A/N: Welcome to a fun lil Rhaenys x Jon(Aemon) one-shot, hope you enjoy!
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Rhaenys looked out at the city.
King's Landing.
Home to her family... but not all of it. Not for many years.
Her Winter Mother, Lyanna had left for the North nearly four years ago. That alone had shattered her heart, but not nearly as much as the presence of Aemon, her baby brother, going up with her. Aegon and Daenerys, even Viserys, all made for good company, but twasn't one of those three she'd been betrothed to for years.
She let out a sigh.
Rhaenys saw not the reason in letting Winter-Mother and Aemon stay with their Northern kin. He wasn't a Stark, and she'd married into House Targaryen just as her birth-mother had, so what need was spending time so far away from their true family? The Starks had nearly a half-dozen children, whilst Rhaenys had but two brothers, one of whom was already married off to Margaery.
Her nose wrinkled at the thought of the Tyrell woman. She didn't dislike her, but the girl had made eyes at each of her brothers 'til a marriage had been guaranteed to one, and not long thereafter was when her Aemon moved North.
She couldn't help but think it was that set of betrothals that'd encouraged that move... but why? Father and Mother had never said, and Aegon, if he knew, had kept secret said information. Rhaenys would've been annoyed, thinking about that so early in the day, but this one was different; her brother, a boy of six and ten, was due back this morn. A ship from White Harbour would see him and her Winter Mother, Lyanna, to King's Landing.
Mayhaps such was the reason Rhaenys looked out, across the city she'd soon leave; Summerhaul beckoned, as did her baby brother and soon-to-be husband.
Gods.
Rhaenys let out a breath as her mind went back, again, to her Aemon.
How would he look now? Would he be scarred from the Wildling raids he'd insisted on seeing to as a Prince of the realm?
Had he taken a lover in that cold land?
That thought stung no small amount, and she tried not to dwell on it, as she heard her birth mother at the door.
"Rhaenys," Elia called. "They've woken. Won't you join us?"
A smile found its way onto her face, and any hint of sourness or nervousness was quashed. Her baby brother, her future husband... finally, she'd have him by her side again.
And never would he be allowed to leave her; Aegon would command it, if need be. And Father, no matter the desire of her Winter Mother or her Aemon, would see them both stay here, in King's Landing, where they belonged.
Family had no greater place than with one another, did Grandmother not teach all to stay close and offer affection? Was the House of the Dragon not small enough?
Rhaenys heard Aemon speaking with Aegon and Father well before she entered alongside Mother and Daenerys. His voice was deep, deeper than when she'd last seen him, and though it was a shock to her ears, it proved a most pleasant one.
It wasn't long 'til she stood in the doorway, watching as the three men sat around a table, drinking ale of all things. They turned to look at her, and the only thing her mind could focus on was how handsome her brother had become.
Then in the far corner emerged her Winter Mother. Lyanna. She was just as beautiful as when last she'd seen her.
The three rose and Aemon, her baby brother, approached.
He stopped before her and offered a smile. "Sister," he spoke. "You've grown much."
Rhaenys laughed and embraced him, tears openly falling from her eyes despite the overwhelming sense of happiness.
"You've changed, brother," she said as they pulled away.
His eyes held her own, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room.
"As have you, Rhaenys."
She smiled, and her gaze drifted to the others in the room. Mother had a knowing smirk upon her face, Lyanna and Father seemed... pleased. As if they'd thought either she or Aemon wouldn't be content with each other. If so, it was more foolish a thought than she could give name.
Daenerys made a nose of discontent and gave a pull. "Nephew! Have you forgotten me? I'm sure you're eager to spend the majority of your time with your betrothed, but surely you've not lost the love you had for your most favourite of aunts?"
Rhaenys rolled her eyes and gave Aemon a kiss on the cheek, then she stepped aside and watched the two reunite.
It wasn't long until everyone, even Viserys and a curious Margaery, found their way to her parents' chambers, where the gathering was taking place. From Ser Arthur — a man who'd taken special interest in Aemon's early training — to her father's master of ships, Lord Monford Velaryon, and Lord Mace Tyrell, the Hand of the King. All of a certain closeness were included, but it was Rhaenys that remained at his side throughout each and every happening from when first he'd arrived.
She was as a horse to a fly, and if he minded, he never once spoke of it.
And when they took their seats for the great feast they'd share, the way his hand came to settle upon the softness of her thigh only solidified her certainty that he'd been as eager for her as she'd been for him; she'd need thank the Gods later that her brother hadn't forgotten her, nor lost any affection or desire for her.
Now, all that remained of her wishes that hadn't come to pass was a desire to be alone with him, sans the company of all others. This came not from a desire to be bedded by him or to do all that Arianne spoke of, with him, but out of a genuine want to reconnect with her baby brother. To hear the tales he'd no doubt tell of his time amongst his cousins and the famed — or infamous — Northmen.
And as she looked across the hall, taking note of the fact that no few eyes were upon them, she couldn't help but think about her future as his wife; it reddened her cheeks in little more than a few seconds' time, for her mind thought first and foremost, of babes.
Oh, how many they'd populate Summerhall with.
"We're to marry on the morrow. I can scarcely believe it." Aemon and she had gone to the former's chambers post-meal. Father had, at the end of the meal, announced the reason for the tourney's delay; the marriage she and Aemon would have in the Great Sept of Baelor.
Rhaenys, seated atop the edge of his bed, took up his hand and sought out all the contact one could get. "I hope 'tis not a bothersome thought?"
"Gods, no. You're... none are like you." Aemon, her dark-haired, gruff-looking little brother seemed a boy that'd only just discovered women with such words and the innocent look he sent her.
That spiked the desire that'd bloomed from wine and time alone with him. Especially when it came with it the thought that her Aemon was pure or near enough. Had he drank and whored as many do, as many men still did after marriage, his reaction to her closeness and words would have been far different.
Rhaenys squeezed his hand and pulled him down into a kiss, one that lasted until she'd pushed him down onto the bed, his hands finding her waist, and hers cupping his face. When next she pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.
"Rhaenys," his words were heavy and filled with lust. "We... we shouldn't."
"Why not?" She asked, giving him a peck on the lips that lingered longer than any would consider proper. Of course, she did pull away, leaving but a small string of saliva connecting them 'til it fell to her chest. Her eyes and his alike followed it as it went down the valley of her breasts; she rose hers first and caught him. "We're to be wed on the morrow, aren't we?"
Aemon nodded and swallowed, his dark, purplish eyes locked on hers. She could see his resolve crumbling, and the way his grip tightened on her hips told her more than any words could have. He looked near ready to speak.
But that moment of lustful tension was broken when Ghost hopped up and joined them atop the bed. The great Direwolf proving to be as cuddly as her little Balerion was.
Rhaenys pulled away from Aemon, but not his bed. "I suppose that's as much of a sign as any," she japed, earning a laugh from him as the both of them set their hands to scratching at Ghost's head and behind his ears.
Aemon's gaze met hers even as his fingers worked along the great Direwolf's fur. "Rhaenys..." his tone had shifted. There was seriousness to it. "I missed you. You and everyone else, but especially you."
"And I, you, little brother. I wish you'd never have left."
Jon snorted. "Wish you could've come with me." He switched from Ghost, back to her, wrapping her up in those strong, pale and... occasionally scarred arms; she'd have to task about each and every one. "Who needs the politics of court or the pomp and pageantry of the South? In the North, it's good, hearty mills, a hot bath, and a warm hearth, every night."
"I hear others make do without hearths." Rhaenys gave him a knowing look.
"Aye," Aemon said. "They have a different definition of the word 'warm'."
The pair shared a juvenile laugh, and Rhaenys gave up supporting herself, allowing Aemon to take the burden of her weight. They were quiet for some time after, and as the silence went on, she found her eyes growing heavier and heavier. Ghost's form bundling right up at her front didn't help the matter any either.
Was this what her parents had? Was this the reason for the many secret looks they'd shared?
If it was, there was no difficulty in understanding the attraction to it.
Rhaenys could hardly imagine the day when this would become normalcy.
"Deep in thought?"
She hummed and shook her head. "Just... imagining a life as yours."
Aemon chuckled and gave a peck to her cheek, his arms tightening 'round her as if he was afraid he'd wake up, and this had all been naught but a dream; mayhaps that was her fear. They'd taken to each other so easily, and there were few words or thoughts of their pasts or his departure. Only their future.
"You won't have a need to imagine come tomorrow."
No, she wouldn't.
That much was for certain.
"Aemon?" She asked, shifting slightly so that her head rested comfortably on his shoulder.
"Yes?"
"What's the North like?" There was an interest, true and genuine. It'd long captivated her Winter Mother's heart, and Aemon, he seemed just as taken with it; she'd seen Dorne, she'd been to Summerhall and Storm's End, even Highgarden had she visited, but the farthest north she'd ever gone, was but Castle Darry. It'd been a touch chilly for her.
Aemon took a few seconds to consider the question. "Cold. And beautiful. The Wall's a sight to see, for certain." He paused then. "Everything's just different, 'tis hard to say. Lords here certainly seem more bookish and learned, then you have men like the Umbers or Karstarks; they're fighters, through and through."
"Sounds as if you've a tale or two worth telling."
"Aye," Aegon gave a little chuckle, the hair on his face tickling her neck in a sinfully pleasurable manner. "Many a tale. But not more than we'll make at Summerhall, I'd wager."
"And how would you know?"
"We have time on our side, don't we?"
"That we do."
And with that, Rhaenys allowed her eyes to close, and soon, a dream-filled sleep came to her, one full of love and happiness, and a future with Aemon; a good future.