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5/6 illustrations of characters from my fic Sins Of The Father as suggested by a handful of mutuals. Still very much open for suggestions for the 6th (try to keep whatever character someone who's at least, like, 6 as of the latest fic chapter because I'm really not great at drawing super duper young kids) as I work on conceptualizing some other art & answering a commentary ask & continue drafting chapter 22 & try to decide on oc ask things to reblog.
Full sized illustrations (plus closeups of some of the details on Aemon & Lady Rhea) are below the cut, as is the taglist because I'm trying to get better at remembering to tag not just chapter updates but also fic related art 😅
@astrid2024 @paaperfloweeers @emilykaldwen @rainwingmarvel7 @queen--kenobi
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High in the Halls
Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (OC) Written for the @hotd-bigbang
Rating: Mature
Summary: Aegon Targaryen, the last true Valyrian Warlord, rattles at the machinations of his mother who tries to play Andal politics when he wants nothing more than to be left alone. A chance meeting of a maiden in distress in the Riverlands changes everything.
AKA the Old Valyria AU!
Notes: This is chapter one! Of what will probably be two chapters? I just didn't have the time to finish this, I'm so sorry.
Art by: @the-common-cowgirl / Beta: @vampire-exgirlfriend
Read on AO3
Author's Note: It's the old Valyria AU I've been hinting at for ages! It was a rough summer y'all, and this thing got finished while I was dying from Bronchitis (but before I got Covid) so I wasn't able to finish it. But this is absolutely a universe I want to have fun in and play with from time to time. I hope you enjoy it with me!
Sunfyre’s scream pierced the air, sending seagulls frantically fleeing from the battlements of Dragonstone, crying out as they took to the sky in an explosion of gray and white. The deep pink frills along the back of the dragon’s neck stood high, his head rearing back, snout vivid and wet with the blood of the sea beast he had dragged ashore for him and little Dreamfyre to feast on. His little sister’s dragon was twice the size of a horse, and the dead beast was at least two of her. The pair of them crouched around the great beast on the black sand beach, the waves crashing and little flits of multi-colored light caught in the air every time they broke against the rock of the harsh inlet.
Syrax hissed in response, her head rearing back in offense at being denied, but she eventually turned away, for Sunfyre was twice her size, and the smaller dragon was no match.
Aegon’s half-sister, on the other hand…
“Where is father?”
Aegon tilted his head, looking over his shoulder to where Rhaenyra, stood in the archway that led down to the stables. Her long, silver hair was tied back in a thick braid that fell to her waist, woven with charms that tinkled when she turned her head. The harshness of the style made her look more like Lord Viserys than her own mother, Lady Aemma, whose features were soft like his own mother.
He stayed silent, dragging his thumbnail along the near imperceptible groove of the stonework he leaned against. Did she think he was a servant? Did she think they were as close as their sire liked to pretend they were?
She arched her brows when he didn’t answer, her black boot tapping on the black stone. Before Aegon could open his mouth, there was movement behind Rhaenyra, heavily accented Valyrian answering for him.
“Helaena had another dream last night.” Lady Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes as she approached, silent maidens swathed in red following her. She was father’s second wife, taken in marriage when Lady Aemma could bear no more children. Even after all these years, she wore her long green gowns in the style of the continent: square necked and deep sleeved, a heavy, gold chain looped about her waist, her auburn curls held back a net of onyx and emeralds. Next to Rhaenyra in her dark gray riding leathers chased with crimson, Aegon thought his mother looked like a queen.
Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her teeth behind her lips, nodding curtly, and spun away with a swing of her long hair and vanished into the stronghold, vengeful and beautiful in the low light. Helaena’s dreams had changed fate for their family and Aegon did not know if it were better or worse. Some days, in the black of night, he wished he had gone down with the rest of their people in ash and flame. Others, he relished the freedom from politics that had plagued his earliest years. The fearful whispers of assassins, the way Uncle Daemon raged that they did not need to taint their blood to gain the Hightower gold—these things haunted him.
Mother pursed her lips, watching Lady Rhaenyra leave before her large, dark eyes met his.
“You cannot hide from me forever,” she told him in the common tongue. Aegon scoffed and looked back out at the rocky outcropping below where Sunfyre and Dreamfyre continued to devour the salt beast. He didn’t move as she approached, startling only a little when her hand combed through his shoulder length curls. “We must talk about this.”
“Must we?” he snipped, refusing to look at his mother. He kicked the toe of his boot against the stone and resisted crossing his arms to rest his head against them like a petulant child. Aegon was, in fact, acting a little like a petulant child, but he’d grown exhausted of the conversation that had circled for the past three years. “Go speak with Aemond about it. He’ll be more than glad to cross blades with Daemon and Rhaenyra- ow!”
His mother pinched and pulled at his ear to pull his face towards her and Aegon jerked from her grasp instinctively. Alicent Hightower’s lovely features were severe, delicate brows furrowed, pouty mouth pressed into a firm line.
“You are Viserys’ eldest son.”
“And Valyrian law dictates that Daemon inherits as his dragon is older-”
“Valyria is gone,” Alicent spat, her voice grating like the screech of kitlings or claws against stone. “If by chance you’d forgotten in your cups of strongwine, foolish boy. Valyria is gone, to fire and ash these past three years. Their laws of inheritance do not matter. The custom here, Aegon, is that of the eldest son. Sons before sisters, and all before uncles.”
“Then disown me,” Aegon snapped, pulling from his mother’s grasp before she could claw at him further. “Aemond will become your eldest and he shall eagerly fight with Helaena at his side. She could present it as a vision: Aemond inheriting Dragonstone with their children to carry his legacy on.” He clapped his hands together, smiling, although the gesture held no true joy. His smiles rarely did.
Aemond would relish at the opportunity to prove himself, to be more than what his position allowed him. Ever since their first son, Maelor, had been born, his younger brother had strutted about, speaking of his virility, dangling his son, and then soon after, their daughter, Daenys, in front of their father who so loved his grandchildren. Filling the hole that Rhaenyra left when her new family moved out of the fortress to the island of Driftmark, Viserys had indulged his grandchildren and Helaena was expecting her third soon.
The space between them grew as his mother drew back, her mouth pinched so tight that her lips had gone pale. Aegon loathed the way her gaze scraped at his insides and he resisted wrapping his arms around himself protectively, instead focusing on maintaining his languid, distant posture. To show weakness within the obsidian halls of Dragonstone was to be a death sentence. His mother was not of Old Valyria, but of these strange shores that he was more familiar with than the Freehold. She chafed at the ‘strange customs’, sick at the prospect of her children intermarrying with one another to keep their Valyrian blood pure. She misliked his lack of ambition, or how he preferred to spend his time in the brothel in the little fishing village while Lord Viserys lamented not being able to introduce him to the Ruby Palace and the most divine pleasure slaves the Freehold could have offered.
Lady Aemma misliked his father speaking so, although she was better at hiding her frustrations with her tender, tired smiles. His mother also did not care for the time Aegon spent in Lady Aemma’s solar, where they indulged in honey cakes together and she expected nothing from him, letting him lay his head in her lap while she combed her fingers through his hair when his mother’s anxieties turned her vicious.
If his own mother despised so much of him, then why was she so insistent to have him named heir?
“Aegon.”
He could not bear the anguish in his mother’s voice or on her soft features; the way it coalesced with the frustration like how the blood from the carcass on the beach turned the foaming ocean surf as pink as Sunfyre’s wings. Her shoulders that had bowed in on herself straightened, her breathing evening, and her delicate hands smoothed along the richness of her gown. “We will not indulge in such foolish things,” she said with an abrupt shake of her head. “You will be married at the end of the season.”
It felt like she’d punched him in the throat, the air rushing from him like a wheezing carcass. “I have no sisters to marry,” he rasped out, the blood rushing in his ears. Sunfyre’s call from below was a questioning one, and he saw his dragon lift his bloody face to peer up at him.
“One of the River Kings has need of a son in law,” she explained. “He is well known to our family, with only a daughter and the other river kings are circling. In exchange for you to protect his holding and claim his title upon his death, he will ensure that his armies are yours when the time comes.” She sniffed, twisting the ring on her right hand. “Which will be sooner, I think, than we all expect.”
Well known to their family? The Hightowers. The power that family held was ancient and worthy enough of Valyria, their origins a tightly guarded secret, but his father had said the Hightower blood was a special thing, and how lucky he’d been to snap up the daughter of so much power.
Aegon felt strangled and overheated, a pain coursing through his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Does he know?” There was something guttural and full of warning running through Aegon’s words, and it vibrated through him. For a moment, he thought he tasted salt and metal, satiating and repugnant along his tongue, and he spat on the ground to rid himself of the taste of his dragon’s kill.
She sniffed again. “He has allowed me freedom to do with my other two children as I please, and Daeron is eager to become a Maester and not claim a dragon for himself. He will serve you well when his education is completed.”
Something cool and wet slapped against Aegon’s cheek and he blinked, tilting his head up as a fine rain began to fall. His mother hurried back inside, arms wrapped around herself, but Aegon ignored her insistent call to follow him. He stood there letting the rain hit his too hot, too tight skin, wondering if it would sizzle the way it sizzled against the dragons. A fine hiss of steam had surrounded Sunfyre as he continued to eat, Dreamfyre tucked beneath his wing, protecting her in the ways that Aegon was unable to protect Helaena himself.
Of course Daeron didn’t want a dragon. He knew nothing else but what he learned of on the ground.
“You’d barter me to some little king for the power of my dragon!” Aegon shouted, his voice heavy with rage, an anger that he’d rarely let loose coming to the forefront like the storm surge. The heat in his throat was a dragon’s flame - he’d spit fire if he could.
Rage was Aemond’s domain, was Rhaenyra’s, was Daemon’s. But Aegon was just as fearsome when he chose to be.
“Aegon-”
“You had no right!” His hands ached for something to throw, to bend and break and shoving over the brazier on his way inside would have to suffice. The coals hissed and bounced along the stone, the metal clanging loudly along the ground. Mother jerked away at the sound like something skittish, a doe perhaps, or a mourning dove, dark eyes wide at the display. Perhaps she did have reasons to mislike him. “You had no fucking right. Daeron, you can barter around, but I, in case you’ve forgotten, am a Warlord. My mount is not some overgrown horse, but fire incarnate, and should I ever so choose, I could turn your precious Oldtown to ash, and the rest of this land if the whim took me.” His nostrils flared as he breathed, wishing he could snag his mother and shake her until sense rattled in her head once more.
But she misliked him enough that he didn’t, the notion settling like a stone in his gut as he skirted her and followed the ghost of his elder sister. Mother shouted his name, but he ignored her, striding down the dim corridors that snaked through the fortress. Torchlight illuminated the slick walls and made the obsidian shine like some living, slimy thing.
Trilling, melodious and haunting, echoed down the corridor, but Aegon could hear the shifting in Sunfyre’s tone. ‘Bite? Attack?’ the sound seemed to question. The Dragonkeepers along the dock gripped their pikes, shouting for Sunfyre to settle, to calm, but the golden dragon would have none of it. He called, concerned, and it grated and echoed along the cave that housed the stable, boiling saliva and blood dripping from his maw and onto the black stone. Another cry shook dust from stone as Sunfyre made as if he were to scramble his bulk up onto the dock. The Dragonkeepers shouted once more, Keeper Arrax looking at him imploringly.
Aegon met his gaze briefly before approaching, tugging his riding gloves on from his pockets. “Lykirī!” he called up to him, but there was little command in the words. Sunfyre rumbled low in his throat, eyes flicking above Aegon and past him for whomever had caused such upset within his rider. It was only as Aegon lifted a hand to his bloody maw to scratch gently along his nostril, did Sunfyre relax, albeit with extreme annoyance at not having anything to attack.
The dragon snorted and settled, lowering himself enough that Aegon could make his way up the curve of his wing to the saddle. There were no words exchanged. None were needed. Him and Sunfyre were as one; the envy of the last Dragonlords.
The further west Aegon flew, the lighter the clouds became. There was something deeper within that, he was sure, and he could only imagine what poetic waxings his father would engage in had Aegon asked. Aemond would huff and let out the most annoyed of sighs and simply say, ‘Clouds move, you nitwit,’ and whatever obscure and esoteric insults from the books in their father’s library.
The breaking of the clouds revealed the lush green of what his mother’s people called the Riverlands. He’d flown over Crackclaw point and up the river that flowed into the Bay of Crabs, the great mountains of the Vale majestic and snow capped in the distance. The rolling green hills and dense forests were cut through with snaking slashes of blue and marked with weirwoods like drops of blood unfolded beneath him, a tapestry of a world he did not understand. His memories of the Freehold were fuzzy. The villa they’d lived in had been large, and he remembered the palanquin draped in the blacks and reds of their house as he made his way to the Dragonmont to claim Sunfyre. And then Helaena’s dreams had entranced their father and here they came.
Dragonstone was more home than Valyria had ever been, but even so, the obsidian fortress in the shadow of the mountain felt like a cage.
Out here above the Riverlands, Aegon breathed in the crisp air, the scent of the storm they’d passed through untainted by the smell of sulfur and salt that permeated the air of his home. These creatures of mud and root were meant to be subjugated. They were unworthy of the gift of flight, Aegon’s blood was a pure, magical thing, not something to be bartered to such a thing.
But his mother was of these people, and he loved his mother. Her blood flowed through him. She was just as fierce as his sister even if she lacked wings. His Uncle Daemon sneered and called him and his siblings half-breeds, shocked that they were able to claim dragons as they did.
Aegon shook his head, damp hair stuck across his forehead, and urged Sunfyre lower to better make out the land before him. Here, he could see the frightened sheep moving in a great herd as the shadow of the winged predator loomed over them. Sunfyre rumbled his desire and he tugged on the reins.
“You’ve had your fill,” he reminded the dragon, and the beast grumbled his annoyance. They swooped lower now, so Aegon could make out the details of the sheep and their startled herders, and hear the distant barking of the herding dogs that accompanied them. Aegon turned south, crossing over the Trident and soon they came upon Castle Derry nestled in the hills. His brow furrowed and he circled about it curiously. Was this where his bride resided? On the shores of the Ruby Ford?
Aegon flew further out still, towards the lush wood, settling his dragon down by a grove of bone white weirwoods, their crimson stained faces bearing witness to his sulking and self-pity. The forest floor was damp and gave beneath his boots as he approached the heart tree. The smell of petrichor clung in the air from the storms that had passed through; the scent of rich earth, of the pine scent of the evergreen trees that hugged the red grove a physical thing.
It was only the red sap that gave the look of bloody tears against the bark. That’s what the maester had said. Helaena, who received dreams from the gods, said they were the tears of those their visions could not help. Even though theirs were Valyrian gods - the fourteen flames that dragons like Syrax and Caraxes and even little Vhagar bore like badges of honor. Aegon had never felt close to the gods of his people, for they were angry beings that threw the Freehold into a melted, smoking husk and destroyed everything that they’d come from. The places in his hazy, childhood memory, the people who had visited, who had bustled in the forum below, were all gone, as were the multitude of dragons that had filled the sky from the other families, not to mention so many along the empire, and the many who had been unclaimed, roosting in the fissures of the volcanos.
Sunfyre rumbled behind him and Aegon waved a hand. “Go on,” he told him, Valyrian words feeling strange to speak in front of the tree. Sunfyre gave him a long look, as if assessing Aegon’s intent before his legs bunched up and he took off with a gust that nearly pushed Aegon from his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair before resting his hand on the pommel of his sword and looking around. Mayhaps he’d go for a swim. Climb a weirwood and fall asleep in the boughs. He could pilfer some clothes and dye his hair and vanish into the mists of the Riverlands, become something new and unseen. He could -
The scream that ripped through the forest was full of terror and anger, the words distant and shrill, but he could just make out the ‘NO!’ through the cacophony. Alarm took over and Aegon’s head whipped around trying to figure out what direction it came from. Another scream for help and he shifted direction, darting through the weirwood grove and bursting into the firs and evergreens of the rest of the forest.
‘Don’t stop screaming,’ he thought to himself, blood pumping in excitement for a fight. A dragonlord’s first weapon was fire and wing. His second was the blade, and Blackfyre hung reassuringly at his side - the gift his father had bestowed upon him on his twenty-second nameday. Next to fucking and drinking, he relished most the clang and scrape of metal against metal.Aemond could roll his eyes at his lack of finesse, but Aegon loved a good fight; blade, teeth, a punch to the face, all were ideal.
He slowed on approach, darting behind the thick trunk of a red oak large enough to seat his whole family for a meal. There were four men just past the trees by the stream, their horses lingering, pawing at the ground, perhaps from Sunfyre’s presence earlier. Three of them wore simple brown tunics and leggings, tabards of black and yellow with a sigil of eerie yellow eyes peering back at him. Aegon knew little of the houses of the area to know which this was. From the finer cut of cloth the fourth man wore, he was their liege. Tall, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, the leader of the group was clad in a tunic of black, his tabard half black, half yellow, edged with golden cording.
“Hush now, you’re safe,” he crooned to the hissing, spitting maiden clutched in his arms. She was a slight thing, her kirtle a deep, forest green, the skirt split over a pair of leggings, elegant embroidery visible across her gown. Aegon’s eyes darted around, looking for her horse, but none was to be found. A noble lady from the looks of it, but the oddity of her being alone in the forest was not his priority.
“Let me go!” she snarled, eyes wide and frightened, and she reached up to claw at the man’s face. Her little hand struck true, raking across his handsome features, and he yelled, striking her hard against the face in retaliation and sending her to the ground.
Sunfyre growled low in Aegon’s chest and before the man could reach for her again, he made himself known, unsheathing the Valyrian broadsword idly, clucking his tongue against his teeth.
“Is this how you Westerosi whelps treat your ladies?” he asked, brow furrowed in feigned confusion as his lilac gaze darted from man to man. “I confess, I’ve only been here for a little time, but from what I’ve been taught, there are laws among your people that frown on such things.” A lie of course; he could care less what laws Westeros had, but the woman was distressed, and he was doubtful any of these men owned her. Why he cared about her distress at all was something he would dissect later.
Aegon’s gaze raked over the men before lingering on the maiden still on the ground. The damp of the earth soaked into her skirts, her copper curls a frizz around her soft, tear streaked face. The ring her assailant wore had cut into her mouth, streaks of blood welling up and smeared across her chin. Her eyes met his in that singular moment, so vivid and bright, an endless blue. Aegon forgot to breathe at the sight of that frightened gaze that looked at him so full of terrified hope, his stomach twisting and pulling, wanting to drag him towards her.
How could he deny such a desperate plea? How could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that?
“Be gone with you, stranger,” the leader of this little band sneered, unbothered by the glint of Valyrian steel in the shafts of light that struggled to cut through the trees and clouds above. Aegon’s gaze met his and he smiled, lazy and unbothered. The creak of leather signaled the unsettled movements of his companions.
“Prince Ed,” one of them said, all nervous hesitation that pleased Aegon. “He’s one of them.” Fearful and othering, but he should fear him. Aegon was not some mortal clawed from mud. He was nearly a god himself, and the dragons were of the gods. Sunfyre purred deep in his chest, feeling Aegon’s amusement. He knew the dragon was approaching, and Aegon could buy himself some time and entertainment. Three against one wasn’t terrible odds. He’d been in brawls like that before, but rarely with a blade, and the swordmaster’s cautious words ran in the back of his mind to be cautious of how he picked his fights.
Sunfyre would be there before things got too out of hand.
The prince narrowed his eyes in Aegon’s direction and took in the languid stance and the Valyrian steel blade. There was a flicker of unease on his face before he set his jaw. “Are you sure?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think they touched the ground, let alone come down from their mountain, too busy fucking their sisters and fathers and probably their dragons.”
There was a nervous titter of laughter from his group and Aegon joined in, his own manic giggling not quite reaching his eyes. He moved deliberately yet continued his easy stance before he stabbed forward, a flash of polished steel to slide across the arm of this prince of mud. Aegon smiled as they shouted and pulled their blades.
“She’s mine now. Be off with you. I would spare her from witnessing your rolling heads.”
The supposed prince spat at Aegon’s feet, drawing his inferior blade. “A daughter of the Riverlands will not be taken by an inbred Valyrian bastard,” he declared with all the mock chivalry and hot air that he’d been blowing. As if Aegon hadn’t just come upon them attacking the maiden. She’d been backing slowly away as Aegon had held their attention but she froze now as the man’s gaze shot at her. “Marvyn, grab her. I’ll slay this imp abandoned by his beast.”
He was brave. Aegon would give this so-called prince that much. Brave and exceedingly stupid, which often went hand in hand; Aegon would know, having been called such by his mother. The clang of steel against steel rang through the clearing and the shriek of the woman joined them as she lobbed a rock at Marvyn in her attempt to evade their reach. His opponent relied on strength, on the advance and powerful swings, and Aegon knew the type. He ducked low and got behind the oaf, kicking the man in the ass and sending him stumbling forward. With the space cleared, Aegon turned and shoved Blackfyre through the back of Martyn and removed the blade without catching any bone. Blood sprayed against the damp earth as he fell to his knees and Aegon spun the blood streaked blade, eyes on the third who had hold of the maiden’s arm, and back to the prince.
Aegon smiled brightly at him, all teeth and mirth and the feral edge of the dragon beneath his skin. “Shame about Martyn,” he said with a pitying shake of his head. “But at least it’s a first course.”
Above, a great, winged shadow appeared, blotting out the watercolor sun and casting them in momentary dim. The gust of wind from Sunfyre’s wings shook the tree, a few small branches falling to the ground from sudden and turbulent wind.
“Prince Edmund,” the other man’s voice cracked with fear, and his wide, sunken eyes focused upon the forest canopy, hand still clutching his sword and the other dropping from the maiden’s arm. Another shriek filled the sky and the trees filled with the frightened lowing of woodland animals fleeing, the birds shaking the remaining branches as they took off.
“Don’t be frightened,” Aegon laughed, shaking the damp curls back from his forehead. “Sunfyre is just having a little fun before he feasts. We’re both rather famished.” He opened his arms wide, the blood dripping from the dark steel of his blade. The clearing was quiet except for the low wheezing of Marvyn’s death rattles. He looked to the frightened man who was backing away before his gaze traveled back to this prince, taut and tense and gripping his useless sword with both hands. “What was it you were saying about inbred Valyrians abandoned by their beasts? There were four of you, weren’t there?” Aegon looked around again, and there was neither hide nor hair of the fourth companion, who seemed to be the only one with good judgment.
Sunfyre’s cry shook the forest once more. The horses had already fled in fear.
“Just leave,” the maiden said, finally finding her voice as she stumbled to her feet, her eyes like blue fire as she glared at the leader of her assailants. “Leave and take the gift of your life.”
She trembled with fear but her fists were curled into her skirt, her shoulders squared as she stared the man down. Her voice lilted, softly and strangely, neither melodic nor grating, but something altogether new to Aegon. The common tongue was not her mother tongue, and it gave a dulcet quality to her tone that those brutes lacked.
Aegon’s smile broadened, his teeth flashing as he looked at the prince. “Begone, you mud stricken thing.”
The two men fled, leaving the corpse of their friend behind, and Aegon watched their figures disappear into the trees. Sunfyre’s melodic trill echoed above and he chuckled, reaching down to wipe his tunic on the corpse of the man he’d stabbed. No need to stain his own clothes with such inferior blood. Sheathing his blade, Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys, the last Dragonlord of Valyria, straightened before the maiden he’d rescued. He knew she would be in awe of him, perhaps even frightened. That was certainly alright. He would reassure her, comfort her, and promise that he would bring no harm to her.
“My lady,” he said with the utmost courtesy. She stood there, several feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, her brilliant blue eyes wide and wild. There was a gentle, cracking sensation between his ribs as he took her in properly. She was a mess from head to toe, the skirts of her riding clothes soaked and stained. She was slight, shorter than he was, and fear had given her soft features a delicate quality that drew from how pale she was, how stark the blood and dirt looked across her face.
It took everything in him not to just reach for her and lick the blood away from her swollen mouth. To swallow her fearful cries away and replace them with precious little moans. She looked like she would make sweet sounds. The fight had his blood pumping with fever and the thrill of the win only increased the potency. He meant what he said: she was his now. He’d claimed her and sealed it through combat.
“Come,” he said, fingers wrapped around her wrist. Aegon was startled at how fragile the bones felt beneath his touch. He made sure he was gentle with it, not wanting to frighten her further. “We’ll fly back to Dragonstone and you’ll be given all that you desire.” The slap of her little hand against his cheek surprised Aegon more than it hurt, but still he reared back at the sting of it, looking down at the maiden with wide eyes. “I saved you!”
“From men who wanted to steal me to make me a bride against my will! You’re trying to do the same thing!” She yanked at the hold he had on her wrist, but he would not let her go, not now that he had found her.
“I’m not going to make you my bride,” he snapped, bewildered at the very thought of it. “You will be my concubine. Then if you prove yourself, I might wed you.” Bride? What a silly idea these Westerosi had. Not that the idea of tying this girl to him wasn’t appealing. To drag her at the foot of the Dragonmont, to sip wine and taste the blood on her mouth with the blood on his, it was an appealing vision. And it was his own choice, not one where he was sold for his precious dragon and his mother’s clawing attempts to change the succession. If Alicent Hightower wanted him to marry a Westerosi so much, Aegon had found his own choice.
From the furrow on her brow, to the flush that filled her lightly freckled cheeks, it was too late to realize those words would not entice her. A sharp pain radiated from his shin from where she kicked him.
“I will not be your concubine, you stupid dragon whelp.”
“You are precious when so angry,” he giggled with amusement and dodged out of the way of her attempt to rake her nails across his face. Abruptly, he released her, and the girl went stumbling back, breathless. He lifted his hands in surrender before clasping them behind his back. “I won’t touch you-”
“Go raibh maith agat,” she muttered and Aegon blinked.
“Did you sneeze?”
She huffed. “I was saying thank you. I will not have uppity Valyrians accuse me nor my people of being discourteous even as you are high handed.”
Aegon snorted. “It was your Westerosi brethren that sought to kidnap you, if I’m not mistaken.”
Her eyes were nothing short of vivid; such a brilliant, cobalt blue like the endless sky, rimmed red from tears and smudged black from lack of sleep. The softness of her vulnerability at his statement was unmistakable and she did not have a snip or barb for him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and did not meet his gaze. At a loss for words now after she spent so many. Gods, she was a mess. Dirt on her cheek, her soft, molten red hair a mass of curls tied in an unkempt braid. Her wool kirtle was no better, torn along the sleeve and neckline, though it did little to detract from how fine a garment it was—or had been.
The twist of pressure in his chest was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and Aegon did not know where to put it.It snaked through the pulsing arousal through his blood, the aching desire he had for her. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her, voice gentler this time, as if she were a skittish mare.
She desperately looked around, her lower lip trembling before her teeth caught at the ruined flesh. Blood welled up in the wound once more from the broken clot. The desire to lick it rose in him once more. Instead, Aegon tugged his handkerchief from inside his sleeve and handed it to her. The linen was carefully embroidered with golden beetles by Helaena, who’d been bedridden during her last pregnancy.
It hung between them, Aegon’s outstretched hand with the offering. Tear filled eyes met his before flicking down, eyeing his hand with all the wariness of a little rabbit before she whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, just as softly, if a bit ashamed. Aegon looked down at the corpse that still lay near them and he carefully stepped between it and her gaze, gently herding her away from the sight and towards the weirwood grove he’d come from. He let her lead the way, keeping a distance between them, his eyes darting about for either horses or those fools. Sunfyre warbled above them and Aegon knew he was keeping an eye out before the ground shook at the dragon’s landing. The maiden stumbled and Aegon caught her elbow before she could fall.
She did not jerk away from him this time and he did not grab her roughly, the idea of further scaring her making him uncomfortable.
“What is your name?” It was a polite question and one Aegon should have asked her before telling her he was going to carry her off to Dragonstone. No matter; he could make up for it now.
She did not look at him and Aegon noticed how she trembled, likely from the come down after the fight. His own hands were shaking lightly, but he’d been well trained to manage it. He cursed under his breath and looked towards the clearing where Sunfyre landed. There was a cloak in his saddlebag he could give her.
“Abrogail.” Aegon looked at her, dark lashes shading her eyes, her pink tongue darting out enticingly to wet her lips as she dabbed at her mouth. “My name is Abrogail.”
Oh. “That’s… that’s a lovely name. Abrogail.” It even tasted lovely on his tongue. “I’m Aegon. Targaryen. Of House Targaryen.” How foolish he sounded.
Her mouth twitched with a promise of a smile and warmth bloomed in his chest. “I gathered as much… Aegon.” Gods help him, he loved the sound of his name on her tongue. Adjusting his course of action seemed to be working as the tension eased a little in her slim shoulders and her sweet face. The pulse of desire flooded through his veins once more and Aegon exhaled, looking up at the red leaves and white boughs of the weirwoods they had come to. The light was dimming as the clouds grew heavy with moisture and Aegon could smell the oncoming rain; petrichor and ozone and the promising crack of lightning. Could he make it back to Dragonstone to stay the night?
“Are you far from home?” he asked, the words ashen in his mouth. It was the right thing to do, even when all he wanted to do was bundle her up and take her away with him. She was meant to be his now. He had claimed her, won her in combat.
“Not overly far,” she said with a strange tone. Aegon looked down at her. Abrogail’s gaze had darkened, turned inward in her contemplation. “I left for my own reasons… and I find myself without my horse. I am not,” she paused, pushing a finger into his chest with fierce, flashing eyes, a kitten arching her back, “Saying I would come with you as your concubine.” She spat the word out with a wrinkled nose.
Aegon grinned at her, all bright teeth and amusement, a mad sort of giggle spilling from him. “Oh, you’ve made yourself quite clear, my lady. I promise not to make you my concubine, but I can offer you a ride away from here.” ‘To Dragonstone,’ he thought. She was escaping something, she said, and he could provide her anything she could want. All he’d ask for in return was a taste.
Abrogail tilted her head, rosebud mouth pursing in her wariness but the curiosity was easing her features.
Several tastes, perhaps. If she insisted on looking so appetizing.
“Your dragon?” There was a nervousness in her tone, but oh, that curiosity. Aegon nodded and held his hand out to her.
“Come,” he said softly. “You can meet Sunfyre.”
Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think! If you're looking for more Aegon and Abby, check out The Maiden and the Drowning Boy! and of course, be sure to check out the other stories being posted for the big bang <3
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If I can’t afford the surgery they’re recommending euthanizing Misha. I just can’t right now. But I’m gonna spend some time with him
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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy as The Tower and the Star
The Tower (Aegon II Targaryen) Upright: Upheaval, Sudden Change, Chaos, Restructure, Unforeseen Change Reversed: Personal Transformation, Existential Crisis, Fearing Change, Questioning Life's Purpose
The Star (Abrogail Strong) Upright: Hope, Purpose, Creativity, Renewal Reversed: Lack of Faith, Despair, Repression, Disconnection
“Prūmio ezīmus ñuhus,” Aegon breathed into her. The words unbidden, a spell, a promise, a declaration. His hand was trembling and he could feel her shaking against him. When he dared to open his eyes, her own were heavy lidded and looking back at him, the slightest pull of confusion creasing her brow. Her heart shaped mouth was red and kiss swollen, trembling as he was. “Half of my heart,” he whispered, the very thing pounding in his chest, his throat, the blood rushing through his ears that he felt dizzy with it. He loved her. He loved her. He loved her. Three times to matter. Three times to make it true.
- Chapter Fifteen: Your Love Is Like Sunlight
#abrogail strong#hotd oc#asoiaf oc#nat tag#lovely ocs#screaming and crying#it's so beautiful I cannot stop staring#THE SYMBOLISM the meanings are so perfect#the fairytale book drawing vibe of these is so gorgeous
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐘𝐃𝐀 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 · ── ✧⠐⠄
[inspo]
#gyda snow#got oc#THOSE QUOTES#I'm already obsessed with her#amazing concept#these gifs are gorgeous#lovely ocs
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JOSANA & TYWIN LANNISTER
their rise & their fall
Keep reading
#josana lannister#asoiaf oc#got oc#joey tag#AHHHHHHH#such an incredible edit#THE QUOTES#their dynamic is so fascinating#narrative foils#lovely ocs
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[companion to this set]
THE PRINCESS AND THE DRAGON KNIGHT (sequel to The Maiden and the Drowning Boy) - Myranda Greyjoy x Gwayne Hightower
The ironborn rebellion had been building since the Red Kraken, Dalton Greyjoy, took the Seastone Chair upon the death of his father. War broke out mere months after Prince Aegon's wedding, drawing him and the magnificent Sunfyre into their first battles. With the combined might of the riverlands and the north, the rebellion was put down after several months of fighting, but negotiations of the surrender were nearly derailed due to Lord Elmo Tully and Prince Aegon’s clashing of wills. To ensure the Greyjoy's adherence to the terms of surrender, his sister, Myranda, was offered as tribute. The youngest daughter of Briony Marbrand, the Lost Flame, Dalton wished to be rid of his bad omen, and in turn, should he break the treaty, her eventual son would be placed on the Seastone Chair while Elmo Tully expected to take the girl to wife, it was to the Hightowers she went where she was wed to Otto Hightower’s youngest son, Gwayne.
#myranda greyjoy#hotd oc#so so so excited for the sequel and i love this for myranda!!!!#beautiful edit#the green is so gorgeous#nat tag#lovely ocs
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I was getting pretty fed up with links and generators with very general and overused weapons and superpowers and what have you for characters so:
Here is a page for premodern weapons, broken down into a ton of subcategories, with the weapon’s region of origin.
Here is a page of medieval weapons.
Here is a page of just about every conceived superpower.
Here is a page for legendary creatures and their regions of origin.
Here are some gemstones.
Here is a bunch of Greek legends, including monsters, gods, nymphs, heroes, and so on.
Here is a website with a ton of (legally attained, don’t worry) information about the black market.
Here is a website with information about forensic science and cases of death. Discretion advised.
Here is every religion in the world.
Here is every language in the world.
Here are methods of torture. Discretion advised.
Here are descriptions of the various methods used for the death penalty. Discretion advised.
Here are poisonous plants.
Here are plants in general.
Feel free to add more to this!
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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy - Year 126 AC
“What don’t you understand?” he asked and his fingers slowly loosened from her hair and pet her curls back into place before drawing his fingers slowly down her jaw and along her hammering pulse in her throat. “Do you not understand how badly I crave you? Because I thought that I made it abundantly clear.” The wicked smirk she adored cut across his plump mouth and he squeezed her throat gently, pulling a gasp from her. “Abrogail Strong, I desire and crave you to madness and if I let myself go, I fear that I won’t keep myself from devouring you whole.”
Read On: AO3 | Tumblr follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications (no tag list for fic updates)
Likes are love, but Reblogs Keep A Post Alive!
taglist: @fyeahhotdocs, @fyeahgotocs, @fragilestorm, @stannisfactions, @starcrossedjedis, @darkwolf76, @dopedaegus, @hiddenqveendom, @mantillon, @lightofthearrow, @songsonacliffside, @acrossthesestars, @jadore-andor, @insabecs, @moireia, @dragonsbone, @corporalicent, @selfproclaimedunicorn, @notbloodraven, @impales, @thesunfyre4446, @dream-beyond-the-fantasy, @godswood-girl, @mimikoflamemaker, @murmel-malt, @rainwingmarvel7, @aegonx, @tremendouswolfsaladranch , @theothermaidoftarth, @lullaebies, @jotterjots, @zae5, @persesnickety, @darylandbethfanforever9
#abrogail strong#hotd oc#hotd fic#love love love so many parts of this#the dialogue the choice of scenes the cinematic quality of scenes#amazing!#nat tag#lovely ocs
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The Many Names of Lady Wylla Karstark - they say i killed you (haunt me then)
I have been ruminating over the idea for a set like this for so long (waaaay before I even had an inkling of an idea of how to gif) and I was absolutely inspired by the incredible title set that @moireia created for her oc, Alyssa Snow.
Haunt Me is finally nearing the end (how are there only five chapters left?!) and I'm just so grateful for all of the support that I've had along the way - @jadore-andor and @emilykaldwen, I'm looking at you. Go read The Maiden and the Drowning Boy by Nat and check out Allana Tyrell, Mare's ASOIAF oc, if you want that good Aegon II content.
I will never not be in love with Wylla and Aemond and their romance and the family they built and held on to despite all the odds being stacked against them. If you've been along for their wild ride, thank you!
#wylla karstark#hotd fic#alex tag#a beautiful edit!!!!#going insane over the fact that she is called night's queen#that is epic#lovely ocs
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@Fanfic writers:
My friend send me this link, is a series on a profile on Ao3 (tumblr) that has different tutorials to insert things to fanfics via html code, I thought I would share bc it’s really cool
Lists of tutorials:
How to make images fit in mobile browsers
This is a tutorial/live example on how to make large images fit on mobile browsers but remain normal size on desktop browsers.
How to mimic letters, fliers, and stationery without using images
This is a tutorial/live example on how to mimic the look of letters, fliers, and stationery (as well as other forms of written media) without using images. For all your epistolary fic needs.
How to make a “choose your own adventure” Fic
This is a tutorial/live example on how to create a "Choose Your Own Adventure" fic. While this has been explained before (see here), this particular tutorial shows you how to use a work skin to hide the next parts from the reader until they click through to get to them.
How to make linked footnotes on Ao3
This is a live example of how an author can create linked footnotes in their work with only a little bit of HTML and no workskins required. This is best viewed by clicking "Entire Work". While I've included the actual coding in bold and italic once you click "Hide Creator's Style", there's a more detailed explanation here.
How to change text on Ao3 when the cursor is hovering over it (or clicked on mobile)
This a tutorial/live example on how to have text change or appear once a cursor is hovering over it. Helpful for pop-up spoilers, language translations, quick author's notes, etc.
How to mimic author’s notes and Kudos/Comment buttons
Anonymous on tumblr: do you have a skin that would mimic the author’s notes and review/kudos buttons section from the end of a fic? the desired effect being that the fic could go on after the “end” of the fic, so after the author’s notes and review/kudos buttons
Here's a tutorial/live example to do just that, with some of the buttons actually functioning. I'll explain more inside!
How to wrap text around images
This is a tutorial/live example on how to align images to the left or right of the screen and have text wrap around them.
How to mimic email windows
This is a tutorial/live example on how to mimic email windows on AO3 without the need to use images.
How to make ios text messages on Ao3
This is a tutorial/live example on how to mimic iOS text messages on AO3 without the need to use images. There's also a chapter on how to have emojis displayed on AO3 as well.
How to make Customized page deviders
Bored with the default page dividers? This is a tutorial/live example on how customize your page dividers with no images needed (though I do show you how you could use images if you wanted to do such a thing).
How to make invisible text (That can be highlighted)
This is a live example how to make invisible text that can only be seen by highlighting the text. Tutorial is included in text, and you can always leave comments about questions you may have.
MOBILE USERS: Sadly, this probably won't work for you, since highlighting in a mobile browser is different than web. I've tried correcting this, but have yet to find a solution.
How to make a rounded playlist
Original coding and design is from layouttest. I make no claims for it, just tweaked it so it will work on AO3.
How to create notebook lined paper on Ao3
This is a live example of my AO3 skin that allows the author to recreate the look of lined notebook paper in their work. To learn more about it, you can find the tutorial here.
Sticky notes on Ao3 without using images
This is a live example of my AO3 skin that allows the author to recreate the look of sticky notes (aka Post-Its) in their fic. To learn more about it, you can find the tutorial here.
How to make deadpool’s thinking thinking boxes on Ao3
This is a live example of my AO3 skin that allows the author to recreate the look of Deadpool's thinking boxes in their fic. To learn more about it, you can find the tutorial here.
How to make newspaper articles on Ao3
This is a live example of my AO3 skin that allows the author to recreate the look of a newspaper article in their work. To learn more about it, you can find the tutorial here.
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Cathy Park Hong, from "Spring and All"
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“He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” ― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
they say i killed you (haunt me then)
well, here it is, my first ever gifset. the title for this fic gives me away for the Emily Bronte fangirl that i am and always have been, and it felt fitting to finally bring these babies to life myself as the story winds down to an end that will bring it to over 250k words. and, as per usual, i am nothing without the amazing friend's i've collected like health potions. this set would not have been possible without @emilykaldwen and @aegonx encouraging me and lending me their helping hands. so a million kisses for you both.
#wylla karstark#hotd oc#this is a gorgeous edit#the quote and the black and white is such a vibe#alex tag#lovely ocs
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* —HOTD OC S2 POSTERS
ft. torvi the right eye, rhaerion targaryen, vivienne oleander, fiorella dondarrion, raisa royce, jaedon velaryon, sereana storm, jadis baratheon, & dorannah of wyl.
:@kentaroranda @erraticrandomficwriter, @jewishbarbies , @sgtbuckyybarnes , @decennia , @veetlegeuse, @arrthurpendragon , @raith-way , @scootermcooter , @stanshollaand , @chrissymunson , @foxesandmagic , @eddiemunscns , @waterloou , @endless-oc-creations, @kingsmakers, @https-svnshine, @daughter-of-melpomene,@dyhlanobrien, @fragilestorm , @nolanhollogay , @carmens-garden , @impales , @emilykaldwen, @darkwolf76, @princessmadelines, @iloveocs, @nectarinesrule , @nyrafireheart , @rebloggingocs , @conaionaru , @eddysocs , @xoteajays, @thatmagickjuju
send me a message to be added / removed !
#torvi#rhaerion Targaryen#vivienne oleander#fiorella dondarrion#raisa royce#jaedon velaryon#sereana storm#jadis baratheon#dorannah of wyl#hotd oc#lovely ocs
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fic edits ━━ Gold Rush ━ Shadow & Bone: Anya and Nikolai.
i tried so hard / i came so far / i met a boy / he broke my heart snow angel by renee rapp.
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𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆: 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖿𝖾𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗰𝗲 𐄂 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍: font pack six
all of these fonts are for personal use only and are not optimized for commercial use without a license. you can download the pack by joining my server <3
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Sakari Shiguro in Drowned in Flame
Zuko x OC (Avatar the Last Air Bender)
Sakari accompanied the Prince on his banishment. Daily she would train using her twin sai's against his two broadswords. She had grown up visiting the very center of the Fire Nation Royal Palace. She would play as a child with the royal children and their friends. Very quickly she learned her place. Her father, Colonel Ryoto Shiguro, had too often reminded her that he was the Prince, and that his younger sister was the Princess. Kari was a mere soldier’s child who was allowed to play with them. Nothing more...
Below is my version of drawing her:
(If you want to be added, or taken off of a tag. Just shoot me an ask, specifying. Thanks!)
Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon , @superspookyjanelle , @bravelittleflower , @eddysocs , @twofacedharveydent , @juliaswickcrs , @nadlx33333
#sakari shiguro#atla oc#lovely ocs#if hope that mask means she has her own blue spirit vigilante identity cause that would be iconic
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