Devil in Disguise

It seems very wrong to Aemond that his bastard niece is beautiful. Too beautiful. She's not pure on the inside, after all. She can smile as angelically as she likes, but he knows what she really is. His niece Elaena is the devil in disguise.

Which is why he keeps an eye on her. It's not because he likes her. She needs watching. She's dangerous. He should know. He's only got one eye because of her.

Besides, no one should shine the way she does. No one should have lips that red or eyes that big. It's unnatural. It's like she was sculpted by the Gods just to tempt him. Dangerous.

Elaena's just turned fourteen -marriageable age. The King announced it at supper. She is to wed the new Lord of Winterfell, a strategic move by Rhaenyra and Daemon. The North has a vast army, and where the Starks lead the rest of the North will follow. Well, they can't have that now, can they?

Something must be done, and Aemond would do anything for his family.

So he follows the princess after supper. Her hair is braided all the way down her back. It sways from side to side as she walks. Perhaps she senses she's being followed, because several times she stops and looks back over her shoulder. Aemond hides in the shadows. He's had a lot of practice stalking her. She never knows he's there. Well, she will tonight, but not until he wants her to.

She goes inside her chambers and firmly shuts the door. Aemond hears the lock click into place and smiles at her naivety. Little does she know he's been watching her sleep for weeks. Not in a creepy way. He isn't a monster. She just looks so peaceful when she's asleep, so innocent... which he knows she's not. He's not a monster, she is.

He lingers in the hallway, giving her time to complete her usual evening routine. There's no hurry. The later the hour grows, the less likely it is someone will be awake to hear her scream.

Once he's certain she's in bed, he takes the spare key he's had made and lets himself in. The room is dark and quiet. He locks the door behind him.

He prowls closer to the bed and hears her soft breathing. Her lovely face is illuminated only by moonlight. He wants to reach out and touch her -but not yet.

He quietly undresses, folding each article of clothing and leaving it in a neat pile. He hates mess. Aegon is messy. Aegon really doesn't deserve to be King, but there it is.

Aemond hovers by the edge of the bed and watches her sleep. He stares at her lips and unconsciously licks his own. She's a princess, his niece, a bastard. None of that really matters. She's his. Always has been.

He tilts his head. She looks thin and delicate, like she'll be easy to pin down while he has his way with her. Convenient.

Aemond slowly lifts the covers and slips underneath, careful not to wake her. He wants to draw the moment out; wants to pretend she'll be happy to see him. That she'll smile at him like she does at Jace.

If he was the Stark boy, would she roll on her back and open her legs for him? Would she run her fingers through his hair and whisper his name as he fucked her?

A shiver runs down his spine at the thought. Gods!

He shifts closer, cock hardening. She smells nice, like she's been bathing in roses. Maybe she has been. He can feel her warmth now. He's so close to touching her. Will her skin be as soft as he's always imagined?

It is. Aemond's heart skips a beat. He tenderly caresses her cheek, fingers skating down along her throat, to her breasts. Her eyes flutter open, dazed, confused, then terrified.

He slaps his hand over her mouth before she can scream. She does anyway, but it's entirely muffled by his palm.

"Shh..." he uses his weight to restrain her as she writhes beneath him. "Don't scream, don't scream. We wouldn't want someone to come in and find you like this would we? With a man in your bed?"