Aemon Targaryen (107 A.C. Ninth Moon)
King's Landing – Aemon's Room
Sleep had come to him easily, the kind of rest one hopes for when going to bed. His eyes slowly opened to the morning sunlight leaking through the rafters. Yet the sight his eyes, and nose, enjoyed most were the locks of Laena's silver curls, their soft strands brushing against his face, carrying a faint, pleasant scent.
His body was pressed against hers, her warmth comforting in a way few things ever had. He knew this feeling well. These were the quiet moments, the rare ones, where the world did not matter. Only them. Only this. His mind, so often burdened, found peace here, a peace he could only ever seem to find in a woman's warmth.
His hand rested around her waist, holding her close as his thoughts drifted to a song.
"For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman's hands are warm," he hummed softly.
The gentle sound stirred Laena, and she shifted in his arms, turning to face him. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, yet filled with contentment. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
"Morning."
"Morning," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep yet happy.
He smiled, studying her face, the face that made him feel warm, the face he could lose himself in.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
Lemon-warning
"I feel well… and happy," she replied, before pulling him closer and kissing him again.
He groaned softly as his chest pressed against her breasts, his hand roaming along her side as their kiss deepened. His tongue met hers, slow at first, then with growing hunger.
His hand moved lower, finding her cunt already wet. He rubbed her slowly, drawing a soft moan from her lips as she broke the kiss. His own body responded instantly, hardening against her thigh.
"Aemon…" she purred, her hand finding his cock in turn, stroking him gently. He let out a low groan.
He kissed her again, hunger overtaking restraint, trailing lower to her neck and chest, drawing her nipple into his mouth.
The fire within him grew stronger, undeniable, as he shifted himself between her legs. He paused, meeting her eyes, those violet eyes that held both warmth and desire. She smiled, pulling him into another kiss.
Laena broke it, breathless. "Take me."
He grinned and settled his tip against her entrance. His eyes widened with desire as he felt Laena's warmth envelop him. He slowly pushed himself deeper, savoring every inch as her tight walls stretched to accommodate him. Laena gasped and arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest.
Aemon groaned as she tightened around him. Control slipped from him, and he began to move.
Fuck, a dragon's heat is something. What is it with Targaryen cunts? He groaned internally. "Laena," he moaned into her neck.
"Oh gods, Aemon…" she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure. "You feel so good inside me."
Aemon groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He began to move more quickly, thrusting in and out of her at a steady pace. The sound of their bodies coming together filled the room, mingling with Laena's soft moans and his grunts of exertion. His hands roamed over her body possessively, squeezing her breasts and gripping her hips. He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, changing the angle and allowing him to penetrate even deeper. Laena cried out, her nails digging into his back.
He groaned, the act making everything feel more intense. "Fuck, Laena," he groaned into her neck as he pulled her closer. He felt her tighten around him. She's close, he thought through the haze.
His thumb found her clit, circling it gently as he continued to thrust into her. Laena's back arched, pressing her breasts against his chest as she let out a shuddering moan, climaxing.
He groaned, the feeling overwhelming, yet he continued to thrust slowly, even as his own climax drew near. After a moment, Laena returned from the haze of her peak.
"Aemon… I love you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion and desire. "I love you so much."
Aemon leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth gently, tasting her sweetness as he continued to move within her. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.
"I love you too," he replied, capturing her lips in another slower, deeper kiss.
He felt it then, the crest of his own release.
"Fuck," he groaned, giving a few final thrusts before spilling himself inside her.
Lemon end.
He collapsed gently against her, both of them breathing heavily, their bodies still entwined. For a time, neither spoke. The world beyond the chamber did not exist.
Only the steady rhythm of their breaths, the warmth between them, and the quiet after the storm.
Eventually, he shifted, rolling off her onto his back while keeping her close. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as it slowly calmed.
"I do not mind waking up beside you… from now on," he murmured.
Laena tilted her head slightly, looking up at him. "You wouldn't? Normally, husbands and wives have separate chambers."
"No, I would not mind at all," he said, his hand moving gently through her hair. "We still can, of course. You would have your own space, as I have. I have my solar, my study, in Seadragon Point after all."
He paused, his fingers brushing her cheek. "But sleeping beside you… holding you like this… I would not mind that. Not ever."
Laena smiled softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns along his chest.
"Good," she whispered. "Because I would not like sleeping alone again."
He let out a quiet chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Then it is settled."
He sighed as he rose from the bed and slapped Laena playfully on her ass.
"Hey!" she protested, though her face showed happiness; she enjoyed it.
"Oh, come, Laena," he said as he pushed her back into the bed. "I know you liked that," he noted, kissing her passionately.
Laena kissed him back but gasped as he rose, taking his morning robe from the stand and putting it on. He then relieved himself in the chamber's outlet.
Afterward, he turned toward Laena. "Shall I order a bath?"
"Oh, please, I wouldn't mind one," she muttered, sighing in relief before rising from the bed.
He took in her naked form and sighed contentedly.
"Do you see something you like?" Laena asked as she went to relieve herself.
"Of course I do. I see a Valyrian goddess in front of me."
Laena chuckled as she rose and cleaned herself with a cloth before walking toward him and kissing him again.
"Well, if I'm a Valyrian goddess, then you're a god."
He smiled. "Well, this god would claim you again," he noted, grabbing her ass and pulling her close. "Yet if we do not take a bath, we will be late for the first jousts."
Laena sighed into his chest. "Very well. But do not think I will wait until tonight."
Aemon's cock stirred at those words. "I shall wait for what you have in mind," he said, kissing her forehead. "Wait in the bed. It will take some time for the water to be brought."
Laena gave him a smirk.
He walked toward the door and opened it, where one of his manservants was waiting to take his orders. This time it was Matthew, who had been given the morning shift.
"A bath for two. Bring comfortable clothes for Laena that she might wear when we break our fast. Also, arrange for Seranella Velaryon to be brought here so she can help her dress."
He also saw his Oathguards waiting on either side of the door. Harrold and Jeffery had taken their leave from their night watch, it seemed.
"Good morning, Your Grace. I pray you had a good night and morning," Ser Desmond said.
Ser Edric sniffled a laugh, and Aemon rolled his eyes. They had heard them. Well, it was not surprising; he and Laena had been rather loud.
"A bit of advice for you both," Aemon said. "Bring bliss to a woman in bed, and the spoils will be sweeter than honey."
He closed the door, leaving them to ponder.
Returning inside, he let the robe slip from his shoulders and approached Laena once more. She was already waiting for him, her back turned, her body inviting, with that same playful, knowing look in her eyes.
Lemon warning.
"Impatient," he murmured, as his cock hardened at the sight.
"Always," she replied softly.
He placed his hands on her hips and quickly pushed himself inside her. Both gasped from the act.
Aemon's hands gripped Laena's hips tightly as he thrust into her, his pace quick and urgent. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their gasps and moans.
"Fuck, Laena," he grunted, his fingers digging into her flesh. "You feel so good."
Laena pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. Her inner walls clenched around him, drawing him deeper with each movement.
"Aemon," she panted, her voice strained with pleasure. "Harder… please…"
He groaned as he obliged her, slamming into her with increased force. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard banging against the wall in a steady rhythm. He leaned over her, his chest pressed against her back. His hand snaked around to find her clit, circling it rapidly as he continued to thrust into her.
Aemon's hips moved with a frenzied pace, his length plunging into her heat. The room filled with the sounds of their coupling—the wet slap of flesh, their ragged breaths, and the creaking of the bed.
"Ah… fuck…" Aemon groaned, his grip tightening. He buried his face in her neck, his teeth grazing her skin.
"So fucking good…"
Laena arched beneath him, pushing back to meet each powerful thrust. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, searching for something to anchor herself. "Yes… just like that… don't stop…"
His thrusts became more urgent. Fuck, I have no stamina for this, he thought as his hips moved relentlessly.
"Fuck… I'm close," he gritted out.
He rolled his hips, grinding against her with each thrust. The new angle pushed her closer to the edge.
"Aemon… yes… right there…" she cried out.
With a final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her and held still. "Fuck… Laena…"
He gave a few smaller thrusts before stilling, panting against her neck, kissing it.
"Well… that was quick, but… passionate."
"I didn't peak, but it was good," she muttered, exhausted.
Lemon end.
He grinned as he slipped out of her and fell onto the bed. Aemon looked toward Laena, doing the same. "I'm sorry I couldn't last longer."
"Doesn't matter. It was still good," she said, kissing him.
A knock on the door made them both sigh.
"Longer than I thought, then," he muttered as he put on a robe and walked to the door. He glanced back at Laena, who had covered herself with a blanket.
Servants entered, carrying two large barrels, filling the large bronze bath, big enough for at least three people if squeezed. He had requested a larger one so he could bathe comfortably with Laena, though he still had a smaller bath for quick or solitary use.
"You may leave. And have our meal brought to my solar. I suspect we will be done in about a quarter candle," he told Matthew, who nodded.
After they left, Aemon stepped into the hot water.
"Come, and make up for peaking too quickly," he muttered, earning a chuckle from Laena.
Laena entered the bath, sighing contentedly as she leaned back against him. She took his hand and guided it lower.
"Well," she murmured.
Aemon chuckled, kissing her neck as he began his work.
Alicent Hightower (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
King's Landing – The Tourney Ground
Alicent sat in the lower seats together with Laenor, Visenya, Arya, Bennard, Rhaenyra, Seranella, and two nephews of Lord Corlys. They all waited now for the King to arrive, as well as the new royal couple. Oh, it still hurt her, and Alicent could only hope that one day she would find a husband like him. Yet she still did not know what to make of it all. And she still was not wed, even at nine and ten. True, she did not come with a massive dowry, as Laena did. Yet she was still a daughter of House Hightower, and the daughter of the Hand of the King. She knew her father had received offers over the years, and even lords' sons had courted her, before the whole Daemon debacle. Now her father was waiting for something. If he had planned something, she did not know what it was, and that thought troubled her.
Her thoughts were broken as Ser Ryam announced the King's arrival.
"His Grace, King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."
The crowd, and those in their seats, rose and clapped. The King was clothed in fine silks of black and red, with the Targaryen sigil embroidered in golden thread in the center of his red-and-black doublet. Over it, he wore a black cloak with golden shoulder pieces shaped like dragons. Upon his head sat the golden crown of the Conciliator, while his golden-silver hair hung long and loose upon his shoulders. He looked like a king, yet she had seen Aemon yesterday, and if she had not known who the King was, she might have mistaken Aemon for him instead.
The King waved toward the crowd and took his seat. Her father already stood beside the King's seat, and two more empty seats remained beside Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, and Princess Lyanna Stark Targaryen.
A few moments later, Aemon and Laena entered, walking hand in hand.
"Prince Aemon Targaryen, Prince of Seadragon Point, and his lady wife, Princess Laena Velaryon Targaryen."
The crowd clapped once more, and Aemon looked even more regal than the King, and incredibly handsome besides. His curls waved lightly in the wind, and the outfit of white, gold, black, and red made him stand out all the more. Especially the breastplate he wore, worked in dragon-scale patterns, with his personal sigil displayed upon it. Beneath the breastplate, he wore a richly decorated gambeson, and over it a cape fastened with a beautifully made pin depicting a dragon and a wolf, its colors once more matching his sigil.
Laena wore a gown of black and red, with golden threads of flame embroidered across it. Only her shoulders bore something different, the Targaryen sigil upon the right, and the sigil of House Velaryon upon the left. Yet what shook Alicent the most was the wondrous necklace around her neck, one she had not seen before. It was of Valyrian steel, and in its center the Velaryon seahorse was entwined with the Targaryen dragon.
Her hair was done in an intricate braid, one Alicent herself had done many times for Rhaenyra. Upon her brow, she wore a silver tiara set with red rubies.
After they both waved to the crowd, Aemon took his place on the King's right, and Laena sat beside him. Once they were seated, the King rose again.
"People of King's Landing and Westeros, be welcome to the Games of Love and Heirship. In honor of my soon-to-be-born heir, and my brother, Prince Aemon of Seadragon Point, and his marriage to the now Princess Laena Velaryon Targaryen."
Applause resounded throughout the entire jousting arena.
"I know many of you have traveled long distances to be at these games, but I promise you, you will not be disappointed. When I look upon the fine knights in these lists, I see a company without equal in our histories." It was true that many had come, but Alicent doubted it would be as grand as the one at the Golden Wedding.
"During this week, we shall have jousts, for the champion to proclaim his love and beauty. Afterward, there shall be a melee and archery competitions. In the name of the Crown, enjoy the festivities."
The King announced it to the crowd, and they roared in response.
Afterward, the herald stepped forward.
"We all thank His Grace, King Viserys Targaryen, for these festivities. For today's joust, knights of low renown and squires may enter the lists, to fight for honor and glory, and for right to join the knights, and riders of renown on the morrow, where they shall be lot against one another, or be chosen by Prince Aemon, squire to Ser Harrold Westerling, or the Prince of the City, Prince Daemon Targaryen. To ride against them in their first tillt."
The crowd clapped, and then, instead of the usual pairing of two riders facing each other, five riders would face one another in each grouping, a way to shorten the field and determine which lesser-known men might join the riders of higher renown.
The horn blast sounded, and the people shouted as the horses and riders charged. In the first pass, two of the ten riders went down. In the second, another fell, and only on the fourth did yet another tumble. Two charges ended with seven lances remaining.
A knight named Ser Osferd Ironspear unhorsed his challenger, Ser Alester of Pinkmaiden. The King rose after Ser Osferd helped his opponent to his feet.
"For their valor and skill, both Ser Alester and Ser Osferd are allowed to continue into the next round."
The crowd cheered, and Ser Osferd gave the King a grateful bow.
"Ser Alester was good, despite his loss," Rhaenyra commented, and Alicent nodded.
"Indeed, it was a kind thing your father did."
Rhaenyra smiled as her gaze shifted toward the new knights and squires arriving. "Do you know any of them?"
Alicent looked toward the sigils, not recognizing them at once. Then she saw a green leaf upon a field of setting sun.
"I think I see one of Aemon's guards."
Rhaenyra's eyes widened as she saw it too. "Indeed, it is Ser Jeffery. I do not know if he has ever won a tourney before, or when he was knighted. I only know he came with Aemon when he first returned here."
Then, to their surprise, Visenya shouted from beside them, "Go, Ser Jeffery!"
The knight looked toward them and raised his lance to the stands, beside Visenya. Laenor, Seranella, and their cousins laughed and began cheering for him as well.
Alicent and Rhaenyra laughed too, and added their own cheer. Soon, the whole crowd had begun chanting his name. Lucky for them, as the joust went on, Ser Jeffery did not disappoint, winning against his opponent in the second round.
To their surprise, Ser Jeffery rode up to the stand.
"Princess Visenya, I humbly ask for your favor during this tournament." Alicent had seen Ser Jeffery before with Aemon, yet now he looked every inch the gallant knight.
"Of course, Ser," Visenya said as she rose and gave him her favor.
"I am going to try to be worthy of it, and may even face your brothers during the joust, if I am so fortunate." After he rode away, to loud cheers, Alicent suspected Ser Jeffery would become the crowd's favorite.
It was midday when a halt was called, so that the joust might pause for a time. The nobles and the King remained in the stands while food and refreshments were brought, or went to the privy, something Alicent herself longed to do. As for the crowd, she saw pieces of bread thrown among them, while the throwers cried, "Granted by Prince Aemon himself."
She looked toward Aemon, who gave her a smile.
She did not know how much time had passed before the horns sounded once more for another round of jousts.
"My ladies, my lords, this morning we have seen the jousting of fine knights, squires, and men-at-arms. Now only forty remain, and of that forty, only ten will qualify to join the knights in tomorrow's lists. Let the best jouster win."
The herald's words were met by applause from Alicent and roars from the rest of the crowd.
The first four jousts were once more fought five on five lances. To her delight, and that of the crowd, favorites such as Ser Jeffery, Ser Alester, and Ser Osferd all made it through to the final twenty, and all now lined up before the dais.
The King rose. "I thank all the combatants who have made it this far. You have entertained us all. Ride well, and earn the honor of riding with knights and riders of renown."
All the knights raised their lances. Then a servant came forth carrying twenty sticks. "Choose your stick. You will ride against the man bearing the same number engraved upon it. It will also determine when you joust."
To her sadness, and that of the crowd, Ser Jeffery was matched with Ser Alester in the final joust. One of the better knights would not ride on the morrow.
Yet to her delight, Ser Osferd made it through, unhorsing his opponent in three charges. The other eight contenders jousted well, yet none captured the crowd as Ser Alester or Ser Jeffery did. One was upheld for his valor and skill, the other for carrying the favor of a princess of the realm. It was not something the crowd would soon forget.
Then the horns sounded once more, long and deep, rolling across the tourney grounds like distant thunder.
A hush fell over the crowd as the final pair rode forward.
Ser Jeffery Trueleaf guided his horse into position, the green leaf upon his shield catching the sunlight. Across from him, Ser Alester of Pinkmaiden lowered his visor, his armor bearing the scars of earlier tilts, yet still proud and unyielding.
Between them stretched the length of the lists.
"Ride true!" the herald called.
For a heartbeat, all was still.
Then the horn blared.
They charged.
Hooves thundered against the earth, kicking up dust as both knights lowered their lances. The distance vanished in an instant. A loud crack echoed across the tourney ground.
Both lances struck true. Ser Alester's blow glanced off Jeffery's shield, splintering along the rim, while Jeffery's lance struck square against Alester's breastplate, shattering into a spray of wooden shards.
Neither fell.
The crowd roared in approval.
"Again!" came the cry.
Servants rushed forward, handing fresh lances to both men. Jeffery rolled his shoulder once, steadying himself, then briefly lifted his lance toward the stands, toward Visenya.
Then he turned back.
The horn sounded again. They charged a second time.
Faster now. Harder.
Crack.
This time Alester's lance struck clean, catching Jeffery high upon the shoulder. The force drove him back in the saddle, his grip tightening as his horse surged forward.
Jeffery's own strike landed a heartbeat later, splintering against Alester's shield, but without the same force.
Still, both men remained seated.
A cheer of delight spread through the crowd.
Two passes. No victor.
The tension thickened.
For the third tilt, neither knight needed prompting.
They wheeled their horses sharply, taking their marks with grim determination.
Jeffery adjusted his grip, lowering his lance with care. Across the field, Alester dipped his head slightly, as if in respect.
The horn sounded.
They charged.
This time there was no hesitation, no testing strike. Both men committed fully.
The world seemed to narrow to a single line between them.
The ground trembled beneath pounding hooves.
Closer.
Closer.
Crack!
Jeffery's lance struck first. It hit Alester square in the center of his breastplate, the wood exploding upon impact. The force drove through armor and into flesh, causing Ser Alester to miss his own target entirely, striking only air as his body lifted from the saddle.
And then he fell.
He struck the ground hard, rolled once, and came to a stop in the dust.
A gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by a deafening roar.
Jeffery rode on for a few paces before reining in sharply and turning his horse at once. Without hesitation, he cast aside the broken shaft of his lance and dismounted, striding quickly toward his fallen opponent.
Ser Alester stirred, groaning as he pushed himself onto one elbow.
Jeffery reached him and offered a hand.
"Ride well, Ser," Jeffery said, his voice carrying just enough for those closest to hear.
Alester looked up at him, then took the offered hand.
"And you, Ser," he replied, gripping firmly as Jeffery pulled him to his feet.
The crowd cheered louder still.
Upon the dais, the King rose, smiling broadly.
"Ser Jeffery Trueleaf," Viserys declared, his voice echoing across the grounds, "you have ridden with skill and honor. You shall ride on the morrow among knights of renown."
Another wave of cheers followed.
Jeffery bowed deeply, first to the King.
Then, turning, he lifted his gaze toward the stands.
Toward Visenya, and then toward Aemon, his benefactor and lord.
After the King sat back down, Aemon rose and walked toward the lower part of the dais. Ser Alester still waited for the ceremony to end.
"Ser Alester, you have ridden well. Do you have a lord you serve?"
Ser Alester's eyes widened at Aemon. "Currently, my prince, I have taken service in the past at Pinkmaiden, under Lord Olyvar Piper, for several years, until his passing a few moons ago. I wish now to travel and find renown in the lists."
"Then would you be inclined to join my retinue?" Aemon asked.
Ser Alester's eyes widened again, and he dropped to one knee. "I would, my prince. I would be honored."
At that, the crowd cheered.
"Then on the morrow, come by the Red Keep. Speak to Ser Harrold. He shall inform you of your duties."
The knight nodded gratefully and walked away beside Ser Jeffery.
Then Aemon asked for the crowd to quiet down.
"I thank you all for your presence here today, and this week, in honor of my lady wife and me, and in honor of our future prince," Aemon said, looking toward the King, who smiled. Then he turned back to the crowd.
"On the morrow, I shall give you all something to cheer for."
Aemon raised his hands to the crowd, and at once they began to chant his name, or else his moniker.
The White Dragon.