Blood of Old Valryia (Aemond Targaryen FF)

Chapter Twenty Two

The silky sheets were soft as they pressed against Aesira's face.

In their frenzy, she'd been vaguely aware of the pillows being tossed aside or thrown across the chamber, she couldn't remember. Not as she lay on her belly, dimly aware of every aching muscle in her body, especially the soft stinging pain around her nipples and the sweet spot between her legs.

Aemond had been everything she had dreamed of, and more. She hadn't realised he was awake too until she felt cool fingers trailing up and down the column of her spine.

Aesira sat upright in the bed, stretching her arms out until the aches in her body were little more than an afterthought. The sun's morning glow had begun to creep into her room through the thinly veiled balcony doors and a slight chill swept around the room, stoking the low burning fire in the Heart.

She peered over her shoulder at the man laying beside her. Aemond was awake, and by the lack of sleep in his eyes, she knew he'd been awake for a while. Pushing aside the fur-lined blanket, Aesira climbed over and straddled him. Lacking the energy and care to speak the common tongue, she grinned down at Aemond, "I take it, your night was eventful."

Too blissfully satiated, in all aspects, Aemond answered in his own mother tongue, "Once a man has tasted a woman's paradise, there is little that can dampen his spirits."

"I never took you for a poet, cousin. And yet they leave your tongue as easy as your commands." She watched as Aemond, with pursed lips, clasped his hands behind his head.

"You didn't seem to have any issues with my commands last night."

"And yet, you were the one who begged." Glimpses of their night together flashed through her mind, the sound of his rasping moans, and his pleading tone, the look of pure, undiluted ecstasy on his face whenever he crested beneath her, behind her, and atop her.

Aemond removed a hand from his head, and traced circles all along her belly, "I could spend the rest of my life worshipping your body without complaint."

She shivered, his voice giving life to thunder, "How selfish of me to wish I could give you a thousand years to do just that."

His chuckle ignited that fire inside her again, so soon and she found herself craving him again. But when the drapes fluttered and heavy footsteps were heard shuffling on the other side of her doors, Aemond sighed, "My grandsire will notice my absence at his fast-breaking table."

"You dine with your grandsire? How adorable." Aesira teased, dragging her body from his so slowly that his arousal bobbed. She giggled as he scrambled to cover himself, "It's too late to hide from me now."

Aemond rolled his eye as he watched her rise from the bed. The heat in his gaze told her more than his words ever would. "Marry me."

"What?" She cut a glance at him, the question catching her unaware. She'd given him her maidenhead, and though it left a sweet taste on her tongue, marrying him would cause all sorts of complications.

"Be wedded to me, Aesira. All of me, with all of you." He said sternly, sliding across the bed to sit before her. Aemond tugged her forward until Aesira stood between his spread legs, his hands clasping hers.

But she was already shaking her head, ignoring the pain that flashed across his face, "Aemond, no. It would further complicate our lives. I've said it before, I will be used as a pawn against Rhaenyra, not as long as I am of sound mind."

Aemond blinked slowly, licked his lips, and then said hastily, "Then we'll leave. Mount our dragons and rebuild your childhood home, or to Braavos, or Pentos, or anywhere else in this large world."