Anonymous asked:
Hey lovely! Can I request a Aemond x reader where the reader is also a princess, but it is said that she is a witch and in fact she is just a bit weird and intimidating, an outsider, also maybe fierce warrior (but indeed she has a gift for seeing things, has dreams and reads tarot, in really into astrology); she catches his attention and from there on you can develop the story further, like how their relationship evolves? I ADORE how you write to i trust you 10000% Also, thank you to all 7 Gods if you do this :D (and sorry if the request is a bit...all over the place? i suck at expressing my ideas)
I adore this idea, it took me a while to get to it because I want to write a longer oneshot for it. If any of you have seen Merlin...yes I am imagine Morgana and her powers. A little more magick than simply tarot and astrology, hope you don't mind Nonny :)
word count: 2516
Aemond x sorceress!reader
“Princess Y/N, it is a pleasure to welcome you to the Red Keep.” Queen Alicent smiled at you from where she stood upon the steps leading to the Iron Throne.
You curtsied low, your keen eyes flickering over the faces of the rest of the royal family, lingering only slightly longer on that of the tallest Targaryen boy. He wore a black leather eyepatch over his left eye, a vertical scar running from brow to cheek, his hands clasped neatly behind his straight back.
Your lips remained smiling as Aemond noticed your attention focus on him, giving you a short nod, his lilac eye flicking down to the ground before returning to your face. He had the most lovely plush lips, you noticed, pushed together in a perpetual pout. His long silver hair also gave you pause, only when Alicent cleared her throat delicately did you tear your eyes away, heat rising to your cheeks.
“Thank you, my queen. It is an honor to be invited here for the Festival.” You gave her a winning smile before stepping to the side, allowing those behind you to have their turn to be greeted by the royal family.
You felt Aemond’s gaze still upon you, Aegon’s as well, so you kept your eyes straight ahead, studying the seven-pointed star with forced interest. Truth be told, you cared not for the new religion spreading across Westeros. It held little power when compared to the Old Ways. Though you were now forced to practice in secret lest you be discovered and held accountable for heresy.
Your feet ached by the time people started to disperse, Alicent descending the steps and motioning her children to depart the throne room. You glanced surreptitiously to where Aemond and his siblings walked, following them out of the grand hall. The Targaryen princess, Helaena, looked around, catching your eye. She smiled and beckoned you to join her. “It’s so rare for anyone my age to come visit the Keep. I do hope we will be friends.”
“As do I, princess!” You were thrilled to make an acquaintance so quickly, having traveled to the Red Keep with only your retinue of servants to accompany you.
“I hope you also enjoy the company of many insects.” Aegon noticed you walking with them. He smiled ruefully as he appraised you with an appreciative eye. “My beloved sister knows more bugs than she does most people.”
The four of you had stopped upon reaching the courtyard hallway, standing in a circle together. Aemond looked down his nose at Aegon, opening his mouth as if to reprimand him but you beat him to it. “When they are as charming as you, who can blame her?”
Aemond choked, hiding his laughter by coughing loudly behind a hand. Helaena, who had been frowning, brightened slightly, looking at you with newfound fondness. Aegon was gaping at you like a fish, it took him a moment to rearrange his shocked expression into a petulant glare. “I am a prince and won’t suffer some insolent woman to speak to me in such a manner.”
“I am a princess and so is your sister…wife…Helaena. You will treat us with respect.”
Aemond placed a restraining hand upon Aegon’s arm as the latter moved menacingly toward you. “Brother, leave it be.” He warned.
“Women are made to serve men, not give them lectures.” Aegon snarled, trying to pry Aemond’s fingers off his arm. “Your pretty mouth has much better uses.”
A gout of burning anger flared in your chest, a familiar electric sensation coursing under your skin. The cold torch beside Aegon’s head burst into suddenly into flame, almost catching his silver hair on fire as it singed a few strands before he had the time to leap away. Aegon cursed, his attention completely diverted. Helaena covered her ears and turned away, distraut. Aemond, however, looked in confusion at the burning torch before looking at you with a calculating gleam in his eye.
“Might I have a word, princess Y/N?” He stepped away from the wall, motioning down the corridor.
“I almost caught fire!” Aegon continued to bat at his smoking hair.
“That would be appropriate for a Targaryen.” You muttered, only Aemond heard you. He frowned, taking your elbow non-too-gently and steered you away from his panicked siblings.
“Let go.” You yanked your arm free, the two of you facing each other in a narrow stone hallway.
“What was that?” Aemond asked bluntly, his eye intent upon your face.
“What was what?”
“That torch caught fire out of nothing.”
“I have no idea! How would I know?” You blustered, putting on a show of brushing invisible dust from your dress.
“So, your eyes turning yellow is just a normal occurrence?”
Shit.
You smoothed your expression into what you hoped was careful indifference. “What you are suggesting is impossible, my prince. My eyes are certainly not yellow.”
Aemond’s mouth thinned into a line as he looked down at you, displeased. You raised your eyebrows at him. The two of you stared at each other for several long moments before he relented, breathing sharply out of his nose, making a “hmm” sound in his throat.
“If you’ll excuse me, it is time for me to retire.” You gathered your skirts, moving to leave for your chambers.
Aemond nodded curtly, still looking you over with suspicious interest. You felt his gaze hot on your back all the way down the hallway, until you rounded the corner and out of sight.
That night sleep would not come to you.
Donning your velvet nightgown, you slipped out of your chambers, padding down the labyrinthian halls until you found the great oaken door to the library. It was late enough that the large book-filled room was empty, the door swung shut silently behind you on oiled hinges, a large fireplace the only source of light within the massive space.
You had lost control earlier with Aegon, the anger you had felt acted of its own accord, sparking your magick to life, quite literally in the case of the torch. You twisted your hands together as you moved deeper into the library, looking around at all the dusty books. Sitting at one of the many wooden tables, you pulled a candelabra over to you, looking at the cold wax of the candles intently.
You closed your eyes, focusing your attention, arms resting loosely atop the table, on either side of the candle. You felt your skin prickle, the familiar magick flowing through your blood to your fingertips. You felt it everywhere all the time, but when you concentrated on expelling it into the world it burned at your fingers and behind your eyes more than anywhere else on your body.
A sound, like a sharp gust of wind through trees, and all six candles ignited, the flames spouting high into the air before they settled to flicker on the wicks. You sat back, satisfied.
“Fascinating.”
The chair clattered to the stone floor as you whirled from your seat, a ball of purple flame instinctively held aloft ready in your palm.
Aemond Targaryen stood near the fireplace, his posture tense, on hand upon the hilt of his sword. You straightened, looking at him warily, the magickal fire still conjured in your hand.
“I knew it.” Aemond breathed, stepping carefully toward you, his hand slipping off the pommel of his sword. “You’re like those I’ve read about in the Forgotten Histories.”
He was very close to you now; you could’ve reached out and set him on fire if you wanted. He looked at you in fascination, still talking, his voice low and soothing as though he approached a dangerous creature. “A sorceress.”
“Most would name me ‘witch’ and have me executed.” You snapped, still very much on the defensive.
“Do you plan to kill me here and now?” Aemond asked, tilting his head, his silver hair falling across his shoulders as he leaned forward. “Murder me in cold blood when I mean you no harm?”
“I wouldn’t trust you if you were the last person in the world.” Still, you let the lilac fire die in your palm.
Aemond watched it vanish, his lips parting slightly. His expression was awed. “I thought your kind had all but gone extinct.”
“My kind?” You scoffed, stepping away from him, just out of arm’s reach. “You should know of magic better than anyone, having the blood of Old Valyria running in your veins.”
“I do.” He said softly, still poised as if he expected you to strike at any moment. “That is why you will find me more forgiving than most.”
“Forgiving.” You sneered, a spark gold flashing in your eyes.
“You know as well as I the Faith of the Seven harbors no tender feelings toward magick.” Aemond’s voice sharpened, almost as though he reprimanded you. “You would do well to temper your emotions before they get you in trouble.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to be an outsider!” You cried, your raised voice muffled by the many tomes surrounding you. “To have to be ashamed of what you can do, to have to hide who you are!”
“I know all too well.” He murmured, a flicker of pain twisting his features. “Please, princess.” He extended a hand. “Allow me to help you.”
“How?”
“There are many books, restricted as they are, that I have saved from being purged from the archives.” Aemond explained, speaking quickly now. “They detail the use of Old Magick and how it can be controlled. My study of these texts is how I recognized what you did with the torch earlier today.”
“I didn’t mean to almost roast your brother.”
“No indeed, your cutting words did that quite well on their own.” Aemond chuckled, the sound sending pleasant tingles across your skin, quite unrelated to magick.
You hesitated a moment longer before reaching forward to accept his proffered hand. Aemond smiled. “We will need to be discreet, if you are capable.” His smile widened as you scowled at him. “The books are hidden safe in my chambers.”
“This isn’t some elaborate ruse to get me into bed with you, is it?” You teased, Aemond rewarded you with another delicious huff of low laughter.
“I will admit you are…alluring even aside from your ability to wield magick.”
“How forward of you, my prince.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Aemond led you on quick, quiet feet up flights of stairs and winding through corridors. You had to duck around corners, waiting together for patrols of guards to pass before continuing on. Soon you reached your destination, Aemond leading the way into his lavish quarters. “Make yourself comfortable.” He instructed.
You sat down by one of the many bookshelves, the space of his chambers reminding you very much of the library as you watched him rummage under his large bed. “I know they’re here somewhere.” You heard him mutter. “Aha!”
He retrieved two very aged books, they looked to be barely held together by the fraying spines, their pages crumpled and yellow. You took on into your lap, leafing gingerly through, the smell of old book burning your nostrils. “It’s in Old Valyrian.” You commented, looking despairingly up to where Aemond still stood. “I don’t know Old Valyrian.”
“I do.” He placed the other book carefully into your lap for you to comb through. “I offered to help, and so I shall.”
“Teaching me Valyrian?” Incredulity laced your tone. “That seems like a mammoth task for someone you just met today.” You shut the book with a dusty snap. “Why are you helping me, really?”
Aemond was silent a moment, taking back the books when you offered them up to him. “There are few things I take interest in, and even fewer people. You should be grateful.” He moved to place the tomes gently atop his bed, sitting beside them. “I could just as easily be your enemy and give you over to the Faith.”
“You think so, do you?” Magick fire sparked lilac along the exposed skin of your arms, gathering at your fingertips.
Aemond’s gaze dropped to watch the energy gather along your hands, his pupil dilating slightly. “Focus your will, channel that emotion you feel into purpose.”
You did as he suggested, honing your attention on pinpointing the exact emotion you were feeling strongest. Your focus settled on the growing hope swirling in your chest, the thought of a future where you didn’t have to be afraid of being found, where you could become powerful and practiced in who you were born to be.
The fire dancing along your fingers flashed brightly, your eyes glowed briefly once more, then the magickal fire transformed from a violent shade of purple to a soft pastel yellow. It felt different in your blood, you could taste it like citrus on your tongue. “What…” You wondered aloud, raising your hand to appraise the sparkling yellow light.
“I believe…if memory serves. That is the color associated with healing magicks.” Aemond remarked from his perch atop the mattress.
“How do you know all this? You aren’t a magick user too, are you?”
“No, I am not.” Aemond shook his head. “I have simply studied…and I know what it is like to temper my emotions, to channel what I feel into action rather than reaction.” He tapped his long fingers upon his knee. “It’s a work in progress.”
“Thank you.” You said, finally allowing your guard to drop a little. “I still don’t know why you’re so intent on helping me, but I am grateful.”
“I’m not entirely sure myself, Y/N.” Aemond rose, ushering you back to the door. “I do know, however, that dawn is soon approaching and if you are found in my room…there would be such an uproar not even your powers could save us.”
You laughed, raising your hands up in mock defeat as you stepped into the cool hall. “Thank you again, prince Aemond. I…I don’t know how I can repay you.”
“Please, Aemond is how I wish you to address me if we are to be friends.” He said graciously. “As for repayment, I’m sure we can come up with something.”
You nodded, trying to fight down the blush rising to your cheeks. “Goodnight, Aemond.”
“Sleep well, Y/N.”
You departed, artfully dodging the King’s Guard patrols as you made your way stealthily back to your rooms, still wondering how you’d gotten so lucky as to fall into the good graces of Aemond Targaryen. Rumors had reached your ears of how harsh and cruel the prince was, but the man you’d met and befriended was nothing like what the gossipers whispered. He had alluded to being familiar with hiding who he was, being ashamed much the same as you.
You mused to yourself as you slipped beneath the covers of your bed, perhaps it had something to do with the eyepatch and the scar that ran down his face. You did not know the prince well, not yet, but you were eager to learn more about him. Especially since you found him so appealing to look at, and by the way his eye had trailed across your features, he felt the same. Your heart fluttered with something other than fear for the first time in too long. Smiling to yourself, you curled up and soon drifted into sleep, dreaming of a silver dragon engulfed in lilac flame.
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