Arya Targaryen (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
King's Landing – Throneroom
Arya didn't like King's Landing. Even now, after so many years, it brought back memories of her father's death. Yet seeing her brother so happy, to be wed to someone she admired, softened those thoughts somewhat. Laena Velaryon wasn't a highborn southern lady of the courtly sort. She was a dragonrider who enjoyed sword fighting, archery, riding, and many other things Arya herself liked.
Although Laena did like the stories Sansa loved, as did her sister, Visenya, who, in many ways, was similar to Laena, if anything, Visenya was perhaps even more daring. To Arya's own horror, the two women had the same taste in men.
When Aemon had told her and her mother about her sister's feelings, she had shuddered. She could never think of Aemon that way. He had always been her brother, and she had always grown up a Stark. Even now, for most of her life, she had lived in the North.
Yet when her mother explained it, Visenya had never truly been the same as her. Visenya had always been a Targaryen, raised on the stories of her family and their history. So to Visenya, it wasn't strange in the same way. Even their mother found it difficult, having been raised a Stark but knowing the histories of the Targaryens.
Now, sometimes when Arya saw Visenya looking at Aemon, it reminded her of Sansa. There was the same longing. Arya had learned over many years to observe people, and now she saw something she had not before understood. Sansa, to her surprise, had once been in love with, or perhaps had desired, Aemon. The jealousy Sansa had once shown toward Daenerys likely stemmed partly from that. Yet Aemon or Jon back then was something Sansa never could have. She was his half-sister when Daenerys was back then only a Targaryen Queen.
To be honest, thinking about it, could she really blame Sansa for desiring, or loving, Jon or Aemon? No, Sansa had told her what happened to her, and perhaps when she finally felt safe. Those feelings were sent over from safety, to love or desire. In many ways, Gendry was that for her. He had protected her when they traveled the Kingsroad with Joren. Later, when they had seen each other, it just felt natural. She didn't deny Gendry had grown into an attractive man. So when she thought she might die that very night, she wanted to feel something, wanted to feel love.
Not that it matters now, Sansa and Gendery were gone, as were the rest. They were ghosts of another life.
"Arya?" She looked up and saw Bennard standing there, her little cousin of seven namedays. "Hey."
"Do you want to dance?" he asked shyly, and she heard Visenya chuckle beside her.
Arya blushed. She had never been one who desired attention, but looking at her cousin, she sighed softly. "Very well," she muttered.
She took Bennard's hand and let him lead her to the dance floor.
It wasn't the dance Aemon had performed with Laena today and yesterday, but a light childish dance she used to indulge in at Winterfell with either Robb or Aemon, and sometimes Bran.
Yet both her cousins now were wonderful. Rickon reminded her of Robb, if a bit more stern and harsher. Perhaps not being raised with the Faith of the Seven had something to do with that.
Bennard was still a child, wild but knowing when to listen, and he was very excited to become Aemon's future squire. Good, she thought. Perhaps a different upbringing would prevent him from trying to become a usurper one day.
As for her uncle, he was stern, a Stark through and through, yet he held to duty as her father would have. Even now, Benjen stood strong among the lords of the realm. There was a confidence about the man that not many possessed. Benjen knew his standing in the realm, and he stood beside Aemon, beside the true power of the Targaryen family, especially after Aemon's discovery of Valyrian steel had been made public.
Lysa Locke was a good woman who did her duty as Lady of Winterfell and as the mother of the future Starks, a hard woman raised in the hills among the mountain clans, where every winter, according to her accounts, old men left their homes for a final hunt.
As she danced with Bennard, she saw Viserys taking her mother to dance. Something clicked in her mind when she saw it.
If Aemma were still to pass after this current birth, perhaps her mother could marry Viserys. She was only a year older than him and still of an age to bear children.
It was still something that irritated her, that women were mostly just for their abilities to bear children, and not much else. Even if with the Targaryen, there had been outliers, although she saw their abilities to ride dragons to cause that effect.
Then there were still herself or Visenya as options as well, something they had discussed and even considered, though Arya disliked the idea. To protect the realm, she would do her duty. Yet she was still too young, only nine. Any marriage would have to wait years.
She also knew she would likely have to wed, and wed well, to a house loyal to her own. Or never marry at all, something she had considered, perhaps even becoming a Kingsguard. She knew full well that having more houses controlling dragons would be a disaster. Sure, the Targaryen family had good tides with Velaryons, yet that was mostly because of Aemon's efforts. If not, the Velaryons would have been in control of three dragons, without oversight from the crown.
Then the song changed, and Aemon walked up to her and Bennard. "Bennard, may I please have this dance with my sister?"
She frowned at him.
"Of course," Bennard replied with a bow.
"Thank you," Aemon said to Bennard.
Aemon then took her hand. "You look beautiful tonight, Arya."
Arya blushed at her brother's words. "Stupid," she muttered with a grin.
Aemon laughed. "I know, I'm stupid. To fall for a woman again."
Arya smiled at him sadly. "Don't worry. Laena is a keeper."
"I know. Sometimes it still feels a bit unreal what has happened over the past fifteen years. Yet here we are, I'm married, and to Laena Velaryon of all people."
"That you are, and a man admired by many more," she muttered with a chuckle.
"Stop it." Then Arya saw her sister dancing with Laenor and shook her head.
"Well, someone is already putting their plan in motion, it seems. We both know our sister is stubborn."
"Pfft. You are all stubborn in your own way. You, Mother, and Visenya have that stern Stark stubbornness. Laena has her mother's and grandmother's stubbornness, like them. And well, Rhaenyra and Aemma have that Targaryen fiery, a sudden anger when they can get it like a spark, causing a fire. Although Aemma is more tempered thanks to her upbringing in the Vale," Aemon replied with a laugh.
"Yes," she said, "says the man who walks into burning pyres, uses Valyrian magic, and rides the biggest dragon in the realm."
She muttered the words back at him.
"No, that doesn't require stubbornness," she added sarcastically.
"Well, let's all be stubborn then. Let's see who wins."
"I take that challenge," she replied.
"Good. I expected nothing else from you."
Chapter 47: Alicent Hightower
Alicent Hightower (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
Throneroom
She sat at the table with her father and the other council members. Her father was engrossed in conversation with her eldest cousin, Ormund Hightower, and her younger cousin David, who had come to the capital with her elder brothers for the tourney and the celebrations. It would not do for the Hightowers not to be represented.
She enjoyed seeing them, but found that her younger cousin was quite an ass, reminding her too much of Daemon in the way he acted. Still, they were kin, and kin were kin.
Seeing Aemon dance with Laena and marry her in front of the gods had hurt. She had fallen in love with him when he had returned for King Viserys's coronation. Aemon had seemed the gallant prince of the stories, even if her father told her he was godless, following the old gods as well as the new. Even House Hightower had once been of the First Men and had worshiped the old gods before the Andals brought the new gods, the true ones.
To her surprise, Aemon walked to their table after having danced with both his sister, Rhaenyra, and Laena. He smiled at her as he arrived, a smile that made her feel a little flustered.
Alicent sighed inwardly. She was nineteen and not yet wed, and she was in love with a man now married.
He greeted her father and her eldest cousin before being introduced to her elder brothers, then giving Gwayne a more friendly greeting.
Before turning to her.
"Alicent, I hope you are enjoying the festivities."
"I am, my prince. The festivities have been wonderful, and the attire you and Princess Laena are wearing is wonderful," she replied with a smile.
"Thank the seamstresses. They have been well compensated for their work. Although the design is something Visenya came up with, while the white direwolf was something my sister Arya thought of, even before Ghost became my trusted companion," Aemon noted, smiling proudly.
"Truly? I did not know Arya came up with the idea. I thought the design came from Ghost himself," she asked.
She had seen the direwolves more than once. They were massive, and she had more than once been surprised in fright when the giants stalked around the castle, especially Patch and Ghost, who were apparently the father and mother of all the direwolves.
"Indeed, I saw them in the godswood this morning," Ormund noted. "Never seen such wolves before."
"It would be quite likely, Lord Hightower," Aemon replied. It felt odd that Aemon addressed her cousin like that, Lord, but then again, lords and their heirs had that right. Her father had first been a ser, and later Lord Hand. "They are rare in the North, although north of the Wall, there are plenty. They hunt beasts we do not have in the South. Everything seems to grow large in the cold. The pelt of the mammoth my grandfather hunted still hangs in the great hall of Winterfell."
"That's quite something, my prince. I remember they called him the Wandering Wolf, did they not?" her cousin noted, looking at Aemon with intrigue.
"Indeed, they did. Forty years of age before he became Lord of Winterfell after my great-great-cousin's death. The man traveled far and wide before he settled."
"My prince, perhaps after the festivities, we could go for a hunt. I assume you have done your fair share," Ormund asked.
"I would enjoy that, my lord. Hunting is one of my favorite pastimes, although it has given me quite a scar. Still, the trophy was worth it."
Alicent looked a little worried as she remembered the tale Rhaenyra and Laena had told her about how Aemon had gotten the direwolves.
"Well, there must be some thrill, otherwise why do we hunt?" Ormund noted with a grin.
"Ah, a good point, my lord," Aemon replied.
"Although I wish to continue talking, I came to ask Lady Alicent to dance. It has been quite a while since we last did," Aemon added.
"Do let us keep you no longer, my prince," Ormund said. "I await your tales during our hunt."
Then Ormund looked to her father, who gave Aemon a straight face. She knew that face well; he was both irritated and pleased.
"Of course, my prince. I would love to," she said, rising and taking his hand.
After that, they walked to the dance floor and began dancing.
"You are wearing a wonderful dress. I don't think I have seen it before. The grey with orange flames does stand out," Aemon stated as he held her close, though still modestly.
She blushed at his words. "Thank you. They were my mother's. I have only recently grown into them."
"I am sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. Your letter was kind, and the ring you sent," she replied with a smile, though it still hurt to think of her mother passing away almost two years ago.
"I know the feeling of the loss of a parent," Aemon added. "The pain never truly leaves, yet it becomes livable, and we keep them alive when we remember them."
"That is true," she said, smiling at him.
Aemon then moved her in a circle, spinning her around and leaving her a bit breathless when he returned her to his arms.
"Tell me something, are there any books you might recommend that I would find interesting? I have been building quite the library at Seadragon Point. I know you always push Visenya and Rhaenyra to read more. Or if you have time, perhaps you could make a more southern cloak for me," Aemon asked.
Alicent's heart fluttered. He knew what she liked.
"I would be honored to make something for you."
Then she thought about the books she had read that might be of interest. In their youth, she and Aemon had spent quite a lot of time together in the library. In fact, she had first met him there and remembered the handsome boy reading a book about the Conquest.
"Well, Rhaenyra, Visenya, and I have been given instructions to read the life of Nymeria Nymeros Martell, the first Princess of Dorne," she replied, looking at him hopefully.
"Ah, quite an interesting figure. Arya has been a great admirer of hers. By whom is it written? The current version I had copied from Winterfell was written by a Dornishman," Aemon replied.
"Oh, I think the version I have been reading and studying was written by a maester of the Citadel."
Aemon smiled. "Good. I am curious about the differences. I have noticed books can be quite different depending on who writes them."
"How so? Should books not be written as the events happened?" she asked.
"That is something that cannot always be done. The reasons for that differ. Either the political environment, the benefactor, the place where a person is from, or tales are finally written down long after they happened," Aemon explained.
"I see. A shame, really, but I suppose that makes sense. People tell events differently from how they actually happened. Books, I suppose, can be similar," she replied.
"Good. You know the saying: "History is written by the victors." For example, the Conquest is written as a glorious victory for the realm when final peace reigned over the land. Yet if Aegon and his sisters had lost the war, they would be seen as invaders. Tell me something are the Northmen like you expected them to be?" Aemon questioned.
"No. Some things are true, but most of what I heard was not," she replied.
"I thought so. So I recommend reading different volumes of tales and seeing how they diverge. If you only ever gain your input from one source, then you depend on it and cannot make your own conclusions," Aemon stated.
Then, to her irritation, the dance ended.
"I shall, my prince. Thank you for the dance," she said with a smile.
Aemon took her hand and gave it a kiss. "Thank you, Alicent. I shall read the book you mentioned."
After that, he left, and she watched him walk away and return to the dais.
Aemon Targaryen (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
Throneroom
Aemon smiled as he sat down again, taking a drink of his wine and a grape from the bunch before him. The sweet juices of the fruit flowed in his mouth, a fine difference from the sour red he drank with it.
He looked to the dance floor as Laena danced with her cousin, and later with her father. She looked happy. Let's hope that stays that way.
He looked toward the tables. Everyone seemed happy. Good, no troubles so far, although Daemon looked quite drunk. Thank the gods the Royces weren't here; he didn't need that drama tonight.
After a moment, he looked toward Viserys. He had been disappointed when he saw him again. Viserys had never been as fit as he or Daemon, yet it seemed that after his brother became king, he had grown even less so. Yet Viserys was no Robert Baratheon, thank the gods, drowning himself in wine and other vices. Viserys simply seemed to lack the discipline to train or to keep things in balance. The reports of the many tourneys and feasts he held showed as much.
"Viserys," he said.
The man looked up at him. His face was puffed from drink and food. "Aemon."
"Would you be up for a sparring session? Perhaps the day after tomorrow, before the tourney. It has been a while since we sparred."
To be honest, it would be good for the man, and for him as well. He liked the idea of spending some time with his brother. Viserys was a good man who wished to please everyone, yet he could be stern when it came to standing up for his family or giving them an earful.
"I do not, not anymore. I find I never had the skill, like you and Daemon possess. You both carry that for the house."
Viserys replied. Aemon nodded to his words, though inwardly he frowned. Fine. Keep to what you enjoy, brother.
Viserys still looked at him. "Perhaps after the festivities, we could go flying. I rarely get into the saddle anymore."
"Good. The fresh air will do you some good. King's Landing smells worse than when I last visited." Viserys laughed but said nothing more.
He turned back to the hall and saw his mother dancing with his uncle. His uncle's attire, and that of all the Northmen who had come, was different from those of the south, save perhaps the Clawmen.
His thoughts were broken when a soft hand was laid upon his neck.
"Husband, come dance with me," Laena said as she kissed his cheek.
"Very well," he replied, rising, and they danced happily across the marble floor.
As he danced with Laena in his arms, he felt at peace. It was something he had not often felt since he had left winter many years ago.
"Husband, what are you thinking about? You haven't said much since we danced earlier. You seem lost in thought," Laena asked.
"Sorry, my love. I was just thinking that I'm at peace. I haven't felt that for a long time," he said with a sigh before kissing her.
"I know. It all still feels surreal, but I know I love you and wish to spend my life with you. Not many people in arranged marriages can say that," Laena said with a smile.
Then the song ended. "Wait here. I have a surprise for you."
Laena smiled at his words and followed him with her eyes as he walked toward the musicians, motioning for them to stop.
The entire room looked at him.
He cleared his throat. "My lords and ladies, Your Grace. I have prepared a song. Some of you might have heard it already if you are from the North and have visited my holdfast there. I hope you all enjoy it or find it moving."
He felt a bit nervous as his harp was brought from behind the musician he had asked to store it there for the occasion.
He began to sing "Rhaena of Harrenhal," as he called it now. He gave his mother a knowing look, and she smiled at him.
"High in the halls of the Lords who are gone."
"Rhaena would dance with her ghosts."
"The ones she had lost and the ones she had found."
"And the ones who had loved her the most."
"The ones who'd been gone for so very long."
"She couldn't remember their names."
"They spun her around on the melded old stones."
"Spun away all her sorrow and pain."
"And she never wanted them to leave, never wanted them to leave."
"Never wanted them to leave, never wanted them to leave."
"They danced through the day."
"And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall."
"From winter to summer then winter again."
"Til the walls did crumble and fall."
"And she never wanted them to leave, never wanted them to leave."
"Never wanted them to leave, never wanted them to leave."
"And she never wanted to them leave, never wanted them to leave."
"High in the halls of the Lords who are gone."
"Rhaena would dance with her ghosts."
"The ones she had lost and the ones she had found."
"And the ones."
"Who had loved her the most."
Then he stopped, ending the last part of the song. The hall fell silent, and then applause erupted. Some women were crying, like his mother, Alicent, Rhaenyra, Laena, Visenya, and, to his surprise, Rhaenys and Arya.
"A beautiful song, my brother, a true tribute to our great aunt. Although a sad tale, I suppose it brings her some peace that she inspired such a song," his brother said as he clapped, giving a wide smile. Well, at least he was happy.
He gave the signal for the musicians to begin again. When both his wives came up to him, Laena said with teary eyes, "Oh, Aemon, a beautiful song. It spoke of love and sadness, always a good recipe for a song."
"I thought so." He said with a smile, and Laena looked at him with intrigue. "Why did you never tell me you could sing?"
He grinned at her. "I wanted it to be a surprise."
"Well it worked, but do I expect now from now on you to sing for me now on?"
"What is your wish is my command." He said with a mocking bow.
Then, too, his anger, Daemon broke the moment and rose from his seat. "My Lords, My Ladi, Your Graceee." Daemon slur, drunkenly.
"My brother has taken a woman to bride. So I see, let's bed them." Daemon added, grinning at him. The dragon inside him roared then, and for the outside Balerion egoed his moon.
Laena took his arm and gripped it tightly. "Indeed, Your Grace. Bed them." Someone in the crowd muttered. Soon the chant of bed them echoed through the hall.
"Enough," He roared, the dragon inside coming out. "I tell you all now, and brother. None else but myself will touch my wife tonight."
"Aemon, it's okay," Laena whispered in his ear. He breathed in deeply, "No, Laena, isn't plus there are other ways to show we consummate our marriage." He said with a grin, and Laena blushed.
"There will be no bedding. Yet, My Lord and Ladies, Your Grace, I think it's time for me, my bride, to retire. I wish you all a fine evening still; drink and sing well. Let's all remember this happy day and week," he thundered, holding Laena tightly as wall from the hall.
Laena Velaryon (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
King's Landing - Aemon's Chambers
Laena's heart beat a little faster as she arrived at Aemon's chamber door. They had kissed a couple of times in the hall and on the stairways. Both were excited, and to be honest, when Aemon had demanded there would be no bedding ceremony, she felt an even greater desire for him.
Aemon opened the door and stepped inside the room. "Sers, I bid you both a good night," he noted to Ser Harrold and Ser Jeffery.
Lemon warning
After he closed the door, he pounced on her. His lips crashed against hers with a hunger she had not noticed before. Sure, Aemon had been hungry for her, but not like this.
"Oh, Laena, I wanted to truly have you that first time you came to the baths," he groaned into her neck.
As he led them to the bed, she chuckled at his words while he kissed her neck. She moaned as his hands roamed her body, squeezing her ass when he reached it.
As they reached the bed, they both fell upon it and laughed. Laena sighed happily as she looked into Aemon's eyes. Those wonderful grey eyes with purple flecks.
"I love you, and I wanted you that day as well. Even more after what you did with your mouth." She moaned as Aemon kissed her again, his hand moving to her breasts, squeezing them lightly.
"The dress is beautiful, but right now I would like to get it off you."
She giggled, and with a reluctant sigh, they both sat up on the bed. She turned her back to him. "Could you help with the laces of my dress?"
"Of course," Aemon noted as he kissed the back of her shoulder.
He undid the laces and stood up, letting the dress fall from her body, leaving only her undergarments and her corset. Aemon looked at her hungrily.
"Let's put it aside. Either you could have it altered or maintain it well for a daughter of our own," Aemon noted as he looked at her fallen dress, picking it up and placing it on a chair.
Her heart quickened at his words, and she smiled at him as he reached her. She took his face in her hands.
"You would want that? A daughter?" she asked.
"Of course. I would take any children you would give me." She kissed him once more as Aemon worked to loosen her corset. As it dropped to the floor, she quickly removed the rest of her garments.
Leaving herself fully naked for Aemon's eyes alone, and in them she saw Aemon looking at her with even more hunger, a dragon's hunger.
He kissed her again as his hands roamed her body, and then Aemon went down kiss by kiss until, to her delight, he reached her cunt. He paused, his wet-hot breath brushing against it.
"So wet for me already and shaven?" he asked as he knelt before her.
"I had it done yesterday. I thought you might enjoy it."
"I do, although the silver between your legs wasn't bad either." He grinned, and then his mouth found her waiting lips. She moaned and fell onto the bed as Aemon seemed possessed by her cunt and moved his tongue to play with her clit. As he circled her clit and sucked on it, she let out screams of pleasure.
She lost herself as her back arched into the bed. Aemon held her with one hand on her belly and the other on her breast, keeping her close. One of her legs went over Aemon's shoulder so he could gain greater access. She moved one hand through his golden-silver curls while the other kneaded one of her nipples.
She moaned his name as she became undone.
"Yes, Aemon!" she whimpered as her body shook with pleasure and her clit throbbed from the stimulation.
Aemon, the bastard, did not stop as he continued, his tongue moving inside her. She moaned loudly as he did so, feeling even more overwhelmed by the stimulation.
She climaxed then, and both her legs clamped around Aemon's head.
She panted deeply and was already covered with sweat as she released him, and he rose.
"You taste wonderful," Aemon grinned as he licked his lips.
She looked at him, half dazed.
"Please, Aemon, come here. Don't make me wait any longer. I need to be one with you," she muttered happily, though looking at him lustfully as she laid herself down fully upon the bed.
Aemon quickly discarded his clothes, and Laena looked at his well-sculpted body, noticing not an ounce of fat. Aemon's upper body was heavily muscled, especially his arms, which he used for sword training and his work in the smithy.
Aemon wore the scar upon his left arm from the bear attack, and on his right shoulder, a cut he said he got north of the Wall from a wildling attack.
Yet those were not the only scars.
He had three more, burned scars in the shapes of Valyrian glyphs: fire, stone, and blood. Aemon had obtained them after he forged the power of Seadragon Point. He had told her how it happened. They were first marked with his blood, and after the ritual, he was left with the three burned scars.
She had asked him if they hurt, and he told her they only did when he used Valyrian rituals.
Yet her thoughts were broken as Aemon climbed onto the bed beside her and kissed her, his hands grazing against her skin. Soon enough, he was settled between her legs, and he looked at her as she looked at him.
"Shall I?" he asked attentively.
Her heart beat a little fast in her chest, and she nodded. "Make me yours, Aemon," she said as she took his face and kissed him.
She moaned into his mouth as he pushed his cock over her wet folds. Aemon gave a soft groan into her neck as she felt his cock press against her entrance.
She gasped as he pushed forward, claiming her as his own. She no longer had her maidenhead, yet she still felt herself stretch as Aemon pushed deeper inside her.
He paused, letting her adjust to his size.
"How are you?" he asked as he kissed her cheek.
"Good. I feel you stretching me. You can move," she said, adjusting herself slightly to allow him better access.
Aemon groaned as she moved and slowly began thrusting. His movements were slow and tender, and it felt different from what she thought it would.
Yet she felt no pain, only a slight ache and stretch.
As Aemon moved, he never took his eyes off her, and in those eyes she saw love.
After a time, the pleasure she had felt before returned.
"Please, move quicker. It feels good," she muttered, to which Aemon laughed softly. "Oh, sweet Laena. You don't know how good you feel."
Yet he did as he was bid, and she felt her pleasure building. Their bodies at times felt like they were moving as one.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. She felt him hit something inside her, and she moaned loudly.
After a while, she noticed Aemon's movements beginning to grow more strained and uneven, his breath haggard. She had seen that before. When they had pleasured each other before.
She chuckled softly, kissed him, and whispered, "Come for me. Come inside me. Let me feel you when you come."
Aemon's grey eyes widened, yet it did the trick. As his thrust found that spot inside her once more, she cried out. "Aemon, by Meraxes, Aemon there, right there…"
She shuddered as she neared her climax, but then she felt his member twitch before he thrust into her hard. He moaned her name into her neck as he spilled his seed into her womb.
"Laena… fuck," he groaned. As Aemon thrusted a couple more times, a fucked her through his climax. She felt a little disappointed; she couldn't finish. Yet when he was spent, he collapsed on top of her, and she ran her hand through his hair as his head rested in the crook of her neck. It was worth it, it was a form of intimacy they hadn't experienced before. They lay like that for several minutes, with him still buried inside her.
As Aemon began to stir, he lay down beside her. His cock slipped out of her, and she felt empty and a little sore, yet it was a good ache.
"I love you, Aemon," she muttered as she kissed his lips.
Aemon groaned softly as her hand found his cock again, stroking it gently.
"I love you," he muttered as he pulled her close so she lay on top of him.
She lay there for several minutes before Aemon rose and looked into her eyes.
"I need you again." She smiled, wanting to lie back down, but he stopped her. He gently lifted her and, to her surprise, lowered her onto his hardened cock.
She gasped and moaned as it slid deeper than before.
Slowly, she ground her hips against his while locking her lips with his. Eventually, she began to set the pace, and Aemon helped her with his hands on her ass as she rode him.
She rode him until she found her release and lost control of her body.
It was then Aemon flipped her over onto her belly, taking her like she had seen hounds and horses do once, and it did not take him long to spill into her again.
Lemon end
They both lay there for a moment, and she could not be happier as she smiled at the ceiling of the room, decorated with dragons, likely displaying some form of the history of House Targaryen.
Aemon then rolled over and took her into his arms. Both of them smelled of each other, and in that moment, she did not care. She was happy.
She snuggled into him.
"I love you, Laena," Aemon muttered into her neck.
Laena's heart fluttered as she said the same thing back. She let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes, dreaming of a future she had long desired that was now drawing closer and closer.
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