#hotd fandom

As a secondborn son, he had only hoped to one day wear the conqueror’s upon his brow– but it was a fantasy. With his half-sister being named heir by the decaying king and his older brother having his own heir, Aemond knew that for him to be king meant the death of his kin. He had no plan to kill for the crown. But with each life taken, he inched closer to the iron throne that he could already feel the cool metal against his leather-clad body. 

As his brother abdicated his claim, his half-sister fell. Her faction quickly surrendered and pledged their fealty to him, Aemond One-eye, the reason why the dance of the dragons began. He relished seeing the once fierce, albeit idiotic, supporters of his half-sister kneel before him, declaring him their king. He had taken the most powerful seat in the realm with barely any bloodshed, a feat he thought rather impossible. 

Aemond the Absolute, he wishes to be called. A king who all yields to– that all agreed was suitable for the throne. He felt rather benevolent as he oversaw his once traitorous kin’s surrender. The blood of the dragon was scarce now; he’d rather not be the only dragon left in this world, and so, he was kind. He had let Rhaenyra’s remaining kin keep Dragonstone, leaving his nephews and niece their ancestral home. A reminder of what they had lost— and of what he had allowed them to keep.

He, on the other hand, had the Red Keep. The vast castle all to himself as his brother fled, and his sister was taken by her madness. Many times did the thought of offering his eldest nephew a seat in his council cross his mind– a risky, irrational thought, he believed, but a thought brought out by loneliness. To invite Jacaerys into his council means to invite a possible rebellion once more– he’d rather keep him in the desolate caves of Dragonstone. 

Aemond needed a wife. A companion. A person who could provide him with heirs and aid him in rebuilding his family. It was an easy enough task if it weren’t for his particularities. He was the blood of the dragon; anything less was insulting. But the blood of Old Valyria was scarce now; the only one truly left who had enough fire in their veins was you. The bastard daughter of the false queen. Your father may be strong, but your mother was Rhaenyra, you were dragon enough, Aemond supposed. 

However, a hurdle stood in his way– the same hurdle he faced even in childhood: Jacaerys, your twin brother. King Aemond must admit, he was ever so fond of you in your younger years. You were kind– sweet even. You always shared your cake. You always apologized in your brother’s wake. You always made Aemond feel sympathy for a bastard. 

He could recall your childhood so vividly that it brought a dull ache in his chest as he would constantly vie for your attention, but it was always placed on your twin. Your bond with Jacaerys was formed in the womb, and when you two came into the world, your mother was quick to form another bond by binding you to one another. 

Aemond had long known this, of course. But never was his younger self deterred, as he was your constant companion when your twin temporarily placed his favor upon Aegon. 

“I do not like when he and Luc are with Aegon– they become cruel,” You grumbled to Aemond as he sat with you in the gardens, a plate of cake between you, crumbs on both your lips. “Earlier this morning, he would not stop pulling at my hair!” You added, and Aemond hummed as he stared upon your crumpled face, your dark brows in a furrow, and your braided hair fraying, and bore the truth of your words. 

“Perhaps you shall tell your mother,” Aemond suggested as he reached forward to wipe away the icing on your plump and rosy cheek. “If he is cruel now, what more when you two are married?” He added and saw as clear fear flashed in your mud colored eyes. “And you’ve seen how my brother is– Jacaerys seems to worship the ground Aegon walks on. It would not take long before he becomes like him,” Aemond further stated, sewing the seeds of doubt so delicately that even he almost believed it was concern.

“He would not dare!” You exclaimed in fear, looking upon Aemond, who held a stoic expression. “A prince should never pull upon a lady's hair– especially not a princess,” He said, reaching forward to pull at the ribbon that held your braids, letting your hair cascade down your back and running his finger through the silky strands. “A husband must be gentle, niece,” He hummed. Aemond remembered your innocent eyes then. You were nine, and he was only a couple of years your senior, but he was already clever enough to reach for what he wanted— you. 

He was persistent– more persistent than he would care to admit. But he could not explain why, but he wanted you, even if you were a bastard. It did not matter much to him that you were a Strong, but when it came to your brothers, he was rather merciless. He tried to be subtle with his fondness for you, but subtlety becomes rather obvious when he truly abhorred your brothers. 

“I do not understand,” Aemond remembered as you cried to him under the scarlet leaves of the Godswood tree, the silver light of the moon setting you aglow, making your tears iridescent like pearls streaming down your face. You were six and ten– your family had finally returned after your informal banishment to Dragonstone, a trial as to who shall be heir to Driftmark, the reason why you had found your way back to him. 

“He had been bound to me since we were born– he was supposed to offer his fealty– his loyalty– but the moment we returned here, he desecrated it to lie with… with a common whore!” You wailed, and Aemond bit back his smile. Do not mistake his intentions. He did not revel in your sadness; he reveled in the fact that it was Jacaerys who had brought it. 

“I had tried to warn you ever since we were children, niece.” He hummed as he took his place next to you, resting his back upon the greyish trunk of the ancient tree. “You should have been rid of him years before.” Aemond added as he let your shoulders brush with each sob you made. “I cannot be rid of him– he… he is my other half– my twin.” Aemond hummed as you tried to explain the obvious. He badly wanted to say that just because you two had shared a womb did not mean you were destined to share a fate.

“Yet he chooses to lie with a whore. He had you by his side, yet he still willingly chose another. Do not be a fool for him, ñuha ōños.” Aemond murmured as he retrieved his handkerchief to wipe away your tears. He could never explain why he was so kind and gentle towards you. Perhaps because you were the same to him. He remembered how his heart skipped a beat as he first saw you again. You found him in the tiltyard, a wide smile on your lips as he met your eyes. A confession that you had long missed his company on your lips. 

“But I love him,” You confessed, uncaring that you were bold in your admittance. Ameond had always been your shoulder to cry on whenever you found trouble and strife with your twin. You did not know why you confided in your uncle, who had much animosity for your brothers, but there you were, crying in his arms. “But does he love you enough?” Aemond hummed as he relished the warmth he felt as he had you in his hold. 

“He is half of me– if he does not love me most, then who else will?” You remembered whispering in dread. “How are you so certain that it is love?” Aemond questioned lowly, tucking a stray strand of your hair. “Perhaps you are under the wrong impression… just because he is your twin and he had been betrothed to you does not mean you ought to love him– it does not mean he loves you.” Aemond was a cruel man. He knew then that there was no line he would not cross to take what he wished. 

Aemond wanted to sigh as you looked upon him with your gleaming brown eyes, your lips pink and swollen. “Such ungrateful men are not worthy of a princess… You wait for him– ready to offer your all, yet he…” Aemond pursed his lips in feigned thought, relishing how you clung to his arm and words. “...I cannot even bear to utter it, ñuha ōños. It could amount to treason,” He murmured lowly, his face drawing closer to yours as your eyelids flutter, and he could practically see how your mind started to give in to his words. 

He claimed your lips that night. Your lips were so soft and sweet that Aemond felt drunk. He cupped your face, your cheeks wet with tears yet warm against his cold, calloused touch. You whimpered against his mouth, his thin lips punishing as he deepened your kiss– his tongue shameless as it brushed against yours. 

Aemond grunted almost in pain as you suddenly backed away. His hazy eyes boring into your widened ones, regret etched plainly on your comely face. “I… this was a mistake,” Aemond raged every time he recalled your words and how you hastily ran from him after he had taken your first kiss and how he had given you his. He had never seen you since, and it took two years to pass before he could place his lilac eye upon you once more. And it was all because he was expected to attend your wedding ceremonies. 

He was king. He could have taken all that he wished without apology– he could have taken you as his bride instead. However, his council had advised him that to do such a thing would invite another rebellion. You had been bound to Jacaerys since you were in the womb– even the kingdom believed that you two were meant for one another. 

For him to break your betrothal and covet his nephew’s betrothed– his niece– could jeopardize his station. He had sacrificed much to be king, and as fond as he was of you and how he wished nothing more for you to be his queen, it was not enough for Aemond to relinquish the throne that he had killed for. For a moment, he tried to come to terms with the thought that it was only your lips he could claim, but he was quick to be rid of such thoughts as he remembered that he was king. 

He was king, and he had a right to all in his realm– he had the right of the first night. Primae Noctis, he remembered the maester uttering to his nephew, the copper prince, unmoving as he was told that his king wished to lie with his wife. That Aemond wished to take her maidenhead, her virtue that she had guarded for her husband. “He cannot– she is my wife,” Jacaerys gritted as he pushed away a maester to meet his uncle’s eye. 

“And I am king. I have the right, nephew.” Aemond smirked as his eye flickered towards you, surrounded by your guests who congratulated you on your marriage, completely clueless that you would be meeting him in your marital chambers instead of your husband. 

Aemond sighed as he sensed his nephew readying to draw out his sword, and he quickly waved for his guards to restrain the groom before he could cause a scene. “It is only for one night, nephew. You have the rest of your life to mount your wife– do not be so easily threatened.” Aemond sighed, amusement evident in his eye that would often flicker to your frame across the room. “Besides, it is only fair, do you not think?” Aemond hummed as he poured himself more wine, his blood intoxicated with adrenaline at the thought of taking you that night– an action that he had fantasized many years before. 

He glanced at the redened, confused expression of his nephew. “Your first time was wasted on some whore– surely you cannot think that you shall be the first to lie with her when she cannot say the same about you,” Aemond hummed. “She is my wife, mine!” Jacerys roared once more, and Aemond rolled his eye. “I am bedding her, not wedding.” He sighed as he was growing ever more impatient.

“But if you do not like the thought of your wife lying with her king, just say the word, and we can quickly annul your matrimony. You have every right to do so… you had not even lain with each other,” He continued to tease, hoping that his nephew would agree with his proposition. A rather idiotic idea when one thinks of it– but Aemond hoped that his nephew was indeed idiotic enough to agree. 

He looked upon Jacaerys’s seething face, his jaw in a solid grit as his plain eyes glanced towards you, who were completely clueless about what was to come. “One night– as king, you only have one night with my wife.” Jacaerys gritted as he accepted defeat. He and his twin were lucky enough to escape war unscathed– and the reason for that was only because Aemond had ordered his faction to never lay a hand upon you lest they wish to be his dragon’s meal. 

The then prince’s protection was only extended towards you, but your love for your twin had included him, claiming that if Jacaerys was harmed, gods forbid slain, you would soon follow him. He had been with you in life, so be it with death as well. 

Aemond hummed triumphantly, a devious smirk on his thin lips. “It would seem I stand here corrected, you do have your wits about you, nephew– perhaps I shall think twice next time I doubt your sensibilities,” Aemond smiled, the scene unnerving for the prince as a true smile of happines over came their king’s face, and it was all because he would have you for the night. 

“Now, if you would excuse me– I believe there is a bedding ceremony I must attend to,” Aemond said wickedly as he sauntered out of the great hall and made his way to your marital chambers. 

It was near the hour of the ghost when you had noticed that you had not seen your husband in the past half-hour. You travelled your eyes upon the room, his absence noted, and you blushed at the thought that he perhaps had retired in your chambers, waiting for you. Waiting to seal your marriage with the sacred act between husband and wife.

You drew in a deep breath as you slipped out of the great hall yourself, your hands cold with anticipation. When you reached the doors of your marital chambers, you steadied yourself for what was to come. For years, Jacaerys had failed to keep secret his illicit affairs– he failed to resist the temptation of bedding whores. 

For years, you blamed yourself– you believed he only did such actions because you refused him your bed without the certainty of marriage. But now, you were bound to him in the eyes of gods and men– perhaps his past behavior shall finally cease, you hoped. You were his wife– you had given him your heart and soul years before, and now, he shall as well claim your body. Surely a whore would no longer suffice for him after you had given him your all. 

When you pushed open the door of your chambers, it was aglow with the fire of the hearth, and you felt your heartbeat in the tip of your ears as you cautiously walked in. Your eyes were on the bed as you entered, and the pristine white sheets lay untouched. You cast your eyes then upon the seating area, expecting your husband to be waiting for you, but all you saw was your king seated near the fire with a chalice in his hands. 

“Aem– Your majesty… I–” You stuttered, confused. You hastily curtsied before him with your head bowed low, and when you straightened your stance, he was quick to rise and make his way before you. “What are you doing here, my king?” You asked, breathless, your gaze glancing towards the ajar door behind you, but Aemond was quick to reach forward and rest his palm against the solid wood, closing the door and trapping you between it and him. 

“It is just us, nuha oños, no need for formalities,” he murmured lowly, his face incredibly close to you that you could smell the wine on his lips. “Where… where is my husband?” You asked, a slight tremble in your voice as his lilac eye bore into yours. Aemond only hummed, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ears instead of answering your question. 

He felt you back yourself further against the door, a sigh leaving his lips. “Who am I?” He instead questioned, watching as confusion overcame your eyes before weariness took over them once more. “A simple question, niece, who am I?” He asked once more. 

“You’re… you’re Aemond.” You said innocently, and he drew in a deep breath as he loved hearing his name uttered by your lips. “Mm… to you, I am your Aemond… but to the others? Who am I to them?” 

“King, you are their king,” You answered and held your breath as he leaned closer. “Indeed, I am.” Aemond smiled and backed away only an inch as he noticed how you held your breath. He’d rather not have you faint before he could claim you. 

“And I must admit, as king, there are… privileges and pleasures that are bestowed upon me,” He clarified, but that did nothing to aid the questioning look etched into your face. “Have you perhaps heard the term primae noctis?” Aemond watched as you froze as he uttered the words, your enchanting eyes wide in realization. “The right of first night…” You whispered in shock, Aemond smirking as his fingers reached to twirl your hair that cascaded over your shoulder. “So knowledgeable… the maesters had to explain it to your husband thrice… you would have made the most capable queen,” Aemond could not help but murmur. 

“Now, do I still need to explain my presence, princess?” He hummed as he boldly placed a soft kiss against your temple, hearing as you took in a sharp breath as his lips met your skin. “But… but I am married,” He heard you whimper, and he retreated back just to see the turmoil in your eyes. You were in doubt. Good, he thought. If you were in doubt, then it meant a part of you wished for it as much as he. 

“I am quite aware,” He said bitterly. “But that is no hindrance,” He added, and bereft you of another moment to think before capturing your lips. His arm circled your waist while his hand rested between the curve of your neck and shoulder, steadying you and leaving no room for you to pull away. He felt your plush lips stagger, just as they did during your first kiss, but it was quick to dissolve as he felt you circled your arms around his neck. 

Aemond smirked against your lips as he felt you pull him closer. My, if this was how you acted after your marriage, he would have happily walked you down the aisle if it meant you clinging to him. You gasped for breath when Ameond finally parted your lips. You whimpered once more as you felt his punishing lips against your neck, his hand trailing down and grasping your tit with such a gentle force that you could not help but moan. 

“How… how are you so cavalier in taking my virtue that I had saved for my… my husband?” You asked breathlessly, your hand grasping the nape of Aemond’s neck as he peppered kisses on your skin. “Because you were meant to be mine,” Aemond said simply as he reached down to trail his hand against your leg, inching higher until he heard another gasp leave your lips as he cupped your womanhood. 

“Besides, I do not like leaving things unfinished… I have your first kiss, it is only right I take your first time as well.” Aemond breathed against your lips before capturing them once more. A wanton sound coming from you echoed through the room as you felt his tongue invade you and as his fingers drew circles on your cunt against your small clothes. 

You shivered as his lips trailed down to your bosom, his eye looking up as he forcefully yanked down the neckline of your wedding gown, the sound of it ripping music to his ears; he had half the mind to throw it into the fire later on. He did not wish to be reminded of the dress you wore as you bound yourself to another. 

“You are all mine tonight, my light…” Aemond moaned as he captured the taut bud of your mound, the taste of salt and sweetness dancing on his tongue. “...perhaps even after,” He hummed and nipped the bud of your breast as a strangled noise left your lips, and you clung to him even further. You reached to cup his face, guiding him to meet your lips again. You’ve never kissed Jacaerys, not even during your ceremonies– each intimate touch and action you had done was with Aemond. 

Your mind was in turmoil with each move of your lips, with each touch you exchanged. Jacaerys was supposed to be your other half– he was the one meant for you. Yet, here you were, melting into the hands of the king, your Aemond. You shuddered at the thought, and as you felt his finger enter your cunt. “Tell me you’re mine,” Aemond breathed out, voice holding a tone of desperation. You looked upon him with wide eyes. “Please, ñuha ōños… just for tonight, tell me you’re mine,” Aemond begged, uncaring that a king pleaded to a married woman as such.

You drew in a deep breath, wanting to deny him, but as you saw the sincerity in his eye, his eye that had always looked at you as if you were the only person in the world, you obliged. “I’m yours, Aemond… all yours,” You said softly, and you would think his pleading gaze would soften, but you felt a trickle of fear as his lilac eye darkened with sheer possessiveness that it made a chill run down your spine. 

You felt dazed as he moved you from the door and tossed you into the bed, wasting no time to mount you and keep your body trapped against his. “He does not deserve you… you have always been meant for me,” Aemond growled as he ripped apart your dress, leaving you in your shift. You whimpered and reached for the buttons of his tunic, unable to bear the wetness that gathered between your legs. 

Aemond shivered as you successfully removed his tunic, your soft hands roaming his chest, letting your skin finally touch his. He could have come undone at how your hands tightened on his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he ripped your shift away. Aemond marveled at your naked frame, biting back his smirk as you squirmed beneath him, your arms instinctively moving to cover yourself, but in one swift motion, he had both of your wrists in his grasp, hindering you. 

“You are a goddess among men,” He said lowly, sincerity dripping in his voice and clear in his eyes. Aemond dipped down to capture your lips once more, letting your hands free to circle his frame. You closed your eyes tightly and dug your nails into his back as his fingers roamed your body, one of them grasping your tit and pinching the bud while the other rested steadily on the curve of your waist. 

“Aemond,” You whimpered as you parted your lips, “I…” you trailed, unable to utter what you desperately needed. He looked deeply into your eyes, his lilac orb imploring you to use your words– to tell him what you wished for. “Come now, my light… we only have tonight, no need to be so coy,” He murmured and placed a chaste kiss between the valley of your breasts before meeting your eye once more. 

“I… I want…” You say breathlessly, squirming in unbearable need beneath him. “Yes? What do you want? You shall have everything you want just as long as you say the word,” Aemond said lowly, determined for you to word out what you wished. “You! I… I want you!” You finally relented, and you held your breath as he looked at you with a blank expression– your cheeks heating in embarrassment, but it was quick to fade when a genuine smile overcame his lips. The same carefree smile he had when you two were children, long before his eye was taken from him. 

You licked your lips as you felt your heart skip a beat with each moment he smiled upon you and how his lips inched closer. “Finally, you admitted it,” he said in satisfaction before kissing you until you saw stars. 

You were dazed as you felt his lips against yours once more, your confession somehow making the kiss you two shared taste sweeter. You sighed as his kisses went downwards, from your neck, leaving his mark. To your mounds, placing a wet kiss on each. But as he reached further down your navel, you gasped and tried to push him away, but his strong arms pinned you down. “I thought you had wanted me, my light?” he then hummed as he looked up, his breath fanning your womanhood, and you squirmed further. “I… I do, but–” 

“Then you shall have me… starting with my lips,” he smirked, and your eyes rolled back as you feel his lips meet your cunny. “A–Aemond,” You moaned as you fisted his hair, your breath shallow as his punishing lips were relentless with their kisses upon your womanhood. Aemond smirked against your cunt, intoxicated with the taste of you. 

He felt your thighs circle his head, the plush flesh soft against his cheeks. “Oh gods,” You cried as you felt his tongue upon your entrance, “Aemond, please… I–” You said incoherently, a sheen of sweat overcoming your body as you writhed against his angular face. He held your thighs tightly, his grip intent to leave his mark. “What do you want, my light?” He hummed, voice muffled as he quickly returned his lips against your cunt, his tongue teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“I don’t know– just– please,” You cried, and Aemond focused all of his attention on the pearl of your cunt, his lips sucking upon it, his tongue darting out to lick it, and letting out a low reverberating moan that made you cry out in utter pleasure as you came undone. 

You panted as your back arched, Aemond moving once more to meet your eye and witness the state you were in. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair clung to your glistening skin, and your eyes were still shut as you came down from your high. 

Aemond took the moment to be rid of his breeches, and the moment he was, your eyes finally peeled open. You swallowed thickly as you saw his hardened length, the tip of it pink– almost red in anticipation. You drew in a breath as your gaze flickered to his eye, a teasing glint upon the lilac orbs. “Could… could I try something?” You suddenly asked, watching as Aemond’s brow raised in question as you sat up. He was kneeling upon the bed, and you copied his position. 

“And what would that be?” he hummed as you inched closer to him. You could not word it out, a bit ashamed, and so you instead lowered yourself until you were faced with his manhood. Aemond watched in great anticipation as you looked up at him with hesitancy, your lips already parted. 

“Hinder me if… if I do it incorrectly,” you whispered as you took him in your hands before closing your lips around the tip of his length. Aemond let out a deep groan, in disbelief of your actions. You were hesitant with each movement, and Aemond relished it, knowing that he would be the first to have you in such a way.

“Fuck,” He moaned as you took him deeper in your mouth, your teeth gently grazing his skin, and he felt as if he were in heaven. He did enjoy it when his pleasure had a touch of pain. As you heard him utter the words, you quickly retreated, fearing you had done something wrong. But he was quick to shake his head and reassure you that you were doing splendidly. You nodded and continued, blushing each time a grunt or moan left his lips. 

When you had taken every inch of him, and you felt his tip hit the back of your throat, you held your breath as he pulled at the roots of your hair, curses leaving his lips before he abruptly pulled out his length. You stared at him through glassy eyes, a trickle of fear within you once again, but he quickly shook his head again and placed kisses upon your cheeks as he muttered on how perfect you were, on how you were a divine gift from the gods. You blushed at each of his compliments, unaccustomed to it, as your husband was never one to give such praises. 

“Will it hurt?” You asked through wide eyes as you felt Aemond run the tip of his length along your glistening folds. “Yes, but only for a moment,” He hummed and placed a kiss upon your brow, the action so intimate that you could not help but believe for a moment, he was your husband and not simply your king who decided to invoke his right of the first night. 

“Tell me the moment… the moment the pain becomes unbearable,” Aemond muttered through gritted teeth as he positioned himself to take you. He watched as you bit your lip, your hands grasping at his arms tightly. Aemond bit his own lip as he felt your plush walls around his length, your eyes pooling with tears as your whimpers reached his ears. “You’re doing so well, my light… so perfect you are,” Aemond moaned as his hips moved lightly against yours. 

He relished how you clenched even further whenever a deserved compliment towards you left his lips, your body writhing slowly against his, your peaked mounds brushing against his chest. “Such a beauty you are, my princess,” Aemond continued to praise and bit back his smirk as you let out a moan, the pain of your maidenhead being taken finally subsiding. “More, Aemond…please,” You sighed as you reached forward to cup his cheek, your thumb delicately tracing his scar. 

Your king hummed, obliging your request as he finally sheathed himself fully in your cunny, your back arching as he did. He felt your fingers inching closer to the leather strap of his eye patch. “Can I–” you cut yourself off, fearing you shall offend him, but Aemond gave you a curt nod as the tip of his length brushed against a spot in you that made you let out a cry of pleasure. 

You removed the cover of his eye hesitantly, your breath catching in your throat as you saw a glistening sapphire in place of his stolen eye. “I did it for you,” Aemond breathed out, his thrust slow yet deep. You moaned as he reached between the two of you and drew circles upon your cunny, his words starting to grow incoherent. 

“You’ve always loved wearing blue– a strong blue… a sapphire is the closest color that could compare.” Aemond sighed as you pulled him closer to you, your bodies flushed, and felt each movement and breath the two of you made. 

“Faster, Aemond… please, I– I need more,” You cried, unable to fully understand his gesture. Aemond let out a breath of a laugh, placing a kiss on your neck before obliging once more, his head spinning as you wrapped your legs around him. You held your breath as you felt the blinding pleasure of your peak again, your eyes shut close as Aemond buried himself deep in your cunt, your walls clenching around him tightly as your nails dragged along his back. 

“Did you see stars, my light?” Aemond gritted as he lay still atop you, blowing softly upon your face as your eyes were still closed, and Aemond feared that you were not breathing properly, or if at all. He bit his lip as he saw your eyes slowly peel open, the heaviness as you reached forward to kiss his lips. Aemond hummed in satisfaction– the same satisfaction he felt as the conqueror’s crown was placed upon his brow–perhaps even better. 

You parted your lips to meet Aemond’s eye, startled to see the same lust still evident, and only did you notice that his length was still inside you, hard and pulsating. “What… did I not–” Aemond shushed you and placed a kiss on your lips. “You were perfect, ñuha ōños,” he reassured. “But why…” You trailed, feeling another surge of need overcome you as you felt the slight movement of his hips. 

Aemond smiled wickedly. “I have you for only the night, princess… we are not leaving this bed until morning comes. Perhaps not even then.” 

The city of Oldtown felt the heat of the summer’s day, the waves met the port with delicate kisses, the wind blew with a soft, gentle breeze, and even the sun seemed to glitter in the sky above the beacon of House Hightower. The Princess Y/n walked the aged stone passageways on her way back from the Citadel, after once again being denied entrance by the Maesters for her lack of cock. But she had not returned to the keep empty-handed, as she’d bought a few ripe peaches to enjoy when she returned to her chambers. Her little shoes made barely a sound on the ancient stone, her green dress shifting and swishing around her developed body, which drew many a man’s eye, since the gown was more akin to one for a young girl and not the curves of a woman flowered. Her hair, silver-blonde and bright, was intricately braided down her back, with ivy woven from fabric and thread.

But it was the strings of the lute that caught her ears and attention, and she soon found their source. As her twin brother Daeron sat perched on the stairwell's windowsill. His feet up on the stone, the window open to allow in the breeze. Dressed in his fine green velvet, with his silver blonde hair half up and half left to hang down to his shoulders. His lute in hand as he stummed and sang,

“I loved a maid as fair as summer… with sunlight in her hair… I loved a maid as red as autumn… with sunset in her hair… I loved a maid as white as winter… with moonglow in her hair.-” But he stopped short when he spotted her, “Hello, little sister,”

She playfully rolled her eyes, “Little seems unneeded, we were born but moments apart.”

“And yet I emerged first, little sister.”

“Did you speak with the council of Grandmaesters?” Y/n changed the topic,

“I did…”

“And their answer?”

“Is the same as it always is, no maiden may study at the libraries of the Ciadel,” he chuckled, “Princess or no.”

“Tis a foolish rule…” she grumbled,

“And yet still a rule,” he chuckled,

“You are of no help! brother,” she sighed, continuing her way up the stairwell,

“Big brother,” he teased,

“Don’t make me toss a peach at your head,” She called back,

“Awww… I want a peach, please? Pllleeeeeaaaaassseeeee?”

She rolled her eyes and picked up one of the peaches from her basket and tossed it down to him,

“Hey! Don’t bruise my peach!” He complained,

“I don’t hear a thank you?”

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“You’re welcome, Daeron,” she answered,

“Ohh! Uncle Gwayne needs to see you!”

“Why?”

“How should I know?”

She scoffed, and she went on her way.

Y/n opened the windows of her chambers, allowing the wind to billow her curtains. She sat herself on her bed, feasting on peaches and reading her books on history and geography, learning all the lords and keeps of Westeros. When the doors of her chamber opened, her uncle Ser Gwayne Hightower, dressed in his usual green doublet and tunic, his light orange hair catching the sunlight. He had the Grandmaster of Physiology and a scribe boy with him.

“Ohh, Good afternoon, Uncle.” She smiled,

“Good Afternoon, my Sweet Peach,” he smiled as he came over, fixing a stray lock of her silver blonde hair behind her ear, his hand lingering to trail down and wipe some of the peach's juice from her jaw, “How are you today, Y/n?”

“Well, as ever,” she answered, “Daeron said you needed to see me.”

“Your brother does so love to tell you everything, doesn’t he?”

“He did not tell me why,” she said, her eyes flicking to the Maester and scribe who had accompanied him.

Gwayne nodded, “I am sure you can guess.”

“You’d be surprised, but I cannot.”

“You are a woman flowered, Y/n,” he said, “It is high time we began to search the land for a husband worthy of you.”

“I always assumed Mother would wed me to Daeron? Or Aemond, as she did Aegon and Haelena.”

“That was strategic, you and your brother’s hands are too valuable to be linked together, there are too many great houses your mother needs to show favour to.”

“So I’ll be handed off to some… Baratheon? Lannister? Or Tully boy?”

“Perhaps,” he nodded, “But that is not our concern for now, that is your mother’s matter.”

“Then why are you here, Uncle?”

“We need… to ensure your mother has the most accurate information about your body and its changes into womanhood. We need to take measurements and ensure everything is as it should be.”

“Oh… I see,” she nodded,

“Now, the Maester can do these checks; he is a grandmaster with health and physiology as his main link… or I can do them, whichever will make you the more comfortable, ”

“You, please, Uncle.”

“Of course,” he smiled, “You may go, Maester.”

The Maester nodded and headed out silently,

“Must he stay?” She asked, glancing to the scribe boy, a young lad from the libraries barley older than her,

“Not if you don’t want him to, My Sweet Peach.” Gwayne cooed,

“I would prefer not.”

“Of course,” He nodded, “You may go, boy. Leave your parchments.”

The boy nodded, leaving the parchments on Y/n’s table and scampering away.

Gwayne smiled smugly and picked up her books, setting them to the side, and collecting the parchment, quill and ink. “You are not frightened of me? Are you My Sweet Peach? You trust me?”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Good, now lie down.” He said, “Get your pillows so you're nice and comfortable.”

She nodded and adjusted her pillows to lie atop her sheets. She lay down soon after with the pillows under her waist and neck to support her body, looking up to the intricately painted ceiling of her chamber.

“Perfect, such a good girl,” he cooed, “I’ll be as gentle as I can be, if you want me to stop, just say the word. Alright, Y/n,”

“Yes, Uncle,” she agreed,

Gwayne began slowly, at first fixing her hair, ensuring no strand lay on her tender skin. He ran his fingers softly over her jaw, tilting her head from side to side. “So very beautiful, a Targaryen Princess of true, undeniable magnificence.”

She giggled and blushed hard at his words, but kept her lips closed.

He slid his hands down the curve of her neck, pushing her head back to bare her throat, “Swan like,” He cooed, as his hands moved lower and lower, but froze up as his fingers brushed her collar bones. He, instead of heading down, moved across her shoulders and worked down her arms, taking a soft grip of her hands and kissing them. “Perfect,” he cooed,

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“Shhh… be still and be silent, my sweet peach,” he told her, as he laid her hands back down on the bed. He returned his hands to her shoulders, gliding this time down her collar bones and over her chest. He inhaled a deep breath through his teeth as his palms felt the soft movement of her breasts. The gown was thin between their skin, and since it was still a gown designed and fitted for a younger lady, there was no boning, structure, and only a thin cotton underdress rather than a tight supportive corset. Which left her flesh to move freely at the pressure of his hands, he had no shame in massaging her breasts, cupping one in each hand and squeezing them with gentle attention. His gaze was glued to the bounce and jiggle of her breasts, and he licked his lips with dark desire as he felt the sensation begin to cause her nipples to harden from their insane sensitivity, beginning to pucker her gown’s fabric and press against his hands.

The movement and sensation made her giggle, the soft amount of pleasure from the rough fabric of her dress moving against her now perked nipples caused her to feel small sparks in her lower stomach, her thighs mindlessly clamping together with desire she hadn’t known before.

“Be still,” he reminds her, his hands sliding down past her breasts, over her stomach and down her thighs, taking a soft grip on her knees and pushing them apart, so her knees lay flat against the bed, her legs completely open.

“Yes, uncle,” she nodded,

“Good… such a good girl… such a sweet peach,” he cooed as his hands slid down her legs, capturing her ankles and pressing tender kisses to her feet as he slipped off her shoes, and peeled down her stockings to reveal her bare feet and legs, “Try not to fidget now,”

“I will try.”

He scoffed smugly before his hands slid back up her legs, taking his time to run his fingers over her inner thighs, pushing up her gown inch by inch. Until he reached the laces at her waist, where he stopped and looped his fingers around them tightly, looking into her eyes with a deep satisfaction, before he untied the laces.

Her gown fell loose and tumbled to the bed around her, still on her arms, but the rest of her open and exposed, the thin excuse for a girl's underdress all that concealed her. A thin white cotton that reached only her knees and cut away at the chest to allow her breasts to grow in. But she was fully grown now, and her large breasts were fully open to the air, her skin glistening in the sunlight from her windows, her nipples perked up and sensitive with need for attention. Her breaths made her chest heave, even if they were only light and tender breaths; the rushing of her heart caused them to tremble with her every heartbeat.

Gwayne forced himself to be silent, even if all the blood in his mind rushed south to swell his desperate cock, his gaze moved slowly over her, but her breasts took all his attention and desire. He licked his tongue over his bottom lip before he captured it between his teeth. His hands moved without thought as he slipped his hands over the soft cotton that still concealed her. Without warning, he ripped it off her, breaking the threads that had sewn it together and leaving it as shredded fabric on the floor.

The sudden jolt and rip shocked Y/n, but she giggled, feeling the breeze of the day touch her every inch. She was utterly exposed now, with the soft curve of her stomach and hips untouched and unhandled, and her cunt fully revealed, with her small soft patch of silver blonde hair gracing her soft mound, her lips puckered and swollen with blood and excitement, her clit beginning to glisten, and her hole yet untouched by man or maiden. Touched only by the gods who had blessed her with her blood and the promise, then, after, of her fertility.

“Ughh-” Gwayne moaned, unable to resist the urge. His eyes were fully on her cunt, ensuring he knew every curve and swerve. He kept his hands settled high on her thighs, ensuring she would not tremble or close her legs and hide this view from him. He briefly squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a prayer to all seven gods to forgive him for how he looked upon his niece and the unholy feelings it was bringing up in him.

“Aren’t you meant to take notes, Uncle Gwanye? To send to my mother?” she innocently asked,

“Yes- Yes… thank you for reminding me, Y/n,” he smiled, taking the chance for a moment of distraction. He took the parchment and quill, making notes on the page even if none of this would ever reach Y/nnt’s eyes. He noted about the shape of her throat, of the arc of her hips, of the thickness of her thighs, of the swell of her breasts and the utter masterpiece that was her cunt. All notes he himself will use later, when alone in his dark chambers. Once he had noted enough about her bare body, his hands trembled with the need to touch her. He slid his hands over her ankles, hoisting them up and kissing her feet and ankles like she was a goddess.

The kisses tickled her, causing her wide smile and her feet to mindlessly kick.

But he grabbed her wrists hard, like his hands were tight cuffs to force her stillness. He was slow and sensual as he kissed down her legs, keeping her ankles on his shoulders as he slid deeper and deeper between her legs, pressing kisses as he went. He stopped and shuddered when he was within gasping reach of her cunt, “Ugh- My sweet… sweet peach…” He groaned, “You will… make some lord very… very happy,” he cursed that it wouldn’t be him, and forced himself to skip her cunt, kissing instead over her hips and stomach, wrapping her legs around his waist as he crawled up her body, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat as he kissed up her sternum, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt her breasts against his face, but he stayed strong and forced himself to keep going, kissing up her throat until he reached her face.

“Hello, Uncle,” she blushed,

“Hello, Y/n,” he cooed back,

“Am I doing alright?”

“You… are doing… so perfectly,” he groaned, fighting his urge to press his throbbing cock against her cunt, “Just… just a little more, is that slight?”

“Mhm,”

“Good girl,” he cooed. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and began to move back down her body, but this time he didn’t restrain himself; he took her left breast in his hand and began to squeeze it hard, while his lips kissed a circle around her right nipple.

Y/n giggled and began to squirm her hips, but Gwayne pinned her hips down with his own, knowing she’d feel his hard on through his britches. She silenced herself, keeping to soft little whines.

He soon captured her nipple between his lips, pinching softly with his teeth as he began to suckle on her, licking on the very tip of her nipple with fast and feverish movements, while his hand pinched her other nipple as he groped and squeezed,

“Uncle Gwayne!” she whimpered,

“Shhhh… shhh…” He groaned, forcing his mouth away, “I am just checking, how easy it will be… for your future babes… to latch on your… soft and… succulent breasts,” he moaned, cupping the left nipple and being just as attentive to it.

She moaned, and her hips squirmed under him with pleasure,

Which made him cut himself off with a groan of need, but he forced himself down, grabbing her thighs and wrapping them around his neck, his hands holding her hips as firmly against the bedsheets as he could manage, “And now… I… I am checking how you will taste… for whatever lucky lord will get to be your husband, and how… ughh- easy it will be for you to birth your sweet babes.” He groaned,

“Yes, Uncle Gwayne,” she nodded,

“Be a good girl now… a good… good sweet peach,” He moaned before finally closing the gap he had long lusted over. He locked his lips around her cunt, licking, nibbling and suckling as he let out all his desires. He gripped her hard as she began to squirm with pleasure, her soft moans echoing off the high walls, but he was too lost in lust to even care for a moment about anything beyond her softness. He suckled hard on her clit and licked up the squirt that came flooding out of her, his tongue sliding down to slip inside her as deep as his tongue would go, moving back and forth with intense thrusts. “Ummm, you taste so good… my sweet peach, so sweet and succulent.”

“Ughhhh! Ughhhhhhhh! Uuuughh uuuuuuughh!” She moaned, her hips bucking up towards his lips,

“Ummm… good girl…” he moaned back, returning his lips to her clit and bringing one hand down to begin to test her cunt, sliding the tip of his index finger inside her just a tiny bit up to his first knuckle given how tight her virgin cunt was, “Ughhh fuck- your still so tight… still so… innocent and virtuous.” but that wouldn’t last for long, he sucked hard and licked on her clit as much as he could pleasusing her, and with every lick she allowed his finger another centimiter slowly but surely sliding deeper and deeper until his whole finger was inside up to his last knuckle, he pulled his finger all the wat out and then dove back inside again, over and over loosening her more until he could slip in his middle finger beside it.

“Aaaahhh! Uncle!” She screamed in pleasure,

“Ummm, just a little more.” He groaned, speaking more to himself than to her, since his throbbing cock was becoming too hard to ignore and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer himself, so he thrusted his third finger inside her, shoving his index, middle and ring fingers all inside her as deep as they would go.

The second she felt all three inside her, filling her so utterly along with his desperate sucks and licks, her first ever orgasm rushed through her body. From her head to her toes, waves and waves of pleasure melted over her, her toes curled, her body trembled, her hips bucked and spasmed, she squirted down his face, her eyes rolled back, and as soon as the wave had crashed, she collapsed in a panting mess against her sheets and dress.

Gwayne watched with unrestrained desire, keeping her hips flush and his fingers deep, he sucked on her clit while she rode out her orgasm, moaning softly against her skin as her own release caused his own, and he came in shivering loads into his britches. He licked every drop of squirt that had fallen from her body before he slid his fingers out and sat up, licking his fingers clean. “Perfect, my sweet peach,” he cooed, fixing some hair that had stuck to her face with sweat, “You are pristine and pure.”

“Thank you, Uncle…” she panted,