Ok But The Cracking The Headboard? He Growls- Frankie Most Definitely Growls And Snarls When He Comes

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry – the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

MASTERLIST

stevesharrlngtons masterlist

 finally making this bitch! stories, drabbles and headcanons for billy hargrove, steve harrington, nancy wheeler.

Keep reading

You’re My Best Friend Series

Summary: Javier and you had been best friends since Kindergarten, and you’d been secretly in love with him for years. The night before his wedding to Lorraine, you sleep together, sparking him to leave Lorraine, and you. Ten years later Javier returns home before leaving again for Cali and tries to fix the mess he left. But, passions run high and alcohol flows and you can’t resist falling back in to bed with him, the only thing you didn’t plan was ending up married to him.

This story is told in a series of Flashbacks and follows the events of Season 3 of Narcos when Javi returns to Colombia to take down the Cali Cartel.  

Moodboard made by my darling friend/amazing writer @ghostwiththemostbitch​ 

Pairing: Javier Peña x F! Reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 

Chapter 6 

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9 

Javi x Bestie Asks (You’re My Best Friend Universe)

How Bestie Got into Flowers

Passing Notes in Class

Javi x Bestie Questions

Questions Part 2

Rebellious

Javi & Bestie getting drunk

Watching a Sports Game

Skipping Class

Besties First Boyfriend

Getting Stuck in the Library  

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

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Oblivious | young!Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You can’t seem to wrap your head around Sirius’ change of behaviour.

Prompt: #6, “What are you doing?” “Avoiding.” “Avoiding what?”, and #7, “Everything.““I’m in love with you, you idiot!”.

Request: by @rainandhotchocolate

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: /

Word Count: 887

Keep reading

The Art She Loved Masterlist

Series Rating: Mature

Chapter One

Chapter Two 

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten 

Chapter Eleven

the sweetest taboo

pairing: frankie ‘catfish’ morales x f!reader

warnings: SMUT - oral (f receiving), somewhat rough sex, a little dirty talk

a/n: so here it is. i told y’all i would write something because this gif gave me ideas about not-so-soft frankie.

You can’t remember the last time Frankie had been this needy. His lips and teeth are on every inch of exposed skin they can find before you can close the door properly. He snatches his cap off, frustrated with it getting in the way of him getting to you.

“Frankie baby,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. “Let’s go upstairs…” He sucks on a particularly sensitive part of your neck and your knees buckle.

“Mm mm,” he grunts against your skin.

“What?”

“Huh?” He finally pulls away from you looking simply disheveled—pupils blown wide, hair a mess from you running your fingers through it, and breathing as if you had taken his breath away.

“What’s gotten into you?” you tease, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

He moves in on you again, this time capturing your lips. His tongue swirls with yours expertly, reminding you of just what else he can do with it. “Want you,” he breathes.

“I can tell…” You smile at him as you pull the shirt out from where it’s tucked into his jeans—the khaki ones he loves so much. “Got any blood left in that head up there or has it already all traveled to the other?”

Keep reading

𝐋𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

シ - smut

all series have a mix of smut, angst, and fluff

𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙎

princess and the prince ; loki courts an innocent princess into being his one and only.

fire and ice ; loki is cold hearted compared the firecracker avenger that has stolen his heart, they are complete opposite. somehow, they fit.

guilty pleasures ; loki sneaks around with the avengers’ lawyer, who also just happens to be tony stark’s daughter.

𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙏𝙎

nsfw abcs ; down and dirty with the god of mischief シ

matters of the heart ; surgical attending!loki decides to finally give his resident admirer everything she ever wantedシ

𝘽𝙇𝙐𝙍𝘽𝙎/𝙃𝙀𝘼𝘿𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙉𝙎

loki teaching chaotic!dumbass!reader magic

telling loki you’re pregnant

aftercare with loki

loki falls in love with a mortal

you’re to marry thor, but love loki

loki cuddles you when you’re sick

loki when he has a nightmare

loki’s feeling touchstarved

you do eyeliner on loki

loki comforts you about your body

loki gets pranked

loki gets jealous of bucky

you please your king like a good pet

loki + tony’s lab assistant

revenge sex with loki

jotün!loki + size kink

serial killer!loki visits his ex

Billy Hargrove - Fic Recommendations

Main Rec Masterlist

@deathvalleyusa

Sugar Sugar -> Chrissy tries not to expect anything from Billy on Valentine’s Day. Billy manages to surprise her.

@gutterdreams -> masterlist

peacekeeper part 1 -> Your relationship is great. It’s just your boyfriend’s dad that’s the problem.

@stevesharrlngtons

sin bin -> billy’s two favorite things were as listed: you, and hockey

slow responses -> volleyball, a rivalry, a head injury and a worried boyfriend.

@strangerstuffandthingsimagines

Birds of prey mini series

Birds of prey -> Billy had every intention of dropping Tommy H after senior year, that is until he meets the other H sibling.

Morning dove -> Sneaking around becomes more and more difficult for Billy and the Reader, especially when they are right under Tommy’s nose.

Blue jay -> The reader takes Billy to the Sadie Hawkins dance at her school, although both have other things on their minds.

The Inky Green Council

[ series masterlist at end ]

prompt: the Greens gather and make their first move. you’re the inky black spot in a sea of emerald.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.6k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, whatever else, not edited! canon-level incest, violence, dialogue, basically the whole of episode nine, author is also slightly confused 'cause she's working backwards. ❗️major season one, episode nine spoilers

🔞 none of the following content is appropriate for minors 🔞 ❌ all taglists are discontinued❌

"Gods be fucking good!"

"Don't stop! C'mon, my Dragon, get there! Get there!"

"'S too much, love! Shit!"

"Bit longer - almost there!"

"Oh, fuck! C'mon!"

"THERE!" You grinned in triumph, pausing to pant when the new chase lounge was properly in place beneath the window. Aemond panted heavily after doing most of the lifting, almost glaring at you but you saw the amusement beneath his facade.

"You're sure?" He asked, slumping into the side of the lounge.

"Yep," you nodded at him, hands to your hips with pride as you looked at the new arrangement. "Or perhaps it would look better over there?" Aemond groaned your name with reprimand, making you giggle. "I am only jesting, love, I like it where it is, under the window!"

"Good, good, 'cause 's not moving again," he sighed as he dropped into the cushioned seat. He looked around for a moment, stroking the imported velvet, chuckling lightly, "You know, I must admit, kinda glad you talked me into this material."

"See?" You smiled at him, taking the comfortable position on your husband's lap - where the arm of the chase cradled your back and his ribcage; letting your legs rest across his lap as his arm wrapped around your shoulder blades. "Nice, isn't it?"

He sighed with defeat, "It is."

"Do not sound so grumpy, you can admit I had a good idea that you're actually liking," you teased him, arms moving to lock around his neck. "Hmm? C'mon, let me hear you say it."

Aemond chuckled, "It was a good idea, my love. Nicely done."

"Thank you," you chirped, leaning in to peck his smirking lips. "Just wait until you fuck me on it - there's plenty of positions on this piece of furniture alone. You're welcome in advance."

"Is that why it's shaped as it is?"

"Mhm," you hummed with a smirk. "It'll come in handy when I'm heavier with child."

"Why wait to test it, then?" He smirked, leaning in to trap your lips in a kiss. He hummed with satisfaction, savoring the taste of you after a long day and night.

"Because it is late, my sweet," you whined, letting him kiss you again.

"But you look delectable, my Princess," he purred, tugging your hips easily to swivel so you sat forward on him. His own lifted to allow you room; both readjusting to the new position of your straddle. Aemond sighed and let his hands drift to your stomach. "You're truly sure? This is not some dream we are sharing?"

"I would not have told everyone if I wasn't sure," you nodded, hands softly laying over his. "I've known for longer than I care to admit."

"You did not wish to tell me?"

"It's not that," you sighed. "I just worried myself for nothing. I let my own thoughts get the best of me, I know it was wrong. But the Maester told me something that I could not rid from my mind."

"Would you like to clue me in, or must we first play a guessing game?" He whispered with a smirk, chuckling lowly.

You scooted forward so your hips were pressed together, but kept his hands on your waist. He let his hands drift to caress your lower belly, and you admitted, "Apparently... If a woman is to lose a babe in the womb, it is usually often within the first three months of conception. So, I did not wish to tell you in case something happened and I... And I lost the babe. I don't think I could handle telling you I was with child, and then lost that child, Aemond."

Aemond's brows furrowed, making you reach up to caress his cheek. "But what if you had lost them, pet? I wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been able to help you."

"I don't know if you or I can help what happens," you whispered. "At this point, it's all internal and by the fate of the Gods. If you'd like, perhaps we could visit the Maester in the morning and we can discuss possibilities?"

"There are more?"

"There are many symptoms that even I did not know about," you chuckled lightly, reaching back to release his eye patch. You caressed his cheek with one hand as the other pulled the leather strap away, letting it fall to the cushion beside you both.

"Like what?" He sighed, doing better about being completely bare with you. It wasn't an overnight thing, and through your marriage, Aemond often waned in his comfort at letting you see his scars.

He was doing much better now, thankfully.

"Well, like, insomnia - "

"The bloody hell is that?"

"Thought you were the educated brother," you teased gently, leaning in to peck his lightly-pouting lips. "It is a new term, my love, even the Grand Maester was nervous to use it. But it in essence means trouble sleeping - either falling asleep, staying asleep, or both."

"Well, whenever my love needs a nap, she'll have one," he promised with a tease, pecking your lips.

"And there's accounts of nightmares," you pouted.

"Hmm," he considered for a moment. "Then you shall never sleep alone. I would not let you endure this by yourself."

You smiled at him. "And when I'm feeling bloated, and I'm having cramps or feeling gassy? With nosebleeds? When my skin turns to that of a young lad's? Not to mention I'll have heightened senses of smells, taste, touch..."

He shrugged, "You act as if I am going to turn away from you. You're creating life, my sweet girl. Whatever you need, I'm here for - even if that's just laying in bed and complaining. I'm okay with it."

You pouted dramatically at him, "How can you be real?"

His eyes rolled, "Well, 's not like you got pregnant by yourself, is it? Least I can do is be here for you. I cannot bare this weight for you," his hands caressed your stomach again, but with meaning, "but I will walk this path with you at whatever capacity you'd like. Ask it of me, pet, and you will have it."

"Careful, husband, or I might get used to your spoiling."

You grinned when Aemond blanched at you, hands dropping to bounce on the material of the chase lounge you sat on. "This wasn't spoiling enough to convince you? What of the gems that I wrap around your neck, hmm?" He let a hand drift up to pet a fingertip along your collarbone. "Do they convince you?"

"In honest, I think I prefer your hand, actually," you teased, taking hold of his wrist to guide him; where his finger naturally curled around your neck to press to your pulse points.

"Makes for a pretty necklace. But I prefer those pearls I got you."

"Oh," you gasped, pulling his hand away as he laughed at your change of attention, "those are exquisite - I should wear them more often!"

"You should," he agreed. "Now, are you truly tired? Or do you have more furniture we need to move?"

"You say that like I was the one who made the late-night delivery," you scoffed gently at him, watching his lips spread in a grin. "But be serious for a moment with me?"

He nodded in agreement, clearing his throat, "All right, about what, my sweet wife?"

"Seeing the Maester with me," you sighed. "We can both hear what he's to say about pregnancy, and perhaps, we can ask Helaena together about her own experience."

"I know parts of what to expect," he sighed.

"But then we'll know in full - eliminates surprises, right?"

"He'd still be at our call should we worry," he grumbled, letting his head lean back with a sigh. His eye closed and you leaned forward to nuzzle under his chin. "We'll seek him out in the morning, pet."

"Thank you," you whispered, turning your chin up so you could peck the underside of his own. "Does that mean bed?"

"Hmmm," he considered, but otherwise didn't move. So you didn't, either. His arms tightened, and you snuggled closer to let your thighs squeeze his hips in a hug. "All right," he finally relented, "you sure you don't want to break this new thing in?"

You chuckled, "Can I be on top?"

"Oh, you devilish woman - c'mere," he barked a quick laugh, using his hips to jut you upwards; one hand catching your cheek to guide your lips in for a soul-sucking kiss.

•

"No, no, no, no, Aemond, no, no, no, wait, no, wait, Gods damn it, why must you have the longest bloody legs!?" You leapt off the exam table, sparing a glare to the Grand Maester - who had just offered condolences on Aemond's Father's passing, which made the Prince spur from the room. "Aemond, wait! Hang on! Sweetheart? Hey - wait! No, just hang on, wait!" You begged, grabbing your outer dress on your pursuit after your husband. He was quick in his strides and his hands had formed into fists, making you yank the sleeves of your dress on but otherwise leave it as you reached for him. "Wait!"

"For what?" He demanded sharply, rounding around on you suddenly. You reared back a step or two - needing a second to readjust as you were not often on the receiving end of his anger.

"What the hell's happening?"

"What the hell is the bloody Maester on about!?" He countered. "You heard the same as I did - what inference would you assume?"

You sighed, taking both his wrists in yours as his fists refused to lessen. You whispered, "I would assume the King has passed, just as you, husband."

"Then we need confirmation," he decided, turning to head down the hall but with one hand lessening its tight fist to let your own slip into it. "I need to know - something's wrong, the castle's dark."

"I've noticed," you sighed, keeping stride with him and giving up hope to lace your dress up properly. "Who should we ask?"

"Mother," he decided, and after demanding from a few servants where she was after not finding her in her quarters, he was told she was seen heading for Heleana's room - and away you went.

Aemond was swift and got away from you when you were distracted in trying to thank the scared servants he cornered, and he arrived in the room first. You were just steps behind him, but he was only two strides through the door - froze in place - as he stared at his mother.

Based on the look she returned, Aemond understood the Maester's words were warranted - and condolences should be shared. "Aemond," you spoke softly, taking his hand in one hand as the other wrapped around his bicep. "W-We should leave them be, c'mon, love. Come with me," you tried to coax him but your mother-by-law was interfering.

"No," Alicent nodded to you, standing slowly. "There is something you three should know... Best we do it now, together..."

You sighed and let go of your husband to spy out the open door, finding the hall empty, and then shutting it firmly in place. "What is it, Your Grace?" You asked when you returned to your husband's side, whose arm slithered around your waist to constrict.

You let him, hoping your touch still brought him comfort.

"There is... Grieving news," she informed to three of you; hands nervously fiddling with themselves. "And I regret to inform you that Viserys," she paused, as if the words choked her, "h-has passed on in his sleep this night."

Your mind whirled with confusion - because wasn't your grandsire just fine when you saw him? Blinking a few times, you quickly looked up at your husband and let your free hand press into his abdomen. "Dead?" Helaena asked for clarification while Aemond stared at the ground with concentration.

"Yes, sweetling," Alicent nodded.

Your chin lifted deftly as you sensed the next words that were sure to come. And when the Queen met your eyes, and your husbands hand tightened on your waist, you knew.

"I must ask the impossible of you, dear girl," she nodded with meaning, "and this information must not leave this room - "

"You are questioning my wife's loyalty - again - now of all times?" Aemond snapped, making the arm around your waist tighten more - as if possible.

"Aemond, you must understand," Alicent begged, sighing heavily after. "This is of the utmost importance because Viserys implored to me his final, dying wish."

"And what was that?" Aemond asked stiffly.

"That Aegon be King," she revealed, and your heart turned to stone in your chest.

"I beg your pardon?" You couldn't help but utter. "The King... Viserys... On his death bed... Said for Aegon to be King? Not my Mother? Who's been heir for the past twenty-some years?"

"I know it is a shock," Alicent allotted.

"It is more than shocking, Your Grace," you whispered but your mind was playing catch-up with your heart - making you quick to recover. "It is hard to swallow this information so suddenly. But should you swear to me that this is true, I will do what I can to understand it."

"I swear it to you, Princess," she mustered. "And I know this news is heavy and grieving but I need to know where you stand on this. Here, and now."

You let your chin incline as her eyes bore into your own. "Before the Seven, I took vows to stand by my husband. That has not changed. Though it grieves me deeply to learn of my grandsire, and that my mother is to be replaced in succession, I will stand by him. Aemond is whom with my loyalty lies - like usual."

Alicent sighed as you felt Aemond's spine go rigid with pride.

"I would expect nothing less," She admitted with a nod. "Then forgive me for imploring again, but this news truly need not leave this room. Even to your mother, sweet girl," Alicent directed at you.

"Hmm," you mimicked your husband, feeling his hand flex with warning, "I did figure as much. I understand how pressing this is, Your Grace, this news will not fall from my hand - nor lips."

"Can we be done questioning my pregnant wife, now? Have we established her loyalty yet?" Aemond snipped, stepping between his mother and wife. Traditionally, that is a dangerous place to dwell and you did your best to keep him out of it. "What's to happen now? What are we to do - wait?" He asked, changing his tone, and the direction of the conversation.

"We cannot yet find Aegon, he's not in his chambers," Alicent informed nervously, starting to pace. "We need to locate him before anyone else - it is paramount."

"Who is looking for him?" You wondered.

"As of now, Ser Criston," she nodded, making you glance at Aemond.

"We will wait with you," he decided to his mother.

"I should go find the babies," Helaena distracted herself from her inner monologue, setting her stitch work aside.

"Do you wish for me to go or stay?" You whispered to Aemond in High Valyrian - knowing Alicent did not speak the language, nor understand it despite the years as 'being' a Targaryen.

"Always stay with me," he whispered back as his sister hurried out the door. Aemond sighed when he watched his mother pace, leading you towards the hearth. "Sit, love," he nodded towards one of the chairs. "Get off your feet a moment."

"No, 's all right," you assured, gently pressing his chest so he sat in the chair just behind him. You smiled at him as you finally had time to do-up your dress at last, one of his hands lingering by your thigh to reach out and graze against you at will.

Should you need him, he was there to assist you; maybe to provide a pressing finger to allow for a perfect bow from your laces, maybe just to nod in approval when you turned in presentation. He did so with a smirk of mild amusement.

As the morning slugged forward, you and Aemond waited with the Queen for Ser Cole to return. He waited in the chair, staring into the fire with contemplation as his fingers teased your own; mindlessly fiddling as you chose to remain standing.

When the door opened, Cole entered silently and made the Queen turn in question from her pacing. You watched silently as Aemond continued to stare forward, mutely pressing a lingering kiss to the back of your hand that he held. "Prince Aegon's not to be found within the castle walls, Your Grace," Cole informed as he shut the door. Stepping forward, he continued, "Your father has sent Ser Erryk into the city to find him."

Aemond listened to the words, his fingers stalling between yours.

"Ser Erryk knows Aegon. He has the advantage," The Queen muttered in despair.

Your eyes narrowed when Cole's head turned to look directly at your husband, who's head tilted in the slightest to clock the Knight's motion and then turn back to the flames. Your free hand rose to slide into the hair at the base of Aemond's neck.

Neither of you spoke with words as your glare hardened into your husband's the moment his eyes rose to meet yours, truly not wanting him to go looking for his brother on some wild goose chase. Maybe you just did not want to be left behind, but his gaze did not linger and soon, returned to the flames for stoic consideration.

Alicent approached Cole with a rush to her step, lowering her voice, and telling him, "I trust again to you, Ser Criston, and to your loyalty. Aegon must be found, and he must be brought to me. The very fate of the Seven Kingdoms depends on it." You wanted to throw your shoe at her head - knowing she was consciously usurping the Throne from your mother but for your life's sake, you would play along. Plus, as all kids, your husband was his mother's pawn, caught in this brewing war that was not truly his own. You could not abandon him; and could never convince him to leave his family or the cause, so, for now, you listened and made your mental notes. Alicent whispered, "Everything you feel for me as your Queen..."

"I will not fail you," Cole assured with determined adoration.

"I'll come with you," your husband decided from his seat still; making your eyes widen, fingers to tighten in his, and for your head to snap down to look at him.

"That would not be my desire, Aemond," Alicent told him, turning for her son.

"Nor my own," you told your husband pointedly, watching him swiftly stand from the ornate chair. You sighed and let him turn for his mother, glaring into the fire with hands on your hips.

"If anything has happened - "

"Cole needs me, Mother," Aemond cut her off, arms laying over one another to grasp the other's elbows. "Ser Erryk isn't the only one who knows Aegon's doings." You wanted to scoff with indignation, but Aemond smirked wider, "Besides, my wife grows restless and will accompany us. She knows this city best."

Alicent turned her head to look from you over to Cole, who nodded with acceptance - understanding she was silently asking him to watch over you both, because while you didn't always like it, Alicent treated you as a part of the family after needing time and reason to warm up to you. Aemond's eye did not stray from his mother as she weighed in her mind the options; second son waiting for approval and leave.

When his mother nodded mutely, he returned the motion before sighing and letting go of her with one final look. His eye darted up to meet your own while offering his hand, "C'mon, love. With me."

You didn't get to say anything to Alicent as the moment Aemond's hand was in yours, he was pulling you to stalk out of the room so you could prepare yourselves for a search around the city for the 'heir' to the Iron Throne. Now that Viserys was gone, it was optimal time for Aegon's ascension as the realm cannot be without a ruler.

"What was that?" You asked in High Valyrian under your breath as Cole followed you both at a distance.

"That was me getting you out from under the castle's spies eyes. You're safest with me, my love," he answered in the Common Tongue.

"Say 'castle's spies eyes' five times fast and I'll suck your cock right here, right now," You teased, eyes rolling with humor when his gait faltered slightly - making Cole offer only a mild look of confusion. "I'm only jesting, my Gods, Aemond!"

"Hmm," he perked a single brow, leading the way into your room; slamming the door. You both changed quickly as Cole made himself presentable for the adventure - leaving your husband to sigh into the privacy of your shared quarters, "We'll need your help, love."

"We both know the back allies," you shrugged meekly, lacing on a simple dress that wouldn't accentuate your figure - allowing you to blend in with the crowds and people of the capital. With a hooded cloak and laced boots, you were ready; briefly reminded of your youth when you liked to sneak out and mingle amongst the people. "We'll make do with us two."

"But you know them best."

You nodded, "This might be true... But there's one problem, love."

"What?"

"The White Worm."

He sighed through his nose but did not otherwise respond.

•

Cole had chuckled earnestly when Aemond all but instantly bought you something to eat; keeping an arm around you as you picked at the sweetly baked bread to pop pieces in your mouth. Your husband knew you well, and he knew how to keep you both close and occupied - avoiding any idea of you wondering off.

Look, sometimes you got distracted, okay? Not your fault that you - sometimes - went off trail. It wasn't a crime!

And with your pregnancy nose and belly, you had been caught once or twice sneaking into the kitchens because you smelled the freshly baked goodies. So, Aemond, The Good Husband, bought from a vendor, and handed it over to you before taking the lead - ensuring he could keep you within his hold.

"Where to first?" Cole wondered, readjusting his stitched cap as he grew restless of not knowing their destination. The Knight did not often patrol the city after his promotion to King's Guard - then to Queen's Guard - but whatever.

Some disguise is was.

Yet it wasn't much better than your husband - who was always recognizable due to your little brother maiming him almost a full decade ago. He only wore a muted color hooded cloak over his white locks; something unwittingly similar to you.

Couples that match together, stay together. It's proven.

Through a mouth of sweet bread, you offered, "Pabably the Stweet of Swilk."

"Oh, my Gods," Aemond whispered, tightening his arm as you snickered gently. To Cole, he directed, "Aegon brought me to the Street of Silk," he enunciated, making you silently mock him, "on my thirteenth nameday. It was his duty as my brother, he said, to ensure I was as educated as he was."

Your eyes rolled at Cole when you three came to a halt at an intricately carved door, and your husband took hold of the large, iron knocker. He paused to spare Cole a look, finishing his thought, "At least... That's what I understood him to mean."

He used the knocker to rap three times as you took another distracting bite, stood perfectly between the men, and looking between them with mild interest.

"I don't follow," Cole responded.

"He said, 'Time to get it wet'," Aemond leaned in to tell Cole, chuckling dryly when your hand swung to jab into his shoulder.

You swallowed your bite just to reprimand, "That's disgusting."

"Every woman is an image of the Mother, to be spoken of with reverence," Ser Criston Cole replied as if it were a rehearsed response, looking around you three with caution before reaching for the iron knocker and rapping three more times.

Impatient, are we?

You glared at Aemond and pointed at Cole, "That's a man's response."

"Oh, do I offer you insult, wife?" He teased, making your eyes roll with humor.

When the doors opened, you looked the woman up and down as she asked, "What can I do you lot for? You lost or something?"

"Or something," you replied first with a smirk.

Criston Cole took the lead, "Sometime last night, we... Misplaced our drinking companion. Knowing that he has been, in the past, a patron of your fine establishment, we thought to inquire here as to his whereabouts."

But the woman eyed you all with mistrust before demanding of Cole, "And describe him."

"That is a delicate matter," Cole informed quietly. With a glance to your husband, Cole leaned in to mutter in the Mistress' ear, "You see, the man we seek is the young Prince Aegon. And I may trust, I hope, in the discretion of your trade."

You took another bite of sweet, baked bread as the Woman of the House scoffed softly through her nose, informing you three, "The Prince is not here."

After you swallowed, you asked, "Has he been here, Lady? Earlier, perhaps?"

"Quite a bit earlier," she told you. "Years ago, in fact."

"Hmm," you shrugged a bit, sharing a look with your husband.

"But more recently?" Cole demanded, understanding the games being played. It was known the Prince Aegon had insatiable desires; and King's Landing was flush with little white-haired bastards.

"He does not frequent the Street of Silk," the Mistress informed stiffly. "His tastes are known to be... Less discriminating."

"Meaning what?" Cole asked what you all wondered.

Instead of answering, the Mistress smirked and tisked her teeth lightly. "I wish you luck, good Ser. And my best to your friend," she pointed to Aemond before she even turned her head.

You watched his head bow under her heated gaze, understanding if there was one weak spot of your husband's, it was anything pertaining to his appearance. He was vastly insecure since the loss of his eye, and any sort of unsavory attention on him made his stomach quiver gently.

You cocked your head, taking another slow bite as Cole turned and stalked away, and the Mistress eyed your husband, purring, "How you've grown."

With perked brows, you paused to blink away the shock and then bite your bread to hold between your teeth; freeing your hands to literally shove the Lady of the House back behind the threshold and then yank the wooden door shut with a clang while yelling some obscenity that was only vaguely understood.

"Hmm," your husband hummed when you snatched his hand, turning to lead you both after Cole. "Jealousy's not a good look to wear, my sweet wife."

You grumbled and ripped the bread from your mouth to chew as his arm came around to secure your shoulders. "And now?" Cole asked.

"We follow her," Aemond nodded, letting you take the lead.

Cole nodded, following beside your husband. "It seems you were mistaken as to Aegon's habits."

Your eyes rolled, "Or perhaps the citizens of King's Landing are loyal to their own - especially those who pay their dues."

"He could be in the hands of mercenaries," Aemond listed, "on a ship to Yi Ti. He could be dead."

You eyed the people you passed by, listening to the two men just behind you. Cole responded, "Let us hope, for your Mother's sake, that is not the case."

You peered down alleyways in search for the slumped-over Prince.

But Aemond grew irritated the further into the city you passed, snipping, "Here I am, trawling the city, ever the good soldier in search of a wastrel who's never taken half an interest in his birthright."

Both you and Cole had to pause in step to turn back when Aemond came to a halt in the middle of the walkway, almost seeing the steam rising from him as his anger stewed. "'Tis I the younger brother, who studies history and philosophy, 'tis I who trains with the sword, who's married to a proper Lady, who rides the largest dragon in the world. 'Tis I who should be - "

"Hush yourself, now, you speak dangerously, my love," you insisted, stepping closer to him. "Aemond," you sighed with reverence, knowing his pain and irritation. Though you had no desire to be queen, you knew your husband often let his mind blur with anger over how often he's overlooked. "This is not always to be our struggle. Hey? This will not always be reality, but for now, it is your brother's and we have responsibilities to uphold."

Cole nodded, stepping up behind you as you smoothly folded into Aemond's side - the Knight assuring, "I know what it is to toil for what others are freely given."

"Hmm," your husband considered, lip curling; head turning to direct his attention to the side. "And we can't find him, Cole. You are a decent man with no taste for depravity." This made Criston look around the alley for spying ears; something you often worried over. "His secrets are his own... And he's welcome to them." Though, you did not anticipate the next moves; stepping back when Aemond neared his mouth towards Cole's ear, muttering, "I'm next in line for the Throne. Should they come looking for me, I intend to be found."

You sighed through your nose and forced yourself to walk away, still looking for your brother-by-law. Your anger bubbled as you had to play the loyal fool; but the truth was, any talk of stealing your mother's Throne made you uneasy. Yet with your husband, you could not hide away any emotion for he always saw through you, and moments later, his hand slid into your own.

You tightened your grip to assure him you were still with him. He could feel the tension, and something in his gut prickled to fix it.

"A moment, Ser Cole," Aemond nodded to the Knight; making you pause before you could exit the alley.

Cole looked you both over before agreeing with a nod, moving several feet away; and for Aemond to turn so he hovered over you. "You're tense," he noted.

"You speak dangerously," you muttered.

"I speak truth."

"You speak of usurping the Throne," you snipped, "something I'd rather you leave to your brother. You're not wrong, my husband, and you are the better fit from Aegon, but that does not make any of this right. My mother is the rightful heir, and you know it - deep down, I know you do."

"Yet neither of us dare speak it now," he muttered.

"So instead you speak of taking the Throne for yourself?" You demanded harshly. "Gods be good, Aemond. I did not think you daft! Aegon is next in line, and whether he wants it or not, your family intends to instate him over my mother. You and I are both bound by law, obedience, loyalty, and duty to stand at their side - less we risk death. Less we risk execution. Please, do not let us talk of this longer than we must - it will not be the resolve we want."

He sighed and his eye dropped to soak you in. "You'd make the most perfect fucking Queen."

"And you a just King, but that is not the reality we live in right now. If we want to see tomorrow, you and I are to play a part."

He nodded, licking over his lips, "My words are safe with you?"

"As mine are with you - but speak no more to Ser Cole. Please. For my sake at the very least. I cannot say what he would keep secret, and I do not wish to risk us further than we are."

He nodded, sighing, "He's chalked it up to sibling rivalry I'm sure."

"With reason," you nodded. "Just tread lightly, my love."

Aemond nodded again, kissing your forehead. "Thank you, pet."

"I'm always here for you," you promised softly, lacing your hand with his. "But for now, let us try to locate your fucking brother."

He let you turn the pair of you to continue onward. Cole joined you both, and as a trio, scoured the streets for the white-haired Prince. Through alleys, around turns, over courtyards - you all traveled, in the hopes of locating the Prince before the Hand's party finds him.

However, some hours into your search, you came to a halt with a suspicious Aemond behind Ser Cole - who was staring off into the crowd of one of the local taverns. "My Prince, my Princess," he spoke softly, earning both your attentions. He nodded pointedly, and as you rocked onto your toes for a vantage point, both you and Aemond made out the bodies of Ser Erryk, twin brother, Arryk, and the Hand of the King - Otto Hightower - talking to the White Worm.

"Oh, that's interesting," You smirked to the lads, making them both look to you.

"What is?" Cole asked.

You decided to keep the information on the mysterious woman to yourself for now, replying, "It looks like a meeting of sort. They're buying information, and we know who the Hand seeks..."

"They're buying Aegon's location," Aemond nodded.

"We'll follow them," you smirked, landing back on your flat feet. When one of the twins offered the woman in royal silks a sack full of money, your smirk widened, "See? Work smarter, lads, never harder. C'mon, this way," you crept around the tavern, keeping them close to the walls as you yourself blended in much better. You risked getting closer, busying yourself amongst the people, and just as you thought the White Worm spotted you, she was revealing the Prince's location.

The Knighted Twins were sent to collect the Prince, and you hurried back to Cole and Aemond - snagging both of their wrists as you sped past them. "Hang on!" Aemond snipped, hustling to follow you. "What's going on?"

"The Prince is being held in the Sept, and if we're smart," you quipped back over your shoulder, letting them go to follow on their own, "they will retrieve the Prince and we'll steal him away. Come now."

Aemond smirked at Cole as you lead them down new passage ways - leading with confidence because now that you had a definitive destination in mind, you could easily navigate the complex city to cut down on time.

"How is it you know the city so well?" Cole wondered.

You mused, "You know how I was as a child."

He snorted, "Unruly."

"I prefer rebellious, Ser," you corrected with a sharp glance. "I believed in knowing the people you're to govern, so, I would wonder the streets on sleepless nights."

"She cannot be stopped," Aemond shrugged after. "Best to just follow her now."

Cole nodded and around bends you went. Eventually, you arrived at the Sept, and peered around. "Stay here," you spoke to the two. "I'll see if they're in."

"And if they are?" Cole asked.

"Then I'll signal to you and just blend in," your eyes rolled. "This is not my fight, this is where you two come in. So, make yourselves scarce from sight. We'll have the element of surprise."

"Pending you're not seen," Cole snipped.

"Do not underestimate my wife, Cole," Aemond stepped in, hand moving to your waist to stand chest-to-chest with you. Cole actually backed off a step when he noted the matching glares.

"My Prince," he grumbled, nodding with agreement before turning away.

Aemond sighed through his nose as he peered over your head for a moment, surveying up the stairs to the Sept. "Be quick and unseen," he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead. "And be careful," his hand moved to hold the small bulge of your lower belly.

"Mhm," you agreed against his lips, pressing another quick kiss. Turning, you hustled up the stairs and only felt mildly winded when you reached the landing. With a skeptical, heavy glance around, you noted the positions of everyone before moving for the doors of the holy building. You were only there a moment before catching sight of the Knighted Twins wrangling Aegon in - rushing back for the stone banister to give a low twiddling whistle.

Aemond recognized it and nodded to Cole.

You remained at the bannister, busying yourself and not looking back when you heard the grunting of Aegon and Arryk. You only stepped back, the three not even glancing your way, and offering you a front row seat to the impending battle. Only, you weren't alone as Cole stepped out from his place and your husband rose silently from his hidden crouch; Cole's sword extended as he spoke, "I do regret this, friend."

You laughed quietly when the tension filled stalemate turned tides when Aegon shoved an elbow to Arryk's stomach - making him release the Prince. From there, it was Cole against Arryk and Aemond against Aegon - both parties eventually making it down the stone stairs.

"Princess," A voice muttered, making you look up.

"Ser Erryk," you nodded. "You're not eager to join in?"

"No," he watched with you from the top of the stairs. "I do have conflicting feelings regarding matters."

"Over?"

"The progression of things," he muttered.

"You would support my Mother, would you?"

"I believe I would, after what I've come to witness," he admitted softly. "And yourself? You're Green now?"

"I bleed Black, my good Ser, do not mistake that," you hushed. "But if I am to survive with my husband, I have a part to play... Though... Something tells me you are sooner to see her."

"If I am... Would you have a message?"

Your chin inclined discreetly, "That my blood runs hot and Black. Tell her I remember our House words, and I would never abandon her. She will understand."

"I will, Princess."

"And that I love her. Remind her, Ser Erryk, if you see her before I do," you rushed now, feeling emotion swell in your chest.

"Princess," he agreed. "In the mean time, should you need my service - "

"There is something else," you nodded to him, the men still distracted enough to allow you brief privacy.

"ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME!?" Arryk demanded of his brother, your form hidden by the towering stone stairs Arryk stood under.

"Name it," Erryk muttered, keeping an eye on the battle.

"The Princess Rhaenys is locked in her room," you muttered. "She is not to be harmed, I'd see her out of the city. If you get the Queen Who Never Was out of the city, Ser, I will be forever indebted."

"It would bring me honor to do the right thing," he admitted. "I will do what I can, Princess."

"Thank you, Ser," you whispered.

"LET ME GO! BROTHER!"

"Go," you ushered, breaking apart from the Knight as Aegon yelled and thrashed in Aemond's arms.

"LET ME GO!" Aegon sobbed. "I HAVE NO WISH TO RULE!"

Cole had disarmed Arryk and taken his sword, you sweeping past the pair to approach the quarreling, platinum-blonde brothers.

"No taste for duty!" Aegon continued. "I'm not suited!"

Your husband voiced your same thoughts, "You'll get no argument from me."

You might've actually felt bad for the Prince as Aemond turned Aegon to face him, and Cole took your flank. The Prince Aegon begged his brother, "Let me go," he grabbed both of Aemond's cheeks, "I will find a ship and sail away, never to be found."

Knowing he was next in line, Aemond actually faltered as he considered the idea - but his eye cut over, and caught the shake of your head. He looked silently back to a hopeful-Aegon, and found no answer. Cole stepped away from you to wrap his arm around the future King's shoulder, informing, "The Queen awaits."

Seeing the physical anger as Aegon's hands shook while squeezing your husband's cheeks, you stepped up, "Aegon, do not. Fate has a way of finding us all, it is not so easy to sail away from. Let go - now."

He did not look away from his brother, but he did let go; only to push Cole's arms off him and stalk away - your feet stepping back to give him a wide berth of range. When away, you swiftly stepped up into Aemond's chest, and like his brother, took his cheeks in hand to force his eye to yours.

Before you could say anything, he only leaned down to press a suffocating kiss to your lips as his hand rose to hold your cheek and jaw. He paused to breath against you, foreheads resting together to let you breathe one another in. "Hey, hey," you hushed against his lips, petting his cheek with near desperation, "stay with me now. Do not get lost in your head, stay with me."

He nodded, pressing another reassuring kiss to your lips before whispering, "I'm with you, my love."

"Good," You sighed, taking his hand with yours, "because we need our wits about us in the coming days."

Aemond silently agreed, letting you pet a few stray, fly-away hairs back into place before he turned you to follow him - leading you both off in pursuit of his brother and Mother's guard.

•

You watched him for a time, just content to study his profile as you poured you both goblets of wine. He had been silent since returning from the streets of King's Landing; since finding his brother, ready to stow away and run away from your Mother's birthright.

"Here, love," You whispered, having watched his left hand flex in contemplation. He mutely looked up and accepted the wine, eye drifting back to the flames. You gently prodded him until both feet were flat to allow you room to slide onto his lap; sighing as you settled, asking gently, "Where are you, right now?"

His frowned deepened, eye raking over your face as he considered his answer. "In truth, the past..."

"All right," You sighed, leaning into his chest as one arm stretched to lay across his shoulders as the other brought the goblet to your lips. "Take me there with you, where in the past are you?"

He sighed, "All over, sweet girl. There is much on my mind."

"Over Aegon's words?"

"And actions..."

You nodded softly, curling a strand of hair behind his ear. "What do they make you think?"

"That I should've strangled him years ago," He sighed, taking a gulp of wine. With his lips brushing the rim of the goblet, he muttered, "Much would be different now. Perhaps I think of what could have been, should I of chose different."

You paused to let his words and emotions simmer, nodding slowly, asking, "Do you think much would be different with us?"

He snorted through his nose, "Not in the least bit."

"Oh?" You purred with a smirk, letting your lips pucker on his temple.

"Your brother had claimed my eye," he nodded with a small smirk, "at least, by the time I genuinely considered smothering the drunken fool, we were already engaged."

"Hmm," you mulled over, letting the arm around his shoulders flex gently to bring your hand to his cheek.

He swallowed another gulp of sweet wine. "Perhaps, if I'd been more of a man then, we'd not be here now."

"Funny you think you weren't man enough, even after what Luke did. I don't know grown men today who could handle what you endured. Funny you think you were man enough, yet at only age ten, you became dragonrider to Vhagar - largest in the world. You've always been man enough, Aemond, but you're not ruthless. No matter how you might think, you're not like your brother."

He smirked gently, "I ever tell you how perfect you are for me?"

"Hmm... Not today," You smirked, hearing him chuckle briefly. It was better than his suffocating silence.

But the silence fell again as he became lost to his thoughts. "Would you still love me?" He asked softly. "If I were King?"

"I do not think there are many scenarios for us to endure that I might love you less," you assured, knowing he needed the reassurance in this moment. "What you and I have, Aemond, is not conditional. I do not love you with terms, be assured that in any lifetime, I'd have you - and love you, still." You sighed against his temple, whispering, "Look at me, please."

His head tilted to gently drag the tip of your nose across his skin; letting you lean back to take him in, in full.

"You were raised with only a Mother's love," you whispered, "and were conditioned to believe you were not worthy of it. But you are, my sweet husband. You're worthy of love, and I've plenty to give."

He sighed, breath fanning against your lips, "What an honor to receive it."

Your smile was warm and never faltered - even when you leaned in for a kiss. In that moment, in your bubble, Aemond felt safe; and in a desperate moment, his forehead met yours as two tears fell in rapid succession. You let him grieve whatever was, what could have been; the privacy of your rooms and warmth of your embrace provided him a safe place to emote - and though he was in no way a master of it, he was getting better.

Your empty goblets made it to a table's top to rest, your arms tight as his head rested in the crook of your neck and shoulder; hand splayed across your lower belly to let his thumb sweep in comfort.

•

"You're fidgeting," Aemond muttered.

"I cannot help it, this is wrong," you whisper-hissed back; shifting in your spot to once more brush out the skirts of your black gown.

He sighed, pecking your temple, and whispered, "Please, my love."

You did your best to quell your nerves, but with the whole of King's Landing being ushered like cattle into the Dragon Pit, you could not help it. You were expected to stand by your husband (as if Aemond would ever allow you to stand elsewhere), beside the soon-to-be Queen; watching your brother-by-law be crowned King.

Oh, how wrong this was - but you could not stop it.

Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, called above the gathering crowd, "People of King's Landing... Today is the saddest of days. Our beloved King... Viserys the Peaceful... Is dead."

You listened to the shocked mutterings flood from the capital’s residents - their eyes turning beady the longer they stared at you. Your chin lifted, and Aemond's hand deftly rubbed along your waist.

Above them all, you stood on a platform dressed in your House colors. You did not speak as Otto called, again, "But it is also the most joyous of days... For as his spirit left us...! He whispered his final wish: that his firstborn son, Aegon," you tightened your own hold on your husband in support, "should succeed him!"

Your breaths were held as the crowd rumbled in conversation - but a collective exhale heaved when they started to applaud in approval. Your jaw steeled, these foolish citizens not realizing in truth they were supporting a stolen Throne to a child-playing-man. Guards marched through the crowds and forced a path that lead up to the stage you were stationed on.

As the trumpets blew, Aemond muttered in your ear, "Here comes our new King."

"Ease yourself," you hushed him, offering a look of understanding before facing forward again.

"Present... ARMS!" And a choir of sword sung as they were unsheathed and held above the soldiers heads to form a pathway for Aegon to walk under.

You could only keep track of Aegon through the crowd because after he passed each soldier, their swords swung in punctuation after him. You shuffled a half step closer to Aemond; an arm around his back to hold your anchor as your other hand laid against his stomach for balance. His arm tightened almost subconsciously around you, ensuring your proximity, but did not otherwise move.

"It is your good great fortune," Otto called again, "and privilege... To be here to witness this: a new day for our city... A new day for our realm. A new King... To lead us!" Aegon reached the end of the procession, each sword down - before swinging back up in salute.

Dare you say it, but Aegon looked positively seething to climb the stage stairs to meet the royal procession. Swords were sheathed as Aegon reached the top of the stairs to stand before his Mother and grandsire; the latter stepping back.

As Queen Regent, Alicent stepped forward to kiss her eldest son's forehead - a public sign of love, respect, and support - before she guided him to step up in his place. Your mother-by-law turned, then, to step back aside.

The guards all moved in sync - moved into position as their new task to guard the King. Otto stepped towards Aegon and gave one, single, meaningful nod; stepping back in time for Aegon to sink to his knees.

You watched the coronation with something akin to burning anger dissolving your gut - unsure what to make of the situation you bore witness to. Yet, like your husband, you've mastered the stoic position and look - and did not let your façade fade the longer you stood there. Aegon was the first born son... And even you, a student of history, could not dispute his claim.

Aegon the Elder was anointed in oils, words of blessing spoken over him and his reign. You silently prayed that it was not for long. Your husband had stood with his blind eye to his brother, not wanting to break his pride to turn and look; but his sister did. You, like your husband, just stared forward with obedience as you truly did not want to watch the Septon give his blessing.

However, as if connected by a string, both you and your husband's heads turned to watch the Septon step back and for Ser Criston to take up the crown and turn to the knelt boy. To the crowd, he explained, "The Crown of the Conqueror, passed down through generations."

Cole brought the crown to Aegon's head, and your hands tightened on your husband's torso when you clocked his unwavering glare. The siblings seemingly switched places, and now it was Helaena who could not bare to watch any longer as Aemond's eye never once lifted from his brother.

It was hard to read what he felt, but by the tight squeeze of his hand, you knew it was not positive.

"Let the Seven bear witness: Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne," Cole announced, and you swore you felt the burning glares of a few court and crowd members fall over you - your obvious lineage now posing problem.

Aemond's head bowed to look down at you, your eyes locking for a long moment as the Septon helped Aegon to his feet while the crowd stewed on what they just witnessed. The holy man bowed first and as Aegon's eyes moved, everyone bowed with respect. Your hand had to discreetly nudge Helaena's elbow, but she, too, gave a short curtesy.

Aegon's eyes cut into yours, and for a moment, you considered showing defiance in support of your mother, but knew better than to tempt fate. It was bad enough you wore black on such a day instead of a supportive green, but you liked to dress to match your husband. So, with stiff knees, you let yourself only just barely curtesy to the new (false) King. Aemond gave a single, swift nod of his head - and his brother did not dare ask for more.

Otto gave the final bow, and the High Speton offered his arm in presentation as he announced to the thick crowd, "All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men," Aegon only then started to slowly turn to face 'his' people for the first time, "Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!"

It was deathly quiet.

"Aegon the King!" Criston Cole called, rallying the crowd into an uproar of cheering, applause, and approval.

"Fucking sheep," you muttered in judgement, words drowned out as Aegon boasted in the glory of being King.

Aemond sighed against your forehead before kissing the top of your head - something only Otto seemed to notice. But the attention was drawn by Aegon pompously brandishing his sword, encouraging the crowds again. You noticed the way Helaena twitched and worried as you knew of the girl's visions, reaching for her as she turned towards you and Aemond - your husband between you still.

With an arm around your stoic husband, your other reached for the girl's forearm, "Are you all right, Heleana?" You hushed.

But her eyes only closed with concentration. You released her from your hold, the crowds chanting their support; and your worried gaze met your husband's. Just then, as your mouth opened to voice concern, the middle of the Pit's floor exploded in a hurricane of rocky debris. Your husband swiftly yanked you across his body to push you closer to his sister and turning to attempt to shield you both, but hunched slightly over you as the dust mushroomed around you.

Both his arms were tight around your torso, but none of you could look away - making out the sight of the Red Queen, Meleys, sweeping her mighty tail around citizens, taking out whoever she could in an effort to satisfy her bloodthirsty rider.

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen - freed by Ser Erryk by your command.

"Aemond," you shuddered as the ground trembled.

"I've got you, I've got you," he assured swiftly and you felt Heleana cowering lightly into your back. Aemond's eye swept over you in concern, pulling you flush against him as his body was used to shield you still; one of his hands dropping to lay protectively over your belly.

Chaos rained around you; screams of people drowned by the threatening growls of the mighty dragon. Then, she gave a shrieking bellow that only echoed in sound around you; and your hands tightened on your husband. Ser Crsiton had the Queen Regent covered as Aemond seemingly had you and Helaena; but you knew little could be done for your stepmother and company should Rhaenys utter that famous word.

That very word that would drown you all in dragon fire.

But this was a war to be fought with Fire and Blood, you were prepared for the carnage to follow. Yet your only instinct now was to not just cling to Aemond in an effort to keep him close, but cover the innocent, sweet new (false) Queen Heleana. As the great dragon started to move, people were trying to climb their way out of the Pit - but little could be done for them now.

"Th-They're closing the doors," you called down the way when you noticed it. "The people will suffer - they're closing the doors!"

Otto heard your words over the screams of terror and tried to roar over them all, "OPEN THE DOORS!" But the doors were still closing on people trying to flee - and the Hightowers knew that Rhaenys would escape one way or another. "OPEN THE DOORS!"

Rhaenys turned from behind her to note the narrowing escape to glare at the Royals beneath her - her eyes skating over you to land on Alicent. The Queen Regent then boldly pushed from Ser Criston, giving the command, "Get Helaena," as she moved for her crowned son. Standing before Aegon the Second, Green faced the Red Queen.

Aemond turned to push you and his sister behind his body in full; standing to face the towering, growling dragon that neared the platform to leer in all your faces. You held a hand to his waist to assure him of your position whilst his hands were held in use of defense - should need be.

Though, you wondered what he could truly do against Meleys.

No words were exchanged; Alicent only bent her head in submission, but the great red-scaled dragon only gave another bellow - but no flames. Your husband's head bowed to endure the stream of hot air blown across you all, one hand holding your sister-by-law's, and the other keeping tight hold of Aemond as his body protected yours.

Yet, in the end, you all opened your eyes to spy Rhaenys spare Alicent one last scorching glare before turning her dragonmount and rushing for the still-opened doors.

There was a collective shudder across the lot of you, and Aemond turned at once to take your face in his hands. He nodded once, brows crinkling in concern; making you lay a hand over his, assuring, "I'm okay. I'm all right."

"The babe?" He asked in a hush, Alicent checking over Aegon to then rush for her daughter.

"We're both all right," you promised, hand almost slapping over his own that laid to your womb. His gaze turned back towards the doors, ushering you to his chest; both of your gazes watching the fleeing dragon that bore a vengeful, hotheaded rider... A rider who would bare your messages to your mother and inform her of the truth.

A rider who you would meet again in open battle.

•

[ in chronological order: When Pride Married Prejudice // WPMP part two // Petitions // Distraction // The Inky Green Council // Bearer of Bad News ]