𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐄 | aemond targaryen

𝐢𝐱. worship that which you revere

❝no other word makes my mouth

as tender as your name❞

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The wedding came far more swiftly than either of them had expected. Over the course of the month they had been given to prepare themselves, it seemed they craved each other more and more. There would be no more secrecy, no more hastened trysts in darkened hallways or sneaking into one another's rooms in the hour of the bat.

Aemond felt the days weigh on him torturously, somedays musing on hunting down his mother to bring the date closer. Visenya had not allowed it, smirking over at him as he gazed over at her in a frightening mix of frustration and adoration. He would have her soon, all of her.

As the day of the wedding dawned, Visenya had not found rest. She had been pacing up and down her room, a letter clutched between her fingers as she debated with herself. 

The letter was addressed to her mother, a woman she had not heard head nor tail of in seven years. Not even to congratulate her on her wedding, if she even knew. 

While lost her on her thoughts, she had not heard her door open and shut gently. Aemond stepped into her chambers as he did so often, but now it was the eve of their wedding and he did not want to spend it tossing and turning in his cold sheets.

But when his eyes landed on his future wife, his brow furrowed in concern. Coming up behind her he wrapped his arms around her middle, resting his chin on her shoulder. Visenya tensed at first at the touch but relaxed as he whispered gently in her ear.

"It is only me, my love." Aemond said, his voice soft in a way it only was for her. "What are you doing awake?"

She wordlessly held up the envelope and felt him tense once he saw the name on the paper, swirled neatly by Visenya's careful hand.

"Do you think she would come?" She asked slowly and he growled lightly into her neck. 

"If she did, I would set Vhagar on her." Aemond snarled before pulling himself together for his wife to be. "She doesn't deserve to be at our wedding, my love, she stopped deserving to be your mother a very long time ago."

Visenya nodded carefully but still did not let go of the paper between her fingers. Aemond's larger hands enveloped hers, fingering the betrothal ring that had once belonged to Visenya that Aemond had found in the treasury to give to his own betrothed like Aegon the conquerer once did.

"Don't let her ruin what we've waited so long for." Aemond mumbled into her ear and she relaxed into him fully, letting the paper fall from her hand and into the fire.

"Impossible." Visenya said, turning her face to his as he captured her soft lips in a sweet kiss that slowly turned more hungry as he tasted her on his tongue. She was the first to break from the kiss.

"Are you truly that impatient, my prince." Visenya asked, her hand grazing his face softly as she pulled the eyepatch from his face. He no longer cared when she did that, she could never make him feel like a monster. "You need only wait 'till the morrow."

"By the morrow my mother and her maids shall have you in their clutches." Aemond groaned as she kissed his jaw and down his neck.

"And you will wait the end of the aisle... in a cloak of black and red..." Visenya said, pressing her lips to every open area of skin she could find. "Waiting for me."

"Waiting for you." Aemond repeated, pleasure coursing through his beating veins. "In a white dress."

"A white dress... that symbolises... purity." Visenya said between marking her betrothed as her own. "I'm still pure... and chaste like a... septa."