House of the Dragon Oneshots

Perfect

Description: Aemond is self-conscious about his scar and refuses to let you see his face when being intimate. As his lover, you take it upon yourself to show him how attractive you find him.

Pairing: Aemond x reader

Content warning: explicit oral

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Aemond Targaryen is perfection. With his striking features and intimidating height, he commands the attention of every room he enters. His ethereal white hair and leather-clad figure make him almost superlunary. He is the strongest swordsman in King's Landing and one of the most promising intellects. Yes, to you, he is perfect. To Aemond, it is a different story.

You wouldn't dare accuse him of being humble. He always held an aura of princely pride about him. Still, there was always something he felt could be improved. He trains constantly; his idea of relaxing is to study history. Though he is fluent in High Valyrain, he religiously attends lessons—perhaps that is partially so he can mock his older brother who struggles with the language.

His ability to find flaws in himself was one of the traits that surprised you most when you became his lover. That, of course, and his sexual appetite. The man was insatiable.

It took many years of awkward conversations in corridors and barely-there touches at banquets for you two to finally consummate your desires for each other. In fact, you did not believe your feelings were reciprocated by the dashing yet stoic prince until your nameday last year. Having spent the last several years in King's Landing for your father's duties, it had never come into question that you leave until your parents broached the subject that night. They suggested returning to your ancestral home to live with your grandparents after being away for so long.

The first person you told of the choice put on you was Aemond, who was hiding from the celebrations on the balcony. He kissed you before you could finish your sentence. It had stunned you into silence. After blankly staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time, he began to apologize for his actions. Before he could finish, you kissed him back.

Thus began your love affair with the man you had admired for years. It didn't matter to him that your family's status was too low for a prince and it didn't matter to you that a marriage could not be promised. All that mattered was that you had each other fully for what little time the gods would grant you.

You quickly noticed a pattern during your amorous interludes: Aemond hid his face. At first, you thought it was a personal preference for certain positions, but he was persistent even when you tried to switch things up. Whether he was buried between your thighs or nuzzled into your neck, he diligently ensured you never saw his face when you peaked. More often than not, he would take you from behind so you wouldn't catch a glimpse of him for the entire affair.

One night, languishing naked in each other's arms, you asked him. That was when he admitted he did not believe you could enjoy yourself if you had to see his face. The words he used to describe himself broke your heart. Disfigured. Grotesque. He spoke of it calmly, with a detached coolness like he was stating a simple fact.

"I am not unaware of the effect my scar has on others," he had said, kissing the top of your head, "I do not wish for you to pretend for my sake."

You knew his injury from his childhood was a trauma that he carried with him every day, but you never could've imagined Aemond Targaryen truly thought himself ugly, too ugly for you to find completion while looking at him. Despite your insistence that he is the most handsome man you had ever met, he ended the conversation. You did not wish to push him so you stopped. Still, you didn't stop trying to prove it to him during your intimate moments.