House of the Dragon Oneshots

Blood Debts

A/N: You thought I could end their relationship on a positive? Nope! This is the continuation of the previous chapter, Lucerys. You don't have to read it, all you need to know is that the reader has a child with Aemond and has recently found out he killed her brother, Lucerys. My poor baby deserves justice (still love Aemond tho).

Description: An eye for an eye, a son for a son, or however the saying goes.

Pairings: Aemond x reader

Content warnings: technically kidnapping? Nothing but angst.

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That seedling of hope planted in your heart at Aemond's kindness and eloquence? It withers, as it turns out.

Now that you were no longer locking yourself away in your room, you have been hearing more about the war that has broken out. You've learned of your mother's stillbirth, her declaration of war after finding Arrax's head washed ashore at Dragonstone, and you hear more of what Aemond has done. He fights for the Greens, there was no doubt about it. And he fought viciously.

Your breaking point, however, was learning of the feast he held to celebrate killing your brother. You understood the dangers of admitting that the Targaryens didn't have control of their dragons. You understood it would undermine their entire house and crumble the foundation of the kingdom. But it still fills you with disgust to see your husband play into his new title of kinslayer.

Despite this heartbreaking news, the worst whispers you overhear are not of Aemond's deeds, but of you and your son. You are wed to "King" Aegon's brother, yes. But you are not ignorant of your precarious situation. You are still the enemy's daughter and Baenor is her first grandchild. It was only a matter of time before that fact was used against her.

Currently, Aemond sits beside you, soothing a fussy Baenor. He keeps one arm firmly around you, holding you close to him—something he's been more prone to lately. He sings softly in High Valyrian until Baenor calms. You stare forward blankly, ignoring the thrumming in your heart. Once the baby has fallen asleep, Aemond carefully places him in his crib and returns to your side.

"Are you well, my love?"

As he asks this, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, running his finger along the shell. It sends shivers up your body. The gentleness is too much for you to bear and you look away. But his fingers curl under your chin and carefully turn you back to face him. His pale eye scrutinizes your expression.

"Have you been taking the teas the maester prescribed?" he asks.

You can't stand how sweet he is to you. It was becoming suffocating. Every loving caress and kind word felt like a spear to your heart. He had no right to touch you like a precious treasure with hands that still held the blood of your family.

What made you feel worse, though, was how your body still leaned into his touch. How your heart yearned for his presence. The bitter taste of betrayal that arose every time you return his touch was not enough to erase your love for him.

"I am just tired," you say, "Now that Baenor is down, I wish to rest."

"Of course, my love."

His hand drops from your chin to your lap, taking your hand from where it limply rested. He watches his thumb trace idle shapes over your knuckles.

"Would you like me to stay?" he offers softly.

With his head still tilted towards your joined hands, he glances up at you. There is a longing in his eye that matches your own heart. The prickling in your hand begs you to take his offer.