Anonymous asked:
Okay me is officially simping so I was wondering if you could do a one shot where aemonds betrothed is shy/innocent/short/ladylike (you catch my drift) is still kinda scared of him cause of his reputation but there is a feast ans he protects her from a handsy lord? And that breaks the ice Thank you!!! Your writings are literally amazing
Of course, Nonny(s)! And thank you for that lovely compliment as well :3 And of course Sir Handsy is gonna be a Lannister because who else would it be lmao
Oh also so ya’ll don’t have to look it up “drab” is a medieval word for whore. :)
Word count: 1189
Aemond x f!reader | protective/angry Aemond | Shy reader
Betrothed to a dragon.
That’s not something a lot of ladies could say for themselves, and not a prospect that thrilled you overmuch. Rather, it petrified you. What was more, Aemond Targaryen was rumored to be a cold and coarse man, the socket of his left eye filled with ever burning flame. Naturally, you didn’t believe that last part, but it was still with nervous curiosity you observed the man you were destined to wed as he sat across from you at the dining table.
Upon first meeting, you had been taken aback by his appearance. From the gossip, you’d expected a deformed monster of a man…certainly not an appealingly angular face, prominent nose, curved lips and beautiful silky hair of the classic Targaryen silver.
Perhaps you’d blinked too many times in surprise as you greeted him, noticing the slight downturn of his mouth as he read your expression. His one remaining eye was a cool lilac color, unlike anything you’d seen before, while he had elected to wear an eyepatch over where his other eye had been.
“Lady Y/N.” He gave you a small, stiff bow.
You curtsied back, blushing and looking abashed at your feet. You’d offended him.
The welcome dinner that night had come swiftly, the darkening skies and cool breeze wafting the smell of many varieties of cooked foods throughout the Red Keep. There were other members of noble houses seated around you as you picked at your food, glancing occasionally toward Aemond who seemed to be studiously avoiding your gaze. His profile sure was a lovely thing to look at, as he raised a goblet of steaming mead to his lips, his hand was equally defined, long fingers grasping the pewter cup. Aemond’s eye flicked to meet your face, his expression unreadable as he lowered the drink, tapping the metal with a finger.
You quickly looked away, staring intently at your plate, before Alicent turned from her conversation with a member of the Tyrell family and engaged you in light banter. You were grateful for the distraction from her son, answering her questions while all too aware of Aemond still observing you from your periphery.
Music began to play and you rose from your seat, crossing to where more drink and desserts had been placed on several oaken tables. You grabbed a pitcher of dark wine, pouring yourself a generous helping, probably more than was strictly wise.
A light touch at the small of your back alerted you to the presence of a man dressed in gold and scarlet, his shoulder length hair falling loose in gold waves.
His eyes were a deep green as he appraised you, smiling. “Lady Y/N was it? I am afraid I was too far away to properly introduce myself. Tytos Lannister, at your service.”
His hand was still at your back, even after you’d tried to move away slightly. The discomfort must’ve been evident in your face, but he didn’t seem to notice, not that he was looking at your face to begin with.
The man leaned in close to you, the smell of strong drink upon his breath causing you to flinch away, trying unsuccessfully to distance yourself from his leering grin. To your dismay his grip upon your dress only tightened. “I can name several ways in which I would like to service you this evening, my lady.”
“I can name several ways in which you don’t leave this room with all of your limbs.”
A smooth, velvet voice interrupted the Lannister lord. Both you and he looked around to see Aemond looking down his nose into Tytos’ blanched face. The Targaryen prince grabbed the hand at your back, ripping it away and holding the ringed fingers tightly in what would look like an amicable greeting were it not for the way Tytos winced in pain. “This is my betrothed to whom you speak as though she were a drab, and you are in a castle not a brothel.“
The Lannister struggled against Aemond’s vicelike grasp, yanking his hand back from the prince with a curse. “I am a lion of Casterly Rock and will not be treated with such impudence, not even from you.”
“Ah yes.” You watched as Aemond’s lip curled in a sneer. “What are your house words once more? ‘Hear me roar’?”
His violet eye was cold and calculating. “Yet all I hear is the mewling of an impotent kit.” Aemond stepped forward, invading Tytos’ personal space, causing the man to step backward as he spluttered.
The prince set a finger lightly against the Lannister’s chest. “Touch my betrothed again, and I will exact my vengeance with fire and blood.”
Not waiting for the lord to gather his shocked senses enough to release a diatribe, Aemond took your elbow firmly and guided you quickly away.
You looked up at him, his profile sharp in the flickering torchlight. “I apologize, my prince. I didn’t know how to get away from him.”
Aemond glanced down at you, surprise flickering over his face. “Do not apologize, Y/N. You did nothing wrong; it is he who should be asking your forgiveness.” He stopped once you two had walked out of Tytos Lannister’s line of sight, turning to you with a small smile. “Your beauty is a siren song for lecherous fools such as he.” Your lips parted in shock as Aemond ran the back of his forefinger down your cheek briefly. “Later, I will teach you a trick my sister showed me. It involves a swift upward movement accompanied by a hasty departure from the scene.”
You laughed, your giggles seemed to delight the prince as one of his large hands came to rest atop your hip, his eye alight with mirth as it drank in your crinkled nose and rosy cheeks.
He looked over your shoulder, expression falling slightly, you turned to follow his gaze just in time to see his mother, Alicent, finish motioning him towards the dancefloor. She averted her eyes, turning in her seat hurriedly to continue eating and chatting. This caused another ripple of giggles to erupt from you, covering your mouth with a hand as you glanced back at Aemond’s bemused face.
“Oddly, I suddenly feel the urge to dance, Y/N. Will you join me?” Aemond held out a hand to you, which you accepted, still smiling broadly.
“Of course, my prince.”
He led you, hand in hand, to the center of the stone floor. “Please dispense with the formalities, I am simply ‘Aemond’ with you.”
You placed your other hand atop his leather-clad shoulder, swaying as he led you in a slow waltz. “I like the sound of that… ‘simply Aemond.’”
He chuckled low at your cheeky reply.
This man was no monster, no flame-eyed outcast. He was the dragon you’d been betrothed to, a prospect that now sent thrills of anticipation down your spine. As volatile as flame, fiercely protective of what belonged to him. Beautiful as a cloudless night, devastating as burning wildfire. You found yourself wanting to be his wife, to explore what shaped him into the man who now held you in his arms. Your journey together had just begun, and for the first time, you felt a tender excitement for what the future promised.
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