DANCING WITH DRAGONS ;; a collection of imagines.

aemond targaryen ; balerions skull

⁀➷ summary ; drabble requested by anon for my 1k follower celebration on tumblr.

"can I request no.17 from the romantic confessions prompt list for aemond?"
"17. for years i have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence."

⁀➷ pairing ; aemond targaryen x reader

⁀➷ notes ; no mention of incest,, but you're betrothed to one of the velaryon boys.

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he's unsure if you would come.

doubt clouds his mind, clinging to it like a hungry leech to broken skin. he's finding himself to fall more and more into a pit of despair at your actions and he can't help but feel unnerved at the notion.

what was this?

aemond's mind further swirls with a faded anger about the events that had just taken place. how jacaerys toasted to aegon and himself – an action that aemond would've happily given into, except for the fact that lucerys' lips curled into a sneerful grin at the arrival of a roasted pig.

that set aemond off.

when he toasted to his strong nephews, he unknowingly insulted you in the process; seeing as you were set to marry one of the bastards. he normally doesn't think through his actions when he's driven by rage, but when he watched your face fall from happiness, he knew he crossed a line – yet, he was unapologetic to his nephews.

not when his mother berated him quietly or when jacaerys' flea bite of a punch connected with his jaw, but when he watched your face contort into something resembling betrayal and hurt.

you thought you were friends.

this.. feeling of being choked up, the feeling of heat rising within his clothes to make his skin clammy, and the plethora of feelings that he couldn't recognize were none of the things that the poets had mentioned. maybe the poets were liars and this wasn't what they say it was.

he doesn't cherish the feeling, not one bit. it made him feel weak, and he did not enjoy feeling weak.

he hears the incoming sounds of heels and looks up from his seated position beneath balerions skull, pulling away his thumbs that were obviously chewed on. he wipes them as if cleansing his actions from the skin.

aemond rises when he sees you within view and his heart warms with realization.

you came.

"aemond?" you call out, brows furrowing as you pull your thick shawl closer around you. your eyes travel to the figurine on display: balerion the black dread. you've never seen anything like it. you return your attention to aemond, again, "why have you summoned me here?"

"you came," aemond's voice is breathy and quiet, still taken aback at the fact that you came.

"i'm standing here, aren't i?" aemond feels the corner of his lips twitch into a poor resemblance of a smile. he revels in the comfort of your fidelity.

flames of light dance from the tops of wicked candles, basking you and aemond into a soft, amber glow. his mouth has run dry at this point, but he swallows it down and moves to grasp your arms with his. his hold is embracing and comforting – a voiceless apology evident in the touch.

"he does not deserve you," he breathes, eyes scattering to observe the fine features of your face that were alit by the candles. "for years i have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence."

the confession is less than surprising; aemond has always made his affections known. despite his cruelty towards his nephews, he kept his anger to a minimum around you – keeping you from seeing the haunting side of him. there was always a lingering stare or touch, or an eagerness to take your hand first.

betrothal seemed to mean very little to him.

you open your mouth to object, to ask him if this was his cruel way of shaming you for being arranged to marry his hated nephew, but his interruption stops you.

"i have not been the most gracious of hosts, i know. but ask yourself, are you truly happy?"

for a moment you're quiet, weighing your next thoughts on your tongue before you actually say them, "you sound like a poet, aemond."

aemond wants to allow an amused air shoot from his nostrils, but he's begging for an answer to his unasked question.

"it's a way i found to express myself to you." the next confession is more subtle, his voice filled with a pained longing. your name falls from his lips like a plea, a prayer that you would forsake your duty for him – an action no one else has yet done for him.

you're left voiceless, thoughts scrambling for any viable recognition of duty and honor that's yours. admittedly, you liked this; the feeling of being sought after even if things seemed impossible. the shared longing, the same desire; all these things could be yours by a simple word of affirmation.

a word that leaves you without hesitance.

"yes."