Chapter Text
You lean forward eagerly, feeling the wind whip your hair and bite at your eyes as Ashfall shadowed the night sky. Stars cascaded as far as you can see, the full moon haunting yet encouraging as it washed its tempting beams over you. You had heard that the moon made people do crazy things, how it could draw the tides to the shore, could even make humans transform into something else entirely.
All of which described you as you flew towards yours and Aemond’s rendezvous spot.
After that fateful evening where Aemond had claimed Vhagar and Luke claimed his eye in turn, your mother had seen to it that the family return to Dragonstone at once; taking up its cold, empty, soot-coated halls as things between the Greens and the Blacks had reached an impasse.
It had been unfair; deeply, woefully unfair. You had pleaded, insisted that you could remain as a representative of the family, keep them on their toes and at least make their attempted coup a tad bit harder to accomplish with your presence there to annoy them, but your mother was unrelenting in her decision. Your family must stay united as one. And your “great uncle” Daemon had assisted in being just as firm. “We will not have you remain alone and in danger just because you are in the throes of womanly lust.” He had scolded in High Valyrian. You had glared back at him.
The night before your family was to leave, you and Aemond had gone to your familiar meet-up spot at the time; the second floor of the library. Once in each other’s sights, you were drawn together as if magic was pulling you along. You had winced and nearly started to cry as you saw the stitched up swollen mass on the left side of his face once more. “Oh Aemond…” Your voice fades. No words can compensate the loss. “Truly, I know my brother regrets what he did. I am so sorry.”
A storm cast over his face, but he willed it away. For the moment. “I do not wish to speak of the past right now.” His eye eagerly looked into both of yours, seeking out an answer he was scared to learn. “Is it true? You leave on the morrow?”
You sullenly nodded. He’d huffed, kicked a chair loudly across the floor. Normally he was not the loud one when it came to high emotions (that was Aegon’s territory), but first he had lost his eye, and now he was losing you. Everything was being ripped away from him without his choice.
You gripped at his hand with both of yours and pulled him towards you. “We don’t have long. My Mother will notice my absence soon.”
“If not, your Father will.” He mumbled angrily. You tugged his hand, glanced about wildly, and shrunk your voice to a harsh whisper.
“Do not speak of such things! After the outburst about my brothers, Grandsire is a hair’s breadth away from dealing out severe punishments to those who question our legitimacy. His own children be damned.” He smirked a bit, ruffling your feathers all the more. “This is not a game! I cannot have you get more bloodied than you already are-“ He pulled you towards him now, your lips dancing dangerously close and making your heart stop in its tracks.
He gazed down at you, his voice a soft fan across your face. “Your concern for me is a comfort, you know.”
“As is your presence to me.” You smiled back, thankful for the serene bond you two shared. He had been an outcast with no dragon, a shadow in his brother’s destiny for the throne. And you, a meek girl that was second heir to your firestorm of a mother. A young maiden that took to books more than to the sword. And with parents like Rhaenyra and Daemon, it felt shameful to be more familiar with ‘Grand Maester Flynn’s Guide to Poisonous Sprouts’ than lances and shields. The two of you had found solace in each other, in your own recluse trials and tribulations.
You glanced down at your hands, still interlocked, and brought them up eagerly as a plan hatched in your brain. “This doesn’t have to be the final comfort.” You raised an eyebrow, rubbing your thumb along his knuckles as you whispered.
He furrowed an eyebrow in turn, on the non-swollen side of his face, nodding for you to continue.
“We have the means now, more than anyone, to travel to any destination we see fit.” You earnestly pointed out. Aemond’s mouth hung agape before it shaped up into an understanding smile.
“When and where?”
“…Every third round where the moon grows full, we travel to that island Southeast of Dragonstone.” You stare up with eager eyes, plotting your romantic reconnaissance as he brings your hand up and kisses it along your fingers, sealing the deal. You lean forward and gently meet your lips with his, sealing it further.
The memory was still crystal clear to this day, five years later. And your heart had never once ceased its incessant drumming every time you snuck from the castle to the dragon pit, mounted Ashfall, and silently flew into the night. The sound of her flapping wings meshed with the splashing of the waves.
This night was a foggy one, like the sea itself was a simmering fire and smoke was clouding above. If you sunk too low to the waters, you would lose sight in the thick of it. Even if blinded though, you knew the way to your love by heart.
You had circled the island briefly, making sure it was as abandoned as ever, before floating down to the usual spot; a small beach backed by a cliffside. You slid from Ashfall’s back and landed into the sand with a grunt, stretching your legs beneath and arms overhead. You reached forward and pet your dragon’s face, her purple scales fading into gray as they circled about her head. “Easy girl, your friend will be here soon enough.”
A shadow fell over you and you gazed up in wonder; the utter size and intensity never ceasing to amaze you. It seemed that the dragon eclipsed the sky itself. “Maybe sooner than you think.” You smiled as Vhagar gently came to a landing; her soft wing fall caused layers of sand to skirt past your feet.
You heard the sliding of a person against dragon scales and there he was; long silver hair, eye patch donned proudly, tight black clothing underneath a dark cloak, a dueling sword at his side, a leather bag draped over his shoulder, and all of him glowing ethereally in the moon’s light. It took your breath away, the terrifying beauty of him.
The two dragons screech and croon at each other before flying upwards, circling about and playfully nipping at each other before taking off full speed into the night sky, shooting flames as they did so. The dragons were almost as eager as you and Aemond during these secret meetups. They played until nearly dawn break before they knew it was time to return to their riders.
That left you and Aemond on the now nearly silent beach; the only noticeable sounds were the crashing of the waves and the maddening thumping of your heart.
He starts striding towards you, purpose in his steps. “I insist, every time we meet, you grow taller.” You call out with a mischievous smile. You intend for your tone to be teasing, but it cracks with your eagerness shining through.
He doesn’t say anything in turn, doesn’t waste a moment with a response, and catches you as you leap towards him, knowing he will catch you. His arms encircle you, drawing you in and always making you feel safe, and he brings his face down to kiss you with the intensity and longing only time and distance can bring. Like he forgot the shape of your lips and was desperately trying to forge them into memory.
Finally, he pulls away and gazes down at you, his hair still glowing in the moonlight and flowing about from the breeze coming off the ocean. Your stomach tingles in delight, feeling like a thousand tiny dragons were flying within. “Mmmm. I was certain you were just growing shorter.” You slap his chest, laughing, before rising to meet him for another passionate kiss. He starts leading the two of you towards the cliff face, neither of you willing to separate to watch where you’re going, until eventually he sticks one arm out, keeping the rock wall from hitting your back. The other arm is cinched around your waist, keeping you in orbit.
You pull away and your lips give a wet smack in the separation. “Is that all you’ve noticed of me?” You pant, smiling up at him. Your desire is torn in a million directions. You want to see him, talk with him, tease him, feel him, t a s t e h I m—your time together was never long enough to fully quench all of your needs.
“I suppose not.” His lips quirk slightly, his lone eye raking over you. Fingers run through the ends of your ponytail. “Hair’s grown longer.” He murmurs, pulling out the piece keeping your hair up. You feel it fall and fan around your face and his gaze grows warmer. He raises a finger, taps you on the nose. “More freckles than before.” His finger trails down, slowly over your mouth, until it reaches your chin, and he tilts your whole face up. “Lips as tempting as ever.” He leans in, his face hovering above yours; it takes everything within you to maintain a level head and not grow faint or dizzy. “I’d say you’ve grown more beautiful since last I saw you, but I don’t think that possible.” He answers smoothly, his lips grazing yours as he speaks.
Blood surges in your cheeks, your neck, the tips of your ears. Is this how dragons feel when the warmth of fire surges through them?
You close your eyes, start to lean forward, but find you are met with nothing but air. Your eyes snap open as you gasp and you see him standing back a step, smirking, knowing he got you all flustered.
A whine unintentionally slips past your lips; you suddenly feel abnormally cold without his hands on your person. He chuckles, dropping the bag from his shoulder and letting it slide down his arm. “Gods, I forgot how much of a tease you can be.” You huff out, evening your breathing once more.
“Perhaps you can forgive me once you see what I have to offer.” He reaches into the leather knapsack and pulls out three books, all scuffed, and scarlet backed with golden stitching. You feel shock root you for a moment before you excitedly lean forward, taking them into your arms.
“The Bloodoathe Trilogy! I thought these were lost to time. The library on Dragonstone can’t hold a candle to the one in King’s Landing.”
“That… and I pulled some strings. Contacted a few maesters. Around a score of them. I was able to get them transferred since our last…reunion.” He looks away shyly, not one to normally be over-indulged in his own hubris (at least not in your presence), but he wanted you to know he had a hand in the gift beyond the mere delivery.
“That’s… I don’t have the words Aemond.” Your smile could bring kindling to flame, it was so bright. He took it in, secretly basking in it knowing that he had brought that joy to your person. He loved bringing gifts to every meet-up to watch you become so unapologetically giddy. “You have my thanks.”
You gently take off your own cloak, revealing your fitted dress, and wrap the garment around the books and set them down safely in the sand. Your voice drops low and sultry, sweet as honey. “I suppose the only way I can really show my gratitude…is…” You step forward, running your hand up and down his chest before inching your fingers up and having them ghost along his neck, making it flush red. You lean forward eagerly, watching him intently with your hungry, half-lidded gaze.
It's nearly silent, but you hear a soft moan from him; his neck had always been a weak point. He goes to meet you for a kiss until he feels a pressure against his abdomen. He glances down in a snap, alerted out of his daze, taking a step backwards.
A dagger-in-sheath is pressed against his stomach. You smile earnestly once more, excitement clear in your tone. “…To stab you in the belly.” You finish in a normal tone, happy to have pulled the flirtatious rug out from beneath him this time. He glances to you, then back to the dagger, before slowly taking it from your grasp.
“…Father took me and the boys to a weapons dealer. Apparently the one that he frequented when dealing with the war of the Stepstones.” You filled him in as he unsheathed it, gazing at its onyx blade and jeweled hilt, littered with sapphires. “He insisted I find a weapon to master. You had already taught me self defense with a dagger, so that was my weapon of choice. He bought me a few to train with, but this one” your hand encircled his around the hilt. “I thought of you the moment I saw it. And had to buy it for you.”
He sees the words etched out onto the steel blade. Written in High Valyrian. “ēva hembar jēda…” he speaks the ancient words flawlessly. Until next time.
“That was my own personal touch added to it.” You smile proudly. “I thought it worked as both a romantic reminder and a sort of threat. I did not believe you would appreciate a blade with a love sonnet etched into the side.”
He chuckles briefly and twirled it about in his grasp, testing the weight and the feel of it in his hand. He practiced slicing it through the air, away from you of course. Quick and sure as a viper going for the bite. You admired the way he was able to manipulate it so easily; you knew the time and effort he put into his training to master it. You had seen the dozens of tiny scars that littered his body from the leagues of battle training he had put himself through. All to help compensate for the largest one, across his face.
He smiled fondly down at the fine weapon, before latching it onto his belt and removing the previous one. His gaze is drawn to your waist before he reaches forward and tugs at the empty belt wrapped around you, pulling you forward slightly. He gives a ‘tsk’ of disapproval. “I told you before; it’s not safe for a princess to roam about without some means of defense.” He scolds, lightly but truly.
“Who says I am without defense? I have the biggest line of defense in all of Westeros standing before me.” You slyly respond, then shrug. “Well, perhaps second. Vhagar is fairly formidable.” You raise your eyebrows. “Even third? Ashfall is quite protective of me as well.”
“Hmmm.” He grows warm at being declared your protector, but still does not like the idea of you being without a weapon. “You only see me and Vhagar every third full moon, though. And dragons can only-“ You lean forward and kiss him once more, silencing the scolding. He responds in kind, getting lost in the rush of his senses; you were each other’s greatest addiction and you both needed a fix.
His hand run through your hair and you wrap your arms around his neck; your bodies can’t get close enough, like the spirits are trying to merge but all this pesky flesh is in the way. Your chests collide, his other hand glides along your waist and rests on your hip. An endless wanting is pulling you in deeper, so deep that you feel you’ll never surface-
“Well, this is quite a find.”
The stranger’s voice makes you jolt in alarm. Aemond’s pulled away from you with his sword drawn before you have time to inhale, to really process what’s happening. His back is to you and he has you sandwiched between him and the cliff-face. Though he means to guard you, you can’t help but feel the claustrophobic pressure that you’re also trapped.
About thirty pirates, that you can see at least, have surrounded the two of you and their heinous, gloating smirks reveal who they think has already won this challenge. The moon is bright tonight, but not bright enough to reveal any sort of sigil to see who they align with.
“How…where…?” You whisper, terror soaking in the more you realize what’s happening. You want to scream out for your dragon, but you know she won’t hear you. They’ve flown too far.
“The fog.” Aemond murmurs back. “They must have been stashed in the fog and sailed in.”
“A prince and a princess in our nets. Alone and unguarded. That is dangerous for royalty so young.” The apparent leader voices again. He has a long crop of black hair and patches of beard splotched along his jaw. The lot of them have various weapons drawn. You alone can see a few scimitars, rapiers, short swords, dirks, daggers…
Aemond’s stance remains rigid and wide, trying to shield you from every angle against the swarm of all of them.
“Take a step closer and your bones will be lost between my dragon’s teeth for centuries.” His tone is low and cold; it is a promise more than a threat. One hand holds his sword and the other reaches behind, holding something and you see it. The dagger he had taken off before he chided you for being defenseless. You grab it and start praying that first, you make it out unscathed, and second, he does not recall this ‘I told you so’ moment.
One of the pirates acknowledges the dare, stepping closer to the two of you and glancing around, scoffing. “I see no dragons.”
“Then you must be blind.” You do not know where the sudden confidence in your voice has surged from. Maybe it’s the will to not see Aemond go at this alone. Maybe because you had never felt more naked without Ashfall at your side, and you were trying to overcompensate. Or maybe simply because you are your mother’s child. “Because there are two standing right before you.”
“A lot of high talk for a girl so outnumbered.” His haughtiness is coming off in waves, as he steps forward and makes a gesture to grab at you. “Maybe you won’t be so damn chatty once I knock your teeth down your throat-!”
Swish.
Thump.
Screaming follows as the pirate who threatened you is now holding a bloody, pulsing stump. His hand lays in the sand, its form still looking like it means to grab you.
“Do not touch her.” You can’t see his face from your position, but his voice sends a shover through you. You hadn’t feared Aemond since you met him (no matter how intense or hostile he got as he grew, he never aimed that hostility and intensity towards you.) But you did not recognize the voice of the man in front of you right now. This was battle-trained Aemond. Fight to the death Aemond. Ruthless, cold, calculating, I will eliminate every single enemy until I am the last one standing Aemond. The blood shined on the length of his sword, a crimson cape showing his capability.
The mutilated pirate shoves his hand down into some of the wet clay along the edges of the beach, trying to staunch the bleeding. The head pirate starts to laugh, pointing at his wounded man. “No fuckin’ knife or nothin’. That’s what you get when you launch yourself against a man holding a weapon, shit for brains.” The captain gestures with his sword to the rest of his men. “Whoever captures them will get a heftier portion of the reward money. We have two families to hold ransoms for, more than willing to fork out whatever price we see fit. It will be quite the payout.”
You hear Aemond whisper your name as the crowd of pirates close in around the two of you. You shakily murmur his name back, acknowledging him.
“If they get close to you, remember…” He straightens his stance, twirling his sword. There’s no going back now. “…Go for the eyes.”
He slides forward to closest one, parrying against his scimitar and flinging it from his grasp quickly before slicing up through his chin, killing him quickly, and already moving onto the next one. You two had a shot at winning. Pirates were ruthless and violent, used to overpowering those who were unaware or outnumbered. But Aemond had trained with the sword for years with the finest knights in King’s Landing.
And he’d trained you. Intermittently during your island rendezvous, but still. You hold the dagger securely, your grasp and stance falling into the practiced ones he had drilled into you until they came without thought.
He’s onto the fourth pirate now, who’s using two longswords; even you can tell he’s not competent with either. A pair of pirates come fumbling toward you, one holding a large scimitar and the other with a rusted dirk in his grasp.
You hold your own, dodging the grabs and slices towards you. When one catches your arm holding your weapon, you grab it with the other and slice into the thick of his arm. He yelps “you fuckin’ bitch!” and backs away. The other tries to loudly race forward but stops when a blade exits through the center of his chest; he collapses to the ground and you see Aemond standing there before he twirls about and takes on another two back-to-back.
The lot of them starts to surge forward now, more calculated and cautious seeing that Aemond wasn’t a typical spoiled summer prince with little-to-no fighting experience; he was a force to be reckoned with. They rush at the two of you; Aemond somehow manages to keep a ring clear around himself, the sword swipes keeping a good distance from the enemies, but you can only swipe and dodge so much. One gets too close and you turn the blade sideways, slash through his eyes. Blood sprays over you and he lets out a pained, guttural scream; the combination of the two stun you, making you back away. A hand becomes fisted in your hair and yanks you back.
You yelp in protest, slash behind you, but the assailant knocks the blade out from your grasp and kicks at the back of your legs, making you fall to your knees. He leans forward and grabs the knife from the sand, holding you still despite your fervent struggles.
Aemond is still holding his own, despite the shows of exhaustion starting to peak through. He has taken out almost a dozen of them on his own and is onto the thirteenth when he hears your shriek and someone yell “Oi, my prince!”
He pivots his head briefly, but quickly freezes when he sees you have been brought to your knees, your hands gripping the one clenched in your locks. But the image burning into his eyes is of the pirate, a scraggly man with tattoos sprawled over his arms and chest, and him holding Aemond’s own dagger against your face.
Pressed against your closed eye, to be exact.
“Maybe you ough’ calm down, less you wan’ the bof of you t’have a matchin’ pair…” He huffs out a laugh, pulling on your hair once more and making you shriek out. You can feel the point of the dagger heavy on your eyeball and you feel a mixture of fear for potentially losing your vision, and a wash of guilt from the pale, petrified look on Aemond’s face.
The threat is enough to have Aemond give pause, leading the pirates to take advantage. Soon they’re on top of him, working the sword from his hold and bringing him facedown to the ground, kicking and punching at him as they do so; retribution for their fallen comrades.
You scream out his name, for them to leave him alone, but the dagger is pulled away from risk, and you are pushed face first into the sand. The pirate keeping you captive first puts a gag in your mouth and then yanks your arms behind your back and starts to tie them at the wrist, ceasing your movements. The captain strides forward the two of you and kneels, grinning at the catch. Now that he’s closer, you can see the jewels sprinkled throughout his mouth.
“Sorry for the gag, love. Don’t want to risk you calling out to your hell-beasts. Figured t’was more preferrable than slicin’ out your tongue.”