lovingclare - Tumblr blog

[lovingclare]

Ok ok here it goes

The reader is Aemond betrothed, but it's his brother Aegon who worships and desires her. No matter how hard he tries he can't hide it from his brother, mother, grandfather and even from the small council. He knows he can't have her and feels sad about it, but it doesn’t stop him from warning Aemond that if he hurts her Aemond will deal with him.

aegon if you see this i want you to know that you always deserve a happy ending i’m so sorry for this. that being said, i’ll say it again, I LOVE PINING

worship | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: angst, language, pining, a little brief smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

The news of your betrothal to Aemond sent Aegon into a rage, his arm swiping everything off of the table in front of him. All he ever wanted was you, and now you were being given to another.

Not just anyone, however, but the brother that everyone chose above Aegon. You were now being forced to choose him too.

Aegon did not truly care for many. His father cast him aside, and his mother was much too young when she had him to do right by him. Heleana and Aemond were close on their own, and neither respected Aegon.

He quickly took a liking to you. He told you a joke that made you nearly cry in hysterics from laughing, and he instantly knew he was head over heels. It was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard.

Aegon absolutely worshipped you.

He has fresh flowers sent to your room each morning with your handmaidens. He claimed that after a day, they were no longer perfect, and that was unacceptable. Everything for you had to be perfect. You thought it was protocol to refresh the flora in all rooms each morning; you had no idea the special attention Aegon demanded for you.

He had several gowns sent to your room in green and gold, each more expensive than the last. When he knocked on your apartment door to see if they had arrived, you let him in to show him the extensive array of boxes.

“This is simply too much, Aegon, I cannot accept this,” you spoke.

“Do not be ridiculous, it is not too much,” he responded.

“Half of these gowns are worth more than my entire House.”

“I wish for you to have only the best,” Aegon said, matter-of-factly.

“Do you treat all your guests as such?” you questioned.

Aegon smiled. “Not all of my guests deserve it.”

If you did not finish a meal, Aegon would yell at the kitchen staff for daring to make something you didn’t like, and he would tell them they were to make something he knew you loved, or they were to be terminated from their position.

You told Aegon to stop doing that, and stood watch as you made him apologize for the way he spoke to them. Afterwards, he was not concerned with their feelings, but rather, yours.

“Are you angry with me?” Aegon checked, “I only want the best for you.”

“I know, Aegon, but please do not disrespect anyone to ensure it.”

Aegon believed himself skilled at hiding his affections toward you, but he was mistaken. Quite literally everyone knew, including Aemond.

When you interrupted a council meeting to deliver news to Aemond, the guards trusting his bride-to-be with the information, Aegon watched in annoyance. You bent down to whisper in his ear, and seeing you in such close proximity to Aemond nearly made him sick.

You went to pull away, but Aemond responded, gently holding your head close to him so that he could whisper in your ear, the words clearly only meant for you. Aegon could not help but display a sour expression, though he tried hard to hide it.

“Shall we get on with it, brother?” he spoke, cutting your personal conversation short.

Aemond smiled. He enjoyed setting off his brother. “It appears I have an urgent matter to attend to, my apologies,” Aemond spoke, standing and bowing toward the men of the council and his mother.

Aemond walked side-by-side with you, your conversation continuing. Aegon saw you lightly chuckle and smile at something Aemond said, and he was incapable of focusing on much else for the remainder of the meeting. No one else was supposed to make you laugh. No one. Not even your betrothed.

Aegon spent that night furious, the fire in his blood burning hotter than usual. He decided to confront you, demand to know what made you laugh, confess his feelings, tell you not to marry Aemond-

He knew he couldn’t. He stood in front of your chamber doors, fist raised, but did not knock. He was moments away from leaving when he heard a small whimper from the other side of the door.

Aegon couldn’t help himself; he pressed his ear to the crack of the door, intently listening to see if any more noises followed. The more he listened, the more he heard soft whines and whimpers, and he knew the pitch and tone of your voice well.

He softly cracked the door open, unable to control his curiosity, and nearly fell to his knees at the sight before him. The sounds were a result of you touching yourself. His cheeks turned a deep shade of red as he watched you. You couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was addicted to the sight.

He eventually forced himself away when he heard the faint sound of armor clamoring down a nearby staircase. He retreated to his chambers and remained awake for hours, unable to get the sight and sound of you out of his head.

He snuck out to the street of silk, in desperate search of anyone who reminded him of you. When he would someone of a similar height, build, and feature, he presented them with more coins than he remembered bringing.

He told the woman that she was to only respond to your name.

He bent her over on the edge of the bed, unclothing himself and immediately inserting himself into her. One hand wrapped around her hair, pulling her head backward, as the other gripped her waist.

She began to moan as he thrust in and out, but it sounded nothing like you.

He shushed the woman, and she stuttered, “you wish for me to be quiet, Your Grace? Most men wish the opposite.”

“I do not care what most men wish,” he responded, affirming that he wanted her to be quiet. Her noises were pulling him out of the memory of you, but he quickly returned, repeating the sounds in his head as he snapped his hips forward.

He squeezed his eyes shut, disconnecting the soul of the woman in front of him from her body, his mind’s eye replacing her with you.

Though the noises you made stuck in his brain, it was not only the sight of you eliciting them that he thought of. It was you as you normally were, smiling, laughing, swinging your hair backward to turn around- just existing.

Aegon desperately wanted to have you, to worship your body, to be the reason you made the noises he heard, but it was not purely lust. He also refused to accept that anyone else could make you laugh or smile, could make you feel content, or could make you feel truly happy. He knew Aemond could not give you the proper love and affection that he could. Aemond was not capable, and even if he was, he did not understand you like Aegon did.

When the family hosted a rather lavish event to commemorate your betrothal to Aemond, Aegon drank the Red Keep’s wine dry. He would down entire cups in one gulp and immediately demand another.

He watched Aemond intertwine his fingers with your own, and without even thinking, he smashed a glass on the table.

The room’s attention turned to him, but he leaned back in his chair and called for another drink as if nothing happened. Alicent shot him a disappointed glare, but Aegon simply kept on drinking.

Despite how furious he was, he could not stop looking at you. Even on his brother’s arm, you were the most exquisite creature he had ever seen. It did not escape his attention that the gown you wore was one of his extravagant gifts.

He was brutally awaken by the pounding of a fist against his chamber door in the depths of the night.

He rubbed his eyes as he opened the door, only to find Aemond, still clothed and put together from the celebration.

“We must speak,” Aemond said, inviting himself into Aegon’s chambers.

Aegon threw his head back in annoyance and shut the door. “What is the hour?”

“You must keep your distance from her from now on.”

That woke Aegon up. “No.”

“Brother, I know of your affections toward her, but they have forced you cause a scene in front of the whole of King’s Landing. She is not to be your wife, she is to be mine, and I require you to act as such,” Aemond explained.

Aegon was tired, his head pounding from a brutal hangover. “You do not deserve this.”

“Thank you,” Aemond responded, misunderstanding, and taking it as an apology.

“No, I mean to say you do not deserve her,” Aegon corrected.

“Mind your tongue,” Aemond warned.

“I know I cannot have her,” Aegon started, “and that is something that will sadden me until the end of my days. That does not mean my affections will disapate. I swear to the Seven, Aemond, if you hurt her, I will fucking kill you myself.”

“You could not do so if you spent the rest of your days trying.”

“If you harm her, I will indeed try, even if it takes the rest of my days.”

[lovingclare]

ooohhhhhh, please can you write a smut with aegon? maybe where he catches her in the town with some guy she’s been seeing and he just gets jealous and they go back to the keep and it’s just angsty but smutty. tyyyyy 😚

Request: Aegon weds Helaena instead of his twin sister. They continue seeing each other but Alicent force them apart and end this with smut

Warnings: 18+, smut, humping, mention of p + v, sibling incest,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Since birth, you and Aegon had always been attached to the hip. You fed from your mother’s breasts at the same time, napped together, bathed together, and continued doing so as you grew up. Where Aegon went, you followed. 

When your bodies started to change, you pointed it out to each other and did things the Faith of the Sevens considered sins. 

Because of your bond, you always assumed you would wed your twin brother when you could flower, but Aegon ended up being betrothed to your younger sister, Helaena. Neither you or Aegon were pleased with the decision. He didn’t love Helaena, and never would. She was just a wife he had to bed until his seed took. 

On nights Aegon didn’t see Helaena, he snuck to your chambers. With you, he didn’t need to imagine someone else’s face to keep his cock hard. All he had to do was look in your eyes — and your perky breasts and pink cunny. 

Eventually, you got caught and your mother took the decision to order a guard at your door at night. 

Three years went by since you last shared a bed, since you last felt each other’s naked body. You had turned to brothels, buying yourself the finest looking men that would fill the void of your brother - although none would equal his beauty. 

It was difficult seeing him around the Keep and staying away from each other. All you wanted was to throw yourself into Aegon’s arms and never let go. 

‘’You smell new tonight, Princess,’’ the blond boy complimented as he kissed your skin, smelling something different. ‘’Although I do not recognize what it is.’’

‘’Jasmin,’’ you said, tilting your neck to give him more space. ‘’I brought home soaps from Highgarden when I visited.’’

He continued to kiss your body as you laid there in the silks of your private chamber, veils of curtains shielding you from the prying eyes of the customers. It was no secret that the princess was frequenting brotels of the Street of Silk, but your naked body was not for open view. Only those who were given golden coins had the chance to see what hid beneath your sumptuous dresses. 

Tonight, his name was Dorian, or mayhaps Davos. It was the same to you. He had a pair of blue eyes that reminded you of Aegon's, which had heavily influenced your choice of boy of pleasure. You've laid with him before. He was one of your favorites. Sweet, delicate faced and he had a decent cock. 

His kisses were light as his lips descended down your naked body. His hands trailed down your collarbones and to your supple breasts. You sighed in pleasure, appreciating the way he was suckling on your nipple. 

‘’Does the Princess like how I'm taking care of her?’’ he asked sweetly, wanting to please. 

You relaxed against the pillows. ‘’Very much.’’ 

Dorian continued to kiss lower and lower, until he reached your lower stomach. ‘’May I touch you, Princess?’’ 

You nodded in consent, a long moan leaving your parted lips when Dorian’s thumb circled your neglected pearl. After a month of traveling, a month of only having your hands to pleasure yourself, your body was sensitive and in need. 

On the other side of the curtains, Aegon was strolling through the brothel with a goblet of wine in his hand, rubbing himself over his breeches while looking for a suitable cunny to dip his cock in. There were women of every kind. Some were half-naked, others fully exposed, all wearing expressions of lust and desire. 

As he walked past one of the curtained-off rooms, he couldn’t help but notice the feminine moans and gasps coming from within. Curious, Aegon paused in his steps and pulled the curtain slightly open.

Aegon’s eyes widened at the sight before him. He almost dropped the goblet in his hand at the pure shock of realizing whose body was being pleasured behind the curtain. His twin sister. His sister that he had not touched in so long. 

You writhed and moaned so prettily on the silken sheets, your face scrunched up in pleasure at the work of the boy of pleasure in the bed. 

With his hand still gripping the curtain, Aegon pulled it open and stormed into the room. His eyes were burning with jealousy and fury, his voice sharp when he spoke. ‘’Get out.’’

The boy of pleasure looked up in surprise, gasping at the sight of your twin brother standing at the end of the bed. He glanced at you, then back to Aegon, not knowing what to do. You had paid for his company, he should stay. But the rage on Aegon’s face terrified him. 

“I said get out,” Aegon repeated with his jaw clenched, his eyes never leaving you. ‘’It’s a command from your prince of the realm and heir to the throne.’’ 

The boy of pleasure hurried off the bed and left the room, leaving you and Aegon together. 

You sat up when the curtains closed again, your eyes wide and your body stiff. With the way Aegon burst through the curtains with such anger and rage on his face, you knew exactly what he was feeling. Jealousy.

‘’What in the Seven fucking Hells is this?’’ His voice was sharp and harsh, and his blood was boiling. ‘’You let whores sully your body with his disreputable seed?’’ 

You poured yourself more wine into your cup and took a small sip under Aegon’s gaze, not bothering to cover your body. ‘’I don’t let them fill me, if that’s what you’re worried about. There is no bastard babe in my womb.’’ 

Aegon clenched his jaw at your response. The fact that you were so casual, that you were so calm was making him even more angry. He took a few steps towards you, his eyes roaming over your naked and exposed body. Gods, you were so beautiful. The memory of the many times he had you like this under him flashed through his mind, and he cursed under his breath, his cock hardening in his breeches.  

‘’You let someone unworthy between your legs. You…you betrayed me!’’ 

You almost laughed at the absurdity of his words. Betrayed him? 

‘’Mother forced us apart,’’ you reminded him. She was the villain of the story, not you. ‘’What was I supposed to do, Aegon? Plot for my sister’s death so I could wed her widower husband?’’

‘’We could have used the hidden passages and seen each other behind Mother’s back.’’

‘’And risk her exiling me to Oldtown?’’ You shook your head, refusing this to be your fate. 

‘’I would not have let her.’’ He climbed over the bed and reached for your chin with a firm grip. Forcefully, he tilted your face up to look at him. ‘’I would not have let her take you from me.’’ Aegon’s voice was lower and huskier now that he was so close to you, and you could feel the heat coming off his body. He let go of your chin but didn’t move away, trapping you between his arms. 

As he hovered over you, your eye’s met with his. You felt like you could almost drown in their blue hue. This was his natural state, you knew. Full of fire and lust, unable to control his emotions. His breathing became deeper and more ragged as he continued to stare down at you. 

You were both silent for a moment until Aegon suddenly lowered his head, burying his face into your neck. He nipped and sucked at your skin, biting down hard just to hear you hiss. His body pressed you down into the bed, humping against you. His clothes felt rough against your bare skin, but the friction of your bodies sent shocks of pleasure through each other. 

‘’Ahh, I need you, Aegon,’’ you mewled in his ear, fingers clutching at his commoner tunic. His hard bulge was pressing against your naked cunny, the wetness seeping from you staining the fabric every time he rubbed against you. 

His lips kissed their way up your jaw, then he brushed his nose against yours. ‘’Have me.’’

The lewd sounds came from behind the curtains echoed through the brothel all night, making customers wish they could have a turn with whoever was giving pleasure. Little did they know, it wasn't a brothel worker who was behind the curtains, but a prince and a princess who were making up for three years of craving each other.

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

[lovingclare]

How about Aegon and twin sister after death of jaehaeryss he needs to ahve another heir but he doesn't want to have one with heleana. he wants you

Request: Aegon and twin sister being in love but he married Helaena instead and wants YOU to have his babiess and be the next conqueror

Warning: mention of pregnancy, mention of child death,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

After the murder of Jaehaerys, things changed inside the keep. Aegon enforced the security and diminished the number of people who were allowed inside Maegor's Holdfast. His family lived there, he didn't want a repeat of what happened to his little son. And he didn't let you, his darling twin sister, although capable of defending yourself, go anywhere without your sworn protector. 

Aegon was in pain by the death of his little son, and he was hurting for Heleana who had to witness such a horrific act, but if these rat catchers would have come to your chambers, if they would have harmed you, Aegon would have gone completely mad. 

There was nothing in the world that Aegon cared more about, loved more, than you. You were his other half, a part of him. You grew together in the same womb. 

If you had married Aegon instead of Helaena, he would have had no difficulty performing his duties. You would possibly have many children by now. You were the right choice, his darling twin sister. You were the one he wanted to warm his bed at night. You were the one he wanted to stand beside when he would get crowned.

But your grandsire, Otto, didn’t allow the betrothal. He pressed to the King for Helaena, claiming she was more suitable and would balance his depravity. It was all bullshit. Otto wanted her on the throne because she was more malleable and manipulable than you. Unlike Helaena, you could see through his webs and plottings. 

You were fresh out of your bath when you received a knock on your door. The hour was late, making you wonder who it could be. You tightened your robe, making sure it covered your body as modestly as it could, and allowed the servant to come in. 

‘’What is it, Dyana?’’ you asked, hissing as your handmaiden brushed through a knot in your hair. Could she be more delicate?

She stepped in, dressed in her red dress and earth colored apron. ‘’The King is requesting your presence in his chamber, Princess.’’ 

You tried your best to conceal your confusion. 

Tonight, per the small council’s request, Aegon was supposed to summon Helaena to his chamber and impregnate her with a new heir. Two moons had passed since he lost his heir…and another was needed. Aegon had informed you of the duty in the afternoon after meeting with his small council. He was not happy about it, preferring to bed you, but Helaena was the one he was wed to.

Ser Aeron followed you to the King’s chambers, taking place beside Aegon’s guard standing outside the door after you stepped inside, as they have been doing for the past two months. Assigning a sworn protector at your door wasn’t enough for Aegon, he also requested you sleep in his bed, refusing to close his eyes unless he could feel you next to him.  

You stepped into the solar with careful steps and alert eyes, not wishing to walk in on your sister and Aegon having sex. You understood and respected that it was part of their duties, but you could not be a spectator. 

‘’She’s not here,’’ Aegon’s voice echoed through the large space. He came into view, his breeches half unlaced and his tunic untucked. ‘’I sent Helaena back to her chambers.’’

That was fast, you couldn’t help but think. 

‘’We didn’t fuck,’’ he said bluntly, pouring wine into a cup, then a second — for you. 

‘’What do you mean?’’ 

Aegon handed you the other cup while taking a sip of his own. ‘’I didn’t put my cock in her cu—’’

You shot him a look, cutting him off. It was not what you meant. ‘’What of your royal duties? Your small council is demanding a new heir.’’ 

‘’I’ll give them one.’’ Aegon pulled you closer and pressed his palm over your empty stomach, right where a babe should grow. ‘’We’ll give them one.’’ 

The sincere look in his violet eyes told you he was not jesting. He would never jest about having children with you, he’s dreamed of it for so long. To see you beautiful and swollen with his babe. 

Your mother would be furious. She knew of your and Aegon’s adventures behind closed doors and warned you about the consequences of not taking moon tea after he spilled his seed inside you. The shame it would bring upon the family.  

‘’Aegon, we can’t—’’

‘’We can. I’m the King, I take the decisions now.’’ He caressed your stomach, imagining a babe inside. ‘’No more tea,’’ he murmured, pressing his forehead against you, repeating himself. ‘’No more moon tea.’’

‘’What of Helaena?’’ you asked, fighting the smile that was trying to curl on your lips.

Although Aegon didn’t share any romantic love for his younger sister — and neither did she —, to the eyes of the Sevens, she was still his wife. 

His lips turned into a grin. ‘’The Conqueror had two wives. I wear his crown, don’t I? I can too.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron  @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios  @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden @memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron   @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08  @mymultiveres  @secretsthathauntus  @puffycreamcakes @thirsty4nonlivingmen @naty-1001 @katiepie67 @moshpot24x @hc-geralt-23 @lovelynerdytraveler @saturn-sas  @zgzgh @sssjuico10 @tabloidteen @timetoten @deekaag @wondxrgurl @aerangi @strmborns @astridyoo15 @daemonslittlebitch @queenbeestuffs @severewobblerlightdragon @agentstarkid @msliz @vane1999-blog @fairyfolkloresposts @todaywasafairytale07 @otomaniac @zgzgzh @thebeardedmoon @golden-library @kikyrizuki @hnslchw @camy85 @winxschester @armstrongscommentsection @withfireandbl00d @randomstory56 @JudgmentDays-Girl @darylandbethfanforever9 @darylandbethfanforever9 @aegonswife @dakotapaigelove @jays-bullshit @blublock404 @Icefyre19 @paulilvsremus @mfedits @aemondwhoresworld @angrybirdxx @YarianyIrizarry @frutiloopslupin @minedofmoria @aleemendoza2425-blog @quinquinquincy @Rosey1981 @maria-reads-everything @eddieslut69 @barnes70stark @baybaybear @prettyduckling22 @Briefwinnerpersonaturtle @darlingcharling-blog @deliaseastar @Wolfgirl-205 @visenyareads @Nanaldy @Lovelywiseprincess @not-neverland06 @newtmyhusb @mikimimic

All and more taglist:  @kenqki@hawkegfs@gillybear17@black-rose-29@fudge13@cece05@laylasbunbunny@gemofthenight@beautyb1ade  @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff   @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity  Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever @papichulo120627 @qardasngan @ghostlyvoidydragon @M0rgans1nterlud3 @dahlia-blossom21 @Spacexdrago @nhlfs

[lovingclare]

old money, old soul

༄ you loved him in a different lifetime; and your soul yearns for him.

༄ modern aegon ii targaryen x reader

was it possible there was a lifetime where you'd loved so dearly; felt the tender brush of his hands on your skin as he touches upon you, basked in his reverent gaze, brimming with so much awe and wonder that you could almost taste it on your lips?

it wasn't the first time you'd woke with a start— clutching a hand to your chest as short, gasps of breath leaves you, a feeling of emptiness and hurt overwhelming all sense of reason as you mourn for the silver haired man in your dreams.

he was so beautiful yet so melancholy. a boy, barely a man in your earliest dreams, yet his eyes were devastating in it's sadness. oh, but he was all the same yours. you held him in your arms as he wept in his grievance of being unloved, of the circumstances which he was born into.. he would tell you his fears, and you would soothe him with the gentlest hand he's had all his life. you would tell him you love him dearly, and he would know you meant every word because you had the same heart.

you were his reprieve. his world kept in soltitude, free from the intrigues of the court and his family that were bent in taking everything good in his life. no crown, or titles, or coin could ever compare to you. you held his world in your tiny hands, and his entire being; every good that were left in him was in you.

in your little home, he was no prince. he talked of his interests with the outmost heart. he laughed freely, with his head thrown back, with a genuine and free spirit, without all the burdens of his mother's expectations and without the fear of being hunted down and chased for his claim. in your home, he was not unloved. he was adored, and praised. he was comforted and held like he deserved.

he loved you. passionately. with his whole heart. he uttered promises of his devotion to your skin, building you up in the most sinful way possible, until you were melting in his arms... he adored you so. aegon adored you so.

that ache in your chest festers like a untreated wound; oh aegon. your sweet love, who would beg for you to never leave him. to never part with him, mouth full of your name in his breathy, pleading gasps. only in this dream, his eyes were filled with nothing but tears, his devastation plain as a day as he held you in his shaking arms, crying out your promises to one another. refusing to believe you'd part from him.

as everything good in his life, they'd found you. those who wish to harm him were countless, but he cared little about anything to warrant a reaction so visceral, he declared himself king to avenge you.

the maiden in the forest.

he was unwilling. so unwilling that he refused to believe you'd never come back to him. so unwilling that he heaves, struggles to breath as he pressed his cheek into your pale face, undeterred by all the blood, "promise me we will never part." his voice was low, different from the many times before but altogether, the same. "tell me we would never part, my love. tell me." he begs.

"we would never part." you vow, cupping his cheek, your touch was fleeting, "i shall find you in every life time." you whisper, fingers curling around his silver strands with meager strength.

"i will have only you..."

you peel back the covers, padding your way into the bathroom. in your reflection, it was evident that you had woke crying, your eyes were swollen and red from the dreams. or were they memories? could you even differentiate from memories and your real life anymore? were you so... lonely that you'd taken into dreaming for a man who's devotion to you transcends lifetimes?

you were unsure. but you'd wandered into the kitchen, many times that month, staring blankly at nothing in particular, hoping the yearning leaves.

"are you sure you're okay?" the soft, worried voice came from behind you, and you looked back to see your dear friend in the dim light of the kitchen, looking incredibly worried. "are the dreams still bothering you?" helaena places a hand on your shoulder.

you shrug your shoulders, "they don't bother me, ena."

"yet you sit at our kitchen, depressed beyond reason everytime." she respond, playfully. "we need a new routine." helaena tuts.

"you're not about to drag me into your lavish summer home." you warn, glimpsing the mischievous light in her eyes. she'd often clamored for you to join her and her family's summers in a sunny villa somewhere in italy.

so you've heard there's never a dull moment, with several children from her father's marriages, and general family affairs. helaena was as mild mannered as they could come, but even she comes back from summers spent with the rest of her family smoking to ease some tension. you'd held her drunk ass up enough times to know her family spelled nothing but chaos.

"oh, i'm about to do exactly that." helaena nods, grabbing onto your arm with a grip that has your reeling.

[lovingclare]

Duty Ends Where Love Starts - Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sweethearts since childhood, you and Aegon were always meant to be together, but when duty, love, and political rivalry all clash together, you both find yourselves in loveless marriages with other people. After an argument breaks out between your husband, Aemond, and his brother you seek to help mend the issue. When you find yourself in Aegon's chambers alone with only him, suppressed emotions bubble their way to the surface.

Warnings: Reader is Rhaenyra's daughter, Slight Aemond x Reader (One Sided), Infidelity, Heavy emphasis on infidelity, Targcest (Uncle and Niece), Arranged marriages, Smut, P in V sex, Creampie, Mentions of pregnancy, use of Moon Tea, Minors Do Not Interact (MDNI)

Word Count: 2.9k

You were three and ten when Aegon kissed you for the first time in the library of the Red Keep while you were both supposed to be studying. It was your first kiss, and his, too; neither of you knowing what to do as your lips met each other's. It was clumsy and awkward, lasting only a few seconds, but it felt like a bliss-filled eternity before you pulled away, your cheeks burning as a deep shade of bright red covered them, you stuttering as you failed to find the right words to tell the boy who you had fallen for.

After that day you begged your mother, Rhaenyra, to speak with your Grandsire about having you wed to Aegon when you both came of age, telling her that you'd never have another take your hand in marriage. Your mother honored your request, but it was Aegon's mother, the Queen Consort Alicent Hightower, who refused to betroth her eldest to you.

When the time came, you found yourself Aemond Targaryen's wife, a marriage that would prove itself to be far from fulfilling. Aemond loved you, as he claimed, but the feelings were far from reciprocated, even as you spent more time with him over the years. He wasn't Aegon. Still, duty always called to those who held it, and you were his wife by law.

"Where is Aegon?" Your Grandsire, Viserys, questioned one night over supper, looking around the table for his son. "Do any of you know where he is?" He asked again, looking to the fellow members of your family for any insight. You had to admit, you were curious, too. It wasn't like him to miss supper, especially not when his favorite wine was being served.

"He and I had an argument," Your husband answered from beside you, the traces of a smug smirk on his face as he glanced over at you. "He had some choice words regarding my Lady Wife and I, and I made sure to put him in his place." You raised a brow at the information, unable to feign disinterest any longer. "My elder brother is likely sulking in his room right now as any child would." You watched as Alicent shot him a look, a warning to her son not to bring further drama to the already tense table.

"You two have been at each other's throats since we were children, Aemond." You stated plainly, standing up from your seat. "I do not wish to hear of your bickering with him, not at supper." You moved, heading towards the room's entrance. "I've lost my appetite, please excuse me."

You left, moving through the halls and towards Aegon's chambers. It had been your job since you were young to be your uncles' mediator, helping mend, or at least calm them both after their arguments. This one would be no different. You didn't bother knocking on the door once you were at his room, quickly dismissing the guards before stepping in.

He sat at his desk, staring down into a cup of wine with a mix of irritation and what looked to be a hint of hurt on his face as he swirled the dark liquid around in its cup. His deep purple eyes turned upwards to look at you briefly as you entered before returning down, the prince not bothering to react much to your sudden intrusion into his chambers.

"Has anyone ever taught you it's rude to barge into someone else's chambers without knocking first, Lady Velaryon?" He asked, the statement more of a playful jab than a question, even despite his slightly annoyed tone of voice.

"You and Aemond fought, and I hear it involved me, Uncle." You said, skipping straight to the point as you grabbed a spare chair from elsewhere in the room and pulled it up to the desk, sitting next to Aegon. "My husband said you had some 'choice words' regarding him and myself, may I ask what you said?"

Aegon set his cup down, finally looking at you fully. "I was drunk and said some things I should not have said; that is all that happened between him and me." He confessed, and you knew he was only speaking half of the truth, the half you already knew.

"Really? Is that all? Then why have you isolated yourself to your room then?" You pried, determined to get to the bottom of the issue. "What did you say, Aegon?"

Your uncle looked away, refusing to meet your gaze and you two fell into silence for a long moment, the prince trying to decide what he would say. "Do you ever know what our lives would be like if we had been wed to each other? If all the pleading we had done hadn't fallen on the deaf ears of our mothers?" He turned his head back up, looking at you with eyes swirling deep with conflicted emotion.

"Of course I do, Aegon." You answered simply, taking a deep breath. "But fate had other plans for us all, and we must adapt to it. Duty is scarcely something we desire." You felt your heart ache at your admission, the cruel reality of your situation sinking in once more after you'd spent years trying to bury how it made you feel.

"What do you desire?" He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently before he continued. "Are you happy with Aemond? Do you want to be with him? Has your heart begun to yearn for my brother after all these years with him?" Aegon awaited your answer, every second of your silence felt like a lifetime.

"It does not matter what I desire," You finally spoke, removing your hand from his. "I must fulfill my duty as—"

"Fuck duty." He interrupted, tone laced with bitterness. "I asked what you wanted, not what you must." He grabbed his wine, taking a long drink of it before speaking again. "I told Aemond that he didn't deserve you. That's why we argued, sweetling." The last word, filled with hate as it left his lips, felt like a sharp dagger to the chest. "My brother doesn't love you as I do, doesn't understand how much it infuriates me to hear the talk of him neglecting you while claiming to cherish you, his darling wife." Aegon's grip on his cup tightened, fingers digging into the metal.

You stood from your seat, making your way towards the door. "I think you're drunk again, Aegon. I'll see you once you've sobered up and stopped talking nonsense." Before you could leave he stood up quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you back, flipping you around to face him. Your eyes widened as you stared back at him, and your mouth opened to scold him for what he just did.

Before you could take the chance to speak, he kissed you, lips moving with fervor against yours as he poured every emotion he ever felt for you into it. You hesitated before kissing back, melting into his touch as you relaxed, your hands resting on his shoulders as he pulled you closer, arms wrapping around your waist. It was wrong, you knew it, but emotion overpowered logic as you gave into him, tasting the fruity, almost sweet taste of wine on his lips as he kissed you.

"Aegon," You breathed out once you separated, your heart racing in your chest as you stared into his Indigo eyes filled with love and affection only he had ever shown you. You hadn't kissed him since before his wedding to Helaena so many years ago, and doing it once more after so long brought every feeling you had suppressed for him back to the surface.

"I need you to know that I'm not drunk when I say this." He paused, tenderly cupping your face in his hands. "I love you. With every part of my being. I swear it by the Gods." He leaned in further, your lips nearly touching again. "You may be Aemond's by law, but you are mine. We both know it, and we've gone too long denying it. What's stopping us from loving one another behind closed doors? What the rest of our family doesn't know will bring no harm."

You took a shaky breath at the proposition. It was a risky one should you follow through with it, but the risk made it all the more exciting to think about. Being able to be with the one you loved after so long would be worth the sneaking around, the guilt, and the shame.

"I'd kill for you, man or woman. I'd burn our house to the ground, burn the Seven Kingdoms to ash if it meant I'd be with you at the end of it all." His lips pressed against yours once more in another passion-filled kiss. You wanted him, needed him. No man had touched you in so long, not your husband, and not Aegon; you craved more of it, hungered for it like a starved animal staring at its first meal in ages.

You kissed him back with equal desire, moaning against his lips as you led him towards his bed, carefully pushing him down onto the mattress below. You straddled him, pressing up against the growing budget in his breeches as he held your hips, looking up at you with uncertainty, a rare state to see the prince in when with women.

"What's wrong, Aegon? You've bedded many women before. Don't tell me you've grown scared of them now." You teased, hands running over the expensive fabric of his dark forest green tunic.

"I've bedded whores, not the noble lady who I've loved since childhood." He corrected, letting you slip off his shirt and throw it to the stone ground below, leaving his chest bare and free for you to see and drink in the sight of. "Is it so wrong of me to wish to please you properly?"

You chuckled lightly at his words. "You're already doing better than Aemond by spending this time with me. My husband rarely has me in such a position." It was Aegon's turn to chuckle, slipping your gown off your shoulders as he did so. He watched your breasts spill out of your dress, cock hardening even further at the beautiful sight

"Gods, your beauty is unmatched." His hand found your soft breast, kneading it as you moaned lewdly, the sound like music to his ears. "Do you know how long I've yearned to hear those sounds come from you? How many nights I had spent wishing you were the one with me instead of some whore?" He pressed open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your chest, savoring each and every noise that escaped you.

You helped him remove your gown fully, leaving your fully nude figure on full display to your lover. He drank in the sight, the look of you being more fulfilling and delicious than any other person or thing he had ever experienced. You weren't from a brothel, nor were you Helaena or any other woman who had ever been with. You were his first and only love, and here you were in front of him, letting him do to you what he had always desired.

"You're staring, Aegon." You observed, your voice low and sultry, utterly intoxicating.

"What man wouldn't when faced with such a pretty thing?" His hands roamed your body as he smirked.

You pulled off his breeches, letting his cock spring out, the tip already leaking small translucent pearls of precum from the excitement of it all. You bit your lip as you realized how big he was. You'd struggle to take him. You stroked him slowly, bringing your hand up and down his thick length. Aegon watched through half-lidded violet eyes as you touched him, a groan of your name leaving his lips. Then you placed his cock, hard and ready, at your entrance, sinking down onto it, struggling to hold back a loud moan as you did so.

"I've wanted this for so long. I've wanted you." Aegon's hands grabbed at your hips as you began to bring yourself up and down, riding his cock. You felt like no other woman he had ever been with; to him, you were perfection. For the first time in his life he was overwhelmed by sex, the emotions he held for you combined with the feeling of the velvety walls of your cunt wrapped around him combined in a way that had his head blissfully empty except for the thought of you.

"Kiss me." The words sounded more desperate than he intended, but that's what he was: desperate. The prince had never been one to kiss when he did these things, but he had gone years without you, and he'd be damned if he didn't take all you had to offer, savoring it as he did.

You listened to him, leaning down, your body pressing up against his as your lips moved together sloppily. Aegon gripped your hips tighter, beginning to thrust his own upwards, driving his cock deep into you. You whimpered against his lips, trying to meet his movements with yours to get more of him.

"You're going to make me cum." Aegon announced through his groans, unable to last long with how well you were taking him. "I'm going to fill you up, little dove. You want that, don't you? I'll make you mine." You let out a mix between a moan and a whine as his thrusts up into you grew rougher, the sounds of your shared pleasure filling the otherwise quiet room. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, mouth wide open as you failed to do much else other than let him fuck you.

"Fuck! Aegon!" You managed to get out as the tip of his cock grazed your sweet spot, pushing you closer to your impending climax. All it took was one more touch of that same spot, more head-on this time, for you to cum around him, your cunt fluttering with the force of your orgasm. He followed soon after, losing his rhythm before his hips stilled, warm cum coating your insides and spilling out down your thighs.

You slumped over, breathing heavily as you lay next to him, placing your head on his chest as your post-orgasmic haze set it. His fingers combed through your hair, deep violet eyes closing as his lips curled up into a satisfied smile; the silver-haired man being pleasantly exhausted.

"I love you." You spoke softly, breaking the silence. "They say love is where duty ends, Aegon." The prince tucked a stray lock of your hair behind your ear before caressing your cheek.

"That's because love feels a lot better, sweetling. We all indulge despite what's expected of us. Tonight we chose to indulge in each other," he leaned in, a sweet kiss soon finding its way to you. "It's wrong, isn't it? What we've done here. I don't care how wrong things may be, not when you're next to me, warming my bed." He moved on top of you, being to press chaste, loving kisses to your neck. You smiled tiredly, wrapping your arms around him, enjoying the warmth he radiated.

No one would keep you from him, not after tonight. You'd both have to return to your spouses eventually when duty overpowered love, but for now, you were each other's.

When what was expected of you did make its call you separated from Aegon, bathing away the remnants of your night together before leaving his chambers, thankful that the servants who fetched the water didn't pry further. Later on, you found yourself in the library, pretending to read a book while you reminisced about that first kiss with Aegon that started it all between you and him. The sound of shoes stepping against the hard floor drew you out of your thoughts, and you looked up toward the source, finding it to be your mother.

"We need to talk," Rhaenyra said with concern in her voice, making her way to you quickly, a small cup held carefully in her hands. She sat beside you, handing you the cup. You took it, a confused look on your face.

"What's this?" You asked, looking down at the currently unidentified liquid that smelled of tansy and sweet honey.

"I don't know what you've done, what risks you've already taken, but rumors have spread of your infidelity." Your mother explained. "I do not wish to interrogate you, but I have a feeling I already know who it is whom you've spent your time with, and knowing who he is, I know these words are likely more than just gossip spread by those wishing to sully your name."

Your heart sunk at her words, and it was then that you knew what she had handed you. It was moon tea, that's why it smelled of tansy. "Mother, I'm—" She stopped you, placing her hands onto yours, comforting you.

"I know what it's like to choose love over all else, and the dangers which come. You mentioned in passing a few days ago how Aemond hadn't touched you in a long while. He's no fool. He'll know if you fall pregnant that the child isn't his, and I fear what he may do once that realization comes.

You took a deep breath, bringing the cup up to your lips and taking a sip, the taste both bitter and sweet as it reached your tongue. Your mother understood like no other could.

"It is just a precaution, sweet girl. I trust you to be cautious from now on. Duty ends where love starts." She stood up, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You needed your mother in this moment, and here she was. She was right. Duty ends where love starts. That phrase would become your mantra.

[lovingclare]

Sneak Away

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Fem! Sister-wife! Reader

Requested?: No

Summary: There's perks in knowing Maegor's tunnels, and Aegon makes the most of it, by going to you every time the world seemed to turn against him, and tonight, you remind him how good he can be.

Word count: 3.2k

Warning/s: 18+ MINORS DNI!! canon-typical incest and language, smut! piv, unprotected sex, virginity loss, porn w little plot?? help- sub! aegon, dom but virgin! reader (is that a thing or did i make that up), slight angst? hurt/comfort, aegon having a praise kink, possesive aegon, breast play, riding/cowgirl, mutual orgasm, slight breeding kink from aegon, lmk if i missed anything!

Note: mind empty- need aegon- first time writing for him i hope i did okay- i don’t think i was thinking when i was writing this <3 likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are always appreciated!

GIF is not mine, credits to the owner!

Only few knew the hidden pathways hidden within the Red Keep, Maegor’s tunnels, they call it, some say the secret passages were haunted by every stonemason, woodworker, and laborers who participated in building such intricate pathways- only to be ordered to be slain by Maegor, promising that only those of the blood of the dragon would know where every path led, whether it leads out into the streets, or rather a different room in the Red Keep.

For Aegon, he had grown to use these secret pathways for his own escape and enjoyment possibly out in the streets… or mostly to visit his sister-wife at night in her own chambers when she does not sleep in his chambers, using the tunnels to effortlessly keep away from prying eyes and ears. 

You. You were the twin-sister of Helaena, the princesses ever so adored by the realm and yet barely seen out the Red Keep. You and Helaena, much as twins you were, you two had contrasting personalities.

As Helaena liked to keep to herself with her fascination with critters and such, you were more into the knowledge of the realm, nose always buried within a book or always eagerly attending your lessons with the Septa. 

Until you had come of age along with Helaena, wherein your mother, Alicent Hightower had initially proposed Helaena to be wedded to Aegon, in which you did not agree with, having witnessed Aegon’s recklessness and his debauchery, you cared for your twin too much to imagine her with someone like Aegon. 

And therefore you were the one wedded to your older brother, Aegon. Aegon, however, wasn’t also somehow pleased with the notion, he found you utterly annoying, ‘too smart for your own good’ as he could recall your countless banters with one another. 

However, as your marriage came to be, it almost gave you whiplash on how different Aegon had acted before to now. Yes, he despised your marriage, but soon he also found himself stuck with your company whether you both liked it or not.

One night you had found Aegon stumbling into your chambers drunk, of course, you had braced yourself for what was he about to do to you since he was quite unpredictable, but what he did was far more than what you expected.

Instead, he drunkenly blabbered away at his insecurities, of not being enough, of always doing what was expected of him yet your mother had always found ways to call him all sorts of names to his face, and your father the King never even once tried to make a bond with him, when all he ever wanted was to hear just once that he had done well from your mother and father, now all that seems too far within reach as the King’s health was declining. 

That night, you had suddenly understood why Aegon was the way he was. Since then, Aegon has found no judgment with you. Sometimes it was a surprise to find him sober, at your chambers, seeking comfort in your arms. You, his sweet sister, was like a salve, a remedy for it all. 

Aegon still had trouble showing his true emotions verbally, but he always wanted to show you how much he appreciated you, it was even surprising that he had yet to fill your womb with a child, but he often had bought you gifts and little trinkets that reminded him of you, thinking it would be enough to somehow show that he was trying, for you. 

And in turn, you understood, you always knew what to say that had Aegon melting into your arms. 

And that’s when he finally pressed at the stone wall disguised as any other wall within your chambers, the stone gliding easily behind a tapestry on the wall as he stepped in, candles lighting the way as he huffed a breath, finally able to catch some fresh air after being in the narrow passages. Flicking the tapestry back into place, his feet immediately take him to the foot of your bed where your figure lay underneath the blankets.

Aegon felt something stir within him at the sight of you, locks of platinum hair splayed upon your pillows, eyes closed, chest breathing rhythmically as you lay on your side, a strap of your loose nightdress down on one shoulder, your exposed skin seeming to tease him as he stood there dumbfounded for a few moments. 

However, the remnants of the infuriating day he had ground him back to reality as to why he was here, sneaking into your chambers. Aegon found himself sliding underneath the covers behind you, the warmth of you immediately making him sigh, a comfort he had longed for throughout the day, contrast to the chill that had seeped in his bones. 

Slowly, his arm found its way around the curve of your waist, leaning in as he desperately wanted to just nuzzle against you, hot breath fanning on the back of your neck. “Wife…” He breathed softly, not wanting to startle you. He waited for a response, thumb absentmindedly running circles on your abdomen, he should’ve probably let you sleep- he was content with only laying beside you, but a selfish part deep within him wanted you to wake. 

In your sleep, you had already felt the bed dip from behind, stirring as you felt an arm drape around you, the hot whisper on your skin making you finally rouse, shifting as you felt the hold on you tighten as you turned your head, coming to your senses as you blinked traces of sleep from your eyes. 

Registering the presence, your brows knit. “Aegon?”

It wasn’t uncommon for you that he would often find his way into your chambers when he had his days. “Mhm, it’s me.” He replied, now noticing you were awake, he brought his hand back to rest on your waist from behind. 

“What happened?” You ask, as you always did. “I… couldn’t sleep. Mother was being… difficult again.” He responded hesitantly. “Did I wake you? Would you like me to go?” Typical of Aegon to dismiss himself easily when his mind would berate him for seeking comfort.

Aegon was already making the move to sit up and get off your bed when you sleepily turned and tried to grab at his hand or wrist, only to fall short and manage to grab at his tunics, tugging on it. “Hush, stay.” You mumbled and Aegon swallowed.

“Do not think this foolish.”

Slowly then Aegon allowed himself to fall back onto your bed, creaking in response.

Shifting, you layered a pillow behind your back leaning against the headrest, before grabbing Aegon’s arm and tugging him to lay atop you, something Aegon never did before but you tugging took him by surprise, laying on top of you as you looked down at him, his head moving to lay on your chest.

He was about to whine at the feeling of being coddled when his ear picked up on the sound of your steady heartbeat and it was enough to close his mouth shut, seeming to zone out as you slowly raked your fingers through his scalp, adding to the sensation in which Aegon sighed and screwed his eyes shut. 

“I am not good enough.” He murmured. “Never will be.”

“You are, Aegon.” You counter. Aegon huffed onto your chest, the action sending you flushed as his face was directly on your breasts. “You always have the chance to be good, mother does not see it yet but I know you are doing your best.” You continued, ignoring the way your heart began to pick up its pace as Aegon’s hot breath fanned through your nightdress. 

Oh you prayed to the gods he would not notice.

But Aegon clearly did, the thumping of your heart growing against his ear as he shifts his head, craning to look up at you. Your body felt suddenly hot. “You can be good, you are good… the crown is a heavy burden but it has placed itself upon your head, this is your chance to prove yourself.” 

Your words turn to a weak whisper as Aegon’s eyes trailed from your eyes to your parted lips, your chest starting to rise as he spoke whilst his eyes stayed glued to your lips. “You think so, sweet sister?” He asked, now his eyes flickered back to yours and there was a hint of vulnerability and… hunger to them. 

His body pressing against yours did not help as you could feel yourself start to throb, his gaze igniting something primitive within you. You tried to shift, needing friction between your legs- but it made Aegon groan, his gaze dropping momentarily.

Until you had felt something hard pressing against your leg. You swallowed thickly, the need starting to boil within you. You needed him. 

“Aegon…” You broke the silence and he let out a weak hum in response, he doesn’t seem to be doing anything as you felt like you were being consumed from the inside. 

He was holding back, you could feel it. 

Moving your hand, you tilted his face to meet yours, before you had given and leaned in, kissing him sloppily and inexperienced, it made Aegon’s brain shut as his brows knit, eyes closing as he let out a low groan, hand immediately moving to grasp the back of your head. 

Your hands began to roam around him, wanting to feel all of him but he pulled back for air, which you realized you were also out of breath, mind in a daze. 

Aegon’s gaze raked over you, he had held back for so long and this is the first night he was about to have you. Yet he doesn’t want it to be rushed or perhaps take advantage of you in the heat of the moment, his thoughts running as he stared at you.

“Aegon, please.” You said, your sweet tone sounding like the Seven heavens in his ears. 

You were getting increasingly frustrated, making the bold move to pull and push him down onto the bed, Aegon momentarily blinking in surprise, not expecting such an action to come from his sister-wife, taking the control away from him.

And oddly enough, it sent a thrill running down his veins and straight to his cock. 

He liked it. 

You swung your leg over him, straddling him as you could feel his throbbing cock directly against your damp underclothes, rolling your hips which had sent you both moaning at the feeling, Aegon’s hands landing on your hips to keep you still. 

“You don’t- we don’t..” Aegon tried to talk but the view and feel of you on top of him was making that very difficult as of now. 

“I want to.” The firmness in your tone was a contrast to his, Aegon was near to turning putty in your hands and you haven’t even near touched him yet. 

His nod made you move your hands to slowly lift off your nightdress, the moment it hit the floor, revealing your shape to him, no longer hidden by layers of fabrics, it was enough to make Aegon stare in awe. 

You felt hot under Aegon’s gaze as you moved to shield yourself but his hands caught your wrists, stopping as he sat up, making you shift yet still straddle him, his hardness still apparent and warm against your thigh under his tunics. 

“Fuck you’re..heavenly.” Aegon murmured, his hands still holding your wrists loosely but his eyes now drifted down your face to your tits, nipples perked. 

You took the initiative once more, your turn in grabbing his wrists before guiding them to your breasts, his rough palms slowly cupping them making you whimper, jolting and needing more friction as your body moved without you thinking, guiding his hands to cup and squeeze your breasts.

Aegon’s brain finally caught up with him as his hands moved to his own accord, oh you looked and felt heavenly he felt like he was already about to spill himself just by seeing you like this, taking control of him. 

Your hands then moved to his head, grasping and tugging at his hair, making him moan low as you then pulled him to you, wasting no time as Aegon lathered hot open mouthed kisses against your skin, leaving flames in their wake as you sung sweetly on top of him.

His mouth trailed down your neck to finally your breasts as he suckled and licked at your mounds, taking one in his mouth, sucking lewdly as you looked down at him, eyes meeting yours and you felt yourself overcome by the sight, nodding to urge him to keep going.

With a final suck, he pulled back, mouth letting out a pop sound as you shivered as the night breeze cooled his saliva on your breast. 

Moving to help him shrug him out of his tunics, you traced your hands down his torso, Aegon shuddering. “You’re so good.” Your praise was but a thought voiced, yet to Aegon, it had him melting. You can almost see the gears in his brain stop working as you realized this. 

Of course, as your mother had often degraded him most of his life, your father is present but nearly absent in caring for your siblings.

Just an ounce of praise had Aegon craving it like a man parched in the desert, willing to do anything to quench that thirst- to be able to hear you praise him again. Only you. Fuck anyone else. 

It was only you, his sweet sister-wife who mattered, who had always seen him, who always understood him, nobody would come close to you. He damn well would behead a man if one ever had thought of taking you away from him. 

Thank the Gods you married him. 

Leaning in, you peppered kisses onto his face, murmuring phrases all the way that had him grabbing your hips, feeling your soaked cunt rubbing against his stiff cock, sweet maiden juices leaking onto him but he doesn’t enter you. 

His neck craned to give you more access as you kissed him all over, his hands running up and down your sides, wanting to feel and take his time with you even if every fiber of his being cried to fuck you senselessly. 

No, you were in control of him tonight, or for any night that you wished, rather. 

“See how good you are..?” Your voice whispered into his ear, breath fanning stray locks of his platinum hair. Aegon whimpered. Even though you were a virgin and inexperienced, you were coming to learn the gist of it as you had went on… but there were more chances to explore further in the future.

“P-please.” Aegon whined, never in his life he had seen himself begging, yet you had changed all of that. Pulling back, you raked your fingers through his hair again, his head craning back.

“Look at me, Aegon.” Your tone wasn’t even commanding, it was gentle- however his eyes were quick to find yours again. 

You relished the control you had over him- but this was also him being vulnerable. You gave him a small smile as you spoke. “What do you want?” You asked. Aegon breathed and his mouth parts open, a squeak leaving as you also felt the need burning now deep in your stomach, your cunt throbbing. 

“Speak.” You followed, dragging your folds along his length, making you both shudder and for Aegon to grunt, squeezing your hips to halt you in order to clear his mind. 

“You- please- please let me fuck you, let me be inside you.” Aegon rephrased but it made you burn hotter nonetheless. 

If you were right, your hand reached down between your bodies, your soft hands wrapping around his shaft, your soft hands heavenly compared to the times he had touched himself to the thought of fucking you before, which he would not admit even if dared. 

Pre-cum was already leaking from him as he helped you, his own hand coming to guide himself against your folds, his reddened tip rubbing against your clit momentarily that had you clenching from the sensation. 

As he slowly positioned himself to breach you, his eyes found yours, your hands resting on his shoulders as you took a deep breath as his hands rested back onto your sides, rubbing as you slowly sunk down upon him, his cock sliding within you inch by inch, making you cry out as he bottomed fully. 

Aegon never thought he’d had your cunt clenching around him, sucking him in further making him shudder as he whimpered, nearing to burst if he moved further. 

Moving your hips, you slowly started up a rhythm, Aegon’s eyes screwing shut as you began to ride him, hands guiding you but mostly it was you who moved, his grip on your waist was but a grounding sensation for him. It truly felt like he was about to ascend from how good you felt, and you were all his. 

You felt yourself letting out noises you had not imagined before, the sensations of having Aegon sheathed within you was intoxicating, nails digging against his shoulders as Aegon returned his attention to your breasts once more, heightening your pleasure as you arched your back. 

A knot was forming itself in your belly, your muscles beginning to contract as you chanted Aegon’s name like a prayer. “You feel so good, Aegon!” You cry, whining as your hips seem to chase an edge fast approaching. 

“I’m- fuck– not gonna last long-” Aegon murmured now hotly against your neck, guiding you bouncing up and down his cock. “Please, please…” Aegon begged for your orgasm to hit so he could spill within you. 

And it did, making you gasp as euphoria filled your body, sending you shaking as bouts and waves of pleasure overtook you, clenching around Aegon’s cock as your body continued to tremble atop him.

Aegon soon followed as your peak triggered his own, pulsing within you and releasing his seed within you, having him whimpering and panting. You could feel yourself overcome with warmth as you both had come down from your peaks, bodies covered with light sheen of sweat.

You both had stayed there for a while, Aegon still sheathed within you as you both regained your breathing. Looking down at him, you brushed stray platinum locks that matted to his forehead, moving to peck his forehead and his cheeks, Aegon murmuring in turn as he gazed up at your beauty illuminated by stray candles and the moonlight. 

“Thank you.” Aegon rasped, making you smile down at him as you cupped his face, placing a tender kiss to his lips. 

After fixing and rearranging yourselves, not bothering to throw your clothing back on, only the blankets laid over you both as you laid face to face, your head against his chest, curled against him so peacefully. 

You had soon fallen asleep from exhaustion whilst Aegon had lied awake, thumb running over your side before it moved over to your stomach, no doubt both your labor would bear fruit. 

And when it did, Aegon had sworn it upon himself to be the good loving father he never had upon your child, and to be the good king the realm did not think he would be. All because of you.

[lovingclare]

Thy Mission

summary | The lines between desire and duty blur between the Targaryen brothers on their last night before a battle.

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI, oral sex (m), p in v sex, anal, mentions of war, double vaginal penetration, incest, Aemond Fucks™, porn w little plot, mentions of sex work, just pure filth tbh

wordcount | 5.1k

note | this was inspired by Uneasy Lies The Head by @troublesomesnitch! her work is absolutely amazing and i highly recommend for everyone to check them out!

likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated! <3

(dividers by @targaryen-dynasty)

Aemond marched across an array of tents that lined their encampment. He passed horses being fed, blades being sharpened, and fires where the men roasted game for supper. A sneer adorned his lips as he passed by a group of soldiers sat around logs, giggling whores on their laps. How these women managed to follow their army and could stand being around these stinking, grubby men, he knew not the reason. They were at war, and he had no time to indulge in such depravity.

He hastened to reach Aegon’s tent, situated at the far end of the camp. The King’s accommodation was larger than the rest and was well guarded, or rather, it usually was. His Kingsguard were nowhere near their station, making Aemond stop in his tracks to search for any White Cloaks. He found none.

Ever the wary soldier, his hand gripped the hilt of his sword in case of any threat that may jump out of nowhere. Strange sounds came from behind the tarp of his brother’s tent, a bemoaning from Aegon that made Aemond rush in through the flaps of the tent. 

“Aeg– Seven Hells!” Aemond cursed, the sight of the King’s pale arse greeted him as he entered his tent. Aegon’s standing figure barely covered your figure kneeled before him, taking his cock earnestly as he thrusted into your mouth. Groans left the King’s lips, his pace never faltering despite his brother’s intrusion. Aemond lifted a hand to shield the sight from his eyes, quickly turning around to leave, but is stopped.

“Fuck– Brother, wait!” Aegon called out, panting as he chased his release. 

“I can wait outside.”

“Just give me one sec– fuck, that’s it.” Aegon breathed out, praises falling from his lips as you took him further down your throat. The sound of your mouth eagerly sucking his cock filled the room, coupled with the moans falling from the King’s lips. Aemond rolled his eye and doesn’t leave, but instead turned around to face the wall of the tent. The elder chuckled as he turned to the sight of his brother’s back. Fucking prude.

The intrusion and the feeling of having an audience drove Aegon closer to his release. His hips picked up its pace, his cockhead hit the back of your throat brutally almost to the point of gagging you. You whimpered around his length, tongue pressed on the underside of his cock as you fondled his stones.

Breathy moans grew louder as he gripped your hair, rather exaggerating for his audience of one. His balls tightened at the thought of cumming while his brother watched, looking back to see if Aemond had turned around. He had not. As he approached his end, Aegon took his cock out of your mouth and tugged at it furiously. Coughing lightly from the assault on your throat, you hastened to free your breasts from your shift, presenting it to your King to accept his seed, just like he liked it. Your jaw fell agape as Aegon’s cock spurted his white, hot release, painting your tits. A final groan left his lips, before stepping away from you.

“What is it, brother?” Aegon asked after a moment, chest still panting. 

“Cole needs your input on th-”

“Turn around and face your King when you speak.” The elder ordered. Aemond gritted his teeth, sighing in exasperation as he turned around to face his brother. He is met with the sight of you, still on your knees, and Aegon’s glistening cock that started to soften. He is granted a better view of you as his brother walked away to fetch a cloth.

One amethyst eye fell on your chest, the royal seed still dripping around your mounds, some even had trickled down to the skin still covered by your shift. His cock stirred in his trousers at the sight, gulping at the flame that started to ignite in his belly. Tearing his gaze from your breasts, his eye flickered to your face. Your eyes met, and you gave him a meek smile. 

With a rag in hand, Aegon returned with a smirk on his face at his brother’s hungry gaze on you. His softened cock swayed as he walked, tossing you the clean cloth to wipe yourself before approaching the serving table where a jug of wine and clean glasses sat. He poured a cup of red, taking a small swig before handing it to you, which you accepted with a gracious smile.

“So…” Aegon spoke, tearing Aemond’s attention away from following your lips as you sipped your wine. “Is something the matter?” He asked as he began to dress.

Aemond cleared his throat, before meeting Aegon’s eyes. The tips of his ears warmed up at the amused look on Aegon’s face, no doubt having caught him staring at you unabashedly. 

“Cole requires your presence in the council, your grace. The plans need your approval before the move on the morrow.” The younger prince informed him. Aegon let out a groan at his words, rolling his eyes as Aemond gave him a stern look.

“You know of these plans, yes?” The elder asked. You rose from your place on the ground to assist him with putting on his doublet.

“Of course.”

“Do they seem acceptable to you?” The king asked once more. Aemond clenched his fists as he tied them around his back, his patience was running thin at his brother’s lack of urgency. “I think we have favorable circumstances.”

“Then why do you need my approval?”

“Because you’re the fucking King.” Aemond snapped. Your eyes shifted warily between the brothers as they stared at each other, fingers hurrying to finish securing the last clasp on the King’s doublet. Aegon’s lips quirked upwards, which caused Aemond’s nostrils to flare in annoyance. Your hands smoothed down his chest as you finished, stepping off to the side as they left wordlessly. 

As the brothers left, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in. A thickness in the air dissipated from the tent with their departure, a blazing tension that can burn a mere lowborn like you, but one only dragons could handle. You had never seen such fire between two people, especially not in brothers. Curiosity sparked within you, an eagerness to witness what these Targaryens must get up to, or if they had acted upon these desires at all.

“Does your whoring know no bounds, brother? Even at war?” Aemond berated as the brothers made their way to where their council waited. His longer legs made for bigger strides, Aegon having to walk faster to keep up with the younger, grumbling under his breath.

“That is exactly the point, brother. We face the possibility of dying at any given moment. Would you rather die having never known the pleasure of having your cock sucked?” Aegon retorted, earning a scoff from the other silver-haired prince in return. 

Aemond’s had his cock sucked before, of course. He’s fucked through young ladies and servants at court almost as much as Aegon had. As much as his brother thought him a blushing prude, he was still a man who had needs. He just did a better job in keeping his head in authority over his cock, and his… endeavors kept within the confines of his chambers.

The pair paid no attention to the people that bowed and greeted them as they passed, and continued their path to where Cole awaited them in the tent located at the center of camp. As the brothers approached, one of the men standing guard lifted the tarp to let them through.

“You know, if you ever decided on getting off your high horse and fucking live a little, I am more than happy to share,” Aegon suggested, his tone teasing as the back of his hand slapped the one-eyed prince’s firm shoulder. Long silver tresses whipped across his face as Aemond turned back to him briskly before he could react.

“Enough.” The younger hissed, before turning back around to dip through the tent's entrance. Aegon let out a cackle at his brother’s dramatics, following after him.

“Deny yourself all you want, brother, but I know you love a good pair of tits.”

At the hour of the owl, Aemond was ordered to the king’s tent. For a pressing matter of the utmost discretion, the squire had said. His tent was right beside Aegon, and he knew not the reason why the fucker couldn’t have made the short walk if the matter was so urgent. 

Nevertheless, the prince made his way to his brother’s pavilion, clad in only his cotton tunic and breeches, ducking through the canvas to enter. There was no Aegon in sight, however, Aemond was met with the sight of you kneeled on the cot, leaning on your elbows with your arse on display. His eye widened as your eyes met, watching as you scrambled to cover your bottom half and sat up. 

“My prince!” You greeted him, cheeks flushing red. Aemond’s eye trailed over your garments. A thin, almost translucent, white fabric covered your front, tied behind your back by a golden-colored rope. Your back was exposed, and the fabric dipped down to drape over your rear. He could see your breasts through the glow cast by the oil lamps scattered around the vicinity, the shadows emphasizing the way your nipples pebbled in the cold night air.

“Where is my brother?” He asked, tone stern as he clasped his hands behind his back. His discerning eye caught the open vial of oil on the wooden table beside the cot.

“H-his grace’s attention was needed elsewhere, my prince. Something about feeding his dragon.” You stuttered, growing anxious as the prince closed his eye and sighed. He turned to leave the tent, but your sweet voice called out to him.

“He should return any moment.” You said, getting up from the cot to stand. “Would you like a cup of wine as you wait?” You offered, hands wrung together as he stared at you.

You felt like shrinking under his sharp gaze, gooseflesh formed on your skin as his pupil seemed to dilate at the sight of you. He let out a hum and nodded, stepping back into the tent. You hastily poured him a cup of wine, reaching out to offer it to him as he sat on the edge of Aegon’s cot. A gasp threatened to leave your lips when his warm hand covered your smaller one as he took the cup. It is raised to his thin lips, tongue darting out to lick at them as his throat bobbed when he swallowed. 

“Where are you from, girl?” The prince asked, another hum leaving his lips as you told him of your homeland. You watched as his veiny hand traced the embellishments adorning the shiny cup, long fingers trailed along the rim. “You are a long way from home.” He commented.

“Indeed, my prince.” You responded, smiling bashfully. You had been on your journey to work in a brothel in the Street of Silk when word had reached you and the girls you traveled with about the King’s army taking camp not too far from where you were. All of you made your way over to the encampment, eager to provide your services to the soldiers weary from battle. There was no doubt most of you hoped to be called upon by one of the royals who resided at the site, well aware of the King’s proclivities. Tonight, it seemed, was your lucky night.

“I imagine a tent in the middle of the woods is far from the comforts of your own home, my prince.” You mentioned, boldly taking a step closer to his seated form. His head leaned up to look at your face, his eyelid hooded as he regarded you.

“There is little comfort to be expected during war.” He uttered, earning a nod from you.

“Still, solace can still be sought out anywhere, should you look hard enough.” You remarked, a smooth tone in your words. His knees had bumped lightly into the outside of your thighs as you stepped into his space, looking down at him with a seductive smile. Aemond’s hand twitched when he felt an urge to touch you, causing him to grip the cup in his hand tightly. “I could provide that for you… if you would like.” You suggested, voice dropping to a whisper. 

His eye darkened at your words, igniting a spark of excitement within you. You stared at each other for a moment longer, your heart thumping loudly against your chest in anticipation. The prince dropped the cup of wine to the grass with little regard, before gripping your hips to pull you into his lap. 

You climbed onto his lap eagerly, thighs caging his own. His lips smashed onto yours in a frenzy of teeth, tongue, and spit. You moaned against his lips as his hand gripped the hair on the back of your head. His free hand slithered around your lower back, pushing your weight down onto his growing bulge. Your hips ground down on him with expertise, fingers lifting the hem of your garments to show him your center. His jaw dropped ever so slightly at the sight of your cunny humping on his clothed cock, your essence started to smear on the dark fabric of his trousers as your hips circled his lap. Pink lips attached to the pale skin of his neck, licking and biting on his flesh. You preened at the sounds of his low grunts in your ear and the appreciative smack he delivered to your rear before squeezing it.

Large calloused hands trailed the smooth expanse of your back, the warmth radiating from him a satisfying contrast from the chill night air. His fingers reached the knot on the back of your neck, toying with it.

“Take it off.” Aemond commanded, tone stern and commanding. You immediately obeyed, rising from his lips to stand, before reaching back to undo the tie holding up your garment. The thin fabric dropped into a puddle of white on the floor, your flesh bared to the prince’s eye. A small smirk rose on your lips as you watched how his gaze ran down your body, delighted at the hungry look that clouds his purple eye. You turned around and bent over, giving him a view of your glistening pink folds. 

Aemond could feel the throbbing in his trousers at the sight of your cunny, a warmth spread from his chest as the urge to ravish you threatened to overtake him. What caught his eye, however, is the way your puckered hole also gleamed in the warm glow of the tent. His mind recalled the way you had been on your knees when he had entered, as well as the vial of oil that sat open beside you. He all but salivated at the mental image of you stretching your tight back hole as you waited for Aegon.

The younger prince always had a bad habit of wanting whatever his older brother was given– the crown, the Conqueror’s sword, and the glory that came with sitting on the throne. If he had the chance he would snatch everything that wastrel was freely given, he was more deserving of it after all.

And now Aegon wasn’t here, and Aemond would be a fool to not claim the delectable morsel of flesh before him. 

He stood from the cot and threw you onto the feather mattress, ordering you to get on your knees. You wordlessly obliged, excitement pooling in your belly at the younger prince’s dominant nature. The king often had contrasting personalities in bed, you had discovered, depending on his mood. There were some moments when he would take and take all that you could give, treating you as a mere hole to fuck, but oftentimes he would be a babbling, pathetic mess, and you would have to soothe and take care of the tearful man that suckled on your teat like a baby lamb. You enjoyed your time with the King, but the dark look in Prince Aemond’s eye as he manhandled you as if you were a sack of grain exhilarated you, causing your core to clench around nothing. He grabbed the vial of oil from the side table, before untying his breeches as he took his place behind you. Your position prevented you from getting a view of his cock, but you heard the slick sounds of his hand slathering oil on his shaft, and a few sighs falling from his lips. A breath hitched in your throat as you felt his cockhead align with your hole, a whine falling from your lips as he started to breach.

Aemond cursed at the way your tight ring of muscles gripped his cock. It took almost all of his restraint to not push into you in one motion, your walls clenching as you struggled to take his length. It seemed to take forever for him to bottom out, more whines fell from your lips as he still slowly thrusted into you inch after inch. Though you haven’t caught a glimpse of his length, you were sure he was longer than Aegon. 

“Ha, so fucking tight…” Aemond cursed. His hands squeezed the plump flesh of your arse, hips still unmoving as he gave you a moment to adjust. As he felt your hole start to relax, your hips wiggled against him slightly to urge him to move. His hips started to set a steady pace, a groan fell from his lips as he felt every ridge of your walls.

“Here I thought a whore like you would be looser than a worn-out glove. Isn’t that what you were doing when I came in, hm? Stretching out this tight little hole of yours?” Aemond questioned, earning only a moan from you in response. A dark chuckle fell from his lips, before delivering another smack to your rear.

“I haven’t started fucking you yet, girl. Have you gotten drunk on my cock already?” Your cheeks burned at his words, your hands fisted the soft sheets as the prince thrusted deep into you. Aemond’s hips started to pick up their pace, his thrusts growing harder and harder. The sounds of his flesh slapping against yours started to fill the vicinity along with your moans, no doubt heard by anyone close enough to the King’s tent. The silver-haired prince continued to ram into you, his own moans of delight left his lips as he threw his head back in pleasure. 

More slaps to your ass caused the flesh to sting, and the soft rub from his hands soothed the reddening flesh. Tears started to gather in the corner of your eyes, sobs fell from your lips when Aemond pulled on your hair to lift your head back. You felt his bare chest press to your back, unaware of when he removed his tunic. The weight of his warm body on yours was a welcome sensation. His lips positioned right next to your ear, biting at your lobe before whispering.

“Touch yourself. Go on, show me how you cum with my cock in your tight hole.” He ordered you, warm breath fanning the side of your face as he spoke. Your fingers immediately fell on your pearl, urgently rubbing circles on the nub to hurl you closer to your release. Aemond grunted as your walls close in around his length, making it almost too tight for him to continue thrusting into you. Your moans increased in pitch as the coil in your belly threatened to snap, uncaring of whoever might hear you. A particularly harsh thrust from Aemond threw you over, a long whine escaped your lips as your juices gushed out of your empty core.

The prince continued to fuck you through your orgasm, thrusts still unrelenting as he chased his own release. A heat licked at the base of Aemond’s spine, crawling upwards as he neared his end. He was so close, your spasming walls pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“What do we have here?” An amused voice spoke, cutting through the cloudy daze both you and the prince found yourself in. Aemond grunted in annoyance, hips stilling at the sight of his brother stood with a devilish smile on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” The younger seethed, cock still buried in your hole as he regarded Aegon. The entrance of the tent faced his blindside, making him unaware of his brother’s arrival, nor of how long he had been watching them.

“Long enough to see how much you have been enjoying yourself. Please, brother, carry on. Do not let my presence hinder you.” Aegon urged on, stepping into the pavilion, the scent of smoke following him. He shot you a wink when your eyes meet, before walking over to the serving table to pour himself some wine. The high that was close to washing over Aemond had died down at his brother’s intrusion, and if it weren’t for your hips wiggling against his and your shining eyes staring back at him, he would have left and brought himself to release in the privacy of his tent. Keeping his eye on you, the prince tried his hardest to ignore the sound of Aegon moving around behind him.

It wasn’t long until he was lost once more in the sweet sounds that fell from your lips, uncaring about his brother’s eyes on his back as the coil in his belly tightened again. He clenched his eye shut, focusing on the delicious sensation of your ridged walls. When he opened his eye, Aemond was taken aback to see Aegon, somehow already naked, directing his cock to your lips.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The younger snapped. Aegon doesn’t stop despite his brother’s annoyance, sighing as you started to suck on his cock.

“Oh please, Aemond, she has enough holes for us to share. She’ll be happy to have both our cocks.” Aegon scoffed, his hips setting their pace. “Wouldn’t you, darling?” He cooed, caressing the back of your head as you nodded at him as much as you could, whimpering.

Aemond’s eye fell on the sight of Aegon’s cock disappearing into your mouth, his brother’s stomach tightening. The tips of his ears flushed red as a spark ignited in him that made his cock throb, one he convinced himself was from the squeeze you gave him. He tore his eye away from the sight of you and Aegon, pulling out of your hole with a sigh of frustration. Aemond had started to tuck his still-hard cock back into his trousers when Aegon stopped him.

“W-where are you going?” His brother asked, breathless. The younger only stared at him, observing how Aegon’s face contorted in pleasure when you started to fondle his balls. Forcing himself to withdraw from your mouth, the King turned to face Aemond.

“Our father and uncle must have shared women all the time, Aemond. Don’t be such a priss.” Aegon remarked, causing his brother to scoff. “Come on, you haven’t even tried her cunt yet. It is heavenly!” He encouraged, gesturing to you. Still on your knees, you turned to meet Aemond’s gaze, giving him an encouraging smile. His eye falls on your dripping cunny, the flames of his desire being stoked once more.

You turned around to lay on your back, spreading your legs wide for your prince. Leaning on your elbows, it was then you finally got a good look at Aemond’s cock. It was long, as you expected, and veiny. His cockhead blushed a deep red, the slit dripping a clear liquid. The sight made you gulp as another gush of arousal dripped from your core. You looked between the two men, assessing their sizes. Aemond had the length, while Aegon had more girth.

The prince looked at you, then at Aegon, who slowly stroked his cock while looking back at him.

Fuck it.

The younger prince pulled his trousers down, stepping out of them before gripping your thighs, pressing them to your chest. A gasp left your lips in surprise as he enters in one swift motion, the intrusion giving you little time to adjust to his impressive length. Immediately, he fucked you with an animalistic pace. There was a sense of urgency in his thrusts, having been denied his release twice because of Aegon’s presence. Moans openly fell from your lips at the way his tip kissed your cervix deliciously, another wave of release drawing closer with each thrust. Before you could react, a hand grips the side of your face, the elder turning you to his cock once more. He thrusted into your mouth, resuming his earlier pace as you sucked on his length. The King threw his head back as your moans vibrated around his cock, sending a spark of pleasure through his veins. The two silver-haired men chased their release, both equally unrelenting in their thrusts. However, you were the first to break among the three of you. Your thighs spasmed as your core clenched, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Aemond’s cock continued to drive into you as a broken moan fell from your cock-filled mouth when you spill around his length. He moaned as you pulsed around him, his long-awaited climax starting to wash over him like the tide. The prince pulled out of you in haste, furiously tugging at his shaft, spurting hot seed onto your stomach as he groaned in delight. 

Seeing his younger brother spill his seed triggered the older Targaryen’s release. With his eyes locked onto the way Aemond’s cockhead let out spurts of cum, Aegon spilled his own royal seed onto your breasts with a curse. You moaned at the warm sensation of their seeds painting your flesh, turning to look at the two royals who were catching their breath. 

Their cocks were still hard, which meant there was still more to come. Another spark of arousal coursed through you, making you clench your thighs together. The two brothers met each other’s gazes, the air shifting into something different as their eyes met. Aemond felt a strange feeling in his chest, unable to tear his gaze away from his brother’s flushed expression.

With his eyes still on his younger brother, Aegon ordered you, “Why don’t you ride my brother’s cock, darling?”

Both you and Aemond settled into position at the King’s authoritative tone. The prince sat on the edge of the cot, gripping your waist as you aligned yourself above his cock. A sharp inhale left the both of you as you sank onto his length, your core still sensitive from your last peak. You started to ride his cock, his hands guiding you up and down. Aemond was tantalized by the sight of your tits bouncing in his face. They were still covered in Aegon’s seed, though the prince paid it no mind as he took one of your breasts into his mouth. The cum tasted salty in his mouth, though he continued to suck on your teat while burying down the shame building in his consciousness. Aemond could sense his brother approaching the two of you, hard cock sitting heavy in his hand. Aegon’s hand urged you to lean forward, causing Aemond to lean back onto his elbow as your hips stilled momentarily. You felt Aegon’s cockhead run down your puckered hole, expecting him to claim it. But before you could react, Aegon started to breach your already full cunt.

“Your grace, wai– Oh!” You squealed, the sensation taking you by surprise. You had never felt this full before, and the stretch made you bite your lips as you struggled to take both cocks. Aemond was equally caught by surprise, his grip on your hips tightening as you clenched. When Aegon had managed to insert his cock into you fully, you clung onto Aemond’s shoulders at the overwhelming feeling. The two Targaryens started to thrust into you, finding a uniform rhythm.

With a whine, you wrapped your arms around Aemond’s neck, pressing your front, still sticky with both their seeds, against his firm chest.

With your head buried into his shoulder, Aemond had a clear view of his brother’s face. Purple eyes met, sparkling in the warm glow of the pavilion. Aegon let out a small moan, brows furrowed as his hips continued their ministrations. His eyes fell onto Aemond’s lips as his brother bit them, biting back a grunt of pleasure. The King’s head ducked down closer to his brother’s face, with the intent of capturing his lips, but the prince turned his head to the side in avoidance. Aegon ignored the slight pang in his chest at Aemond’s rejection, turning his gaze instead to the sight of your cunt taking both their cocks.

The underside of their shafts rubbed together, sending a delicious spark of pleasure that licked at the base of Aemond’s spine with a familiar warmth. Shifting his weight to one elbow, the prince pistoned his hips into you roughly. You were far gone, drooling onto his shoulder as your jaw fell slack, uncontrollable moans and whines coming out of you. 

Without warning, your third release washed over you. Goosebumps rose on your flesh at your most intense climax yet, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. Your core compressed both cocks together even tighter, which caused both men to grunt in your ear. Black spots covered your vision, mind far from earth as they chased their release. Aegon was the first to break, his release overwhelming him, making him double over. The elder gripped onto his brother’s shoulder for stability, accidentally gripping some of his brother’s long tresses as he spurted his seed into you.

When Aegon pulled out, Aemond ground his feet, thrusting up into you as he chased his own end. You had gone limp in his arms, but your core still pulsated around his cock. With your body fully laid on him, your pearl rubbed on the base of his cock. The friction sent you into overdrive, triggering another orgasm that prompted Aemond’s. The prince couldn’t resist the loud groan that left his lips as he spurted another round of his seed into you.

He could feel the top of his head buzz at the aftermath of his climax, laying there for a moment with you still draped on top of him like a blanket. 

After gathering his bearings, Aemond carefully laid you on the cot. A hiss left both of you as he pulled out, the mixture of the brothers’ seed spilling out of you. You laid there on your stomach, eyes closed as your mind floated away. One of them, you weren’t sure who, wiped you clean. You let out a hum as a sign of gratitude, dozing off almost immediately from exhaustion.

Aemond wordlessly dressed while Aegon settled into his cot beside you. He spared your blissed out figure one last look before moving to leave.

“Good night, brother.” Aegon called out to him, prompting Aemond to stop and look back at him. The two silver-haired men locked eyes once more, the strange feeling in Aemond's chest returned as he looked into his brother's round orbs. Pursing his lips, Aemond gave his brother a nod of acknowledgment before turning to leave.

On the morrow, they shall ride together at the head of their army. The memories of this night shall remain unspoken of as they charge forward together in battle, presenting a united front.

[lovingclare]

PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes. 

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady. 

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.” 

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further. 

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.” 

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be. 

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault. 

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.” 

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long. 

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze. 

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care. 

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you. 

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-” 

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!” 

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment. 

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.” 

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother. 

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you. 

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?” 

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well. 

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother. 

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you. 

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.  

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?” 

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings. 

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him. 

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant. 

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all. 

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother. 

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.” 

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room. 

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.  

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo. 

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck. 

And, in many ways, you hate it. 

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard. 

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself. 

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind. 

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol. 

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight. 

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest. 

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too. 

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors. 

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball. 

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air. 

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you. 

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips. 

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life. 

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear. 

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table. 

“No!” 

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck. 

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?” 

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table. 

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished. 

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary. 

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?” 

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different. 

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid. 

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!” 

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?” 

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.” 

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent. 

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence. 

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?” 

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe. 

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.” 

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-” 

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,” 

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too. 

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!” 

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh. 

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.” 

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising. 

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.” 

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?” 

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.” 

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times. 

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into. 

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel. 

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.” 

“You could.” 

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise. 

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.” 

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth. 

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-” 

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.” 

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another. 

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,” 

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.” 

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?” 

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure. 

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.” 

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you. 

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want. 

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon. 

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into. 

That, for him, it had always been you. 

“Aegon, I-” 

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.” 

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions. 

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it. 

“You’re… generous.” 

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon. 

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.” 

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self. 

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.” 

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression. 

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.” 

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.” 

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.” 

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.” 

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.” 

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age. 

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?” 

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.” 

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin. 

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.” 

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.” 

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice. 

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

[lovingclare]

Reading

Summary: You discover that your husband has been practicing his High Valyrian

Content: SFW, angst, fluff, insecurity, making out, neglect (Viserys), self-harm (fingernail picking), suggestive themes

Words: 1.0K

You could hear Aegon mumbling something to himself as you entered the small council chamber. “Good morrow, husband,” you said, smiling at him. To your surprise, he quickly flipped a book closed and turned it over, rising from where he had been seated at the head of the table and moving towards you. “Were you reading?” you asked, pleasantly surprised. With the exception of erotic literature, Aegon usually loathed books. 

“No,” Aegon said quickly, a blush coloring his cheeks a lovely red. “I’m not Aemond or Daeron. There are better ways for me to spend my time.” He looked at you through hooded eyes, his lips curling into a smile as he brought his hands to your waist. “For example,” he murmured, “I could have you on this table.” 

You cupped his face as you kissed him, warm streaks of arousal coursing through your body and pooling in your stomach. Even as desire threatened to cloud your mind, you found yourself wondering what he had been reading. Still, regret seared in your chest as you gently pulled your lips away from his own. “That book,” you began, your voice wavering when Aegon quickly began to leave a searing trail of kisses along the column of your neck. “What is that book?” You had initially assumed that it was an erotic text, but his aversion to discussing it led you to suspect that he deemed it too explicit to discuss offhandedly. 

Aegon gently nipped at the soft flesh at the base of your neck, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Nothing with which you need concern yourself,” he said lightly. 

You moaned quietly as his hands roamed all over your body, copping handfuls of your tits and ass. Your body screamed at you to surrender, to abandon your query and let him consume you until you knew nothing but him. After a long moment in which you very nearly gave in, you tore yourself away from your husband’s grasp and hurried over to the book he had left atop the table. Aegon followed you quickly, hopelessly attempting to snatch the leather-bound tome from your hands. You opened the text, expecting something enticing and extraordinarily explicit, and frowned at the symbols which held no meaning to you. “Is this High Valyrian?” 

Aegon fidgeted at your side, picking at the beds of his thumbnails. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” You glanced at him, watching carefully as his face flushed and he looked away. “I stole it from Aemond so I could watch the uptight twat get upset about losing it,” he blustered. 

You smiled thinly, setting the book down and gently taking Aegon’s hands in your own. He could claim whatever he wanted, but you knew your husband better than he evidently believed. “Were you reading? What is it about?” 

He slowly met your eyes, a hollow look in his gaze. “It is a dragon history. I think.” You squeezed his hands, tears burning your throat as you saw the shame on his face. He sighed, his shoulders sagging as he glanced at the book. “It took me an hour to read one page. I’m fucking hopeless.” He laughed bitterly. “I bet Aemond read the whole thing in an hour.” 

Your heart felt like it was breaking as you pulled him into your arms, holding his body flush against your own as sobs wracked his form. “Your brother spends little time on anything that isn’t reading or swinging a sword,” you said gently. “It is alright that you do not share the same interests.” 

“He honors our family,” Aegon mumbled into your neck. “He ought to be the firstborn.” 

You gently ran your fingers through his blond locks. “Yet he is not, and he accepts this, though he would be dead before admitting it. He may desire the crown, but your brother is fiercely loyal to you and will be at your side when the moment comes.” 

Aegon sighed. “What a complicated prick.” 

You laughed. “He seeks the same acceptance and recognition that you so often search for.” You slowly moved out of your husband’s embrace, smiling at him as you wiped the tears off of his cheeks. “Now, have you been working on your High Valyrian?” His eyes flickered to the tops of his boots as he nodded. “And do you wish to continue to do so?” 

Aegon considered your words carefully. “I think so,” he said after a moment. “I figured I could teach myself. That’s what Aemond did, since Viserys never bothered to even offer to help.” His lower lip quivered as he continued. “I never wanted to learn it because I was afraid that it would make me more like my father.” 

“You could never be that disgrace of a man.” You scowled. “And you should not deprive yourself on that account.”

“I suppose I will enjoy cursing out Aemond without Mother knowing,” Aegon mused. He smiled. “And I believe I am not entirely hopeless. Sunfyre seems to understand me.” 

You gently kissed his cheek. “Of course he does. Aemond may ride the largest dragon in the world, but your bond with Sunfyre is something unique and impressive.” 

“Do you really believe that?” Aegon asked quietly. 

You nodded. “With all of my heart.” 

He kissed you gently, a tender contrast to his usual intensity. When he pulled away after a long moment, he smiled in the rare way of his, his eyes bright and his cheeks lightly flushed. “I love you.” 

Your cheeks burned pleasantly as warmth bloomed in your chest. “And I love you.” 

He contemplated your words for a moment, then grinned shyly. “Avy,” he hesitated, then continued, “jorrāelan. Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“I suppose that I can infer what that means,” you said, taking Aegon’s hand and leading him towards the doors as you picked up the book. Before you left the room, you squeezed his hand gently. “Should you ever desire any assistance, I will do what I can for you.” 

Aegon pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Thank you, my love.” 

[lovingclare]

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐇, 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐄.

⠀ཾ༵ 𑁍┆ aegon ii targaryen x wife!reader.

SYNOPSIS: in the wake of his burning, aegon’s recovery is marked by rage and insecurities. he pushes you away, but it is your comforting embrace that he desires above all else.

anonymous request.

{ FORMAT: one-shot — requested by anon.

{ WORD COUNT: 7.4K.

{ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), hurt/comfort, post rook’s rest aegon, aegon isn’t a good person but he’s tormented, unstable marriage, talk of insecurities, wound/scar descriptions, p in v sex, unprotected sex, gentle sex, body worship (m & f receiving), lots of kissing & comfort/reassurance, very desperate aegon, begging, sub-ish aegon, reader is on top, riding/cowgirl, mutual orgasm, fingering (fem!rec), soft ending + aftercare

{ AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is my first time writing for Aegon, so please be gentle + any feedback/critique on his character is appreciated! He’s quite difficult to write for. Either way, I absolutely loved writing this, and I hope that you all enjoy it, too! As always, thank you for your continued love & support. ❤️

𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞. It spread its blazing roots to those cast within it, leaving them hideously scarred or deformed, or perhaps leaving them with nothing left at all.

Grand Maester Orwyle had said that your husband may never walk again — that he may never draw breath again.

The harrowing memory of soot-stained knights hauling your husband in on nothing more than a swath of linen tied to sticks, placing him gently onto your marital bed had haunted you for several weeks since its occurrence. You could recall the pungent scent of charred flesh, the ragged rasps of Aegon’s breathing, the labor and sweat of Maesters working tirelessly to save him.

It was the labored wheeze of his breathing that continued to linger within the recesses of your mind, a sound so hoarse and weak that you wondered if he would survive. Watching your husband become a shell of his former self was never pleasant — you wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, even your worst enemy.

Aegon showed a resilience that few thought him capable of — the will to survive, to endure and spite his brother served him well. Even if each breath made him ache and each step had rattled his bones, he continued to progress, showing an astounding level of improvement in a short amount of time.

Fire was the end of all things, but not for him.

The observant gazes of those denizens dwelling within the Red Keep often looked upon Aegon with despair, and perhaps pity — it was a pity that he despised, one that made him quiver with rage. He had been made a cripple by his brother, an undesirable.

No one would want him now — not even you, his resplendent wife, a dutiful creature who had solemnly stood by his side, even after his numerous sins he committed against you. He was burnt and ugly, half of his face marred by a web of scars, ear twisted, silvery hair missing on part of his skull.

It was contempt that fueled him now, and he continued to play the part of a wounded, forgetful dog whenever Aemond was near, but in the sanctity of his chambers, he cursed his brother to whatever Gods would hear him.

If they heard him at all.

With each passing day, Aegon regained strength, yet he used a cane to aid in his unsteady gait. He rarely emerged from his chambers, not wanting to be looked upon as if he were some wounded animal in-need of coddling. Wallowing within his own misfortune became commonplace.

You visited him each day when he was still unconscious, sitting by his bedside, holding his hand within yours, yet Aegon had convinced himself that you no longer loved him. What woman would sensibly love him, after everything he’d done? If you were intelligent, you would dissolve your marriage and find a new lover, cast him into the shadows where he belonged.

Aegon had forbidden you to see him for weeks now, likely out of his own fear of rejection, or seeing the horrified look on your face with his own eyes. Orwyle spoke of your tenderness, how you never left his side when he lay bedridden — he could scarcely fathom it, if he were honest with himself.

The evening was a dour one in King’s Landing, marked by the encroaching threat of war, and supposed riots that had broken out across the city. Aegon sometimes laughed to himself — Aemond never cared about the smallfolk nor their desires, and his former hand had discouraged him from catering to those less fortunate.

It gave him some twinge of satisfaction, knowing that he wasn’t that stupid — not as dull and thick-headed as so many believed him to be. The burden of being King had been forced upon him, even when he never wanted it, and so he had no choice but to simply adapt.

He molded himself to a role that never belonged to him anyway, attempting to fit himself into a puzzle that he was never in to begin with.

Acceptance — he had come to realize that perhaps, unseen forces had tarried and toiled to put him on a Throne that wasn’t his birthright. Even then, Aegon was still the King — but a broken one. Who would ever look to a shattered King for guidance, or to lead them?

Dusk blanketed the city, casting its shadow over the Red Keep, a starless sky — it was instead marked by the black haze of clouds that concealed all, even the moonlight. The Keep itself seemed wrought with tension, one that threatened to snap at any moment.

With Aemond on some warpath, the smallfolk calling for blood, and his own mother dismissed from the Small Council, part of him simply thrived within the chaos, the mess made by his younger brother. It was satisfying to know that even he was not fit to rule — not like he imagined himself to be.

His walk around the corridors had been cut short when he caught a glimpse of Aemond, with Orwyle taking him back to his chambers. Aegon could walk without assistance, yet the distance was never one of any merit.

Much of his unoccupied moments were spent drowning in Dornish Red, or perhaps the most surprising thing of all, reading. He was never the studious child — he preferred merriment and whoremongering over the study of High Valyrian and the histories. Being gnarled like this had forced his hand — perhaps he could still become a learned man.

The Kingsguard he had appointed were gone, sent to join the Night’s Watch or beheaded for insubordination — he had no friends here, nothing left except himself and his mind, still perfectly intact. Now, Aegon intended to sharpen what was left of it, if he could in such a short amount of time.

He spent many of his days in fear — fear of Aemond poisoning his drink or slithering into his chambers like the fanged viper that he was to torment him, or perhaps stick Aegon’s Dagger into his chest. There was time left still for his mad cunt of a brother to finish what he’d started.

As the doors to his chambers rattled, Aegon immediately grabbed the shortsword he kept alongside his cane, breathing becoming strained and heavy. “Who is it?” He barked, palm planted against the sturdy mahogany of his large table.

“The Queen, your Grace.” Ser Belgrave, one of the last decent Kingsguard left in the Red Keep, opened the door just enough for you to see your husband, alive and conscious. He stood watch for a beat, and then closed the doors behind him, leaving you alone with Aegon.

Aegon didn’t know what to say — he was rageful and bitter, and having you here to gawk at him did nothing to quell those feelings. He did admire you from across the room, taking in the plane of cerulean silk you wore, shrouded by a pale robe. Your eyes were indiscernible — he could not tell how you felt from where he sat.

You were, perhaps, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon — and he had seen so many. He recalled when he first saw you in the Grand Sept in your wedding gowns, so shy and saccharine, like the first warmth of springtime. It wasn’t a union he cared for or desired, but duty demanded that he wed you, and you would give him heirs.

So much of his time was wasted in the arms of whores who cared for nothing save the size of his coin purse, when it all should’ve been dedicated to you — the last person who truly cared for him.

“Aegon,” There was not an ounce of reproach within your voice, and instead, it was all a breathy sigh of relief. You had only seen him in-passing, walking alongside Grand Maester Orwyle or Lord Larys Strong. He had not allowed you to see him fully, until now. “I …”

“Save your pity,” Aegon quipped, turning away from you as he turned inward upon his books, instead. Gods, he felt wretched for constantly causing you such agony, but he could not endure the sight of you seeing him. “Have you come to see the withered King?” He mumbled, voice riddled with disdain.

Aegon was not an easy husband — and your union had been fraught with strife, hallmarked by his love of whores and wine, his absence felt by you each and every moment. You had passed this off as reality — this was what marriage was, and you had no choice but to accept it or crack beneath the pressure.

Even now, you were willing to forgive him.

Instead, you gathered your skirts and inched closer, longing to look upon him again with your own eyes. He had always been a beautiful man, so handsome with those regal Targaryen features that it often stole your breath away — and that hadn’t changed.

“I missed you,” You confessed, and it made Aegon’s throat become unbearably thick. Tears stung his eyes, tears born of frustration, an inner hatred and disgust, a disbelief that you truly meant any of this. “I thought that I could stay with you this evening.”

“No,” Aegon retorted, voice trembling at the bottom of his throat as he shook his head. “I do not want you here. I forbid you from seeing me. What part of that do you not understand?” His rage swelled — but not at you. He was so angry with himself that it began to manifest in uncouth ways.

It stung you, but not as much as you thought. Aegon kept you away, pushed you out to arm’s length because he feared what you might think of him. Being beloved and liked by those around him, the desire for attention and adoration, was perhaps one of his greatest flaws. When he could not find validation, it was easy to find it with a whore instead, or in the simpleminded lickspittles.

If Dornish Red could talk, perhaps he would find whatever comfort he sought there, too.

He reached for his goblet of wine, hand unsteady as he held it to his lips, and even then, he looked absolutely pathetic when taking a swig. “I cannot even drink without looking fucking pathetic,” Aegon snarled, letting out a bark of humorless laughter. “I cannot walk without being gazed upon like a wounded animal.”

At last, you began to understand where this anguish came from, where it all manifested. As much as you pitied your husband for the tragedy that had befallen him, you admired his resilience, his desire to endure and push on, even if it was most unpleasant.

“Aegon …” As your soft palm reached to rest against his shoulder, he violently jerked away, recoiling as if it were you that had burned him. “I am here for you. We are still married — allow me to continue to be your wife.” You whispered, flinching when he let out a sardonic laugh.

The scars were everywhere, enveloping half of his body, still aching with a dull pain that he muddied with poultices and Orwyle’s draughts. Aegon refused to take Milk of the Poppy, enduring his agony in different ways, ones that many would consider to be harder.

“Gods, how cunning you are — you play the role of naivety so well,” Aegon hissed, attempting to pull himself up from his table, hand reaching for his cane. “I am burnt, I am disgusting, and I am a cripple. You are not here for me — I do not want your pity!” He growled, voice raising to a tempestuous level.

You did not press him further, but you could see the tears glistening within his lilac hues, spilling down his cheeks as he began to laugh. The sound was grating and hollow, devoid of any amusement — just emptiness. He used what momentum he had to stand, grip ironclad and white-knuckled around his wooden beam of support.

“Why must you continue to push me away, Aegon? Have you not done it enough?” You questioned, voice sharp and wrought with emotion, sentiments that you had been repressing for so long, for the entirety of your marriage. “Must I always justify why I want to be your wife? We are married — I love you.”

Aegon froze, tears spilling over his face, countenance one of complete and utter bewilderment. He could not discern if you were genuine or simply conniving, or if you were being true. You had told him that you loved him before, and he always cast it aside — maybe you had truly meant it all this time, and he was too indifferent to realize it.

His back was partially turned to you, as if warding you away from seeing him. Aegon had been made to think that he was a failure all his life, that he was insignificant, made to do nothing instead of act. Whenever he did act, it was impulsive and reckless, branded acts of stupidity.

Maybe the one thing he could do right was you — mend the divide, mend the bridge that had kept you distanced for so long.

That cold, bitter laughter soon dissipated into what were choked sobs, ones of despair — he had been holding himself together for so long, for the sake of the realm, for the sake of a family that cared so little for him. His body ached and trembled, and as much as he attempted to move away from you, he couldn’t.

The nearest settee happened to be where he fell, landing against the velveteen cushions, head hung in despair, body wracked with sobs. He was undesirable, undeserving of you and your love. He was some withered husk, a shell, a monster still dressing in the clothing of a King — he was nothing.

Yet, you made him feel like something.

Silently, you crossed the cold stone to join him on the settee, sitting at his side as you gingerly let your palm settle against his back. “You underestimate how much I still care for you, husband.” You whispered, caressing along his spine with a feather-light touch.

Aegon felt drawn to you, pulled into the warmth of your comforting fire, knowing that if there was still one person left in this world who cared enough, it was you. Tears stained his visage, leaving behind streaks of red, eyes wet with many left unshed.

“Why should you?” Aegon questioned, his voice beginning to lose the fury and rage it held before, and it was melancholy. Anyone would’ve asked themselves such a question, but you didn’t — you remained steadfast. “I have brought nothing but misery upon you.”

It was complex, his statement — you had been miserable for some time, but this tragedy that afflicted you both was something worth overcoming. You were beginning to see the true Aegon, the one buried beneath the weight of the crown, the weight of inferiority.

“There is still time for forgiveness.” Your words were poignant and soft, and they were enough to move Aegon to tears again. He sat there beside you, crying to himself, breaking down completely. You had never seen him like this before — and perhaps, it was long overdue.

The comfort you provided was one he so desperately sought, even if he felt so guilty. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this, to deserve you — and yet he welcomed the grace of your palm, the sound of your songbird’s voice, soothing him with your gentle smile.

He was ashamed for you to see him this way, a man lacking the strength of physicality, the strength to hold a shortsword. It often wavered within his grasp — he would never be able to protect you. His beloved dragon was left in ruins, recovering in the Dragonpit — everything he had that made him strong had been taken.

Aegon was terrified to look upon you in such close quarters, afraid to feel the bitter jab of rejection, the horror and abhorrence within your gaze as you found his scars. He dared not turn, only keeping the intact side bared to you, still perfectly handsome.

Orwyle had harkened this to some miraculous recovery, a sign that the Gods favored him — Aegon did not feel favored, nor did he feel that he deserved it. Whatever he used to think, that his father wheezed his last breath desiring him on the Iron Throne, was nothing more than a twist of words.

There was nothing miraculous or prophetic about him — he was a sad, drunken cripple left to rot.

As much as he commiserated over his woes and the foul hand dealt to him by his brother, Larys had convinced him to live out of spite — and you convinced him that being alive, even in this wretched state, was a reality that was worth seeking.

He nearly crawled away at the sensation of your fingertips brushing along his jaw, unmarred and unscathed by the garish tangle of scars. Aegon shivered at your embrace — he had gone so terribly long without it, wondering if he would ever feel it again.

“I remember when I saw you for the first time, in the Grand Sept — I thought that you were the most resplendent man that I had ever seen,” You crooned, feeling him nudge his cheek into your palm. You gently swiped away a stray tear beneath his eye. “You still are.”

Aegon scoffed — a bitter, vitriolic sound that made his breath turn hoarse for a moment. He found it incredibly difficult to believe you, to find any merit in what you said given the circumstances. Even if you still loved him, that did not include his horrific appearance.

Tears trickled down his face, ones that you collected with your thumb before he shook his head. “Do not patronize me,” He murmured, visage furrowing together. “You cannot mean any of that. Look at me,” Aegon hissed, only slightly turning towards you. “I am a loathsome creature.”

His misery was an understatement when it came to his appearance — he looked like some monster, gnarled and withered beyond recognition. Whenever he looked into the mirror, he screamed and raged until he fell, or perhaps lost his voice.

Any Targaryen was often regarded as beautiful — pale, platinum tresses and lilac hues, a countenance as regal and as beautiful as a god. He was nothing more than a cockroach, now. He couldn’t fathom that you still desired him in a conventional way.

With a soft, tender touch, your hand then moved to rest against his shoulder. “If there is a loathsome creature here, I do not see it,” You murmured, head canting to one side. “What must I do to convince you, Aegon? Do you not believe me?”

Aegon’s trust had worn so thin that it threatened to snap, threadbare and nonexistent. He could only allow himself to trust so much — everyone he thought he could confide in or rely on had now turned against him, or attempted to slaughter him.

“It is hard to believe anyone anymore.” He murmured, staring down at his hands — one trembled, wreathed in burn scars, and the other clenched into a tight first.

He was made to believe that he was the rightful heir over Rhaenyra, when that was never the case. He was made to believe that he was a good ruler, when his Small Council plotted behind his back without his knowledge. He believed that Aemond was loyal to him, that he loved him as a brother would.

Lilac hues flickered from the void of his chambers to you, peering at you from beneath the curtain of pale tresses that still clung to his head. Despite the accusations of disloyalty he had hurled at you, his mistrust and doubt of your true intentions, you still maintained an amiable gaze.

You stared at him as if he had moved mountains, pulled the stars from the heavens for you — and he realized that no one, besides you, had looked at him in such a way before. It was profound and affectionate, wrought with a palpable adoration that came from a deep-rooted place of good.

Aegon’s throat grew tight, thick with emotion as he drank you in, tracing over the delicate plane of your features, the spark of warmth that brightened your eyes. Such divine beauty that he had robbed himself of for so long — he only felt like a fool, the greatest fool there was.

With an unsteady, quivering hand, he hesitantly reached out to you, unburnt fingertips tracing the curve of your jaw. He sucked in a sharp breath whenever you shuddered, face turning inward to press a kiss against his palm.

“I want to see you, husband.” You whispered, grasping his hand with both of yours, digits oozing with the radiance of heat that blossomed from you. The burn scars were carefully concealed behind silken garments, hidden from sight. Aegon grit his teeth together, not wanting you to see how disfigured he’d become.

“No,” Aegon quipped, shifting away from you with a scornful, wary expression. Whatever handsomeness he possessed before, it had all been burned away, turned to ash — and it left him, this husk of himself, with a physique that was repulsing to behold. “There is nothing pleasant about it — it is rotten.”

Rotten was perhaps a vast exaggeration for his wounds and scars, something that you found to be perplexing. Scars did not bother you, and you wouldn’t let your husband’s insecurities dissuade him from your comfort and care. Still holding his hand, you moved closer, pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

Aegon shivered beneath the chaste kiss, wanting nothing more than to collect you into his arms. The gnawing fear of your potential repulsion made him hesitate, and the bitter stab of rejection seemed to dig into him more than anything else.

“What woman would want this?”

Aegon’s forlorn, despondent inquiry hung above the both of you like some dour cloud. His grim outlook was something that you could sympathize with, given that his appearance had been torn apart within an instant. He swallowed the sob building within his chest, violet hues glistening with wet tears.

At last, he looked at you fully, exposing the marred, scarred side of his visage, tangled with a web of textured burns. His eye was sunken in, vessels having broken the white around his iris, ear nearly missing entirely, countenance partially mottled.

It was the same with his body, nearly half of it covered in the same fleshy web, scars spreading out like the roots of a tree. Aegon looked to you with a shattered expression, one that possessed a vehement swell of rage and frustration, yet still retained a sense of desperation. He was desperate to have your approval, for you to tell him that he was still perfect, regardless of his disfigurement.

Without a word, you moved your hand toward the maimed side of his face, expecting him to rip away or recoil entirely. Instead, he stayed there, rooted in-place, shuddering when the softness of your palm cupped his jaw. The pad of your thumb gingerly raked over his cheek, feeling along every scar and rough surface.

“I want you, Aegon,” The soft, silky resonance of your voice had brought him to heel, gaining his subservience, despite his inner battle with his insecurities. He feared being ugly in your eyes, as if his heart weren’t black and decayed enough. “I want you still.” Your lips twitched into an amiable smile.

For a moment, his eyes had fluttered shut, and he soaked in the sensation of your touch, warm and real against his cheek. It felt incredible, something he had craved for so long — it had left a gaping hole within his chest. Any tears that fell, you collected them with your fingertips, swiping them away.

Again, you inched closer, leg-to-leg with him, gaze drifting towards his lips. Aegon did not dissuade you from it, breathing becoming somewhat laborious as you pressed forward, mouth molding against his. It had been a long time since you had kissed him — truly kissed him.

A low, stirring groan reverberated within the depths of his throat, and at last, he reciprocated. Aegon’s kiss was done in a flurry of passion, realizing what he hadn’t had for so long. You tasted saccharine, warm and soft against him, mouth pliant and willing.

Gods, how blind he was — foolish, fragile, moronic.

He had abandoned you for unattainable things, for insignificant people that cared little about his wellbeing. Aegon had you — you, so devoted and loyal and forgiving, even when he deserved none of it. He very nearly sobbed again, knowing what error and sin he’d committed against you, but he shoved it down.

His insecurities seemed so small, as if they were wiped away by the curve of your mouth that so desperately kissed him. Aegon moved his good arm, bringing it to the swell of your hips, feeling your supple physique through the thin silk of your nightgown.

A sweet, simpering moan bubbled within your throat, a sound that so clearly vocalized your desperation for him, your repression and longstanding suffering. “Aegon,” You whispered, sending tremors down his spine as he kissed your jaw. “We don’t have to, we — you’re in pain.” You didn’t want to subject your husband to such agony.

Aegon shook his head, willing to push through the dull aching if it meant that he could have you again. Despite his fractured confidence, you made him feel so strong again, as if he still looked as he had before the burning. “Fuck agony,” He panted, hot breath fanning across your flesh. “I need you.”

That was enough to send a surge of molten heat throughout your belly, thighs rubbing together to alleviate some of your mounting arousal. “To bed, then.” You whispered, and Aegon swore that he moved quicker than normal, as if you had rejuvenated in some mystical way through words alone.

Using his cane to support most of his weight, he sluggishly walked toward your marital bed, feeling you hover around his side. You did not help him, and he didn’t want it, anyway. He was growing stronger by the day, capable of making it to his bed without support.

Fresh linens, silks, and feathered pillows had replaced ones used yesterday. It was all clean, smelling of lavender and honey. As he sat along the edge of the bed, he nearly chuckled at all of this — finally laying with you out of desire, and not duty, looking positively abhorrent.

If only it hadn’t taken him so long to get here.

“Are you certain, Aegon? I do not wish to hurt you, I —” Before you could prattle on about your concerns, Aegon silenced you with a kiss, coaxing you down by his side. His lips remained unblemished and unburnt, the taste of Dornish Red and sugar permeating his tongue.

“You won’t,” Aegon uttered, lilac hues raking over you, hungry and rapturous. “And if you do, you will not stop until I tell you to.” His tone retained a sternness to it, one that pleaded with you to allow him to drown in your affections, just like he always wanted.

With a gentle nod of your head, Aegon pushed your tresses away from your neck, thumb caressing along the column of your throat before he pressed a kiss there. You scarcely recalled the last time he’d done something like this, but you weren’t about to protest.

He wanted to hear your sighs and sweet whimpers, the sound of his name, breathy from your tongue. Aegon did not have the stamina he used to, but he would rather damn himself instead of stopping so quickly. He kissed and bit at your neck, soothing each mark with the languid lap of his tongue.

Gods, that sound — Aegon delighted in listening to your soft, wanton moan, pearlescent teeth nipping at your sensitive skin, kissing wherever he could reach. His burnt hand trembled, the flesh tender and still pulsating with a dull ache, but he elected to ignore it as best as he could.

Your hand pressed against his unmarred thigh, gripping into the flesh there as he groaned against you. He had finally gotten rid of that horrid, lengthy nightshirt, back to linen trousers and a silken, emerald tunic. His growing erection wasn’t subtle in the slightest.

“Let me see you.” Aegon murmured, wanting to look upon you with renewed eyes. You had always been beautiful to him, but now, you were captivating — a goddess incarnate, come to grace him with your presence. He watched as you stood, unraveling your robe as you draped it across the foot of the bed.

His mouth became dry, desire swelling within him like the urgent crash of a tidal wave. Aegon’s violet gaze remained transfixed, unable to tear themselves away from you and your perfection.

You stood in between his legs, shedding the thin, sheer gossamer of your nightgown, allowing it to pool around your feet before you nudged it aside. The last time you had undressed for Aegon, he was drunk and needy, several months ago.

His intoxication was of a different sort now, drunk upon your resplendence, your beauty, living and breathing before him. Aegon gripped your hip with his good hand, learning forward to press kisses all along your abdomen and stomach.

The sensation of your hand, so gentle and sweet, slipped against his marred cheek, gingerly caressing over his uneven web of scars, encapsulating over half of his skull. Aegon nearly groaned at your heavenly touch, the touch of a wife who loved her husband, scars and all.

He did not feel so monstrous anymore.

Aegon turned to press a kiss against the inside of your wrist, savoring the feeling of your fingertips roving across his scars. It was only when you moved to kiss the top of his head that he nearly faltered, breath warbled and wavering, surprise settling into his features.

He moved back, countenance twitching with pain for a fleeting moment, finding comfort within the silken duvet and soft sheets of your shared bed. You nearly moved to sit beside him again, but he stopped you, swallowing the growing lump within his throat.

“No,” Aegon whispered, tone a low, husky resonance, strung out with desire as he coaxed you into his lap with certainty. “Come here.” Those lilac hues were blown-out with lust and bewilderment, enthralled by you as he felt you settle down against him, thighs firmly caging him in on either side.

A grunt stirred within his chest, a dull throbbing pulsating throughout his body, but he persisted, feeling your plush form sit right in his lap. His good arm stroked along your spine and hip, faces mere breaths apart, and he kissed you with a blinding fervor.

Aegon never kissed you like this — not until now.

Whatever sentiments you felt for him, the ones that drove you to complete devotion, began to resurface — you still loved him fiercely, despite everything. “Will you allow me to see you, too?” You whispered against his mouth, digits dancing toward the hem of his tunic.

A beat of hesitation passed through your husband, who almost seemed to revert to his reclusive state. His jaw became tense, an inner war raging within him as he contemplated letting you disrobe him. Aegon looked at you, torn yet wanting, tugging you closer.

You gave him time to deliberate, not wanting to push him into something that he wasn’t prepared for. As if to soothe him, your fingertips traced along his brow line, and into the tangle of scars. “If you do not, I will understand, husband. It will not make me love you any less.”

That alone made him want to remove his tunic.

Aegon tilted forward, burying his face against your collarbone, mottled flesh textured against your own skin. He felt your palm glide against the nape of his neck, carding your digits through his wisps of pale hair. “It is hideous,” He uttered, insecurities bubbling to the surface. “I wouldn’t dare subject you to it.”

“Aegon,” The tenderness of your tone seemed to grab his attention rather swiftly, lilac hues drifting up toward your visage, perfect and comely. “It is all you — every scar and every imperfection, and I will love it all the same. My desires haven’t changed.”

His breath hitched within his throat, eyes swimming with an amalgamation of emotions, some of them too overwhelming to fully comprehend. He had sorely missed your embrace, and to further deprive himself of it seemed like an unimaginable torture.

You wanted him to take his time, neck craning as you peppered your lips against his throat — the burnt side, flesh marred and uneven, the sensation akin to a leathery surface. Aegon exhaled, gripping you tighter as he reveled in the feeling of your mouth.

It was he who initiated the removal of his tunic, attempting to pry it away and over his head, but he struggled, a low groan escaping him. Aegon wanted to feel independent, to do something himself, but he relented, accepting your assistance.

Removing the garment felt like an eternity, born out of his own nervousness and crippling insecurity of you seeing him this way, marred and mottled. Only half of him was covered in that tangled, leathery web of scars, spiraling down his entire physique.

Hovering your palm above his chest, Aegon’s lilac gaze silently pleaded with you to touch him, grace him with the touch of your resplendence. The scars were rough and uneven, innumerable and etched into his flesh like a blanket of leather.

Yet, you did not recoil or shy away, tracing patterns over his skin, pressing your sweet kisses wherever you could reach. Aegon felt his cock twitch and throb with desperation, longing to be inside of you. The tender care you showed him meant more to him than any crass or lewd act did.

You kissed his scarred shoulder, a gesture so comforting and kind that Aegon shuddered from exhilaration. That pattern of soft worship continued, as you kissed his scars again and again, reverence seeping into each grace of your mouth.

“Gods, how divine you are,” Aegon exhaled, quivering hand finally extending just enough to knead against your thigh. The palm that held your hip traced towards the warmth between your legs, and he shivered at the slick arousal there. “What a pleasant surprise.”

You squirmed, cunt aching for him in every way imaginable, hips jolting into the sensation of his practiced digits. Aegon was swift to reward your kindness with quick strokes of his fingers, tracing along your slit before caressing your clit, toying with the sensitive pearl.

The game of waiting was an agonizing one, as he longed to be inside of you, let you feel him again with renewed vigor, drown himself within your love. Aegon groaned when your lips met his, connecting with a thinly-veiled ardor, passionate yet tender.

Agony and pain became a thing of the past — even if his body ached and contorted with a continuous sting, he didn’t care. He wanted to endure for you, savoring each moment, digits greedily stroking away at your cunt in order to warm you up.

Desire made him dizzy, head beginning to spin in a delirium, induced by the growing haze of lust. He couldn’t recall the last time he laid with a woman and truly enjoyed it — but he was enjoying this — he loved your body, and above all else, he loved you.

“I want you inside of me,” You panted, hot breath fanning across the shell of his ear. A shiver cascaded along his spine, prompting him to slow the steady strokes of his digits. “Aegon, please.” With a pleading tone that brought Aegon to heel, he nodded, letting out a grunt of discomfort.

He gently removed you from his lap, but only to readjust, moving himself back against the mound of feathered pillows and cushions. Those violet hues silently observed you, rapturous and starving, like a hound preparing to devour its meal as you clamored forward again.

Your hands moved to the leather ties of his breeches, loosening them up enough to free his cock from its confines, flushed head oozing with tendrils of precum. Aegon wasn’t shy about how aroused he was, how desperately he needed you.

“Sit,” Aegon groaned, hand kneading against your hip, attempting to coax you onto his hardened length. “Please, I — I need you.” You hadn’t heard him beg before, but the sound was husky, timbre strung-out with desire as you crawled back into his lap.

As you gently lowered yourself onto his cock, Aegon nearly moaned at the sensation, head rolling back against the pillows as you sank down completely. He couldn’t move like he used to, guide you along or assist, but he did squeeze your hip, caressing all along your side.

Depriving himself of you for so long was perhaps one of the greatest faults he’d ever made, filling him with a wave of guilt. He could not make up for it anymore, properly ravage you in the way that you deserved, but he hoped that this was a start.

Everything began to ache with more of an intensity, a dull throbbing sinking into his bones, but he relented. Aegon would not deny himself, and he would not deny you, above all else. A myriad of throaty groans escaped him as you began to move, hips rocking forward, disarmingly gentle and sluggish.

You did not go quickly at all, each movement slow and steady, thighs stinging from exertion. Slowly, you reached for his hand, the one that had stayed closer to his chest, longing to hold it, if he was able. Aegon’s breath hitched when you did, gently twining his fingers with your own as you rode him.

His cock filled you perfectly, filling a void within you that had been left half-empty for so long. At last, you had your husband again — the one that you yearned for since your wedding day. With gentle gyrations, you moved yourself up and down along his length, continuing your sluggish rhythm.

The palm that cupped your hip and thigh soon slithered toward the apex of between your legs, hoping to stimulate you just as you did him. Your moans, breathy and high-pitched, filled your chambers, noises that he had been longing to hear.

The full, lovely swell of your breasts bounced gently atop your chest as you continued your ministrations, repeating the monotonous motion of rocking along his cock. Your stomach sloshed with molten heat, and it quickly spread to your loins when Aegon’s thumb caressed the pearl of your cunt.

He wasn’t going to last much longer in this state, cock throbbing with tendrils of precum that released themselves inside of you. The way in which you milked him, moved agonizingly slow, allowing him to feel your cunt tighten around him — it was nearly overwhelming.

Your cunt clenched pathetically, snug around his length as you continued to ride him, his cock bottoming out within you. It was a perfect storm of sensations, between the fervent circles he traced into your clit coupled with the feeling of him inside of you, you knew that your release was near and inevitable.

A breathy sigh of ‘fuck’ emerged from Aegon’s mouth, countenance contorted into a look of complete and utter ecstasy. “Gods, do not stop,” Aegon commanded through wanton groans, hips desperately wanting to buck up inside of you, but the pain was becoming too great. “Please.” He pleaded.

Everything felt so raw and sensitive, nerves set ablaze, arousal gripping him tightly as you continued to ride his cock, ensuring that you were still incredibly gentle. He thoroughly enjoyed watching you move, cautious and mindful of him, lips agape and visage one of sheer bliss.

The delight you felt was immense, holding onto Aegon’s hand, wanting to grind yourself into his thumb. “Aegon,” You moaned, looking down upon him with reverence and awe, no inkling of disgust to be found — it was ardor and want, all tangled into one. “I—I’m close!” Your whine made him want to tear you apart.

It only took one more roll of your hips for him to fall apart, in shambles beneath you, hot ropes of virile seed filling your womb with desperation. Aegon saw stars from the intensity of his release, nearly collapsing in the aftermath of it all.

His breathing quickened, hoarse and labored as you tilted your hips forward, finding a much-needed friction as he caressed your clit even still. Watching you reach your release with his own eyes was a captivating sight, mesmerizing to behold as you shuddered, trembling and aching with relief.

He huffed, attempting to recuperate as you stayed in his lap for a moment longer, slick with your nectar and his own spent, its sheen coating the inside of your thighs. You removed yourself from him to give him some reprieve, stepping away to clean yourself up and retrieve your nightgown.

Aegon’s visage became one of immediate concern as he watched you move away, worried that he had offended you. “Where — Are you not staying?” He questioned, hastily maneuvering his breeches up around his hips again, doing his best to lace up the leather ties.

Surprised, you stopped near the basin of water sitting along the vanity, head canting to one side. “I intended on staying with you, unless you do not want me to.” You replied, sliding the silken garment back on after having taken a swatch of cloth to the warmth between your thighs.

“I want you,” Aegon’s tone had become a rather desperate resonance, as if imploring you to stay even when there wasn’t a need for him to do so. “I want you to stay.” He uttered, lilac hues somewhat shrewd as you approached, helping him put his tunic back on.

“Of course.” With a soothing voice, you pressed a kiss against the scarred side of his scalp, and then to his forehead, helping to ease him back down into bed. The draught left behind by Maester Orwyle assisted with the pain — not nearly as strong as Milk of the Poppy, but it was the best choice.

Taking a swig, Aegon sighed, feeling you climb into bed, curled against the good side of his body. He immediately collected you into his arm, feeling your cheek press into his shoulder. It was the most satisfying feeling in the world, having you by his side again.

“If you are agreeable to it,” Aegon began, tracing patterns into the small of your back, “I wish for you to stay here again, and share my bed.” He didn’t demand anything, nor did he use his title and power to force you into sharing your chambers again.

He would’ve understood if you declined, given everything that had happened between the both of you.

Aegon loathed the thought of being alone again, to return to his reclusive existence of self-deprecation and endless misery when you were still here, living perfection — his beloved wife. He turned his head just enough to kiss your crown, briefly inhaling your floral scent, one that he sorely missed.

“I would like that,” You hummed, comfortable by his side. It was the first time in many moons that Aegon felt almost entirely comfortable again, scars and all. “Know that I love you, Aegon — until my last days.” With a gentle touch, you reached for his marred hand, holding it delicately within your own.

Tears swam within his lilac hues, and he had to squeeze them shut just to alleviate that feeling of sobbing. To hear you say with certainty that you loved him — he knew that he no longer needed to fear the idea of living, not when he had you.

“I love you.” Aegon whispered, barely above a whisper. He held you tightly, cradling you close, grasp innately protective even when danger didn’t hang over your heads.

Perhaps, for the first time in his life, he was finally being transparent with himself — with his inner turmoil, with his very existence, and that he loved you too.

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not copy/steal my work and claim it as your own. please do not translate my work onto other platforms.

[lovingclare]

The Heavenly Ivory Touch of Your Hand

summary | The news of your husband's infidelity had driven you into Aegon's arms, your growing companionship tethering on the edge of decency.

pairing | aegon ii targaryen x aemond's wife!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, infidelity, slight angst, injury, post rook’s rest aegon

wordcount | 3.3k

song rec | Heavenly - Grant Lee Phillips (title is a lyric from the song)

note | been in an aegon mode after ep1 of the new season 🫦 idk why i had to include aemond somehow, that man has my brain in a chokehold unfortunately

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @zaldritzosrose)

What soft hands you had. Your touch was gentle, caring…  loving. They were a welcome sensation on Aegon’s skin, a sweet reprieve from the aches that only ever grew by the day. He could feel himself sink deeper into the feathered mattress, your touch massaging the knots he bore from the agitated tension his shoulders carried. It was not right to have you like this, but the lines between propriety have long been blurred by chaos.

“It is not your place as my brother’s wife to tend to my wounds,” Aegon mumbled, though he wasn’t one to complain, not when the salve on your fingertips brought salvation to his marred flesh. You hummed, continuing to apply the healing balm diligently.

“Yes, but you had driven away half your staff, the other half you won’t let even a hair’s breadth within your space. Who else is there to do it for you, brother?”

Your words rang true. The pain brought about by the memory of Rook’s Rest left Aegon irritable, brash, growing quick to anger at anyone and anything that displeased him. His staff were frightened to treat their king when he was so, grabbing the first opportunity to leave him be when he demanded. The treachery he had faced at the hands of his own people left him wary of any and all that walked through his home, the pain of losing his heir haunting his every thought. He couldn’t afford another travesty when he had lost so much. His wife had grown hysterical from grief, driven even farther away from his grasp than she already was. His mother was never really here, her heart still chained in his half-sister’s grasp, seeking a false sense of power by riding Cole whenever she could before he marched off. Perhaps Aegon was like her in a way, desperate to make a window in their own prison.

You were just as lonely as he, where he was alone in the numbing pain of his wounds, you were in a different prison— the isolating humiliation of the failure they all called a marriage. The news of Aemond’s infidelity left you broken and riddled with heartache. Where you waited and waited for the beastly sight of Vhagar flying over King’s Landing to signal his return, your husband had taken another to bed. The memory of reading the letter dropped by a raven from Harrenhal was a gray fog, the utter appalment that had overtaken your proper thinking caused you to block its actuality from your mind. The letter had come unsigned, maybe it was a servant who sent it, or Cole, perhaps it was the bastard witch herself, though it mattered little. The truth of the matter could not be denied when Aemond had been gone for nearly three moons now, and the whispers and looks of pity thrown your way could no longer be ignored.

Aegon wasn’t quite sure how you ended up in his midst when it happened. He figured you would lock yourself in your chambers in isolation, just like Helaena did, or wept at the Seven’s feet for guidance, just like his mother did. Instead, you had come to him, with the intention of tending his wounds at first, then came a natural companionship with each other. You had gotten along well, much better than even before the war.

When his joints felt better on brighter days, you would help him out of bed to walk; his cane in one hand, the other holding onto you for dear life. Not anywhere far, just in the halls of the royal apartments, away from curious eyes. You had even helped him bathe a few times, rubbing him clean without so much a look of disgust at the sight of his burnt half. Aemond would have definitely strangled the elder to death if he were ever to know, but the twat was hardly the face of honor and decency at the moment, and the king could care less what he thought. If Aegon was still the man he once was, he would have taken advantage of such mercy for something carnal, but his wounded spirit had never known such kindness. You tended to him in a way so foreign, so selfless, expecting naught in return.

Tonight, something was different. You hadn’t greeted him with that sweet smile of yours, one that Aegon always looked forward to every time you stepped into his chambers. You took your place on the edge of his bed quietly, grabbing the jar of salve and unscrewing its top without so much a word. The king was in a better condition tonight, no poppy milk to mar his mind blurred. There was a crease between your brows, and Aegon had to stop himself from brushing the tension away with his thumb. You were displeased.

“You are troubled,” he spoke up. Your eyes flickered to him under your lashes, before returning to your work on applying the balm on his side. Aegon hissed when you pressed on the wound a bit too harshly, which made you stop and utter an apology. “Sister,” he tried again, grabbing your wrist to stop you. You weren’t looking at him, your gaze trained to his grip on your flesh. He squeezed your wrist underneath his larger palm before asking, “What is it?”

Your eyes stung almost immediately, causing you to look away. You grabbed a cloth from Aegon’s bedside to wipe your hand clean, tugging on your flesh in a matter so harsh that it made your king look at you in concern. You took deep breaths, trying your hardest to swallow the piercing lump in your throat.

“She is with child,” you finally said, eyelashes flattering when your tears threatened to fall. The king scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head in disappointment. You didn’t have to utter who; your good brother-by-law already knew. Aemond used to be beyond such depravity, or so Aegon thought. His heart ached at the pitiful sight of you, with the way you avoided his eyes, scratching the inside of your wrist in an anxious habit. Your nails dug painfully into your flesh, rendering the skin a dark red to distract you from the agonizing swell of your heart. For the second time, Aegon grabbed your wrist to keep you from harming yourself, taking your smaller palm into his.

“I am sorry, sister,” he whispered in sincerity. “A fool he is. He may have lost one eye, but he is equally blind in both to see what he has lost. You are not deserving of such a man.”

You nodded at his words aimlessly, sniffling. Your eyes looked at anywhere but him, furiously blinking away your tears. In the days you had spent together, Aegon had learned you were one to detach yourself from your troubles, adamant to live in ignorance to save yourself the suffering. He used to be the same, but he had learned in the harshest way possible that pain would still find its way to you.

“He told me he loved me,” you chuckled darkly, through the corners of your lips quivered. You bit your lip, tilting your head back in a feeble attempt to push your tears back, before sighing. “He used to say I was the light of his life, that he could never wish to part from me, and he would return. Such flowery words from a liar.”

“My brother could have been a poet if he wasn’t a warrior, though he would be just as cruel with a pen as with a sword.”

You looked to your king with a pained smile, one which he returned, but a sob soon broke out from deep within your chest. Your beautiful face crumpled into sadness, your traitorous tears finally escaping. They left their mark on your cheeks, causing Aegon to wipe them in haste. His heart broke to see you like this, to see you suffering from a pain you did not deserve. You were the kindest being that had ever graced his days. Aegon may not be a devout man, but he liked to believe you were molded by the Mother’s hands, formed from her own essence. You were good, you were pure, everything the Targaryens were not. You never should have fallen into Aemond’s darkness, into their fiery madness.

“Come,” he bided, urging you to lay on the vast space beside him. You settled on the space by his good side, letting him take you into his bare chest. Avoiding his wounded side, you buried your head into the crook of his neck. Hot, salty tears left his skin damp, but Aegon couldn't care less, nor for the implications of the fact that anyone could come in and witness the king holding his brother’s wife in his arms. You were his priority.

“My daughter… she searches for him,” you sobbed, nuzzling closer into Aegon’s chest as he pulled you in tighter. “I don’t know what to tell her. How can I let her hold out hope when I am void of it myself? How do I gain the will to face him if he ever returns?”

Aegon sighed, his lips planting a kiss on your hair before he could stop himself. You smelled of fresh lavender, a scent so enticing and sweet. He couldn’t help peppering another kiss to your head, then another, before leaning his cheek against you.

“You do not have to, princess,” he said, his hand lowering to rub your back comfortingly. The king imagined the pair of you must look like lovers laid up like so, like man and wife. He cursed himself for thinking such thoughts while you wept for another, but his heart could never be silenced. “If you have no wish to be by his side, you will have it so. Your own apartments, your own space away from him. He would be turned away from your door if you command it. I shall see it done.”

“What will everyone else think? My name and reputation have been tainted by this disgrace,” you seethed, pushing yourself to lean on your elbow to look at Aegon. He could feel your breath on his face, could see you in perfect detail like this. Your pretty lashes had clumped from your tears, and a subtle flush had settled across your cheeks.

By the Seven, you were beautiful.

“I shall cut off any tongue that dares to speak against you, I promise this to you,” the king vowed, sealing his oath with a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You merely stared at him, searching for any signs of insincerity. You couldn’t bear another lie, and with Aegon you found none.

“Thank you, my king, thank you,” you expressed, pressing a reverent kiss on his scarred hand. Aegon felt blessed to have been bestowed such a touch on his ugliness, and he could only wish to be granted more.

“You need not thank me, sister,” he responded. With a rush of boldness, he cupped your jaw, a fiery hope stoking in his veins when you leaned into his touch. “I would do anything for you… anything.”

His words made you look at him, eyes clouded in thought. Aegon could practically feel the gears of your mind working, and for a moment, he worried. He must have overstepped his bounds, had put your friendship into jeopardy when he let too much of his affection show. The elder Targaryen opened his lips to speak, to deflect, but you had stunned him when you pressed your lips against his.

You pulled away in an instant to gauge his reaction, tracing the tingling remnants of his plump lips on yours with your fingertips. A look of shock you both mirrored, but before you could apologize, Aegon grabbed your arm, tugging you closer.

“Do it again,” he urged, to which you obliged obediently. He kept his hand on your occiput to keep you close, his tongue splitting your lips to deepen the kiss. Aegon had found bliss, with the way your tongue danced against his, your moan reverberating against his lips when he sucked on your plush, bottom lip. Your leg had slithered halfway across his waist, your calf rubbing his hardening length through his undergarments. The king groaned, squeezing your plump rear through your robe.

The comfort you found in the time you spent together had you only clad in your robe and nightgown during your late-night visits, seeing no harm in being in a state of undress with the silver-haired man. Aegon, however, had to hide the evidence of how much you affected him under his blankets. It was worse when the nights were chilly, and your nipples pebbled under the thin fabrics of your garments. The self-control he willed himself to bear was almost too much, but now his efforts were coming to fruition.

You pulled away to untie your robe, shrugging it off in haste before returning yourself to Aegon’s arm. Under the dim light of his chambers, the king could see the darker rims of your nubs, the teasing sight so enticing, he almost started salivating. He attached his lips to your clothed nipple, a dampness growing on the cotton from his spit. You sighed in delight, a whine following when his fingertips pinched your other breast.

“Aegon,” you mewled, the sound so sweet to the king’s ears. Your hand traveled down his unscarred chest, and down to his bulge. You squeezed him through his trousers, rubbing his clothed tip with your thumb. Aegon shamelessly moaned against your chest, hips subtly bucking into your touch. A dampness on his front started to mirror the ones on your nightgown, an ache in his tip making him bite the supple underside of your bosom. His larger palm settled on your waist, urging you to straddle his lap. You hesitated, refusing to move in fear of putting him in pain.

“I will hurt you,” you said, to which the king only replied with a fervent shake of his head.

“You won’t, I promise. P-please…” he insisted. You lifted your other leg, caging him between your thighs. Lifting the hem of your nightgown, you pulled the sheer cotton off, baring yourself to your king.

The air in Aegon’s lungs was taken away from the sight of you. He was stunned, his eyes trailing down your tantalizing form as he committed the sight to memory. If he were to perish on the morrow, he would do it happily if it meant seeing this image of you before he took his last breath.

“You are perfect,” he breathed out, a smile rising on his cheeks when you blushed.

He knew why you were doing this. It was your act of rebellion, your bitter revenge on your husband. Perhaps he should feel hurt, refuse to be used like a pawn, but if he got to have you like this, he could hardly complain.

With bated breath, he let you untie his undergarments, pull out his cock, and stroke it in your palm. It had twitched when you bent to drop a dribble of spit to lubricate his length, and Aegon couldn’t help but imagine all of the times in the past you must have done the same to his brother. Though he figured it mattered little when you were with him in the present, and he vowed to treat you well, better than Aemond ever could, so he may have you again in the future.

His length was hot and heavy against your palm, his scent heady with musk. You had barely spared it a glance when you would urge Aegon to let you apply the soothing balm to the scars on his lower body, but now, it stood tall, commanding your attention. You bit back a moan when you ran his tip against your slit, though your king made no effort to hide his delight. You were growing deliciously wet, painting his tip with your arousal. He would have to taste you next time; perhaps make you ride his face. What a wonderful treat that would be.

Deeming yourself ready, you looked to Aegon. He held your cheek, urging you close for another kiss. It was deep, all-consuming, a silent vow from him to you.

I am yours.

Take me as you wish.

Pulling away, you grabbed his length once more, aligning his tip to your entrance. You both moaned in delight when you began to sink onto his cock, burying him to the hilt. It was a delicious stretch, bringing about a deep satisfaction in your chest after having gone untouched for so long. Aegon gripped your waist tight when you began to bounce up and down at a steady pace, seemingly eager to chase your release without needing the time to adjust.

You mounted him like a horse, your loyal steed. Expert hips moved with grace, your hand planting on Aegon’s stomach to steady yourself. You rode him with an air of desperation like you had a point to prove. You wanted to feel that you were still desirable as a woman, and you needed him to prove it true.

Aegon’s mind was in the heavens. Your walls swallowed him so deliciously, it rendered him witless. He moaned unabashedly, echoing your name into the night. In all his depravity and frivolities, nothing tasted better than fucking your brother’s wife. You were a sight to behold, with your glistening, bouncing breasts and head tilted back in delight. Your brows furrowed while your jaw fell slack, the sweet, sweet music of your pleasure filling his senses. Tears had started to streak down your cheeks; from pleasure or guilt, he knew naught.

Before him was no princess, no, you were a goddess divine.

The wounded king had started to buck his hips against yours, but his weakened body made it difficult to help you chase your release. Pain bloomed on his side, making him grit his teeth. You had slowed your movements from the momentary look of discomfort on his face, making you cup his face in return.

“My king–"

“No, no, keep going, please! Don’t stop,” he babbled, gripping your waist tight to make you continue your ministrations. You could hardly express your worry when his strong grip made you lean over with a yelp, holding onto the headboard above his head. From this position, your breasts dangled over Aegon’s face at a perfect angle. He took your teat into his mouth, suckling the plump mound. The air was starting to grow thick with the smell of sex. Sweat dribbled down your back, as it did on Aegon’s temples.

“I’m so close, gods!” Your thighs were starting to tremble under Aegon’s palms, and he could only hold onto your plump rear to guide you to your release. With a thumb drawing tight circles on your pearl, it took little time for your walls to start squeezing his cock, signaling the start of your release. You came with a cry of his name, your king following suit with a muffled grunt into your chest. His warm seed painted your walls, and he could only hope you would let it find its home in your womb.

Perhaps he could make you round with child, yes, that would surely cement his victory over his brother.

You had returned to his side, breathlessly plopping down onto the mattress. Burrowing yourself into his chest, you let out a delighted hum as your lover planted a kiss on your forehead. Tilting your head to look at him, you found his lips once more. In the dead of night, no other words had been exchanged, just your sighs of contentment.

It was then you heard the thunderous flap of a dragon’s wings over the city. Aegon was startled into defensive alertness, assuming it was their enemy, but the look of utter dread on your face when the dragon’s monstrous size blanketed the Keep in its shadow signified it was no foe.

Aemond had returned.

[lovingclare]

Happily Ever After

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | How the Yandere!HOTD characters would react after being told by your father that they cannot marry you

warnings | Smut, mentions of pregnancy, yandere behavior, public sex, violence, mentions of death and sword fights

this fic is eighteen plus. minors please do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

Jacaerys Velaryon

Prince Jacaerys grows desperate upon being told he cannot marry you

The usual level-headed and reasonable Prince that people are used to seeing quickly goes out of the window and is replaced by a man desperate to do anything to have you

Not having you by his side was not part of his plan, and it’s simply not an option

Jace absolutely refuses to have anyone else as his partner, and he’ll be damned if you marry anyone but him

After being told no by your father, Jace begins to spiral

Anyone can see that the Prince is clearly not happy, and his behavior starts to become panicked and irrational

Rhaenyra tells him to let it go; to let you go but she doesn’t understand. How can Jace let you go when you’re everything he’s ever wanted?

He tells, no begs your father to reconsider, tells him that he can’t imagine spending his life with anyone else but you

Jace tries to get him to see just how in love the two of are, but unfortunately your father still tells him no. And it’s nothing against Jace, he reassures the prince, but it’s just that—much to everyone’s surprise—your father has already made arrangements to betroth you to someone else

You of course have absolutely no knowledge of this, and you’re stunned when your father apologizes to Jace but it’s still a big, fat no

He sends you both away and tells you not to ask again because everything is final. And even when you burst into tears, begging your mother to not let him do this, your father doesn’t budge

“This alliance is vital for our House, Y/N. I’m sorry, but you will not be marrying the Prince.”

That night, you go to bed absolutely devastated and of course, you want nothing more than for Jace to comfort you. You wish to sneak out and go to his chambers like you normally do, but your father is smarter than you anticipated

As if he knew exactly what you intended to do, he asks Rhaenyra to place a royal guard at your door

No one is allowed in and no one is allowed out, which makes your plan of seeing Jace impossible

You beg and you plead, but the guard does not budge. He simply tells you go back to bed and alas, you do not see Jacaerys that night. Or any night after that

It seems that your father is intentionally keeping you away from the prince, whisking you away every time he tries to approach or arranging your schedule so that you do not run into him

Additionally, there seems to be a guard present for every little thing you do, so sneaking away isn’t an option

If you do so happen to even see Jace, it’s only through fleeting glances and the lack of contact begins to drive you both insane

You can’t stand being away from one another and time is running out. The only reason your family is in King’s Landing is because your father was there for business, but soon he will be finished and you’ll have to go back to your homeland. Without Jace, to marry someone else

The sheer thought of it gives you anxiety, but you’ve exhausted your pleas and by now you know that your father won’t listen

There’s nothing you or Jace can do to change his mind—or at least, that’s what you think

Two days before you’re supposed to leave though, a sudden knock on the door shocks you. When you open it, you’re expecting it to be one of your family members, but nothing—absolutely nothing—prepares you to see Jace standing on the other side; the guard knocked out, Jace’s fist bloody, and a wild look in his brown eyes

When you ask him what the hell happened, Jace responds by telling you that he can’t live without you, and that he was willing to do whatever it took to make you his

He couldn’t let you leave without doing something, and so that night, the prince takes you in every position that he can think of. Missionary, doggy style, against the wall, on the balcony

Anything to breed your pretty little cunt, anything to make sure that his seed takes

Jace hates it, he hates breaking the rules and as heir he knows what he’s doing is wrong

He knows that impregnating you while not being married could potential ruin him, you, and his mother. He knows how the greens would react to a bastard having a bastard, but he’s so afraid of losing you that he doesn’t care

Jace risks everything that night just to make sure that you stay by his side; and it works

A few days later, you still end up leaving with your family but on the journey back home you pray to the Gods that your plan works

You pray that Jacaerys’ seed takes root in your womb and to your utter excitement, you prayers come true

A few short weeks after returning home, you notice that your moon blood hasn’t come and you start to get sick nearly every morning

You’re barely well enough to attend any meetings with your so-called ‘betrothed,’ and it doesn’t take long for someone to catch onto your symptoms

When your maids discover what’s going on, they immediately tell your mother, who in turn tells your furious father

When you finally break the news, you swear that you had never seen him get so angry before. Had your mother not been holding him back, you were sure that he would’ve strangled you where you stood

Alas though, as much as he wanted to wring your neck he knew that harming the future Queen of Westeros would not be a wise decision

After all, there were no doubts about who the father of your unborn child was, and as soon as the news broke your father had furiously written to Rhaenyra and informed her of the situation

As soon you arrived in King’s Landing, you were all but thrown into a wedding gown, modified to fit over your stomach of course

But either way, you and Jace get exactly what you want—the opportunity to spend forever together, and six moons later, a healthy, chunky baby that just so happens to be born three moons sooner than anyone expected

Aegon Targaryen

Aegon is angry when your father tells him no

And it’s not just because of the rejection, it’s also because he knows—Aegon knows that the only reason he says no is because your father doesn’t think he’s good enough for you

In fact, your father flat-out tells him this, and to make things even worse, your father declares that you’ll marry his brother instead—the responsible, honorable Aemond

Like hell Aegon would ever let that happen

You are the one thing Aegon has that Aemond doesn’t. Someone to love and genuinely care for him, and Aegon isn’t going to let that go so easily

He has half a mind to draw his sword and kill your father on the spot for even suggesting such a vile idea, but you beg him not to. Despite heavily disagreeing with your father’s decision, you tell Aegon that there’s other ways to get him to change his mind that doesn’t involve bloodshed

Surprisingly, Aegon listens to you but you should’ve known it was only because he had already thought of something worse

You didn’t know it, but when Aegon lures you into his chambers the next day, he’s come up with a plan

He knows exactly how to get your father to change his mind, and his plan starts the moment he has you naked

Unfortunately, it’s not the first time you and Aegon have fucked so bedsheets are no use to him. No, your lover has to get a bit more creative than that

Somehow, Aegon convinces you to try something new and you end up bent over the Prince’s balcony as he fucks you from behind, his cock driving in and out of your slick cunt

It’s the middle of the day and what you’re doing is beyond risky, not only because you’re not married, but also because literally anyone could look up and see the two of you

You see, the Prince’s balcony just so happened to overlook the training yard, and though it was empty at the moment, Aegon knew exactly when it got crowded

All he had to do was wait for his chance, fucking you so good that you didn’t even grasp the situation

You were none the wiser as to what was happening, eyes closed as you basked in the pleasure. You moaned his name and clenched around his cock, feeling a familiar pinch in your stomach

Just as you reached your peak, you began to hear shouting from below

Startled gasps and a few screams had your eyes flying open, Aegon smirking as you caught the attention of at least twenty people—one of whom was your father

He stood, horrified as the prince locked eyes with him. Seemingly taunting him as he rutted into you, moaning and still fucking you against the railing

Aegon swore that he had never came so hard in his life—expect maybe on your wedding night less two days later, the memory of your father’s face and the satisfaction of getting what he wanted fueling what he calls, “The best fuck of his goddamn life.”

Daemon Targaryen

Daemon is amused upon being told no

He’s amused and it’s because he never really asked for permission in the first place. It was more like…a courtesy warning, and he only did it because he knew you were too scared to tell your father yourself

After all, the Rouge Prince has a reputation and it’s not exactly squeaky clean. Daemon’s track record with his wives is why your father said no, but he should’ve known that no isn’t in Daemon Targaryen’s vocabulary

In fact, Daemon merely laughs in your father’s face, declaring that the two of you will be married in a fortnight, regardless of what your father says

Show up or don’t, Daemon doesn’t care—but you will be his wife

And of course, your father protests, appalled that the prince is so bold

He even goes as far as to complain to the King, but Viserys is old and weak. There’s seldom that he can do to fight Daemon anymore except threaten to exile him again, but Daemon isn’t afraid of punishment

He’ll gladly leave the hell hole that’s King’s Landing, but he makes it clear that if he does, Westeros will never see him or you again

He relays this threat to your father, and in his desperation to keep you away from the Prince, your father all but flees in the middle of the night. Making sure that no one except those loyal to your House know where he’s taking you

Despite your protests and your attempts to alert Daemon, you’re dragged on a boat and shipped off to a far away land, one where your father hopes the Prince will never find you

He even goes so far as to change your hair and make up a fake identity for you, but he was a fool to think that he could ever cross Daemon Targaryen

If the Prince wasn’t annoyed with your father before, then Daemon is most certainly furious when he learns that he’s all but kidnapped you

He sets to work on finding you almost immediately, and he swears once he does he’ll kill anyone that helped with this ridiculous scheme

He starts his search by fiercely questioning all of the guards and servants that were tending to you. And because he’s Daemon Targaryen, it doesn’t take long to get the answers he’s looking for

With one look at Caraxes, the so-called men that were loyal to your house end up folding pretty quickly. Daemon has them all but fighting each other to give up your location, though unfortunately their honesty isn’t enough to spare their lives

In his pursuit to get where you are, Daemon leaves a trail of bodies

He kills anyone that he suspects of helping your father, though his rage won’t be satisfied until he confronts the man himself

And what do you know—your father truly is a fool of a man because it turns out that he took you to Pentos. Pentos, the land where Daemon Targaryen lived for years

Why he thought that was a good idea, no one knows. Perhaps he thought that hiding you in plain sight would be enough to fool Daemon, but unfortunately the rouge Prince is much too smart for that

And due to all of the connections Daemon has in the city (and his dragon) it takes him less than a week to locate you

He finds you hiding just on the outskirts of the city, in some rundown village. You look miserable as you chat with some of the locals, hatching your own plans to escape and somehow get back to Daemon

Your father was asleep in the house that you shared, though the beat of Caraxes’ wings are enough to alert you both, your father waking up and running outside just as Daemon lands in front of you

The Prince wears a smirk of triumph as he dismounts his dragon, taking in your father’s horrified face and laughing

He enjoys the moment almost as much as he enjoys the way you immediately run to you, ignoring your father’s protests and shouts to come back

It’s obvious who you choose by the way you hang onto Daemon, hiding behind him while Caraxes roars

There’s a moment where everything seems to stand still, and Daemon drinks in his moment of victory before slowly gesturing you towards his dragon, helping you mount

As you climb onto the red beast, Daemon slipping in the saddle behind you, the last thing your father sees is the smirk that adorns Daemon’s face

Lilac eyes with with his own, and then, Prince’s lips utter a single word

“Dracarys.”

Lucerys Velaryon

Poor Luke is devastated when your father rejects his proposal

It took all he had to muster up the courage to even ask, and now he’s crushed that he won’t be able to marry the love his life

Not only that, Luke genuinely cannot see himself with anyone else. You’re it for him, and he’s determined to be with you no matter what

Call it young love or maybe just sheer stupidity, but one night Luke sneaks into your chambers and hatches a plan

He tells you that there’s a way for you to be together, a way for you to have your happy ending after all. All you have to do is come with him, and he’ll take you to a place where no one, including your father, can come between you two ever again

And that night, when you flee with the Prince on the back of Arrax, it almost feels like a fairytale. You’ve never felt more alive than you did as you watched the Red Keep disappear into the night

With your heart beating as fast as Arrax’s wings, you and Luke run away, neither of you thinking of the consequences, or caring

You’re just so happy to be together that everything else falls into the background. Caught up in your own bliss, you and Luke flee to Essos where the Prince has arranged for you to be married

Like he promised, no one is there to object or to stop you from becoming one. They’re all too busy in King’s Landing looking for you both, your mother distraught and your father wondering what happened to his youngest child

Likewise, Rhaneyra nearly collapses when she finds out that Luke is missing, but Daemon reassures her he’ll be back. He doesn’t know when, he tells her, but he has a sneaking suspicion that when he does you’ll be in tow

And what do you know—four moons go by and it turns out that Daemon was right. You and Luke return to King’s Landing after all, and upon arrival you’re greeted by your weeping mother and your

concerned father

They both have so many questions—where have you been, what happened, why did you run away?

And everyone is so focused on questioning you, so relieved that the Prince isn’t dead after all, that they almost miss the glaringly obvious bump that’s concealed behind your blue dress

Almost

You try to hide it as best as you can, but when your father pulls you in for a hug you know that he can feel it. The horrified expression he wears when he pulls away confirms this. And when you back away, placing a loving hand over your stomach and settling into Luke’s arms, that is when he also takes note of the matching Velaryon pins on your clothes

“We have something to announce,” Luke tells his mother excitedly

You both share a loving look, and Rhaneyra’s eyes are ready to pop out of her skull when Luke places a hand over your stomach and grins

“Y/N is with child.”

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond takes your father’s words as a challenge

Despite how irritated he is at being flat-out rejected, he decides not to lash out or show any emotion really

For Aemond, keeping a level head is important. It allows him to plan, to strategize like he’s always been taught and to be able to stay one step ahead

He supposes he’s just like his grandfather in a way, and it’s obvious that your father underestimates just how far Aemond is willing to go for you

The first man that your father agrees to betroth you to only lasts about five minutes in the duel Aemond challenges him to

The second fairs a little better, though not by much. By the third, your father is furious and it’s become a game for Aemond to see how fast his opponent can last before they ultimately meet their maker

He wears a smirk the entire time he’s fighting, easily ducking and dodging and occasionally striking which wounds the man heavily. It’s obvious that he’s going to win, again, and the sobs and screams from the Lord’s family are hard to miss

They sit next to you in the crowd that surrounds him and Aemond, and every time Aemond lands a blow your father flinches, muttering under his breath how it was a mistake to ever let you meet that man

You on the other are ecstatic, occasionally locking eyes with Aemond and sending him encouraging smiles

You pray after each duel that your father will finally change his mind and allow you to marry Aemond, but it’s not until after the fourth duel does he agree

After a particularly bloody and grueling fight, there are no more proposals. Every Lord that had ever considered asking for your hand is now too terrified to even speak to you, and with the lack of marriage offers your father has no choice but to admit defeat

He agrees to marry you to Aemond, and of course, Aemond feels victorious. He smugly thanks your father for his reconsideration, shaking his hand and promising that he won’t be regretting his decision

[lovingclare]

One thing: the aesthetics of the Sunrise on The Reaping film will be inspired by the 70s/80s. TBOSAS had that wonderful retro-futuristic idea, kind of 40s with a post-war feel, and the Hunger Games saga itself has a kind of 2000s aesthetic (even considering the time the films came out, of course). Following that line of thought, SOTR would be kind of 80s, twenty years before the trilogy, forty years after the first prequel.

Or maybe I'm just obsessed with that wonderful fanart of teenage Haymitch in a leather jacket, idk

[lovingclare]

I saw someone commenting on how interesting it would be to see the point of view of one of the Capitolians in Sunrise on The Reaping, showing the character's development in realizing that these so-called "district animals" are human beings like you and me and them too; people whose basic human rights were stripped from them just because they were born in the wrong place, who are paying for crimes they didn't even commit. I really like this idea, but I have another opinion.

How much more interesting would it be to see the point of view of someone from District 12 again? To hear from the mouth (and thoughts) of a resident of there what the situation was like forty years after the only winner disappeared into the forest as if it were nothing more than a story that remains alive in songs and memories. I wonder how much more impactful it would be to see this from the point of view of Haymitch's younger brother, maybe even his girlfriend. To hear their names, their ages, their stories, their dreams and desires, all coming straight from their mouths. Walking the squalid streets again, revisiting the illegal market (and maybe the forest, where that Everdeen boy goes to get fresh meat), seeing up close the violence of the Peacekeepers against those who are just trying to survive. And, in the middle of all this, the bloodiest Games you've ever seen take place, with your boyfriend or brother or son inside. Twice the tributes, twice the violence.

Not only that, but we've already had a direct point of view of tributes inside the arena in the trilogy, then a mentor's point of view, and now we get the chance to see someone's point of view in the District. We can feel their fear, their hope, their despair, their anger, everything. We hear them fervently wishing that person would win and be able to go home—and then the guilt that comes with knowing that dozens of other families will mourn their losses, and that the Capitol's goal will be fulfilled, one way or another. After all, what right do you have to want only your love to come home? Doesn't everyone else want the same? A dignified and full life without the threat of starvation and death hanging over their heads? What makes a tribute “more worthy” of winning than the others? They’re just kids, all of them, without exception. They’re not the enemy. Capitol is.

And after your love returns from that place, if he survives, you’ll still have to deal with the fact that he’s not the same anymore. That a part of him died there and can’t be recovered. That all the tributes died there, but one of them still has a beating heart and more money in his pockets than he could ever spend and a deep and irreversible trauma that will never be fully healed.

I think it would be wonderful to have someone from the District’s perspective, showing us how brutal the survivors become, and how even after they leave the arena, they never really get off that train. To see firsthand how much this would impact the families, above all. They, the Abernathys, and the others who died—we know that Maysilee Donner’s sister never recovered from the shock of losing her, but what about the other two tributes from the 12th? Did they have any family? Friends? Did they have anyone who cared?How brutal it would be if the chapters alternated—the girl in the District and the tribute in the arena, one subject to Capitol propaganda and the other a survivor in all senses—until Haymitch was the one narrating everything, because his girl, his brother, and his mother were killed exactly two weeks after his return home, all because of that “harmless” trick of his with the force field.

That, my friends, is the tragedy and violence with which the victors are treated even after they… you know… won. For having survived, actually.

I really like TBOSAS for telling it from the younger Snow’s point of view, with wonderfully accurate details about elitism and classism without ever taking the responsibility off Snow’s shoulders. I loved how it was all handled. But we've left the Capitol in the spotlight for too long—we've seen the tributes, the mentors, and now it's time to meet the families. It's time to hand over the spotlight to some of the other major victims they've managed to claim.

[lovingclare]

Describe your Main Character sheet

Skin

Tone: Pale, Rosy, Olive, Dark, Tanned, Alabaster, Ebony, Bronze, Golden, Fair

Texture: Smooth, Rough, Silky, Coarse, Flaky, Supple, Wrinkled, Calloused, Bumpy

Condition: Moles, Acne, Dry, Greasy, Freckled, Scars, Birthmarks, Bruised, Sunburned, Flawless

Complexion: Clear, Ruddy, Sallow, Glowing, Dull, Even-toned, Blotchy

Eyes

Size: Small, Large, Average, Tiny, Bulging, Narrow

Color: Grey, Brown, Blue, Violet, Pink, Green, Gold, Hazel, Crimson, Amber, Turquoise, Sapphire, Onyx

Shape: Doe-eyed, Almond, Close-set, Wide-set, Round, Oval, Hooded, Monolid

Expression: Deep-set, Squinty, Monolid, Heavy eyelids, Upturned, Downturned, Piercing, Gentle, Sparkling, Steely

Other: Glassy, Bloodshot, Tear-filled, Clear, Glinting, Shiny

Hair

Thickness: Thin, Thick, Fine, Normal

Texture: Greasy, Dry, Soft, Shiny, Curly, Frizzy, Wild, Unruly, Straight, Smooth, Wavy, Floppy

Length: Cropped, Pixie-cut, Afro, Shoulder length, Back length, Waist length, Past hip-length, Buzz cut, Bald

Styles: Weave, Hair extensions, Jaw length, Layered, Mohawk, Dreadlocks, Box braids, Faux locks, Braid, Ponytail, Bun, Updo

Color: White, Salt and pepper, Platinum blonde, Golden blonde, Dirty blonde, Blonde, Strawberry blonde, Ash brown, Mouse brown, Chestnut brown, Golden brown, Chocolate brown, Dark brown, Jet black, Ginger, Red, Auburn, Dyed, Highlights, Low-lights, Ombre

Eyebrows: Thin eyebrows, Average eyebrows, Thick eyebrows, Plucked eyebrows, Bushy eyebrows, Arched eyebrows, Straight eyebrows

Lips

Shape: Full, Thin, Heart-shaped, Bow-shaped, Wide, Small

Texture: Chapped, Smooth, Cracked, Soft, Rough

Color: Pale, Pink, Red, Crimson, Brown, Purple, Nude

Expression: Smiling, Frowning, Pursed, Pouting, Curved, Neutral, Tight-lipped, Parted

Nose

Shape: Button, Roman, Hooked, Aquiline, Flat, Pointed, Wide, Narrow, Crooked, Upturned, Snub

Size: Small, Large, Average, Long, Short

Condition: Freckled, Sunburned, Smooth, Bumpy

Build

Frame: Petite, Slim, Athletic, Muscular, Average, Stocky, Large, Lean, Stout, Bony, Broad-shouldered, Narrow-shouldered

Height: Short, Tall, Average, Petite, Giant

Posture: Upright, Slouched, Rigid, Relaxed, Graceful, Awkward, Stiff, Hunched

Hands

Size: Small, Large, Average, Delicate, Strong

Texture: Smooth, Rough, Calloused, Soft, Firm

Condition: Clean, Dirty, Manicured, Scarred, Wrinkled

Nails: Short, Long, Polished, Chipped, Clean, Dirty, Painted, Natural

Voice

Tone: Deep, High, Soft, Loud, Raspy, Melodic, Monotonous, Hoarse, Clear, Gentle

Volume: Loud, Soft, Whispery, Booming, Muted

Pace: Fast, Slow, Steady, Hasty, Measured

Expression: Cheerful, Sad, Angry, Calm, Anxious, Confident, Nervous, Excited, Bored

[lovingclare]

✒ ONE SHOTS:

“Life Amidst the Death”

“Mercy and Epsom Derby”

“Sacred Words”

“Beauty of Dance”

“Ghostly Encounter”

“Baby Nausea”

“Dangerous Business”

“Solace”

“Protection”

“An Italian Bastardo” || pt.1 || pt.2 ||

“Of Secrets and Horses”

✒ BLURBS:

“Good Man”

✒ HEADCANONS:

“Mrs. Shelby”

✒ FATHER!TOMMY:

“Marrying Off for Love”

“Dad invades the Red Rose”

“From Afar”

��A Castle of Safe Harbor”

My main masterlist♡

[lovingclare]

Late - Tommy Shelby x reader. (One shot)

Summary: You are engaged to someone else.

Tommy Shelby is married.

If only you two had crossed paths sooner…

Sometimes chances are late.

And there’s nothing you can do about it.

Tommy downed his whiskey while he was trying to mentally prepare for the shitty night ahead, everyone wearing an expensive dress or suit that could cost enough money to feed a family of eight for months.

Fake smiles.

Fake happiness.

Only a masquerade to hide their true feelings.

He had always been able to read between the lines, to see beyond of what’s in front of him.

But it would be a double standard to criticize those bastards in his house, when he was the same, he married Lizzie because it was the right thing to do, because she was pregnant.

Because it was easy. Because he could provide a life she would never be able to get just by whoring around.

And he needed someone he could trust.

He basically married for all the wrong reasons.

But he just realized the terrible mistake he did.

Across the room full of fake smiling, dishonest, heartless people, there it was, the only genuine and purest smile, mesmerized by the light of the chandelier hanging from the double ceiling.

An unknown beautiful face, attired in a deep emerald color dress, petite silhouette perfectly hugged by the fabric, covering more than he would like, but leaving a whole of possibilities to his imagination.

Everyone else in the room faded away.

Continuar lendo