HI! HUGE FAN LOL, I love your writings and the way you are able to beautifully capture Aemond's whole personality. Ok so, for the random writing prompts thing! Could we please have a short drabble for number 9 plsss, give us the angst! Where Aemond lost reader, it could be to an illness or reader just being another casualty of war, i.e Aemond got betrayed by someone and reader tries protecting him but ended up dying. Just let me cryy pretty please and thank you so much!!!
You're so kind!! I will try my best to make you cry :)
9. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”
Aemond x reader | angst | reader death
You remember the flash of a silver blade in the midst of a crowd of swirling color, the shimmering silver of your lover’s hair as he turned, too late. The silver of the moon high above, riding the night sky, bearing witness to the assassin’s attempt. You leapt forward, knocking trays of drink and food to the ground, desperate to stop that dagger from reaching its mark.
Purposeful silence filled your mind, your vision darkening around the edges, focused entirely on the assailant advancing on Aemond Targaryen. You had no time, though time seemed frozen, the dancers around you moving in slow motion as you blocked the deadly strike with your own body, unable to do anything else.
A sharp impact, the breath expelled from your lungs.
You looked down at the blooming red on your bodice, barely registering the swift stroke that cut down the shocked assassin.
Aemond’s voice cried out your name, sounding oddly distant.
You fell backwards, darkness enclosing about you, one word taking shape upon your trembling lips.
“Saved.”
Aemond caught you as you fell into him.
His sword, coated with fresh blood, clattered to the stone floor. He sunk down, your limp head upon his lap, his trembling hands trying to staunch the wound in your sternum. “Get the maester!” His voice sounded frenzied and too loud in his ringing ears.
Fresh tears slid down Aemond’s cheek, blurring his vision as he felt your throat with his fingers, looking for a pulse, any sign of life that might shed some ray of hope.
He found none.
Pressing his palm flat to your chest, Aemond could detect no beating of a heart, no rise and fall of breath.
“No.”
He would deny it until his voice gave out. His love was not dead.
“Help them!” He shouted, at no one in particular, his fingers grasping loosely at the handle of the dagger that still protruded from your chest. He knew better than to wrench it free, so he let his hand fall helplessly to the ground to support his weight as he bent over you.
Ragged sobs escaped him. Even when the maester did arrive to look sorrowfully upon the scene, Aemond refused to let you go. When all the healers in the Red Keep gathered around, murmuring softly to each other. When the guards cleared the scene of civilians. When the body of the assassin was carted away. Aemond remained kneeling upon the cold ground, clutching your body close, your blood staining his skin and clothes.
“My prince…there is nothing we can do.” The healer made as though to try and extricate you from his grasp. “Allow us to-”
“Do not come any closer!” Aemond snarled, his hand grasping the hilt of his discarded sword.
He pressed a shaking kiss to your cold forehead. “Please, Y/N.” He rocked back and forth, unable to stand the agony of grief. “You need to wake up. I can’t do this without you.”
The silver moon was setting, reflecting silver light on the fresh blood spilt upon silver stone.
Despite Aemond’s pleading, you did not wake. Only when Alicent gently coaxed Aemond into her arms did he finally let you go. His eye red and strained by tears as he sobbed against her chest, clutching tightly to her as the healers carried you slowly away.
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