Anonymous asked:
I have a request if you’re still taking them :) Something with reader who knows how to fight and spars Aemond a bit and ends getting injured somehow (perhaps sparring Aemond 👀) and doesn’t tell him about it and he doesn’t know till reader collapses or something Hope you’re having a lovely day! I love your fics :)
Hi guys! This is a great idea; hope you like what I made! ((His face in this gif hurts my heart))
Word count: 1156
Aemond x wife!reader | Injury
You let out a sharp curse, throwing your body to the side as your husband’s sword arced down at you. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as your feet skidded on the soft earth, barely keeping your balance as you dodged yet another blow.
“Seven hells, Aemond!” You half-shouted, backing away yet further as he advanced, his one violet eye calculating your defensive stance. “Why must you always insist on sparring with real weapons?”
“It.”
You blocked a blow to your right side.
“Builds.”
You ducked another aimed for your shoulder.
“Character.”
Aemond accentuated each word with a flourishing attack, driving you back until you made contact with the stone wall of the courtyard.
Your swords met, with a ringing of metal, as you intercepted him yet again, your weapons scraping against each other as you struggled. Grunting with effort, you raised a booted foot and kicked at Aemond’s midriff, pushing him away enough to get in a few attacks of your own, though each he deflected with ease.
“There won’t be character to build if one of us gets stabbed through the throat, not that it would be you of course.” You eased up on your offense, panting to catch your breath.
“No better way to prepare for the actual experience of combat, Y/N.” Aemond chided, twirling his sword expertly as he waited for you to recover a bit. “The harder we train, the easier to defeat an actual enemy.”
He rushed you then, catching you completely and literally off-guard. Blood raced through your veins, your body hot and sweaty from the exertion of fending off his rapid strikes. In desperation, you leapt toward him, casting yourself to the ground, rolling on your shoulder to come upright behind him, and taking a swing of your own at his unguarded back.
Your sword made contact, though you were sure to hit him with the flat of the blade.
“Very good!” Aemond lowered his sword, giving you a cursory look of approval before returning it to the weapons table. “You’re improving significantly.” He spoke with his back still turned to you, his thick silver hair messily falling down his back. “Perhaps now you see the wisdom in training with sharpened weapons.”
“Aemond…I-”
“We can move on to dual wielding next, as you were so eager to begin last week.” Your husband continued, not hearing your small voice, wiping the moisture off the metal blade and sheathing it in a leather scabbard. “Would you prefer a shorts word to begin with, perhaps?”
“Y/N?”
He turned to see why you had grown so silent, his eye widening in alarm as he took in your blanched face.
“Aemond. I don’t feel so great.” You removed your hand from where it had been pressing against your thigh, your palm coated in your own red blood. The sight sent your vision spinning, as you swayed alarmingly on the spot.
You registered the crunch of gravel as Aemond ran to your side, scooping you into his arms as your knees gave way.
As he hurried up the stone steps to the Keep, pain began blossoming in your leg as the numbness from all the exercise began wearing off. You began groaning softly as it mounted, Aemond soothing you as best he could while hastening to the maester’s quarters.
You looked down to access the damage, seeing the torn fabric of your tunic pants, the thick blood seeping across the fabric, dripping onto the stone floor. That’s when you fell limp, you head lolling back, as you fainted, heedless of Aemond calling your name.
—
You were aware of soft voices, the feel of warm blankets cocooning you, a dull ache in your right thigh. Your eyes felt heavy, your throat parched.
“She should be right as rain in no time, my prince, there is no cause for worry I assure you.” You heard the voice of an elderly man speaking near where you lay upon soft cushions. “It was a superficial scratch, she’s lost some blood, yes, but I imagine the sight of the wound is what truly caused her to lose consciousness.”
“When will she wake?” This time, it was Aemond’s voice, sounding strained with worry. Something you’d never heard before.
You made an effort to speak, a garble of pain escaping your lips as you shifted, opening your eyes. Aemond crossed to kneel by your side, his fingers intertwining with yours laying upon your belly.
“Y/N, how are you feeling?” His eye roved your features, stress evident upon his angular face.
“Thirsty.” You rasped out, grateful as the old maester handed you a wooden cup full of spring water.
Aemond helped you sit up as you gulped it down, feeling instantly much better.
“Water, food and rest will be the quickest way to recover.” The maester refilled your cup. “The bandages will need to be changed twice a day; I’ll give you the healing salve in just a moment.”
You looked up at the wizened man gratefully. “Thank you.”
“Of course, my dear.” He shuffled to a wooden table, corking a small glass bottle. “If I might suggest.” Turning to the prince, he placed the ointment in Aemond’s hand. “Training with blunted weapons from now on, your highness.”
Aemond nodded briefly, thanking the maester before escorting him out of the room. He was at your side again in two long strides, bending to places a fervent kiss to your temple. “I was foolish, Y/N, and you paid the price.” He pressed his forehead to yours, his eye fluttering closed, brow furrowed. “I cannot stand the thought of you in pain because of me, tell me how I can help you.”
You closed your own eyes, the salve that had previously been applied taking away the edge of the pain in your leg. “Perhaps a nice foot rub would be a good start to your penance, my husband.”
“Hmm.” Aemond pulled back to read your expression, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. “That seems a small price for me to pay. Perhaps you can come up with more ideas in the meantime.”
He pulled your stockings off, rubbing circles into your aching feet, his hands feeling warm on your chilly skin. “You can bring me my meals, read to me…” You smiled slyly over at him. “Kiss me occasionally.”
He shook his silver head fondly, smiling with you. “That all goes without saying, Y/N.”
“Telling me how sorry you are and that I am always right wouldn’t go amiss either.” You hummed a contented sound, snuggling deeper into your blankets as Aemond began massaging up your calves.
He placed a kiss to your knee. “I’ll do all that and more, my love. Again, I am truly sorry for being so reckless with the one person in this world I couldn’t bear to lose.”
The sadness in his voice had you sitting up, despite his protestations to remain reclined. You leant forward, cupping his chin in your hand. “Oh Aemond.” You ran your thumb across his full bottom lip. “I’m not going anywhere I promise you. You’re stuck with me for a while yet, my dragon.”
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