For the first time in years, Ser Criston Cole is not guarding his Queen. Alicent has sent him on a covert mission to retrieve her wayward daughter, who has fled from the prospect of marrying her twin brother. It was supposed to be simple, but he quickly finds that the girl he thought to be so like her elder half-sister is in fact quite different.
Author's Note: We are absolutely, uneqivicolly, without a doubt not mentioning that this was planned to be a part of my 2023 12 Days of Smuff. The muses are fickle bitches and I'm a natural procrastinator, what can I say? It's also late for the second writing event it's a part of so maybe just start expecting it at this point.
Pairing: Ser Criston Cole x Aegon's Twin!Reader (3rd person)
Warnings: accidental stimulation
This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.
This work is also part of the @hotd-bigbang House of the Dragon Ships Month for Trope Week!
My Masterlist
Ser Criston Cole held his charge close against his chest as his horse slowed, knowing her legs were likely numb after riding for half the day. Queen Alicent would not be pleased if he let her eldest daughter topple into the mud. She would not be happy that he was taking her to this decrepit little town, either, but they were still more than a full day’s travel away from King’s Landing, and the princess needed rest.
Indeed, she groaned with relief as they approached the inn, with its ramshackle walls and crooked sign. “Thank the gods,” she mumbled. “I thought you were going to make me sleep on the horse. Or in the woods.”
He had considered it. They were more likely to be discovered in a town. But it would be far easier to protect her if she was within solid—or at least, mostly solid—walls. They would be out in the open in the woods, too exposed. He would not only be looking out for men who would harm her but the beasts of the forest as well. And if she were to somehow escape him, it would be far easier for her to hide in the forest. Far easier for her to get herself killed.
Yes, the town was better. Even if it was as seedy as Flea Bottom and as filthy as a stable. It certainly smelled like a stable.
Criston guided his horse to the side of the inn, dismounting and hitching it before he turned back to the princess. “Pull your hood tighter,” he instructed, “do not let it fall.”
She pursed her lips in annoyance, but she obeyed, pulling her hood tighter than was truly necessary, the same petulant show of dramatics Criston had come to expect of her and her twin brother. And her half-sister, he thought with a twinge.
The gods must be punishing him for that transgression for him to again be tasked with chaperoning a girl so like the one he had broken his oath for. It was well-deserved. But he was determined to bear it with as much dignity as he could muster. He stood at the horse’s side and raised his hands to the Princess’ waist.
“I can do it myself,” she snapped.
He knew she could not. Could see the tightening of her jaw as she tried to swing her leg over, only to find it would not move at all. On any other day, he would let her struggle until she wore herself out and asked for his help.
Today, however, he did not have the time. He needed to get her inside and safe as quickly as possible so they could set out all the earlier the following morning. So, he took hold of her, ignoring her yelps of protest and her fists pounding against his shoulders, and lifted her off the horse.
The moment she was on the ground, she wobbled dangerously, and the arms that had been attempting to push him away held tightly to him. He let her steady herself for a moment. “Are you able to walk?”
She glared at him but then looked down to frown at her legs. “I think so.”
“Hold to my arm and stay close.” Criston moved slowly as they rounded the corner of the building, allowing her to find her footing before they entered the inn.
The princess paused at the door, eyes narrowing as she took in the broken sign dangling from the wall. “I thought inns were supposed to be cozy.”
“Some are,” he answered, tugging at her arm to pull her forward, “not this one.”
“Can we not find one that is?”
With a sigh, he faced her, leaning down to meet her eye. “Do you wish to get back on the horse, princess?” She blanched and shook her head. “Then this is it.”
She clung to him as they entered the inn and paid the keeper a gold dragon for his best room, never allowing even a hair’s breadth between his arm and hers.
The inn’s ‘best room’ put half of Flea Bottom to shame.
The floor was crooked. The glass of the single window was spiderwebbed with a thousand tiny cracks. And the bed—the one, small bed—rested on wood blocks rather than proper legs. It was not a place where a princess should sleep. It was hardly a place where anyone should sleep. But it was already dark out, and he would not risk the princess just because he did not want to sleep in such a hovel.
“Do you need to visit the washbasin? Or the privy?” Criston asked the princess, not looking at her eyes. In his periphery, he saw her blush and shake her head. “Good. Get in bed.”
He released the princess’ arm and locked the door behind them, then shoved his dagger into the gap by the hinges as an extra precautionary measure.
When he turned back, he was surprised to see the princess had obeyed his order without protest. It was unlike her. Like her half-sister, she had always fought back against his every command. But not now. It was strange in a way he could neither understand nor explain, yet it made him want to smile.
“Where will you sleep?” she asked. He finally looked at her and found her visibly nervous—her eyes wide, darting about, and hands clutching tightly to the blanket. When he said nothing, she bit her lip and turned away.
She was afraid. Not of returning home and facing her mother or the brother she was to marry, but of the place they were in and what may happen to them. Though it was good to be afraid—it would make her more alert and aware—he could not help his desire to reassure her.
“I will sleep on the floor,” he said as he removed his cloak to bundle for his pillow. “Between you and the door.”
“Will it not be too uncomfortable?”
Criston shrugged. “I slept in more discomfort when I was a soldier.”
“But that was when you were young.”
He froze. “When I was ‘young?’ Are you suggesting that I am old?”
She blushed again, ducking her head to hide her slight smile. “I did not say that.”
Rhaenyra once smiled at him in the same way. Damn. The thought only served to make him angry, even if he knew it was not the princess’ fault that she resembled her half-sister in certain lights. He bunched up his cloak and threw it to the ground. “I am not old.”
“You were a man grown when I was born, were you not?”
She was turning it into a game, masking her own fear by taunting him. Criston knew it, and yet he took the bait. If it helped her to feel safe and sleep, he would play the fool. “I was.”
Her smile brightened. “And I am now a woman grown, about to be married. That makes you, my dear Ser Criston, old.” She was giddy and giggling as she lay on the bed and buried herself beneath the stack of threadbare quilts. “Now get in the bed. You are of no use as my protector if you are too stiff to raise your sword.”
His heart sank. Not for the commentary on his age—he would admit that her logic there was sound—but for the fact that to lay in bed with her was a dangerous thing. A temptation that echoed his lowest moment.
The gods were not punishing him. They were testing him.
Another Targaryen princess. Another innocent game. Another opportunity to break his oath and sully his honor.
“What would your future husband think?” Both a refusal and a reminder of why he had followed her halfway to Duskendale to bring her back to King’s Landing. And if she were trying to coax him, as Rhaenyra did, perhaps it would make her angry enough to abandon the effort.
As expected, her smile immediately fell, and the playfulness vanished from her eyes. “Aegon spends every night on the Street of Silk. What right has he to judge me for simply ensuring the comfort of my escort?”
Again, Criston could not fault her logic. Still, he had to argue, “He is to be your husband and king.”
“Of that, I am all too aware,” she whispered. But she did not snipe back at him. She did not smile, nor frown. All the fight seemed to leave her in a single moment, along with her energy. Sighing, she closed her eyes and turned to face the wall. “Get in the bed or do not. I no longer care.”
He did not quite know how to respond to that, to her seemingly… giving up. In all her life, he had never seen her do that. Rhaenyra certainly had never done so.
Then again, Rhaenyra was never forced to marry her fool of a twin brother.
When the betrothal had been announced, Criston had pitied her. At every event where she was forced to sit next to Aegon while he drank himself silly and groped at serving girls and ladies alike, he had pitied her. When he and Queen Alicent had happened upon her in the Grand Sept, where she begged the gods to deliver her from the marriage, he pitied her. Yet, when she fled, and the king commanded him to track her down and bring her home, he did not hesitate to obey.
For the first time since he found her trying to trade one of her earrings for a new pair of shoes in the common room of the Old Stone Bridge, he felt guilty for what he was doing.
No matter how much he pitied her and wished he could aid her in some other way, he served the king, and the king had commanded him to bring the princess home. He could not disobey, but he could give her this one small concession.
So, Criston laid on the bed beside her, atop the blankets despite the cold, and as far away as he could manage without falling off the edge. He would not be able to sleep like this, but at least the princess could.
After a while, he was sure she had fallen asleep. Until she grumbled, “You are cold, Ser Criston.”
“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, princess.”
She huffed. “I truly am not allowed to be concerned for you?”
“No, you are not.”
Once again, she fell silent.
Then, just when Criston thought she might have fallen asleep again, “Am I allowed to complain that your shivering is keeping me awake?”
Damn the girl.
Criston rearranged himself under the blankets and turned away from the princess. If she were Rhaenyra, she would likely ask that he hold her to keep her warm.
But she was not Rhaenyra, and soon, her breathing softened and steadied.
With that settled, Criston closed his eyes, even if he would not fall asleep.
Criston fell asleep.
He must have, for he found himself startling awake with a soft moan and the mortifying realization that his cock was hard.
Gods, he would never forgive himself for this. He was sharing a bed with the young princess, and he was hard. No better than a young boy after catching his first glimpse of a woman’s bare leg if he reacted like this, even with the space between them. Except…
There was no space between them.
Not anymore. The princess now lay flush against him, her back pressed to his chest, her head resting on one of his arms while her waist was safely cradled in the other, and her… rear pressed against his traitorous, treasonous, troublesome cock.
The gods truly, deeply hated him, for she was dreaming. Actively.
Every movement brought a light, teasing, agonizingly wonderful pressure. It took every bit of his will not to follow her rhythm, to not press back against her. Instinct warred with oath, and Criston was caught in the crossfire with no escape.
He could not disentangle himself from her without waking her. If she woke, she would feel him against her. Perhaps with her younger sister, he could be confident that she would not realize what it meant, but with a twin such as Aegon, he had no doubt she would know.
But if he did not, if he allowed her to continue her movements, he would soon find himself in an even more embarrassing situation that he would not be able to conceal when she woke in the morning.
That was the decision made.
Slowly removing his hand from around her waist, Criston pulled his hips as far away as he could. Only when he felt there was no chance of her feeling his predicament did he press against her shoulder and whisper, “Princess, wake up.”
He should have gotten out of the bed.
The Princess startled, spinning around to face him, draping an arm around his neck and pulling him close. She moved so fast that he could do nothing to stop her legs from entangling with his, her thigh pressing between his legs and forcing a gasping groan from him.
Her eyes grew wide as she felt his hardness against her, but when she again faced him, they changed. The violet of her eyes faded, overtaken by growing blackness, her eyelids heavy with sleep and something that heated Criston’s blood when it should chill it. Yet even as those eyes fell to his mouth, they held no trace of the mischief he had seen the last time he was so close to a Targaryen princess.
She wanted him but made no move to take him.
It only made him want to kiss her more.
But he could not do that. The gods had given him this chance at redemption and he refused to fail again.
Criston shoved the princess away and rolled out of the bed, crossing the room in two strides to rest his forehead against the rough wood of the door, willing his heart, his blood, and his cock to calm.
Voices, laughter, and music from a very poorly tuned fiddle still bled through the gaps in the doorframe. But no light came through the window, not even from the slight sliver of the moon that had begun to rise when they arrived. Night, but perhaps still early within it? The hour of the eel?
Whatever it was, it meant it would be some time yet before he could resume taking the princess back to King’s Landing.
“Did I…” Her voice trembled slightly. Was she simply cold? Or was she hurt by him pushing her away? “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he had to take a moment to catch his breath. Perhaps he was getting old. “No. I have done you wrong, princess. I am deeply sorry.”
When they returned to the Red Keep, he would confess his sins to both the gods and his queen. She had mercy on him all those years ago, she could forgive him again, absolve him of his repeated shame.
But this was not Rhaenyra, her erstwhile friend turned stepdaughter and rival. This was her daughter, her second-born child. When she and Aegon were born, Criston had held them before their father did. He had played with them, taught them. Tried to guide them as best he could so they would not feel the absence of their father.
And now, he had come so close to defiling her.
No, his queen would not forgive him for this. He would not forgive himself.
“There is nothing to apologize for, Ser Criston.”
He turned to look at her in bewilderment. ‘Nothing to apologize for?’ According to law, he should be gelded or killed. Two times over. “Yes, there is, my princess. I have dishonored you, myself, and my oath.”
She stood, the blanket draped over her shoulders like a cloak. “No, there is not.”
“Princess – ”
“No, it was my fault!” Her uncharacteristic anger – petulance was more characteristic of her than true anger – was enough to stun him into silence. He only hoped none in the common room heard the slight outburst. But there was no pause in the din nor the truly awful fiddling. “I am the one who tried… I wanted to kiss you, but I should not have done that. I just thought…”
Even knowing that she wanted him, hearing her say it sent a strange feeling of warmth through Criston’s body. “What did you think, princess?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked steadfastly at her feet. “I thought you might want to kiss me, too.”
Gods forgive him. He had wanted to kiss her and still wanted to. But he could not tell her that for his own sake and hers. “What we want is not always possible,” he said. It felt cruel to tell her, even though she must know. It felt like crushing the hopes of the little girl he had known for so long as if it were nothing more than the hollow shell of an egg. “I have sworn an oath that forbids me from… such things. And you are to be married.”
Her face hardened, and for a moment, Criston could see the fierceness of a Targaryen queen in her eyes as she spat, “That didn’t stop you with Rhaenyra.”
His heart turned to lead, its weight enough to pull him through the floor and the earth itself. “Whatever you heard –”
“Rhaenyra told me herself.” She sank back onto the bed, her body drawing in on herself as if she were being scolded rather than exposing the truth of his sins. “Back when she still talked to us. I believe she thought I was too young to understand or remember what she said. She did that a lot, actually.”
Her eyes grew distant, lost in the memory of a sister who was her sister no more, but her enemy. Indeed, her small, sweet smile quickly gave way to a pained grimace. “I do not remember everything she told me, but I remember that. It was a while before I truly understood it, but I remembered. I think… because it was about you.”
“I wish you did not,” he said. “Remember. It is a shame I have long sought to forget myself.”
Silence fell over them like heavy rain, interrupted only by the occasional shouting from the common room. Criston thanked the gods many times over when he was finally able to rid himself of his lust. It was, perhaps, not entirely vanished, but enough so his body finally calmed.
Pity and guilt washed in to replace it. Pity for the poor girl he cared so deeply for who wanted only the one thing he could not – would not – give. Guilt for nevertheless wanting to give it, guilt for the hapless life he was delivering her to, and guilt for the fact that it was his wrongdoings that had led her here.
“Did you love her?”
The answer came easily, instinctually. “No.”
He had never admitted to loving Rhaenyra, but he had never denied it. After all, if he had loved her, was the sin not lessened? Love was the greatest virtue of the gods, so even if it could not erase the stain on his honor and soul, could it not at least redeem him from damnation?
But he did not love Rhaenyra.
“It was not love,” he declared to himself, the princess, and the gods. “I once believed it was, but in truth, it was no more than a foolish infatuation.”
That was what he was – a fool. On that night and now.
The princess’ voice was so soft Criston nearly could hardly hear it over the murmurings of the busy inn. “I do not love Aegon.”
He knew. Still, “I am sorry, princess.”
“I do not want to marry someone I do not love.” She picked absentmindedly at the skin around her nails. “And I do not want to be queen.”
But she must. It was her duty, and that was not something anyone could escape – not even a Targaryen. Criston certainly had not been able to. Yet he could not bring himself to say so. Instead, he asked, “What do you want?”
“What I want – what I was going to do before you found me,” she gave a humorless laugh. “I was going to find a ship to take me across the Narrow Sea to Lys. My great aunt Saera said she would take me in while I figured out what to do after that.”
Criston’s eyes widened at the name. “Princess Saera? The Old King’s daughter?”
She nodded, jutting her chin out in defiance of the reproach that was surely coming, even as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. “I have been corresponding with her for the better part of a year.”
“In secret?” She nodded again, and his body began to feel as if it were made of molten lead.
A year. She had been planning this escape for nearly a year. It was not, as he had assumed, just an impulsive, rebellious notion but a proper plan. A plan she had risked all her hopes and dreams and happiness upon. A plan he had foiled in mere days, and with such dismissive contempt for her in his heart.
The weight of his guilt became so heavy he could not bear it, and he fell to his knees before her. Of all the sins he committed since Rhaenyra had shackled him with his white cloak, this was the worst—a step too far, even for him.
This lovely princess, a future queen, was good. Sweet and pure and full of hope in a hopeless world. When he looked at her, he no longer saw the impish young girl who so happily followed Aegon in his mischief, but the beautiful, kind woman she had grown into.
He could not condemn that woman to the misery that surely awaited her should she marry Aegon. Whether it damned his soul or cost him his life, he could not.
So, he enveloped her hands in his and gazed up at her eyes. A softer shade of violet than Rhaenyra’s, and all the more beautiful. All the sounds and smells of the awful inn faded away as he looked into those eyes. “If you would allow me, princess,” he swallowed the slight lump in his throat, torn between grief and elation at the prospect of her saying yes, “I would be honored to accompany you on your journey.”
The princess smiled, and as he basked in its radiant glow, Criston realized that what the gods offered by bringing him to her was not temptation or redemption but the chance at a new beginning. A new life. With her.
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Summary: He’s gorgeous and silent. The perfect patron. But the underlying mystery of why this mysterious silver haired stranger spends entire days seated in the library fascinates the staff. One librarian takes it upon herself to see who this mystery man is and what exactly he desires.
Week 4: Free Space - Wanted to write another Modern AU. Besides, ever since Ewan answered with the library as what Aemond would love about modern society I was itching to write him in a modern library setting. This really got away from me.
The Academic
“He’s back again.”
She turned to look at her co-worker. Her dark haired co-worker was slowly sipping her coffee while tilting her head in the direction of the he in question. The librarian adjusted her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose as her light eyes fell in the direction of him.
Their silver haired frequent researcher had a decent looking spread across one of the library’s wide tables. She held a series of poor condition large print titles that were due to be recycled. She plopped them on the dark book cart hearing the hardcovers echo against the howl metal.
He remained concentrated. His long curtain of white blonde hair did not even deter him from his studies. He scribbled notes before flipping one page then two pages in another book. She could definitely see a range of atlases and maps he had somehow found within the public library walls.
“The Academic.” Her co-worker nearly chuckled in a posher than normal voice.
“A nickname just because he is doing a research project?” She said with a sigh. Her fingers tickled the edges of the cracked veiny spines. She slowly shifted the titles to be in alphabetical order.
“Yes, but you see the assortment of books he has piled up, maps, business proposals, history books, and I am pretty sure he’s found every title older than seventy years old not in a glass case.” She gave her coffee a loud sip again. They both looked toward their mystery researcher.
Still very concentrated.
“He’ll come looking for one of those titles in the historical room one of these days. I’m sure of it.” There was a soft smile on her co-worker’s face that nearly looked dreamy.
“You just think he’s attractive.” She whispered in a hiss. Her hands gripped the metal handles of the book cart.
“Oh please,” She settled the cardboard coffee cup beside her desktop at the reference desk. “I see the way you make eyes at him. I’ll turn on the fan for you.” Her fingers clicked on their small fan at the desk.
The librarian huffed pulling the cart away. One wheel spun out as she moved it across the carpet. It echoed softly hitting bumps every so often. Her french tip nails clicked against the cart. There was a slight pause in her pathway when she realized she would have to pass “the academic” to get to the back office.
The library was nearly empty on the creeping autumn mid afternoon. The trees had just started turning that crisp orange with yellow veins along the leaves. The large framed windows let in the shadows of oranges that made her feel cozy to be inside. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment.
He had his hair half up in a small ponytail. He wore a soft green sweater with two navy stripes nearly hidden beneath the fluff of the sweater. She could see white cuffs peeking through the cuffs on the sweater. He had before him an array of different colored pens and highlighters lined up in a nearly perfect line.
Her lips settled into a soft smile seeing it.
There was an appreciation there in seeing organization.
She loved seeing how he had lined them up, placing them back in order as he went.
Not as if she were looking.
Slowly she pushed her cart past the front of his table. Her soft heels settled on the hard carpet making an easy click as she moved.
He looked up.
She saw him then.
The librarian wasn’t sure why she hadn’t seen the eye patch, leather and etched with an embroidery of leaves along the edges. The design work was actually quite beautiful. His soft violet eye slowly blinked at her.
She felt caught somehow as if she were doing something wrong instead of her job.
Her throat rolled out a quiet whimper. She winced, feeling her covered big toe knock against one of the wheels. She nearly tripped. Their mystery researcher began to stand. Her hands pushed the cart further until she passed his table.
He was standing, watching her go.
She didn’t want to look back.
Her mind wandered to imagining that he was looking at her behind in the long skirt skating at her ankles.
In the window of the office she could see, he was doing just that.
He was outside before they opened almost every day now. She always thought the silver haired researcher looked dashing in every outfit he came in with. Her co-workers would swoon with curiosity at what exactly he was working on.
Librarians were always up for a good mystery.
He never spoke to a single employee. His long fingers and brilliant mind seemed to navigate the shelves with great ease as if he had been here since the building opened and had not just appeared two months before.
She noticed the things her co-workers seemed to ignore in favor of his physical traits.
They, of course, had noted the eyepatch, but she had noticed how he seemed to not touch it as if it were an old wound he was used to when the world seemed too silent around him.
She noted what kind of bags he came with. A green leather briefcase and a canvas messenger bag always accompanied him to his table. His table was nearest to the non-fiction materials. She noted he remained close to the history section. He never took too many steps from his table to what materials he needed.
While her co-workers continued to be curious what the handsome stranger was researching, seeing him devoted to taking every copy of the history section on The Conquest to his table to study and topical maps of the surrounding areas of Westeros, she had been curious how he researched.
He did not come in with a laptop, but instead a smattering of over used notebooks that were dog eared and sticking out papers at the edges. There was organization there. She could tell as he maneuvered between each notebook with ease pulling out different writing utensils with each different book.
There was no doubt he remained very concentrated about his work.
“How does he know where it all is?” Her co-worker had asked while in the break room. She was looking between the blinds at him.
There were only the two of them in the break room. While her co-worker was nearly glued to watching the handsome researcher, she continued to eat her tuna fish sandwich shrugging slightly.
“He seems intelligent enough to figure it out.” It was an obvious statement. She heard the blinds snap closed. “What?” Her co-worker stared at her rolling her eyes.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” She picked at the crust of her bread looking down.
“Pretend like you have some special bond with him. Like you know him.” Her eyes narrowed as if trying to decide if her words might be true.
“I just appreciate how self-sufficient he is. It’s rare.”
That seemed to be the end of the conversation.
She had the night shift that evening. It was always quiet toward the end of the night. This was the time she could do her displays. She was pulling some titles for non-fiction ghost stories as autumn continued to linger into the spooky season. Her short list of titles was nearly finished, but she was missing one.
Her feet padded over to the section, checking the early 100s for about the fifth time. Her fingers wiped over the empty spot which should have held, Most Haunted Places of Westeros. It was a loose spot with several titles leaning into each other for support. She didn’t know why she was so keen to find the title. Perhaps it was because the records said it was checked in and it was not exactly where it was supposed to be.
It frustrated her when things were out of place.
She clicked her nails against the wooden shelf. Her eyes wandered beyond that spot to the other side. Her eyes caught the side profile of a curtain of silver hair as he stood looking over a title. Her eyes caught his eye for a sharp moment staring a bit caught in the moment. She saw the twitch of a smile on his face. Her fingernails scratched the wood watching him walk away.
Maybe . . .
Her body moved automatically putting the books on display at the end cap of the non-fiction shelving unit. She smoothed out the display sign indicating what kinds of titles were on display, a black inky paper filled with white cartoon ghosts flying out of a white lined Victorian house. There was that missing spot though. It made her lips twitch a bit. She turned the corner to look for the title thinking it may have been mishelved.
She wasn’t sure how long she was looking or when she had gotten on her hands and knees to obsessively check the bottom shelves. Her hand caught her sneeze hearing the tail end of a clearing of a throat.
“Sorry,” His voice was not familiar to her, but it was higher than she imagined it. She sniffled, turning to see the silver haired stranger holding out exactly what she was looking for. “I took one of your books for your display, didn’t I?”
Her mind blanked for a moment looking up at him from on her knees on the hard carpet. She sat back on her ankle booties. Her glasses, silver framed completely on purpose since she had to stare at his silver hair all day and every week, slid down her nose. When she adjusted them she could see he was wearing a black button up with every button fascinated tight. So tight in fact she could see that his biceps and pecs were straining.
She nibbled at the side of her lips before realizing his words.
“Oh it is no trouble I can -”
“No, please. I’m finished. Besides, you are closing soon.” He nodded his head curtly holding out the thick yellowed paged book. She could smell the age of it from here, but it was a perfect addition for her display which she desperately needed.
She shifted upwards, unable to stop herself from witnessing the way his violet eye seemed to follow her. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Gods, he was tall! Nearly a foot taller than her, but she could have imagined that by the way he was slumped over his studies.
There was more she could say, but instead she mumbled a soft thank you letting her fingers grasp the book from his hand. She pressed it to her chest letting her feet take her back to the end cap.
He watched her.
She felt that soft eye on her making sure the book returned to where it needed to be.
“You know we close in fifteen minutes. Don’t you, Sir?” She said merely so she could break his little stare. She was aware he knew this information.
“Oh yes, right. I should start packing up my things. Apologies again for the book.” He nodded awkwardly before returning to his table where he did in fact have a large spread of items.
While he packed up she looked up at the cover of the book they had both been desperately clinging to.
She wondered what a man like him could need a book about supernatural locations for.
He had finally checked out a book.
It was the gossip of the day among all the curious library workers. He had come up to the circulation desk with one paperback fiction title tucked at his hip. It was before he went on his two hour lunch break to the local coffee shop. Upon handing his library card, everyone now knew the name of the silver haired patron who graced them with delicious eye candy for months.
Aemond Targaryen.
It wasn’t long before everyone knew quite too much about the no longer stranger. She had sat back and listened as they listed his accomplishments and failures. The Targaryens were nearly celebrities, but the silver hair while hereditary wasn’t exactly an indication of a true Targaryen. Many people dyed their locks to look like the semi celebrity royals of Westeros.
It didn’t bother her much that they were searching for juicy gossip about the long haired Aemond Targaryen. That was simply human nature. People were curious when strange people came in. Aemond was an interesting fellow. She could admit that.
What bothered her most was when they discussed his eye.
It was no secret Aemond Targaryen was missing one eye.
She had never been curious about the cause of it.
What good was knowing the nature of his disability?
Her co-workers seemed obsessed over knowing how the eye was lost.
When they were discussing she had taken to leaving the room or planting herself on the large circular reference desk in the middle of the library that always faced him. Everytime she did she saw him catch her with his one good eye.
She was beginning to notice it more and more ever since the first day she spoke to him.
Aemond Targaryen was curious about HER.
Her co-workers were so wrapped up in knowing him more that they had not noticed that they had now taken to exchanging soft smiles. It was a small gesture, but one she seemed to look forward to. She had also taken to going to lunch around the same time as him. She would whisper her request for an early lunch knowing he would softly gather his things before heading to the coffee shop within walking distance. It may have been her imagination, but when she lifted herself from the squeaky wheeled chair at the desk he’d look up and begin to pack up as if on an automatic timer.
There was an unwritten rule not to scold him if he came back with his flat white latte with the lid firmly on. Now that they understood he was a Targaryen the rule was very widely known among patrons and the staff.
She had settled herself at the desk beginning her desk shift for the day. Her items were always well placed beside her. Her notebook containing her to-do list was open on her left while her cold brew with a light pink reusable straw was settled to her right on top of a tissue in an attempt not to make a stain on the ancient desk. She was typing her password in the computer when she felt his warm shadow.
“I was looking for a book.”
Aemond Targaryen liked to wear black and green. It had something to do with the heraldry of their house in Old Valyria. Not that she had scrolled on her phone late one night to discover the reason. However today he was dressed in a rather plain looking mock grey turtleneck and dark jeans. His eye patch however was a faded olive green leather bordered with little vines at the edges.
“Oh, of course,” His question caught her off guard. He never came looking for a title. Aemond Targaryen was used to navigating the library on his own. It seemed to function as a second home to him. She suspected if he could sleep here he would. “Do you know the -”
“It says it is in special collections.” He answered as if seeing the curiosity on her face. She saw his head tilt slightly. “It’s on The Conquest.” Her brain worked to guess what he was talking about. There was a small smile peaking at the corners of her lips as if he were enjoying seeing her mind sort through all the titles.
“We have many titles in our historical archives on The Conquest. Did you have a specific one in mind?” She hated to give up and not give him an answer, but -
“How many titles?”
“Twenty six.” Her eyes nearly widened at her own memory.
His lashes fluttered as he chuckled softly.
“You know the collection quite well, Miss . . .”
She spoke her name. Her voice cracked a bit at the letters.
Gods was he handsome.
She hated that.
“Perhaps you can show me the collection?” There was a softness in his voice as he asked, a politeness she rarely heard in the few times they spoke.
She simply nodded shifting to put up the sign at the desk signifying she was off desk. Her fingers shuffled for the keys to the private room and various locked cabinets in the drawer. He waited and watched her as she moved. She momentarily thought to break the silence of the soft echo of their heels by asking him of his research, but slowly thought it was none of her business.
The historical archives room was a space on the opposite end of the library. Individuals rarely went in there, but there was the occasional reporter or request that came in from across the country asking for a scan of a record. Generally civilians didn’t ask too much for the room unless they were doing family research.
“Conquest.” She muttered under her breath a few times in a sing-song tone.
She noted he was leaning against one of the shelves before she turned to give him a stern look.
“Please be careful. That is original furinture.” She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. It appeared to work though. Aemond Targaren acted as a caught child straightening up, folding his hands behind him. “Now as I said we have a number of titles on The Conquest.”
“Twenty six.” He repeated her own words.
The high ceilings seemed to echo those words.
“Yes,” She swallowed, moving to tap her fingers along the first of several glass cases that bordered the room. “Most are in these cases, if you want to -”
“I know what I am looking for.” Aemond said.
He scrolled confidently over to a small cabinet near the exit of the room. It held many titles that were distinguished as being from two hundred years ago. She hesitated before going to the cabinet to join him. She followed his line of sight to see that he was eyeing the only spine with no title.
“These are rarely looked at.” The librarian started out loud. “There is a procedure if you wish to look at them.” She started to move to the small drawer underneath the cabinet pulling out supplies. There was a small pink plastic bin she settled on the table. The brunette could feel his eyes watching her. She adjusted her glasses hoping he did not notice they were fogging.
“I’ll need your id.” She shifted the little card bin brushing off some dust from infrequent use. “You’ll need to wear these gloves to look at the item.” Her finger shifted the small pump of hand sanitizer and box of tight blue latex gloves. “Put the sanitizer on your hands before the gloves.” She lined the items out in the order he needed to use them. Her eyes fluttered up to him. Aemond slowly turned his head toward her, eyeing the items. “The item must remain in this room. Any damage -”
“I will not damage the item.” He stated coldly.
“Any damage to the item will be noted. There are cameras in this room.” That last line was one she should not have stated yet she still pointed them out to the man. He did not follow her finger, but instead remained looking at her. His focus made her cheeks hot. “Do you have any questions?”
“Will you be watching me the entire time I read?” There was a cheekiness there in his tone.
“Only if you would like me too.” She wasn’t sure where her own flirtation had come from.
“Hmmm . . .” He wondered if he wanted that. “I should not keep you. I will not be long. I simply need to make some notes.” His hand patted his jean pocket where she could see the spirals of the notepad sticking out.
The librarian shifted her keys hating how close he leaned to her, hating more how she could very much see how her fingers trembled as she opened the door. She could smell his cologne on him, something she had not noticed before. It was soft and musky like a forest after a very heavy rain when every pine was fresh and wet. She shifted to put the gloves on herself retrieving the delicate item from the cabinet.
He did as instructed. Aemond Targaryen placed his driver’s license in the bin. He wet his hands with a slow spurt of santizer rubbing it between his two hands while watching her. He slipped the gloves on with ease.
“I will come check on you in fifteen minutes.”
With that she left him to his business fully aware that his eyes trailed after her when she left.
Her mind could not focus on the tasks she had left. Her emails remained a blank white screen. Her voice trembled slightly as patrons came to the desk asking computer based questions and looking for titles. One young woman even asked if she was alright.
Gods, what was this man doing to her?
It had been exactly sixteen minutes when she had a chance to go check on him.
He was maneuvering from the table of contents to numbered passages. She was fully aware that was what he was doing as she noticed the gesture. Aemond Targaryen did that often with other books at the library.
“A minute late. Tsk, tsk.” Her heart jumped at the disappointment in his tone before she noted his little smile.
“Patrons can be quite needy.” What was she saying?
“Am I a needy one?”
“No. You are quite self sufficient. It is very much appreciated.” She shifted on her heels before deciding to approach him. “Did you need more time or . . .”
“Hmmm . . .” He looked down at his small notepad. “Perhaps another five minutes. That should give me enough time to take my final notes. Would that be sufficient?” When he looked at her she felt her heart in her throat. His hair was perfectly laid back across his toned shoulders.
“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything.”
She walked out fast knowing if she lingered too long he may say something cheeky.
The librarian settled at the desk noting the time. She wrote one email in those five minutes that she immediately erased seeing how it almost read as nonsense.
“He asked for a book?” Her co-worker wondered as their shift was beginning to change.
The librarian explained what had transpired, noting the title.
“He checked out a fictional recount of The Conquest. I saw he’s getting a dual master’s in history and philosophy.” When she inquired how her co-worker knew that she simply winked.
“I’m going to check on him then go to lunch.” The librarian shifted up the pink bin containing his id to bring back to him.
When she entered the room he was not at the table. The book was left abandoned. He was looking through the shelves at other titles, hands behind his back.
“All finished, then?”
He simply nodded. She handed him back his id. He reached for his wallet, putting it back inside. She could not help seeing the wads of large bills sticking out from there. Yes the Targaryens were quite well off, but it was one thing to have the knowledge and another to see the cash in his wallet.
“Did you find everything you needed?” She couldn’t help herself. She wanted to talk to him more.
“I did. Have a good lunch, my dear.”
With that he left, letting his dress heels echo in the room. The librarian began to put on the gloves to return the book when she found the edges of a ripped out spiral piece of paper sticking out.
Surely this didn’t belong.
She pulled it free seeing that hand writing was not only beautiful, but the message caused her cheeks to flush.
If you are able to get away please meet me for lunch today. I suspect you know the spot. - Aemond Targaryen
She rubbed the message between her fingers lingering over the thought that he knew that she watched him so closely.
Dare she answer this request?
Her heart fluttered widely at the thought of it. Her mind raced thinking that she could not get a coffee as she had already had her caffeine for that day. Why was she focused on coffee when Aemond Targaryen had asked her out to lunch?
Instead she let her mind focus on the task at hand. She put the book away. As she ripped off the gloves she felt unsettled on her feet.
How long had it been since she had been asked out?
How long would it be if she rejected this request?
Soon she found herself by her locker contemplating exactly what she should do.
“I’m going out to lunch today. Be back in an hour.” She told her co-worker at the desk before heading out the front doors into the chilled November air.
She shifted on her feet in line unsure what exactly she expected when entering the small cafe. It smelt of fresh coffee and cream with the steam of the espresso machine calling out to her. The clattering of plates settled on the counter for bussers to shift freshly pressed pannis and bowls of over grown gourmet salads to tables.
Her eyes raked over the scene spread before her. It was a small smattering of people in business suits mixed with friends chatting over wide brimmed cups of hot coffee. Despite it being a short five minute walk from her library she had never been inside. It felt cozy and warm, especially on such a chilly day.
“You came.” She barely noticed as he settled next to her in line.
The librarian only nodded.
“I’ve never been here.” She mused.
“I’m as much a regular here as the library. Let me buy you lunch.” His hand seemed to hover behind her back as if wishing to touch her.
“No, please, I couldn’t -”
“But you will. Let me. Please.” The sparkle tangled in that violet eye making her sigh aloud. She blinked letting strands of her brown hair fall into her eyes clouding her sight as they settled on her glasses.
Aemond started small talk about what he had liked and disliked so far in his several months coming to the location. He pointed out his favorites. She noted he settled on healthier menu items, turkey sandwiches or salads with fresh fruits. They were in a bit of a heated discussion on whether fruit belonged in a salad when it was their turn.
“The usual Mr. Targaryen?” The young woman with a nose piercing and big bright eyes asked him. Her eyes looked curious at his lunch companion.
“Yes, but I will also be getting lunch for my date here.”
The noise of the place roared silent in her mind, though she suspected the world continued around them.
Date?
Date?!
Date . . .
“My dear, what would you like?” He asked it as if he had asked her several times.
“Oh, um . . . caesar salad, no croutons, add avocado.”
It was her go to with any location, though avocado was not usually something many cafes could accomedate. This place seemed able to provide her with it. When asked for her drink she had ordered a tea. It seemed like the correct beverage for a location such as this.
Aemond found them a table. One that she suspected was another regular spot. It had an amazing view of a small garden outside. She tugged at her coat as she prepared her tea seeing that they had quite an assortment of flavors. She tried not to focus on how nice he looked with the sun shining in his long silver locks. She certainly wasn’t watching his lips against the cardboard cup sipping at his latte.
She settled her tea on the table before removing her coat. His eye watched her every movement as if taking in each small gesture to memory.
“I’m so glad you came.” She swallowed at the words looking at him. “I really didn’t think you would.”
“Why’s that?”
“You are . . . hmmm . . .” He hummed into his cup before taking a deep sip. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Very professional. I did not think dating a patron would be something you would consider.”
It wasn’t.
She sipped at her fruity tea without saying those words.
“Why did you come to lunch with me then?” He scratched at his cup.
“Curiosity.” She hummed with a shrug.
“Is that all?” He nearly laughed at the notion.
“I would not have come if I thought I wouldn’t enjoy myself.” It was true. Why would she waste her time on a boring person? Aemond Targaryen was intriguing. She could not deny him that.
“You are so kind to say that. Not many people would have taken the offer.”
They watched as their food was settled on the table. Another young girl seemed to let her eyes linger on him as she placed his roasted turkey sandwich with kale chips in front of him. Her salad was nearly a second thought.
“You see.” He told her motioning as the bus girl let them be.
“See?” She positioned her utensils beside her just as she liked.
“Do not play dumb with me, my dear. I know you see.” His voice was lower, harsher, filled with a feeling she could not put her finger on.
“You do not need me to tell you that you are intimidating and handsome.” Her fork stabbed at her salad as she used her knife to cut it into smaller pieces.
“Handsome?” He cooed.
“Don’t get a big head about it. I am aware you know everyone at the library is nearly falling over themselves to bask in your presence.” She was nearly bitter about it as she spoke.
“Not you.”
“No, I’m just better at hiding it.” She was. She had taken the time to hide any feelings she had, bury them deep until she could not feel them any longer. Many of her therapists called it unhealthy, but it never stopped her from doing it.
“What else are you hiding, my dear?” He hadn’t touched his food. Aemond Targaryen was looking at her with a bewitched look as if he could fall in love with her at any moment.
“Keep taking me out on dates and maybe you’ll find out.”
He did just that.
Aemond Targaryen, the more she thought about it, seemed to be enchanted by her presence. They had taken to going out to lunch twice a week. Occasionally they would hold hands on line as they ordered, but it was nothing more than that. Aemond was a true gentleman letting her guide every touch and subject they settled on.
She learned his father had recently passed on leading to a fight within the family for the wealth he left behind. Aemond wanted nothing more than to continue his education. He was in a very intense dual master’s program with a hope to someday become a professor or work in another program in his field. They discussed their favorite museums and topics they both loved.
She was surprised how easy every conversation was.
It was as if they were good friends rekindling their friendship into a romance.
She told him how much she adored every aspect of her job. Organization and learning were her favorite things in the world. His organization was something that caught her eye long before his beauty.
As December approached, he began to ask her out for dinner and cozy outings. As Christmas approached she could very much feel that Aemond Targayen was more than a friend and rather a boyfriend. It was made very apparent when they walked hand in hand in the Christmas market. He had given her a kiss, their first, before letting her drive off home.
They hid their relationship well as he still came to study in the library. He explained he could not resist being close to her, but also he still had much to study. She never truly hid the relationship from her co-workers. Right before Christmas some of her co-workers seemed to figure out her and Aemond were dating.
They didn’t say much.
They could be as coy and silent as her.
On Christmas when she visited her family she received texts from him wishing her well and wistfully waiting to see her again. After Christmas he began to come into the library less though they continued their dates after work with dinners out. He explained his absence due to the fact that he was dealing with the inner workings of his family’s estate due to the sudden inability of his elder brother, Aegon to handle manners.
On New Year’s Eve, Aemond Targaryen took his girlfriend out to a bar, Storm’s End. It wasn’t a typical location they went out to. He usually took her to historical locations buzzing to discuss the history behind the restaurant or museums with elegant restaurants attached. Storm’s End was a bit seedy with shaded lights and a smoky atmosphere.
He had picked her up after work not telling her this was where they were going.
Aemond had pulled out the bar stool and ordered for them. He knew her drink order by now. She loved a fruity martini after a long day. That night she sipped on a mango martini and watched him order a very expensive scotch that made the bartender’s eyes widen. He repeated the price several times before believing that the Targaryen man actually wanted it. Her hand traveled up Aemond’s thigh as the liquid in the glass seemed to disappear at her lips.
She could hear his breath grow a bit heavier as she squeezed his toned thigh.
Alcohol always loosened her inhibitions.
They had not done anything quite sexual as of yet, but it did not mean she didn’t want to.
The opportunity had never truly arisen.
The hottest they had gotten was making out in his car before she decided she needed to go inside and his lips were bright red with her pretty lipstick.
“You keep that up and I’ll have to take you into the bathroom.” He teased brushing his fingers along her knuckles.
“What if that’s my goal for the evening?” She leaned forward feeling tempted to tease him further. “Have you fuck me against a dirty wall in a seedy bar? Is that why you brought me here, Aemond Targaryen?” It was only a tease as she kissed under his ear.
Before anything further could settle between them, a large order of chicken wings settled between them. She was starving. Her fingers pulled apart the wings eager and hungry not caring if hot sauce coated her fingers. He couldn’t help himself watching her. He was glad when she offered her dirty fingers to him to suckle. The way his lips moved made her twitch a bit under her skirt.
It wasn’t a foreign feeling. She wasn’t a prude. Her sexual history was wrought with playful exploration and deep desires. Aemond had occasionally squeezed her thighs as they kissed. His fingers would gently stroke her sex as well. Nothing more had come of it which had been a bit of a disappointment.
She suspected tonight they could take their relationship further.
It was especially true when Aemond seemed to take her chin in his hands. He began to kiss her right there at the bar letting his tongue explore her. The martini was empty by now, giving her a pleasant buzz that allowed her arms to wrap around him to settle into the pleasure of feeling him. Her breath was hurried as her fingers pulled at his long locks. Aemond didn’t seem to mind how enthusiastic she was being. His hands anchored her hips to the stool even as she tried to lift up to crawl into his lap.
“You are so fuckin needy.” He said between kisses. “You want me so bad don’t you, beautiful?” She licked her lower lip at his words. “Come on now. Let’s get you home, my dear.”
She saw him fish out a single bill from his wallet. Her hands stroked his thigh feeling how toned he was. She would not get used to feeling the muscles on his thigh and under his shirt. He was so fuckin’ toned for a man who seemed glued to old dusty books.
“Gods,” He whimpered. Her cold hands were inching under his now untucked button up. “Relax. I’ll take care of you soon enough.”
It nearly sounded like a threat.
She didn’t mind it. It was very clear how badly she wanted him. She should have been embarrassed. There were whistles across the bar. All eyes on her as she was being quite bad feeling him up in front of every living person in this bar. It didn’t matter to her. She’d never see these people again. If she felt the need she could dry hump her boyfriend here if she thought he wouldn’t spank her later.
Though she wasn’t against spanking.
“Aemond.” She whispered against his ear.
“Fuckin’ don’t,” He cooed. Aemond Targaryen pulled her off the bar stool. “I’m glad I drove. You’re a mess and only from one drink.” She had forgotten what martinis did to her. She had gone out with Aemond having a glass of white wine, but the harder stuff made her a bit handsy.
Well maybe more than a bit.
He drove her back to her place, a small flat not far from the bar.
When he parked she nearly crawled on top of him whispering his name against his pretty lips.
“Do you want to come inside?” There was a lilt of naughtiness in her tone.
“I feel if I don’t you’ll have all kinds of fun without me.” He grabbed her chin looking her over. “Your glasses are all fogged up, silly girl.” He kissed her cheek then down her neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” She shivered as he licked and kissed her neck, teasing the fur around the collar of her coat. “Come on. Let’s get you warmed up.”
Her mind at the thought of going inside became more focused. She didn’t want to feel too needy and desperate their first time having sex. She wanted to be able to feel every second of Aemond Targaryen taking control of her body or however he wanted her. She shifted taking the lead to pull him inside. Aemond surprisingly let her take control letting his hand rest eagerly in hers.
The key pushed into the lock with ease.
Her mind floated to the idea that he would be pushing his cock inside her in a similar manner later tonight.
She settled beside the door looking about for a moment. Panic rose in her thoart at the thought that her flat might be a nightmare. There were some piles of books beside the sofa in the living room, but not much else was out of place except . . .
“Samson!” She hissed seeing her lithe black cat hop on the counter in the open kitchen just as she removed her last shoe. “Psst! Get down.” The cat looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Gods!”
She started padding her feet over to the cat who immediately retreated into the living room. Aemond gave a soft chuckle watching the ordeal unfold.
“Oh you think this is funny?” Her grin softened slightly.
“Yes. You are quite adorable when you are a bit mad.” His eye watched the cat slink under the couch. Samson watched him with yellow eyes as his tail swished back and forth. “He’s a bit skittish.” She threw her coat toward the couch, though Samson was so used to the gesture he did not move from under it.
“You aren’t around cats a lot are you?” She took his hand in hers trying to pull his attention away from the suspicious feline. “Let me show you the bedroom. Kitty will be fine.” Her mind thought about saying something lewd about a different kind of pussy cat, but she was too needy for words any longer.
It seemed to work. His eye settled on her following like a lost puppy ready for a delicious treat. She’d give him anything he needed tonight while not compromising her desires. Despite her up tight demeanor she was curious to see what Aemond Targaryen desired in the bedroom. He seemed quite enamored with her thighs, squeezing and caressing them any chance he got.
When she pulled him into her bedroom she did not give him a chance to look around. Her arms pulled him down to crash into her lips. Her tongue was eager to push inside his mouth and whimper small noises against his plush lips. His hands settled on her brown checkered dress pushing her close into him.
She could feel how hard he was for her.
It was pure desperation.
Her arms pulled him down, nearly ready to jump on him.
“Mmmm. . .” He hummed against her lips. “Wait.” She let herself obey even though her body wanted to reject his words.
He pulled from her letting his gaze settle over her. Aemond licked his lips. She could see him breathing so heavily. He was struggling to gain his composure, to obey his own word of warning. He hummed again before licking his lips again. His finger pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. It was then she noticed how hard she was breathing.
“So bloody gorgeous.” He said in nearly a single breath.
“So are you.” She mused with a soft innocent smile trying her best not to touch him again.
“Don’t do that.” He warned. Aemond straightened letting his eye tease across her bright face.
“I’m not doing anything.” She shifted on her sock clad feet.
“Yes, you are.” Aemond tucked her hair behind her ear. “Just standing there with that little smile.” His fingers traced her lips as he spoke. “And your glasses framed silver as if I wouldn’t notice.” He tapped his finger at the corner of the glasses, a reflective silver frame. “You’ve wanted me for so much longer then I realized, haven’t you? I should have noticed sooner. I could have been doing these things,” He moved his other hand up her skirt passed her panties to her wetting slit. “To you so much sooner.” She gasped feeling his finger slip inside her. His palm held her face as he fingered her.
“You are so fuckin wet.” His voice was low and teasing. His nose nuzzled against her cheek. “You want me to fuck you? Hmmm . . . tell me what you want me to do to you.” She couldn’t think as he pumped his finger inside her. “Oh, my dear. Can’t tell me hmmm . . .” She shook out her hair. He tucked it back together into that little tight bun atop her head. “How about I make a request then?”
She nearly cried out when he pulled his hand away from inside her. His hand started to unbutton his black dress shirt. Aemond pulled it off tossing it to the floor. Her eyes raked over his toned chest for only a moment. He was fluid as he undressed taking his shoes, socks, pants, then boxers off until he was completely nude in front of her. He stroked his cock, from base to tip slowly watching her squirm to move under his gaze.
“I want you to sit on my face.”
He moved to her soft white comforter settling on the pillow on her bed.
She blinked for a moment taking in his request.
“Did you not here me, love?” He sat up slightly looking her over. “Come sit on my face, my dear. Let me eat that sweet cunt of yours until you are trembling.” She blinked again before letting her fingers pull off her silk panties. She reached behind her to find the zipper of her dress.
“No.” He said sharply. “Keep the dress on.”
“You don’t want to see me?” It was an automatic reaction of self doubt that bubbled at her lips.
“That’s not it, love.” She started to kneel on the bed as he spoke. He took her hands in his. “I have a bit of a fantasy.” Ah there it was.
“Librarian fetish?” She was no stranger to that sort of thing.
“Not exactly.” His soft blush told her differently though.
“No shame in expressing what you like, my dear.” She used his own words against him. “Tell me. I suppose you want me to keep my glasses on too.” She adjusted said glasses up the bridge of her nose. She watched him swallow. His cock even twitched. It was such a simple gesture and he had nearly creamed himself.
“Please.” He was nearly begging now. “Sit on my face. Let me make you feel good.”
She hiked up her skirt rolling the fabric as she moved over him. She let her pussy lips skate across his cock as she moved. The groan was so low and needy she wondered if she needed to settle on his long hardness right then and there. Instead she settled for lowering on his face.His lips suckled her loudly causing her to gasp deeply.
“Oh, so fuckin’ good. Yes.” She tried to focus on her breathing. The skirt blocked her view from his lovely face, though she could still feel how good his lips were treating her. “Let me know if I’m too heavy or you need a - ahhhhhhh!” She felt her hips moving against his mouth riding his tongue out as it found her clit to suckle.
She had never ridden a man’s face before. Yes she had gotten eaten out, but this was a very different experience all together. Her hands positioned themselves against the plush headboard of her bed. It rocked banging softly against her egg shell colored walls. His hands held her steady and close to his face. She could not help herself in leaning into his mouth that latched onto her. His nose flicked back and forth stimulating her clit that she felt was just as needy as her.
Her breath heaved in and out trying to focus on being able to breath. Her whimpering was a bit pathetic, but the more noises she made the more vigorous Aemond seemed to become. His hands were under her dress holding her hips against his mouth. She could hear the loud suckling against her cunt along with the slobbering mess he was drooling over her cunt. His moans and delicious little noises spurned her on.
“Aemond, I’m close. Aemond . . .” There were no words any longer, but she could feel him move her skirt. Her eyes closed as she felt herself unravel on his mouth.
Her hands laid flat against the headboard. Her hips rutted against his mouth riding out her little high. Her eyes finally settled downward to see he had moved her skirt to watch her face as she came undone. She licked her lips seeing how latched he still was on her cunt. It felt raw feeling her cunt in his mouth, seeing him looking up at her with blown back black eyes.
She started to move, but he anchored her there in his mouth, moaning in protest. He closed his eye, beginning to kiss and lick her cunt then slowly toward her inner thighs.
“Aemond . . . please.” She didn’t know what to say after. He was moaning and licking. She felt her face flush as she could feel her arousal leaking from her. “Let me . . .”
“You are behaving perfectly for me.” He said between kisses on her cunt. “Ride my face again. Just like before.” He moaned into her again.
“Don’t you want me to ride your cock?” She groaned so sweetly as she nibbled her bottom lip.
“Fuckin’ temptress.” He groaned, releasing her. “Go on then. Get on it.”
She pumped her hips a bit over his lips letting his nose tease her clit before maneuvering to where he wanted her. She hovered over his cock. Her hands skated over his toned abs not able to help herself in giving a tone that spoke to her admiration of his body.
“If you liked how my pussy tasted,” Slowly, ever so slowly she lowered herself despite the impatience that screamed across his features. “You’ll love how it feels.”
He cried out with her as she sank on him in one quick motion. Her cunt was used to a slow easy stretch that she wanted to test herself to see how she might react if she let his cock in with a singular motion. It felt unexpected, a bit unpleasant, and incredibly satisfying.
“Gods, you are so full of surprises.” He groaned under her. She saw tears catch at the corner of his eye. He let out a little whimper again. His hands snaked to her hips, so round and canting. “Shit, you feel . . . Gods . . .” She was moving. It was causing him to groan and lose his words. “Please don’t stop.”
One hand anchored her hip while the other moved to knead her breast. She helped him find the right rhythm of squeezing and brushing his thumb over her nipple which was rapidly hardening under her bra and dress. Her hands caressed his torso wanting so badly to feel him inside and out. Her hand occasionally raked through his long silver hair.
“So beautiful.” She mumbled. “All mine.” She loved to be a little possessive when it came to the people she loved. Her mouth pulled close to him testing to see if he would let her say those words to him without wanting to turn the tables on her, possess her fully.
“I’m . . . yours.” He breathed between her kisses.
It prompted her to ride him hard. It allowed him to curse. He let out words in a language she did not understand. The tone of it sent her out of control. His hands were against the small of her back pushing over her clothes harder against him. She kept kissing him, riding him, and calling out his name. Her body skated past an orgasm. Her hand snaked under the skirt nearly crushed by her own movement.
She stroked her clit, but he came before she had a chance.
His softening cock made her whimper.
He hummed as he let himself fall back on the pillow.
Aemond pushed her hip slightly, a gesture for her to dismount from him. She suddenly didn’t feel so in control or sexy rolling onto her back beside him.
“Good?” She wondered nuzzling her nose to his throat.
“We’ll get there.” He chuckled. His eye watched as her face grew near offensive. “I prefer to have my partner orgasm first, but first times are about learning. You are such an interesting subject. I can’t wait to study what makes you tick further.” He wrapped her in his arms, snuggling her.
She felt his lips kiss her forehead.
“Happy New Year, my dear.” He whispered against the shell of her ear. “Let me know when you are ready to go again.” His lips curved against her cheek. She could feel his silver hairs tickle her neck.
“Ready whenever you are, love. This time I want you to see all of me.”
The sex was good.
The sex got better with each passing day.
Every date ended at her place, in her bed. His appetite for her was nearly all consuming. The little brunette was able to put the Targaryen man in place if he came on too strong. It was rare though. Her hunger for him was just as dark and consuming.
She had yet to see his place, which bristled her only when her co-workers mentioned it.
“What’s he hiding over there, huh?” They asked.
Her mind often wandered of what she truly knew about Aemond Targaryen besides the surface level things she saw or read. She knew he was intelligent, but that was clear seeing him study every day or looking at his various professional profiles online. He was well mannered. He loved to touch her any chance he could get. He desired her openly when they were sitting at a bar or in a restaurant or at the theater.
She didn’t mind constantly being touched. There was a sweetness in having a needy man at her heels wanting her so badly he’d do just about anything. It felt a bit possessive at times, but when she told him to stop he was very obedient. She suspected being told what to do turned him on.
Her little dirty talk in the bedroom had kept him coming back for more. Or maybe it was her alone. He made her feel so special. He was beginning to lavish her with gifts besides fancy dinners and mind blowing sex.
Fuck he ate her out so fuckin good.
He never gave her a single piece of jewelry. Every gift was thoughtful and exclusive to her. Aemond had her favorite Jane Austen book rebound and custom made. It was etched in a solid gold cover looking like a glorious piece of art. She had nearly cried when he given it to her. Aemond gave her a small custom set of seeds with men he hired taking over her outdoor garden when he saw her reading over how to grow her own food.
She was waiting until the spring to plant them on her little porch outside her flat, but the landscaping had been a delight.
“He’s too good to be true.”
The words echoed in her head from her mother, her co-workers, and anyone else who seemed jealous of her happiness. Those little words ticked in her brain every time she felt too happy with her silver haired beau. Her heart pounded at the thought she might lose him to her own inability to take happiness at face value.
Her fingers still trailed in her overthinking.
Curiosity itched at her brain, but she refused to let it win out today.
He was taking her to Rook’s Rest, the most exclusive and expensive resturant. On Valentine’s Day no less. She had questioned how he could get in several times. He had simply told her he knew she would love their menu and he wanted nothing but the best for his woman.
Aemond had started out the day sending a delivery of a dozen perfect roses in a hand blown glass vase that appeared as the open mouth of a dragon.
He didn’t spend all day at the library instead letting her anticipate his arrival when he picked her up from her flat.
She wore a long black gown with silver collared jewelry and pearl earrings.
“The things I am going to do to you tonight . . .”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time Mr. Targaryen.”
He did.
Fuck did he know how to show her a good time.
Perfect dinner.
Perfect atmosphere.
Perfect company.
When he pulled up to the high rise penthouse she was surprised. It was gorgeous, tall, and a bit overwhelming in the moonlight.
“Let me show you where I live.”
Her heart pounded as she craned her neck. He pulled her into the elevator finding her lips and hips. He grabbed her, whimpering low and needy. Her toes curled as she perched on her toes. Even though she had heels on she was still so much shorter than him.
She barely had time to truly take in Aemond’s penthouse.
She knew that when the elevator opened it was to his entire room.
Everything else blurred.
There were certain aspects of the night that stuck in her brain.
He had put a red ribbon around her throat requesting that was all she wear.
His hand squeezing and spanking her ass.
His lips eating her out like she was his dessert.
His cock so hard bending her over the bed as he fucked her from behind.
His cum flowing against her cheeks.
It happened over and over again until she wanted to beg him to stop, but didn’t because deep down she felt so incredible.
She felt his hands grip around her waist in a semi possessive, semi comforting gesture. He nuzzled his nose in the crock of her neck where the ribbon met her skin. The librarian took the opportunity to let her curiosity win out deciding to scroll through her phone.
Her mind fell down a curiosity hole going over that strange bar on New Year’s Eve. She researched the bar itself learning it had a nefarious history. Since it first opened back in the 70s there had been an insane number of bar fights and alleged murders that occurred both inside and outside of Storm’s End.
Her fingers halted on the most recent death that had lingered on Halloween night just a bloke away from the bar.
A stabbing.
Lucerys Velaryon.
Aemond Targaryen’s nephew.
Several articles indicated Aemond Targaryen as a person of interest citing a childhood rivalry and -
Her fingers clicked out of the article.
She looked over to the man cuddling beside her.
Did she really know him?
She blinked away that thought. Her eyes settled onto the room. Her mind noted details. It was dark. The walls were coated black. His bed wasn’t high, but low. It was the easiest bed to get on for her tiny frame. He had no doors in his penthouse. Everything was open including the bathroom. She peeked in from the bed, seeing that instead of a mirror above his sink there was a painting of a beautiful landscape of a dark stormy night over a looming castle on a monstrous island filled with mountains.
There were no mirrored surfaces. She could even see from here that his kitchen was so bare. She decided to slowly wander over once Aemond entered REM. She felt his little lashes twitch against her backside. Her hips slipped out of his grasp easily though she could feel his exhale of hot breath at her back.
She ventured into the kitchen, nude and feeling out the rest of the penthouse. The little brunette had suspected his place to be spotless, but she could see now Aemond Targaryen had an organized mess. His books were not on his empty shelves, but instead piled at each side of his love seat. The titles were very much him, textbooks on history, books of maps, of business proposals, and titles on real estate.
On the counter top in his beautiful kitchen were a smattering of menus. Upon entering she could feel a sense of coldness there. Aemond had never been shy about his lack of cooking skills. Now she could see how truly bare the environment was. He had a smattering of greasy take away menus on the counter, folded and unfolded as if he had looked over them too many times. Each drawer she opened showed her the studio penthouse’s kitchen had never been touched.
Every utensil had a newness and shine to it that verged on disturbing. In the refrigerator laid takeaway leftovers, a case of beer, and a bottle of overpriced lemonade. In the freezer were microwaves meals, a stockpile as if he were preparing for an apocalypse. They nearly fell atop her when she opened it.
Her body, nude and slightly vulnerable, moved to the open walk in closet between the kitchen and living room.
No door.
No secrets.
It could be the reason he waited so long to bring her here.
Aemond Targaryen was a bare mess here. Her eyes faltered to his position in bed. He pulled the expensive silk sheets to his sweaty form. Her feet felt warm on the heated floor. He had bragged about installing it letting her mind wonder what it felt like to wiggle her toes on such warmth. Her hand flicked on the light.
It wasn’t the contents of the closet that struck her first.
Those were boring and unremarkable. She had seen his entire wardrobe at this point in their relationship. What she had not seen was the newspaper clippings that pressed firmly against the wall of the closet’s entryway. The articles were of take overs of large corporations from his father. There were articles that mentioned the name Aemond Targaryen, tabloids that talked about the day he lost his eye in a simple minded childhood fight with his nephew, Lucerys. In the middle of it all was a blown up article of the night his nephew died.
Every mention of Lucerys was underlined in red ink, over and over again.
He could not forget.
He could not forgive what was done to him.
“Naughty little girl.” She felt his weight against her back. His hand played with the bow loops around her neck. “Too curious for your own good. Hmmm . . .” His kiss was sloppy at her throat. Her eyes closed on instinct.
“Don’t act surprised.” The librarian was constantly looking for more information. The academic was always looking to learn. It’s what made them good together. It’s what made her terrified and aroused as he pinned her against the looming article on the wall.
“I don’t have to explain myself like some villain. You understand, my dear. You understand what needs to be done to you.”
There were two options.
Another article to the wall for discovering what she knew.
He was responsible for his nephew’s death.
Or . . .
“You can feel my choice right?”
His hand snaked between her legs to her soaked sex.
It didn’t matter what he had done.
She was too curious to find out more.
“Sir, the library is closing.” It was a soft tease on a summer Friday.
Aemond Targaryen looked up from his reading, no more studying.
Graduation was tomorrow.
He had on an expensive gold plated eyepatch. His silver dress shirt and pressed pants showed her he was ready for their evening out. Aemond now spent his time reading books she liked. She had given him a list. He was a fast reader and was nearly done with the several titles of what she deemed as classics. He loved talking to her about them, especially the non-fiction ones though there were not enough to his liking.
Her little mouth still frowned at his short hair, but he had insisted on a shorter look for his graduation.
A new start he had teased.
“I’m aware. I just need some assistance with an item.” He let the thick romance book snap closed.
Gods she hated that he didn’t use a bookmark.
The words were a beacon for her to follow. Her confidence with him had grown enough that she didn’t sheepishly look around her anymore. She followed him with a small spring in her step. He now was used to looking behind him for her, admiring her long pleated blue skirt and button up that had resewn buttons.
Aemond Targaryen loved pulling her little buttons off.
They were in a corner of the library. She instantly aware of why.
No cameras.
He pushed a metal step stool in the corner, never moving his hands.
“Up you go.” She obeyed.
The gesture was unfamiliar, but a fantasy he had spoken so many times. He looked her over for a moment, observing her on the stool. She could nearly hear his heart pounding with desire. They were eye to eye in this position, no longer was she a little meek thing looking up at him.
“You know what I want.”
“But it’s more fun if you take it.” Her response made him started to undo his pants.
The movement was quick as he took his fantasy into reality, fucking her in the corner of the library, no camera, no condoms, just pure desire. It might have taken him a moment or two to get his cock hard, but she barely noticed. She felt his spit coated cock rut inside her perfectly.
“You know what I’m going to do to you?” It was hardly a whispered question against her ear.
“I’m going to cum so hard inside you, you’ll be leaking my cum from your pussy until we get home.” He called his house their home even though she hadn’t moved in yet. “Then I’m going to fill you up again tonight and tomorrow and every night until I get bored. But you know I’ll never get bored of you, my dear.” She held back a whimper.
“Then you’ll move in at the end of the summer. I’ll keep you as my little whore and you’ll continue to be a good little librarian here.” He started to move faster. “I’ll marry you in a year’s time so I’ll truly be yours.” He loved being hers. “Then I’ll fuck this cunt up with baby after baby. I think four would be well within your threshold.” He palmed her belly. The thought of being full of his children made her bite her lip.
“You’ll be so happy. I’ll be so happy.” He grunted as if the thought of their shared happiness got him close to his orgasm. “I’ll work as a curator at a museum, preferably one with ancient weapons and about history. You’ll remain here, my little personal librarian. A mother. My little perfect wife.”
She was so close. She whispered his name.
“You’d like that, my dear. A family, love, discovering new things about each other every day. Would that sate your curious mind?”
“Yes . . .” It was so soft and wanting of the future, the future he imagined.
“Milk my cock then. Let it be the start of our future together.” He pounded into her making lewd noises in the corner.
Her mind felt white as she unraveled around him.
He gave her what he promised.
Not only his cum, but the promise of a future of curious behavior and his utter devotion.
In line with Valentine's Day falling in February, we're using this month to celebrate your favourite House of the Dragon ships - no, not vessels used for sailing, we're talking romance!
Each week in February we will be revealing a new prompt to inspire you to create something for your HotD ship of choice - this can be a fic, a gif set, a moodboard, artwork or illustration - anything you like! Our only stipulation is that you do not use AI to generate your submissions - any entries featuring the use of AI will not be reblogged by us.
We welcome all ships for the event - character x character, OC and self insert, so please don't feel restricted or ashamed by your choice - all ships can sail here!
Please tag your creations #vbbships so that we can track and reblog them.
Event schedule:
Feb 1st: Tropes
Feb 8th: Litsperation
Feb 15th: Friendships
Feb 22nd: Free Space
These prompt events are more chilled out and open than the official annual Big Bang event we run - there is no obligation to participate or create for all prompts, and absolutely no worries if you miss the deadlines - if you're a week or two behind, we'll still reblog your creations. People make better art and stories when they're relaxed!
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Characters : Aegon II Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen
Triggers warnings : None
Words count : 1011 words
Autor note : Submission for the first week of HOTD Big Bang's Ships Month (@hotd-bigbang). I plan to write some short stories with Helaegon, and the first of them was perfect for this week !
Tropes : Modern setting - Alternative Universe
(Credit goes to @thecutestgrotto)
Modern AU. Far away from their family, life is sweet and peaceful for Aegon, Helaena and their children. ▬ Chapter 1
3.47am. The bright red light of the alarm clock on the bedside table was a painful reminder of how late it was. It's late, so late. Far too late for him to still be awake, and yet... Aegon was there, comfortably tucked under the covers but with his eyes wide open, staring at the bedroom ceiling, unable to fall asleep. He simply couldn't. And the cause of his insomnia was lying beside him, sound asleep and completely indifferent to everything around her. Aegon counted the seconds, waiting patiently. It was going to happen. A sound echoed through the room, forcing him to clamp his hands over his mouth in a vain attempt to stop himself to burst out laughing in the middle of the night. Although resisting proved much more difficult than expected when another noise, much louder than the previous one, was heard a few seconds later.
He wasn't going to be able to hold it in any longer. Half-suffocated with laughter, unable to catch his breath properly, he climbed out of bed as quickly and discreetly as possible and fled towards the living room to give free rein to his hilarity, laughing so hard that tears of laughter rolled down his burning cheeks. Helaena was snoring. In itself, this was nothing to be ashamed of - after all, lots of people snored in their sleep. But this was Helaena ! Helaena, who snored, and snored loudly ! And that was the crux of the problem : if Helaena snored ‘discreetly’, Aegon could easily get past it and fall asleep without too much difficulty. But if Helaena was gentleness and kindness made woman when she was awake, once asleep, she visibly excelled in the art of imitating the kind of chainsaw used in sporting lumberjack competitions that he was so fond of watching whenever possible.
And those chainsaws were anything but discreet, so to have the impression of sleeping next to one of them... Aegon tucked a cushion under his head and unfolded the plaid that had been neatly folded on the back of the sofa to cover himself. There was definitely no way he could go back to his room, lie down beside Helaena and pretend nothing had happened. And since he seemed ‘doomed’ to end his night on the sofa, he might as well make himself as comfortable as possible. Oh sweet silence... Now that he had all the time in the world to enjoy it, now that his sleep was no longer in danger of suffering the slightest disturbance, fatigue was gradually creeping up on him. Like a reminder to his body that it was, after all, far too late to still be awake.
He woke up with the sweet smell of fresh coffee in his nostrils. A sweet smell itself accompanied by an equally pleasant sight : the smiling face of Helaena, comfortably seated in one of the armchairs, a huge mug in her hands. A second cup, smaller but still steaming, was waiting for him on the coffee table.
- Is everything all right? You weren't in bed when I got up this morning, but you were here when I came downstairs. I thought, perhaps, you fell ill during the night and came down here so as not to wake me, but fortunately you don't have the slightest semblance of a fever.
Uh-oh. Someone's in trouble. And that someone was him, Aegon. And he knew exactly why. Once the first sips of coffee had done their job of dissipating the last vestiges of sleep in him, he would have to be perfectly blind - or even totally stupid - not to see, not to realise, that his sister's smile wasn't as warm as it looked, not to perceive the slight intonation of irony in her voice. Of course, if he wasn't ill, what good reason could he have for leaving their bed in the middle of the night ? Using his coffee as the perfect excuse to remain silent, if only for a few moments longer, he weighed up the pros and cons. Of course, he considered that he had a more or less good reason for leaving the room in the middle of the night. But just this once. He couldn't really afford to leave the room every time. But what about Helaena ? He wasn't quite sure his explanation held water, even if he was telling the truth.
Besides, what would be the worst thing that could happen to him if his sister took it the wrong way ? Sleep on the sofa again ? If that was all - although he hoped Helaena wouldn't be too offended - well... He could easily do it again if he had no other choice. With a big smile on his face and his cup forgotten on the coffee table, Aegon reached out for Helaena's hand and pulled her against him when she took hold of it.
- Everything's fine, I promise I'm not ill or anything. Nevertheless... You're lucky I love you, because you're by far the noisiest person I've ever slept with. (He held back another laugh at the surprised look on his beloved's face.) To cut a long story short, and I'm sorry to break it to you like this... But you snore, my dear and sweet Helaena. And it's not an adorable snore like a kitten's or some baby animal's, but the ‘I've mastered the imitation of a Hot Saw to perfection’ snore. It's the truth, don't kill me for it, I love you.
And, just like that, he placed a quick kiss on the temple of his stunned companion before fleeing in the direction of the staircase leading upstairs. It wasn't all that, but he had to get ready for the day and then wake the twins for school. Behind his back, Helaena seemed to pull herself together just in time to try and throw a pillow at his head, which landed on one of the stairs instead. And Helaena laughed. She seemed to be taking it well, which meant he wouldn't have to sleep on the sofa any more. A great victory in itself.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
A/N: This just kinda happened. Not planned at all so here you go, have fun besties
Summary: You have been assigned by Queen Alicent and Ser Criston Cole to watch over the eldest son. However, you are not to be seen and you are not to interact with him.
“You need an heir, Aegon. A legitimate heir, not a bastard. You must marry soon,” Queen Alicent told her eldest son.
To Aegon, however, it was nonsense. He didn't want to marry. Well, at least marry purely to produce an heir. He was never one to believe in true love but when he met you all that changed.
Walking the Streets of Silk one night, you ran into the eldest prince, Aegon Targaryen. Like most nights, he was inebriated and had to walk with the help of his guards, but he seemed to have sobered up when he saw you. His back straightened, his eyes widened, and Aegon Targaryen was rendered speechless.
Aegon took in your beauty, your hair, your delicate hands, your mesmerizing face. “Why is a beauty like you running through the Streets of Silk?” he slurred.
One of your eyebrows shot up but quickly you schooled your face into one of calmness. He didn’t recognize you. Of course he didn’t, he was always too drunk to even register you. Whenever Aegon would venture into the streets at night you would always be behind him, making sure he never did anything too drastic as the future King, as per Queen Alicent’s request. You watched him lay with many women at the brothels, as painful as it was to you. You don’t know when, but at some point after the Queen sought out your help, you had fallen in love with the uncontrollable elder son of the Targaryens.
You bowed quickly, as you wanted to keep decorum while also not letting too many people know that the prince was here, not that he made himself quiet during these outings. “Why, thank you, my Prince. I am simply wandering the streets as you do.”
Prince Aegon cocked his head to the side. “You should not. This is no place for someone as…” he looked you up and down, “precious as you.”
“You consider me precious, my Prince?” you stifled a laugh.
Aegon took two strides to you and soon he was only a breath away. He smelled of alcohol and sex and yet you welcomed it with open arms. When his hand came up to cup your cheek, a shiver pulsed through you. Prince Aegon was intoxicating and you wanted more of him.
“Yes,” he whispered. “You are precious to me.”
In an attempt to back away, you instead found yourself pressed up against a wall. The guards who were keeping watch over Aegon did nothing to remove him from you. They did what they always did: watch.
You tried to reason with him to get this foolish notion out of his head. “You do not even know me, my Prince. And I do not know you.”
The last sentence was a lie and you knew it. You knew Aegon like the back of your hand.
“You seem…familiar to me,” Aegon mused. “Perhaps I should entertain you somewhere else?”
As much as you wanted to deny him, to tell him no, you knew it would be useless. Useless because he was the crown prince and because you would do anything for him, even if it meant breaking your own heart.
If it were even possible, you moved closer to him. “I know a place we could go, but it must be alone. Your guards would not be allowed.”
He dropped the hand that was one your cheek. “Allowed? They are my guards, they go wherever I tell them to.”
“Then it is your choice, my Prince. Come with me, alone, or let me go.”
Aegon looked back and forth between you and his guards. His guards did not make any suggestion as to what he should do but simply stared at the two of you.
Aegon grunted. “You. I choose you.” He turned to his guards. “You are dismissed."
One of the guards stepped close. “But, my Prince, we are on strict orders to keep your watch.”
“You leave me alone when I am fucking the whores. This is no different.”
The guards shifted their feet and muttered something about agreeing before leaving you two be.
For a moment you stood there, Aegon trapping you between him and the wall. Staring up at him, you took in his beautiful violet eyes. They were always so intense, you could find them anywhere. However, there had always been a hint of brokenness to them. Something hurt him long ago that he could never get back, never heal from.
You coughed. “Let me take you to this place.” You pushed him back slightly to get around him only to turn back around and offer him your hand. “Do you trust me?”
Instead of answering, Aegon took your hand.
The next time Aegon found you was when he was wandering the castle, no end in sight; no goal. When he saw you he had to rub his eyes to make sure that he was not seeing a hallucination. It could not be you, yet here you were, the beauty from the Streets of SIlk. The precious one.
You were walking to your meeting place with Queen Alicent and Ser Criston Cole to give them an update of Aegon and how he has been faring on his nights out. So far it has all been the same. Lots of debauchery and stupid decisions but nothing yet too damaging to the Crown.
“You!” Aegon’s voice cut through the hallway.
Immediately, you turned and bowed. “Yes, my Prince?”
There was a crazed look in his eyes. He was disheveled and looked as though he got little sleep. You knew that last half was a fact, though. He spent his whole night drinking and barely made it to his own bed before first light.
He was quick to start questioning you. “Why are you here? How are you here?”
Lying to him would have been the smart decision but you could not bring yourself to do so. “I am here to meet with the Queen and Ser Criston Cole. I am to update them about my findings.”
“And what are these findings?” Aegon pushed.
Avoiding his gaze, you looked at the ground. “You.” Clearing your throat you made yourself look into his eyes. “The Queen tasked me to watch you each night you went out. That first night we met was no coincidence but rather a failing on my part. You were never to know I was following you, that I was even there.”
“Then why are you telling me now?”
“Because I can not lie to you, my Prince.”
“Everyone lies to me, my beauty. You would be no different.”
“The difference,” you started, “is that I care about you and do not wish to keep things from you.” You huffed. “Now, you must excuse me, I am late to meet with the Queen.”
Aegon watched you briskly walk off. He stared at your retreating form, in complete awe. He had a feeling someone else was always watching over him but never would think it would be you, his beauty. Following your trail, he was careful not to be seen by any other guards who would alert others of his presence. Pressing up against a wall, Aegon neared the door you went through. The door did not fully close, allowing him to catch the conversation between you, his mother, and Ser Criston.
“You revealed yourself to him?” Queen Alicent said hurriedly. “How could you do such a thing?”
“He found me first,” you said calmly. “But I could not find it in myself to lie to him. He asked why I was here and I told him.”
Ser Criston sighed. “Have we been compromised, then? Are you unable to fulfill your duties?”
Your back straightened. “No, Ser. I am still capable.”
“Even if it means lying to my son?” Alicent’s eyes were sharp.
She was known to be kind but at this moment you felt as though you were being trapped.
You swallowed. “Yes.”
“You will continue your duty of watching over him but you are forbidden to interact with him anymore, am I clear?” Ser Criston asked. “We can not have fully armored guards around him all day, which is why we have you.”
“Yes, I will be more discreet." You bowed your head in compliance.
“And you are not to interact with him. That is very important. We must push him in the direction of finding a suitable bride, not towards the brothels,” added Queen Alicent.
You were surprised. You did not think they would be so worried about him finding a suitable bride so soon. Unable to keep the question to yourself, you asked them, “Why does he need to find a bride now?”
The Queen stiffened and looked around. “The King is sick, my dear,” she whispered, “and Aegon is the next in line. He needs a queen to be by his side and to bear his heir.”
“I…I see.”
Ser Criston came forward. “Does this information worry you?”
“Only in that I am concerned for the King, nothing else.”
Ser Criston narrowed his eyes but nodded in accepting your answer.
At this point your hands have gone clammy and you needed some air. Aegon was to be looking for a queen, a wife. You were not someone who could be his and it broke your heart. But it would not stop you from loving him.
The next few times Aegon went out at night he did not venture to the brothel, despite it being his usual haunt. Instead he found himself looking for you. He overheard the conversation you had with his mother and Ser Criston but refused for you to become invisible to him. That one moment, that one night he found you, he had fallen in love with you. He was awed by you. You were his beauty and he would take no one else but you to be his wife. He kept trying to lure you out by putting himself in danger but it never worked. Aegon could feel you though. He knew you were here, always here, watching him.
While you watched Aegon go through his life, you stayed content in the back. You did notice, however, that he no longer frequented the brothels. Instead he was looking around, looking for you, you soon realized. But you could not. You could not go to him. Ser Criston forbade you from interacting with the Prince so that is the way it must be. Always at the ready, you were there for him, for Aegon.
“I CAN NOT DO THIS ANYMORE!” Aegon yelled as he threw an empty goblet at the wall. He slumped back into his chair, wanting nothing more than to be with you.
Of course, you were there, hidden. You wanted nothing more than to go out and comfort the Prince but you knew you could not. So, instead, you sat there, in the crowd, and watched as the Prince threw a tantrum in the tavern.
A madame from the brothel next door sauntered over to him. “Perhaps one of my girls could calm you down?”
“No,” Aegon growled. “I want no one else.”
And with that he stormed out of the tavern, his guards at his heels, and you right behind them.
At some point you had lost sight of Aegon and his guards. Cursing yourself, you slowed down to a walk but kept your eyes and ears open for any sign of Prince Aegon.
Suddenly, you felt the presence of someone around you. “Show yourself!” you said as you unsheathed a dagger that was strapped on your thigh underneath your dress. Looking around, you saw no one but knew in your heart someone was there. You continued to walk, dagger at the ready, when a hand covered your mouth and another pulled you back against a wall.
Fear slammed your head. You tried to stab your attacker but they were well at avoiding your attempts. Although you were tasked with watching over Aegon, you were never trained on how to protect him, much less yourself.
A soft voice flowed from the mouth of your attacker. “Be still, my beauty.”
You halted at his command. No one called you beauty. No one called you theirs. No one but him.
“I will release you but you must be quiet. I do not know how long I can avoid my guards,” Aegon said quickly.
Nodding your head, you agreed to be quiet while Aegon released his hold on you.
“I am not supposed to be with you, Aegon!” you whisper shouted.
Aegon huffed. “I know. I listened to the meeting you had with my mother and Ser Criston a while ago.”
“You did what?” you were in shock.
“I could not help myself. I wanted to know what was going to happen to you. Because…” Aegon took a deep breath. “Because I can not stay away from you.”
“No,” you felt tears desiring to push through. “You must find a good high born lady to be with you.”
“If I am to be the King then I can change who I must be with. And it is you I want you to be my queen, to be my wife. I want you to carry our children.” He brought a hand to your waist and a hand to your cheek. “I choose you. We can marry, quickly and quietly and all will be done and then no one can hurt you.”
“What about your mother? Ser Criston Cole?” you asked. “There will be consequences for this kind of action!” You pressed your forehead against his but quickly pulled away.
“Consequences be damned! I want you!” He gripped you tighter.
It should have scared you, how much Prince Aegon wanted you, but it did not. Instead, it made you want him more.
You closed your eyes. “Show me. Show me you want me as your queen.”
Almost immediately, Aegon crashed his lips against yours. He was just as soft as you had dreamed. While his lips were soft, however, his actions were very possessive. He held you tight, refusing to let go. Another hand skimmed over your body, urging you to drop the dagger onto the ground next to you. He moved from your mouth to kiss your jaw and down your neck.
“Beautiful, all the sounds you make. The way you taste. You are my beauty,” Aegon said as he kissed you.
He brushed his hand over the top of your breasts and you arched into his touch.
“I know you want me just as much as I want you,” he whispered. He moved his hand under the skirt of your dress and dragged a finger up your thigh. “If I were to touch you there would I find you wet and wanting?” The hand that was on your breast went up around your throat.
You relished it, being dominated by this man. “Yes. I’m wet for you and only you.”
“Hmm. Good.”
That was all that was said before Aegon plunged a finger inside you.
“More, please,” you begged the Prince.
“Ah, my beauty wants more? Of course I shall give her more.” He added in a second and then a third finger into your heat.
Your eyes rolled back as he started rubbing your pearl with his thumb. Rocking against his hand, you pushed for your climax. You wanted, no, needed, all of him.
“Aegon, I want all of you,” you pleaded.
“And you will,” he said between kissing and nipping on your neck. “Once we are married we will consummate it immediately.”
You held Aegon close as you writhed against him. His violet eyes were intense as he watched you come undone on his hand. When you had regained your breath, he slowly pulled out his fingers and sucked each one clean.
“Divine,” Aegon whispered. “You are mine, now and forever. My beauty.”
Waking up in the Prince’s bed had always been a dream of yours but this time it was not merely a dream, it was reality. Your body was sore in the most wonderful of ways. As you lay there, you recalled the previous night. Aegon finding you in the streets. Him taking you to your climax by only using his fingers. Finding the septon to marry you two under the eyes of the Seven. And lastly, falling into bed with the most beautiful man you have ever met; a man you would do anything for.
Turning your head, you took in the beautiful man asleep next to you. His hair was disheveled and he looked exhausted but he also looked at peace. In all the nights you had followed him, you had never seen him at peace. This is the first time he seemed content.
His eyelids fluttered open, as though he could sense you staring at him.
“Good morning, my wife.” Aegon smiled.
“Good morning, my lord husband.” You could not help the smile that graced your face as well.
Aegon brought a hand up to cup your cheek, just like he had done many times before. “You are mine, now and forever, my beauty. No one shall break us apart. Not my mother, not Ser Criston.”
Leaning into his touch, you took in his words as a promise and you know it was one he would not break.
“AEGON!” Queen Alicent’s voice was piercing. “You married her? The one who was to keep watch over you? Without informing us?”
Aegon sat up in bed, not caring for his nudity in front of his mother. You, on the other hand, tried to cover up the best you could.
“I do not wish to be set up with some boring highborn lady. I wanted her so I married her,” Aegon said simply.
Ser Criston Cole walked into the room and stared directly at you. You could not help but shrink away from his gaze.
“And you will not do anything to my wife. She is mine to protect and to love and she will carry my babes.”
Underneath the covers, you moved your hand to hold onto Aegon’s. He gave you a reassuring squeeze as he continued to talk to Queen Alicent and Ser Criston Cole.
“You do not get a say in who I marry.”
Queen Alicent scoffed. “Well, now we do not. You already went ahead without asking for a blessing.” She rubbed her temples. “Why did you even do this, Aegon?”
“Because I love her.”
The Queen sighed. “If you love her…then I guess all will be fine.”
“Fine?” Ser Criston finally said. “This is not fine, she went against orders, my Queen.”
“Yes, she did, but we are unable to touch her. And I do not see much that is wrong other than disobeying your orders. She is not a threat to us.”
You pipped up. “I assure you, I am not. I only wish to love Aegon with my heart and to bear his children when the time comes.”
Queen Alicent gave Ser Criston a knowing look. “They are simply in love. Was it reckless? Yes. Was it necessary? Not really. Was it done out of love? Yes, and for that I will allow it. I did not get to marry out of love, but rather out of duty. While I wish my children would do their duty, I will not stop them from finding love.”
Aegon nodded. “Thank you, mother.”
“You are welcome, my son.”
You noticed that Aegon’s cheeks flared when she called him that. It was something that was rarely said with love and yet here, it was.
“Now,” Alicent clasped her hands together. “Since your marriage was rather quiet last night, it must now be proclaimed and celebrated today.”
You sat at a grand table with Aegon by your side. You were dressed in the most delicate and beautiful of dresses. Earlier you had been paraded around by Aegon. He was eager to talk all about his wife and how precious she was to him. Even Aegon’s younger brother and sister came to talk to you and welcomed you into the family.
Many were surprised that Aegon married so quickly. He was not known to be one who might settle down with someone. Yet here he was, with you next to him.
Aegon looked at you and brought your hand to his lips. He brushed his lips against your knuckle. “My beauty.”
Trope: Modern, Mafia AU
Pairing: Otto x Viserys
Author's Note: This was not how I was meant to make my debut into HOTD fanfic Tumblr My entry for BigBang Week One!! (only a little late whoops)
Warnings: old men flirting??, alcohol mention, arson mention, mafia stuff idk, that's quite literally it
Word Count: 2k
Summary: Viserys Targaryen, the well-known mafia don, has to explain to his personal lawyer Otto Hightower once again how he's ended up in legal trouble.
The large wall comprised of nothing but windows behind Viserys glittered with the sights of the city far below. The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, a drastic change from the early afternoon sky that had been shining overhead when Otto first arrived. The leather desk chair that Viserys sat in creaked as he moved, handing over several more pieces of paper for Otto’s inspection, pieces of evidence that needed to be reviewed and decided upon.
This was meant to be a simple case. Not that anything was simple when working for the Targaryens, but that’s where Otto’s reputable talent came into play. Viserys Targaryen, despite his open-secret status as the most powerful don in the city of King’s Landing, had never been accused of a crime. Money, bodies, drugs, all simply disappeared without a trace, and Viserys retained his impunity.
When the call mentioned no deaths, no illicit goods, and no senseless violence, Otto had almost dared himself to believe this would be an easy paycheck. How idiotic of him, with hindsight.
He rubbed a hand over his face, sinking further into his chair.
“Okay,” he said, sighing heavily as he sat up again. “Run this by me again, alright? So your brother—”
“Daemon.”
“Daemon,” Otto repeated, feeling his blood pressure gradually rising, even as his face remained impassive. Years of listening to the stupidest men that had somehow been allowed to don judiciary robes had trained him for this moment. “His girlfriend—”
“Mysaria.”
“Right. Mysaria burned down the laundromat, because…?”
“It was an accident,” Viserys answered. “At least, Daemon said it was an accident.”
He followed his statement with a tug at the end of his cuffed sleeve. For a mafioso—for a don—he was surprisingly open with his emotions, letting stress tighten the muscles in his jaw and brow. Daemon’s story was as believable as pigs flying, and it was obvious that Viserys knew it too.
“And then Daemon urged you to file the insurance claim.” Otto’s eyes flitted over the notes beside him. “And you did, because he led you to believe that he had nothing to do with it.”
Viserys looked disgruntled at the plain way in which Otto stated his stupidity—no, Otto reminded himself, his blindness to his brother’s actions.
A blindness that led to the most obvious case of insurance fraud that Otto had ever seen, the man would add. A blindness that needed to be addressed, should Viserys have any desire to continue his life and legacy of organized crime.
“Yes,” Viserys said eventually, rising from his desk. Otto watched as the other man stood, moving to pour himself a rather full glass of whiskey. Viserys chugged it down in three quick gulps, before pouring himself another. “Would you like a drink, Otto?” he offered once the second was half-empty.
“No, thank you. I don’t drink with clients.”
Viserys hummed in acknowledgement, making no attempt to push it. Their relationship was entirely professional, no matter how many years they had known one another, or how many prison sentences Otto had managed to bail him out of.
Any stolen glances that Otto may have taken when his client was distracted were entirely professional. Nothing more.
“I’ll be entirely honest with you, Mr. Targaryen, as I know you’re a competent man. This case is so cut-and-dry that there’s no way for you to get out of this without implicating your brother.”
“Absolutely not.” Viserys waved a hand, hoping to brush the idea away with the wind. “He’s my brother, despite his flaws, and I won’t throw him at the mercy of litigious vultures.”
The litigious vulture across from Viserys raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid you might not have a choice. The cameras across the street caught the entire thing. The only way I could convince a jury that this fire wasn’t set purposefully is if they were blind and deaf.”
A loud sigh escaped Viserys as he leaned back in his armchair. He polished off the second glass of whiskey, his eyes settling on Otto over the rim.
“Y’know, Otto, I don’t know all that much about you,” the man mused, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Even though we’ve been working together for, what, fifteen years?”
“Sixteen,” Otto corrected, “and that is by design, if I must be honest.”
Viserys chuckled. “Surely you know you’re as safe as can be around me. Wouldn’t do to dispose of the main person keeping me from a cell, would it?”
The older man was unconvinced. “I keep business and personal life separate.”
“So do I. Consider this small talk between two business partners.”
Otto leaned back in the seat, listening to the leather armchair creaking beneath him. It sounded as tired as he felt. “Fine.”
“So?”
Otto’s gaze flicked over the man warily. “There’s not much to say. My son graduated recently. He says he hopes to follow me to law school.”
“Ah.” Viserys smiled, and his affection seemed genuine. “My Rhaenyra has kept me busy since the school year began.”
Otto knew of Rhaenyra. Her name had come up in court documents before, and Viserys had often tried to commiserate over the shared trials and tribulations of having a teenaged daughter. In Otto’s professional opinion, Rhaenyra sounded spoiled rotten; Viserys once complained of having to buy her rottweiler some sort of heart charm for her collar
Ridiculous.
“She’s very close with her uncle,” Viserys continued. “She’d be upset to hear that I let him get arrested.”
Otto felt the corner of his eye twitch with the effort it took for him to restrain a roll of his eyes. “I understand that, Mr. Targaryen, but the fact of the matter is—”
“That my brother is a reckless idiot with poor taste in women,” Viserys interrupted. “Spare me the details, Otto. I know.”
Viserys stood again, moving back to the liquor cabinet. The sleeves of his jacket tugged at his arms, revealing the cuff of his satin shirt as he reached for a wine from a shelf along the top. Otto’s eyes ran the length of the other man’s body, noticing the fine tailoring of the suit. Every aspect of it, from shirt to the shoes, were picked and sized perfectly; perhaps even custom ordered. There was no doubt that Viserys had the money to afford it.
A wine glass was placed on Otto’s side of the desk, earning him a reproachful look from the lawyer.
It was incredibly tempting, Otto had to admit. This wasn’t the first time he had been called to deal with a problem caused by Daemon, and he doubted it would be the last.
The wine went down smooth, something that would no doubt cost a small fortune despite the way that Viserys didn’t blink twice at sharing it with his lawyer. Not that Otto was particularly complaining; he had never been one to waste money on such frivolous things, but he would also never refuse the other man’s ostentatious offer.
The smile on Viserys’ lips was quickly hidden by his own sip of wine.
“It was a gift.”
Otto simply stared at Viserys as he waited for an explanation.
“The wine,” the other man continued. “It was a gift. I’ve had it forever, but…” His shrug wasn’t as nonchalant as Otto would have expected.
“But no time to open it like a meeting with your lawyer?” Otto offered, earning a chuckle from Viserys.
“Precisely.” His hand moved to loosen the knot in his tie, causing Otto’s gaze to dart away. The last thing he needed was to give his client the wrong impression by letting his eyes wander at the wrong moment.
Or the right moment, depending on Otto’s mood.
“So, Mr. Hightower, what does a lawyer do when he’s not busy saving men from the justice system?”
A hum was Otto’s reply. He always did his best to maintain the kind of privacy a top-grade therapist would be proud of, but the feeling of heavy resignation in the air compelled him to open his mouth. Maybe if he shared a little about himself, he could further convince Viserys that he was choosing the best course of action.
“When I’m not hauling Alicent around to her practices?” he said, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. “I suppose I like to read. I’ve been trying to teach Alicent chess.”
Viserys said nothing. Otto sighed and continued, searching his mind for something that may interest the both of them, a leaping point into getting Viserys’ final agreement to build the case the way he needed.
“And I have a wine tasting event this weekend.”
That made Viserys’ eyes light up, his body leaning forward to rest an elbow on the desk, his chin resting upon the back of his hand. “Wine tasting? Really? I thought you didn’t drink.”
“I don’t drink with clients,” Otto corrected. The glass in his hand felt heavier with the realization. “...usually.”
“Where are you going for this wine tasting?”
Otto’s brow pinched together, pausing for an imperceptible moment. “The Ice Wall.”
“Bah!” Viserys slumped back in his chair like a string above his head had been snipped, his head shaking at Otto’s words. “You disappoint me, Otto. I thought you had better taste in bars than places like the Ice Wall.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s shite.”
In truth, he had been invited to the wine tasting by his brother, and he hadn’t found an adequate reason to say no. To hear Viserys so openly condemn the choice, however, had him feeling oddly defensive.
“It’s a fine place.”
“It’s not.” Viserys smiled, attempting to bring a levity to his words that made Otto inwardly roll his eyes. “If you settle for ‘fine’, you should come to one of my places. It’ll make you regret ever praising that hovel.”
This was quickly approaching a line that felt dangerous—if not for Otto’s business practices, then his personal life.
“One of your places?” he heard himself ask. “Are you inviting me, then?”
The grin that stretched across Viserys’ face didn’t feel entirely innocent. “Of course. You’ve done good work for the last sixteen years, as you reminded me. Perhaps it’s time I gave you a free drink. Or five.”
The papers on the desk rustled as Viserys pushed them aside, mumbling to himself as he began to search through his desk drawers.
“Ah, here we are.” He extended two business cards, earning another frown from Otto as the dark haired man slowly reached out to take them.
One was black, with a red dragon curling across the top of the card. The letters across it read Dragon’s Dance. The other one was white with blue lettering, proudly advertising The High Tide.
“High Tide is older. Bit of a hole in the wall, really, but the drinks are strong. The Dragon’s Dance is nicer, but the clientele is more…unusual.”
Something told Otto that the smirk Viserys wore when he said that was not an accident.
“Right.” He cleared his throat, dropping the cards into his breast pocket. “Well—”
Whatever Otto had intended to reply with, the polite rejection and attempt to redirect the conversation, was lost when the wine glass slipped through his fingers and poured directly onto his white dress shirt.
He leapt to his feet, cursing under his breath as the scent of alcohol overpowered his nose. He could feel the liquid seeping through the waist of his pants, his patience immediately stalling as frustration overtook him.
“I need to leave,” he said, moving to his briefcase.
Viserys nodded, looking almost disappointed that their conversation had been cut so abruptly. “Right. I’ll speak to Daemon, call you with the details.”
Otto nodded as he packed up his briefcase, only half-listening. The papers were shoved inside with little care for order or neatness, the locks narrowly missing his finger as he snapped it shut.
His hand was on the handle when Viserys spoke again.
“I hope to see you this weekend, Otto.”
He grunted in reply, wrenching open the door and leaving the room. His heart pounded in his chest, and he had a feeling it wasn’t only with frustration.
God above. What was that? What was he getting himself into? And why was he tempted to go?
