Of Tridents and Swords

Part 2

Your night was spent rolling from one side of the bed to the other, trying to fall asleep, even if it only was for a few minutes or an hour. But you didn't get any sleep that night. Aemond Targaryen had ruined your sleep schedule. And he had ruined you.

Whenever your thoughts strayed back to the events of last night in the library, you not only felt a tinge of arousal gushing out of your cunt, you also cringed a bit.

It was a mystery to you, how easily he had managed to flip the switch in you, without even doing much. You had never willingly threw yourself onto a man in that kind of manner before, let alone found it appropriate to rut against him to get off and come undone. You were not sure if Aemond brought out the best - a certain boldness and striving for independence - or the worst - giving in to the raw lust - in you. The only thing you were sure of was, that you were greedy for more. Greedy for him.

With the sun peaking through the windows of your chambers, you stirred awake, a loud groan filling the silence of the room. Before you even had the chance to drift off to sleep again, the footsteps of multiple maids approaching your room did not allow it.

All you heard was a "Good morning, my Lady", with the maids speaking in union, before they urged you to get up and into the bathroom. However, you felt irritated - the lack of sleep and your denied orgasm surely taking their tolls on you.

At least the bath was a bit warmer than usual, and the calming scent of lavender in combination with the maids gently scrubbing your body managed to lull you back to sleep. And even then you dreamed of Aemond. He seemed to haunt you. Your days and nights were spent dreaming of him, sometimes imagining how it had to feel to lose your maidenhood to him, and other times you only thought about him courting you, publicly displaying affection and maybe even showing you a certain tenderness. But you were not sure if he was capable of that.

The one thing you were sure to know of Aemond was, that he was a man of duty. He did not necessarily was a man of honor - the little act he pulled the night before clearly gave it away - but he had a sense of duty, and that made him dangerous.

The short nap in the bathtub did not calm your irritation, but definitely helped with your tiredness and the exhaustion you felt.

Once you got out of the tub and the maids dried you off, they helped you slipping into the dress you had chosen the day before. And with you now sitting in front of the vanity, it was your lady-in-waiting's turn. She always managed to braid your hair in the most beautiful ways possible, and you knew she was going to outdo herself this time.

A carriage brought you, your mother and father, and Torrhen to the arena where the tourney was taking place. You were antsy, to say the least. Not because you did not know who was going to win and take your hand in marriage, but because you were afraid you had trusted Aemond too easily. Was Aemond sitting in the royal box alongside your family? Was it just a joke and he wanted to give you false hopes only to crush them in front of everyone of the court? You weren't sure. And maybe your initial irritation had you imagining things that weren't right.

Your palms were sweaty, and you resisted the urge to rub them along the blue-greenish fabric of your dress. By the look your mother gave you, you knew your nervousness was fairly visible for everyone around you. You tried to shoot her a reassuring smile, but the way it faltered and not even reached your eyes did not help.

It was the hand of your father taking yours, which pulled your attention from your mother to him. "Stay calm, Y/N," his voice was soft, „It is possible Lord Cregan Stark wins the tourney. He is a fine man, and I am sure he would make an even better husband." He was trying to calm you, and in a way, it worked. Marrying Cregan Stark wasn't the worst thing that could happen, but he still wasn't Aemond.