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darklydeliciousdesires · 3 days ago

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Thanks so much, Lee!

Yeah, I needed to include one more time in there before the inevitable. Plus, it's fitting with a couple trying to conceive, too, to be on each other very regularly. Aemond and Aemella don't even need that excuse, though. Ever since they got the hang of sex, they both decided it was one of their favourite things to enjoy together :D

I love that you highlighted that quote! I think it really shows the depth of Aemond's love for her, but also will provide a contrast to how defeated we will see them become from being separated. They draw so much of their strength from one another.

We've a few chapters of bleakness to come, I'm afraid, darling! I promise you they're worth sitting tight through, though <2

A Storm of Stars - Chapter Five.

A huge thank you to my little audience for your continued support. Is shit about to get real in this chapter, I hear you ask? Maybe... ;)

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed.

Words - 3,520

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four

Loss. It was a word that Aemella understood deeply, after losing the babe within her womb before it had truly been a babe at all, her heart shattered beyond imagination that her precious daughter had never come to be. However, she knew herself that the loss suffered by her younger sister over the merciless slaughter of her son, the little prince Jaehaerys, far eclipsed that grief.

She had held the boy, raised him, nurtured him, formed a maternal bond. Helaena’s loss was a wound which cut far deeper. Aemella realised all of this and more as she held her, the young woman wide eyed in a state of shock, trembling in her arms. It was not lost on her that the infant had been, in a fashion, a collateral slaying. After all, it was her own husband whom the ratcatchers had been seeking.

“Is there anything you require, sister? Please, at your word. I will seek it immediately, your grace.” Aemella told her dutifully, drying her tears with a soft, silk handkerchief.

The shock of it continued to coil savagely through the queen, her insides knotting, violet eyes still wide. She merely shook her head, her lips quivering, gulping hard. Helaena remained on mute, clutching her daughter in a vice like grip, leaning into her sister’s embrace.

Aemella looked to her mother, who paced with tear-soaked eyes before the crackling hearth of her fire, the women sharing a gaze of crestfallen mourning. Turning back to her sister, she watched her niece wriggle to free herself, moving to seat herself by the fire. The queen then turned to her, a hand reaching to cup her cheek.

Looking upon her with a stare of steel through her gut-wrenching pain, Helaena leaned to press a kiss just above her brows, leaning to whisper at her ear.

“The Red Kraken shall burn.”

Aemella frowned in confusion, wondering what on earth the lord of the Iron Islands had to do with this, since the assassination had come directly from the Black’s, it had been learned.

Her sister had always been somewhat of an oddity, though, uttering cryptic statements that had little to nothing in way of corelation to the current, Aemella merely nodding and returning the forehead kiss before excusing herself, retiring to her quarters, happily sinking into Aemond’s embrace. They climbed into bed soon after her return, curling up beneath the covers to talk.

“It feels erroneous to speak with such selfish interests at this time, but at least one positive thing can come of it. With the loss we have faced, the king cannot possibly continue to enact his wretched plan against us. It makes little sense to both split his family down to an even lesser fraction at such a critical time, and by that extension rob himself of one of his most competent dragon riders by seeking to send you into a marriage of alliance. I tentatively think, precious one, that for the moment we remain safe.”

Aemella remained rested against his chest, her index fingernail idly circling at his nipple. “You speak a plain truth, darling love. Indeed, Aegon cannot be foolhardy enough to proceed in light of this. If he does, then the state of his mind should be cast firmly into question.”

His finger wound a lock of her silver tresses around his knuckle, his muscles stiffening a little. “I only wish I could throw at him that you are with child, thusly therefore unfit to be used as a bartering piece.” It had been a sad morning when, after returning from the privy chamber seventeen days before, Aemella had regrettably informed her husband of her moonsblood arriving.

Lifting herself from his chest, she reached to stroke his face tenderly. “It shall happen, love. When I cannot say, but I do feel encouraged hope that soon, I will finally carry your child again.”

Leaning to his lips, she kissed him, a kiss of love that soon deepened, gaining heat, turning into something much more. “There seems like no better time than the present to attempt again.”

He hummed against her mouth in agreement, lips leaving hers to trail a scorching path of kisses upon her neck, turning her onto her back. His body blanketed hers, mouth descending, the soft peaks of each breast sucked until her nipples pebbled tightly, mouth then returning to hers. Shifting, he made room for his hand at her apex, fingers stroking in a gentle, deft glide over her slit before seeing the petal-soft warmth within.

She gasped against his mouth, her husband as ever so very skilled in knowing the exact touch to make her nerves sing a symphony of bliss. He smiled against her lips, pulling from the kiss to feed her his fingers, his cock further hardening at the smouldering glance she gave from beneath her lashes as she sucked upon them.

He brought those wettened digits to the pearl of her sex, circling lightly, her breathy sighs fluttering against his tongue, their kisses steeped in honeyed embers. She mewled, and it sent sparks up his spine, quickly sensing her need to something more, his fingers burrowing into her aqueous cunt, thumb replacing the contact at her bud.

The rhythm he set was slow, deep and rolling, mouth sucking at her neck, but not hard enough to mark her. Aemond might have been sinful between the sheets, but he would never leave a mark of said sins for the world to see. Upon her body, though, where clothes would conceal...

“Ahhh!” she gasped, his teeth crushing a bite to the underside of her breast, his tongue circling the deep pink marks thereafter. “I see the beast in my love reveals himself.”

His eyebrows flickered upward, pouting a little smugly. “Hmm. Do not make pretence of not enjoying it.”

She clasped his face in her hands, pulling him against her lips. “I make no such thing.” They kissed with heated need, Aemella nibbling his lower lip and sucking his tongue as his fingers began to rotate so firmly, she felt darts of bliss dash beneath her skin.

He felt her trickling hot and sweet over his knuckles, the urge to replace fingers with tongue knocked aside by what his cock dictated. Kneeling before her, he arrowed into her cunt fluidly, a shuddered breath quaking his chest, watching the way her eyes darkened to stormy violet. Gods, how he loved her to her very bones.

He chased each sinful throb around his cock with a harder thrust, intruding into her so deeply, he truly felt one with her. Where he ended and she began had always remained but a blur, though, a map unchartered, for there was no beginning and end of them. The twins were one.

His shaky breaths were propelled forward by each rasping groan, Aemella whimpering at every hard shunt that filled her. She clenched around him, Aemond gritting in response, cussing, his teeth nipping at her neck, the deep groan in response to the snugness of her cunt making her insides spark.

He had her breathless, glimmering, her back arching off the bed as he wrapped her in his arms and pulled her up with him, his hands gliding over her flesh as he bounced her on every last thick, hot inch of his manhood, her nails dragging down his back. Lightning began to strike at the base of her spine, ecstasy fizzing through her bones, right through to the very marrow of her as she felt herself teetering, reaching the precipice.

Her thighs trembled, squeezing against his hips, feeling him charging to the same destination, until it was upon them both, a fiery tempest, sweeping them both up as the tingles of release erupted. It dragged them under the stormy tides of bliss, steeped in magmatic heat, leaving them breathless, quivering, utterly undone and boneless in the wake of such euphoria as they fought to breathe.

Resting her forehead to his shoulder, their chests heaving, she felt like she was no longer of the earth, sent into some far away realm, reality shattered, the inconceivably incredible pleasure still yet to fully ebb away.

“I love you,” she whispered, combing her fingers through the slightly wayward mess of his silky hair, kissing him softly.

“There is no love like ours,” he replied, clutching her to him, the little flutters of her walls around his cock still so blissful that he did not make effort to move, happily drowned to the moment. “I love you, too.”

They slept a little sounder that night, neither interrupted by the gnawing feeling of dread that had been seeping through them like a poison, their fear abated in the fact that truly, Aegon could not effectively cut off his nose to spite his face and continue forth with his dastardly intentions.

Their assessment of the situation, though, was lamentably incorrect.

The tone within the small council was still decidedly sombre, days on from Prince Jaehaerys’s brutal beheading. Those present appeared pensive, as they naturally would be, on tenterhooks over how the king would demand they proceed.

What brought them further concern was the fact that Otto Hightower, a man of such sense and influence, was no longer seated at the table. Without him, who knew what instability would face them in challenge next, the king seemingly untethered from his rationality altogether.

His opening words reflected that beyond comprehension.

“My lords, call you here this morning to inform you all of my latest move in order to forge a strong alliance, and with that open up the blockade of the gullet. Our people starve below us because of it, and I must show fairness as their monarch, charity towards the smallfolk.”

His pause for breath was Aemond’s cue to speak. “Then why, your grace, do you not simply send my wife and I aboard our dragons to burn Lord Velaryon’s fleet? While it is true that the princess Rhaenys patrols the area, Meleys is no match for two dragons more than double her size.”

The small council all gave faces of approving agreement to his statement, all of course, bar the king himself. “My machinations already move in motion, Aemond. T’was fourteen days past when I sent a raven to Dalton Greyjoy, with the offer of marriage to our sister and also the position of Master of Ships. He accepted. The Iron Fleet was spotted off the coast of Kings Landing this morning, his arrival imminent. With his effort, your place in the air aboard Vhagar and his ships upon the sea, we will be victorious.”

The coiling viper that was Aemond’s anger flared with such deadly venom, he immediately placed a hand upon his sword. His mother, ever watchful, reached to grasp his arm, her eyes urgent.

“Aegon, you cannot make moves in secrecy behind the backs of your council like this,” she stated emphatically, all of that urgency shaking her voice. “Our family cannot be divided in this manner, at this time! Please, I implore you. See sense.”

“Your grace, with the greatest respect, to call an annulment to your brother and sister’s marriage - even to further a plan of merit - I once again must advise most vehemently against,” Lord Jasper then spoke. “To bend our laws to such an extreme is chaotic, unthinkable!”

Taking a piece of parchment from before him, Aegon uncoiled it, proffering it to the centre of the table. “As king, my word is final. My decree is final, and this morning, the High Septon signed.” He then looked to his brother, a glare of pure contempt narrowing his eyes. “Your marriage as of this moment is annulled. Over. Aemella is your wife no longer.”

Aemond's knuckles turned white as he gripped the hilt of his sword, his breaths coming in harsh, ragged bursts. His eye, filled with a fury that could ignite the very air around them, locked onto Aegon. "I will not let this stand. You cannot dismantle our family for your own whims, Aegon. This will bring nothing but ruin."

Aegon's expression remained unyielding, the look of a man resolute in his decisions. "The ruin has already come, brother. I need not remind you whom the blame lies solely with. It was your actions to ignite this war, your actions that robbed me of my son and heir, my little boy, slain in his bed! You brought this on yourself, and it is my duty to salvage what fucking remains!"

Like a lightning strike, Aemond was out of his chair, his sword unsheathed and pointing at his brother, the small council descending into chaos.

“Aemond, no!” Alicent cried, moving to halt her son.

That son, though, was too far gone into his rage for reason or restraint. “You will not take my wife, and you will not put our position in jeopardy merely to suit your own wretched need for payback against me,” he warned, the tip of his sword drawing a drip of blood beneath the king’s chin, Ser Criston moving to Alicent’s aid in holding him back.

The tension in the room was palpable, the consequences of the king's decree setting the council on edge. As Aemond’s blade glinted menacingly at Aegon’s throat, the king’s disdain only grew more pronounced. Alicent’s cries fell upon deaf ears, the once united front now crumbling before them.

“Aemond, lower your sword. Do not throw away your honour for this,” she pleaded, her voice a juxtaposing mix of desperation and determined resolve to bring her sons under control.

“You speak of honour?” Aemond spat, his gaze not wavering from Aegon. “Look around you, Mother. Honour has no place in this room, not while snakes coil around the throne.” He then turned to Lord Larys, deadly intent swirling through his remaining eye. “This has your scheming, sycophantic mark all over it, Larys. For that, know you make an enemy of me.”

The slimy toad of a man remained passive. “I seek only to advise my king in his time of crisis. T’was nothing personal, my prince.”

The small council members exchanged glances, fear and uncertainty etched into their faces, unsure of where their loyalty should lie. Thier duty was to their monarch, but the prince’s case was the more compelling. Aemond was not wrong.

Aegon’s expression remained a mask of cold resolve. “You think me a villain, brother? Perhaps I am. But I will be a villain that secures our house’s future, unlike you, who jeopardises it with every reckless action.”

The words stung, each one a barb that dug deeper into Aemond’s pride and fury. He spoke of recklessness, and there he was, revelling in it. Murdering a slew of innocent men merely to take the life of one guilty one, and breaking apart his family for an alliance it held no true merit to seek.

He could feel the eyes of the council upon him, could sense their judgment, their fear. But more than that, he could feel the burning need to protect what was his, to defy the brother who sought to tear his world apart.

Summoning every ounce of restraint, Aemond finally withdrew his sword, his mother and Ser Criston releasing their grasp upon him. “Mark my words, Aegon. You may sit upon the throne, but you will never command my loyalty. Not now. You have made an enemy this day, and I promise you will regret it.”

As he sheathed his sword, the room seemed to exhale collectively, the tension easing slightly but far from dissipating. Aegon’s gaze never left his brother, a silent battle of wills waging between them, one that would undoubtedly shape the fate of their house.

Without another word, Aemond turned on his heel, striding from the room, his mind already whirling with counterplans. He would not let this stand, but he needed to be smart, to be cunning, and above all else, secure his wife’s safety. No mere piece of ink scrawled parchment could nullify it. She was his, until his last breath.

“Mella?” he called out upon arriving in their quarters, his love coming in from the terrace, her eyes wide. She had felt his distress and ire flicker, in half minds whether to go and wait outside the small council meeting for him, but ultimately deciding it best not to. “Prepare yourself necessities, nothing more than you can carry comfortably aboard Fyreclaw. We are leaving.”

Her face contorted in confusion, perplexed, yet seeking to bring her usual calm to the storm of his fury. “Aemond, my love. Tell me what has transpired firstly. I feel it within you, yet I know not of what has sent you reeling.”

“Our fucking brother,” he gritted, the words feeling like poison upon his tongue, “has offered you in marriage to Dalton Greyjoy in return for a post as Master of Ships and his assistance in annihilating the blockade. It has been accepted, our marriage allegedly nullified by the High Septon just this morning, and the Iron Fleet now close to arrival upon our shores. We must leave at once.”

Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach. “What?” she cried, bracing herself in a grip upon his forearms. “But he cannot! What did the small council say?”

“Implored his sense to prevail, but it is abundantly clear now that he has none. The king is beyond reasoning with.”

“But... but...” her words faltered, distress claiming her composure. “I still would never be Dalton Greyjoy’s true wife, though! Their law forbids it. I would be a salt wife at best, not being an Iron born woman able to claim the position of rock wife!” she cried in desperation.

“No, but you are a princess in your own right, a fact that I feel would override any of their cultural rules. Now, we must make haste before Lord Greyjoy arrives to take you away.”

Her distress burned with all the heat of dragonfire, and Aemond saw it, felt it deep in the fibres of his soul, taking a moment to restore her calm.

“Fear not, precious one. When I pledge to you that no wicked schemes concocted against us will ever come to fruition, I mean it until my dying breath.” Cupping her face in his hands, he placed a loving kiss to her lips, thumbs stroking the apples of her cheeks. “I would burn entire empires to the ground solely to watch the flames dance in your eyes. Nobody shall tear you from me.”

As their world filled further with treachery and backstabbing, disloyalty and deceit, Aemella understood right to the root of her soul that truly, Aemond’s love for her was the only thing she could trust wholeheartedly. And so, she moved swiftly in order to pack some of her belongings. Alas, their motions were interrupted, the doors to their quarters flying open, the king and three members of the Kingsguard storming in.

“Seize him!” Aegon bellowed, the knights whom Aemond regarded as little else than incompetent lickspittles advancing, swords drawn.

“Aegon, no!” Aemella cried, rushing to place herself within the mele. “You cannot take him; I will not allow it! As you sister, I beg of you, please see reason!”

The king viewed her with distain and nothing more. Not that had ever been close, but any familial bonds were severed entirely in that moment, upon both sides. “He committed treason, holding a sword to my throat. Your former husband has gotten away with much, but this I will not allow to stand.”

Aegon’s command was met with swift action, the Kingsguard knights seizing Aemond at once. Aemella’s desperate cries echoed through the chamber as she clung to her husband, refusing to let him go. “This is madness!” she shouted, her voice breaking with anguish. “Aegon, you cannot do this. There must be another way!”

“There is no other way,” Aegon replied coldly, his eyes devoid of any empathy. “He has betrayed the crown, his actions ignited a war and brought about the death of my child. He will finally face the consequences of his quick temper.”

“Stand aside, princess.” But oh, she would not. A punch was aimed, the knight catching it straight to his nose, Aemond struggling against the grasp, a sword held to his throat as Aegon intervened to physically restrain his sister, who screamed in fury as she watched her irate husband dragged from the room.

“This will not stand, my love,” he called back. “Be brave, Mella. Trust that I will return to you.”

As he left her sight, she felt as if somebody had torn her insides in two, collapsing onto the cold stone floor, screaming in distress as Aegon looked down upon her with sneering victory.

“You will be guarded within your quarters until you are to depart for the Iron Islands. If you make any move to free our brother, I will have you tried for treason as well. Choose wisely, sister, and enjoy your new life further north. We will, of course, attend your wedding with much jubilation.”

Jubilation. She no longer understood the meaning of the word as she remained upon the floor, howling with grief.

A/N - Now, did you enjoy what you just read? Please remember, this is not Instagram. Clicking that heart does little, but a comment? Your author will be rewarded. A comment and reblog? Your author is throwing roses at your feet! It takes less time to do this than it did for you to read the chapter, too. Please, be kind and help support the fandom! :)

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