Aegon & Aemond Targaryen

Sick.

Every time Aemond saw you, he felt sick. Sick. There was something in the look of his one eye that made your skin crawl, but you avoided thinking about it. Not even now, as your marriage to Aegon felt like a stable, if twisted, reality.

The night had begun with a slight change of plans. Aegon had indicated after spending the entire afternoon outside the Red Keep that there would be no regular dinner, where he usually drank wine and complained about the council's tedium. You weren't ready to receive anyone, so one of your maids helped you put on your bedclothes. Soon, you found yourself curled up under the covers, a book in hand, waiting for Aegon to arrive, like every night, to take his side of the bed. It was their little marriage habit, perhaps the only healthy one they shared: sleeping together every night.

Aemond and Aegon had been distant figures in your life before Alicent, your mother, decided you were the perfect wife for her eldest son. Aemond had been betrothed to Helaena, something that was supposed to happen in another year. There was minimal interaction between you and Aemond; he barely spoke to you. Aegon, on the other hand, filled silence with words loaded with sarcasm and malice. The two brothers were opposites, a constant source of fights.

So it was no surprise when news of their most recent fight reached your ears. Aemond had given in to darker impulses while Aegon, in his foolish ineptitude, had tried to confront him. Or so they said.

Sick, wasn't he?

And now, tonight, the two of them burst into your room barely an hour after what would have been your dinner time. Aegon entered first, carefree smile and wine glass in hand, which he casually set down on the table. Behind him, Aemond strode forward with firm steps. Something wasn’t right.

“Oh, good night, darling,” Aegon greeted, approaching you with a sly smile. He leaned in to kiss you, but this kiss was different: his lips were firm, rough, as if wanting to claim something you had never fully given him.

Before you could respond, Aegon spoke in a relaxed, almost jovial tone that belied the seriousness of what he was about to say: “I’ll be quick and clear, okay? Aemond and I have come to an agreement about you, my sweet girl. Isn’t that right?”

He turned to his brother, who for the first time seemed to pay you real attention. His eye, cold and calculating, shifted to you, and he nodded slowly.

“It's a political thing, to keep the peace,” Aemond murmured, his tone so controlled it seemed rehearsed.

Aegon left a soft kiss on your hundred before muttering slightly on your ear. "He wants to a taste a of you, honey. Why not let my brother's cock take your sweet and soft cunt at least once?" Another soft kiss on your hundred that seems mocking. "That's what a good older brother does, isn't it?"