Requested by: no one
Rating: yellow
Plot: You and Aemond find a moment of intimacy before fulfilling your formal duties.

  You make a slow and light curtsy as Queen Alicent passes by and raise your gaze to her third son.. You glance at him from under your long lashes and see him stiffen his shoulders as he gives you a quick look. He continues to follow his mother to the Small Council room but turns back for a moment. His gaze crosses the corridor until it reaches you. With a nod of your head, you quickly indicate the stairs leading to the library of the Red Keep, and he closes the doors behind him.
  <<What are you thinking, Aemond?>> Ser Criston Cole asks, approaching the young prince still near the door. The boy looks at him but gives no response, so the Kingsguard places a hand on his shoulder, turning his back to the council table. <<You can have any woman you want in Westeros and even beyond the narrow sea. But not a Strong>> he says, tightening his grip, and Aemond tightens his hand on the hilt at his belt. <<Is something wrong?>> Alicent asks, still standing at the head of the table, taking her husband's place. The prince shrugs off Cole's hand and takes his place next to his mother, standing to her left. Ser Criston sits at the far end of the table, and the meeting begins.
  They discuss the tourney for Prince Aegon's birthday, the battle in the Stepstones, agreements between various Westerosi families, and other political and social matters, but Aemond pays no attention. His mind is elsewhere, though no one seems to notice, fortunately.

  As you walk through the corridors, you feel the other servants' eyes on you as you accompany Aegon's young children along the nave of the throne room, telling them stories about their family members. You hold them in your arms with some difficulty, telling them how Aegon the Conqueror almost brought Dorne under his reign. Their nanny follows you everywhere without a word. You stop in front of the Iron Throne and sigh, observing the symbol of the crown's power.
  <<The Iron Throne was forged by the fire of Balerion, melding the swords of his enemies>> you whisper, a shiver running down your arms. You've never been afraid of dragons. On the contrary, they've always fascinated you. You hear shuffling steps and the sound of a cane approaching, and you turn.
Your gaze meets that of your brother Larys, who approaches with a waddle. You leave the children with their nanny and kiss their foreheads before letting them go with the girl.
  <<Rumors spread quickly, sister>> he says, stopping next to you, leaning on his cane as he looks at the throne. You prefer not to look at him. His mere presence disgusts you. You know full well that he is the mastermind behind the "accident" that led to your father and brother Harwin's deaths.
  <<It's only a matter of time before Queen Alicent finds out>> he continues, prodding you as he has done for several weeks now, ever since a servant told him she saw you and Prince Aemond in intimate acts.
He is about to say more, but you quickly turn your back on him, walking down the throne room towards the stairs and the entrance door.
  <<It's only a matter of time, little sister. The wrong people could find out>> he says loudly, so much so that your steps seem to make no sound on the stone floor.
You place another volume on the shelf and start looking for where to leave the next book. The library is often deserted, and today is no different. But whispers come from behind a tall shelf, and you try not to make noise as you approach its edge. On the other side, two maesters are talking, illuminated by a few candles and surrounded by scrolls and dusty tomes.
  <<It's only a matter of time>> one of them says, a note of worry in his voice. <<The queen will never allow it>> comments the other, sighing as pages are turned. <<She's a Strong, after all. And Prince Aemond is just having fun>> he continues, almost amused this time. <<It's known that he and Prince Aegon frequent Flea Bottom. If we counted the bastards fathered by the two princes, it would take more than a week to find even half of them>>.
  At these words, you almost drop the pile of books in your arms. You back away and place the stack on the nearest table. You've heard enough and perhaps should not have let curiosity get the better of you.You leave the library quickly, feeling a heavy weight on your chest, and bump into a solid chest.
You look up, meeting Aemond's serious gaze, but before he can touch you, you sidestep him and keep walking.

  <<Y/n, stop. What's wrong?>> the prince asks, grabbing your arm, his large hand tightening around your wrist. You try to break free, but the grip of the rider of Vhagar is strong. You look into his single eye and grit your teeth. With your free hand, you try to slap him, but Aemond catches your arm, holding it firmly. You struggle again, trying to hit him, but to avoid it, he pushes you against the wall.The prince is much taller than you, and his strength far exceeds yours. Your faces are so close that your breaths mix.
  <<How many times?>> you ask, but of course, you receive no answer from him. <<How many times have you been to Flea Bottom?>> you continue, this time raising your head, pretending for once that he isn't Prince Aemond Targaryen, but just anyone, someone of your own rank.He frowns, looking confused for a moment, but quickly his face becomes serious and expressionless again. <<And if I had?>> he asks, causing you to struggle even more, trying to free yourself from his grip. But you are trapped between his body and the wall. <<And if I had?>> you ask through gritted teeth with sarcasm, hurt and annoyed, feeling your heart break bit by bit. With force and roughness, he pushes against you and kisses you.

  For the first time, he is not sweet and gentle but rough and cold. You start hitting him on the chest, trying to push him away, but his hand leaves your wrist to rest at the base of your neck, squeezing. <<Don't you ever doubt my love for you again>> he says, trying to convince you or force you to look him in the eyes. <<Don't ever put me on the same level as my brother, because I would never look at another woman the way I look at you; because I would never touch another woman the way I touch you>> he says harshly, his grip around your neck tightening more and more. But he is not hurting you, nor is he scaring you.
  <<But you don't deny it. You don't deny frequenting whores>> you retort, now strangely calmer than before. You hate this thing about the two princes and men in general.
They profess eternal love but then pay prostitutes to "relax." You hate it, yet you can't help but think about what he has learned to do in Flea Bottom.

He pulls you to him, kissing you violently, but you don't mind. For the first time, you know the Aemond Targaryen everyone talks about. You know his possessive side, and you don't mind at all. The corridor is deserted. It's just the two of you and the balcony a short distance away, behind him, overlooking the crowded courtyard. He begins to untie the front laces of your bodice and lowers the upper part of your lilac dress. You undo his trousers while he lifts your skirt, running his hands over your bare thighs. He lifts you up, and your bare back hits the hard, cold rock. His thin lips immediately find your neck and your breast at his mercy. It doesn't take long for your heavy breaths to fill the corridor, echoing off the walls covered with tapestries of the Faith of the Seven and the Targaryen dragon, risking getting you discovered.