#aegon ii targaryen x oc

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Eighteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen

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Author's Note: All my love and many thanks to @vampire-exgirlfriend for being my cheerleader, for taking my face in her hands and telling me that I word good, and that the story I'm telling is one that's valid. We all need a cheerleader like her.

EXPLICIT CONTENT

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - She'll Still Be Mine

Aegon distracts himself from his woes with some physical healing, weird talks with both his dads, and a night out with his best friend.

Emotions were a tempest inside Aegon Targaryen as riotous as the churning waters of Blackwater Bay. He slammed the heavy bedroom door behind him, the fury of it shaking the candles in their holders on the small table inside the door. Sunfyre was a growling, heated presence inside the cage of his ribs, pulsing in time with each beat of his heart. How he craved for fang and claw so all would feel his fury.

Too hot. His skin felt too hot, too tight, too much.

Aegon tore at the buckles of his doublet, peeling off the rich, green brocade and tossing it aside. It did little to assuage his feelings. Sick curled in his gut; an impotence he could do nothing about. He yanked at the ties at the throat of his linen shirt and his eyes landed upon the bottles on the table, where they’d been residing for the past few weeks.

‘Mother wishes you to dry out’, his siblings had said the night after him and Aemond had been dragged back to the keep, the betrothal announcement and his brother’s words swirling around his head. No more wine, no ale, no beer. Only ciders, or the watered wine they’d break their fasts with.

What good did that do him now, when nothing was at the ready to distract him anymore? Besides, it would be a shame for all these nameday gifts to go to waste.

Aegon cocked his head as he approached, swiping up the first bottle. He ran his thumb along the waxed cork, the familiar Arbor seal pressed on top. Thunder rumbled outside as Aegon worked his dagger along the seal with practiced ease, bits of wax falling to the floor like petals as he leaned against the window pane. The cool air that accompanied the end of the harvest season felt good on his heated skin, the spray of rain just outside a balm even if it was not quite what he needed.

What kind of man was he who could not protect who he loved the most? Over a moon had passed since his nameday, since Abby’s horrible scream ripped through the night. All Larys Strong had found in his investigation was that the bastard had worked in the kitchens for the past year. No family, a “quiet fellow”, with a few dalliances with the serving maids.

Nothing.

What cold comfort it was to his hunītsos, who could not sleep alone and had taken to his sister’s bed or pulled Wylla into her own. Few nights she’d even crept into his bed, mouth wet against his throat as he distracted her from her nightmares and fear, to replace everything with the thought of him and only him. How he could lose himself in her, the scent of the heady, dark rose and currant soap that clung to her skin, to forget about his lacking when she mewled his name, rutting against his cock separated only by her small clothes, his teeth worrying at the bite he’d left on her shoulder back in the tent, refusing to let it fade. How easy it was to be there, with her, than some stinking brothel with bought comfort.

Aegon gasped for air as the red dribbled over his mouth and down his chin, staining his shirt. Without thinking, he’d taken several pulls from the bottle. It was perfectly dry as it snaked down his throat, a familiar feeling of relief, and the taste of plum and cherry far more enticing than the ciders he’d been restricted to. He watched from behind the silver hair that fell into his eyes as lightning illuminated King’s Landing before a crack of thunder boomed, loud enough to startle him even though he’d been prepared for it.

Dragging the back of his sleeve over his mouth, he leaned against the ledge and shut his eyes, letting the storm mist across his face - the wind blowing north and thus, his room had avoided getting soaked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Theraxis' great, gray bulk come slinking out from behind the wardrobe, watching him with large yellow eyes as he promptly flopped over onto his side and turned, looking at him upside down.

“The lords tell me should I need anything, I have only to call upon them,” he told the cat, putting to voice what he’d held inside him these weeks. “So ready they are to give me my sister’s birthright, I do not even have to ask them for it.” He shook his head, another pull to ease the rumbling ache. “What kind of man do they take me for?” Theraxis had the courtesy to blink at him, pawing at the air and he snorted softly.

“They take you for potential.” Aegon startled at the unexpected voice. Theraxis let out a pleased meow and scampered up, prancing on deceptively light paws towards his mistress. She was lovely in the firelight, the glow of it catching along the edges of her hair, her long braid slung over one shoulder. Gone were the light silks and fluttering linen of the warm months. She was clad in a dressing gown of cream, embroidered with vines and flowers, the sleeves slashed from her elbows, the lavender lining reminding him of the flowers she had in her room the other day. “Oh, hello my darling,” she cooed, dropping to her knees to greet her cat - the animal the size of a hunting hound, seemingly larger as he tried to crawl into her lap while she laughed. The gown she wore was a deep v at her neck, and he could see the ties and lace of her nightdress beneath.

Her delicate fingers scratched around Theraxis’ ears as he pressed his cheek against hers and finally, her eyes met his. “We haven’t talked about it. Is that why you were so upset just now?”

Aegon took another pull from the bottle and went to the table to grab one of the goblets resting there. “Your brother has no more news,” he said, not hiding the truth from her, but guilt spurred him to take another drink. Abby’s lack of response indicated she had either already been told or was not surprised. Or a dozen other things involving how she didn’t indulge in her far more unpleasant emotions.

She pressed several kisses to the top of the cat’s head before he padded to the door and she followed to let him out, shutting and locking it behind her. He said nothing, giving her time as she rested her head against the wood to gather herself and splashed wine into a goblet like a good betrothed. It was easier to make sure he didn’t drink all of it without letting her share, and surely some wine would loosen her anxieties, if not her tongue.

There were times he wondered if she would ever trust him with all the things she left unsaid - if she would ever trust anyone with them.

Aegon approached, boots thumping softly on the rich rug. She turned at the sound of his approach, watching him as he took a sip from the goblet before holding it up to her lips for her to have a taste, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “He has no news. Cole and the whole fucking Kingsguard and the City Watch captain have found nothing.” Abby’s hand wrapped around the goblet to take another sip, and she looked so fragile, half in shadow with her back against the door, that he wanted to scream, to throw the bottle and demand the heads of the watch who were meant to be guarding the camp.

He took another swig from the bottle instead, drifting further into the room so she could not see his anger. Futile, he knew, but he’d not have her fear him, not when he was like this. Not when he feared himself.

“You wondered what kind of man the lords took you for,” she finally said and he knew a subject change when he heard it. Aegon scoffed and Abby tutted. “I said they see potential for someone to curry favor with. Your sister may be your father’s heir, Jeyne Arryn rules over the Eyrie, but your sister’s rule puts in doubt their own holdings. Should their sisters and their sister’s children then come before them, or the eldest daughter who married the heir to another keep? Not to mention a woman? Sitting the Iron Throne? Ruling over them when they would not even let their own wives do so?”

“It’s an ugly fucking chair,” Aegon complained.

“So you would not mind your wife ruling you?” was her teasing reply. Warmth spread through his belly - whether from Abby’s words of ruling him and the images that conjured to mind, or the reassurance she was not going to press him to ‘at least think about it’.

“I would not mind, for my wife is far cleverer than I.” The words were easy, calling her wife, that it nearly caught him off guard. Abby paused, teeth scraping over the pout of her lower lip, stained dark with the wine. He took the goblet from her to take another drink. “I do mind that they think me willing to steal my sister’s birthright - something made abundantly fucking clear that is not, and never will, be mine as long as our father lives. If her marrying Daemon did not cause it among-” He caught himself and shook his head. “Nothing will knock her from that pedestal. I mislike them thinking me such a monster.” It did not matter if he and Rhaenyra were close. They were far from it, and the war of jealousy, of anger and frustration towards her, did not mean he would take the throne from her in retribution, first born son or not.

Setting the bottle down on the low table before the fire, he lifted his arms, pushing up on his toes until his spine and shoulders popped deliciously. He groaned, tucking his hand beneath his shirt to scratch his belly and growled as he felt a cool hand join his, nails slightly sharper scratching against his skin and the fine hairs running along his skin, vanishing beneath his waistband.

“Decided to pet me instead?” he groaned happily, nuzzling his nose against the crown of her head and inhaling the bright scent of her hair. The distraction she provided was a good one and he let out a snort of laughter when she pushed him back onto the couch.

“You are most certainly not a monster, nor as awful as they try to paint you with such ambitions,” she said fiercely, immediately, and he held onto her defensive words and reassurance, let them be a balm to his wounded soul and the space where Sunfyre purred, content with the sweet and fierce words.

Aegon let his head fall back on the back of the couch and enjoyed the way she looked above him. Her face was slightly flushed from the wine, mouth stained red as a rosebud, small and plump and begging to be kissed. She was covered up in her dressing gown, no erotic enticement that he was used to seeing and yet she stirred his blood and his arousal all the same. ‘Lovely’, he thought, reaching a hand up to tug on the end of her copper braid, demanding her closer.

“I would devour you,” he murmured, licking his own wine stained lips. He’d tasted her off his fingers, but had yet to truly indulge the way he wanted. To escape into her was all he wanted, better than the wine that coursed through his veins. This was the vice he wished to indulge in, to lose himself in, and all the better with his Abrogail, his love.

Abby raised her eyebrows at him and pressed her hand to his knees to make room before lowering herself before him. His mouth immediately went dry, his lilac eyes widening as he took in her adorably focused look. First, she went for one boot, tossing it away, then the other followed and he settled in to be taken care of. Fingers, delicate with a needle, needy and demanding when in his hair, perfect when tangled with his own, began to work on the lacing of his trousers. His cock twitched, half hard already from her touch, and the groan Aegon made when she touched him had his toes curling against the rug.

Her giggle was sweet, as everything about her was. It was by no means the first time she’d taken his cock in hand, fingers struggling to wrap around his girth in a way that made him see stars, that begged to see her stretched around him, whimpering and whining to take him. This was no different. She drew him out, moisture already gathering around the head and her thumb immediately swiped to spread it around, a gentle squeeze following.

“Missed you,” he murmured, wrapping her braid around his hand once and tugged her closer. Abby’s pupils were blown wide and the flush of her cheeks was deeper, and he knew she liked the gentle pulling of her hair. Aegon had been delighted to discover how much she liked it when he handled her in such a way. “Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Abby smiled, a shy look of a blushing maiden, before she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of him his mouth jealous with need of her. He jerked at her braid in surprise and she yelped, shock rather than pain and an apology fell from him. Her eyes narrowed at him, assessing.

“Did you like that?”

No longer soft. No longer guileless. No longer his little rabbit; this was his kēlītsos, the little lion batting about its prey. Her thumb was idly stroking the underside of his cock in the way that sent him to shivering, balls aching, and he nodded. He lifted his free hand to cradle the soft curve of her jaw, thumb pressing against her lower lip. His heart was thudding. He’d wanted this for so long, had dreamt of it, but hadn’t asked, unwilling when she was so new to all of this.

Her mouth opened more, and he looked at the sweet pink inside, and Aegon released a long, shuddering breath.

“Please,” he whispered.

Abby’s teeth nipped at his thumb and he let her go, shifting around to give her more room. His fingers danced over the little buttons holding her dressing gown closed, tugging idly at one. Aegon wanted to tug at her collar, take a peek at her breasts, but the angle denied what sight was his. Another snort of laughter escaped him when she reached up to his chest to push him back. He watched, enraptured, as she opened her mouth once more, resting the salty, warm tip of his cock on the pillow of her tongue and wrapped her pretty lips around him.

“Jaw soft,” he told her through his groan. “Do not force yourself to take more.” She wouldn’t be able to, and he did not want her to hurt herself or him. Just as her sweet words soothed his woes, her mouth soothed him as well.

Aegon let himself fall into the warm tingle of wine and arousal pumping through his veins, gaze heavy lidded as his Abrogail pleasured him. The vision she was to him had him aching and it took everything not to force himself further into her mouth the longer she continued, to use his grip on her braid to guide her down. He would be good for her. A good teacher. He felt her sigh and moan around him, and praise fell from his lips.

“That’s a good lass… you’re doing so well,” he reassured her, delight settling into the heated knot in his belly with each happy wiggle she made. Even as the pacing of her mouth left something to be desired, or the moment where he felt the tease of her teeth before she adjusted and left him wanting more of that sharpness that had his breath catching, he still could not imagine a more intense experience. What she lacked in experience and technique, she more than made up for in exuberance and the simple fact it was her on her knees for him. Cassandra Baratheon might have had a mouth that could take him down, but his precious girl wanted him.

He desired nothing more than to be truly wanted.

Her mouth popped off, strings of spittle clinging from his cock to her lips as she gasped for air, eyes wet with the tears that came from taking him, and he hushed her, reaching up to stroke her cheek and smiling as she nuzzled into his hand. His thumb stroked over her mouth, spreading spit and his own essence until her lips shone with it, glossy and inviting. “Easy now, you can use your hand for a bit.” She was good at that. Abby nodded, eager, and tugged at the waistband of his trousers.

“Up,” she ordered hoarsely, and he complied, helping her work them down and off so there was no barrier. Aegon reached behind his head to tug off his shirt and lifted a foot to rest on the table behind her, lazy and languid, balls tight and aching. A whine stuck in Abby’s throat, those depthless eyes looking up at him as she leaned down, tracing her tongue along his balls, her hand sliding down to cup them the way he’d taught her. Long licks, kisses, each different affection, had Aegon feeling as if he’d spill all over her and ruin her pretty gown. “You are being so good for me,” she told him when she lifted her head from him to smile up at him.

“I want to be good for you,” he swore with a frantic nod. “I will be, I promise. Please don’t stop.”

Abby had the gall to giggle at him. It was then that Aegon noticed that one of her hands disappeared and he realized that it had slid beneath the gap of her dressing down, her nightgown beneath bunched up. A fresh wave of heat washed through him at the idea of her own arousal so demanding from this that she needed to find relief.

Oh, his poor kēlītsos.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered, and he could hear the catch in her voice, just there when he knew her arousal was growing. Abby’s hand worked him, slick and perfect with that slight twist of her grip and he nodded.

“Please,” he begged again. “Clever girl, you’ve learned so fast, you can do it. I know you can.” He tugged on her braid again, hard enough for her to feel it, and it drew a moan from her, the arm that was tucked beneath her gown moving a little faster. “Open up, you’re almost there.” His words were catching with his anticipation as he fed her his cock once more and Abby took him with an eager whine that vibrated up from the base of his spine. His hips jerked towards her, unable to help himself, and she choked as more of himself forced inside but she didn’t stop, taking him with greedy, needy sounds. Then, her other hand joined and the sensation of her wet fingers stroking against his balls and the soft skin just behind had him seeing stars.

It was over nearly as soon as it had started and he was falling into his end like he was still a green boy, the pressure at the base of his spine imploding, pulling him farther and farther down until he was pushing her away, attempting and failing to warn her of what came next. Abby's eyes were wide, wet and blue and endless, as he came, her name choking off in an almost pathetic cry. She was not deterred, the first of his spend catching along her cheek before she was taking him in hand, continuing to stroke him as he caught along her chin and mouth, over her pretty dressing gown that he got to ruin after all.

Aegon did not care, his vision blurry, everything focused on the feel of her hand, the pleasure of his release, the way the milky white spend decorated her. There was a strange sense of waste in the back of his mind that he did not give more thought to but knew where it came from. That time would come soon enough.

He fell back against the couch, limbs soft and tingling, his own mouth wet, his skin heated in that satisfying, post-peak flush even more the better for it was Abby that brought it on, because she loved him. Gods, he loved her. He loved her so much he could not find all the words for it.

“I love you,” he panted, head lolling over to his shoulder as he gazed at her, fondness, affection, everything he could not put into words heavy in his tone.

“I love you too,” she returned, voice rough and weighted and just as sincere, meeting him in the place between them. Affection surged through him and Aegon tugged at her braid again before dropping it, hands reaching for her arms to draw her up his body, his eyes dark and heavy as her tongue swiped against the silkiness of him against her mouth. In a daze, he reached up to push more of it off her chin and into her mouth, and she noisily sucked the taste of him off his fingers.

Eager and adventurous, Abby was not some soft maiden, frightened of a romantic touch. Nay, Abby was an eager lover, excited to be with him, wanting to be with him. How many years had he spent chasing a peak that he could not name, throwing money at women, men sometimes, trying to find the piece that he craved. He was far more experienced than she would ever be, and how he desperately wanted to take her, to bury himself in the home of her body.

How easy it would be, and yet it was the knowledge that it was expected of him to 'ruin' her before their wedding that stopped him. To get her fat with his child, to take some kind of advantage of her, to only sate his own desire. The way the bitter bitch of a septa had grown horrified at their needy kisses in the gallery, to Aemond's angered remarks in the library, to Mother's hawk-sharp stare every time Aegon drew close, the reminders to Abby about 'virtue' in his mother's solar in the evenings. The idea that he was seen as some insatiable, lust filled creature who could not be trusted to control himself, raked hot against his insides. The way he was judged, and the way he knew she would be judged, left him feeling just as strange and raw as the assumptions that he coveted his sister's birthright.

To deny himself the full pleasures of his body allowed him to shake away his own past; to discover in the slow build up of all that brought her pleasure was a new experience and one that he would draw out - to deny himself the pleasure just as he denied her the full experience of him - to build up the anticipation was too enticing.

He kissed her then, the taste of wine, of her and him, making his belly burst into excited moths like the ones pinned to his sister’s collection boards. Abby was shivering and filled with tension as her own peak had not yet been realized, but she came into him eagerly, a needy thing in heat, and he would sate her as she had so kindly and sweetly done for him.

“You are a mess,” he chuckled, and Abby’s flushed skin burned deeper once more. He pondered for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and rising from the couch.

She squealed, a delighted sound, and clung to him as he took her to the bed and deposited her amidst the soft blankets. He braced his arms on either side of her, capturing her mouth for another kiss before he pulled away to get a clean cloth to wipe the rest of her face with. The water in the basin was cool, and he took his lady firmly by the chin to work on wiping her face. Even as Abby’s giggles filled the room, she remained pliant and well-behaved, teeth worrying on her lip as he cleaned her up.

“Ticklish, are we?” he teased her, fingers fiddling with the buttons on her dressing gown. There were only five of them. Five annoying little bastards kept him from her perfect breasts.

“How dare you tease me when I performed so well,” Abby replied with her nose tilted in the air haughtily, which bared her throat to him and the slick shine of spend clinging to her skin. He dove in, licking it up with the flat of his tongue, pushing her back onto the bed as he hovered over her, devouring her neck with exaggerated sounds as if he were Sunfyre feasting upon a carcass. She shrieked, giddy and squirming, his captured prey, and he growled and hummed against her throat and lost himself in the sound, in the scent of her. “Oh no! The dragon is going to eat me!” she cried, pushing at his shoulders as fiercely as she clung to him. He groaned, grinding his hips against her as he felt the bite of her nails in his skin, the edge of pain soothing amidst the pleasure.

The dragon was, indeed, about to feast.

He would be as good of a boy as she had called him and not tear the dressing gown. Aegon took his time to undo each of the fastenings, easing her out of the pretty fabric before tossing it blindly behind him.The nightgown beneath was simple - cream colored linen with pink ribbon laced through the neck, little ruffles along the ends of her sleeves. Nowhere near the near sheer gown he was used to seeing her in. There was something sweet in this, something that called to the dark thing in him that demanded he ruin, and he nuzzled between her breasts, tugging at the pink ribbon with his teeth to hear her laughter again. How much better to have wine in his blood and the sound of her in his ears to chase away all the dark thoughts that haunted the corners of his mind, chasing endlessly, predator to prey. Aegon’s teeth snatched at a nipple, peaked beneath the nightgown, the damp of his mouth soaking into the material.

Abby’s fingers dove into his hair, her other hand grasping desperately at his shoulder as she arched into him. There had been no sweeter experience than discovering all the ways she found pleasure, and Abby was deeply responsive. Not in the way the others had been - responding only to what he sought regardless of the pleasure, only for what he paid them for. Abby was a taut string, full of ticklish spots and places that made her whimper and writhe. Aegon wondered if he could make her peak from toying with her breasts alone - he’d heard for some that was possible, and he was curious if it would be the case for his love.

He kept her clothed, the need inside him thrashing against the restraint, wanting to devour her, to take her and make her his without question. Aegon’s mouth continued to focus on the ripe swell of her breasts while his hand reached down to tug her gown up over her thighs, reaching beneath the fabric to tug her smallclothes away, fingers working at the tie. She was a clever girl, reaching down and helping him remove them until he could touch her freely. Aegon sighed, long and low, vibrating at the feel of her silky and warm against his fingers. A final nip at her breast and he slid down the bed between her thighs. Aegon laughed as they spasmed, and Abby tried to close them around his head.

“Let me,” he coaxed her and she squealed, softly, wriggling against the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice hushed, and he pressed her thighs apart, Abby letting them fall as he hooked a trembling thigh over his shoulder.

“Kissing you.” Aegon stroked her thigh soothingly and nipped along the soft skin of her thigh. She jerked beneath him with a needy whimper and her fingers found themselves in his hair once more. With a content sigh, Aegon leaned forward to stroke the flat of his tongue softly along the seam of her, the taste of salty and sweet bursting on his tongue. Abby gave a choked cry before it turned muffled and he lifted his head to see her shoving her nightgown over her mouth to muffle the sound. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the warmth of her, humming so she could feel it and how she squirmed and wriggled at the sensation. Aegon wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t muffle her sounds - he desperately wanted to hear her, every sound, every sigh, to hear his Abrogail whimper and beg for him.

Though he knew how loud Abby could be and the last thing he needed was his mother finding out about this.

Aegon kissed his way back down, avoiding the place where she ached the most and tending to the rest of her. Spreading her with his fingers that knew her so intimately, and allowing his tongue to do the work, kissing her here as well as he kissed her ripe mouth. Seven help him, all he wanted to do was feast upon her with abandon, to hold her down as he brought wave after wave of pleasure over her. Not now though, not yet when he’d never touched her like this, and there were so many new things to learn about her, and what brought her the pleasure she so deserved.

It was so simple to fall into it, the enjoyment in the tasting of her, his hands stroking along her thighs, along the tender flesh behind her knees, reaching up to stroke her belly and feel her desperate hand grab his, clinging to him as she rolled her hips into his touch with a growing insistence. When he wrapped his mouth around the tender bud, another sound ripped through her, back arching, sound muffled behind her attempts at quiet. Her fingers pulled in his hair and he felt it shoot straight through his cock, feeling the stirrings of his arousal come back. He growled softly, nipping along her thigh near the crease, the little mole there a hidden thing only for him. Teeth nipped harder, curiously, and Abby cried out again, fingers pulling at his hair and something dark and molten stirred in his chest. The need to bite her, to break her tender skin, leave a scar of his teeth there for him to admire, for her to touch when she needed him, coursed through him, the needy, feral thing inside of him demanding it. It could match the mark he’d been deepening along her shoulder, that filled him with a heated possessiveness every time he touched or saw the evidence of his claim.

Not yet. He couldn’t yet, not here, not now. But he could leave a bruise, mouth worrying at the soft skin of her left thigh as he left numerous marks along her collarbones, places she could hide and cover. When they were free at Harrenhal, he would not let her hide them. Let them see how much he loved her, how much he craved her.

How Abrogail belonged to him.

Aegon picked up his pace as her hips grew insistent, her fingers tugging harder on his hair, wordless mumbles and whimpers peppered with her gasping, “Please,” and “Aegon,” and even something whispered in her mother tongue, the words giving her a twist and lilt to her tone, “Mo realta geal.” It took only two swipes of his tongue over her clit to have her crying out, slick gathering along her folds, her body trembling at the newness of the sensations, and the familiarity of the peak he gave her. He moved back to press kisses along her thighs and up to press more of them along the clenching muscles of her belly.

“I’m not done yet,” he told her, watching in delight as she managed to prop herself onto her elbows, face flushed and her beautiful eyes heavy lidded. Before she could say anything, his tongue swiped at the fresh rush of arousal once more, insistent this time, the pressure increasing from his more exploratory efforts earlier.

He let the need take over, the touch of his teeth nipping at her skin, the way the tip of his tongue danced Valyrian letters over her to find which motions drew her desperate and frantic. After her second peak, Aegon pressed two fingers inside of her, giving her the sensation that he knew she instinctually craved by the way her moan was full of relief, and the shocked cry as he carefully pressed a third inside of her. His mouth and chin shone with the evidence of her, his other arm banding over her stomach to keep her frantic hips steady as he feasted on her, his thank you for her eager display at pleasuring him from earlier. After the third wave crested, Aegon withdrew to press his wet mouth against her belly, working his way up to settle further between her thighs, cock aching as his arousal returned. When he brushed against her, he whimpered, and beneath him, Abby’s hips rolled up trying to catch him. He knew that motion, the way she angled her hips, the way her eyes, blue and wet and blown black, gazed up at him.

“Aegon-”

He cradled her jaw with damp fingers, his eyes focused on hers, the little freckles sprinkled along her nose and cheeks. A harsh swallow, his throat bobbing, and he let her rock her hips up against his, feeling the slick warmth of her body against him, knowing that after her peaks, she’d be ready for him. It would take little to settle himself and bury his cock inside her sweet cunt.

Their breaths came out in tandem. Heavy gasping filled the air as he lowered his head to press his forehead to hers, noses touching, breathing in each other’s exhales. While he cradled her jaw, Abby reached down between them to wrap her fingers around him, guiding the tip of him along her folds.

“Careful,” he warned her, thumb pressing lightly against the pretty, fluttering pulse in her throat.

“I will,” Abby whispered, voice little and delicate, a mewl as her eyes fluttered, his cock rubbing along the seam of her, bumping along the apex of her. “I need you… I hate waiting…”

He kissed her softly, the arm he was propped up on shaking. “I know, hunītsos… soon. We won’t leave our bed for days, I swear,” Aegon promised her. “I’ll tie you to it, have my way with you. Hells, you can tie me down and have your way, darling.”

“And I’ll say thank you,” she gasped and he could feel the clenching over her body, the fluttering of her cunt against his cock as she peaked again, a little ripple compared to the waves from before but all the same. “As I thank everything I ride.”

It wasn’t more than a moment before he spilled over her for the second time, his spend dripping across her cunt and slipping across the back of her hand. Their moans were soft, muffled as she swiped her tongue in his mouth, and he gave himself over to her, settling into the softness of her body.

Soon.

Soon she would be his, forever.

The double doors to the king’s apartments had intimidated Aegon since he was a boy.

That was their purpose, after all - to be intimidating and guard the sanctum of the monarch. Aegon wondered if his namesake had wanted such doors, or if this was from the menace that Maegor had sought to employ. Were they modeled on the lord’s chambers on Dragonstone? He’d only been to the island a handful of times and had never made it towards those sacred apartments that his elder sister now kept. The ironwood imported from the North was dark and gleaming, the intricate carvings of snarling dragons flying through the knots and whorls of the deeply polished wood. The handles themselves were cast iron, the sinewy body reminding him of Sunfyre’s sleek frame, wings splayed out to press against the door.

Sers Lorent Marbrand and Steffon Darklyn flanked the entrance, the elder Ser Lorent looking at him with his hand raised to open the doors for him but had paused at whatever look was on Aegon’s face. The man was not much older than Ser Criston, his auburn hair gleaming a shade of molten gold in the shaft of afternoon light.

If his father was dead behind that door, would the men standing here bend the knee to him, swear fealty to the king’s first born son? Or would they flee to Dragonstone to throw themselves at Rhaenyra’s feet? Would the blood of he and his brothers still coat their blade?

‘You are the challenge, Aegon. Should Rhaenyra take the throne, your life may be forfeit.’

Would it really? If he didn’t matter to this man?

‘But you do matter,’ a little voice stroked at his thoughts. ‘Near a full moon’s turn, this castle was filled with the expectation that you would be named heir. Finally acknowledged. The rights as first born son finally, finally extended to you. Finally, Sire would have to acknowledge that he beget you, could no longer ignore and wish you were a dead child born to a dead woman.’

The people had cheered for him. They had called for him.

Would being king make that worth it?

Aegon tugged at his left cuff, tucking his fingers inside where the favor was wrapped comfortingly around his wrist over where she had scratched him all those weeks ago. Warmth flooded through his veins, and the knots in his chest eased, and the scent of her rose and currant perfume oil danced through his memory.

It didn’t matter. None of this mattered; the king did not matter, not anymore. For once, Aegon found himself relieved to greet the day, one step closer to escaping this city and leaving the machinations and the ghosts behind. The future was no longer a dim, necrotic thing, a looming noose waiting for him to climb the gallows. His mother and the Tower’s ambitions, once smothering and all consuming, now felt like something he could finally escape. He had dreamed for years of fleeing across the Narrow Sea to the pleasure houses of Lys, or the once secret city of Braavos, and to know that the Riverlands held such an escape for him, away from the legacy of his forebears and into the life of a country lord, allowed him to finally breathe.

Ser Lorent opened the door and announced his presence. “Prince Aegon, Your Grace.”

It took everything in him to not wrinkle his nose at the medicinal scent that clung to the cloying drifts of incense as he stepped into the room, the great door shutting behind him with enough of a thud that he fought not to flinch. It reverberated through his bones, and Aegon had the mad thought that it was the stone door of a tomb, trapping him inside with the shambling corpse of his sire.

Whatever new concoction Maester Orwyle had been giving him appeared to have staved off the rapid decline he’d been experiencing beneath Mellos’ care. The rot had eased somewhat, and the king’s mind was clearer. He sat beside his table, a great book before him making notes about a new expansion, no doubt. Aegon approached quietly as his father did not acknowledge him right away, and for the first time in some years, he took stock of the Freehold.

The scent of stone dust in the air struck another memory. This was one where he was smaller, mother preoccupied with Daeron’s first steps. He’d slipped in behind Lord Lyonel to lay on the cool stone beneath the table. His father had found him later, surprised, before Aegon had explained that he was too hot and the ailing king got down on the floor and lay beside him. He’d been so surprised that his sire had joined him that he froze, uncertain as to what to say. The king had filled the silence, speaking of how dragon’s blood runs hot in their veins through the bond they have with their mounts. He’d spoken of the theories of the magic that created the dragons, that made them, the Valyrians, different from mortal men so they might ride in the skies.

His breath caught in his throat as his sire patted his hand.

“You’re a good boy, Aegon.”

“Thank you, father.”

The Freehold had expanded further, nearly pressed up against the balcony doors if not for the slight gap behind it for one to get through to open the doors. His father’s quill scratched across the paper, fully occupied with whatever thought he was absorbed in. Aegon’s eyes rove over the buildings, and settled on the great dragon carving perched upon a platform on one of the buildings. The wings were broad things, beginning to spread open, its thick neck arched, its head a rough shape that reminded him of Vhagar. If only it were painted, decorated the way the frescos and murals of the Holdfast were.

Aemond would surely know more about what Aegon was looking at, what this district was meant to be, but Aegon knew that even his brother’s voracious appetite did not hold a candle to their father’s obsession. Aegon doubted even Gaemon and Daenys the Dreamer could recreate the Freehold in such detail. Had the warlord Aenar thought of teaching his grandchildren of Valyria? Or had the coming of the Doom and losing everything they’d ever known, the people and places that were once home, been too painful of a thing?

“I am not sure if that dragon will speak to you no matter how hard you look at it.”

The chuckle that followed was raspy and Aegon jerked as if caught doing something he shouldn’t, backing away from the table before he broke anything just by being too close. He looked up, his sire’s dark lilac eyes so like his own, cloudy with his illness that had prematurely aged him.

Aegon’s hands shifted, wiping his palms on his legs to keep from crossing his arms protectively over himself. He did not know how to speak to the man before him, and all thoughts and preparations he’d made that morning, going over what he’d say to him in his head had all vanished.

“Sunfyre is a good listener, but I don’t think dragons make the best conversationalists, stone or otherwise,” he said, his voice higher than he’d intended.

Another chuckle and a shake of his head. “No, they do lack that needed ability to carry on the other end of a conversation.” He hummed in the way that Aemond had. “The lords of the realm had nothing but good things to say of you, my boy. An impressive feat of might in the tourney. Lord Edmund came to beg for reparations for his injury. I told him he had fought well, but let us not mewl over being bested by someone better, hm?” A shake of his head and the king set his quill down, his full attention on Aegon in a way he had not experienced in some time.

A heated sensation coursed through Aegon and he couldn’t figure out where it had started. He felt it spread in his chest, along the back of his neck and into his cheeks, not quite embarrassment, not quite pride either, but something that felt in-between, as if being seen was both a good thing and an embarrassing thing.

“Everyone knows.”

“I imagine the man is sore knowing not only has he lost to me in front of the realm in combat, but the hand of my Lady as well,” Aegon said, fingers twitching along his wrist for the reassurance he needed once more. It was easier to speak of things not quite himself, than to figure out how to respond to his king’s approval. Even his grandfather had little complaint at how he conducted himself during the festivities. There’d even been approval as to the attacker in the camp as well.

Thinking about it still caused Aegon’s blood to boil, the ache in his hands to raise that bastard from the dead and tear him apart himself.

“You will do well, I think,” the king continued “in your own country house. I envy you the escape, in truth, and it will be good for you. Get out on your own.”

As if Aegon was being sent to a hunting lodge in a little village, and not the largest castle in the realm, beneath the eye of Lord Tully and half the banners displeased at Aegon’s presence, and the others who spent time vying for favor. Still, the king’s platitudes strangely bolstered Aegon and he straightened his shoulders, coming around the table slowly, lingering along the edges of what looked like a market.

“Thank you, father.” Aegon was pleased that his voice did not falter on the word. “I’m looking forward to it. Sunfyre will enjoy the freedom, and I know Abby is looking forward to creating a household.” Aegon was still trying to learn their names outside of the twins who had remained in King’s Landing with both Abby and Helaena, as well as the bubbling and babbling Ryger, who was helping Abby practice the River tongue, and in turn, she was practicing with him. Warmth spread through his chest and he finally met his father’s gaze. “I came to ask about the family jewels.”

“Oh?” The king settled in his chair, a curious tilt to his head as he waited for more.

Aegon swallowed. “Yes. Abrogail is to be my wife, a princess of House Targaryen. It is only fitting that she have her own pieces from the treasury, and I’d like to pick some for her.” He took a breath, forging on before he could lose his nerve. “I would also like to make some custom pieces, that would be hers to… heirlooms. I saw how pleased she was to receive some of her mother’s things. I’d like for her to have that for our own children.”

He imagined Abby’s belly, round with child, his child, their family. Abby, dripping in jewels that he’d chosen for her, that brought out the sparkle of her eyes, the red of her mouth, to glimmer around her throat and in her curls. Aegon’s fingers twitched beside him as if he could reach into his mind for her, to draw the vision in reality.

“Mmm…” That hum, again so like Aemond’s and yet so very not, broke through Aegon’s thoughts and he watched his sire nod, reaching for a piece of parchment. “True enough. Let it not be said that House Targaryen does not care for their own. Women do love jewels.” A dry chuckle. “You should be careful how frequently you give them to her. She’ll come to expect a piece for every minor inconvenience. What one must do to keep the peace.” There was a scratching across the parchment, a pause before it resumed. “One of the crowns, of course. And jewels for… two pieces. I think that is more than enough to supplement whatever House Strong holds in their own treasury.”

He held the parchment out and Aegon closed the distance, as close as he dared, to take it from him. “Take this to Lord Beesbury’s office. He holds the keys to the treasury.”

“They’re not held by your own office?” Aegon asked curiously, glancing down at the scratch of his sire’s hand. A tiara and jewels for two pieces. Aegon wanted to cry that it was not enough, that it would never be enough, but it was more than he had truly expected. To be given this so willingly had left him feeling lightheaded; he’d been prepared to defend his request and to not have to was a strange feeling.

It was not something he thought he should get used to.

“No, the treasury holds the taxes, which in turn goes back to the people. Wars, tourneys, the maintenance of the King’s Road. The servants here and at Dragonstone, the upkeep of the Red Keep. The allowance for you and your siblings to fund all that drinking and merrymaking that I know you like. Your mother’s ladies, the Kingsguard, the Dragonpit… Feeding dragons is not cheap.” The king laughed again and Aegon prickled at it, uncertain how to handle the man before him talking with him so normally, as if they were truly father and son. He ran his tongue over his teeth behind his lips as his sire settled back in his chair and the heavy, dusty book in front of him. “No need to pay double the guard to simply store our things somewhere else. Take that to Lord Beesbury, and do give him my regards, boy.”

Boy. At least it was better than Baelon.

Aegon looked at the paper in hand, permission so unexpectedly granted, before his feet moved and he knocked on the door for it to open. The heavy thing swung open, Ser Lorent giving Aegon a slight nod and…

“Ser Criston,” Aegon said, not quite hiding his surprise to see his mother’s man standing there. Lilac eyes searched the Dornishman’s face as Ser Lorent closed the king’s door behind them. If Aegon didn’t know any better, he’d think that before the man’s features smoothed out, he might have looked worried. Ser Criston? Worried? The thought didn’t seem to register with him. He’d seen Ser Criston look concerned when one of them took a particularly nasty blow in the training yard and blood was involved. He’d seen concern when Helaena was having one of her struggling moments where she needed to get away from everyone.

“Your Grace.” The knight’s voice was low as he fell in step beside Aegon, a half step behind as he did with his lady mother. Unlike the last time, all those weeks ago after the knight had tried to give him advice, there was no air of judgment radiating off the man. “Prince Daeron expressed his wishes for the pair of you to go flying.”

“Did he? Well, I’ll find him after this.” A smile stretched along Aegon’s face. Daeron had been incandescent with the prospect of going flying with his siblings now that Tessarion was big enough to take a rider, and Aegon knew Helaena had gone out with him already. Aegon tried not to feel guilty for it, since there would be plenty of time for the pair of them to ride together without Mother fretting all the while.

"Your Grace."

Aegon paused and turned to look at the knight, uncertainty raising the hairs on the back of his neck. 'This is it', he thought. This was when the lecture would start, when Ser Criston Cole, his mother's sworn shield and protector, the man who first taught him how to hold a sword, who had been there when he was frightened and afraid after Daeron's birth, when Mother was bedridden, when the maesters feared she would not make it, would take another piece from him, and Aegon wondered if it would be that one piece that would send him toppling into shambles.

Nothing he'd done would matter. Nothing would be good enough.

"I have not had the time to tell you how well you've done," came the words that Aegon struggled to register. "I must admit, I was uncertain how things would turn out given your long time away from training, but..." Cole shook his head, a smile crossing his handsome face. "That was an inspired fight, my prince. You took what I've taught you and what you've learned on your own and used it well."

A flush of heat rushed through Aegon, that sudden nervous flush that usually came from shame, but in this moment felt strangely optimistic. "Thank you, Ser Criston," he said, voice stilted, mouth dry.

"You've handled yourself admirably these past weeks, my prince," Cole continued. "I am proud of you, and the man you've shown yourself to be, and I have made that known to your mother." His dark eyes shifted away as his fingers drummed against the pommel of his sheathed sword. Praise was hard earned from Ser Criston, and something Aegon had thought he himself had long given up chasing, as Aemond received it so easily. "She worries for you, of course."

"Of course," Aegon said faintly, eyes burning and he cleared his throat. He was, much like in his sire's room, a boy once more, small in many different ways. The weight of expectation was looming and all he wanted to do was run from it, and how unforgiving the failure could be. Yet he yearned for it. "Thank you for your kind words, Ser Criston." Stilted. Unsure. Aegon felt foolish. He felt like something else was looming and it wasn't coming.

"Should you wish to continue training, I would be glad of it," the elder continued, peering back at him. "With your uncle, Ser Gwayne, coming with you to Harrenhal, you would also be in good hands."

"I will consider it, Ser Criston," Aegon said quickly, desperate to escape the strangeness of receiving praise. "Is this why you came looking for me?"

Cole was quiet, watching him for a moment before shaking his head. "I heard you had gone to see the king." There was more to the statement but Cole did not finish it, and Aegon was not certain how to take it. Had Cole been worried for him? "Your mother did express hope you would join her in the Sept after supper for evening prayers, but I did not think she would ask you outright. That task might be left to the Lady Abrogail.”

Aegon grimaced at the idea of it. He had accompanied his mother to her prayers over the years, had found his own sense of comfort not in the gods, but in the quiet time with her. The way Mother’s face would relax in the candle light, the whispered prayers, even stories of his grandmother who had died a handful of years before he’d been born. The moments were precious to him, were moments where the gulf between them did not feel more than a trickling creek, where Mother’s hand rested warmly between his shoulder blades or stroked her fingers along the nape of his neck as she did when he was small.

“I’ll attend with her tonight,” he said softly. “Thank you, Ser Criston. Please send my mother my wishes.”

“A round!” Aegon declared, hopping up onto the bench, his hand gripping Alyn’s shoulder. “For Alyn Hull! The best fucking man I know!” He giggled, pleased with himself even as Alyn smacked him in embarrassment, ignoring his protestations and dropping back down in his seat.

The Shallows was a tavern they had only recently become more acquainted with as Aegon drew further from the Street of Silk, and Alyn’s aunt and uncle ran the place at the top of the street from the main docks. It had become a comfortable place, all considered, and Aegon had found excitement in the stream of sailors and bards that frequented the place, often only in the city for a night or two, with tales from the Stepstones and the fighting, of far off Myr with their new inventions, Braavos and their clever fighting men.

“You’re ridiculous,” Alyn shook his head, shoving at his shoulder once more as stabbed a hunk of meat out of the stew.

“He’s not,” came the clipped tone, a northern burr tempered by the southern accent. Fresh tankards of the house ale were set on the table as Bri shook her head. The deep green of her kirtle looked nearly black in the low light of the tavern, her skirt tucked up in her wide black belt. “It’s what you deserve.” It was Alyn’s turn to receive a hit as she shoved at his shoulder, before Alyn grabbed her hand and pulled her into him to kiss her cheek.

“You just can’t wait to get rid of me,” he complained. “You’re so happy the prince is dragging me all the way to Harrenhal so you can finally run away with Beric Storm.”

Aegon reached for his tankard and quickly occupied himself while the pair fell into their bickering, and he was quite certain Alyn’s hand had made it to the wench’s backside. He rolled his eyes and turned to look out at the rest of the room from their vantage point at the back of the tavern. Below, the crush of small folk were cheering as the drinks were dispersed, shouts of ‘Hail Prince Aegon!’ in thanks and calls and well wishes for Alyn.

“I’d have no one else by my side, Hull,” Aegon said after Bri returned to her duties, grasping his friend by the shoulder.

“Who else would keep you alive?” countered Alyn with a snort. “I consider it a fine payment for my bodyguard services to you over the years.” Aegon prickled at how transactional Alyn made it sound, a frown crossing his face before Alyn’s hand gripped his shoulder in return, drawing his attention back to him. “We have had fun here, in the city, have we not?” he asked, a smile instead of his usual playful smirk crossing his face. “TIme for us to have a new adventure. How robust do you think the city life of Harren Town actually is?”

“Fuck if I know,” Aegon said shortly, still prickling but trying to shake it away. “You can bring your girl with you.”

“Nay,” Alyn murmured, taking a swallow from the fresh tankard. “Bri promised to stay with my mother until Addam’s back from the Stepstones.” Alyn’s elder brother was serving in the Velaryon fleet, fighting down south in Lord Colrys’ war. “She won’t leave until he’s safe and returned to us.” Aegon nodded, understanding. The Hulls were a close family, Alyn’s aunt and uncle having opened the tavern when Alyn was a babe, not long before Aegon himself had been born. His mother was one of many who wove fishing nets - a trade that could be easily found north in Harrenhal. However, Aegon had offered to put his mother up as well, set up and comfortable how he knew Alyn hoped for her.

“Word from your brother?”

A shrug. “Lord Velaryon won another battle - according to those merchants from Qohor that came in this week. Rumor is the Triarchy might be enlisting the Bright Banners.”

Aegon drummed his fingers against the tankard. “He’ll be fine. And when he comes back, we’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” Another drink to cloak it in the casualness rather than the seriousness of his words, uncertain how Alyn would take it.

“First you make me your steward, now you offer to make my brother another part of your new house?” There was a teasing quality in Alyn’s voice, but Aegon knew better, just as his friend knew his own tones masked his own truth. They had been through much together, things that neither of them would ever speak of, but knotted them together like the nets Marilda Hull wove with such care.

He snorted and shook his head, tearing off a hunk of the fresh bread Bri had brought, soaking it in his own stew. “Addam can do what he likes, and whatever I can make happen, I will. It’s not charity,” Aegon quickly added, because Alyn would rankle at times about charity until he learned not to complain about it. “He served the realm. Should he want to be a Gold Cloak, should he want to set up a tavern in Harren Town, hells, send him to Oldtown and become a Maester-”

“Aeg,” Alyn cut in, fingers gripping his shoulder and Aegon fell silent, eyes focused on the food before him. “I want to come with you to Harrenhal. I want to make a better life, I don’t want to raise my children in this stinking cesspool of a city, I want my mother to have the garden she’s always dreamed of.”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Aegon said, voice low, the frown pulling at his mouth once more. “I’d still let you have it for-”

“Aegon,” Alyn said. “As your steward, all I ask is for your respect.”

“And as your liege, all I ask is you tell me when I go wrong,” Aegon replied, finally meeting his friend’s eyes. They were bright green, like his aunt’s, and his mother’s. The silver hair was the only thing that hinted at his origins. His true origins. ‘As your-’ Aegon could not finish the thought and instead he hooked an arm around Alyn’s shoulder, pulling him in to smack a kiss to his silver head. “Here, steward. Give that bard a dragon and let’s get something good playing.”

Thank you for being here! I hope you've been enjoying yourself! It's been a hot minute since we had a chonky Aegon POV chapter and with everything having gone on, I thought it was a great time to revisit. Not to mention, I've been sitting on this Viserys interaction since Chapter 9. I've really wanted to dive into certain personality traits of his that often get understandably overshadowed by less than stellar qualities since he's on a different trajectory here. I understand that maybe that's not what some of you are expecting, and that's okay! But I really do love diving into his head and unwrapping him and shaking him in my snow globe, so those of you that enjoy that, again, many thanks for being here. Also I'm so glad to bring Alyn back! We touch a little on that parentage mystery as well <3 I'd love to hear your thoughts and theories! Let me know what you loved about the chapter! What are you looking forward to? Next chapter we have Alicent and Jace and then OFF TO HARRENHAL! OMG are you so excited? I'm so excited! Also omg who was behind the attack?? I hope justice is served one day :prayeremoji: Hope everyone is having a great weekend!!

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen x Targaryen OC

Warnings: None

Chapter: 1.01

“Rhaenyra!” You continue to rapidly bang your fist against the door leading into your elder sister's bedroom. "Rhaenyra, open this door right now!”

You hated her.

“You’re a fucking coward to hide from me!” You didn’t care that your language was unfit for a young lady, a princess; Rhaenyra had cut you deeply, and you wanted to make sure she knew it. “Unlock this door at once!”

You hated her.

“I would have never done this to you,” you sob. “I loved you, Rhaenyra, my big sister. We’re supposed to look out for each other, not... I would never do this. Not to you, never.”

You only stop banging on the door when your fist is pulled back by Ser Criston. “You need to stop before you hurt yourself, princess.”

You knew he was right, but it didn’t stop the anger that was radiating through you. Not only has Rhaenyra humiliated you by sleeping with your husband, she has also given birth to his sons. Three of them. Something you were never even given the chance to do. Your brain comes to a heartbreaking realization, one that makes you want to scream as soon as you think about it. Rhaenyra doesn’t care about you and never did. You feel your knees start to weaken, and your stomach drops. The knight whispers, “I know you’re hurting, princess, but they aren’t worthy of your tears.”

You take a deep breath and wipe your fallen tears away, knowing that he was right. “Thank you, Ser Criston.”

“The queen heard about what happened and would like for you to join her in her quarters. She wishes to offer you her comfort.”

You blink away the tears, your vision becoming more clear, and when it does, you see your husband standing down at the opposite end of the hallway. No doubt he was coming to see her. He was staring at you, looking worried. You feel your heart harden, not wanting to give him or her the satisfaction of seeing you hurt. You push back the sob, desperately wanting to escape your throat. “Ser Criston, do you mind escorting me to the queen's chambers?”

“Of course, princess.”

—

“How could she betray me in such a way?”

Alicent wraps her around your shoulder; she seems genuinely concerned about you. You had managed to maintain a smidgen of your dignity by holding your head high as you walked through the castle, ignoring all the side-eye glances and whispers going on around you. One of Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting brings in a tray of tea that’s supposed to help calm nerves.

“Prin-”

“Ivory,” you correct with a weak smile.

Lord Strong nods, “Ivory, I am ashamed to admit that rumors of my brother's betrayal had reached me long ago, but I assumed there was no truth to it. It wasn’t until I learned about the incident in the training yard this morning that I came to realize it was true.”

You had spent the last year defending Rhaenyra and Harwin, insisting that Jacaerys and Lucerys weren’t fathered by your husband before you were married. Because of your age, you had yet to lay with Harwin, and you thought if he was going to stray, it would be in the streets of silk, not with your own flesh and blood.

“She swore to me in our mothers names that they were Ser Lenors true-born sons. How could I have been so foolish?”

“You aren’t foolish, my sweet.” Alicent picks up a cup of tea and hands it to you, giving you a sympathetic look as she notices your hands trembling. “You have been deceived, and I can only imagine what Viserys will have to say when he finds out.”

You shake your head. It was widely known that Rhaenyra was your father's favorite, and learning what she was really like could be the thing that breaks him. “My love for my father is the only thing keeping me quiet. He is sick; finding out the truth about what Rhaenyra has done might be the thing that kills him, and we do not want him to suffer. If I’m being honest, I don’t know what to do.”

“I find that praying helps me find clarity and reassurance. I pray to the mother nightly; you can join me if you wish.”

“Perhaps I should pray to the warrior as well as the mother.” You chuckle lightly. “I could really use the gods' strength and courage."

—

After visiting the sept the night previously, the queen had arranged for you to stay in a separate bedchamber for the night since your quarter was beside Rhaenyra’s.

In the morning, Ser Criston escorted you back to your quarters; with him by your side, nobody dared approach you. The knight made pleasant small talk and even managed to make you laugh. When you reach your quarters, you thank him before walking into your bedchamber. You sit down at your vanity and begin to unbraid your hair, only stopping when you hear the door opening.

“Flora?” You call out, hoping to see your lady in waiting, who has become a close friend over the years. “Flora, is that you?”

When you turn around, you’re stunned to see Rhaenyra and Harwin. At first, you were afraid that the sight of them would upset you, but now, as you sit in front of them, all you feel is anger.

You say nothing; you turn your back on them and shift your attention to taking the remainder of your braids out. You push down the lump forming in your throat when Rhaenyra kneels down beside you with tears in her eyes. You pretend she isn’t even there and get up to go pick a dress to wear once you are bathed.

“Ivory! Ivory, please,” Rhaenyra begs. “It happened before you were betrothed! I never wanted you to find out like this. Sister, please! Just let me explain!”

You had fully intended to continue giving her the cold shoulder, but hearing the word sister caused you to snap. You can’t believe she had the nerve to call you that. You spin around fast, and your expression pulls into one of anger and hurt as you snap, “Don’t call me that again.”

Rhaenyra steps back as if you’d struck her.

Harwin says, “I am sincerely sorry for betraying your trust.”

You scoff, annoyed that he seems upset when it’s you that should be hurt by his dishonorable actions. “Until such a time that I am of age to perform my duty as princess and your wife, I don’t think we need to speak again.”

“Ivory…”

“You may leave, Ser Harwin.”

When the knight leaves, you turn to face your sister, whose eyes were bloodshot from crying, which angers you further. “Since the day Jace was born, I have loved him; the same is true of Luke. You’ve watched me play with them and sing to them. I’ve basically grown up with them, and not once did you ever think to tell me they were fathered by Harwin.”

“I tried to spare you the pain of knowing the truth.”

You can’t help the laugh that slips past your lips. “You must really hate me.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as more tears roll down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t. I’ve always looked up to you; I wanted to be just like you. My perfect big sister.” You shake your head, backing away from her slightly when she reaches for you. “Do not touch me.”

"When my father told me about his plans for you and Harwin to wed, I tried to stop the betrothal; I really did.”

“I believe you,” you say, wiping away more fallen tears. You hardly knew Harwin; he would occasionally accompany you on walks around the garden, and nothing more than a kiss on the back of the hand was shared between you, but he was still your husband. “Both Jacaerys and Lucerys were born before the betrothal; I would have easily looked past that and done everything I could to help protect them. But Joffrey, he’s only a few days old. Even after I married Harwin, you continued to have an affair with him.”

You see guilt pass over her features before she drops her gaze to the floor and says, “I’m sorry.”

“I still love my nephews; that will never change, but I can’t be around them right now. Not after knowing what I know, it will just be a constant reminder."

“Of my betrayal.” Rhaenyra takes a deep breath; red patches have appeared across her neck and chest. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

When Rhaenyra leaves the room, you throw yourself onto your bed, pull your pillow to your face, and sob into it. This was too much pressure for a girl of one and five to bear.

When someone knocks at your door, you groan a little, assuming Harwin or Rhaenyra had come back. “Go away,” you mumble into your pillow. You lift your head to tell them to go away, but change your mind when you see who it is “Aegon, what are you doing here?”

He avoids looking you in the eye and shrugs. “My mother said you were upset.”

“So you came to check on me?”

You weren’t much older than Aegon; before you had even celebrated your first name day, your father had remarried, and Queen Alicent was pregnant. You were surprised to see Aegon, considering he didn’t spend much time with any of your siblings.

He rolls his eyes and says, “No.”

“Oh, then what are you doing here?”

“Wanted to know if you’d like to go dragon riding together.”

You smile and say, “Sure, that sounds like fun.”

Aegon on Sunfyre and you on Ghost were exactly what you needed to take your mind off everything else that was going on.

[sunnyhvnny]

Hi ! How about yandere HOTD men (Aemond, Jace, Aegon, Daemon) learning their wife take moon tea regularly to not be pregnant with their child ? (and understand why their many attempts at getting her pregnant didn't bring results)

It’s been a minute since I’ve written Yandere!hotd. I also feel like I’ve written something similar to this but for the life of me I can’t find it or remember.

TW: Manipulation, non-con,

Daemon Targaryen

When it comes to his wife, Daemon is an observant man. He knows he is clever already but he prides himself in knowing everything involving his wife. That is how he learned that every morning after a night of coupling, she has a servant bring her moon tea. Daemon knows she didn’t want to marry him and that the only reason they were wed at all was that he wanted her. However, enough time has passed in their marriage for her to come to love him as well.

He gives her only his love and affection. Never does he raise his voice at her or is cruel towards her. He swore to his brother when he agreed to marry her to him, that he would only treat her in an honorable manner. He had upheld his word. That is why he has been sitting on the knowledge of his wife and the moon tea for almost a fortnight, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t want to rage at her or make her frightened of him. He still wanted her love and truthfully, that was why he wanted her to carry his child.

No, he decided an accusation would be the best. He would make her feel guilty. Feel cornered and then she would stop drinking the moon tea on her own.

When his wife enters their shared chambers, he watches as she doesn’t spare him a glance and doesn’t see what he has sat in front of him on the table. She goes about getting ready for bed and it is only after she walks out from behind the changing screen that she finally looks at her husband. He hasn’t said a word the entire time and that in itself is suspicious. Usually, Daemon would already be pawing at her or ranting about his day.

Daemon sees the exact moment her eyes find the bottle of moon tea and realizes why her husband has been so quiet. He knows she won’t break the silence so he does. He asks her if she is seeing someone else. If she is having an affair and that is why she is drinking the moon tea because surely if she was only taking her husband to bed then there wouldn’t be a need for such a horrid potion.

He knows she hasn’t been with anyone else. He has been keeping his eye on her but his questions have the desired effect. She denies them and rambles about how he is the only man she has ever been intimate with and throughout it all Daemon forces himself to remain silent.

Finally, he asks her why she would take the moon tea if her husband is the only one fucking her. It takes her a minute to find a proper response but he knows the truth. She doesn’t love him and doesn’t want his children. He remembers her saying as much to one of her companions after they wed but she won’t say that to him. Instead, she tries to get sympathy out of him and tells him how frightening it is to have children. How terrifying the idea of it all is and if Daemon were anyone else he probably would have believed her, but he doesn’t.

He stands, then and walks over to her slowly. He takes her in his arms gently and tells her that he will be there for her the entire time. That she will want for nothing and that he will care for her. Then, in the quietest and most gentle voice he can muster, Daemon asks her to give him a child. He asks her to bless their union with a babe of their own and after a few moments, she nods because he knows that she has heard the rumors about him. Knows that if he is already accusing her of cheating on him it is t good and if he were to do it again, she very well could end up forfeiting her life.

He makes her give the bottle of moon tea back to the maester herself and when she comes to bed for the night, he can’t help the victorious smile from spreading across his face as he takes her.

Aegon II Targaryen

Aegon isn’t the smartest or most observant but he pays attention to his wife. He loves her and until this very moment, where he’s holding the cup that is apparently filled with moon tea, he thought she loved him as well. Before they spoke their vows and became one in the sept she had told him how much she loved him and how she wanted a family with him. How it was all she ever wanted.

His wife is a liar and at that thought, he hurls the cup of tea toward her, letting it break against the wall next to his weeping wife. He can barely pay attention as she pleads and begs him to listen to her. She sobs about how she meant every word. How she loves him and does want to carry and give him children.

For once, he is at a loss for words. How his traitorous wife can still stand by what she previously said is beyond him. However, he’s going to hold her to her word this time. It doesn’t take him long to stride across the room and grab her roughly by the hair. He doesn’t care that she whimpers and cries as he shoves her onto the bed and forces himself inside her.

When he is finished and rolls off of her, he wonders if perhaps she was telling the truth. She could have only been afraid to be with child but she swore to him that she’d give him a child that was theirs and to him, that should outweigh her fears.

He lets her rest for a bit before he fucks her again. Usually, he would go slow with his dear wife but he’s angry and has a goal. He doesn’t register when the sun rises or the knock on the door. He sees the servant walk in with their morning tea and food to break their fast. He stills with a shudder and spills himself inside of his wife again and it’s only when he catches his breath that he tells the servant to take the tea away and that if he ever finds out that they are bringing his wife moon tea again, he will personally make sure that no one ever sees them again.

Aemond Targaryen

A maester comes to him and asks him if his wife will continue needing the moon tea he has been making for her. Aemond listens to the babbling fool as he tells him how he would ask his Lady Wife but can’t find her anywhere. She had even told him, he says once it’s clear that the prince won’t say anything, that Aemond was okay with her taking the tea. That they weren’t ready to be parents.

Aemond is furious. Not only because his wife is using him to lie but for drinking that poisonous tea. Mostly, though, he feels deceived. When he and his wife wed he believed that she shared the same sense of duty as he did. Clearly, she was lying to him because if she did she would have been heavy with his child by now. She wouldn’t lie to her Lord Husband in such a way.

Despite the many feelings raging within him, he refuses to show them. Especially to this maester. He prides himself on being smart and calculating so it would do him no good to explode or rage. Instead, he tells the maester, who was stupid enough to come to him, that his wife is no longer in need of his services. That she no longer wants the moon tea and that she will never want it again. There must be something in his voice that makes the other man nervous because he only bobs his head and skitters away.

Aemond doesn’t say anything to his dear wife that night as she rides him. His need to fill her with his child is more prevalent than it has ever been and when he grabs her around the waist and pounds into her until she’s a moaning mess he thinks, somewhat cruelly that she doesn’t deserve to know what he has done. That she will learn her lesson when she learns that she is carrying their child.

The next morning, Aemond watches as she drinks her morning tea which is brought by one of her favorite servants. He knows she thinks she is drinking the moon tea and he can’t stop his cock from hardening knowing that she thinks she’s the one deceiving him.

Jacaerys Velaryon

Jace is angry with himself when he finally realizes the reason why his beloved wife has yet to swell with his child. He has been called naive and gentle his whole life and for the first time, he truly feels naive. He thought it was just taking a while to conceive a child. His beloved had told him that sometimes it takes a while and he believed her.

He doesn’t let her see how upset he is. He doesn’t want her to see his anger or self-pity but something must change. So that night as she is undressing for their nightly lovemaking, Jace does what he does best. He asks her if she loves him. Her answer is quick and when she looks over at her husband she sees his frown that borders on being a pout and his wide eyes filled with hurt. He asks then, why she would take moon tea every time he has given her his seed. Does she not love him enough? Enough to bare him a child? Does she think he’d be a horrible father?

When he looks close to crying she comes to comfort him. She holds him against her naked body and he lets her as she whispers reassurances. ‘Of course, she loves him’ ‘she was scared to be with child’ ‘he would make an excellent father’. After a while of her whispered reassurances, Jace finally pulls back and tries his best to still look broken but hopeful as he asks her if this means she will stop taking the moon tea.

She hesitates at the question but Jace knows he has won. He knows by the end of the night that his seed will take root and she will feel too bad to drink the moon tea to be rid of the potential babe that will eventually start to grow inside of her.

His wife swallows and he doesn’t miss the way she won’t look him in the eye or the paleness that has come over her soft skin as she agrees to stop taking the moon tea. With her agreement, he smiles, truly, and kisses her. She looks relieved to see that he is no longer upset.

That night, Jace makes sure to spill his seed inside his wife as many times as he can before sleep takes him. Towards the end, she’s whimpering about being sore but Jace thinks it’s a small price to pay for lying to him about something so big.

[faeocs]

Born in 110 AC, Shiera Lannister was the eldest and loveliest of lord Jason Lannister and his wife lady Johanna Westerling's daughters.

Lord Jason had initially held high hopes of wedding his daughter to the eldest son of the King, and Queen, Prince Aegon targaryen, but it was not to be: instead, Queen Alicent proposed for a match between her second son, prince aemond targaryen, and lady shiera, an offer that was accepted by the reluctant Lord Jason.

Together Aemond and Shiera had three children, their son Aurion was a killed as act of revenge by Blood and Cheese. their daughter Vaella, was wed to King Aegon III, and her twin sister Raella to King Viserys II Targaryan.

"MY DEAR HUSBAND YOU KNOW BETTER THAN I THAT AMBITION RULES OUR FAMILIES. MY FATHER AND UNCLE'S, ALONG WITH YOUR MOTHER AND GRANDSIRE'S"

- Shiera to Aemond

"PERHAPS IN ANOTHER LIFE, ONE WITHOUT, ROARING LIONS, HOWLING WOLVES, AND FIRE-BREATHING DRAGONS, YOU AND I COULD'VE BEEN HAPPY TOGETHER, AEGON"

- Shiera to Aegon II

"I HEARD THE STARKS TO BE HONOURABLE MEN, IT APPEARS I WAS WRONG, AND YOU, MY LORD, ARE SIMPLY HERE TO SHED INNOGENT BLOOD. FOR I AM INNOCENT, AS ARE MY DAUGHTERS"

- Shiera to Cregan

In honour of season 2 trailer I give you all my baby Shiera of House Lannister. She serves cunt and does all of team greens PR 😊

tagging : @lemonhemlock for hose lannister supremacy also i had talked about my Lannister oc in their asks ( tho now I did some rebranding with names, fc and life plot )

Inspo: @hiddenqveendom

OG GIF CREDITS : @useyourtelescope @lady-arryn @georgeplantagenet

[ackerfics]

family line — a house of the dragon fanfiction | aegon ii targaryen x oc — masterlist

AESIRA TARGARYEN is not her father’s daughter.

He may have played a part in how she wailed in her first duet but she doesn’t crave bloodlust the way he did when he slayed the masked monsters that terrorised minds and cut off men’s cocks for their crimes. She’s sure that when the gods flipped her father’s coin, it never landed, still flying in the air — he was both a slayer of men and a natural doer of sins and debauchery; a figure so loved and so stigmatised by those who weren’t likened to the deities of the Old and the New. She doesn’t have the urge to swipe the throne from underneath the court’s eyes, doesn’t have the urge to soil and taint the innocence of her younger nephews — straying them from their birthright. Though named after a fairy tale warrior children revered so much, she steers clear of anything that her father ever touched. The way of the sword and warfare circulates her twin brother’s blood. Being the best dragonrider is her little brother’s dream, never hers. 

She is not her father’s daughter.

While the second prince who had nothing to inherit (but the cries of the people) wore their House with pride, she thought it was a burden to carry. She knows the gods knew on which side her coin landed but she tries hard enough to erase it. (Can she truly change her fate, though? When the whispers in between the red bricks haunt her so about how deep her parentage is?) Instead of wearing the blood red and the coal black of their colours, she chooses everything easy on the eyes; pastel demeanour and soft disposition — I am light and he is dark; I am separate from the blood running in my veins; I overcome him through thick and thin, as the novels and the sayings go — Light conquers Darkness whichever way you see it. 

She is not her father’s daughter.

Why would she be if he abandoned her and her siblings as he married the next innocent thing? Why would she consider him as her father when her twin brother cried about him never loving their mother one night when they were five name days old? Why should she be his daughter when he couldn’t even look her in the eye when the day required the family to be together?

She will never be her father’s daughter.

But she is in every way her mother’s. The lies flowing from her mind are all inherited from how her beautiful, lovely, caring mother crafted them as the woman stroked her slender fingers through the waves of her hair, “He will come back to us, darling sweetling; He loves you both so much and this little one I’m carrying as well.” Because of her mother, she can lie to save millions.

However, the anger she holds for her father makes her burst all of the edges of her being. She wants to stab him with her brother’s sword, make him hurt like the way she has been hurt when he gave them his back. Scream at him until he becomes deaf with how loud her thoughts are. The more she thinks about what could have been, the more she can see the coin the gods flipped at her birth. The madness of loneliness is truly the most pitiful thing. She’s surrounded by people who claim to love her but she longs for the family in her distant nightmares — the one that lights up a hearth in the cold of the longest winters in the lands, sharing blankets on the carpeted floor; one that rings laughter and padding feet on stone floors and expansive windows; one that has a father and a mother to cherish. She wants to burn down everything with her dragon’s flames so that everyone can feel the heavy, suffocating grips preventing her heart from breathing. She wants to claw her eyes out after hearing the remark that she has that lilac shade everyone keeps saying a certain prince holds, just as she carries the last name he is so proud of.

We are not the same. We are not the same. We are not the same. We are not the same—

And as she stares into the looking glass, all she can see is her father’s face.

There’s nowhere to hide from the truth.

AESIRA TARGARYEN is truly her father’s daughter — a piece of greatness and madness meshed into one.

AEGON TARGARYEN, the second of his name, is not the prince that was promised.

The weight of being the unnamed heir is too much for even the Skybearer to handle. He doesn’t want the moulded circlet of heavy stones simply because he knows he is the living embodiment of a disappointment — to his father who wistfully stares at the only piece his first wife left behind, to his mother who he stole a girlhood from, to his grandfather who had dreams bred out of greed and thirst for power, to everyone who dares glance at the king’s firstborn son with irises lined with disbelief. He doesn’t have to hear their words to know what they were thinking. This poor boy with wine for his blood and daring exhibitions for a daily schedule … is the most awaited son of The Peaceful King? The blasphemy is horrendous.

He is not the prince that was promised.

Because of how his father doted on his older sister even when the woman gave birth to two bastards and is pregnant with probably another one, he’s not the heir — Seven Hells, he’s not even the spare. A large part of him is whispering that it’s better this way. More time to inebriate and find himself in the places that he felt most comfortable with, where adventures welcome his insatiable need to discover. The thing about never being the apple of his father’s eye is that he can be free or as free as Mother and Grandfather allow him to be. It means he can marry for love (prays to the gods that he does; he can only think of one person anyway), and have spontaneous trips to the streets of King’s Landing with his closest friend — it means breathing through the littlest areas of his life. Yet a smaller (most likely better) part of himself dyes the roots of his static silver hair into the most melancholic shade of blue at the fact that it’s easy for Father to be this neglectful of his other children that don’t bear the name of his greatest delight. Everything he did, it was for Father. All of it to feel the sliver of pride he reserved in a waterfall for the loved child. 

He is not the prince that was promised.

It’s seen in the way Mother looks at him. He’s convinced she doesn’t love him. Mothers are supposed to love their children, people say; but not when you’re the reason why she has to accept the heaviness of reality. Her anger manifested the more he grew up. A single misstep is all it took for her to shout his name. All of the things he did (he tried learning a different language in the dead of the night, read the books recommended to him by the Septa, practised the sword until he perfected the right grip, tasted dirt in his mouth with how much he stumbled) but it will never be enough like his entire existence isn’t enough for her. And despite wishing she could love him more, he strayed even further to not feel the harsh sting of her rings, which resulted in Mother taking back the smallest amount of love she has for him.

He will never be the prince that was promised.

The first sip of alcohol, when he was a babe, cemented his dependency on his eleventh name day. The numbness, carefreeness, and the occurrence of fading into black that it brings is absolutely freeing. He’s the god of intoxication and the patron of exhilaration. Nobody can touch him.

Except for one.

His personal Maiden, the girl who sauntered in the Red Keep clutching her baby brother close to her chest, the beauty every beholder says is the image of salvation, the hands that he doesn’t mind cupping his face — the remembered princess of the realm. She is in every gasp of air he intakes; in the corners of the halls; in the whispers at the back of his head, urging him to look at her from the corner of his eyes as if she’s the secret the castle never tells; in the thoughts plaguing him; and in the dreams that paint different kinds of smiles on his lips. She always smells like the lemon candies her brother munches on, the pastels she wears are ingrained in his core memory; the books her hands have touched are extraordinary; the scrunch on her face, when she finds something borderline revolting in her walks across the castle, is beyond adorable; and the way her face lights up as she picks the next ugly insect that she will give to his own sister stuns him in place. Fuck him to the Sevel Hells and back, he’s consumed with her. It’s amazing how because of her, he is willing to change. Why consume all the cups in all the lands, when a single glance at her, he’s already under the influence of her existence? It’s a fact he only realised upon reaching a certain age.

One look at her and he sees himself being a better man and a better competitor for the throne.

She is a constant in his life.

AEGON TARGARYEN, the second of his name, is not the prince that was promised, oh, no.

But with his AESIRA by his side, it will be through his bloodline that this promised prince will breathe their first breath. 

And with all this chaos, there is you.

contents:

act zero: the prince and the siren

act one, chapter one: aesira and aether, aether and aesira

act one, chapter two: the red-bricked road

act one, chapter three: little boy gone

act one, chapter four: first, a dead wife; second, a dead mother

act one, chapter five: the birth of the golden

act one, chapter six: the queen of love and beauty

act one, chapter seven: ravens caw, dropping strings on smooth palms

act one, chapter eight: matters of the heart

act two, chapter one: the story has yet to be written ...

an aegon x oc story bc my love for what could have beens overpowered my need to enjoy my vacation <33

reply or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist !! mwa

[sunnytarg]

Aegon’s Pregnant Sister-wife (Aegon x targ!oc x Aemond)

Just thinking about Aegon’s pregnant sister-wife. Aegon shares her with Aemond and the babe is probably his brothers because every time he fucks her (which is nearly every night) he tells her how he’s going to fill her with his children.

So it’s not an uncommon occurrence as she gets further into her pregnancy for Aegon and Aemond to have her on her back

Aemond fucks deep into her because he loves to watch her full breasts bounce with every thrust. Aegon is there but he’s not even jerking off. He’s just latched onto his wife’s tits and milking them for all they’re worth. She’s cradling her husbands head and stroking his hair as he moans soft and suckles at her leaking tits.

Aemond looks down at the two of them and says something like “after you give birth to this babe don’t get too comfortable because I’m gonna fill you up again and again with more of my children. You’ll be walking around the red keep nice and round all the time and they’ll all think it’s my brothers child but really it’s mine because only a whore like you would spread her legs so much for me to breed her.”

He’d probably turn to Aegon after giving a particularly hard thrust that has his sister and Aegon’s wife moaning loudly. “What do you think Aegon. Should we keep her like this? Pregnant with a cock in her all the time?”

Aegon of course just nods because he doesn’t want to take his mouth off his wife’s milky tits. He’s more than okay with her always being pregnant because that means she’ll always be full of milk for him to drink.

[lady-morrigen]

bound by briar, ignited by flame

Allana Tyrell, the Rose of the Reach, daughter of Lord Loras Tyrell and Lady Melessa of House Ambrose

In a world of political ambition and forbidden love, Allana Tyrell is sent to King’s Landing with hopes that she will catch the eye of Prince Aemond and further strengthen the alliance between House Tyrell and the Hightowers of Old Town. While secure in her position as one of Princess Helaena’s ladies, Allana finds herself drawn to a different Targaryen prince. The wrong one. Chaos erupts when the ailing King Viserys dies, upending Allana’s well-laid plans, exposing clandestine schemes, and kicking off a conflict, pitting blood against blood in an all-out battle for the throne. As war rages and alliances form, Allana confronts loves long forgotten, her parents’ unwieldy expectations, and an impossible choice between love and duty. 

taglist | allana tyrell | allaegon | ask me about allana!

[hs-is-loml]

Love Looks Good On You. (a.t)

CHAPTER TWO

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Velaryon!OC

Summary: viserra wakes up to her grandparents informing her about her father so called "death".

Warnings: mentions of parent death, so a little angst.

a/n: little filler but that's okay it's just that xavier thorpe has been preoccupying my mind lately...

all translations of high valyrian come from google! english translations are in parentheses!!

masterlist - series masterlist

Unknowing to Viserra, in the middle of the night Laenor slipped out of the iron grip that she held on him. He fled Driftmark with Ser Qarl as soon as the sun rose.

"Viserra, Darling, wake up," Rhaenys shook Viserra gently causing the girl to stir in her sleep. "My darling, please."

"Yes, grandmother?" Viserra yawned as she rubbed her eyes. Once her vision cleared she noticed both her grandparents sitting in front of her with looks of dread written across their faces. Viserra's mind was led back to her conversation with her father last night. "No."

"Viserra, it's about your father," Corlys started.

"No. No, not him. Anyone but him," tears started to fill Viserra's eyes.

"Honey, I'm so sorry," Rhaenys pulled the girl into her embrace.

Viserra whimpered out, "How?"

Though Laenor warned her about this last night, she questioned what if they did get to him. Would she ever see her father again? Only a matter of time could tell now, but what was she supposed to do until then?

"He was found in the hall, charred in the fireplace," Corlys muttered as he wrapped his arms around his wife and granddaughter's sobbing figures.

"They did this," Viserra cried. "They killed him."

Corlys tried to reason with her, "Viserra, no one could have possibly known."

"No. They did this for their own selfish reasons because I was named heir. They mean to kill me next."

"We would never let anything happen to you," Rhaenys shushed her. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Viserra, come walk with me," Alicent said as she passed Viserra and Aegon in the corridor.

"Yes, Your Grace," Viserra pecked a now sad-looking Aegon on the cheek and promised him to catch up after the walk.

"I heard about your father. You have my deepest condolences, I could never imagine such loss at your age," Alicent spoke out as they both walked out on the shore near to the water. Viserra felt that her words weren't only about losing Laenor, but more about what happened with her mother.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Viserra responded.

"No more titles, Viserra. You are to marry my son soon it is only right if you call me Alicent," The Queen smiled warmly at her. "Now recalling to it, I never had the chance to properly thank you."

"What for?"

"For what you did for Aemond. He told me how you rushed to try and save him. You were not even involved in their petty arguments, but you still went to defend Aemond. Even getting hurt in the process, that is something I will never be able to repay you for," Alicent admitted to Viserra.

"But I failed?" Viserra questioned in regret believing if she was a second faster in her movements Aemond's eye could have been saved.

Alicent stopped in her tracks and pulled Viserra by her wrist into a hug. It had been so long to feel a motherly embrace that wasn't Rhaenys that Viserra practically melted in Alicent's arms.

"It does not matter whether you failed or not, my dear. It is the fact that was your first instinct of what to do. From the moment Aemond told me that, I knew I can always be able to trust you to do what is best for them," Alicent explained to her. "They are stubborn, my boys."

"I would do it all again if it meant your sons would be safe," Viserra claimed.

"Oh, my darling girl, you do not know how thankful I am for you being in their lives. Aegon absolutely loves you with his very being, and Aemond looks up to you," Alicent told her. "It was torture for Aegon when Rhaenyra moved your family to Dragonstone."

Viserra tensed in her arms after Alicent said the word family. She broke away from Alicent with a small smile.

"That boy is full of complaints," Viserra laughed. "The letters he would send me were just filled with him telling me how bored he was."

"Sounds like Aegon," Alicent breathed out a small laugh.

"Okay, we will visit you in a few moons, so do not grow up too much yet," Rhaenys smiled at Viserra tucking a loose piece of her hair behind her ear.

"We are always a raven away if you ever need us for anything," Corlys reminded Viserra as he pulled her into a hug. "I mean it, Viserra. Anything."

"Yes, Grandfather, I know," Viserra laughed.

"Corlys, quick smothering the girl or she might not even make it back to King's Landing at this rate," Rhaenys joked.

"Oh, hush, you two," Corlys shushed them.

"Be careful when you are riding Silverwing back, always be-" Rhaenys started.

"Loud and clear, I know," Viserra gave a small bittersweet smile remembering the way Laenor would always remind her about being loud and clear with her commands before riding Silverwing.

"I will never understand how you two do not get sick from flying that high in the air," Corlys gave a small shiver as he thought about dragon back.

"I will never understand how you are willing to wait that long on a ship to get to places," Viserra countered.

"Oh my-" Corlys sighed. "Viserra, you tell me if that Aegon boy is causing you any trouble alright?"

"Yes, of course," she replied. "That's only if I don't get to him first."

"That's my girl," Corlys smiled.

"Okay, be safe out there, and we love you," Rhaenys told the girl.

[emilykaldwen]

I had the absolute honor and pleasure of commissioning @winterofherdiscontent for this piece of Prince Aegon Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong from my fic, The Maiden and the Drowning Boy. Right from the start, I knew I wanted to try comission her for a piece. Their art style is haunting and imbued with that fairy tale glimmer that's absolutely my favorite thing and I was fortunate to snag one of their spots! Right from the start, we clicked on the vision of what this piece would be like, really leaning into that dark medieval fairy tale vibes that I'm building in the fic itself.

The piece is just as dreamy, just as longing as I wanted it, with these two walking through the gardens of King's Landing just how I imagined. It was truly a pleasure and an honor and I'm so freaking excited to share this with everyone!!!

[crescenthoax]

“Please. Make me forget. It's over. I know it’s over. It's over. But I no longer know who I am.”

“(…) You speak of survival, yet what you truly desire is victory. You cloak this delicate ego of yours beneath the guise of a yearning for peace. At what cost, Annika? What kind of victory is it the one who begets more adversaries and puts further walls between you and the world?”

i’m never gonna love (again) – chapter xxxiv

[starogeorgina]

𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲

Paring: Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen OC

Warnings: Swearing, character death

1.02

You struggle to breathe normally from crying so much, so you clasp your hand over your mouth to try and help regain control. All the repressed emotions that had been building for years came bubbling out when you and your father got into a heated argument. He was upset that Rhaenyra had suddenly fled to Dragonstone and blamed it on you for giving your older sister the silent treatment, insisting you go fly to her immediately and apologize.

It caused deep pain in your chest, knowing he didn’t care about your side of things. He didn’t even care to ask.

“The decision has been made; you will go to Dragonstone and apologize,” your father says, waving you off dismissively before returning his attention to his sculpture of Old Valyria. “I think it might be good for you to go and stay on Dragonstone for some time.”

“Why? As a punishment?”

“No, my child, it’s so you and Rhaenyra can be there for each other.”

“I don’t want to leave the house; it’s my home.”

“It wouldn’t be forever.”

Red blotches appear across your neck and chest as your body shakes with rage. It felt as if you were being banished for a crime you didn’t commit, and something inside you snapped. “It’s not my fault; none of it is. Not Rhaenyra was leaving, and neither was my mother or brother dying.”

“What?” Your father still makes his movements but keeps his back to you. “Ivory, what did you just say?”

“You were so obsessed with having a son that you forced my mother to get pregnant again and again until she finally died giving birth, and you have spent every day since resenting me for it.”

“That’s simply not true.”

Your eyes gloss over. “You wanted a son, and Baelon died. Leaving you with me.”

“I suggest you go to your chambers and rest before you leave.”

“I’m not going to Dragonstone!” Your father finally turns back around to face you, and the expression on his face is one of disinterest, which angers you further. You had spent years craving his and Rhaenyra’s approval, and now you felt nothing but a fool, a silly girl who thought she needed to remain quiet to keep everyone else happy, but in the heat of the moment, you no longer felt that way. “You remarried Alicent so you could have an heir, and she’s given you three sons and a daughter. Another four children that you don’t even acknowledge!”

Your father shoots you a glare; it was obvious you had struck a nerve. “Ivory, hold your tongue! Remember, I am not only your father; I am also your king.”

“The only child you love is Rhaenyra, and we all know it.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn to leave his bedchamber and come face-to-face with Alicent, who looked speechless. You closed your eyes and waited for her to scold you, but she never does; instead, she holds your hand.

Seeing the worried look on his wife’s face, your father stands. “Alicent, what is wrong?”

“I’m afraid I have some dreadful news for your grace,” she says. “It’s regarding Ser Lyonel and Ser Harwin Strong.”

—

You twiddle with the green and gold ribbons that go down the center of your pale gold dress. It was a beautiful gift from your stepmother, but you couldn’t wear it yet. You focus on the design of the fabric and how it reminds you of dragon scales; it was a good distraction from the last memory you have of your late husband plaguing your mind.

Smiling, you pull your riding gloves off with your teeth as you make your way out of the dragon pit, listening intently as Aegon talked about his lessons in sword fighting. Your conversation comes to an abrupt halt when Ser Harwin appears at the doorway.

He bows his head, but before he has a chance to say anything, Aegon sharply asks, “What do you want?”

“I simply wish to speak to my wife, my prince.”

Aegon turns to you to gauge what your intentions are. Once you nod your head, silently telling him it was okay, he looks between you and Harwin, shooting a death stare at the knight. He says, “Fine, but she can’t stay long. We are expected to have tea with my mother, the queen, shortly.”

Harwin nods his head. “Of course, my prince, I won’t take much of the princess' time.”

When Aegon is out of earshot, Harwin faces you, and the amusement on his face is clear. “I’m glad that your brother is so protective of you.”

“What do you wish to speak to me about?”

He straightens his posture and says, “I am leaving tonight with my father to return to Harrenhal, and I just wanted to say goodbye as it may be some time before I return.”

Feeling your eyes become glossy, you stare at the ground and ask, “Have you said goodbye to Rhaenyra?”

“No, I didn’t think that would be appropriate.”

Heaviness weighs down on your chest. You doubted he was being truthful; you fully expected him and Rhaenyra to say a tearful farewell, but your feelings of concern for the children were stronger than your anger towards them. You clear your throat. “I hope you speak to Jacaerys and Lucerys before you go; they deserve a proper goodbye.”

Harwin’s expression is hard to read as he leans forward, kisses your forehead, and whispers, “I truly am sorry.”

When you remain silent, Harwin bows his head slightly and goes to leave. A horrid feeling twists in your gut; you don’t quit explaining it, but you feel as if it’s a final goodbye. You step forward and ask, “When do you intend to return?”

He gives you a soft smile and says, “Whenever you ask me to, princess.”

You jump when approaching footsteps pull you from your thoughts. You spin around, hand clapped to your chest, the feeling of your heart beating fast pressing against your palm. “Ser Criston, I had no idea you were behind me.”

“Forgive me for startling you, princess,” the knight says. “The queen has asked that I accompany you to the docks.”

Knowing that it was time to leave, you reached for the shawl, lying across your bed, and draped it across your shoulders before leaving your chambers. Many a lord and lady offered you their condolences as you made your way outside as the news of Harwin and his father, the kings hand burning to death made its way around court. In the back of your mind, you wondered how Jace and Luke were coping. No matter how much you hated Rhaenyra for hurting you, you could never hate your nephews.

—

Noticing you rolling your eyes at his comments, Aegon scoffs, “I’m just saying, I hate the color black.”

Not only were you dressed appropriately to mourn Harwin, you were all wearing black as you made your way to Driftmark for the funeral of your uncle's late wife, Lady Laena Velaryon, who had died during childbirth.

“You hate most things.”

Aegon pouts, “I do not.”

You tap your finger along a thick rope that was attached to the side of the boat, trying to think of something smart to say back, but your mind draws blank. “What’s something you love, then?”

“I enjoy drinking and beautiful women.”

Smiling, you shake your head, turning to face the choppy waves. “You’re ridiculous.”

Aegon’s nose crinkles as irritation spreads across his features. He looks up at the sky, watching as your dragons fly side by side. “Sunfyre.”

You smile; the dragon keepers had already spoken about how strong the bond between Sunfyre and Aegon was, especially since the golden dragon never hatched in the crib and they had only bonded a few years prior. “There is no denying that, lēkia.”

You stand together in a comfortable silence, watching as the scenery around you changes, until your destination comes into view and your heart drops. The thought of seeing Rhaenyra again so soon after Harwin’s death made you feel sick.

Aegon stretches his arms out and yawns, but his attention changes to something behind you. He clears his throat and says, “Father.”

You turn to see your father standing on the other side of you with a smile on his face, which was surprising since this was the first time you had spoken following the argument in his bedchamber. “Have you thought anymore about what we discussed?”

Before you can answer, Ghost, the beautiful white dragon you're bonded with, swoops down low and lets out a loud screeching noise, startling everyone on the boat. “No, your grace, I haven’t.”

—

As the funeral ends and the wake for Lady Laena begins, Aegon rudely interrupts the conversation you’re having with the ladies from the house, Darklyn and Baratheon. He grabs you by the hand and pulls you behind him, further away from the crowd and behind some large rocks, so you're out of sight. “What are you doing?” You frown. “That was incredibly ill-mannered; the queen will be furious.”

“What does Father want you to think about?”

You toyed with loose threads on the sleeve of your dress; you felt too embarrassed to tell him the truth. “It doesn’t matter.”

Aegon scoffs, “Fine; perhaps I’ll go ask him myself.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you are obviously fucking upset!” Aegon stumbles backwards into one of the rocks. He had been drinking since you got off the boat; it was actually astonishing that he wasn’t sliding his words by now. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s humiliating, that’s why.” A sinking realization hits you suddenly, and tears glisten in your eyes. “Father no longer wants me around; he wants to ship me off to Dragonstone.”

“I will speak to my mother tonight; you cannot go and live with her; to even suggest it is an insult,” he says, shaking his head. “The king is neither blind nor stupid; he’s in denial and would rather believe my mother is a fool over Rhaenyra being a whore.”

“Aegon!”

“What she is! She slept with your husband and had his bastard children.”

“I know.” The black thread you’ve been pulling on finally snaps. “But—”

You freeze when you hear a snapping sound behind you. Aegon stares at you with his mouth slightly agape. Someone just heard everything he said.

Brother - Lēkia

[sunnyhvnny]

I’m posting this request on this blog to see if it shows up in the tags because everything I’ve been posting on @sunnytarg hasn’t been appearing in the tags.

Jacaerys Velaryon

When the war broke out and Jace was sent to Winterfell by his mother to draw the Stark’s support to their side, he wasn’t expecting to fall in love with Cregan Stark’s younger sister.

He had gone to Winterfell on business alone and was more than aware that he was betrothed but it had all seemed irrelevant when he met the younger Stark. He had only been in the freezing castle of Winterfell for two days before an affair started. When it was time for him to leave, he begged his lover to come with him and be his bride. She had only smiled at him sadly and gave him one last kiss before she declined and wished him fair well.

It was the last time that he saw her. After they had won the war, and his mother sat on the throne, he received no news of Cregan Stark’s sister. Eventually, he let go of his foolish dream of being with the northern woman and marrying his betrothed. His marriage to Baela was a union filled with respect and love that grew over time. He was grateful to be married to such a woman and eventually found that he didn’t think about his lost love as much as he once did.

That was, of course, until his mother announced that Cregan Stark and his family would be coming to King’s Landing to celebrate the five years of peace after the war. Jace’s mind had not calmed until he was standing outside of the Red Keep, alongside his mother, to greet his old friend. He watched as several carriages rolled along. Cregan emerged from the first one, holding out a hand for his Lady wife to step out. After her foot hit the ground, several of the children that must have been Cregan’s started to pile out of the carriage. The youngest looking to be no more than two years. He greeted his friend and his wife, as well as their children when the second carriage finally stopped.

This time a large, burly man stepped out of the carriage and held his hand out the same way Cregan had done for his wife. Jace took in everything about the other man and when he saw a crest with a bear on his chest, he knew this was Lord Mormont. Before he could question why Lord Mormont was here when his mother specifically said that it was the Starks that was coming, a woman that he hadn’t seen in years stepped out of the carriage. She was still as beautiful as when he met her only this time, she cradled her swollen stomach as she helped her two sons out of the carriage. Jace swallowed his disappointment, hoping that she had remained unwed. He smiled and politely greeted Lord Mormont. When, the now, Lady Mormont appeared before him with her sons he knew his smile turned softer and the way he took her hand and kissed it was much too familiar. She smiled politely back but turned away at the soonest possible second. Knowing he’d be unable to demand her attention as they all entered the castle, he looked at her sons. Both with unruly hair and giant smiles. They looked close to the same age but he could tell that the one with the slightly more puggish nose was older, perhaps five years of age.

As the days pass, he barely sees the woman who his mind rarely strays from. He chats with Cregan and plays with his friend’s children. He gets to know Lord Mormont and can’t tell if it’s better or worse that he seems to be a good man. It’s only at the feast and when he goes to the training yard that he sees Lady Mormont. She watches her sons play with wooden swords and swat at passing Queens Guards with a soft smile. When her eldest manages to trip one up she chuckles and Jace decides to leave her in peace, knowing he’d only ruin the moment for her.

The day before they are meant to leave is the day that she finally speaks to him. Well, it’s not so much as to him but as to everyone that is standing around. She had run into the throne room frantically telling everyone how she couldn’t find her eldest. How she had planned on putting them to sleep but only found her youngest. She had searched everywhere she could think of before she decided he was missing and thought it best to inform her family and the Queen.

No one wasted any time trying to find the young boy. Jace found himself outside, looking in the small hiding places in the training yard he used to hide in when he was a child. When that wielded no results his eyes snagged on the dragon pit and his heart sank. What little boy wouldn’t want to see dragons before he left? He remembered the boy chattering on at the feast about how he made his mother read almost every book on dragons that they had to him.

Jace had never moved so quickly before and found himself at the dragon pit in record time. He couldn’t find any of the dragon handlers but he refused to turn away in case the young boy was down by the dragons. He called his name and got no response.

With dread creeping up his throat, he made his way further into the caverns where the dragons resided. He Vermax and gave him a pat on the snout before continuing further. He stopped when he finally saw the young boy. Jace said a quick thank you to all of the gods that he could think of when he saw that he was alive and standing and not a pile of ashes on the ground. He strode over to him quickly but stopped short when he saw him climb atop a young dragon named Valaxon. She was approximately the size of a fully grown horse but Jace had seen her with the other dragons and with the handlers. She was a rough dragon, which came as no surprise because she came from a clutch of Moondancer’s eggs.

When he saw that the young dragon wasn’t planning on eating the northern boy, Jace stopped and stared. The dragon practically preened under the boy's attention and for the first time since the Starks and Mormonts arrived, Jace truly took in the boy. He remembered thinking how he must have been no more than five years of age, at first he brushed that little thought off and thought that his old love had moved on from him quickly after he left. His age and the fact that he clearly bonded with a dragon were proof enough for Jace now. He tried not to let the boy see the tears in his eyes as he approached him. He couldn’t very well explain to a child that his mother must have known that she was with child when he left and chose not to tell him of the life that they had created.

He tried not to think of the years he missed with his child and his old lover when the boy beamed at him from atop a dragon.

Aegon II Targaryen

When it was announced that The Lady of House Wylde would be joining her husband in King’s Landing after they had won the war, Aegon had thought little of it. He knew only a little of Master of Laws personal life. He knew that he had four wives at some point and that one remained. He also was aware that he had sided over twenty children with said wives. He had no idea how many he had with the current Lady of House Wylde but he hoped it wasn’t many. He didn’t want several children running about the Red Keep.

The Lady and five young children arrive a few days later. As the King, he goes to greet his Master of Laws wife and the Lady of House Wylde when her carriage stops. After her children pile out of the carriage, she finally steps out. Aegon is taken aback by the noblewoman. She’s stunning, much too beautiful for Jasper Wylde. When he goes to greet him, she curtsies before him and he notices her red cheeks when she raises her head. Only when he meets her eyes does he remember his small tour of the Stormlands as a prince and his dalliance with the Lady of the Rain House. She was young, as was he, and already married to Lord Wylde with a son and daughter. Every night he had been there, they snuck away and enjoyed each other.

When it was time to move on with the tour and away from House Wylde, he hadn’t thought about his brief dalliance afterward. After all, he had slept with many women. Whores and noblewomen alike and on his tour of the realm she most certainly was not the only Lady he had fucked.

The trance she is in, and the stare she had focused on the king was broken when her children broke into a little scuffle over who was to greet the king first. She mumbled her apologies as her husband lined up his children and introduced them to him in order of age. Aegon fleetingly remembered the eldest two, but they had grown so much in the few short years that he had difficulty placing their names without help. The third was born sometime after he had visited them and his Master of Laws said that it only seemed right to name his third child and second son after the future king. Little Aegon could barely meet his eyes as he bowed and mumbled a greeting. Unlike the other children who took heavily after their father, he resembled his mother.

When the greetings were over, Lord Wylde had told Aegon that he would see his wife and children to their chambers and then he would meet him at the small council. Aegon had nodded noncommittally as he watched the Wylde brood walk off, his eyes lingering on the Lady and the third child. The timing lined up well enough, but if that child was his, he had no clue. There was no resemblance and the Lady had given no indication that he was his. Aegon supposed it didn’t matter much, he had many bastards wandering throughout the city and most likely the Realm. If he was honest, many of the children that ran about the Red Keep could possibly be his bastards so he saw no reason why he would think anything of this Wylde child potentially being another.

The presence of Lady Wylde and her children hadn’t made much of a wave throughout the Red Keep. She had befriended many Ladies of the Court, and his sister-wife, Helaena had taken to the Lady quickly; they were inseparable as were their children. Her two eldest children quickly became friends with his daughter and were often seen running about together. The three youngest were always with their mother, who in turn tended to be with Helaena and his youngest son, Maelor. Aegon had tried not to let his gaze linger on the beautiful Lady. It wouldn’t do well to fuck the Master of Laws wife, but the more she was around the more he remembered their brief dalliance. He remembered fucking her roughly in dark hallways and covering her mouth to hide her gorgeous moans. At night, he let his mind wander to those nights they shared and he often found himself fisting his cock at the remembrance of her wet cunt and the way it squeezed him.

His mother’s words had painted a certain picture so when he finally entered the nursery to see Helaena, Lady Wylde, a crying Maelor and Lady Wylde’s third child, little Aegon as Lord Wylde called him, holding a vividly green dragon hatchling with the cracked egg on the ground, he was surprised, to say the least. Aegon realized what happened immediately. The egg that was placed in little Maelor’s crib in hopes that the dragon inside would bond with him had finally hatched and instead bonded with Lady Wylde’s son. It doesn’t take long for Aegon to come to the conclusion that the children must truly be his because without Targaryen blood the child never would have been able to bond with a dragon.

His sudden laughter filled the room and startled everyone. Of all his bastards, never had one claimed a dragon. He looked over at his ex-mistress and saw the horrified look on her face at what this all meant. Perhaps she had only the smallest inkling that her child could have been his, after all the little boy didn’t resemble him in any way. This news would spread fast and her husband would be bound to find out sooner rather than later. He clamped his hand on the small boy's shoulder and congratulated him, the boy only nodded as the small dragon climbed up his arm and settled on his other shoulder, chirping happily. Aegon looked over at Lady Wylde and smiled charmingly before saying, “I’ll talk to your husband. There is no need to worry.”

The Lady visibly swallowed and whispered a thank you before Aegon led the smaller Aegon out of the room, intending to bring him to the dragon pit. It wouldn’t be hard to convince Lord Wylde to let the little boy stay in King’s Landing after this. Perhaps he could sway him into letting the Lady remain with her son. His sly smile overcame his face at the thought of resuming his affair with the woman as their child learned about bonding with a dragon.

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond knew that when he took Harrenhal it was his right to take any of the women to his bed as a prize. Truthfully, he had considered it but then his eyes landed on her. While some of the women looked at him with disgust or fear for taking their home, she looked at him with her nose turned upward and a hard look in her eyes that drew him towards her. What he had with her for those few weeks probably wouldn’t have been considered an affair. He spent his meals with her and found time every day to talk or walk with her and despite the fact that he aches for her, he didn’t take her to his bed until a week before he left to go back to King’s Landing.

He hadn’t forgotten her in the years that passed. When he married the youngest Baratheon daughter for an alliance, he thought of the woman at Harrenhal. When he bedded his new wife, he pictured another woman beneath him and the way she moaned as he had taken her. How she wrapped her legs around his waist and how she stroked his scar. His wife hadn’t done any of that. She lay underneath him and refused to look at him. He saw the same slight disgust in her eyes when it came to his scar. She didn’t cling to him and he fucked her and when he spilled inside of her she hadn’t whispered how she hoped his seed would take root in her womb, but instead rolled off the bed and pulled on her nightgown and left.

As the years passed, Aemond got used to his loveless marriage. His wife had never grown to love him and he never grew to love her but he loved the children that his loveless marriage wielded. He spent the most time with them, their mother often found herself spending time with the women in court or going to her place of birth. She barely glanced at her silver-haired children after they were old enough to be away from her.

In the quiet moments in his life, he often found his mind wandering to Harrenhal and the woman he had grown to love within those walls. He missed how he could laugh freely with her and how she looked at him, truly looked at him, and didn’t see the prince who rode the largest dragon or the scarred and disfigured kinslayer but only saw him, Aemond Targaryen. He would often get hard at the thought of her in their last moments together. Most of the time he would close his eyes and fist his cock and imagine it was her that was doing it but there were times that it wasn’t enough, and those were the nights that he found his wife in her chambers. They didn’t speak as he rutted into her and he wondered if she thought of someone else as he did. Usually, these moments would result in a babe down the line. He currently had seven children from his Baratheon wife. His eldest was seven years of age, born just before the war ended. He was a quiet boy who preferred the company of his dragon. His second eldest was a little girl, only a year younger than her brother, she was always in the dirt looking for insects for her beloved aunt.

He was lost in his thoughts about his children when his brother made a small announcement. His wife nudged his side and he blinked back to reality and looked at his brother, his king (he thought with disgust if it wasn’t for him that crown wouldn’t be on his head), as he told the few family members at the table that new knights were being brought to the Red Keep to join the Kingsguard. Aemond made no acknowledgment until his daughter of five years tugged on his arm excitedly and began talking nonstop about what her elder sister told her about knights. He listened, his entire attention on her, as his wife conversed with his mother.

Aemond went with his mother and princess Jaehaera to examine the potential knights for the Kingsguard. When it was one man’s turn, Aemond looked him over intensely. He could have sworn that he had heard the House that he belonged to before but he couldn’t place it. He also looked familiar but Aemond was sure that he had never met the man before in his life. Eventually, he was one of the knights chosen to join the Kingsguard and on top of that, he was sworn to his sister, Queen Helaena.

As he strode down the corridors of the Red Keep, planning on going to his chambers, he saw his daughter running at full speed. He thought that she was running to him and he opened his arms wide for her to jump into but instead she ducked under him and crashed into a girl he had never seen. The young girls were giggling on the floor when a woman came around the corner, the other girl's mother probably. It wasn’t until the children were standing up that she turned her gaze to Aemond. He felt frozen to the spot when their eyes met. It was her. The woman from all those years ago. The woman who proved he could be loved. She smiled fondly at him and without saying a word she turned and the two girls followed after her.

When he was back in his chambers he let his mind wander to her and the little girl that must have been hers. The child looked so much like her and she looked at the child so fondly that no one would miss the maternal nature of it. The little girl was probably a little older than his eldest and was clearly friends with his eldest daughter.

It clicked then. The knight from earlier must have been her brother. He remembered her talking about a brother who was off fighting for the greens during the war and had aspirations of becoming a knight. Perhaps she was visiting him in the capital.

He decided he would find out the next day. He would invite her to tea with him in the gardens and ‘catch up’. He wanted to ask why she never sent word after he left, he wanted to ask about her daughter and if she had a husband. He wanted to know everything about her.

The next day, he joined his mother and sister for tea in the gardens. They always asked him to join and he rarely took them up on the offer but today she was with them and he had no idea how he could say no. She smiled at him as he sat with them and rarely took her eyes off of him as the time passed. He asked her about her daughter, who he learned was only a little older than his eldest son. He asked about her husband. The question made her pause and look down into her cup. Her smile dropped slowly as she said he was a good man and provided for their little family. After that he questioned her no more on her family.

Instead, he mentioned how it seemed that his children, Jaehaera, and her daughter seemed as thick as thieves. All the women giggled at that and it was Helaena who told him that the girls went to the dragon pit. They were insistent on showing their new friend their dragons. As if the girls heard their parents talking about them, several dragons appeared in the sky. He saw Morghul, Xurmag, and Dallas in the sky. Clearly being ridden by the young princess but following them was a bigger dragon. He squinted up and saw that it was Silverwing, who was unclaimed since the war. When the dragons descended in front of the adults, the girls scrambled off with shrieks of laughter.

When Silverwing landed it was the daughter of his ex love that climb off. She looked frazzled but excited. He felt his mothers and sisters gaze on him as he watched the young girl walk over to her mother. He finally looked up at the woman who was already staring at him. The truth didn’t need to be spoken aloud. They all knew it. Perhaps, though, with this new information he could persuade her to stay in King’s Landing, or better, he could take his children and their dragons and they could go to Harrenhal. Where it all started.

Daemon Targaryen

Many of the dragon riders thought little of the dragon handlers. Daemon, while he looked down upon many, he didn’t look down on the man who took care of his beloved dragon. No one else was suited for the job but this specific dragon handler so he became close with him and his family. Meeting his wife and two children. His son had already married some commoner and was training to be a dragon handler himself when Daemon first came around.

His daughter on the other hand was a different matter entirely. She was gorgeous and fierce, and if Daemon hadn’t met her parents already he would have thought she was born from a dragon. It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall together. The first time he had taken her had been in the cavern in which Caraxes was held. Her father had been away and their desire for each other had reached a boiling point. Quickly he turned her around and shoved her against the wall and slipped his cock inside of her. Neither cared that a dragon was only a few feet away, all they cared about was each other at that moment.

Their brief tryst had stopped abruptly when his brother exiled him after the death of the Queen and his son. He should have seen it coming, truthfully, but it still hurt all the same. He had tried to convince his lover to come with him into exile but she refused to leave her father behind. Daemon had been close to just tossing her onto Caraxes and flying off but he couldn’t drag her down with him, so he left without saying goodbye.

When he returned from the Step Stones four years later he had hoped to see her again but he hadn’t. For the brief time he was at the dragon pit he had asked after her and all the information he received was that she married a kind and strong man whilst he was away. Daemon refused to let jealousy fester inside of him as he took off again. This time to Pentos.

Several years had passed since he had last seen her. Enough time for him to not think about her and at times forget about her. They had good times, he wasn’t denying that, but they had both married since then, and in his case, he’d been widowed twice and remarried again. When he finally came back to King’s Landing, it had been close to fourteen years since he last saw her. He tried to act nonchalant as he slid off of his dragon and let her father and several other dragon handlers deal with Caraxes.

He watches the dragon handlers for a moment before he decides to go and talk with his old lover. Still as beautiful as the day he had met her, he think with a smile. As he takes a step towards her, though, he hears a shout from what sounds like a little girl. He’s ready to ignore it but she snaps her head in the direction of the dragon pit with worry in her eyes. It’s not until she hears giggling that her face relaxes.

Daemon finally makes his way over to her. She stiffens at his close proximity but doesn’t move away. He hadn’t thought about what he wanted to say to her, he only knew he wanted to be close to her one last time. Finally, he asks who the screaming had come from and reluctantly she told him it was her daughter. When she came to visit her father at the dragon pit, her daughter often liked to join them.

“Isn’t that rather dangerous,” Daemon mussed as Caraxes was finally corralled into the pit. When he looked back at his ex-lover he waited for a reply but only found a sly smirk on her face instead.

Only a few moments after he had asked his question, a girl barely a teenager came out of the entrance of the pit on the back of a blood-red dragon. It wasn’t fully grown but it definitely wasn’t a baby. She rode it like a horse as she waved down at her mother. From the looks of it, it wasn’t her first time being atop this dragon.

Daemon watched in awe as his old lover's daughter took flight on a dragon. He supposed that he could have left her with child before he left but other than the brief fleeting thought, he hadn’t thought much of it. Now, though, seeing what clearly must have been his daughter soaring through the skies on a dragon that resembled Meleys, he couldn’t deny that not only did he have a daughter with his old lover, but a dragon rider as well.

[emkald-fic]

Bright Star | One Shot | Aegon II Targaryen x OC

Summary: The king dies and their dream begins. Rating: Mature edging on Explicit (hehee) Warnings: 18+, Smut, Exhibitionism Word Count: 1384

Notes: A fluffy-ish one shot of Aegon and Abrogail escaping successfully from King's Landing the night the king dies. Not directly related to my other works, but features my original character, Abrogail Strong.

thank you to my beloved @acrossthesestars for the amazing banner and helping with fleshing out some of the spice! <3 and many sweet thanks to @spoolofblack for their kindness! thank you Brigid for your sweet words. I so appreciate you!

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications.

There are different ways the dream goes.

There's one where Abrogail is five and ten, walking into the sept with a silver dress embroidered in golden dragons, where the Queen watches in approval as their hands are wound with ribbon. The one where Prince Aegon smiles brighter than the sun as he wraps his cloak around her,  cups her face in his hands and kisses her breath away. They long to run from the storm, as it tears at the towers of the Red Keep with flame and water. They are not the same, in the end, with too much loss and too much suffering, where the only peace is found in the quiet of their kisses and the warmth of their bed. With children who they vow will be born into everlasting peace. 

The last of the dragons.

There's another one, where the four of them are miserable and anxious.She exchanges hushed vows with the second son, her eyes darting towards his. There is no cheering or fanfare - just a plan concocted by a dreamer and clever children to keep their clutch together as the storm draws closer. It is the first son she lays with on her wedding night to seal the deal, whispering their own vows amidst soft sighs and cries of need. Things don't turn out so bad in this dream, but it still isn't perfect.

Pentos is not a dream.

It is vision made flesh with sweat and tears and frantic nerves. They are both dead and alive; they died the night the king did, they were born flying into the sunrise. They were born come the dawn on the sands of Essos amidst a victorious dragon shriek and relieved laughter. Where exhaustion and adrenaline gave way to something sacred in the surf that ‘yes, yes we made it we've made it, is breá liom tú mo réalta geal…’

‘I love you, my bright star.’

This is the one where they are surrounded by strangers, where only a handful know their truth. This is the one where Abrogail is wrapped in shimmering gold and white, with star flowers in her copper curls and a smile so bright as to rival the sun. This is the one where Aegon is dark haired and more relaxed, calmer than he'd ever been in his whole life, where he nearly takes her at the feet of the magistrate, so explosive is his joy. 

Their joy.

They are a powerful pair: his Lady Hypatia doubles their holdings within a year, courting friendly partnerships and trade routes. A shrewd businesswoman who is patron to those who spin song and secrets, who helps the poor, who first and foremost, protects what is hers.

Lord Argos blossoms like a desert flower without the noose of green and black around his throat. Like a dragon free from the pit, he grows without constraint. Jovial and decadent, gluttonous still, the clever boy emerges into a calculating man; perhaps who he was always meant to be had he only been allowed.

She is shy to admit how much she adores him spoiling her. How he wraps her in moth-wing dresses that skim her skin and leave nothing to the imagination. He orders them by the dozens, in every color imaginable, and watches her with eyes black with lust and desire as she wanders around their home. They are only for his eyes, and when the furrows deepen between her brows, he pulls her into him. She shivers and whines in his arms as he tilts her head back to deny her kisses, but the fabric always rips as he bunches it up to skim his fingers beneath.

"These are just for me," he murmurs, keeping his mouth just out of reach, his smirk growing at her trembling pout as his fingers find the slick along her thighs. "Would hate to kill another merchant for thinking he could have what's mine." Before, when the furthest he could claim her was gazes across a feast table, the lewd way he’d lick honey from figs and she’d pop ripe, wet berries in her mouth, the rumors and court gossip heating his blood as hot as what would pool beneath someone who dared touch her. Here, there's a way for his fire to burn without bringing everything down around them.

She is his. She's his little doll; he dresses her up and spins her around and there is no doubt in all of Pentos, and surely as far as Lys or even Volantis, that while the wine merchant cares for decadence and revelry, it is his little wife that he cares for most of all. There is no doubt Lady Hypatia only has eyes for him.

It is by his blessing they can see her, but never, ever touch.

The orgies Lord Argos throws every few moon turns are the exclusive invites. It isn't just wine and food and decadence. It's deal making, and who is in the inner circle. His lack of desire to become the next Prince of Pentos is all that keeps the target off Aegon's Argos' back.

They are the envy of all who gaze upon them - too beautiful by far, with cherubic cheeks and large eyes. Pouty smiles and sweet laughter. In the haze of patchouli and vanilla and spice, amid the dripping candle glow, bodies writhe amidst laughter and song.

It is here, on a pillowed dais, he spreads his little wife down for all to see. Here he pulls the gossamer cloth from her body and shows how good she looks when she's crying for him. How beautiful she is when tears coat her cheeks from denial, from her need as she begs her husband to fill her with his cock, until her thighs are coated with her slick and his spend. It is here he gives in, unable to deny her even a moment longer, licking a stripe between her pert breasts, growling up against her throat with gnashing teeth. And it is here that he wedges a knee between her thighs, spreading them open to accommodate him. And finally, it is where he splits her apart around him, swallowing the twisting cry of his name that falls from her mouth.

He looks like a god above her, the candle glow turning his skin as golden as the dragon torque fastened around her neck. Aegon’s black eyed stare as he stakes his claim, the smirk, the groans from him as he finally sinks into her, sends her writhing beneath him, needy and begging. It is only his need to exhibit himself, to see the deviance around him that spurs him to take her on this altar, otherwise no one would witness such rapture, something so exquisite and sacred. This is what he tells himself as he fucks her, as he drives himself forward and buries himself within her, her back arching, her face open to all who would look upon them. He tells himself again as she clenches around his length, as her nails rake down his back, as she sheds the skin she wore in another place, another time.

It's better to paint her with his seed than fuck her in a still warm pool of blood. Less complicated. 

The first time he guides her down upon the dais, his mouth rubs softly against her, soothing her nervous fingers that clutch into his tunic. “Look at me, only me... keep your eyes on me.” She'll forever get lost in his eyes - her deepest blue and his lilac pink melting together like the sunset sky. Her delicate hands grab at him frantically. As eager as he is to stake his claim, she is just as desperate. Nails drag harshly over his shoulders and arms, the angry red lines dotted with blood. And then her mouth finds the juncture of his shoulder and she bites down - the lion in her blood urging her to claim her mate with teeth and growls.

There is more in this dream that's become real. A little boy with his father's eyes and his mother's hair and a name with no mantle of conqueror or expectation. There is laughter, and song, and it could never last forever. But when the storm finally comes, this time?

This time they're ready for it.

[scaly-freaks]

the god of wine and rainbow lamps

There is no jester without a king, and there is no king without his jester.

But when the lines blur, the jester finds herself trapped in the growing obsession of a man an entire kingdom bends the knee to.

Read It On AO3

[snowprincesa1]

Aegon’s Christine (2/2)

Fannon!Aegon ii Targaryen x F!singer!Reader

{phantom of the opera Inspired AU}

Summary: Aegon’s pleased over the fact that Christine will be visiting the red keep and is performing for the ball but things between them start getting strained .

Warnings‼️obsessive/toxic relationship, mean Aegon, nsfw, kidnapping, nsfw ‼️

Taglist: @heavenly1927

Lots of love and thanks to my beautiful bestfriend @luckytoucan for beta reading 🥹🥹🥹

Aegon’s master plan had worked. He had convinced the Queen Rhaenyra to bring a young singing prodigy from the streets of silk as a performer for all the nobility. His mother was rather surprised but suspicious at his sudden growth of knowledge in the arts of music as well.

He could already imagine you as a bard, you would sing and play for him and only him. He would make sure of it, and then for the nights he would spend them in your company as well. You were his now, day and night. He watched intently from his bedchamber’s window as you reached the red keep dressed in white just as the first time he saw you, that night. Unfortunately for him he had underestimated how much of your voice would be spent on others who were not him. Rhaenyra shared Aegon’s new interest in music, often making you sing for the children. You had to teach them as well, singing to the young Viserys and young Aegon. You didn’t mind, it was quite refreshing to have to sing to adorable blonde haired babies. You were employed as a nanny as well. Helaena often sat to listen to you as well. Aegon sadly had to watch from the corner, too afraid you would find out he was the phantom if he were to approach you so he watched from afar, sipping from his cups. He would rather not have that, he didn’t want to let you get to know the real him.

“You’ve been staring a lot at that one” Aemond said sitting beside his brother “have you sunk your claws in her yet brother?”

His hands clenched his hands in anger, his nails pressing into the soft of his palms. Was he that obvious? If Aemond had figured out so had his mother.

“Does mother doubt anything?”

“If you keep being so obvious she just might” Aemond warned.

And worst of all, you could barely speak or let alone sing at night with him. Your voice was strained and it needed rest. Many a meeting with him were taken lightly, with you simply telling him it was late and you required sleep. You shunned Aegon aside and worst of all he didn’t see any remorse in you. His blood boiled. Aegon began to fall back into his old habits, drinking, gambling and spending the nights with whores. All the while to prevent thoughts of you from popping into his head.

Truthfully speaking, you were tired of the identity he hid with so much ferocity, he would swat your creeping hand away if you even attempted to take off his hood, let alone his mask. There was no real progression in this relationship, and now you had work. You wanted to see his face but you were denied. Was it always going to be like this forever? Being in love with someone who you do not even know the name of. The real name. You knew it would end someday, something Aegon had not once considered since the day he met you all those years ago. And you finally decided to let him loose.

Truthfully you missed him more and more with each passing day, your nights were strangely empty without him. You missed his annoying remarks and his little snides he would throw at you. You missed his praise for when you sang. You wondered if he would even come to the ball where you would perform. It had been 2 weeks and he had completely stopped coming around. He promised that he would. Would he show?

You forced yourself to move on, you cursed your past self for agreeing to sing for the strange man, the phantom, a fleeting ghost which only appeared at night. Your singing had opened up new opportunities for you. You would simply have to focus on them and move on. Aegon on the other hand tried hard to be sober, it didn’t help to hear you sing in the red keep. You were where you were because of him.

You should be grateful to him and all he’s done for you. But you shut him out and eventually stopped making time for him. He was beyond enraged. Often leaving the room if you entered. He couldn’t bear to hear your voice. He should have been happy for you but he just couldn’t. Not when you were not with him. He wanted you but he didn’t want to show his true identity, he was far too high in station to bring a common woman as a wife. He reasoned.

You knew the prince Aegon didn’t like your presence, you did your best to avoid him at every corner. You would stop singing when he entered the gardens. Quite frankly speaking you’ve heard of the prince being a lustrous man who would anger easily. A man who spent his days in a lazy slump drinking and eating away. Something about him felt odd, like you knew him.

“My lady, I must offer you a piece of advice” prince Aemond said smirking “stay away from my brother Aegon, he finds your appearance quite hideous and your voice vexing to the ear.” It was a clear taunt, and you absolutely hated aemond now as well.

Your suspicions were confirmed and you made it a point to stay clear of the gloomy prince. You felt anger grow from within. He amongst all the princes was the least popular for his lack of charisma and charm, he had no notable talents, he was bad with the sword as he was with diplomacy. Did he even have an ounce of passion in his soul? His words struck a nerve. You stopped being quiet around him after, singing to annoy the prince. You noticed he disliked a particular love song and you sang it on repeat around him. The song was ‘all I ask of you’ every time you sang it for his sister Helaena he would mutter some curses under his breath and leave the room.

You would half heartedly curtsy to him and this all did not go unnoticed by the prince, your sudden defiance. Perhaps it was best that he had let you go. He thought.

He groaned when he thought of your performance that would take centre stage. He cursed himself for being kind to you. He saw you practising in the gardens, twirling around with a sash. Somewhere deep within he just wanted to end the separation, kiss you and come clean of who he truly was. But he didn’t, he went against what he wanted and kept his ego high.

The night of the performance you were nervous standing behind the door waiting for the sign to let you in. Your hands trembled and your breath grew shallow. Thoughts of doubt and insecurity entered your mind all at once. You wondered if the phantom was there, if he came for you. You were a mess right before a performance.

Prince Aegon strolled past the room you were in, he had no business in that part of the castle but yet he found himself walking curious to see how you were holding up. He saw you clasping your hands together to stop them from trembling, my, you looked gorgeous in the gown you wore, a bright red and orange gown most probably designed in Dorne. You hadn’t noticed Aegon. “Nervous?” He choked out. The words slipping before he even had a chance to stop them.

“Always” you smiled nervously. He walked up to you bottle in hand. His hands clasped your gloved one

“What are you doing?” You asked confused

“A gift..” he said with no other emotion showing. He pushed an emerald ring up your finger “for courage”

“Thankyou” you muttered “I’ll return it to you after I-”

“Christine, it’s your turn” a handmaiden said. You turned around to look at the prince “thankyou..again for this” you said showing the ring.

“Go, don’t disappoint the Targaryens”

You stared at him bewildered..that line it was so familiar. Something the phantom once said to you. Aegon wasn’t the phantom. He couldn’t be, the phantom was funny, the phantom was oddly sweet and kind. The phantom kissed you the sweetest—

Aegon stood quietly. So much left unsaid.

He watched from backstage as you performed, singing a song you had practiced a thousand times. It was perfection. You were perfection. He smiled watching your distant figure move the lords and ladies.

There was a dance where you were allowed to participate despite being low-born. Aegon watched from atop on the Targaryen’s high table as you danced with lords. He didn’t care. He did as promised and visited you before your performance. He’s fulfilled his promise. It’s over now. He cursed himself for giving up his ring though if he was really being honest he was meaning to give it to you for a while.

“My prince” you said approaching the table “I want to return this..” you said quietly

“Why..?” He simply asked shocked. He felt as though his advances were being rejected. He knew it, everyone disliked him after all..the worst of the late king viserys’ children. He simply held onto the ring rolling it in between his fingers as he watched you be swept away by a lord asking you to dance. You didn’t hear him coming to you already too busy trying to keep your distance from the preening lord attempting to barge on your personal space. You laughed nervously, the lord was clearly interested in you. He wasn’t a big lord, but one of a rather well doing house. Marrying him would set you for life. The lord told you of how you had enchanted him with your sweet angelic voice, like it was a calling from the heavens. The lord attempted to lead you to the gardens.

“She’s not going anywhere.” prince Aegon said glaring at the man, barely handsome, barely rich. Was this the man you would let dance with you? He scoffed to himself.

“My prince I believe that is for our sweet lady to decide” the man said with a forced smile as he bowed politely almost to make up for his words.

‘Our sweet lady?’ Aegon chuckled ‘what a fool, she belongs to me and only me’

“It would take me a mere second to decide if I want your head served to me on a silver platter, talk to me again out of turn and you will see how I deliver my promises” Aegon spat out.

A hand grasps your shoulder from behind pulling you to him. His hands travelling to your waist almost too familiarly. The prince Aegon with a furious look in his eyes his face wore a scowl and his eyebrows scrunched together

“And who are you?” He asked the lord

“My name is Raoul of house Chagny”

“Never heard, a minor house?” Aegon scoffed

A look of horror showed on your face. Was phantom..the prince Aegon? It would make sense the way he spoke, the way he scoffed and insulted others. He didn’t even make any effort to hide his voice from you. Did he think you were slow?

“Lord Raoul, we were dancing” she says cutting him off before he could say anymore. She curtsied to the prince and let him dance with her. This time around her gaze never left Aegon’s. I know who you are. You thought. Why couldn’t you just tell me? Why hide? You loathe me now? You think my voice vexing? Me hideous? You thought as the lord twirled you around.

It was clear the phantom or rather Aegon was enraged at the sight. His hands tightly gripping around his chalice, his knuckles turning white. He watched as the man spun you around. Your eyes never actually meeting Raoul’s but instead Aegon’s.

And Raoul took notice “have no fear my lady for I am here” he said.

‘I’m not scared’ you thought before sending him a polite smile. Before your eyes strayed away to the prince. His violet eyes and strewn silver hair. That would explain the hood..

What if it’s not him? Risk offending the prince who already dislikes you ? That’s getting your head on a spike. You shuddered at the thought. You started to feel dizzy with all the realisations of the night. You had to know. To end this already overdue confrontation but Aegon had disappeared from the hall and wasn’t seen for the rest of the night.

When you made your way back to your house down the streets of kingslanding you saw a familiar figure who was the exact size of prince Aegon. The moment you longed for..to talk with him after so long. You were in no mood to beat around the bush

“Tell me who you are” you said calmly

“No.” He said shortly

“Then I bid you good night ser”

“Did you enjoy it? Prancing around with some man?” He chuckled but from his demeanour you knew. He was not happy

“Yes, I did. Do you want to know why?” You asked baiting him to ask you why you felt this way

“And why is that, my dear?” He chuckled his hand covering the lower part of his face as though forcing himself to calm down.

“Because Raoul is a good man” you said

“Raoul Raoul Raoul you don’t know the man!” He yelled

“I know not of you as well” you sharply retorted

The silence resumed between the two of you.

“And what of Raoul? Do you plan to keep him in the dark? Have you told him what you really are?” He asked in an incomprehensibly quiet tone.

You could feel an insult brewing you knew it was coming. “Did you tell him how you spent your nights with me? Unbecoming of a lady..you should keep no secrets as well. Tell him the whole of it! Go! Go now. I’m sure he’d let you in his bed if you try hard enough. Perhaps if you play the cards right you may see a ring on your finger soon enough.” He spat out with a crazed expression. His anger coursing through his veins

“You should tell him what kind of a little whore you were before becoming his wife. He will find out someday or another” he said taking a step towards her.

“What are you saying?” You asked “you would tell on our night together to Raoul?”

“It’s only fair! Since you want no secrets” he laughed. “But then I suppose he wouldn’t make you his wife but keep you as a mistress.”

“You seem to misunderstand..if by God’s grace a man like Raoul asks for my hand. I will leave you behind, I will forget about you completely and thoughts of you that linger in my mind will disappear. I would not want or need you.”

“A whore like you would never forget”

You slapped him hard. Across the face. His mask falls broken to the floor on impact. He grasped at his hood to cover his face. “I cannot play this silly game with you any longer. I have to move on and think what is best for myself. And it is not you” you said pushing him away. He grasped your shoulder pulling you to him. His hand made it’s way up to your next tilting your face to the side, his warm breath which smelt of sweet wine breathed down your ear when he whispered.

“You would be nothing without me” he said in a last desperate attempt to hurt you. You took his hand off of you. His fingers almost instantly reaching to attempt to clasp onto yours but you didn’t let him. Your head hurt. Your body hurt. Your heart hurt.

“Go back to your life you need not come here to show your masked face and cloaked self” you said sighing holding your forehead possibly hiding the tears forming from him. His eyes wide blown shown in the moonlight. Violet. You knew it. For that moment his hidden identity was thrown away in his shock. This was the end. No no. He would not let that be.

There was nothing more to say. He said his piece and you said yours. Perhaps you should have been harsher your mind raced. Perhaps you were too harsh. No no. It wasn’t you who was in the wrong. He was upset and it was he who threw the first insult. It was over, the brief love story between the both of you. Two years of your life down the drain. You felt tears finally fill your eyes. You wanted to truly know him. Know who he is under the mask. Now you know from your own theories who he really was. You weren’t happy. You felt miserable. All the fantasies of how he would one day pull down his mask for you was shattered. You let out broken sobs. How could you have been so stupid? Let yourself love someone like him?

And you slammed the door on him. Shutting him out.

And unknown to you Aegon wasn’t planning on letting you go any time soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lord Raoul began to charm you often barging in the red keep making excuses to talk to you. Raoul was serious about marrying you, a bit too serious. Hell you hadn’t even thought about whether you would actually get to accepting his proposal but you could see the wheels in his head turn with thoughts of marriage with every word he spoke “they say a woman is fulfilled in marriage” “i hope my children get my hair” he said pulling back his long brunette hair.

If you were truly being honest Raoul was controlling. He wanted everything his way. He did as he pleased and that made you dislike him. He’d drag you for walks in the garden where he would try to impress you with talks of history of Westeros and how the Targaryens came into power. All that Aegon had done in a much more laid back and calm manner for the fun of it. The phantom had his flaws but he never hid them, he talked about them and tried to work on them. The phantom thought the start of your friendship was forced the eventual relationship bloomed out of nights spent together, drinking, talking and laying in bed simply soaking up each other’s presence. The phantom knew what you liked, what you disliked and made efforts to impress you every chance he got. His sarcastic brutally vulgar comments were the thing that made you realise how much you loved him.

Raoul was not the phantom or rather Aegon..

Raoul only ever took you for walks gripping your hand as if it were the last rope on a sinking ship. You should be grateful a lord like him wants to marry you but your eyes kept wandering back to the blonde haired man who was stretched a distance apart from you. The man was awfully calm, unnervingly so. That even king Daemon took notice of the rather composed cold look of his.

“Is she still roaming with that lord?” Aemond inquired with his brother standing at the doorway of his bedchamber.

“She is” Aegon said with a slight look of disdain twisting the blade in his hand.

“I thought I would come here to your room being in ruin” aemond admitted “now that she has left you for another” ah, how aemond knew how to piss off his older brother. But for some reason it didn’t work this time around..

“I can’t bring my bride to my bedchambers when it’s in ruin Aemond”

Aemond was dumbstruck “a bride..? You haven’t been courting anyone and now you’ve chosen a bride?” He asked narrowing his one hood eye on his brother.

Aegon simply smirked playing with his dagger and that’s when aemond realised what he intended to do.

“Mother won’t like this” he warned Aegon..as he watched his brother press the sharp of the blade against his thumb drawing blood.

Aegon simply smirked.

the burning determination in Aegon’s purple eyes surprised aemond. He always noticed how Aegon’s eyes showed life whenever when it came to you. How his eyes lit up whether he was ranting about you in your separation or simply looking at you from afar. He wanted to see his brother happy somewhere deep down, he knew if Aegon was married to anyone else he would make his new wife miserable and in turn his mother and by that extension annoy Aemond and so aemond became a little accomplice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhaenyra was a big fan of luxury and splendour. It wouldn’t be long until she holds another lavish ball for the nobility. Aegon just had to wait. How much longer could he wait? He felt the time passing by every moment he could have made use of by making you his. Aemond encouraged him to be patient and he tried. Stupid Raoul was already ready to drop on his knee and propose to you according to the spies he sent after you and Raoul. You hadn’t made any moves on Raoul. Of course you wouldn’t! You loved him. It satisfied him how he was the only one with whom you could share stolen kisses with. He was more than confident you would take him back over some stupid lord Raoul of what house again…?

“Raoul where are you taking me?” You asked as he pulled on your arm.

“Just follow me” he said hurriedly “I can wait any longer..I can wait no more for you”

“Raoul..?” You asked confused “Raoul stop this!”

“I cannot I cannot stop loving you” what in the seven hells. the line alone should have made you soften up but all you felt was annoyance. Raoul said dropping on his one knee.

“Marry me. That’s all I ask of you” he said holding your hands in his. Your mind went blank. There would be no returning after this. The point of no return. Your heart beat quickly you hadn’t answered yet. He was awaiting an answer. Why were you waiting for Aegon. He wouldn’t show. He wouldn’t come. He wouldn’t come to steal you away.

“Are you there?” Raoul asked squeezing your hands bringing you back to reality. You had to choose what was right. You couldn’t miss on this chance. Yet your heart told you to wait. Your mind spewed hate at your neediness for Aegon.

“Iet me think this through Raoul..?”

“No more talk of darkness

Forget these wide-eyed fears

I'm here, nothing can harm you

My words will warm and calm you~”

“I need to think Raoul please don’t sing” his voice was grating as you held your head feeling the forming headache

“Let me be your freedom

Let daylight dry your tears

I'm here, with you, beside you

To guard you and to guide you

Say you love me—”

“Raoul please I need to think”

But you didn’t love him. Marriages didn’t need love. It’s okay you were justified so what. Who were you waiting for? The phantom wasn’t going to come for you. Aegon wasn’t going to come to save you like a prince in shining armour.

“No I won’t— no I refuse to marry you” the words stuck in your throat instead you whispered out a quiet..

“Yes, I’ll marry you” you said like you’d rehearsed all throughout your childhood in dreams of marrying for love. But your tone was grim. This was what you were supposed to want. But you didn’t want it. You didn’t want him.

Tears streamed down your cheeks if only Raoul could see that they were not tears of happiness. You would never sing again and you had no energy to sing anymore. Raoul slipped the silver band around your finger. The ring far too tight on your finger.

“I knew you would make the right choice” he said proudly placing a chaste kiss on your lips cupping your face. “Your family will be quite pleased with a lord like me for a son-in-law” he said. Your mind went numb and you couldn’t help but feel like you had betrayed yourself in some sort of way.

“I must say from now onwards you cannot sing at events or functions” he said tapping your cheek.

“Atleast let me sing one last time at the masquerade before I finally leave this life behind me” you said sighing

“No, you may not. You already have enough eyes on you as is. You may sing in our new home and only to our children” he said pulling you in a suffocating hug.

“You could still sing in our new home” he said. “Can you not make a single sacrifice for me?” He asked his grip on your hands tight.

“Just once please. One last time” you begged your fiancé. “I’ll never sing again after”

Raoul contemplated hard. And finally reluctantly agreed. You felt as though your life was changing for the worse and Raoul felt like a king to have the woman he so wanted. How disconnected was he? To not see simple dissatisfaction on your face. The word spread wide that you were to be Raoul’s wife and the last time you would be up on stage would be at Jace and Baela’s wedding party.

The wedding party was in the next two days. You and Raoul kept your engagement secret from the others. You wanted to stall as much as you could but you couldn’t quite figure out why Raoul suggested to keep it secret in the first place. You wore a beautiful red gown gifted by Aegon..you still remember his words.

“This would look good on you for one of your performances” he said acting casual but you noticed how he waited for you to tell him you loved the gift. He always observed you keenly to see if you actually liked the gift or not. He had a surprisingly good taste for clothing.

“You don’t even like the colour red!” You laughed.

“I cannot pull off red the way you do, my dear”

He said returning your smile with an embarrassed smile showing through his half masked face.

Raoul had drunk A LOT. The night of the ball when you were about to go on stage to sing one last time he gripped your hand with so much pressure it felt as though it would snap in half “I forbid you” he slurred “if you move from this seat, I promise you I’ll make you regret it” Raoul said his hand still wrapped around your wrist. Disappointed was a word that didn’t describe what you felt. You felt truly heartbroken and alone in that moment. You wanted to scream at Raoul, you wanted to cry your eyes out, you wanted to scream at Aegon as well for everything. Aegon-phantom-Aegon. Your mind travelled to ideas of what ifs which just wasn’t possible.

“if you just told me who you really were that night, what would have happened?” You wondered out loud quietly. Raoul sent you a confused stare “what?”

“No, no I’m sorry it’s nothing” you said quickly. Raoul didn’t bother later on.

“Are you to forbid me from dancing as well?” You asked looking at your fiancé who was chugging wine down his throat

“As long as it’s not with Aegon. I do not care” he said “I may dance with other ladies myself” he said “after all we are keeping this engagement a secret we can’t have people knowing the truth” he said sighing getting up from his seat walking towards a group of gentlemen. Men preferred the company of other men, it shouldn’t be surprising. You sat there at the table playing with the knife in your hand as you waited for the night to end. Raoul didn’t spare you a glance laughing with his men. Suddenly a fight broke out amongst the party guests. It was common for fights to break out at noble weddings.. it didn’t help the fact that a rampage was formed. The guards immediately went to escort the Targaryens away to safety. Suddenly a hand held tightly over your mouth dragging you away from the rushing crowd. Raoul saw this and called out for you but he was far away and couldn’t make it in time. You already knew who it was, only one person who would be crazy enough to pull off a stunt like this.

“Miss me my dear?” He chuckled dragging your resisting body to God know where. His strength was other worldly with him lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. Talking you down a stairway to the darkest parts of the red keep.

you asked struggling in his arms. Aegon was in no mood of speaking. His mind set on one goal. ‘Marry you and claim you his forever and ever’

his arms tightened around you to keep you still as he descended down the black cells dimly lit .

“You went ahead and decided to marry that stupid cunt Raoul?” He said. The name Raoul permanently scarred Aegon’s mind. “What is it that made you accept his proposal? You would throw away what we had for a man you’ve known two weeks” he barked “you really thought I wouldn’t find out you agreed to marry the man?” He laughed at the nerve you had. Leaving him for a man who didn’t deserve you.

“BETROTHED!” A Voice called out from behind Aegon. Whatever vulnerability that showed from the man dissipated in a blink of an eye. His jealous rage was back. He was losing you to a man who didn’t deserve you but deep down he felt as though he didn’t deserve you either and he took it out in the form of RAGE.

“Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest” the phantom whispered in your ear.

Raoul stilled in fear and shock on seeing his betrothed in another’s arms

“This is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come. And now, my wish comes true. You have truly made my night!” Aegon laughed his hold on you still ever so tight. As though in fear you would run towards the new man, your fiancé. He wouldn’t forgive you for this slight.

“Free her! Do what you like, only free her! Have you no pity?” Raoul yelled from afar. Attempting to walk closer to the masked man and you.

“Your lover makes a passionate plea...” Aegon said clearly upset with the obvious affection he beared for you. Aegon’s passion for you showed no end but the fact that Raoul had the nerve to rival his own..

“Please, Raoul. it's useless!” You pleaded for your fiancé to leave while he could.

“I love her! Does that mean nothing?I love her! Show some compassion!” Raoul yelled from across the room attempting to sway the phantom.

“My lord, I bid you welcome. Did you think that I would harm her? Why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours?” He said in the darkness of the black cells the sound of his voice echoing of the walls.

Aemond wraps his arm around Raoul’s neck choking him and bringing him to his knees as he pressed his dagger firmly to your fiancé’s neck, if Raoul moved he would slice his neck. Raoul was in tears.

“Start a new life with me. Buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death!This is the choice, this is the point of no return!” The phantom ordered his tone was stern and full of authority. You could not weasel your way out of this.

‘Say you love him and my life is over...’ Aegon thought as he waited for you to make your choice. Please. Please. Choose him. Tell him Raoul was a mistake.

“No point in fighting. For either way you choose you cannot win.” Aegon said letting you go as he waited for you to make your choice.

“So do you end your days with me, or do you send him to his grave?” He asked seriously, Aemond’s one eye glanced towards the two of you in curiosity.

“Why make her lie to you to save me?” Raoul choked out.

‘Lie? Lie! Raoul’s word rang in his head. His audacity!you loved him, you loved Aegon. his eyes looked to yours and it was clear the answer he wanted. You would marry him. Love him. Be his. But it was for Raoul’s safety. Aegon’s eyes trailed to Raoul who was on his knees at the doorstep of death.

You walked to the phantom. Your hands reached to hold his masked face and you could feel how he instantly melted at your familiar touch.

“Pitiful creature of darkness, What kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you,

You are not alone...”

You said before pressing your lips, he tilted his head to better deepen the kiss. The feeling of your mouth on his. You were his one true love, the only one he would ever go mad for.

How could he trap you like a bird? And keep you in a marriage you had no choice in. Like his mother? Would you share the same fate as his mother then? He was not Viserys but he was his son after all, the thought of you unhappy with him made his insides churn. He wanted you happy more than anything and if it was with him..he would let you go. You loved Raoul, didn’t you? Why did he have to lose you? He cursed himself once more.

He pressed another small kiss on your cheek and then your forehead. His arms wrapped around you thinking..

You had forgotten about Raoul and Aemond. It felt as though it was only Aegon and you in the room. Aegon slowly separated the two of you. Brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Take her, forget me, forget all of this. Leave me alone, forget all you've seen.” He says to Raoul, he couldn’t make you go through marriage with him something you didn’t want. He loved you. Loved you so much it hurt to not be around you.

He looked to you once more “I love you, I have only ever loved you” whispering the words as his hands let go of your face.

Go now! Go now, and leave me!”

Aemond looked at his brother utterly confused. The plan..? He reluctantly let go off Raoul, the man fell to the ground his legs numb.

You hadn’t moved a single inch. You didn’t want to.

“You love me?” You asked

“Go, go now before I regret letting you go, my dear”

Raoul gathered his strength standing on his feet rushing to you pulling you away from the phantom. Raoul was your light….not this man before you.

Raoul grabbed your hand pulling you up the stairs in haste “who was that? You had lovers?” He asked infuriated.

You pulled your hand away from his. “Raoul” you said pulling off your silver wedding band. Putting it in his hands and closing them “you deserve someone who loves you. Not me!” you sighed

Raoul stood stunned “are we cancelling our betrothal? Our plans! Think of our plans!”

“Your plans, Raoul” you said shaking your head.

“Do you love him? That man” he asked disgusted

“With all my heart and with the entirety of my soul” you smiled. Raoul nauseated with your answer walked out of the door “this is your last chance, come with me and I shall forget this” he said sternly.

“Go Raoul” you said one last time and the man walked out of the hall.

You gasped as you felt a person walk past you. Aemond. His one eye scanning you. Aemond simply walked past you. He had work to do after all, he had to take care of lord Raoul now that he had seen far too much.

You walked down the stairs deep into the dark cells.

Aegon was plopped on the floor he raised his head to the sound of footsteps. Clearly confused by your appearance now..? His hood was off and his white wavy hair was tousled on his head. His mask still clung to his face.

“If you love me as you say you do. Show me. Show me all of you” you demanded descending down the stairs.

He stood quickly in anticipation “you came back” he stated surprised. “You came for me?” He asked. “What of Raoul?” He asked bitterly.

“Raoul is not you. He’ll never measure to you” you said softly. Aegon felt as though he was hallucinating you.

You stood a few feet apart from him. “You chose me” he said walking closer to you.

“I love you. I have loved you without ever truly knowing how you look. I have loved you when you have kept so much from me. Why do you think telling me the whole of it will make me love you any less?” You asked the man before you.

Aegon stood silently contemplating your words he approached you on the as you stood slightly above him. He reached for your hands placing them on his mask as he looked at you as though you were his only light “take it off” he said.

Your hands trembled as you pulled off the white mask showing his face “handsome, such a handsome man” you said tearing up as you fingers grazed his pale cheeks.

You bent over placing a kiss on his lips, a gentle one and Aegon slipped his hand around your legs pulling you towards him as he pushed the two of you on the ground kissing you. He no longer held your eyes shut or blind folded you. He let himself trust.

He pressed intense kisses to your lips as he his hands slipped off your dress “you wore the dress I gifted you, you little vixen” he smirked

“did you wear it for me? You knew who I was, didn’t you? My dear” he said pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin of your neck.

“I’ve wanted this for so long” you admitted holding his face lovingly “my phantom”.

“How long, my dear? Tell me?”

He asked as he pulled off the top of your gown leaving little red marks across your neck and over your heaving chest.

“For so long”

you said breathlessly as he continued to move his hand over your exposed top half squeezing your tits in his hand making you let out a sharp gasp.

He grabs onto your leg wrapping it around his waist as he let you feel his hardened length against your heated core. Your hips rolled over grinding begging for friction but he held your hips

“Fuck” he groaned holding onto your hips steadying your movements. He pressed you against the staircase where his fingers quickly found its way to your entrance. “So wet already?” He smirked as his index and middle finger circled smeared the wetness around your entrance

“I can’t— don’t tease me” you begged and he complied quickly his fingers roughly making its way in your tight cunt. You were a moaning mess under Aegon as his he spread his fingers inside the spongy walls of your cunt getting you prepared to take his cock. Your mind melting and the only words were ‘more’ ‘please’ and little ‘I need you’s. His thumb circled your clit as his tongue licked stripes on your breasts and hard nipples begging for his attention. His warm mouth finally engulfing a nipple as his fingers moved at an unpredictable pace. Moving faster as you were just about to cum and then abruptly stopping. And again building up your orgasm just to pull away at last minute.

“Please please” you begged in tears. The only tears of yours he ever liked

“What my dear?” He asked releasing your swollen breasts from his mouth with a sinful wet sound.

“Let me come please” you whined as your eyes rolled back once more almost coming at the pressure his fingers thrusted into you with. “Right there” you writhed holding his hand tightly so he wouldn’t pull his fingers out last second.

“You only had to ask” he smiles smugly his pupils wide blown with lust. He was playing with you. His thumb rubbed tight circles to your poor little numb and you came. Hard. Panting as you tried to regain your breath you had lost in your intense orgasm. You knew you Aegon wasn’t done. The both of you wanted more.

“Now look what you’ve done” he tutted looking at the wet mess you made all over his breaches and over your inner thighs.

“Don’t tease me any longer. Please” you begged your feet tugging at his pants as you eyed him with eyes clouded with lust. He adjusted your legs around him. Pulling down his breaches revealing his thick and hard length. The tip already leaking with pearly white pre cum. He pushed up your gown further up spreading your legs apart to look at your slick mess of your cunt as he stroked himself his fist closing over his hardened cock. “Fuck. I do not think I can wait any longer” he said letting out a moan.

“Then don’t” you moaned at the sight of him fisting himself. You pulled him to you as he grabbed your backside tilting your hips just for him. “Are you sure you can take me, my dear?” He teased before you could even say something snarky in response he thrusted his entire length into your tiny hole. You let out a shrill cry as you held onto him for dear life. His eyes never left your face. His lips found themselves kissing your body as he thrusted slowly letting you get used to his thick length. He pulled out leaving in just the tip before slamming the whole of it inside. He pulled a leg of yours over his shoulder as he pressed himself farther inside you making you see stars. The black cells filled with the both of yours filthy moans.

Your hands pulled at his hair as your rolled your hips to better accommodate him. He panted as he kissed you. His tongue roughly pushing into your mouth as he explored every crevice of your mouth as though it was his first time.

“You are so beautiful” he said in a half groan. His face scrunched up with pleasure. “You’re mine now. Only mine” he said as he thrusted into you. His hands travelled to your waist. “Ser—” you begged feeling hun hit that one spot so deliciously.

“Aegon. Call me Aegon, my dear” he said in a frantic hurry as he kissed you with an urgent need. Your mouth fell open as you came once more your legs giving out as your legs trembled around Aegon. He wasn’t done. He rubbed at your clit once more “one more give me one more” he begged.

“I— I can’t” you said clearly overstimulated.

“Come on sweet girl” he pleaded “come with me” he begged as he let out a raspy moan. “I know you can” his pleading voice could make you come once more by itself. His cock thrusting in and out of you and his thumb pressing your sensitive bud. It was too much. Aegon’s tongue pressing open mouthed kisses to your neck as he said the filthiest of lines. Aegon’s thrusts grew faster as his grip on your waist increased as he fucked you senseless. You swore you came right there, your fluids gushing out of you as you screamed Aegon’s name.

He cursed as he came at the sound of your voice calling out his name. His muscles tensing as he spilled his hot seed in your cunt.

He let out a shaky breath as he lay on top of you. Smothering you with his weight.

He panted pulling himself out of you resting his head onto your chest as your hands found themselves playing with his hair. Seconds of peace and silence between the two of you.

“I’ve been a fool. A fool for not telling you how I felt earlier. A fool for saying the things that I have said to you” he said holding the hand that caressed his hair.

“I should have done things differently. I should have come clean” he said pulling himself away. You didn’t let him pulling him back to you. “I am sorry. I am so sorry” he said. “I was so scared of— I don’t know”

“We are just both two fools in love” she laughed

“Fools hopelessly in love?” He asked smiling his laugh lines showing. His eyes crinkled with nothing but love for you.

“I’m afraid so” you smiled holding his hands.

“Marry me, let’s run away together to essos. Let us be free from this blasted place” he said

“No more running Aegon, if I must be with you I want to be yours truly. Running away isn’t the solution” you said your fingers trailing the corners of his lips.

“Then will you marry me here? Be my princess. My dear princess ?” He chuckled, the nick name ‘my dear’ he had given to her the nights following the one he met you on.

“Your family would never allow for it—” you said

“Will you marry me?” He asked again

“You are a prince and I am a mere singer” you said explaining

“Will you marry me?” He asked firmly his mind unchanging

“You aren’t going to change your mind are you?” You asked “there will be consequences”

“I don’t care. Will you marry me?” he said holding your hands “don’t leave me waiting tell me. Tell me. My dear” he begged nuzzling his nose to your cheek.

“There is something I would like to say— do you dislike my singing? And my appearance?” You remembered what Aemond had told you a few weeks ago. “Is it true?” You needed to know the truth.

But on looking at his confused face you knew that Aemond had lied. “Who insulted your singing? And you?” He asked “I need a name, my dear” he said

“Aemond told me that you hated my singing—” Aegon’s mouth dropped low in shock. His brother’s audacity to spread false words about him to his love?

“What? I’m going to kill that imbecile—” he fumed as he frowned thinking of his trouble maker of a brother. Aemond was just as much of trouble as Aegon. He just hid it better. You chuckled.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You interrupted Aegon’s rant, his mind still focused on punching his brother square in the face at breakfast. He looked to you his anger softening “yes you were about to say you would marry me” he smirked softly. The clear love and teasing showed in his eyes.

“Yes, I was. I would be the happiest bride in all of Westeros to marry you Aegon!” You pressed a kiss to his lips as the two of you smiled giddily. How could a proposal in the black cells be better than one in a garden? The power Aegon held over your heart.

Aegon married you with the consent of his family under the eyes of the seven, Alicent almost instantly welcomed you to the family she had grown quite fond of you from how you treated the children. She just had this feeling that Aegon would be happy. And that’s all she ever wanted for her son.

[viiisenyas]

Prologue: Made of Fire and Water

Series Summary: As the firstborn child to Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra, most believed that Elaena would succeed King Viserys’ chosen heir. But after her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named in her stead, the rumours amidst the royal court began to grow regarding her mother’s integrity. Years later, the whispers would not leave, and Elaena would find herself placed in a strategic match with Prince Aegon to placate her mother’s enemies. Little did she know, she had already become a pawn for the political game, and she would become the hidden advantage for the Greens.

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Elaena Velaryon (OC) Series Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI !!) Series Warnings: arranged marriage, canon divergence, smut, suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse, canon-typical incest, death, obsessive behaviour, dubious consent, graphic violence, sexual harassment, enemies to lovers Credits: Divider from here. A/N: This series begins at Episode 6. For narrative purposes, I've aged up some of the characters. This work is also Team Green positive. If you don't like it, keep scrolling.

[Index] | [AO3]

Elaena

The summer breeze swept past Elaena, and the warm sunlight kissed her copper skin. Her father’s dragon released a long roar while he carried both of them through the clouds, and she clung to Laenor.

Seasmoke began his descent towards Blackwater Bay after Laenor gently patted his scales, and the familiar sight of the Red Keep became larger as they neared King’s Landing.

The dragon levelled out just above the water, and her father gripped the handles of the saddle. 

Elaena let her gaze settle on the ships leaving the harbour, sailing to gods know where. The sight was still just as breathtaking as it was when she was but a young girl, still hoping that her own egg would hatch. But it never did.

He leaned forward, and the young princess grinned while Seasmoke began to ascend above the city as they flew over the docks. 

She always admired the great structure of the Dragonpit from this altitude. However, their flight would be over soon. It was time to return to her responsibilities, and to tend to her mother. Rhaenyra was due to give birth any day now, and her smile widened as her mind wandered to the prospect of finally having a younger sister. 

She wondered whether her supposed sister would have silvery hair and violet eyes like her own. Though she was nearly seventeen years of age, she couldn’t contain her excitement of introducing her sister to dolls when the time came. There were still many that she kept over the years that rested on display upon a shelf - some had been gifts that her paternal grandfather, Lord Corlys, had bestowed to her before leaving Driftmark when she was only eight. Others had been from King Viserys himself. 

The deafening flap of Seasmoke’s wings had pulled her from her thoughts as he circled the Dragonpit before he landed just outside the tunnel where the handlers were waiting. 

“Dohaerās, Seasmoke!” One of them commanded.

He growled, and Elaena gently patted his grey scales. 

“Umbās,” Laenor said firmly. “Rybās.”

Seasmoke snarled lightly as the young princess chuckled, and her father unlinked the chain around their waists.

“You did well, darling,” he chuckled softly. “Soon enough you’ll be riding alone on your own dragon.”

“But there aren’t any unclaimed dragons here, Father,” she frowned as Laenor helped her out of the saddle. 

“There’s plenty at Dragonstone, love,” Laenor smiled and gently poked her nose, making her chuckle. “We can venture there after your new sibling arrives.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, love.”

She glanced to her left to see the carriage waiting for them, and her gentle smile dissolved when she met Aegon’s violet gaze.

“My sweet niece,” he called with a wide grin as Sunfyre was being guided out of the Dragonpit.

Elaena resisted the urge to scowl as she dismounted her father’s dragon. 

She despised her uncle, and rather than physically tormenting her as he once had when they were children, he made a point of attempting to provoke her at every turn with his ridiculous innuendos. How he was nearly a man grown, yet still acted like a child at times was beyond her.

“Prince Aegon,” she reluctantly greeted, and Laenor offered the same courtesy. 

Her father pressed his lips together and avoided his good brother’s gaze as he encouraged her to pet Seasmoke, gently moving her hand across the beast’s neck. The dragon snarled softly in contentment when her palm moved against his scales. 

“Why don’t you return to the Red Keep while I fetch an egg for your new sibling,” Laenor suggested. “I’m sure your mother will want your company.”

“All right,” she nodded, and Laenor gently kissed her forehead before she turned to walk towards the carriage.

“Welcome back, Princess,” Ser Steffon greeted. He was sitting astride his white stallion and offered her a gentle smile.

“You look relieved, Ser Steffon,” she laughed.

He chuckled with her. “I am relieved,” he pointed out. “Your unspoiled return just saved my head from a spike.”

She turned to face him, now walking backwards. “If I met my death with my father astride Seasmoke, then I died the death of a dragon rider,” she outstretched her hands dramatically before she mockingly bowed. “It’d be an honour.”

“Aye,” he shook his head as Laenor chuckled. “The Lord Commander warned me you’d be just like your mother in her youth - and your aunt at that.”

Elaena couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, and she turned back with a wide grin. She didn’t notice that Aegon had moved closer, and she nearly collided with him as she released a sharp gasp.

“Fuck,” she huffed, stepping back.

“There are other ways to tame a dragon, sweet niece,” Aegon bent at the waist to whisper in her ear. “If you still yearn for one. Come to my chambers tonight, and I might show you how.”

Her stomach turned. She gave him a contemptuous look as she moved past him towards the carriage, and Aegon chuckled.

“May the gods shrivel his cock,” she muttered under her breath.

The sound of his voice was irritating, and his presence was almost unbearable as she resisted the urge to shiver with disgust.

“Good morrow, Elaena,” Helaena greeted from the carriage with a gentle smile, and her expression softened.

Elaena smiled widely as she approached her aunt while she took off her glove with her teeth. 

“Your mother has given birth,” the Targaryen princess said.

“Already?” She asked, voice muffled. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” Helaena nodded.

Elaena sighed with disappointment and looked down as she removed her other glove.

“What… auspicious news,” she forced a smile and peered back at Seasmoke as the dragon slithered back into the depths of the Dragonpit alongside her father. 

The sunlight reflected from the dragon’s grey scales in an iridescent haze, and Elaena turned back after she caught Aegon leering at her again, sitting astride Sunfyre.

She released a disgusted sigh, rolling her eyes before Helaena outstretched her hand towards her to invite her within the confines of the carriage.

“I do hope your flight with Ser Laenor was a pleasant one,” she tilted her head. 

“It was,” Elaena smiled softly as she grasped her hand and climbed the steps into the wheelhouse. “I must admit, I’m surprised that you’re not riding today. It’s been a while since Dreamfyre was let out.”

“She just laid a clutch of eggs,” Helaena beamed as the two settled together. “I heard that Lord Stark is coming to court from Winterfell. And his eldest sons.”

“Odd,” Elaena furrowed her brows. “The Starks haven’t been to the capital since my first name day.”

“They’re coming for Aegon’s tourney,” she elaborated, and gently squeezed her hand after her niece scoffed. “And perhaps a betrothal.” 

Elaena deadpanned as she resisted the unpleasant shiver that threatened. 

She had grown up on stories of the suspicious and superstitious ways of the Northerners - the stories of the Kings of Winter. A brutal lot, they were, and she dare not assume that the passing centuries had softened their hearts or their grim ways after her forebears had united the realm. Even if it weren’t true, she didn’t want to live out the rest of her days in the grey waste of their homeland.

“Gods, I hope not,” she muttered, and a giggle bubbled from Helaena.

The carriage ride back to Maegor’s Holdfast was tedious and Elaena gazed through the wicker covering while Helaena had fallen asleep. 

She watched as she passed through the capital, and placed her hand over her mouth and nose, unaccustomed to the stench as they passed through Flea Bottom. 

Elaena began to wonder what life would have been like had she been born a commoner rather than a princess. To be a simple peasant, someone who did not need to constantly question why her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named her mother’s heir, and not her. 

She was the eldest of the Velaryon siblings, after all, and the unsettling thought plagued her mind for years. Was it really because she was a woman? Or was it simply to honour Westerosi tradition? But she was painfully aware that her grandsire had already broken that tradition with her mother. 

Her father once told her that it was because Rhaenyra didn’t want to burden Elaena with the responsibility of ruling when the time came. But she knew in her heart it was something… deeper. 

She possessed the typical traits of House Velaryon: silver-white curls, copper skin and violet eyes. Her younger brothers, however, did not inherit the same traits. But of course, that was yet another matter that was meant to be left unspoken. 

When the two finally arrived at the Red Keep, Elaena walked with her aunt through the castle in comfortable silence until they parted ways to tend to their own devices. 

She made haste to her bedchamber to change out of her riding attire. Having settled on a fine cerulean gown, she sighed softly when she gazed into the looking glass while her handmaiden, Rinna, quietly fussed over the mess of her wind-tousled curls. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to style it in the tradition of your house, Princess?” the woman asked. “It would be more manageable.”

“I like my hair just the way it is, thank you,” Elaena rolled her eyes playfully while she anxiously smoothed out the lingering wrinkles of the skirt of her gown with her hands.

“A braid then?” Rinna raised a brow, “Perhaps over your shoulder?”

“Sure.”

“You must be eager to meet your new brother, no?” she smiled. 

“Positively,” Elaena said flatly and examined her fingernails. “I was just hoping that I’d have a sister.”

“Perhaps some day, my princess.”

It didn’t take long for the woman to finish the fishtail, and she tied a leather strap on the ends of her hair to hold it in place.

“There,” Rinna said and pushed the braid over her shoulder before Elaena could reach upwards to do it herself. 

“Thank you,” she smiled sheepishly. 

“Now go. If you delay any longer, your mother will send the guards to come find you,” the handmaiden gave her a pointed look as she stood.

“Do I look like I’ve been out riding?” Elaena asked as she moved towards her door.

“No, but you do smell like you’ve been out.”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered as she glanced around.

There was no time to mask the distinct scent with rosemary oil, and Elaena huffed before she made haste out of her room. She walked quickly throughout the Red Keep, mindlessly greeting every other lord that gently bowed their heads until she rounded the corner towards the next stairwell.

Quiet curses escaped her when she lifted her skirts to skip the steps. She could never understand why King Maegor had left his descendants with a ridiculously enormous castle - that in itself was inherently cruel - but she sighed with relief when she finally approached her mother’s doors and knocked quietly on them.

“Come,” Rhaenyra’s voice resonated, her tone welcoming.

Elaena opened the door and slowly poked her head inside with a sheepish smile. 

“Hello, Mother… Apologies for my tardiness, I was—”

Oh. 

She wasn’t expecting Ser Harwin to be standing beside her mother, and he offered a kind smile as he handed the newborn babe to Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra smiled. “Come in, sit with me a while.”

“I, uh… Of course,” she nodded, letting the door close behind her. 

“Princess,” Harwin greeted with a nod.

“Ser Harwin,” she raised her eyes out of courtesy as she sat on the plush sofa beside her mother. Then her eyes drifted back down towards her brother.

Elaena resisted the urge to frown, and she tilted her head. The boy looked like her other brothers. 

“Where is your father?” Rhaenyra furrowed her brows.

“He’s at the Dragonpit. He said he wanted to choose an egg for the babe.” she shrugged.

“You stink of dragon,” her mother pointed out, disapprovingly. “You went riding with him, didn’t you?”

“I– yes,” Elaena looked away with guilt for a moment before she raised her index finger. “But, I’ve already finished my lessons for the day, and Father wanted to take me riding for practise.”

“You’ll claim a dragon sooner than you think,” Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “But I do hope you’ve learned something today, Elaena. The Septa has informed me that you still struggle with paying attention.” 

She scoffed and pressed her lips together. “If she didn’t speak so slowly, perhaps I’d be more inclined,” she rolled her eyes. “I learn far more from Grandfather than I do from her.”

Ser Harwin smiled, and a quiet laugh escaped him.

“It is still important to focus - even if you find yourself on the edge of tedium.” Rhaenyra gave her a pointed look, and Elaena sighed softly, nodding.

“I’ll try.”

“Well, Elaena, I want you to meet your new brother, Joffrey.”

Joffrey? she thought as she pressed her lips together. That isn’t a Valyrian name.

“Do you want to hold him?” her mother tilted her head. 

Elaena met her gaze and nodded before reaching to gently pull the babe from her grasp as she stood. Elaena cradled the boy in her arms just as she was taught to with Lucerys. 

The babe’s eyes roamed around the grandeur room before he sneezed and the little sound made her giggle. 

“He is very charming, Mother.” 

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is the smallest one out of all of you. And incidentally… you were the largest - and my worst labour.”

Elaena hummed and shifted slowly, keeping her violet eyes on him before she looked at the downy brown hair that thinly covered his head. 

Her brows furrowed, and she discreetly looked up at Ser Harwin who had been watching her sway Joffrey. There were quite a few similarities between them. Between all of them, she finally realised.

It began to make sense why he always seemed to be in their company, and Elaena drew in a breath as she processed the knowledge.

And here I thought he was just being kind.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ser Harwin said, and Elaena cast a sidelong glance in his direction that he didn’t seem to notice.

Her mother emitted a soft hum in response before the knight walked out of the room. Elaena watched him intently before the door closed again, and she cleared her throat. 

“Do you need anything, Mother? Water, perhaps?” She asked as she looked at Rhaenyra. 

The woman shook her head. “No, I’m quite content right now, my darling. Thank you.” 

Elaena slowly sat back down beside her, being careful not to wake the now sleeping infant, continuing to sway him. 

“When I was your age, I couldn’t bear the thought of having children. But everything changed after you were born.” Rhaenyra offered a soft smile, and Elaena returned it. 

The simple acknowledgement quelled most of her doubts, but some still lingered as she looked at Joffrey again. 

“Mother, what are your plans for my future?”

“What do you mean, darling?” Rhaenyra tilted her head as she shifted on the sofa. 

“I mean…” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I’m almost seventeen. The queen said I should be betrothed by now, and Helaena informed me that the Starks might be coming to the capital for one. I-I don’t want to leave home only to be locked away at Winterfell.” 

Rhaenyra exhaled slowly, and she paused in thought as she reached to tuck a loose curl behind Elaena’s ear. 

“My sweet girl,” she leaned closer to her daughter and cupped her cheek. “You descend from the greatest dynasty that has ever been established. You have the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and you are the granddaughter of the greatest voyager. I’m sure that your future husband wouldn’t dare.”

Elaena drew in a breath and leaned against the backrest of the sofa. 

“But, the Starks are our allies,” she said. “And from what I understand, Cregan Stark will be the Warden of the North when the time comes. Regardless of who you wed, you must do your duty to the realm. But for now, you needn’t worry about such things until your red flower blooms.”

Duty. The word settled bitterly in her mind. Lying on her back to later squeeze out an heir for some lord in exchange for a stale oath didn’t seem to be that favourable of a prospect.

The young princess nodded as she masked her disappointment with a polite smile before she gently handed her brother back to her mother.

Gods willing, I’ll just turn up barren, she thought with contempt.