Chapter 1: The Prince's Claim
The Red Keep smelled of smoke and old stone tonight, the kind of night where secrets crawled out of the walls like rats. You had no right to be walking these corridors alone after the sun had set, but the note pressed into your palm by a silent servant had been clear: *Prince Aemond's chambers. Now. Do not make me come for you.*
Your heart hammered against your ribs as you pushed open the heavy oak door. The room was dimly lit by a single hearth fire and a few candles. Aemond Targaryen stood with his back to you, one hand braced on the stone windowsill, the other resting on the hilt of his dagger. His long silver hair caught the firelight like molten steel. Even without turning, he knew you were there.
"Close the door," he said, voice low and velvet-rough. "Lock it."
You obeyed, the click of the latch sounding far too loud in the silence.
Only then did he turn. One violet eye burned into you, the other hidden beneath the black leather patch. The scar that sliced down his face made him look every bit the monster the realm whispered about. But gods, he was beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful – sharp, deadly, impossible to look away from.
"You've been very busy, little spy," he murmured, stepping closer. The air between you thickened. "Whispering to my sister's messengers. Carrying messages for the Blacks like a good little traitor."
Your back hit the door before you even realized you'd moved. He caged you there with his body, tall and lean and radiating heat. One gloved hand came up, fingers tracing your jaw with mocking gentleness.
"I should have you dragged to the dungeons," he continued, thumb pressing against your lower lip. "Or perhaps strung up in the courtyard for the ravens to pick at. But…" His gaze dropped to your mouth, dark and hungry. "I find myself with a better idea."
"Aemond—" you started, but he cut you off with a kiss that was more claiming than anything else. It wasn't soft. It was teeth and tongue and pure possession. He tasted like dark wine and smoke, and you hated how quickly your body melted against him.
He pulled back just enough to speak against your lips. "Say my name again. Properly."
"Aemond," you breathed, and he rewarded you by shoving your skirts up with one rough hand, fingers sliding between your thighs without warning.
"Already soaked," he growled, two long fingers pushing inside you in one smooth thrust. Your head fell back against the door with a gasp. "For the man you're supposed to betray? How very *disloyal* of you."
He curled his fingers, hitting that spot that made your knees buckle. His thumb found your clit and circled slow, torturous circles while he watched your face like it was the most fascinating thing in the Seven Kingdoms. You tried to stay quiet, but a broken moan slipped out anyway.
"Louder," he ordered, pumping his fingers faster. "I want to hear how a traitor sounds when she comes apart for me."
You came hard, clenching around his fingers, vision blurring as pleasure crashed through you. He didn't stop. He kept stroking you through it, drawing it out until you were shaking and oversensitive, whimpering his name like a prayer.
Only then did he withdraw his hand, bringing his glistening fingers to his mouth. He licked them clean while staring straight into your eyes, a cruel, satisfied smirk on his lips.
"On the bed," he said simply.
You barely made it three steps before he had you bent over the edge of his massive four-poster, chest pressed to the silk sheets. He kicked your legs apart, and you heard the rustle of leather as he freed himself. The thick, hot length of him dragged along your folds once, twice, teasing.
"Beg," he whispered against your ear, one hand fisting in your hair.
"Please… Aemond, please—"
He slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch burned so good you screamed into the sheets. He was big, almost too much, but the pain melted into white-hot pleasure as he started moving.
"Fuck," he snarled, hips snapping against yours. "So tight. So fucking perfect. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to take my cock while you plot against my family."
Every thrust was deep, punishing, perfect. The slap of skin on skin mixed with your moans and his low, filthy growls. He reached around, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in tight circles that had you clenching around him.
"Come again," he commanded. "I want to feel you milk me."
You shattered for the second time, walls fluttering around him as stars exploded behind your eyes. Aemond groaned, pace turning erratic, but he didn't stop. He fucked you through your orgasm, then flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing.
He climbed over you, silver hair falling like a curtain around both of you. For a moment he just looked – eye dark with lust, scar stark in the firelight. Then he was inside you again, slower this time, deeper, grinding against that spot that made you sob with pleasure.
"Look at me," he ordered, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. "I want to watch you fall apart knowing exactly who owns you now."
You came a third time with his name on your lips, tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping down your cheeks. Only then did Aemond let go. He buried himself deep, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you with a broken groan that sounded almost pained. Hot pulses of his release filled you, dripping out when he finally pulled back.
He collapsed beside you, pulling you against his chest almost tenderly. His fingers traced lazy circles on your hip while his breathing slowed.
"You think this ends here?" he whispered against your hair, voice rough and dark with promise. "This was only the beginning, little spy. Tomorrow night you'll come back. And the night after that. Until the only name you remember is mine. Until the only side you serve… is the one between my legs."
He kissed your forehead, almost gentle, but the smirk in his voice was pure dragon.
"Sleep now. You'll need your strength. Because next time…" His hand slid down to cup you possessively between your thighs, feeling his own release still leaking out of you. "I'm going to take you on Vhagar's back while the whole city watches the sky burn."
Your heart raced. You knew you should run. You knew you should hate him.
But as his arms tightened around you and the fire crackled low, all you could think was one dangerous truth:
You were already addicted.