Oooh, yes yes I know exactly what I want to write for these lovely Anon prompts! (edit: oh yeah, Aemond popped off in this one…I was expecting to be writing harsh words, and maybe threatening…but nah he uh kills them)
Aemond x wife!reader | crude language | protective Aemond | violence
Moonlight washed over your face, the cool night breeze rustling your skirts as you snuck outside the Keep walls. You knew he waited for you, just below the descending stone steps in front of you, awash in silver light.
You saw a figure in a cloak, hooded and tall, lithe of frame, waiting for you, his hand on the banister as he turned toward the sound of your hurrying feet. “Y/N.” Your name on his tongue like honey as your husband extended his arm for you to take. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost leaving our rooms.”
“Aemond.” You chided. “That’s only happened once, and I had Aegon as my escort, we were both thoroughly in our cups.”
“Mmhmm.” He guided you swiftly down the remaining stairs, out into the open streets of King’s Landing, the Red Keep a looming fortress at your backs. “You were undetected?”
“I had to navigate around some guardsmen, but yes. No one knows we’re sneaking off to the fire festival.” You looked up at him from under your own hood. “Why are we sneaking, Aemond?”
“Anonymity is half the fun.” He mused, squeezing your arm briefly. “I’d rather enjoy the festivities with my lady without peasantry taking notice of our presence.”
Firelight up ahead caught your eye. As the two of you strode forward the quiet darkened streets gave way to raucous revelry. Small folk laughing and cheering as fire dancers whirled and spat flame. There was an open pavilion with a makeshift stage whereon actors flounced about in comedic costumes. Bussers carrying platters of drink and food navigated their way through the chattering crowd. The smell of baked goods and sweet delicacies teased your nostrils as you inhaled, sharing a smile with Aemond.
Aemond did not release his grip on you the whole time you indulged in as many festival activities as you could. At all times he had a hand gripping your cloak fabric or tangled his fingers with your own. More often than not, he would watch your face rather than the performances of the acrobats and fire eaters. You would be gazing at them open mouthed in wonder at their skill, then your eyes would flick to Aemond’s face, and he would be studying your expression with a soft half-smile upon his curved lips, the firelight reflecting in his lilac eye.
As the night wore on, your feet began to ache despite the support of your leather boots. You were loath to leave, even as the crowd began thinning and the booths of food slowly turned in their wares.
A group of men, huddled together near a mossy stone wall, caught your attention as one of them said Aemond’s name in a gruff voice. His fellows erupted into laughter at whatever he’d just said about your husband, and your fists curled into instinctive fists. Aemond’s hand at your waist indicated he heard it too, and you glanced up to see he was staring at ground, his lips firmly pressed together as he concentrated on overhearing their conversation.
You both didn’t have to strain your ears overmuch as the next words were clear to be heard, spoken in a deep drunken drawl. “He’s lucky to have landed a lady like her.”
His friends grunted in agreement.
Another man spoke up in a reedy voice. “Landed?” He scoffed. “Bedded is more like. What I wouldn’t give to get a piece of her.”
You noticed Aemond had stilled so completely, he had stopped breathing as his narrowed eye flitted to the huddle of men.
“Man like that Aemond Targaryen. Missing an eye and all that and still gets between the legs of something like her.” A rail-thin man took a derisive swig from a bottle. “I would give her a good fucking and she’d be able to stomach my face.”
“Get bent Tarful.” His companion growled, pushing the thin man on the shoulder. “I’d love me the chance to put a bastard in her belly though.”
“Aemond no!” You hissed, grabbing onto your husband’s cloak but to no avail. The fabric was wrenched from your grip as Aemond strode forward, throwing back the hood of his cloak as he unsheathed his sword.
There were three of them, inebriated as they were, and only one of Aemond. You crouched to the ground, feeling around for a loose stone, anything that could be used as a weapon should the need arise.
The men didn’t take note of Aemond’s presence until he was almost upon them.
“What the shit?”
“Who the-”
“Oh, hells take me.”
Horrified recognition slid across their faces as they took in the sight of Aemond’s livid face. The prince stood rigid, a hand behind his taut back as he pressed the point of his sword into the eldest man’s throat.
“You dare speak of my wife in such a manner.” Aemond could barely speak for the overwhelming rage constricting his throat. “You dare have such vile thoughts about her.”
His long silver hair shone under the moon, cascading down his back and over his shoulders, his violet eye aflame, clearly indicating who he was even to the drunken men before him.
The reedy man reached for a small dagger at his belt, drawing it and stepping toward the enraged prince.
“Foolish.” Aemond seethed, barely glancing at him as his sword flashed in a blur of movement.
A spray of blood, the man crumpled. You gasped, looking away as you covered your mouth.
“Y/N. Leave.” Aemond commanded, his tone still hard and imperious. “Head back to the Keep. I will catch up with you.”
“Aemond…”
“Go!”
You scrambled upright, running across the deserted courtyard, only glancing back once to see the remaining two men cowering before the Targaryen prince, his long sword still extended, now dripping red.
Few others were still in the streets, and they paid you no mind as you hurried away, back up the hill to the Red Keep. Your stomach twisted with the memory of those men’s violating words, and the sound of that body hitting the cobblestones with dull finality.
Aemond was gentle and kind when he was with you. You almost forgot he had the blood of Old Valyria coursing hot through his veins. His fury scared you as much as it thrilled you. You had never before seen this side of your husband. Now you understood a little better why the Targaryens were so feared and respected, the words of their family running through your mind.
Fire and blood.
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