Anonymous:
Hi, I love your writing. I know you get A LOT of requests, but I was thinking if you could write some enemies to lovers. Dagger to throat, angry makeout session and you know stuff like that. That would be GREAT.
Hi, so I based this oneshot (maybe twoshot) from this post because I needed to, duty called, I answered. And @ladybug023 has some great ideas!
(I can’t help but love you
Even though I try not to
I can’t help but want you
I know that I’d die without you -Ruelle, War of Hearts)
Word count: 2,000
Aemond x tomboy!lady!reader | enemies to lovers ?
You smirked up at the Targaryen prince through your lashes, his brow was furrowed in concentration, trying to gauge an opening in your defensive stance.
“You said this is called Water Dancing?” Aemond huffed, he’d been unable to land a single blow to your person the entire sparring match and it was aggravating him.
“It is! My father hired a Braavosi sword instructor because they’re said to be the best.” You kept a trained eye upon the prince’s shifting stance, your one-handed sword raised at the ready.
“Is that not unusual, a Lord allowing his daughter to train in swordplay?”
You scoffed. “Says the one-eyed prince.”
Aemond snarled, his long hair swirling about his angular face as he lunged for you. You were barely able to knock aside his strike, stumbling back before recovering your balance enough to swiftly dodge his continued attacks.
With a growl, the Targaryen relented, instead beginning to stalk in a circle around you, reminding you very much of a dragon in the way he moved and glared into your eyes.
“Why do you insist on training with me if it vexes you so?” You feinted toward him, striking instead at his unguarded left flank.
Aemond, quick as ever, parried your blow. “My…intense dislike for you inspires me to train harder.”
“Oh, so I inspire you, do I?”
“Only in the way a fungus inspires nausea.”
“Ouch.” You half-laughed at his disdain, failing to block his next attack, the flat of his blade knocking heavily against your shoulder. “Ouch!”
“Pay better attention next time.”
“You’re an ass, Aemond.”
He leapt at you again, you neatly dodge under his arcing strike, rapping him on the back with your sword. Aemond spun, his violet eye practically glowing with frustration. “Better an ass than the spoiled daughter of a nobleman who indulges her every whim.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous.” You blocked several more of his attacks, the sound of metal-on-metal ringing off the stone walls of the courtyard.
“Jealous of a girl who looks as though she’s been drug face first through the streets of Flea Bottom?” Aemond snorted a derisive laugh. “I think not.”
“Why you entitled,” It was your turn to be the aggressor, a sudden burst of anger spurring you forward, “dragon-riding,” You jabbed at his torso, “towheaded,” You tried swinging a blow down upon his head, “pretentious Snollygoster!”
Aemond had to take a moment, holding a hand to halt the sparring as he leant upon his sword, laughing. “Snollygoster? Did your Braavosi master teach you that as well or did your father hire a separate instructor for rare insults?”
“It means-”
“I can imagine what it means, Y/N.” Aemond spoke over you, twirling his sword one final time before moving to rest it back upon the weapon’s rack. “As insufferable as you are,” He shook his silver head at you, his expression still amused, “you certainly aren’t boring.”
You returned your sword to its resting place as well, shooting Aemond a scalding look. “Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for you.”
“And yet,” Aemond mused, looking down his nose at you, “you insist on sparring with me alone and no one else…ever.”
“I-” You spluttered, only causing his smirk to grow wider, “I-you said it yourself. No one else challenges me like you do.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me, Y/N.” Aemond gave you a mock bow, his long hair falling over his shoulders.
You hated how pretty he was.
Averting your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I guess I’ll see you tonight?”
“Tonight?” Aemond echoed, tilting his head in confusion.
“Yes, tonight. The dance? Have you forgotten?”
“Ah, no I hadn’t forgotten. I simply didn’t think my mother would’ve invited a girl who pretends at being a boy as her favorite pastime.”
Despite yourself, his words stung. You gave him one last withering look before turning towards the Red Keep. “Better that than a lonely little boy pretending he has any chance at the Iron Throne.”
You knew your words were cruel, but this was the game you two had been playing since the day you’d first met in the sparring arena. His intense dislike for you was tempered by the admiration he felt for your boldness. For your part, you appreciated how much you learned sparring with him in both swordplay and your everlasting battle of words.
Aemond did not call after you as you entered the dark coolness of the keep, winding your way upstairs and through torchlit corridors to your chambers. He was right of course, you had mud on your cheek and your hair was a tangled mess. If you were to look presentable for tonight’s feasting and dancing, you a lot of work to do. You called for a hot bath and some serving maids to help dress you and do your hair; you’d be damned if you saw Aemond smirk down at you tonight.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
The shimmering cobalt fabric caressed your clean body in waves of chiffon and satin. You wore a necklace of dark blue sapphires that cascaded like a waterfall, drawing the eye to the swell of your chest and the details of gold upon your bodice. Your long hair had been successfully untangled and washed, thoroughly brushed through, drying in lustrous curls that the servants had swept away from your face in a twisting updo, showing off the curve of your neck.
You noted the surprise on the maid’s face at your drastic change in appearance, only growing to an expression akin to awe as you dabbed rouge on your cheeks and lips, underlining your eyes with a stick of kohl.
“You look…radiant, my lady.” The sweet girl bobbed a curtsy to you before you swept from your chambers.
You gave her a smile of thanks, gathering your silky indigo skirts as you departed, leaving the scent of lilac perfume in your wake.
As you descended the sandstone steps to the crowded great hall, many eyes turned your way in admiration. You gave a small smile to those people whom your eyes met, vindication swelling in your breast as your gaze alighted upon Aemond’s shocked face.
He was easy to spot, looking very handsome himself in a tunic and coat of dark green and black, the fabric contrasting pleasingly with his silver hair and purple eye. He wore an eyepatch of black leather to match, his expression morphing from shock into something unreadable as he watched you striding toward him.
With the soft sound of your skirts brushing the floor, you walked purposefully up to the Targaryen prince. Giving him a small curtsy, all the while a coy smirk playing upon your lips.
“I almost didn’t recognize you.” He said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You don’t look like an unwashed beast.”
“Amazing what some hot water and soap will do for a person.” You grinned up at him. “Too bad it can’t help you though.”
Aemond let out a low sound of annoyance, shaking his head at you. “One day I will make you regret your insolence.”
You leaned into his space, your breath intermingling with his. “I look forward to it.” You gave the prince a cheeky wink before flouncing away, deeper into the swirling colors of the crowd.
ʚïɞ.•*¨*•.¸¸♬
Your feet ached, you’d been dancing for quite some time, on the arm of one handsome gentleman to the other. Most of the company proving to be too vapid and self-interested for your taste. Despite yourself, you kept looking around for a familiar one-eyed prince, but hadn’t seen Aemond since your encounter at the hall’s entrance.
As you were swirled by yet another boring dance partner around the floor, the two of you passed the open doors leading to a moonlit balcony. You barely had the chance to glance outside but were able to see the familiar taut stance and long straight hair of the man you were loath to admit you wanted to see.
“Excuse me.” You broke the too-tight embrace of the man grasping your waist, waved off his protestations and turned to make your way through the other dancers, toward the balcony.
Cool night air washed over you as you exited the ballroom, your curled hair stirring in a salty breeze fresh off Blackwater Bay. Aemond still stood, motionless as a spider, with his back to you, looking over the railing toward the sea.
Careful to keep your distance, you moved to stand at his right side, enjoying a moment the muffled sound of music and laughter behind you, the distant noise of the city and ocean in front.
“Why are you here?” Aemond’s voice was not displeased, though he did not turn to look at you fully.
“I…” For once you were at a loss for words, instead you tapped your fingers upon the rough stone banister. “I needed some fresh air. Why are you out here?”
Aemond was silent a moment, so long you doubted whether he would answer you. You turned your face to look at him, his profile sharp and regal as he stood tall with hands clasped behind his back.
“Large gatherings of people do not entice me.” He spoke at last, still avoiding looking toward you. “You seem to be thriving, however.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Aemond tsked, a measure of his former teasing levity returning. “It’s swollen enough.”
You laughed, the sound drawing Aemond’s gaze at last to your smiling face. You stopped giggling immediately, upon seeing the intensity of his expression.
“Are you alright?” You were surprised at the amount of genuine concern you felt for him, and you could see he was as well by the way his eye widened slightly.
“You seem intent on tormenting me, Lady Y/N.” Aemond moved toward you then with predatory intent, like a cat stalking its prey.
You instinctively backed away, until you hit the wall of the Keep, Aemond’s arm coming up to cage you in, his face inches from yours.
“So, I shall ask you again: why are you here?” Aemond’s breath was hot upon your face, though not unpleasant.
You found yourself looking at his curved lips longer than you should’ve before dragging your eyes back to his. “I needed some fresh air.” You said stubbornly.
“Y/N, there are five other balconies adjoined with the great hall, that’s a remarkable coincidence.”
“A happy accident.” Breathing was becoming hard, you felt hot and cold all over, especially as Aemond raised his free hand to toy with a ringlet of hair falling against your neck.
“I don’t believe you.” His voice was soft, almost dangerous.
You felt yourself lean closer to it, your eyes drifting once more to his parted lips.
“Y/N. My eye is up here.” Aemond ran his fingers from the lock of hair he’d been twirling to rest lightly upon your sapphire necklace just above your bosom. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wore this on purpose.”
“My necklace?”
“Hmm.” Aemond affirmed, his eye roving across your jewels then back to your moonlit face. “Everything you do seems calculated to drive me even closer to the brink of madness.”
“I’m…sorry.” You managed to breath out, your own eyes widening.
“No, you’re not.” He chuckled a deep laugh, pulling away from you abruptly, leaving you feeling bereft of his proximity.
“You’re right, I’m not!” You called after the prince as he walked away from you, back to the firelit hall. “Godsdamnitall.” You swore quietly, smoothing your rumpled skirts and hair before pursuing Aemond back across the balcony. “Wait a damn minute, Aemond.”
It was too late. The insufferable tease had already slipped back into the twirling crowd, the music drowned out your voice as you called after him. You’d have your revenge for the way he’d made your heart flutter and your cheeks flush, he wouldn’t be able to dodge you forever.
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