenyra’s wrath, but I ask of you to trust me. Trust that I will keep us safe, no matter what.” 

“...I’m not sure if you can, Aemond.” Aemond’s heart dropped, “Whatever do you mean?” You finally turned to face him, and he was alarmed when he took note of the tears glistening at the corner of your eyes. “Aemond…I’m with child. For nearly three moons now.” 

Aemond swore his heart stopped at that very moment. But his shock only lasted briefly before he pulled you into his arms, voice filled with excitement and wonder, “You’re with child? Our child?” When he broke the embrace, you were surprised to see the corner of his violet eye wet. Aemond dropped to his knees in front of you, stroking his hand over your stomach reverently, in disbelief almost. “We’re going to be parents…” he murmured, “I’m going to be a father.” 

But even in Aemond’s joy, you could not find it in yourself to smile. Not with the threat of the impending succession war. Aemond noticed your discomfort, but nothing could take away the happiness he felt at the moment. “My love, you don’t have to be afraid,” his voice was reassuring, “I swear on my honour, on the Old Gods and the New, on the Seven and all my ancestors, that I would burn the world to ashes on Vhagar before I let anyone lay a finger on you or our child.” He took your hand, cradling it in his, tilting his head upwards, a pleading look in his eye, for you to believe in him, to trust him to keep you safe. 

“But even all the dragons in this world will not keep us from reaping the fate we sowed,” you said quietly, eyes never leaving Aemond’s. “The gods will strike us down for our treason.” 

Aemond rolled his eye, exasperated that his wife just didn’t seem to grasp the true extent of their power. “We are Targaryens, my love,” Aemond said self-assuredly. “We possess dragons, the largest, most dangerous and powerful creatures in the world. The gods may try as they might, but they can never strike us down. Seven hells, I would dare say we are the gods, my love,” Aemond chuckled at how your eyes widened at his brazen words. “For what other than a god can mount a dragon, and command it?” “Don’t say things like that, Aemond,” you were aghast, “The Seven will-” 

“Fuck the Seven,” Aemond said bluntly. “When men pray, the Gods never answer. Why should we fear the consequences inflicted upon us by some unknown higher power?” He resumed his seat on their bed, pulling you back into his embrace and gently stroking your hair. “We need not fear the Gods, my love,” he murmured softly. “You will see soon enough, when war comes, and the Gods do nothing to interfere, then you will come to revere them less. In the meantime, you will come to see who the true gods are, when our dragons raze the earth and win this godforsaken war.” 

It was known to all that the gods despise hubris, and perhaps they were watching that evening, when you laid your head on Aemond’s chest with a sigh and allowed him to soothe and comfort you, making promises that he would keep you safe no matter what. 

Aemond had been so sure in his words, so confident in his beliefs and in his abilities, and blinded by his ego. Mayhaps this was what drove him when he bade Vhagar prowl around Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon Arrax in the stormy skies of Storms’ End, shouting for the Strong bastard to repay the debt he owed. 

Mayhaps his pride was what had blinded him to the possibility that he could never keep his family safe after his act of kinslaying. 

But he knew for sure that he had regretted making an enemy of the gods when he saw you, eyes wide with fear, a sharp dragonglass blade to your throat as you were held hostage by some cutpurse. An eye for an eye, a son for a son, the cutpurse had grinned, before slitting your throat and lodging the dagger into your stomach. 

It mattered not how much Aemond had howled with grief as he held your lifeless frame in his arms, begging for you to wake up. It mattered not when Aemond personally tortured your assassin with the most vicious methods he could devise, flaying every inch of skin from his body until he had expired. Even in death, he was not spared of Aemond’s wrath. His body was marked with incisions when it was finally fed to Vhagar, courtesy of Aemond cutting out his heart and crushing it with his bare hands. It mattered not when Aemond had sworn to avenge you no matter the cost, to cut down Daemon Targaryen and give him the same treatment he had for the cutpurse. It took the combined efforts of the Queen Dowager, Queen Helaena, King Aegon, the Hand, and many other lords and knights of the Kingsguard to prevent him from mounting Vhagar upon the cutpurse’s death to fly to Dragonstone. A fool’s folly, they called it, but Aemond had drawn his sword and snarled at them to get out of his way, lest they wish to be the recipient of Vhagar’s flames. It was only when Alicent motioned for Ser Criston to deliver a blow that rendered Aemond unconscious that they could restrain him at all. 

A part of Aemond had died that day, and he rained curses upon the Seven, on his uncle, on his wretched half-sister as he took his seat in the Small Council, being the advocate for absolute and brutal violence against the Blacks. And yet he did not repent for looking down upon the gods, not even till the day when he faced his uncle Daemon in battle and died in the cursed halls of Harrenhal. Another casualty of the Dance of the Dragons. 

After all, even the Valyrian dragonlords of old had not been able to escape the Stranger’s clutches when death came for them. And Aemond Targaryen was no different. 

...i’m very sorry :( but I swear, happier Aemond one shots are coming 😭

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‘By the gods,’ you swore silently to yourself, watching the scene unfold before you, ‘I did not think that I could have anticipated anything quite as worrisome as this.’ 

Your wedding day was in less than a week’s time, and your anxiety was just reaching breaking point. 

You stood uncomfortably on a slightly raised dais, attempting to keep as still as possible while the seamstresses around you fussed with the measurements of your wedding gown and cloak, adjusting it to perfection. You were unsuccessful in your regard, as you occasionally winced from the sharp sting of a needle poking your skin. Helaena sat in one corner of the room, observing the proceedings with a dreamy smile, which you returned. But it was the presence of the Queen Alicent that made you feel a little discomfited. Though the Queen was watching the scene with a smile, you saw glimmer of sorrow in her eyes every now and then, though it was quickly masked by her usual veneer of geniality. You wondered with a small blip of terror if the Queen was having second thoughts of wedding you to her beloved second son, but your worries were soon soothed with the thoughts of your beloved. You had greatly enjoyed the time you had both spent over the past few weeks: he had been nothing but a consummate gentleman and lover, nothing like the rumours of the cold prince you were once deceived by. Even now, thinking of your beloved, you had a rosy tinge to your cheeks and a smile on your face, despite the sting of the needles. You simply could not wait to discover what marital bliss your marriage will bring. 

In another room, Aemond was faring far better than his fair lady was. Despite the rather unneeded presence of his grandsire in the room, scrutinising every move the tailors made, Aemond found himself to be quite far away from current happenings. His mind kept wandering back to his lady, and the sheer elation he felt that he would be wedding her in less than a week. It had been nearly a moon’s turn since he had confessed his true feelings to her, and every day since then has felt like a dream he never wished to wake from. He thought he would never experience more happiness as he had when he had claimed Vhagar, but this…it was a different sort of joy entirely. A contentment far more peaceful, and he found that he preferred this contentment to the hot blooded rush of triumph and adrenaline every time he rode Vhagar or won in his sparring jousts with Ser Criston. 

The both of you had spent the past few weeks spending nearly every waking moment with each other: you watching him train at arms with a wide smile on your lovely face that never ceased to spur him on, which always made Ser Criston raise his eyebrows in both amusement and a sort of pride; both of you discussing histories and philosophies in the library, where Aemond had discovered your passion for dissecting philosophical theology, much to his delight; strolling in the gardens and watching you blush with joy whenever he picked a flower and put it in your hair. He had also made it a custom to bring you a hand-picked bouquet of flowers every day, utterly enchanted by the near ethereal glow of happiness on his lady’s face every time he presented the bouquet to you. If he were a better painter, he would have asked you to sit for a portrait. Alas. Well, he could always commission the best painter in Westeros to do so, although he wasn’t quite sure if they would be able to capture your essence. 

Aemond sometimes thought it foolish that he had fallen in love so hastily, and so deeply at that. But he realised that when he woke up thinking about your smile and went to sleep every night thinking about how to make you smile even wider the next morrow, that no matter how much of a fool’s folly this may be, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He could not wait to be wedded to you. 

The merry toll of bells resounded throughout King’s Landing, as nearly every single noble lord and lady gathered before the Iron Throne to celebrate the wedding of Prince Aemond Targaryen to his much cherished bride. 

Aemond fidgeted nervously with the hem of his sleeves, a habit he hadn’t done since he was a young child. He had never really liked crowds, despite being a Prince. Helaena, who was standing next to him, separating him from a probably drunk Aegon, patted his arm reassuringly. Aemond turned his head to shoot her a small, grateful smile, just as trumpets heralded the entrance of the bride. 

The courtiers turned their head to the doors, and gasps rippled through the crowd as they beheld the bride. Aemond felt as though he had lost all capability to function. 

There you were, gliding towards him in a gown of white, looking like a vision of the Maiden herself. Delicate spirals of gold and flowers adorned the thick brocade and silk of your gown, a thick cloak of your House’s colours draped snugly across your shoulders. You were escorted down the aisle by your lord father, who was beaming with pride while shedding some very non-discrete tears. Aemond felt like weeping himself, and Helaena was tearing up a little herself. 

When you reached the end of the aisle, your father removed the cloak from your shoulders, kissing you on your forehead, before entrusting your hand to Aemond, your beloved, who looked extremely dashing in his intricately tailored white wedding clothes. “Take care of my daughter, Your Grace,” your father said tearfully. Aemond gave the man a nod, “I will love her till the end of my days, my lord. Have no fear.” Then, Aemond turned to face you, a wide smile on his face, as he draped a heavy cloak of black and red across your shoulders. “My princess, my lady wife,” he whispered softly to you, caressing your hand in his. You smiled back at him, “My prince. My lord husband.” The both of you walked to the septon, pure joy emanating from your faces, as he officially pronounced the both of you man and wife, much to the raucous cheers of the crowd behind you. 

The wedding feast was underway, and laughter and merriment was abound. For your first dance, you were whirled around the room by your husband, whose smile had not left his face since the moment he saw you. “I find it difficult to believe this is your first time waltzing, husband,” you said incredulously. “You are as nimble and graceful as any other lord in the room.” Aemond laughed softly, “Believe it or not, my lady, it is the first.” “But why?” you questioned, as Aemond twirled you around. Aemond looked hesitant, before answering softly, “Perhaps it was because I’ve never found the right dancing partner, until now.” You blushed, unsure of how to answer back, when Prince Jacaerys cut in, gallantly asking you for a dance, which you happily granted. What you did not notice however, was Aemond clenching his jaw as he watched you being whisked away by Lord Strong, but he shoved down the overbearing urge to punch the bastard in his face. ‘My love would be unhappy if I ruined our night,’ he kept repeating to himself, although he clenched his fists when he returned to the table and Aegon shot him a smirk, having saw everything. “Weren’t you drowning yourself in your cups, brother?” Aemond narrowed his eyes at him. “And weren’t you dancing with your bride? Oh wait,” Aegon said mockingly, “You’ve been forsaken for Jace once more.” 

Now Aegon was the one Aemond wished to punch. But he took a deep breath, not wanting to cause any conflict on such a joyous night. It wasn’t worth it to get riled up over Aegon’s japes, it never was. However, Aemond felt miserable as he watched you getting twirled around by Jace, laughing with him, instead of him. No matter, in the end, it was him that was your husband, not the Strong bastard, nor anyone else. 

You were a little out of breath, after being asked to dance by three other lords after Prince Jacaerys. Now, you were exhausted, and wished nothing more than to return to your husband’s side and converse with him, particularly about…You felt your cheeks heat up at the thought. Of your wedding night. 

Spotting your husband sitting at the head table, you began to make your way towards him, but you were stopped by a familiar figure swathed in Hightower green. “Your Grace,” your eyes widened, before you dropped to a curtsey. Queen Alicent looked down at you with a smile, “At ease, please, we are family now, after all. You should address me as Mother instead.” You straightened, looking unsure as you glanced at your husband, who had already noticed you being accosted by his mother and was looking a little concerned. “Of course, Your Gr- I mean, Mother,” you said hesitantly. Queen Alicent’s smile turned a little warmer, “You may relax, dear, I merely wanted to have a conversation with you, from mother to daughter-in-law. Would you mind having a drink with me?” 

“I would be honoured, Your Grace.” Queen Alicent swept towards her seat at the head of the table, you following obediently behind her, but not before looking to your husband for guidance, and perhaps some help. As you passed by Aemond, he squeezed your hand in a reassuring gesture, which made your nerves sooth a little. ‘I can do this’, you chanted in your head, ‘tis only the Queen after all. And we are family now, this sort of thing is inescapable.’ Queen Alicent gestured for you to take a seat, as the servants began pouring wine into your goblets. “I trust you understand what would happen after the wedding feast, yes?” You fought the urge to blush, as you answered, “Yes, Your- Mother. Septa Marlow has kindly instructed me on the matter.” The Queen nodded approvingly, “Good, then we can move on to the other matter I wish to speak of then.” You were startled, what other matter could the Queen wish to speak of with you? 

The Queen took a sip of her wine, and for the first time, you noticed a certain sort of apprehension in her expression. The Queen said your name carefully, before asking, “Are you happy with my son?” You were struck by her sudden question, but you answered truthfully, “Yes, I am. He’s chivalrous, kind, and I have no doubt he would be a loving husband. I couldn’t have found a better husband.” The Queen smiled, but there was a certain bitterness in it. “You do not know how it warms my heart to hear you say so. Among my sons, I cherish Aemond the most. Though he may be…impassioned at times, my son is a good man. And it pleases me so that he is lucky enough to have found a wonderful woman such as you as his wife. I am certain that you will both have a happy union.” You blinked, taken aback by the scale of her compliments, “Thank you, my Queen. You flatter me, truly.” Suddenly, Aemond appeared next to you, hand on your shoulder as he greeted his mother. “Mother, if I may, I must steal my wife away for the moment. It is nearly time for the bedding ceremony.” 

“Oh, yes, I nearly forgot about that.” The Queen laughs, standing up. She pecked her son on the cheek, “Well, the both of you best be off to your bedchambers then. I will await for the both of you to break fast with me on the morrow.” Aemond inclined his head and smiled tenderly at his mother, “Of course, Mother. I bid you good night.” When the Queen had walked away, Aemond gave you a sheepish smile, “Did my mother trouble you in any way?” You shook your head, though you were still reeling a little at the oddity of your conversation with the Queen. “No, my love…she only wished to express her congratulations to our union.” 

Aemond breathed a sigh of relief, the tension seeping out of his muscles. “I’m glad to hear that.” He lowered his head to whisper huskily in your ear, “Now…how scandalous do you think it would be if I swept you into my arms right now and carried you to our bedchambers to consummate our marriage?” You looked at him with a mix of amusement and mortification, trying to discern how serious he was being. “I think we would be unable to show our face in court for nigh a moon’s turn.” 

Aemond sighed mournfully, “A shame then….that I do not much care for that.” With that, he scooped you up into his arms, grinning wolfishly at your shriek of surprise and the bemused and intrigued looks the rest of the court was giving the both of you. “Please, continue to enjoy the feast, my lords and ladies. Tonight, I wish to express to my lady wife how elated I am at our union.” You heard Prince Aegon whistle at Aemond’s antics, and you buried your face in Aemond’s chest, unable to face the crowd as he carried you out the throne room. When the both of you reached your bedchambers, Aemond set you down gently, and smiled, “Was that too much?” 

“Very much so,” you admitted, feeling your face burn. Aemond found it rather adorable that you were so embarrassed. “I do not think I can face anybody in court for the next few weeks.” Aemond laughed, sweeping you into an embrace and kissing you on the forehead, “Worry not, my love. If things go as planned…I can assure you you will not be leaving our bedchambers for a moon’s turn.” 

You gaped, a little awestruck at your husband’s newfound boldness. He seemed to have transformed greatly from the shy, yet affectionate prince you had been spending your time with, into a confident, and evidently starved man, who was scanning you with such a greedy gleam in his lone violet eye that made a strange heat flare in your abdomen. His hands on your waist, he leaned in to whisper to you, “I trust you know what that entails?” You nodded slightly, not trusting yourself to speak at the moment, gazing up at his eye, which was clouded over in reverence and lust. “Good,” he whispered, “Now, would you allow your husband to unlace your bodice and help you out of your gown?” You nodded meekly. He smiled tenderly at you, turning you around and getting to work undoing your laces. You gasped when you felt your husband plant a kiss onto your exposed neck. “Are you nervous, my love?” Aemond asked sweetly, finally loosening the last laces of your dress.

“Yes…” you murmured softly, feeling anxiety begin to build in you as Aemond began to tug off your gown. “I’ve…I’ve never…” 

Aemond turned you around to face him again, your bodice hanging around your waist by now, and his breathing was growing more erratic by the second. But his expression was loving as he said, “I know, my love. I know. I don’t want you to worry, all you need to do is lay there and allow me to give you your pleasure. Is that alright?” “But I wish to please you too,” you protested softly. Aemond took your hand in his and planted a kiss to the back of it, his gaze never leaving yours. “To be able to bring you pleasure is the greatest satisfaction I could ever want for, my love. Now…” He finally undresses you, making quick work of your smallclothes. 

The first sight of your bare form has him questioning if he had truly died and went to heaven. You were the most marvellous sight he had ever laid eyes upon: your skin smooth and glowing in the firelight, your gait shy, legs pressed together to hide the growing arousal he had no doubt was pooling between your thighs. “Oh, my love…” 

“Why? Is there something wrong?” you ask worriedly. Aemond shook his head, cupping your cheeks softly. “On the contrary, nothing has felt more right.” He directed you to sit on the bed, and you watched, riveted as he began to undress himself, his eye never leaving your face. He wanted to savour every single expression that graced your features tonight. When he had stripped himself off his doublet and smallclothes, you couldn’t help but admire the sight before you. He was majestic, his frame lithe and muscled. You let out a small gasp when you saw some scars littering his abdomen, tracing your fingers over them. His affectionate gaze followed you as you did. “How did you get these?” you asked quietly, looking up at your husband again. He smiled, threading a hand through your hair, “Just some scars from training at arms, my love. I wasn’t quite as proficient with the sword when I was younger, you know.” You continued tracing over them gently, almost reverently. “Do you…think they’re ugly?” Aemond asked quietly. You shook your head fervently, which made Aemond feel relieved. “Of course not, my love! Like my father likes to say, all scars tell of a story of failure, and how you managed to overcome them.” Aemond looked bemused, “Well, your father was very wise.” Aemond gently pushed your hands away, hands moving to his belt. “But enough of this talk, I think I’m neglecting the main purpose of the night: which is to lavish upon my beautiful wife all the attention she rightfully deserves.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but you soon felt your mouth running dry as Aemond undid his belt and shucked off his pants. You had seen an illustration of a man’s…cock several times, when you had the misfortune of stumbling upon a copy of ‘A Caution for Young Girls’ and several rather raunchy books by Grand Maester Elysar. But that all seemed like child’s play compared to the man before you. “Aemond, I…” you shut your mouth for fear of blurting out something that was very indecent, although from your state of undress, decency was the furthest thing from your mind now. 

Aemond chuckled, bringing a hand to stroke your cheek gently. “Are you impressed by what you see, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked teasingly. “Nuha jorrāelagon?” you wrinkled your forehead in a most adorable display. “It means my love in High Valyrian. I think that’s more unique than simply calling you my love in the Common Tongue. You deserve nothing but the most special things, after all. Which is why-” Your eyes widened as Aemond got onto his knees before you, grinning up at you mischievously. “I plan to make this the most memorable wedding night in history.” 

“I-” you were cut off as Aemond began lavishing kisses on your breasts and chest, fingers nimbly flicking at your sensitive nipples. “Oh, Aemond!” you cried out, as his mouth replaced his fingers, gripping tightly onto his shoulders. “Mmm, and here I thought I would never hear a sweeter sound from your lips,” Aemond hummed gently against your skin, the sensation nearly driving you crazy. “Keep them coming, ñuha jorrāelagon.” 

You gasped as you felt Aemond gently prying your legs apart, exposing your soaked cunny to him. Within a heartbeat, his fingers grazed over your cunt, making you cry out and arch your back. “My love-” You were interrupted by the sensation of Aemond inserting a finger inside of you, while his hot mouth was still sucking at your erect nipples. Your husband was a fan of interrupting you, it seems. “How does that feel, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked in a sultry tone. “Good?” 

“Yes, so good. So, so good,” you moaned out, nails digging into Aemond’s shoulder as he added a second finger and began pumping a little faster, encouraged by how wet your cunt was becoming for him. He grinned devilishly, moving his mouth from your nipples to your neck. You let out another cry as you felt Aemond’s teeth sink into the soft flesh just above your collarbone, before immediately soothing it over with his tongue. Aemond let out a groan as he felt you becoming even wetter as he left love bites across your neck, he didn’t even know it was possible for him to get even more turned on by how aroused you were getting from the pain. His cock was growing even more painfully hard by the second, and he gritted his teeth, trying to will himself to calm down. ‘This night is about her pleasure,’ he told himself sternly, ‘You can have your pleasure later, when she is satisfied first.’ 

You let out a whine as you felt Aemond remove his fingers, but a moan soon replaced whatever complaints you had when Aemond latched his tongue onto your cunt, licking and slurping at your juices like a starved man. Digging your fingers into Aemond’s shoulder, you felt an unfamiliar sensation begin building in your stomach as Aemond’s tongue began flicking and sucking at your clit, making you squirm. Aemond kept one firm hand on your thigh, while the other wandered up to play with your breasts. “Aemond…Aemond!” you cried out as you felt your “peak” (Coryanne Wylde had described that in A Caution For Young Girls) hit you, making your orgasm gush out all over Aemond’s tongue. Aemond groaned, feeling his cock become painfully hard as he watched you climax right before him. He continued devouring your cunt, determined to make you orgasm again. The taste of you was just too sweet that he had to have you come undone on his tongue again. You moaned and cried out, writhing as you felt the sensation building up in your stomach again. Your second peak came much sooner this time, in part due to how sensitive your clit was. Aemond dutifully lapped up every last drop of your juices, sucking at your clit before withdrawing and wiping his mouth with a grin. You looked completely blissed out, if not a bit lost as to what had happened. “Are you alright, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked softly, hands caressing your thighs. You nodded shyly, and Aemond smirked. “Good.” 

You yelped as Aemond pushed you onto the bed, your back hitting the sheets with a soft thump. The cool silk sheets were a welcome contrast to your burning skin, as Aemond grabbed your legs and hooked them around his waist. He leaned down to capture your lips with his, his kiss nothing like the chaste ones you had shared before. This kiss was messy, filled with lustful need, as he eagerly delved into your mouth with his tongue, fighting the urge to smirk when he heard you moan helplessly into his mouth at the pleasure. And it was about to get better for you, and for him as well. 

You were breathing heavily as Aemond finally broke your intense kiss, looking up at your husband like he was a god. You noticed a hungry gleam in his eye as he leaned in to whisper, “This might hurt a bit, ñuha jorrāelagon. But I swear, the pleasure will overtake the pain soon enough. Do you trust me?” 

You gulped, but you tried to put on a brave face as you replied,  “I trust you, my love..” Aemond bent down to kiss you sweetly. “Thank you, ñuha jorrāelagon. Just hold on to me, alright?” 

Your brows furrowed, but you squeezed your eyes shut in pain at the next moment, when you felt your husband’s cock slip between your folds and inside you. You cried out, the discomfort jarring you as he gradually sunk into you, letting you get used to his huge size. Aemond stroked your cheek softly, kissing away the tears that had formed at your eyes. “It’s alright, ñuha jorrāelagon. It will get better, I promise.” And he was right, you felt the pain ebb away slowly, replaced by a yearning for Aemond to move inside of you. “Aemond,” you whispered, “Husband. Could you move, please?” 

Aemond smiled tenderly at you. “With pleasure, ābrazȳrys.” He slowly rolled his hips, and you felt your eyes flutter shut with pleasure. “Oh…feels so good, my love.” Aemond chuckled softly, moving in and out of you in a leisurely pace, enjoying the sight before him. “I’m glad to hear that, ñuha jorrāelagon. I’m going to pick up the pace now, is that alright?” You nodded, desperate to relieve the ache you felt. Aemond kissed you on the nose, before speeding up, causing your eyes to roll back. “Seven hells,” Aemond swore, panting a little, “You’re so tight for me. So perfect.” You moaned at his words, feeling a hot wave of shame, but also arousal wash over you. His words were so filthy…but you wanted to hear more of it. Aemond moved even faster, his own pleasure overtaking whatever rational thought he had about taking it slow. You whimpered when you felt him hit a spongy spot, tightening your grip on his shoulder at how deep he was going. 

“I love you so much, you know,” Aemond panted out, his silver hair now in disarray and his forehead beaded with sweat as he thrusted inside you. “More than anything in the world. I never thought it was possible for me to love someone to this extent, but you…with you, everything feels possible. I would move mountains for you, ñuha jorrāelagon.” You bit your lip, touched by his words. Moving your hand to the strap of his eyepatch, you murmured, “May I?” Aemond swallowed, feeling reluctant for you to see his actual face, to see the ugly scar that tormented him constantly. But you seemed so genuine, so earnest, that he could only nod stiffly. You pulled it off, setting the eyepatch aside, and ran your finger gently on his scar. You beheld the sight of his sapphire eye without much fear, or disgust, both reactions that Aemond had been fearing, and he let out a sigh of relief, leaning down to kiss you again, before trailing his lips onto your neck and collarbone. 

“You are truly wondrous, ñuha jorrāelagon, do you know that? You make me want to learn every little thing about you…all your likes, your dislikes, what makes you beam and what makes you tick…I just want to never stop learning about you.” Aemond whispered against your skin. “No other books in the world, both known and unknown, could measure up to the enchanting goddess that is you, ñuha jorrāelagon. I love you, so much.” 

You moaned softly, moving to tug at Aemond’s hair as he left more love bites on your neck. “I love you too, Aemond. From now, till the end of our days. You are the sun in my universe. No, more than that. You are my moon, my light, my reason to keep breathing. You are everything to me.” 

Aemond groaned softly, feeling his own release getting closer as he listened to your declaration of love. He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, “Thank you, ñuha jorrāelagon. Thank you for not turning away from me. For loving me. For not seeing me as lesser than.” You tilted your head upwards to give him a tender smooch on the lips. “You never need to thank me for loving you, Aemond. You are deserving of it. And I promise to show you all the love that you deserve throughout our marriage.” And that was the final straw for Aemond. With a throaty moan, he spilled inside of you, feeling your walls clench around him as he did. You followed shortly after, reaching your third climax of the night as you arched your back in pleasure. Aemond continued thrusting inside you, letting you ride out your peak, as he kissed you fervently. You tangled your hands in his hair, moaning into his mouth. After a while, Aemond finally ceased moving in you, pulling out of you. He broke your kiss and pecked you on the forehead, “Wait here, ñuha jorrāelagon.” You watched, confused, as Aemond disappeared, returning with a wet cloth. He sat next to you, cleaning up the mess of fluids on your thighs, where you noticed a small spot of blood on the sheets. ‘My maidenhood,’ you thought, chewing on your bottom lip. ‘It seems I am well and truly a woman now.’ You watched with wide eyes as Aemond kissed up your thighs softly, before pushing his fingers inside your cunny again, causing you to gasp out. “It’s to make sure my seed isn’t wasted, ñuha jorrāelagon,” Aemond explained, stroking your skin softly. “I hope that it’ll get you with child a little sooner.” 

You felt your cheeks flush as he planted a final kiss over your cunt, smirking as he murmured, “I would like nothing more than to see your belly swell with my child, ñuha jorrāelagon. I am sure that you would be a wonderful mother.” 

He then disposed of the cloth, settling next to you on the bed comfortably and taking you into his embrace. “Did I hurt you anywhere, ñuha jorrāelagon?” Aemond asked you with a concerned look on his face. You smiled reassuringly, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me anywhere.” “I’m glad,” he smiled, before his expression turned coy. “And was everything to your satisfaction, ñuha jorrāelagon?” You laughed, “It was everything the romance novels promised.” That answer pleased him, and he swept you into another kiss, his thumb swiping across your cheekbones. 

‘And so, Prince Aemond of House Targaryen took Lady Y/N of House Y/H/N to bride in 126 AC, and all who witnessed their nuptials agreed that the match was well made, indeed. Prince Aemond and Lady Y/N’s union would prove to be both happy and fruitful, bringing forth five children: three sons and two daughters.’ 

-from the chronicles of Fire and Blood, on the reign of Viserys the Peaceful, written by Archmaester Gyldayn.

translations: ābrazȳrys - wife, ñuha jorrāelagon - my love 

Aemond General Taglist: @aiyaiy @sylas-the-grim​ 

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If there was one word that was the antithesis of Rhaenyra Targaryen right now, it would be the word calm. 

For two days now, you had watched your girlfriend rush about like a madman caught up in a whirlwind. Unsure of what to do, you usually just sat on the couch, concernedly sipping a glass of water as you watched your girlfriend work herself to death. 

Today was no different, and the stress had only multiplied by a dozen. Since the Targaryen Christmas Gala was this weekend, Rhaenyra was rushing around, calling up caterers, decorators, florists, to make sure that the weekend would go as perfectly as possible. 

“Ugh, those fucking dim-witted imbeciles!” Rhaenyra raged, slamming her phone down on the couch where you were sitting. You looked up from your work, concern furrowed in your brow, as Rhaenyra sank into the couch next to you and began ranting. “Can you believe that the caterers had to cancel at the last minute? Said something about having to attend to the President’s dinner party for all his cabinet at the fucking Red Keep!” Rhaenyra was positively vibrating with fury, and if her anger could sprout wings, she would have flown away by now, probably to kick the head of the caterers’ ass. 

“Nyra,” you tried to calm her, but she continued on with her tirade. “And the florists! No one can do their jobs right.” rhaenyra buried her face in a throw cushion, making a distressed noise. “I knew I should’ve accepted Alicent’s offer of connecting me to the florists she previously used at the other Targaryen events. But I’m just-” 

“I know,” you said, hands going to rub Rhaenyra’s shoulders soothingly. Rhaenyra’s dislike for her stepmother was legendary among your social circles, and with how bullheaded Rhaenyra was, you can’t say you were surprised when she vehemently turned down her stepmother’s offers of connecting Rhaenyra to her contacts, preferring to do it on her own. 

Rhaenyra’s anger soon turned into a crack in her voice, as she felt small tears slipping down her cheeks, seeping into the velvet of the throw cushion she was using to hide her face. She didn’t want you to see her like this. But the stress was really getting to her, and she soon broke, like a dam that had caved at long last. 

Mortification and sympathy immediately filled you when you heard your girlfriend’s strangled sob, as you moved to take her into your arms. “I just-” Rhaenyra choked out, “I wanted to do this on my own. To prove that I could. This is the first event that Father asked me to plan on my own as future CEO to Targaryen Corporations, and I’ve-” Rhaenyra sniffled noisily. The snot from her tears was getting into the blouse you were wearing, but you could care less, only continuing to stroke Rhaenyra’s silver-blonde locks, trying to mollify her. “I’ve screwed it up completely. I’m such a fuckup.” 

“You’re not a fuckup, Nyra,” you said softly, heart breaking as you watched her shoulders shake with sobs. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N,” Rhaenyra spat out, though the venom in her voice was weakened by how much she was crying. 

“I haven’t finished yet,” your voice was chiding, but gently so. “A fuckup, absolutely not. Bullheaded? Stubborn? A little idiotic? Definitely so.” A choked laugh bubbled up in the midst of Rhaenyra’s tears, and you smiled at that, satisfied to have elicited a response apart from cursing or tears. 

“What do I do, my love?” Rhaenyra sniffled, her tone stained with despair. “How am I supposed to face Father tomorrow and tell him that the caterers and florists have both cancelled? I barely can keep the rest of the event’s logistics from spiralling out of control too.” Rhaenyra barked out a jagged laugh. “Seven Hells, the only thing I actually managed to get done was secure the venue and the musicians. He’s going to be so disappointed in me, isn’t he?” You hummed, softly curling a strand of Rhaenyra’s hair around your index finger. “You know, love, I did offer my help a few weeks ago. The offer still stands.” 

An exasperated sigh burst from Rhaenyra’s lips. “And I said no. I don’t need help…” Rhaenyra’s voice slowly trailed off, as the absurdity of words began to sink in. “Oh,” she spoke, voice sounding defeated.“I really am an idiot, aren’t I?’ 

“Oh, darling,” you spoke affectionately. “You are, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start amending that.” You kissed her on the forehead tenderly, wiping her tears away with your thumb. “Let me help you. Please, Nyra. You can’t keep insisting on doing everything yourself, you know.” Your voice was gentle, yet firm. “You need to let go of your pride. Capeesh?” 

Rhaenyra grumbled a little, but she melted under the warmth of your embrace. “Fine. Capeesh. But maybe hold back on bruising my ego, why don’t you?” You chuckled, kissing her on the lips. “How else am I supposed to get you to learn, dearest?” 

In all honesty, managing an event was definitely way harder than you imagined it was when you had offered your help. While the lack of a budget certainly helped, there were a lot of things the both of you had to consider. Such as the table seating arrangements, the order of the performances (who knew there would be so much fuss over whether the ballet-contemporary dance trope should come before or after the string quartet performance?), the approval of the various menus for guests with special dietary restrictions and the like. 

Rich people truly never ceased to amaze you with their elaborate whims and fancies. 

Even with your help, Rhaenyra still occasionally flew into anxious fits while the both of you were sorting out the details for the event, and you had to stop all work to comfort her when that happened. You also noticed her bitten off fingernails, an old childhood habit Rhaenyra was fond of doing. When confronted, Rhaenyra only sheepishly admitted that the stress often blinded her from doing anything else. 

While it made your blood boil that Rhaenyra was neglecting her own well-being for the sake of the godsforsaken gala, you also felt an uncomfortable, crawling sensation under your skin, and that little voice in your head, telling you that you were to blame for this whole mess. 

‘Why weren’t you more insistent on helping her out?’ it whispered, taunting. ‘How could you let your girlfriend stress herself to this point until she would mistreat herself?’ 

Still, you managed to wave the thoughts aside, wanting to just focus on Rhaenyra now. Gradually, as the plans for the gala became more and more concrete, Rhaenyra became noticeably more relaxed, the perpetual frown that was present on her lips slowly dissolving into a less tense expression. Although Rhaenyra still bristled at the thought of bringing in additional help, she reluctantly acquiesced when you mentioned asking Alicent, who was more experienced in hosting these events, to take a look at the event timeline. It was no easy feat for a Targaryen to set aside their pride, but you were very glad that Rhaenyra could. 

As the night of the Targaryen Christmas Gala rolled around, you were in Rhaenyra’s dressing room, lips pursed in concentration as you fastened the delicate clasp of Rhaenyra’s diamond festoon necklace around her neck. 

“Hey,” Rhaenyra said softly, looking at you through the mirror. “Mmm?” you hummed inquisitively, smiling widely as you finally managed to get the clasp buckled together. She grabbed your hands as she turned around, leaning her forehead on yours. “Thank you.” Love and gratitude laced her voice. You squeezed her hands in yours, leaning in to kiss your girlfriend on the lips. “It’ll be alright,” Rhaenyra felt a warm feeling seep into her muscles, extinguishing the tension she had been feeling all evening. “Don’t worry too much, hmm? It’s Christmas after all. Tis’ the season to be jolly, you know.” A light giggle burst from Rhaenyra’s lips, before she leaned in for another kiss. “I’ll do my best, love.” 

Hours had stretched on, and it seemed the gala was going swimmingly. Though Rhaenyra had roped you into attending the gala with her - her reasons being that you were her beloved girlfriend and that she wanted every single one of the Targaryen family’s business associates, as well as all her family to see that you were the woman she loved - she had been noticeably absent for some time now. 

Anxious footsteps thumped across the floor of the ballroom, as you politely manoeuvred past the gala’s attendees, trying to find the familiar figure clad in red. 

When you neared one of the endless amount of balconies in this massive building, you breathed out a sigh of relief when you caught a glimpse of white-blonde hair. Standing out at the terrace, surrounded by the night and glowing under the shimmer of a thousand stars, Rhaenyra leaned on the balcony balustrade, her back to the door, as you admired her from behind. 

“You look like a goddess from this view you know,” Rhaenyra smiled as she felt your arms encircle her waist, planting a soft kiss on her neck. “Oh no, you found me,” her tone was filled with teasing. She relaxed into your arms, seeking your warmth. “I found you,” Rhaenyra’s breathing grew heavier as you continued peppering kisses on her neck. “Why are you out here all by yourself, gorgeous? The party’s going well, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it is,” Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head up to give you more access to her neck. “It just…still makes me a bit disappointed in myself, you know? That I couldn’t take charge of a simple event like this.” 

“You’re belittling yourself again, my darling,” you murmured, lips grazing along the sensitive curve of her shoulder. “This event is far from simple, and you know that. Besides, it’s alright to accept the help of others when you’re overwhelmed.” 

Rhaenyra closed her eyes, her hair falling into her face slightly as she cast her gaze downwards. “And I know. It’s just still hard to accept.” You purse your lips, wanting to comfort her somehow…

Rhaenyra felt her breath hitch as your fingers slowly made their way up her thighs, all while your lips still remained on her neck. “Where are those fingers going, hmm?” she murmured. 

“I just want to make you feel better, my dear.” You trailed your kisses to the top of her spine. Do I have your permission, love?” 

“Yes,” Rhaenyra breathed out, gripping the balcony railing tighter. “Fuck yes.” A wicked grin graced your face as she said that, as your fingers skillfully slid aside her panties, grazing them gently against Rhaenyra’s sweet spot. Her answering moan was a cry from the angels themselves. 

“Wet already, hmm?” You murmured, the pad of your finger collecting the wetness of her slit. Rhaenyra groaned, “That’s usually my line.” You smirked in response, fingers playing with her folds with deliberation. “I know you’re always on top, darling. But isn’t it nice to have me take charge for a change?” 

“Definitely no-” Rhaenyra had to bite her tongue as you plunged the first finger inside of her, pleasure coursing through her veins. “Oh, darling,” she moaned your name huskily as you added a second finger, beginning to move faster. A strangled cry rose from her throat as your thumb went to rub at her clit, her skin feeling feverish as she felt you tug off her furred shawl so that you could have access to her bare back. Your soft lips followed the curve of her spine, while your other hand went to trace patterns on her heated skin. 

“Dominance is a good look on me, isn’t it?” You teased, adding a third finger, curling it in a come hither motion. Rhaenyra felt like she was about to faint, as a familiar budding sensation in her abdomen began to bloom. “I should do it more often, love. Who knew you could be a pliant mess under all that tough exterior?” 

“Oh, you are so going to regret this later,” Rhaenyra growled, head already filled with the ideas she would do to punish you later when she got home. In response, you only rubbed her clit harder, making her let out a cry of needy pleasure. 

“Nah,” you smiled, not fazed in the least. “I don’t think I will, dear.” The speed of your fingers quickened, and Rhaenyra let out a final wanton moan as she came, legs turning weak. You had to grip on tightly to her waist with your other hand that wasn’t buried to the knuckle in her so that her knees wouldn’t give in then and there. 

“You okay, darling?” you asked teasingly, as your fingers gradually slowed their pace and you planted a kiss onto the crook of her shoulder. Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes, though her breathing was still unsteady after the orgasm she had. “Don’t act so smug just because you’re in charge for once. You’re going to get it when we get home, darling.” 

“I’m looking forward to it,” you continued challenging her with that teasing tone of yours, retracting your hand from under Rhaenyra’s skirts. “Do me a favour before that, and taste yourself, darling?” Rhaenyra looked a bit miffed at that, though in good spirit. Still, she gave in with a dramatic sigh, as you lifted your fingers to her lips, making her suck her essence off of them. A light moan burst from your lips at the sight, and you leaned in to kiss her, threading your fingers in her white-blonde locks to pull her closer to you. When she abruptly broke away, you frowned, thinking that you had done something wrong, but she only pointed up and said with a sort of childlike delight, “Look, it’s snowing, darling.” 

Caught off guard, you directed your gaze upwards, noting with wonder the white furls currently dancing in the sky. Rhaenyra laughed as a snowflake got caught in your eyelash and you let out a small yelp, flicking it off with her fingers. “Merry Christmas, darling,” Rhaenyra murmured, capturing your lips with hers again, her hand cupping your cheek. You smiled back, gazing adoringly into her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Nyra.”

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The sound of knocking at your front door was not one you’ve been expecting this evening. You had plans to celebrate Christmas Eve and Christmas on your own, since your family was travelling this holiday season. Who could it be?

Your questions were answered when you saw a dishevelled looking Aegon at the door, a sheepish expression on his weary face, a night bag in his hands. “I…I didn’t know where else to go…”

Looking at him from head to toe, taking in his pitiful state, you sighed, opening the door a bit wider to let your best friend in. “Come on in.” 

You ventured to the kitchen to make Aegon a mug of tea after locking the door, just in case he was drunk again. Walking over to the couch where Aegon had made himself comfortable on, you handed him the mug. “Here.”

Aegon took it with a grateful, watery smile. “Thanks. You’re the best.” You tried not to let the words get to you. To him, it had always never meant nothing, a natural reflex in his charismatic nature, but to you, it always meant everything. It was a stupid thing, having a crush on your gorgeous, smoking hot best friend, who was the dictionary definition of the word ‘playboy’. 

Just then, you heard a sniffle, and you realised with concern that his eyes were red. “Hey, everything okay?” You asked softly. 

Aegon sniffled again, looking like a lost child as he hunched over his mug of tea. “Jenna broke up with me.” 

Jenna had been Aegon’s latest in a series of girlfriends, and the longest lasting one at that. They had been dating for eight months now, and Aegon had really cared for her, much to your heartache. But you accepted it, as you always have, burying your feelings under the sand yet again. 

“I’m really sorry, pal,” you moved into give Aegon a hug, which he melted into. Soon, you could hear sobs eliciting from his throat, as he lamented, “Why does everyone I love always end up leaving me? Am I that loathsome?” 

No; you’re not, you wanted to tell him. You wanted him to know that for the longest time, you’ve loved him, much more than as a friend, and that you would never leave him, no matter what. But you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with him, knowing that he would never feel the same. And even if he did, he could never give you the stable, long term relationship that you wanted. 

So you only patted his back softly, and comforted him as best as you could. “You’re not loathsome, Aegon. You’re my best friend.” And I love you. “I would always be by your side, no matter what.” 

“You really mean it?” Your heart broke at Aegon’s small voice, and you pulled him into a tighter embrace. “Of course. Best friends forever, remember?” 

There was a silence, and you thought Aegon hadn’t heard you, but he only let out a noisy sniffle and said lowly, “Yeah…best friends forever.” 

The two of you held each other for a while, hearing the snow fall outside your window as you comforted the love of your life over his heartbreak, while your heart was breaking on the inside. 

Because your apartment was small, it only had one bedroom, so Aegon had to crash with you in your bed. It was your usual arrangement, but tonight, Aegon just couldn’t sleep. 

Shifting uncomfortably on the left side of the bed, Aegon turned to face you, wanting to talk to you, to do anything, but you had your back turned to him. Unbeknownst to your best friend, you were fighting your own demons, trying to console yourself for being upset over this. It was his fifth girlfriend already, and you had had to comfort him over so many things ever since you were kids, so why did this bother you so much? 

Because you’re hopelessly in love with him, that’s what. 

You let out a quiet huff of frustration, but the sudden weight of a warm hand across your waist made you tense up. Aegon had always been feely in his sleep, but this was not helping any of your thoughts right now. 

“Aegon…?” You asked in a quiet voice, careful not to wake him if he was asleep. But then, you felt a hardness press between your asscheeks, and you stiffened. He was most definitely not asleep. 

“Aegon-“ “Shh,” Aegon’s low rumble that always made your knees weak sliced through the air. You could feel his breath on your neck, as he nestled his head on your shoulder. “I just need to feel…something. Please.” 

You swallowed, feeling humiliation creep up your cheeks, staining it red. “Are you serious?” Your voice was not quite your own, scratchy and fragile. You were tearing up. “Aegon, for years, I’ve stood by, being your best friend, caring for you, wanting you, loving you, never wanting for anything more because I fucking loved you, but this is how you treat me? As some rebound fuck to get over your ex?” Your voice was laced with hurt venom. “I can’t believe you.” 

Aegon felt every single muscle in his body freeze as your words registered in his mind. You loved him. For so many years now. 

Tears were streaming down your face by now, and you wanted to push Aegon away, but you were just so tired. So upset. You flinched when he wrapped his arm around your waist tighter. “Hey,” he said softly into your ear, making goosebumps rise up on your flesh. “Look at me.”

When you refused to turn around, Aegon sighed. He deserved as much, he supposed. “Hey, listen,” Aegon began tentatively. “I know I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole right now, and I probably will earn your eternal enmity after this, but…I love you.” 

Shocked, you turned your head back slightly to face him, breath hitching as you felt his hot breath on your bare skin. “…you’re joking.” 

Aegon smiled sadly, shaking his head. “I’ve never been more serious in my life. I know I’m the biggest fucking idiot ever for this, but I always buried my feelings and kept it a secret, because…” he hesitated. “Because I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “If only I knew you had always felt this way, I would’ve said something. Why do I always ruin everything?” 

A heavy silence enveloped the room, and Aegon felt his heart break as he heard you sniffle. You were crying because of him. Gods, he was just the biggest douche out there, wasn’t he? 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, stroking your hair gently, not knowing what else to do to comfort you. “I’m so sorry, love.” 

Finally, you turned around, your cheeks stained with tears that were visible even in the dark. Aegon swallowed, feeling awful. He had probably just ruined your Christmas and your year. “Y/N-“ 

He was cut off by the press of your lips on his. Your lips were warm against him, soft and inviting and tasting of gingerbread, and Aegon, despite his initial shock, found himself returning the kiss, letting out a few grunts as his hands found your waist again. The both of you continued making out for a while, while Aegon continued wiping the tears from your eyes. He wanted you so badly. Gods, he always wanted you. 

His hands slowly wandered down to your breasts, groping them, squeezing them gently, all while he continued kissing you. You moaned into his mouth as he did, making the bulge in his pants grow undeniably harder. Your hand went down to stoke his cock over his sweatpants, and he hissed into your mouth, making you smile slightly against his lips. 

Gradually, your pants fell off, and Aegon’s did too, and you gasped as you felt him stretching out your pussy. You had wanted this for so long, and now you were finally experiencing it. It was still quite unbelievable. 

Aegon groaned as he bottomed out in you, his grip on your waist tightening. You made to move your hips, but Aegon stilled your movements, whispering huskily into your ear. “Let’s just stay like this. I want to wake up like this, with you around me.” 

A small shiver went through you at those words, and you nodded mutely, letting out a soft yawn. Aegon chuckled, brushing your hair away from your forehead and kissing you on the lips. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Aegon. And Merry Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas, love.”

Aegon General Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @hc-geralt-23 @saay-karani​ @justrybca  

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It was set to be a lonely Christmas for you. 

But honestly? You had no one to blame but yourself. You were the one who had decided to migrate to another continent entirely for university, whilst most of your friends had stayed in King’s Landing, or other parts of Westeros, including your boyfriend, Jace Velaryon. 

But Braavos University was undoubtedly the best university in the known world to pursue a degree in economics, and when you had gotten the acceptance email, Jace had urged you to go, telling you that you would be an idiot if you passed up on the chance. 

Braavos was a wonderful place: a melting pot of different cultures, interesting architectural structures, along with an intriguing history. You loved studying and living here, but at times, especially now, during the festive season, you especially missed home. You missed seeing Jace’s wonderful, handsome, smiling face, missed his kisses, his hugs, his warmth, his everything. 

In a video call with your boyfriend a few days ago, you had expressed how much you’d missed him, and he had given you a sad smile in return. 

“I miss you too, honey,” Jace said earnestly, covering his headphones’ speakers again when a loud noise erupted from behind him. You winced at the feedback from the mic. “Cregan, hey bud, mind keeping it down a little?” Jace called out. “I’m video calling my girlfriend here.” 

“Sorry dude!” A manly voice that was most definitely not Cregan called back, and you had to stifle a laugh at Jace’s knowing, disgusted look. “Ugh, these animals, I swear,” Jace joked, turning his attention back to you. His expression softened. “Hey honey, I know it’s hard on you. I wish there was something I can do to make you feel better.” 

You smiled, trying to cheer up a bit for his sake. “It’s alright, really. I’m doing fine here, I’m just being a bit mopey because I miss you and stuff.” 

“Aww,” Jace blew you a kiss through the computer screen. “I miss you too, honey. Uni life just isn’t the same without you. But you are still coming back for summer break, right?” 

You nodded, blowing back a kiss to him. “Yeah, of course I am. I can’t wait-“ A crash and a gruff laugh sounded from behind Jace, and Jace’s eyes widened as he turned back to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on. “Jace, buddy, I might need some help here!” A voice that was definitely Cregan groaned out. 

“I’m sorry babe, I gotta go,” Jace said apologetically. “Trust those guys to get wild when I’m trying to call my girlfriend.” 

“No, it’s fine,” you tried to stifle a giggle. “You’re like their mom, you know.” “Am not,” Jace pouted, before blowing you a kiss. “I’ll video call you on Christmas, alright? I love you, baby.” 

“Love you too, Jacey.” You blew him a kiss back before your computer screen went dark, and you sighed, slumping back in your seat. Video calling him had somehow made you miss him even more. 

But alas, such was life. When the morning sunlight streamed through your dorm windows on Christmas Day, you had already carefully planned out your day. 

“Okay, so,” you tapped your pencil on your paper, filled with a list of the things you wanted to do. First, I go across the campus to get those delicious pretzels from Lancelot’s Bakery, then I head to the grocery shop to get myself some chicken to cook chicken Alfredo pasta for lunch. Then-“ 

A knock at your dorm room caused you to look up from your list, puzzled. Your dorm mates had all left for their own homes for the holidays, so who could that be? You set down your pencil, moving to open the door. “Yes-?” Your jaw dropped when you saw who it was standing outside the door. 

“Jace!” You let out a cry of delight at your boyfriend’s warm, smiling face. The smile that you had missed so much. 

“Hey, baby-“ Jace barely had time to finish his sentence before you launched yourself at him, jumping into his arms and kissing him hungrily. Jace nearly staggered under your weight, hands going to stabilise you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He savoured the taste of your lips, feeling you melt against him and nearly tearing up when you realised that he was real. 

Oh, how he missed you. How he missed this. 

Jace quickly brought you into your dorm room, kicking the door shut behind him as he didn’t break the kiss. He set you down on the edge of the desk that you were writing on, tongue tangling eagerly with yours. “Mmm, I missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips, fumbling for the zipper of the shorts that you were wearing. “I missed your lips, your scent, your pussy…” 

You let out a laugh, breaking the kiss to rest your forehead against his. “Someone’s eager, huh?” 

“Don’t act like you aren’t,” Jace chided, chuckling as he pulled your shorts off. “Nearly six months without you has been absolute torture. I had to stroke my own dick almost every night for the first few months you know.” A pleasant shiver shot through you at the imagery: Jace stroking himself to the thought of you every day, groaning as he spilled himself in his hand. 

“Sounds like I should make it up to you then,” you said slyly, pushing yourself off the desk and getting on your knees. Jace’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, radiant, rosy, glowing, down on your knees in front of him. Where you belong. 

You made fast work of his jeans, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans and boxers down in one go. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight of his length, long and leaking with precum. You ran your fingers along the vein in his cock, teasing him, and Jace groaned, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Baby…don’t be a tease,” Jace’s voice was low, pleading. You simply laughed, looking cheeky as you debated on whether you should give him what he wanted. 

Jace nearly saw stars when your hot mouth got to work on his dick, licking the underside of it, letting the precum collect on your tongue. His grip in your hair tightened. “Love…” 

Slowly, you began to take his cock into your mouth. The loud, scandalous, squelching noise of you taking his dick inch by inch reverberated throughout your empty dorm room, making Jace grow even harder, if that was even possible. He had dreamt of this moment so many times for the last few months…

He made a low, strangled noise in his throat as you hollowed out your cheeks to accommodate even more of him, trying not to gag in the meantime. His fingers tangled even deeply into your hair, “That’s it, that’s fucking it. Take all of me in,” Jace encouraged you. “You can do it. You’re a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

Your answering nod caused your head to bob on his dick a little, and Jace moaned at the sight. He could just die happy now. 

“Can I fuck your face, sweetheart?” Jace asked tenderly, but you knew that his tone of voice, while friendly, left no room for negotiation. So you only looked up at him with those adorable doe eyes, and nodded slightly. Jace smirked, pulling out a bit before thrusting himself back into your throat. 

He continued to fuck your face, going slow and gentle at first, then his thrusts grew more and more erratic as he felt your hot little mouth envelop his dick just so perfectly. The sound of your fingers playing with your pussy as he face-fucked you however, drew him back to attention again. 

“Hey,” he slapped your cheek lightly, getting your attention as you looked up at him with wide eyes, having been caught. “You’re not allowed to touch that pussy as I face fuck you.” Your expression of dismay almost made him feel bad. 

Almost. 

“No touching yourself, sweetheart. Or else I won’t let you cum later, you understand?” Your eyes teared up a little, and Jace watched you with a smirk as your expression grew desperate, but you could simply nod obediently, knowing that Jace would make good on that promise. 

“Good girl,” he soothed you, before thrusting into your mouth even harder, faster. 

Your moans were muffled by his cock, but Jace let his unfiltered noises echo throughout the room, his curses and groans and praises only making you wetter. “Yeah, that’s it, baby…taking this dick like a pro, huh? What a dirty little slut you are.” 

You could barely speak with his dick in your mouth, and Jace could feel himself getting closer as he watched your tits bounce in that skimpy top you had on. He couldn’t wait to have his hands and mouth all over them, kissing and biting and sucking on your hardened buds. The thought alone was enough to send him over the edge, and when you began playing with his balls, he completely lost it. 

Letting out a rough moan, he spilled himself in you, his hot load shooting down your throat. The vibrations of your muffled moans around his cock made it feel even better. 

He pulled out, watching your dazed, blissed out face. Gently tilting your chin up to face him, he ordered you, “Swallow all that for me, sweetheart.” 

Obligingly, you did so, and Jace let out a sigh of pleasure. “Good girl. Come here.” He helped you up from your knees, gently hoisting you up onto the desk again while rubbing your red knees with his thumbs like a perfect gentleman. Then, his hands found his way to your cheek again, and his lips to yours. He could taste himself on your tongue, and he groaned into your mouth, hand going to palm at your tits through the fabric of your top. 

“Best Christmas present I could ask for,” he murmured, sweetly pecking you on the lips. “Which reminds me,” you brought up, voice a bit hoarse after that intense face-fucking. “How’d you get here?” 

“I flew out, duh.” You smacked Jace’s shoulder at that non-serious response. “Ow. I flew out all the way for you, and you abuse me like this?” Jace rubbed his hot shoulder, looking like a kicked puppy. “Hurts me right in my feelings, baby.” 

“I’m serious,” you pressed, and Jace laughed, kissing your pouting lips. “I don’t know, you just looked so sad over the video call…I just had to come and see you.” 

“And your family was cool with it?” Jace laughed again, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “Mom’s always chill about it, don’t worry. And you know my little brothers; they always act like they’re happy to be rid of me.” 

“But for now,” Jace’s lips met yours again, searing, wanting. “Can we stop talking about how I got here and focus on worshipping you instead?” You giggled, tightening your arms around his neck. “Well, in that case-“ 

A clatter outside your door made you and Jace freeze in your tracks, wide eyes going to the door. “What was that-“ 

“My suitcase!” Jace exclaimed, a panicked look on his face as someone outside bellowed. “Who left their fucking suitcase in the middle of the hall?” 

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at the sight of abject horror on Jace’s face as he rushed to the door to apologise to whatever poor soul had tripped over his suitcase. 

Best Christmas you could ever ask for.

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