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Late afternoons at the Targaryen estate were one of the things you counted yourself lucky to have.
The mansion itself, faded red and white in color, and built in the early 1900s, was a marvel that caused envy to many onlookers—it stood atop of a hill, with a massive yard at front and back, overlooking King’s Landing. It was only fitting, you’d always thought, since the Targaryen’s business empire funded most of what the city is today.
Through the large wood and glass doors that led to the kitchen’s balcony, you were perched on the balustrade, watching as the golden light of the sun reflected against the ripples of the small artificial lake in the backyard. The air was crisp and fresh, the leaves on the trees were all brown and yellow, fall had officially arrived.
“You know what we need? Ghosts!” Aegon stepped through the doors, his eager voice catching your attention. He held a mug of hot chocolate and had the hood of his hoodie over his head. It wasn’t that cold out, but Aegon had always preferred summer. “And bats, we should get bats too.”
“I know a store that sells this stuff.” Helaena soon followed, holding a mug of her own with one hand whilst the other tugged her cardigan closer to herself. “But we could always craft our own as well,” she shrugged, breathing in and allowing the golden sunlight to warm her skin.
They sat at the round table of the balcony, and you turned around, leaning back against the balustrade to tune into their conversation, brows furrowed in curiosity.
Aemond was the last to come outside, and with a warmth to your cheeks, you couldn’t help but stare. He had his long silver hair up in a loose bun, snuggled with a light brown sweater, and holding two mugs in his hands.
He didn’t say anything as he walked up to lean beside you. Keeping you on his good eye’s side, Aemond’s shoulder was warm as it touched yours. He gave one of the mugs to you and took a sip of his own, closing his eye when the steam of the hot chocolate hit his nose.
You took the mug from him, biting the inside of your cheek when your fingers brushed his.
“You made me one,” both your hands closed around the warm ceramic, and you fought a smile. “Even if I said I didn’t want it,” you mumbled then, more to yourself than to him but Aemond heard anyway.
He hummed. “Even after all these years, you still refuse to take us seriously when we say ‘make yourself at home’.” Aemond glanced at you, he bumped his shoulder against yours. “I knew you wanted one.”
You pursed your lips, bashful eyes shifting to the floor lest he saw the evident blush on your cheeks. Yet you leaned closer to him, whispering a 'thank you’.
“But it could be fun.” Helaena’s voice cut through your moment. You hadn’t even noticed that she and Aegon had yet again fallen into a halfhearted discussion.
“Why would I go through the work of making something myself if there’s a store that already sells it?” Aegon countered, shaking his head as if his point was the most obvious one.
“It’s not about the work, it’s about the fun process of it,” Helaena rolled her eyes, slapping Aegon’s hand away when he tried to reach for her half-filled mug after he finished his.
“Plus it’s not even that hard,” she huffed, “you’re just lazy.”
“I’m not lazy,” Aegon pouted.
“You’re whining about making ghosts out of white cloth and styrofoam,” Helaena raised a teasing brow, “And you say you aren’t lazy?”
You shared a confused look with Aemond, who simply shrugged, despite having a smirk on his lips. “Guys,” you called the two siblings, “What are you talking about?”
Helaena turned to you then, leaning back on her chair and taking her mug to her lips. “We are organizing a Halloween party,” she spoke, before taking a sip.
“Next weekend, since mother will be out of town with Criston, we’ll have the house all to ourselves,” Aegon added in, with a pleased edge to his tone.
“And you will be attending,” Helaena gestured a finger towards you, “No questions asked.”
You blinked at her words, subconsciously leaning yourself closer to Aemond. “Oh, you know I’m not big on parties, Hel.” A nervous chuckle fell past your lips. Ever since you became friends with Helaena back in middle school, she’d tried dragging you to all sorts of parties and events her family hosted. You’d think by now you should be used to high society events, even the ones organized by the siblings themselves, but really, you were not.
“Besides, I uh- I don’t even have a costume to wear.”
“That’s the least of your worries,” Helaena waved you off with an easy smile, “We’ll get you something, we can go shopping together this week.” She then turned back to Aegon and continued discussing the decorations, as if the matter had been all resolved.
Your mouth remained agape, fingers tapping the warm edge of your mug.
“It won’t be anything big.” You heard Aemond say from beside you, he leaned closer to your ear, feeling your anxiety coming off you in waves.
It wouldn’t be farfetched to say you’ve spent more time at the Targaryen estate than in your own home these past years. Helaena loved you like a sister, Aegon adored making you laugh, their mother Alicent treated you almost as if you were a child of hers as well, and even Daeron who was pretty much never home always greeted you with a warm smile; and Aemond… Aemond was special and complicated and heartwarming all in one.
They were family to you, but that doesn’t mean anyone besides them would believe that. Others who held the same social status as them would often throw curious and judgemental glares your way when Helaena dragged you to events. You didn’t belong in the upper-class crowd.
“It’s just for close friends,” Aemond continued, waiting for you to look up at him. “And some buddies Aegon is calling over.”
Birds sang in the distance, announcing another day’s end as the evening’s cold breeze settled in. Aemond looked at you all soft and sweet, features shaped by the dusk glow, you sometimes liked to believe he kept that softness just for you.
You held his gaze for a moment longer before raising one hand, worrying your nail between your teeth.
In the same beat, Aemond’s hand came to close around yours, his fingertips tracing the bumps and ridges of your palm—all gentle and staggering as if he couldn’t touch you enough. His touch would always give you goosebumps.
“It’s your call.” He pulled your hand down, but didn’t let go. “But I'll… miss you, if you don’t show up.”
There was a hint of nervousness in his voice and in how he closed his eye when he spoke. It called you in, as if he truly meant it. And it’s not like you’ve ever been able to tell him no.
─── ⋄✧⋄ ───
Helaena and Aegon had gone all-in for the decorations. String lights with small plastic pumpkins attached to them illuminated the stone pathway that led to the mansion’s entrance; along the same path, there were bats and ghosts attached to the trees, and real candles on the ground. The deep warmth of the orange lights was strangely comforting.
From outside, the music was muffled by the walls, and even so, it sounded considerably loud. The thin curtains did little to hide the colorful lights illuminating the dim insides of the spacious living room and kitchen. The silhouettes of people dancing, talking, and making out could be seen as well.
And you stood a couple of steps away from the small stairs that led to the main double wooden doors. The moon remained high in the sky, barely covered by a few dark clouds.
Your hands clutched a pointy, black witch’s hat. It was the best you were able to find at such short notice. A witch’s hat, a black vintage dress, a long and dark cloak draped over your shoulders, and black boots. All paired with some ominously made makeup around your eyes and burgundy lipstick.
Securing the hat back over your head, you quit stalling. With a deep breath in, you walked up to the door and knocked.
Helaena was the one to open it for you—dressed up as a faerie, with fake wings and everything—she had a big smile on her face and a flush to her cheeks, undoubtedly from the expensive wine being served in solo cups that you could already catch a glimpse of. Alicent wouldn’t be happy about it.
“You came!” She exclaimed.
“Trick or treats?” You greeted her with a grin of your own, opening your arms to show her the fantasy that you and she had picked out.
Helaena didn’t hesitate to take hold of your hand and tugged you inside, “Come on in, we just raided the wine cellar,” she spoke the last words closer and quieter as if it was any kind of secret.
You chuckled under your breath, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
The music was now loud and clear against your ears, as were the few colorful lights that danced around. Much like the outside, the estate’s interior was beautifully decorated with all things Halloween; ghosts hanging from the ceiling, glowing pumpkins scattered around, candles warming up the rooms, and even a human-sized skeleton standing beside the doors that led to the balcony.
Helaena waved off your worry, “Mom won’t even notice that a bottle or two are missing.” She then took a moment to look you up and down, narrowing her eyes with a teasing smirk, “You look great, by the way. See? I knew it would suit you.”
“I suppose it’s not so bad,” you acquiesced, smoothing down the fabric of your dress and cloak.
There were eyes on you—the mansion was filled with people, all around your age yet you didn’t know any of them. They all sneaked curious glances, wondering why you were there and how you could be amidst the most influential family in the city. A simple girl like you.
Your palms grew clammy at the unwanted attention, and you tried to push aside the twisting of your stomach when Helaena gave you a sympathetic smile you knew too well.
“Okay, I have to close up the wine cellar, or else then we’ll certainly have a problem,” she grimaced, squeezing your hand once, “Have fun, will you?”
“When do I not?” You teased, to which she simply raised a brow before turning away, leaving you all too alone in the middle of the crowd.
You felt exposed, truly. Suddenly out of place as if you were invading. But at the same time, small, so very small. Each of the people around you—drinking and dancing and laughing—held a weight to their presence, to the expensive costumes they wore, and to the poorly concealed scoffs falling from their lips as they walked by you.
You tried killing some time by eating one of the cupcakes on the kitchen counter, some were shaped like pumpkins, others like skulls. You chose the pumpkin one, fidgeting with the edge of your cloak as the sweet taste of the chocolate filling invaded your tastebuds.
It was hard finding anyone with the poor lighting of the room, and even harder with everyone wearing some kind of costume for the night. Your eyes skimmed over the small crowds of guests, looking for Aegon or Aemond, anyone to make you feel less like an outsider—you’d spotted Helaena again, but she was enthralled in conversation with a group of girls you didn’t know and you didn’t feel like intruding.
Eventually, you gave up and made a beeline to the balcony, squeezing your way past bodies and clutching your pointy hat to your head so you wouldn’t have it knocked off. Already craving some fresh air.
As soon as you crossed the threshold and felt the crisp air of the night hit your cheeks, someone managed to step on your cloak.
A yelp escaped you when you felt yourself being tugged backward, your back hitting someone’s shoulder. You turned around fast, apology ready on your lips even if you weren’t the one at fault.
“Hey,” the tall man you’d bumped into didn’t give you a chance to talk, he was dressed up as Frankenstein and had a half-filled solo cup in hand. “Watch where you’re going,” he spat, with something akin to repulse dripping from his tone.
“I’m sorr-”
“Aren’t you a little far from home, girl?” He pushed into your personal space, forcing you to take a step backward.
Only for your back to brush against another someone. You closed your eyes, biting at the inside of your cheek as you cursed out every possible entity for giving you such tremendously awful luck. Perhaps coming to this party was a mistake.
But then, warm and familiar hands slowly closed around your shoulders, thumbs pressing into your flesh in something comforting.
“She is exactly where she is supposed to be.” Aemond’s calm and even voice felt like the breath of fresh air you were so desperately seeking. You kept your eyes closed still, relishing in the feeling of his hands holding you, pulling you closer to him.
Aemond hummed, and his tone dropped to something more dangerous; “You, however,” he addressed the man who had stepped on your cloak, but you felt shivers going up and down your back all the same, “Better be walking out those doors within the next five seconds or else I’ll put you out myself.” Aemond merely leaned his head towards the main doors of his house, and it didn’t take long for you to feel the other man’s nauseating presence vanish.
Only then did Aemond let go of you, stepping around you so he could look you in the eyes.
And your breath stumbled the same way your heartbeat did when you finally looked up at him. Thanks to a thin layer of makeup, his face was paler than what you were used to. There was a steady trail of fake blood coming from the edges of his smirk. His hair fell completely loose and framed his angular face between the long silver strands. The prosthetic sapphire eye you so rarely saw on his scarred eye certainly completed and gave its own flare to the look. He dressed in a loose frilly shirt, with a long black cape over his shoulders that had red satin on the inside of its fabric.
Aemond was a vampire. A very charming and alluring one at that.
“You uh-” The word fell like a breath past your lips, completely muffled by the music. You cleared your throat, glancing away from his piercing gaze. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Do what?” Aemond shrugged, his lips pressed together in a playful pout. “Am I not allowed to take out the trash in my own house?”
Fighting a smile and losing, you shook your head at him. For once you were thankful for the dim light of the room, as it hid the warmth that spread to your cheeks.
“Let me grab you a drink, witch.” Aemond reached a hand to the small of your back, pulling you towards the kitchen before you could protest.
He kept close to you at all times, There was an almost predatory sharpness to his eye anytime someone so much as thought about looking at you the wrong way—even if with him by your side, no one dared to. It blossomed a heat in your chest that was difficult to deny, the valves of your heart working overtime to keep up with its frantic beating.
Aemond only let go of you so he could fill up two red cups with what you could only assume was a bottle of wine that cost more than your monthly salary. His cape swayed behind him as he walked, as did his hair, soft silver strands contrasting against the black fabric of his cape’s raised collar.
“I’m glad you came,” Aemond spoke just loud enough for you to catch it over the music. He handed you one of the cups.
You granted him a small smile, observing as the candles from the kitchen counter cast a pleasant warm glow to one side of his face, and the distant colorful lights of the adjacent living room cast a myriad of colors on the other. His prosthetic eye shone under the light. You had only seen him this bare a few handful of times. Helaena told you it had taken years for him to ever allow anyone to see him without the eyepatch he wears most of the time.
“I’m still deciding if it was a wise decision or not,” you confessed, trying to lighten the mood with an awkward chuckle.
Before Aemond could answer, a heavy hand patted your shoulder and nearly made you spill your drink on yourself.
“I knew you wouldn’t miss it,” Aegon’s enthusiastic voice appeared beside you, he laughed, greeting you with a quick but sloppy kiss to your cheek, “My parties are always irresistible.”
“Hey Aegon,” your smile grew wider as you turned to him. The older Targaryen was dressed as a king, with a huge golden crown on his head, a red regal outfit, and a mantle of white fur over his back.
“I love what you’ve done with the place,” you praised loudly as a new song began, “The decorations are awesome.”
He refilled his cup, stealing a glance at his own house. “Eh, turns out making some of these yourself does pay off,” he shrugged, gesturing to the many ghosts and bats hanging from the ceiling and the carved pumpkins lying around.
It stole another chuckle from you. Aegon held his cup with one hand and gave you an exaggerated curtsy with the other, before going back to disappear between the crowd of costumes.
You and Aemond remained quiet for several beats then. You leaned back against one of the counters, taking small sips of your drink as you quietly observed everyone around you. The wine burned a little down your throat, but you found yourself enjoying the taste of it.
A soft breeze came in through the open doors of the balcony, it carried the smoke of the candles and the smell of incense and wine.
Aemond had already finished his drink, his thumb traced the rim of his cup. “You do belong here,” his voice was so soft it almost got lost with the music.
You averted your eyes to him only to see him already watching you. He let go of his cup, placing it beside one of the carved pumpkins—yours, now you noticed, the one you had carved with Aemond at the start of the month.
You pursed your lips when Aemond walked closer to you, holding onto your breath.
“More than any of them ever have,” he whispered then, but he stood close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body on yours. You didn’t have to try hard to hear him.
There was electricity in the air as one of Aemond’s shoes stepped in between your boots. His eye cast over every speck of your cosmetic makeup, resting longer on your lips, as if wondering how many times he’d have to kiss you until your dark lipstick would fade.
With your heart in your mouth, any and all words you could think of were gone. Because Aemond was close, too close. He’d only been this close to you once before, on a late summer afternoon, when you both sat by the pool and his chapped lips brushed yours; he’d tasted of strawberries then, the ones you’d been eating by the water together; it was a fleeting moment, gone so fast that none of you dared to speak of it after.
But now, his soul intertwined with yours again, and you felt as one of his hands sneaked to your waist. His fingers traced your curves with purpose, as if he’d missed how the shape of your body felt in his hands. Maybe he did.
Aemond’s nose was short of brushing yours when you sucked in a sharp breath. Your eyes caught the other guests of the party; stealing glances at you and him, whispering with near scandalous looks.
Your hand clutched tight at Aemond’s loose shirt. “Aemond stop.”
He pulled back in the same breath, but didn’t go far, your hold on him didn’t allow him to.
“They’re-” You gulped heavily, feeling inebriated in his closeness, “They’re all watching.” It was nothing but a breath past your lips, because your hand was on his chest, and even through the thin shirt, you could feel the heavy beating of his heart trying to escape its confines.
Aemond’s lips parted with a smirk, he had his tongue between his teeth. He shook his head, hair falling over his scarred eye, whilst the other one glinted with something akin to deep adoration.
With the boldness of a man who had surrendered himself to a heart that wept for another, Aemond leaned in. His lips pecked the corner of yours, it was a quick kiss, but it lingered with the way his other hand had come up to cup the corner of your jaw and press you into him.
You could melt. Turning your head toward him and chasing his lips when he pulled away.
“Let them see,” Aemond hushed, his thumb came over your bottom lip, brushing away a stain of the fake blood that came with his kiss. “Let them see how much I-” He grew breathless before he could finish, his lips hovering. But the look in his eye begged you for something. Longed for something. “Let them see.”
The music suddenly became muffled to your ears, and the eyes of anyone else disappeared in a blurred background. There was only him, and a gravity pulling at your heartstrings with a desperation you couldn’t keep to yourself any longer.
Biting back the hesitation, you raised a hand to Aemond’s face, your fingers buried between strands of his hair as you pushed it behind his ear. He closed his eye with your touch, falling forward until his nose touched yours.
You met in the middle, and this kiss held more hunger to it. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, something harmless, yet you couldn’t help but soothe with your tongue afterward.
Aemond pressed his body to yours, if he could be closer, he would be. Both his hands had sneaked beneath your cloak, needing to feel the warmth of your body the most he was able to.
Your nails mapped the edge of his jaw, digging softly into the skin there. It gave beneath your fingertips as though his skin had been molded for your touch, and Aemond’s mouth parted on an exhalation of your name.
You smiled, dodging his lips when he leaned forward yet again, going for his scarred cheek to lay a kiss there. “You were right, I do belong here.”