TW: violence, smut

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127 AC, a few days before the return of Rhaenyra Targaryen to court.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

 ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿‿̩͙

Nyla entered the dimly lit room. Aemond was waiting for her, half-naked, with his neck stretched backward, resting on the armchair. His chest rose and fell slowly, strands of his fair hair covering his pale skin. He traced circles on the leather armchair with his fingertips, seemingly lost in thought.

He had grown taller, stronger. He was becoming intimidating. Nyla could feel it, a subtle fear creeping under her skin, making its way to her sore throat and escaping through her dry lips like an anxious breath.

"Nyla..." It was almost a murmur, a soft whisper from his hardened lips.

"Aemond." Nyla hid her hands behind her back. It had been a few months since she developed the bad habit of scraping the skin of her nail cuticles. Aemond hated it, and she hated to upset him.

"Come here." Even his tone had changed, devoid of emotion as he grew older. His voice carried a cold, high vibration. The boy she had served for so long was gone, consumed by the unquenchable man before her.

She stepped closer, and he reached out and took her wrist, bringing it to his mouth. For a moment, she thought he was going to bite her, but he stopped just before touching her with his lips. Instead, she heard him deeply inhale, smelling her.

"What is this smell?" He asked coldly.

"It's my normal smell."

"No, it's not." He didn't hide his displeasure.

Nyla sighed, already knowing where this was going. "Is it unpleasant?"

"It is," he replied quickly. "You know I want you to smell the same as I do. I can't stand being close to someone who smells of so many... people."

"I understand. I'll try my best to fix the habit of meeting other people"

Aemond snorted at her irony. He still held her wrist with a slight force, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to slightly hurt her. It was a deliberate, subtle, controlled form of violence, a true reflection of his essence. And Nyla didn't even dislike it. She had never been afraid of pain; she preferred it to loneliness, for what it mattered.

Aemond raised his arm and positioned Nyla's hand on his hair. "I wanted to see you today, but I was told you were out. Seeing friends again?" His words sounded more like a threat than a question, and Nyla knew that whatever reply she gave, his anger would not subside.

"I did," she stroked his hair lightly with her fingers, tucking one strand behind his right ear. "Does that bother you?" She deliberately tried to provoke him: it was a fun game, the only one she was allowed to play.

Their relationship had unfolded in this strange, cruel way: a constant tension between arousal and pain, mutual attraction, and mutual resentment; resentment for what couldn't be given, for what couldn't be asked, nor revealed.
Still, there was affection. Perhaps the truest form of affection they could share. They understood each other, to the necessary extent at least.

Not completely naked, but half naked.

Aemond clicked his tongue. "It does bother me. You know it does." He lifted his head slightly to look her directly in the eyes, trying to grasp something in them.

"He's taking advantage of you."

She nodded. "Maybe."

Nyla knew Evin could never take advantage of her. On the contrary, she had the upper hand in the relationship.
After all, Evin was a rather simple creature, surely not inclined to deception, and definitely not capable of manipulation.

"And still, you let him." Aemond pressed his lips together, frustration and jealousy evident on his face.

In the past two years Nyla and Aemond had talked about many things, including Evin. She didn't reveal everything about her relationship with him, but hinted that it wasn't purely platonic. And it wasn't. She often met Evin; sometimes they only kissed, sometimes they only drank, or talked, or had sex. But it wasn't love, only temporary comfort. The pleasure would satisfy her for a while: Evin was very experienced, very attentive and somehow kind. But such pleasure could never fill her up. It was a hollow act, based on habit more than passion.

"He's my only friend," she stated, consciously trying to exasperate him.

"What about me?"

"Well, with you... I'm on friendly terms."

He got up. "So we're not friends?"

"Do you want to be my friend?" Nyla asked, deliberately provoking him.

"I want..." Aemond stepped forward. "I want to be closer to you."

Nyla slightly pulled back. "I think we're already closer than we're supposed to be."

He took one more step towards her, his chin almost touching the tip of her head. "Still, not close enough," he whispered next to her ear, lowering his head.

Nyla looked up, their gazes locked.

"Is closeness all you want?"

"No," he breathed slowly. "I want exclusivity."

Nyla chuckled. "I'm afraid your idea of exclusivity may be more extreme than mine."

He lowered his head, their lips and bodies almost touching. "And does that scare you?"

"Not necessarily. But it seems suffocating," Nyla swallowed. "I don't want to end up living in a cage."

"I would make it a pleasant one." He was so close that Nyla could feel his warm breath on her chapped lips.

"I have no need for luxuries."

"What do you need then?"

Nyla met his eager gaze. She was in complete control. "Connection. I want to be seen."

Aemond cupped her face in his hands. Oh, even his hands were warm. All of him seemed to be made of fire.

"Well, I do see you."

Nyla's pupils dilated.

Until then, they had never even kissed, never had sex. They spent hours looking at each other, exploring and contemplating each other's depths, as if examining an enticing painting. They knew such connection, such lust, could only exist as long as it wasn't physical, for touching would reveal the emptiness behind their pretence. Intense gazes, hushed whispers, and restrained longing touches.

She knew Aemond had become obsessed with her. Obsessively possessive. Obsessively aggressive. Obsessively obsessive. To the point that it suffocated her, but in a warm, comforting tight way; as if he was slowly engulfing and eating her, but also filling her up. She had such a deep void within her, an excruciating need for affection, and only his obsession seemed capable of filling it.
And she was ready to accept it all. To devour his obsessiveness and to be devoured by it.

At least as long as it remained unspoken, unfelt.
As long as she could retract at any moment without being permanently scarred. How ironic it was. As a child, she yearned for stability above all else. But now, stability felt like the most suffocating of cages. Loneliness had changed her more than she expected. What was the point of yearning for stability when she had no one to share it with? Lonely people could only run around, seeking temporary elation.

She found herself drawn to the fickleness, to the vagueness and dubiety of their relationship. She revelled in the fact that Aemond hated such precariousness as much as she enjoyed it. It gave her a sense of power, knowing that he wanted more and she could stop it at any moment without reproach, because after all, nothing had truly happened.

But perhaps she had already grown tired of that game, perhaps now she truly wanted connectedness, she truly wanted to feel loved, or to be devoured, completely.

𓇢𓆸

— ☽  —

Aemond knew, at that moment, that he had won the little game they were playing, that he could do what he wanted now. And so, he did what he had craved for three long years.

He pressed his warm lips on hers. His heart started racing, pumping blood into his already popping veins. He tasted her deeply, bit her lips and savored her blood; licked the inside of her mouth like an hungry dog. He couldn't stop his body from moving on its own. Was it anger? Resentment? He didn't want to touch her with anger, he wanted to be gentle. That's what he had thought for the past three years whenever he fantasised about that moment. But right from the moment he had her in his hands, he could tell it was impossible for such a relationship to be based on gentleness.

He hastily took off her clothes. She was passively responding, not really doing anything, but not putting up any form of resistance, as if in a trance. Aemond led her to his large bed and pushed her down.

He had craved her skin for so many nights, he had longed to kiss the moles he imagined on it, to trace and lick them. And now, her bare white chest was exposed before him. But oh, how skinny she was – prominent collarbones, and very prominent ribs. Her small breasts emerged from the cavities of her torso. It wasn't pretty; she looked sick.

Nyla was so vulnerable, underneath her clothes.
Are all women like this? He wondered.

He felt ashamed for a few moments because, despite her sickly appearance, he felt attracted to her, even more perhaps: it gave him a sense of power over her.

Nyla wasn't even looking at him in the eyes; her gaze was blank, as if she wasn't really present. Perhaps she didn't want this. After all, she was in no position to refuse, and surely in no condition to do so. He could force himself on her – he probably already was in some kind of way. Aemond felt guilt devouring him, but his guilt would always turn into anger, and his anger into violence. So, he knew right then and there that he would hurt her that night. Even the word "rape" had now gained some sweetness to it. To possess and to be possessed: entirely, forcibly, painfully, unforgettably. To leave a red mark both physically and mentally; a mark that could never be removed.

He inserted himself in her, with no foreplay, no kind of preparation to ease the pain. The pleasure spread from his crotch to his core. A rough sound escaped his lips. He heard her gasping, her lips slightly opening, and her eyes getting wet. But still, Aemond pushed with all his strength into her. He wanted to take her first blood, to stain himself with it and stain her with his semen. Fill her up, make her his own. But he was already suspecting she wasn't a virgin. And she wasn't indeed. No blood came out. He had not broken the sigil of her womanhood.

Was it Evin that took her virginity? How did she look on her first time? Was she flustered? Timid? He could picture the redness on her cheeks, her black eyes trembling in pleasure, he could hear her soft moans and whimpers.
He wanted that. He longed to hold an innocent, unripe Nyla in his arms. But that image couldn't have been further from the reality in front of him.

He could feel the blood in his veins trembling: anger and powerlessness filled him to the brim. If he could not leave a mark that way, he had to do so in a different way.

Aemond bit her neck hard. He wanted to see her blood, to taste it and gulp it down to his stomach. Nyla moaned in pain, but she didn't try to push him away, nor say anything. Aemond kept moving relentlessly above her: pushing and pulling, biting and licking, pressing and scratching.
His nails dug into her skin, grabbing the thin layer of flesh on her bones, twisting it and savoring it.
He didn't even feel like himself. He was losing any sense of identity or humanity, serving his most primal instincts. And it felt good – better than everything he had ever experienced. And sooner than he wanted, he reached the peak of his pleasure. The connections in his brain melted and trembled in ecstasy. He took Nyla into his arms, squeezing her tightly, rather than hugging her, and relieved himself inside of her.

But once he got rid of what was pressing to get out, he was instead filled with guilt, discomfort and embarrassment. He looked at Nyla, at her bruised and beaten body: red and violet spots covered her skin. Her chest and breasts were filled with hickeys and bites. There was no way she could have felt pleasure in that act.
To his surprise she wasn't crying; instead, she was looking at him – black, fathomless eyes, staring directly into his own. There wasn't resentment or disappointment in them; it was something more similar to acceptance – a 'So that's what he is truly like' kind of feeling.

"Nyla..." he murmured, still trying to catch his breath.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

She wasn't saying anything.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Did you want to hurt me?"

Aemond couldn't answer that question. Not because he felt horrible admitting it, but because he truly didn't know whether he had chosen to hurt her or if it had been the result of an unconscious, uncontrollable desire. But maybe it made no difference – either way, deep down he did want to hurt her.

Silence followed between them. Nyla approached him and caressed his hair.

"It's okay," she whispered with a smile. "I don't mind if you want to hurt me. I want to hurt you too."

There was something both comforting and eerie in her words. As if everything that happened was exactly how she wanted it to be.

Her fingers slowly trailed from his hair to his face, gently caressing the scar near his eye. Then she laid forward and kissed it. He felt his hands tremble because of the pleasure.
She descended even more, touching his lips with her own, and then slowly inserted her tongue inside his mouth and kissed him gently, seductively, skillfully. As if she wanted to highlight the childishness of the rough, hasty, puerile kiss of Aemond. Once again, she was stating her superiority in experience, and by that the fact that he could never hope to possess her completely, at least not sexually.

Aemond understood right then that he had been tricked.

She didn't want to be pleased by him to begin with. The violence he had imposed on her, had served her more than it had served him.
He felt like he was the violated one.
And for some reason, it excited him even more.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Author's note:
Hi guys! It's been a while, I hope you're all doing well :))
Thank you so much for reading this, I hope you enjoyed the change of dynamics between Nyla and Aemond.

I wasn't sure to put the "rape" mention in the TW, but it's not truly rape, even though it's not entirely consensual either.
I must inform you that from now on it's going to get darker and darker, so be ready. I personally don't enjoy stories with lot of smut, but I feel like sex is an important part of relationships, so I will add some scenes if it's meaningful for their development.

In the next chapter the blacks will come back to the red keep, so be ready for some drama!!

Q/: Do you think Nyla is manipulating Aemond? Or is he the one in power?

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