Anonymous asked:
Omg pls more aemond fic. Im all about hopeless pining aemond who gets a little shy around y/n, because it's the first time someone isn't afraid of him ughhhhhhh
Oooh yes, and I'm always going to be about Y/N being a lil baddie too! I guess this one turned out a little more angsty, but hey you said pining so....! haha
Aemond x Martell!Reader
You first crossed paths with Aemond in the sparring courtyard of King's Landing.
At first you only got a glimpse of the back of him as he warmed up for training, long white hair falling like a sheet down his back.
You gathered together around him and Sir Criston as they began exchanging blows and parries, dancing around the other with deft movements.
Aemond wore an eyepatch over his left eye, and you wondered silently to yourself what might have caused such an injury. You could see the vertical scar beginning above his browbone, and a twinge of something akin to pity stirred in your chest.
The onlookers winced and gasped as Sir Criston and the prince swung their weapons, barely missing, you had heard Aemond preferred to spar with live weapons instead of the regular blunted or wooden swords.
Before too long, Criston called for a break, panting and clapping Aemond on the shoulder. "Let's have a volunteer of who spars with you next, my prince."
"Am I proving too much for you, Cole?" Aemond's voice was haughty as he turned to accept another shield from a servant. Criston only panted a laugh and waved to a young man to join them. The boy, suddenly pale, shook his head vehemently and began studying his feet with intensity. Sir Criston and Aemond both laughed. "Is there really none among you brave enough to spar with the prince?"
"I will!" You stepped forward and all eyes turned to appraise you with skeptical interest. "You're a woman." Was all Aemond said. "Well spotted, my prince." You quipped back. The corners of his mouth twitched. "From where do you hail?" He asked, eye narrowing. You held you head high, "Dorne, from House Martell."
"Well then, by all means, choose your weapon." Aemond's eye had taken on an eerie coldness as he scanned your features. You knew no love was lost between your two houses, and you were eager to prove to him why the words of your house are "Unbowed, unbent, unbroken". You decisively picked up two short swords from the weapons rack and returned to face Aemond, twirling your wrists and swinging your shoulders to gain a better range of movement.
Sir Criston, who seemed as though he were on the verge of protesting, looked from you to Aemond, took note of how tense the two of you were, blew out his cheeks and shrugged. He joined the ring of onlookers, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Aemond crouched low in an offensive stance, and you instinctively mirrored his movements. "I'll try very hard not to hurt you." His violet eye was focused with an iron intensity on your every move.
"I wouldn't sweat it." Was your reply and you were prepared when he flew at you, sword raised for an overhead attack. You ducked and weaved around the blow, letting it glance briefly against your right-hand sword with a ring of metal on metal.
The sparring match was challenging for you, much to your chagrin, the differences in your fighting styles evident. However, it did give you an edge and you pressed the advantage until, at last, the point of your sword was at Aemond's throat. He had disarmed one of your swords which now lay uselessly in the mud. You grinned triumphantly at him, he smiled lazily back at you and flicked his eye pointedly downward. Following his gaze, you looked down and saw his own sword, tip inches from your abdomen. With a growl of annoyance, you swept your sword and knocked it away.
Aemond's smile didn't fade. "That was well fought, Lady Martell. Perhaps we will settle who really won at a later date." His hostility had eased significantly, and you noticed his shoulders relax as he addressed you.
You gave him a microscopic inclination of your head, which only seemed to amuse Aemond further, and turned to leave. Many gazes followed your progress up the stairs to the Red Keep, but it was Aemond's you felt burning a hole in your back.
In the weeks that followed, you would often find yourself back out in the sparring field. More than a few times it would be Aemond with whom you trained. The two of you becoming unlikely friends, you would needle him on occasion, but he never seemed to mind. With time, the bitter remarks you made turned into fond teasing and Aemond would give it right back to you. Every other lady seemed rather petrified of the prince, and it was clear he saw you as a breath of fresh air. One he couldn't get enough of.
Many times, you would feel his violet gaze on you. Whenever you looked over at him, Aemond quickly averted his gaze taking sudden interest in anything else nearby that wasn't you. This new development perplexed you, as it was so out of character for the brazen prince.
Aemond became more formal around you as well, you two would still train together and find each other in the library to be reading companions, but a rift had opened up in your friendship and you did not know why.
You also began to withdraw from Aemond, seeking him out once a week instead of once a day, yet you still could feel him watching you when you were not looking.
That is when the offer to stay on in King's Landing as Helaena's lady in waiting came. Once, months ago, you would have said "yes" just for an excuse to stay at Aemond's side. Now, however, you wished for the warm sun and soft sand of home more than anything.
On the day of your departure, you had not seen Aemond for several days in a row, which despite your weakening bond, had not happened before.
You were in the very same courtyard where the two of you first met, making final preparations to the carriage and luggage.
"Y/N." A soft voice from behind made you turn. Aemond was close behind you, closer than he had been in weeks. He looked...rather distraught, and your brow furrowed in unbidden worry. "Aemond, are you alright?"
He smiled ruefully, "I cannot answer that honestly, Y/N. I came to say goodbye."
Your throat had constricted, not allowing for speech, so the two of you merely stood and gazed at each other a moment. Aemond reached out, his fingers inches from your face, as if he wanted to run them down your cheek. He seemed to think better of it and instead gave you a shallow bow, you moved to enter the carriage. "Goodbye, my prince. Visit Dorne if you can." You knew it was an empty invitation, that he could not take it even if he wished to. Aemond obviously cared for you, but something held him back and with a bitter taste in your mouth you knew exactly what it was.
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