#[ Jace draws sometimes ]

[jacenotjason]

The Working Dead

[mxnsterfxckr]

since this textpost was circulating the Starbreaker community I had to bring it to life.

Poor Jace, his loser boyfriend who revived him also can't stop embarrassing him.

[sonasnowdrop]

Drew these yesterday and kinda completely forgot to post lol

Anyway, Azael and Addison are mine but twist and Carmen belong to @jase-is-ace !! I absolutely love their art and ocs and just had to draw them ^_^

[thealphabard]

Dude I don't know. The internet is continuing to be like the actual worst for me as an artist. I love just drawing for me, but I also get excited when people like my work. So when I log into Twitter on my art account and I get 20+ followers of just bots I'm just :( sad

[writtenapoiogy]

consumed by flames; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: bathtub funtime 18+

word count: 2.0k

warnings: nsfw. 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, bathtub sex, jacaerys is a pleaser, jacaerys loves wife!reader and creating heirs, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slight a little more than slight choking, breeding kink, slight dirty talk.

a/n: briefly proofread yet again it is 1am almost 2 and i've been up since 5am yesterday but i had to get this out 😁

You and Jace had just come back from a ride on Vermax. After the war, life on Dragonstone had been peaceful for a short while. Sometimes you wish you and Jace could lock yourselves away at Dragonstone and just kick everyone else out. That sadly, was not possible.

It had been a couple of months since Queen Rhaenyra took her rightful seat on the Iron Throne.

Which means the two of you were also still newlyweds.

Due to the war, You and Jacaerys had to wait to wed, which was dreadful for both parties. Once Rhaenyra had her coronation your wedding ceremony soon took place.

Within the two months since You and Jacaerys spent half that time at the Red Keep enjoying the celebrations and helping get Jace’s younger siblings settled in.

Nearly every day following your wedding, you and your husband had laid together. Every time better than the last.

You and Jacaerys had only been back at Dragonstone for roughly two weeks. The first week was spent wrapped in each other’s warmth. The smells of sex never leaving your chambers. Jacaerys was a man on a mission. He constantly wanted to please you. Teasing you till he knew he was the only one that could satisfy you the way you craved.

After that pleasure-filled week, everything sort of died down. You and Jace had been busy with the tasks of being the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. A weight you were not expecting to be hit with.

Your handmaiden had drawn you a bath to rid you of the sweat and scent of smoke that seeped into your skin. You were about to take off your robe and step into the hot water when your husband walked through the door.

“Jacaerys?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in your husband clad in a robe. “My husband, if you also wish to bathe I am sure we can get someone to draw you one aswell.”

It just dawned on you that this was the first time You and Jace had been alone in almost a week. Alone. Alone without one or the other being asleep. The stresses and demands of the day taking a toll on one of you or, sometimes, both of you.

“I do not wish to bathe alone.” He glided over to you and began to untie your robe. “I do miss my wife.”

Jacaerys ran his hands down your sternum after loosening the knot. You took a deep inhale feeling his fiery touch against your ice-cold skin.

“I keep my bath water quite scalding, my love. I do not wish to harm your skin.”

Jacaerys looked at you with a smirk. “You know the words of House Targaryen. I am Fire and Blood. Warm water will not harm me.”

Jacaerys was right about one thing. He was Fire and Blood. Everything he did set you ablaze. From the way he spoke to the way he looked at you. Oh, gods, and his touch. It was like his hands were made of molten lava. A beautiful contrast to your frigid skin. His warmness brought a sense of comfort to you.

“How could I forget.”

Jace’s lip twitched into a smile. He loved you with his entire being. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He placed his lips on yours in a sweet soft kiss. “Let me help wash you.” He spoke against your lips

“As you wish, my prince.” You stole another kiss from him. Missing his soft lips.

He pushed your robe off your shoulders and watched it cascade to the floor. You breathe in a sharp inhale as your body gets overtaken by the chill in the air. Your nipples harden and Jace cannot take his eyes off of them, even if he tried.

He offers his hand and you gladly take it. He walked you over to the tub not letting go till you had both of your feet in the water. Jace went to grab the new lavender soap that was imported specifically at your request.

As he walked back towards you, you couldn’t help but notice the tent in his robe. Seeing that made you feel an ache deep inside of you. An emptiness that you need to be filled.

“Just lean back, let me take care of you my sweet.”

Jacaerys wet the bar of soap and lathered it onto his hands. The sweet and calm scent engulfed his sense of smell. He set the soap down and began washing you. He started at your neck and shoulders slowly and firmly massaging the soap into your skin

He did this across the entirety of your body. Jace’s touch brought your body aflame. He was avoiding the parts of you that craved his touch, intensely. You let out a low whine when his hands ran down your side lightly passing over the sides of your breasts. The slightest brush and this man had your body consumed by flames.

You heard a light chuckle from behind you. “Do you find something amusing, Husband?”

Jacaerys shook his head, “Not at all.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, inhaling your lavender-infused skin. He ran his hands back up and cupped your breasts this time, you couldn’t help but moan.

“Jacaerys…”

And his hands went back down this time spreading your legs apart and you felt the air leave your lungs.

“Jacaerys..”

He was dragging his hands close to your heat. It was right there. And just when you thought he was going to help dull this ache, he withdrew his hands, again.

“Jace, please. You know what I crave. Why are you withholding it from me.”

“Because it is fun.”

You could feel his sly smirk against your neck.

“Say please.” He demanded, his hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples. He was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything.

“Plea-.”

“In High Valyrian.”

He had been getting you to learn High Valyrian. Something about you knowing his mother tongue made him swell with pride. It made him feel as though it would make your family stronger once you have children.

Also, he found it very very hot.

“Kostilus.”

“Hmm, that’s my girl.” Jacaerys brought one hand to your cheek turning your face to his, to take your lips in a fiery heat.

As soon as his mouth hit yours, your own fell agape. You craned your neck desperately wanting to feel his tongue against yours. Oh, how you both missed this. Feeling so needy for each other. Your tongues lapped at the other. You let out whines and whimpers into his mouth.

His right hand stopped toying with your nipples and slid down to your core. Jace rubbed light circles against your clit, eliciting a moan from deep inside your chest. His hand that was on your cheeky slowly slid down your throat till he wrapped his long fingers around it. This made you break away from the kiss. His amber eyes had such a dark look in them. As if you too lit him aflame.

Feeling him around you like this made you dizzy. Engulfed in his smell. In his heat. The fire in his blood.

When Jace thought you had had enough torture he slid two digits into your entrance, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck, Jace.” Your head lulled back onto his shoulder. You kept eye contact with him. Jace felt some precome leak from his throbbing cock as he looked at you like this. Spread out for him. Slowly grinding your hips down on his fingers. He added a bit more pressure around your neck. Watching as your mouth fell open, you tried to get some more air in your lungs. Solely depending on him for your air, for your desires, for everything.

He kept pumping his fingers into you a such a slow murderous pace. You don’t know how he does it but he had you shaking on the verge of your climax in mere minutes. You were squirming, moaning his name and a litany of curses. You pulled your hand out of the bath water and threw it into his curls. A guttural moan left your lips when the pads of his fingers hit that soft spot deep inside of you.

You came around his fingers with a deep mewl gripping and pulling his hair in the process. The act caused him to whine in your ear. It had been too long. He kept pumping his fingers into you bringing you down from your high. He removed his other hand from your neck and was rubbing you anywhere his hand could reach as he whispered in your ear in High Valyrian. Telling you how good you did.

Somehow in your daze, you understood him.“Get in here with me, please. I wish to feel your skin against mine.” You breathed.

Jacaerys is quick to shed his robe. He pushed you forward slightly and climbed in right behind you. He situated you so that he was able to rub his cock threw your folds. Your chest pressed against his back. You sigh at the feeling of his warm body against yours.

You began to rock your hips, feeling his cock rub through your slit with ease. You heard him breathing heavily in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You tried to speak and tell him how desperately you craved for him to be inside of you. But all you could do was babble. The sensation of his tip as it hit your clit over and over again.

“I know, you do not have to say it. Gods, I know.” Jace lifted you up just enough to position himself at your entrance. He swiftly wrapped his left around around you and slowly eased you onto his cock.

You both gasp when he’s fully seated within you. The head of his cock mushed against that spot again. He somehow always knew how to get to it. Jacaerys, with one hand on your ass cheek and his other wrapped around you, slowly lifted you before he slammed you back down on him. A whimper left your lips, your hands flew to the sides of the bath to prepare yourself for his onslaught.

Even when he was going harder or faster he still managed to fuck you with so much love and tenderness.

Jace began slow. Let you get used to him inside of you again. His pace, which quickened by his third deep thrust, had you saying his name in a tantalizing prayer. He kept going constantly hitting your gspot over and over again. The repetition. The mere torture against your most sensitive spot had you reeling.

Water splashing.

You two moaning each other’s names.

And the smell of lavender and sex was all-consuming to the both of you.

You didn’t know what kind of sounds were leaving your mouth nor did you care. Right now all you cared about was that your sweet husband was finally back inside of you. Pleasing you the way you loved. The way he always does.

Your hips bounced with his movements out of pure instinct. “Jacaerys. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for at this point. But he did. He coaxed you into your second climax of the night. This one hit you hard. Drenching him in your release. You could feel yourself pulsating around his cock. Begging him to come inside of you over and over again.

Jace groaned at the sensation of you coming around him. “Oh you’re gonna look so perfect when my seed takes. When you get all plump from having our heir inside of you.” He kept pumping into you. His thrusts now getting erratic.

“Yes, Gods, please.” You said in a satisfied gasp.

Even his seed was hot. As he came inside of you, you felt his searing essence flow into your cunt. You bore yourself down on him. You wanted nothing more than to keep all of him come inside of you. You wanted to give him an heir. You needed it. You needed his seed to take. The thought of you carrying his child mixed with the feeling of his come leaking out of you had you coming again.

“Fuck.” Jacaerys leaned his forehead against your back as he caught his breath. “We should take more baths together.”

You chuckle, “Oh but how will we ever keep clean, my prince.”

[vividxpages]

˖𓍢ִ໋֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ being Jace’s mirrorball love ˚ ˖𓍢ִִ໋🦢˚˖𓍢ִ✧˚.

being his everything and everyone knowing it. sometimes forgetting the whole world around him because he simply cannot look away from you, wherever you are. frequently stopping in the middle of a sentence, his eyes becoming dazed as he watches you laugh across the room. always gravitating towards you, always wanting to hold your hand and show his family you belong with him. his fingertips itching to reach out and touch the ribbon in your hair, the jewelry he gifted you resting on your collarbone, the promise ring he gave you for your birthday. playing with your fingers in the car or twirling your hair around his finger when you’re hugging. so many cuddle sessions in his room, the blinds either completely closed and enveloping you in darkness or windows thrown wide open, the afternoon sun warming your entangled legs. his thigh between your legs, his face buried in your neck and his calm breath ghosting over your neck. falling asleep with each other, hearts beating in sync. whispering ‘i love you’ into your ear over and over again, as if it’s a secret and he’s not proving it to you every day. knuckles kisses and cupping your cheek in his slender hands like you’re the most precious thing. to him, you are, and he doesn’t care that his brother and mom are teasing him about it. sweet sleepovers and baking cookies together and promising you’ll behave. ending up making out on his bed anyways, his laptop with the movie long forgotten next to you. slow kisses and low moans that leave you both breathless. the little mirrorball you once hung over his bed illuminating your curves and edges to him, his eyes sparkling as he admires you, first with his eyes, then with his body. sinking into his pillows that smell like you and whimpering as he slowly draws star constellations on you, spelling out his name on you with his tongue. bursting into a field of stars as his mouth and fingers take you apart, layer by layer. looking deeply into each other’s eyes when he finally slides home and makes you his all over again, his thrust agonizingly slow and tender. listening to his little whimpers adoringly. brushing the little concentrated frown away from his forehead with your thumb, caressing his beautiful face when he begins to shake and lose his strength on top of you, jaw slack and eyes so full with love. gladly welcoming him into your arms when he does collapse at the end and brushing through his curls as you both calm down and catch your breath. the mirrorball dancing over your naked silhouettes…………

(inspired by "mirrorball" by Taylor Swift. they are also slow dancing to this song, thank you.)

[justanothervigalanty]

things batmom did for her kid’s when they were younger and they still think about! (The robins)

(All art is mine)

Dick

-remodelled his intier room after he mentioned at dinner he missed being able to practise his acrobatics right in tents and not having to ask you to drive him two an hour away gym, so when he was at school you put up some silks, a hoop, mats on the ground just to be safe, but his favourite thing was the flying Grayson’s poster you put above his bed.

-sat down with him for 10 minutes before bed and helped him learn some words from the English dictionary and you always helped with English (as he constantly struggled and still asks for help sometimes reading some emails).

-forced asked Bruce to bye a small motorbike jacket and helmet so you could take dick out on your one from when you were a young adult that you saw him watching as you fixed the engine, Bruce complimented and dick got a bright blue jacket and navy helmet that you wrote dick Grayson on and dick put his painted hand print on the back, (you still have it!).

Jason

-simply hugging him after he started crying and repeatedly apologising after he accidentally called you mom (which turned into ma later on) for the first time, he thought you would get mad but you told him he could call you mom or y/n you didn’t mind only if he wanted to though. -you took him to the library every Monday afternoon, after he told you he wanted to learn how to read better so he wouldn’t be behind when he started school

-You again forced polity asked for another motorbike helmet because Jason had seen your bike in the garage this is how it went:

“Don’t we have a child’s halmet?” “Not for Jace we don’t.” “Why can’t he have Richard’s old one?” “Number one Jace likes red not blue, number two i have had enough of Jason having the second hand treatment, number 3 call him by his nickname you know dick hate’s it when you call him that.” “Fine” “Yay, thanks babe” “You are a child.” “Say that again you’ll be on the couch tonight!” (From out the room)

so yea Jason got his own red version off the helmet. (You still havethis one two, right next to dick’s on a shelf)

Tim

-this one is very simple but it means a lot to Tim. You and Bruce had been arguing a lot after Jason’s death and one night you took Tim and when out to coffee shop. You just didn’t want to be around Bruce and we’re not about to leave another one of your sons with him. Well you and Tim spent around 3 hours at the coffee place and during those 3 hours Tim asked if Jason would hate him for replacing him. So you spent the next 2 and a half hours talking about how Jason would off loved Tim or how Tim was his own person or reassuring him that he wasn’t the cause for all the arguments or that dick would come around eventually but was still hurting really badly after Jason died.

-you were the first person Tim came out to saying he had a crush on kon’al Kent or when kon asked him out he asked your opinion for everything! What to wear, how to act, what to say. Everything!

Damian (I can’t draw Damian 🥲 so I found this)

-Damian din’t like you at all so when you learn Aribic he was shocked to hear *good morning* come from your mouth he was surprised! You did this for 2 things. 1 two help Damian feel more comfortable and 2 so you could cuss out talia for sleeping with Bruce.

-you had some fencing equipment put out so Damian wouldn’t continue to butcher your lawn. (The poor bushes)

-you yelled at talia multiple times for miss treating YOUR son badly.

-and you helped dick bye Damian bat cow

[axelsagewrites]

How They React to Your Period

Includes: Aemond, Aegon, Jace, Cregan, Luke

Word count: 1073

Masterlist Here

Aemond

Aemond had no time for anyone’s short comings, emotions, or excuses as he saw them however when it came to you, he would bend over backwards to make you comfortable especially during your bloods. despite it being a perfectly normal thing for women to deal with Aemond would send for the maesters each month to make sure you had enough herbs and medicines to avoid any pain.

when he felt the maesters were not taking your pain seriously enough not only would he threaten them, but he would send out words to track down the best female healer in Kingslanding and have her personally tend to you and your ailments. he could sometimes be too clinical about your bloods and would be caught off guard by your tears or anger as he could barely regulate his own emotions let alone his own, but he always tried.

when the female healer told him sex was something that could help alleviate your monthly pains, he was apprehensive at first however he never expected it to be something that almost turned him on. unlike some other men he did not run away from your touch during your blood but instead found it as an exciting change and the pain relief for you just made it all the better.

Aegon

Aegon was not sure why his betrothed would almost avoid him once a month for days before acting like nothing had happened. At first, he got quite concerned, wondering if you were growing bored of him as the few times, he saw you during this time you would be quite tired or short with him at points. after a few months he became used to your routine but could never quite understand.

he noticed he could coax you out your chambers with the promise of cakes and sweet wines. he would offer to take you riding with sunfyre to almost lift your spirits and when you did take him up on the offer, he noticed how protective he was of you. it wasn’t until the week after your wedding when he woke in a panic at the blood-stained sheets did, he learn why once a month you had been avoiding him.

Aegon was horrified at the idea of the red flower blooming, declaring the gods were twisted for making you bleed with no reward. he became extremely sympathetic, showering you with sweets and cakes during your time of the month and would excuse himself from his duties early to curl up in bed with you. he was also very upset his mother had never prepared him for this and apologised for thinking you were being dramatic or distant.

Jace

Jace had been taught all there was to know about a woman’s bloods. his mother had insisted when he went through his own change, he learn what his future wife would have to endure. this made Jace a very welcome presence during your monthly visits. it was something you were extremely thankful Rhaenyra had taught him.

when your time came, he was always prepared and would send for a bath to be drawn each day so you could feel your best. if it came unexpectedly, he would have spare sheets stashed under your bed so he could quickly change them without you needing to wait for a servant to come in the middle of the night. he would also make sure to speak with the kitchen the week before to ensure they were stocked on your favourites.

Jace secretly enjoyed this time since you would often turn to him for comfort in the form of cuddles and napping on his chest, a sight he loved to see. he would draw the curtains and leave only the fire flickering while he pulled you under the furs, wrapping his arms around you tightly and showing you with kind words.

Cregan

Cregan gets a bit caught off guard when you discuss your blood with him. while you are both used to being open and at time blunt, he is used to men and the men in Winterfell simply do not discuss this issue. the man most would consider something to fear would soon become squeamish when you had to explain to him what it was you endured.

he did his best not to show his confusion and always tried to comfort you through it. he was apprehensive at first of you doing things during your bloods. he would offer to let you skip out on any duties and lay in bed, but you had to inform him that most women don’t get a break despite their bloods, and he struggled to understand how woman could work while they had their bloods.

Cregan would eventually learn how to help you and anything you asked him for he would retrieve. he surprised you one late evening by guiding you out to the godswood in the biting cold and leading you to a hot spring that often went unnoticed by anyone who did not grow up in the castle. as it turns out the hot springs in Winterfell are one of the best solvers of the flower’s discomforts.

Luke

Luke is just confused. he doesn’t understand why his betrothed keeps crying until he gives her his lemon tart out of concern. he doesn’t understand why the thought of an untamed dragon would make you tear up in fear it would become lonely. he doesn’t understand why you became extra touchy and clingy only to push him away a moment later.

when he asked his elder brother about your behaviour, he was promptly whisked to his mothers’ chambers to learn all there was to know about the red flower. and he was horrified. Luke came up to you after learning about it, pale faced and sweaty, to ask how it was you coped with bleeding for so long.

after a few jokes at his expense and him genuinely trying to learn he soon learned not to take your attitude during this time to heart. instead, Luke began to send small gifts to your chambers during this time. a rose, a heart shaped rock, a necklace, cakes, bread made into your house sigil. he had no clue what he was doing but he would always try his best to help, and gods help anyone who made a joke about a woman’s blood in front of him since he would turn feral as he defended you.

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila

[kollux748]

HoTD ABOverse Jacegan-centric fic idea.

I cannot write a full fanfic for the life of me because my grammar is shit and there’d be so much repetition, and I don’t want to give out crap. But I’ll share this idea out because I want it out of my head.

(Notable) Alphas:

Viserys I Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Harwin Strong

Daemon Targaryen

Cregan Stark (b. 108 AC; presented at age 11)

Rhaenys Targaryen

Baela Targaryen (b. 116 AC; presented at age 12)

Aegon II Targaryen (b. 106 AC; presented at age 12)

Aemond Targeryen (b. 110 AC; presented at age 10)

Joffrey Targaryen (b. 117 AC; presented at age 12)

(Notable) Betas:

Corlys Velaryon

Laenor Velaryon

Criston Cole

Otto Hightower

Larys Strong

(Notable) Omegas:

Alicent Hightower

Helaena Targaryen (b. 109 AC; presented at age 10)

Daeron Targaryen (b. 114 AC; presented at age 12)

Jacaerys Targaryen-Strong (b. late 114 AC; presented at age 14)

Lucerys Velaryon (b. late 115 AC; presented at age 15)

Laena Velaryon

Rhaena Targaryen (b. 116 AC; presented at age 12)

Arra Norrey (b. ~116 AC; Cregan Stark’s first mate; presented at age 10)

Unpresented (because they’re children):

Viserys II Targaryen

Aegon III Targaryen

Jaehaerys Targaryen

Jaehaera Targaryen

Rickon Stark

Valyrian Alphas and Omegas are rare, a class where the old Valyrians would (with magic at the time) change their sexes accordingly to match the ideal parts of their presentation (Alphas with cocks, Omegas with cunts). The change is most painful for a male Valyrian Omega, as it often involves castration and months-long process of the body developing a womb and vaginal productive system. The change often made it easier for male omegas to handle birthing, and for female alphas to bond with and mate male omegas.

Jacaerys is a Valyrian Omega. He spent nearly half a year a-bed during his presentation.

Baela is a Valyrian Alpha, Daemon’s particular pride and joy.

Alpha-Omega relationships are most ideal, as well as Alpha-Alpha. Omega-Omega is not common. The only pairing that is subject to criticism and often humiliation is Beta-Omega.

True or Fated bond mates exist, but are rarely encountered (among high-folk mostly because arranged marriages and such). Characterized by an irresistible draw to each other, and the inability to mate with any other if they’ve met their fated mate. Any pre-existing bonds are often rejected and dissolved (by magic ABO happenings). Cregan and Jacaerys are one such pair, of course.

Side note: I cannot believe that while looking up when all the characters were born, that Arra Norrey was apparently born sometime before 116 AC. Jacaerys was born late 114 AC, so if we go by that reference of age, Arra may have been a child bride. Then again, she was said to be Cregan’s childhood best friend, and Cregan is about 6 years older than Jace.

Also, these ages are so screwed, it’s a whole mental map trying to set everything so they don’t conflict with times and each other ages. :P Also show timeline does not match book timeline, so that adds another hiccup. At this point, I’m basically mix-and-matching.

Basic Plot Points:

What if Rhaenyra did worry about what her first pregnancy with Harwin’s child that resulted in Jace, about his looks? And she grew so worried and disappointed when he did inherit Harwin’s colorings that she gave him away out of desperation.

A few days after Jacaerys’ birth, when rumors grew of Rhaenyra’s infidelity to Laenor, Rhaenyra arranged to have Jacaerys “kidnapped” or “killed” and one of her ladies-in-waiting took the babe away from the Keep and gave him to a random woman on the street, who turned out to be one of the whores of the Street of Silk. Could be Mysaria. Vermax had hatched and bonded with Jace, so Mysaria is stuck with a baby and his dragon.

Despite her disapproval of Rhaenyra’s affair with Harwin Strong resulting in a child, Alicent found it more insulting and repulsive that Rhaenyra obviously arranged the disappearance of her first-born. It grew more bothersome when Rhaenyra continued the affair and produced Lucerys and Joffrey, and kept them to avoid anymore suspicion that she was getting rid of her bastards. Rhaenyra was also weighed with the guilt of giving away her first baby boy, and heavily regretted it after experiencing the joys of motherhood with Lucerys.

Time skips galore to Laena’s death and funeral, where Aemond bonds with Vhagar. On the joy ride that is his first flight, he encounters Jace riding Vermax, but he doesn’t get to speak with him. He doesn’t mention the encounter to anyone, especially after Lucerys, Baela, and Rhaena confronted him about Vhagar and he loses his eye. When he’s better, he investigates Jace and Vermax, and they become close friends over a few weeks. Aemond is the one to teach Jacaerys High Valyrian, starting with basic dragon commands.

Alicent eventually finds out about Jacaerys and his parentage, she and Otto resolve to foster him in the Keep, to one day use to their advantage. They manage to manipulate a sickly Viserys into legitimizing Jacaerys as a Targaryen and Lord Strong of Harrenhal, all while keeping the news from reaching Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. This is around 126 AC.

(Current) Titles:

Prince Jacaerys Targaryen, Lord Strong of Harrenhal

Prince Lucerys Velaryon, Heir to Dragonstone

Prince Joffrey Velaryon, Heir to Driftmark

Lady Baela Targaryen

Lady Rhaena Targaryen

Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell

According to the timeline I set, it should be about 128 AC when Jacaerys presents as an omega while he is living at and helping restore Harrenhal. Upon receiving a raven about his falling ill while presenting and 3 months passing since Jacaerys last was conscious, Aemond took residence at Harrenhal and vigilantly protected him. This is also the year that Arra Norrey canonically dies while giving birth to Rickon Stark.

Baela and Rhaena present in 128 AC as well.

Around 129-130 AC, Lucerys Velaryon presents as an omega, and Joffrey as an alpha. Viserys hosts a tourney in their honor, celebrating the presentation of his favored grandchildren (miffing Alicent as there was no such celebration held for her own children). Rhaenyra and Daemon convince Viserys to invite among the lords, Cregan Stark, after learning of his recent widowing in the hopes that they can secure an alliance with the North by betrothing Lucerys to Cregan.

The hosts traveling from the North are welcomed midway at a near-completely renovated Harrenhal by Jacaerys and Aemond. They spend a day resting, and those who do not wish to rest are invited to join a small hunting party with Jacaerys leading. Vermax is about as big as Syrax, having grown more free-range at Harrenhal than most dragons. Jacaerys bonds with many of the knights and lords in the hunting party, but gets along the most with Cregan.

Upon arriving at King’s Landing, the host of Harrenhal, including Aemond and Jacaerys, accompany that of the houses of the North. Jacaerys and Aemond are the last announced after Cregan Stark, having landed Vhagar and Vermax together on the beach, and this is the first time Rhaenyra hears of Jacaerys.

Jacaerys knows that Rhaenyra is his mother, and he holds resentment towards her. At some point during the festivities, he publicly or privately confronts Rhaenyra with the show!canon monologue:

“Did you think I would have dark hair? When you took Harwin Strong into your bed, did you think I might favor him, or did it not cross your mind?”

Rhaenyra attempts to calm him and show that she regrets her past decision heavily, but Jacaerys cannot forgive her for the years of anguish he went through without his true mother. Much of his resentment lies in that after abandoning him, she went on to have two more children just like him.

Meanwhile, Lucerys attempts to bond with Cregan, driven by Daemon and Rhaenyra’s suggestion for him to consider the Lord of Winterfell as a possible mate. He is constantly in the company of Baela, Rhaena, and Joffrey as they observe all the knights and lords. Daeron Targaryen is also present, and he is Lucerys’ rival for Cregan Stark’s attentions.

The relationship between Jacaerys and Lucerys is bitter. Lucerys sees Jacaerys as a threat to him in every facet of his life, and he cannot believe that Jacaerys may be his older brother who his mother abandoned. Jace being legitimized as the son of Rhaenyra and Harwin poses a threat to Lucerys and Joffrey, as it casts a heavier shadow onto the boys. And Rhaenyra refuses to publicly acknowledge Jacaerys as her own at the expense of Lucerys and Joffrey. As a result, he is antagonistic towards Jace, and his closest friends Baela, Rhaena, and Joffrey support him. He is also slightly scared of Jace because wherever he is, Aemond is sure to be close by.

Daeron and Jacaerys aren’t necessarily friends as Jace is with the rest of Daeron’s siblings, but they aren’t “enemies” like Luke and Jace. He manages to spy upon Cregan and Jace, and realizes that he and Lucerys have no chance at Cregan, so he backs off seriously considering him as a mate. He does continue to rile Lucerys up with taunts, because he finds it funny and cute, in an odd way.

The highlight of the tourney is the crowning of the Queen of Love and Beauty, which is an honor for the tourney champion to bestow to a lady or omega of their choosing. Despite being a lord, Cregan is known as one of the best swordsman of Westeros, therefore his participation is expected. It becomes rumored to all attending that either Prince Lucerys Velaryon or Prince Daeron Targaryen are expectant to be crowned by the lord, and their respective mothers Rhaenyra and Alicent may betroth their omega son to the lord as a result. It comes as a surprise to most of the royal family when Cregan crowns Prince Jacaerys instead (except for Aemond and Helaena because they are his closest friends, and Helaena could sort of tell with her dream-seer powers; Aegon bluntly states that it was obvious to anyone not lovesick for Stark).

Cregan officially courts Jacaerys, and they decide to marry/mate any or all of three ways: by the Old Gods, respecting Cregan’s heritage; the Faith of the Seven, respecting Jacaerys’ beliefs; and the Old Valyrian tradition, respecting Jacaerys’ heritage as a Targaryen.

Side note: An alternative and more dramatic take to this is Daemon and Rhaenyra successfully arranging with Viserys for Cregan to mate with Lucerys after the tourney, but frustrated and driven to his wits end, Cregan mates Jacaerys under the Weirwood tree the night before the last day of the tourney, during a feast/dance. Rhaenyra tries to resolve this by proposing Cregan follow Aegon I’s example and mate Lucerys for duty while keeping Jacaerys for love. The issue is that once an alpha takes his true omega, attempting to claim another tends to get rather bloody. Historically, most alphas or omegas tend to be torn apart by both the alpha and their true mate if they try. And also, Cregan did not want to have two or more mates. As he tells Rhaenyra “You would submit your son to an empty life. I would never love him as I love my Prince Jacaerys. I would never bed him, not even for duty. He would waste away in the cold of the North, constantly longing for a better life til his dying day.”

A couple of tiny and side moments:

Jacaerys and Mysaria being mother and son, because she raised him for a bit before he was discovered by Alicent.

Jacaerys wears some extravagant and more…revealing outfits than in the show. May be influenced by being raised in a brothel house…also he is an omega so they do have a bit more freedom in dressing pretty. Jacaerys is a very beautiful omega, basically.

Cregan and Jace have some training battles, because Jace is also a fighter and a Lord, so he must know how to fight. Cregan appreciates that Jacaerys is not a dainty and demure omega; he proves to have a raging fire that can conquer the coldest of winters in the North.

Jace and Daemon do not like each other. Daemon despises Jace’s very existence because his position threatens Rhaenyra’s claim as well as their little peace. And he gets in the way of everything. And the Strong host just loves messing with Daemon and humbling, as is show canon. Simon Strong is definitely with Jacaerys the entire time of the tourney.

Jace and Baela would’ve definitely been betrothed were they not sort of enemies on circumstance. However, my stance on incest is that I don’t support it, not even slightly. So I don’t see any potential for a threesome between Jace, Baela, and Cregan.

Sara Snow may be a part of Cregan’s party in tourney, if she’s not taking care of Rickon in the North. And if she is, Cregan asked her to craft the crown of flowers that he gives to Jace. It’s this crown of flowers that has all the omegas and ladies attending the tourney bumbling with excitement that they might be on the receiving end of it.

Corlys and Rhaenys become more upset at the evidence that Jacaerys, and by extension Lucerys and Joffrey, are not true Velaryons. Rhaenys always firmly believed Rhaenyra got rid of Jacaerys because he was not Laenor’s, so when it was officially announced, she was done. The only saving grace is that Baela and Rhaena are definitely Laena’s, and they may or may not be betrothed to Lucerys and Joffrey respectively…

Lucerys eventually accepts that his mother screwed them all over and sowed the seeds they reap. Moreover, he reconciles with Jacaerys and learns how to be a younger brother. Aemond still creeps him out by lurking in the shadows.

End Notes:

I am not TG, and I do cast a dark light on Rhaenyra and Lucerys especially with this narrative, but I needed some drama with it. Anyways, I’m glad I could blurb this out to stop thinking about it so much. Sorry I won’t be writing a full fic to anyone who would be interested in reading it.

[spiiicysoda]

King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. its jace and i would like to briefly explain my idea of the background: in middle age monarchs were deeply connected to the religion and church. targaryens are the part of the faith of the seven and the main symbols of this religion are:

The Father: represents divine justice, and judges the souls of the dead.

The Mother: represents mercy, peace, fertility, and childbirth. She is sometimes referred to as "the strength of women".

The Maiden: represents purity, innocence, love, and beauty.

The Crone: represents wisdom and foresight. She is represented carrying a lantern.

The Warrior: represents strength and courage in battle.

The Smith: represents creation and craftsmanship.

The Stranger: represents death and the unknown. It is rarely prayed to.

in my drawing skeleton arms are the Stranger, hand with lily represents the Maiden, hand with hammer - the Smith, two hands above head - the Father, with sword - the warrior, the one with heart and wheat - the Mother (sometimes people pray to her to bless the harvest), and the hand with light is the Crone (usually she is depicted with lantern but it wasn't suited here lol)

[jacenotjason]

people said my skiddad interpretation looked like a cat

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon II - Counterblow

Summary:

Aemond struggles with his actions and Rhaenyra recieves word of her daughter.

Warning(s): Flashback of Memories, Obsessive Thoughts, Remorse, Imprisonment, Angst, Threats.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 3055

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

‘No, no, no-Vhagar no- Daor. Serve me Vhagar-No. Dohaerās, Vhagar!’

But it was no use, she wouldn’t listen. Even as he desperately pulled on her reins.

Vaelys’ scream of terror as Vhagar lurched through the clouds and enclosed her gargantuan jaws around the younger and much smaller dragon.

The young dragon surely knew her life was forfeit, but in a desperate last ditch attempt to save the life of her rider, the dragon rolled to the side and as Vhagar’s teeth embedded in her flesh, severing the straps of the saddle, she used the last ebbs of her life to throw her rider from her back.

This wasn’t what he wanted.

His heart pounding furiously in his chest as he watched Vaelys plummet through the darkened sky.

Pieces of her dragons body falling around her.

“VHAGAR-” screamed Aemond.

The thunder echoing in through the sky, the rain soaking him to the bone.

“-Dohaerās Vhagar”

The elder dragon roared furiously again but this time, she listened.

Aemond tugged hard on the reins and prompted Vhagar to fly as fast as she could, Vaelys would not survive a fall from this height, her body was flailing uncontrollably.

Vhagar managed to soar past Vaelys and Aemond reached out and snagged Vaelys by the cloak, her body landing on Vhagar with a heavy thud.

She was knocked unconscious from the force of her landing and her head was bleeding, but she was alive.

She was alive. She was –

Aemond lurched awake, his body shaking as he looked wildly around the darkened room.

His heart racing in his chest, as he realised where he was.

In his chambers. In the Red Keep, with his wife sleeping next to him.

His wife that he’d brought here after saving her. From an accident that he’d caused.

Memories of the consummation swirled around his mind, he could still hear the sound of her pained whimper as he entered her.

He’d tried his best to shield her from the eyes of the witnesses and despite her discomfort, she had reached for him afterwards.

She had asked him to hold her, and he couldn’t refuse.

Sharing his bed wasn’t something that he was used too, but he’d held Vaelys against him all night, her breath warm against his skin.

It took him a while to find sleep and he found himself thinking of Vaelys when she was younger, such a pretty thing she was-silver hair and amethyst eyes so light that she looked almost ethereal.

They would all laugh at him-but not her. Never her. She would always follow him, tripping over the hem of her dresses.

It used to annoy him, he always found her lurking in some corner gazing at him, she would bring him honey cakes, make him daisy chains, and draw him pictures.

He remembered how upset she got when no one would play swords with her, she didn’t listen when she was told it was for boys, she didn’t want to learn sewing-she said it was boring. But the hurt look on her face when she was shouted at for not acting proper had made Aemond’s insides squirm.

She was a girl-she was annoying-she was pretty, and she was kind to him, so when no one was looking he took a wooden training sword and handed it to her. When she smiled so brightly at him, he could have sworn that his heart stopped.

But she left the Red Keep not to long after that, taken to Dragonstone by her mother.

Aemond found himself missing her, sometimes he would stare across Blackwater Bay wishing that she would come back and despite how annoying she was, she was the only friend he had.

He was excited to see her again on Driftmark, but her brother Jace kept pulling her away from him, he tried to be kind, but Jace wouldn’t accept it.

That was the night he’d gained a dragon and lost an eye. Vaelys had tried to stop the fight, but she had been pulled away by one of her sisters.

In the aftermath she had tried to visit him, but he sent her away, not wanting her to look upon his ruined face.

He didn’t see her again until she had returned to Kings Landing with her family to defend her bastard brothers claim to Driftmark, he was in the middle of a training session with and Cole and there she was-gods she was so beautiful.

But she didn’t smile at him, she frowned and turned away linking her arm with her brothers and it made his blood boil.

Even in the throne room, she stood beside those strong boys and never once cast him a glance, not even when blood was spilt. She just stood there; her lips curled into a little smirk.

At the dinner, she sat in between him and Helaena, she smiled at something his sister had said to her and he felt jealous-her smile belonged to him and no one else.

After the dinner, Rhaenyra had returned to Dragonstone with her brood of bastards and once again Vaelys disappeared from his life, yet unbeknownst to him-fate would intervene.

After his father had died and Aegon had been crowned as King, he’d been sent to Storms End to choose a Baratheon Bride.

Plain faced and dark haired-they didn’t smile at him. They were nothing compared to her.

Then she was there, soaking wet from the rain, a messenger rallying support for her mother.

She didn’t smile at him-she glared, her lip curling in disgust at his reasons for being there.

Baratheon had the audacity to ask for her hand in marriage-no she couldn’t, he wouldn’t let her, but then she declared she wasn’t free to marry, she was betrothed to that northern dog Cregan Stark.

Something inside him roared to life when he heard that, he wanted to stop it from happening, to take her for himself-but instead he drew his dagger and demanded her eye.

She refused-then she had mocked him, the Baratheon bitch next to him had failed to stifle her giggle and he was livid.

After she had left, he mounted his dragon and chased after her.

He could still hear her screaming-

Suddenly Vaelys shifted against his body, and he held his breath, not wanting to wake her, eventually she settled and he soon found himself drifting to sleep, with the sound of his wife’s screaming still echoing in his ears.

“What did you do today?” asked Aemond as he shut the chamber door.

“Your joking, right?” mused Vaelys.

“I’m simply interested in how you spent your day” muttered Aemond.

“Well, I read that book on your nightstand three times, I rearranged your desk-twice, but then I moved everything back just in case you weren’t agreeable to what I’d done and then I spent the rest of my time staring out the window counting the birds” replied Vaelys.

“Hmm”

“Am I your prisoner or your wife?” quipped Vaelys.

“You are my wife-“ replied Aemond folding his arms behind his back.

“-Then why have I been locked in here all day?”

“You know why” muttered Aemond.

“Please-valzȳrys, its only been a day and I’m losing my mind-surely there must be something you can do to convince the King or the hand. Even if it was just for an hour in the gardens” begged Vaelys.

“I’m not sure if that’s-“

“-Please Aemond” muttered Vaelys.

Aemond stared into his wife’s light amethyst eyes and could feel his resolve crumbling.

“I will make arrangements for you to be allowed access to the gardens and mayhaps you can spend time with Helaena, but it will be under the company of myself, or a guard and I must ask that you do not attempt to rally support for your mother or speak against the King” said Aemond sternly.

“I just want to be able to leave this room” said Vaelys brightly.

“I mean it Vaelys-if you utter one word against Aegon then you’ll be confined to our chambers indefinitely” warned Aemond.

“Fine-“ snarked Vaelys folding her arms across her chest, as much as she was loathe to agree, she had to get out of this room.

Rhaenyra stood in the dimly lit chamber, her hand trembling as it reached out to grasp the blood-stained sheet that lay before her. It was a gruesome reminder of the horrors that had unfolded, a stark testament to the cruelty that had befallen her daughter.

With a heavy heart, she unfolded the fabric, each crimson smear a painful echo of the violence that had stained it. The metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air; a sickening reminder of the lives that had been shattered by this senseless act.

Her eyes fell upon the note that accompanied the grisly offering; the words etched upon it like a damning indictment of the sins committed. "An eye for an eye, blood for blood, my brother's debt has been paid." The message was clear, a chilling declaration of vengeance exacted.

Rage boiled within her veins, a fiery tempest threatening to consume her from within. How dare they? How dare anyone lay claim to her daughter's innocence, to spill blood in the name of some twisted notion of retribution?

But amidst the fury, a cold realization settled over her like a shroud. This was not just an act of random cruelty; it was a calculated strike, a deliberate attempt to force her to terms.

Daemon’s fury burned hotter than the molten rivers of Valyria itself. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, trembling with the intensity of his rage.

The news of Vaelys' captivity and forced marriage to Aemond had ignited a primal fury within him, one that threatened to consume him whole.

"I'll mount Caraxes and rain down fire upon them all," Daemon growled, his voice thick with barely contained fury. "I'll reduce King's Landing to ash and cinder. No one will dare to lay a hand on our daughter again!"

But Rhaenyra, the voice of reason in the tempest of his wrath, stepped forward, her expression grave yet resolute. "Daemon, we cannot risk harm befalling Vaelys," she implored, her voice firm yet tinged with the same anguish that plagued her husband's heart. "As much as it pains me, we must exercise caution. We cannot afford to act recklessly and put her in even greater danger."

Daemon's gaze softened as he turned to look upon his wife, the fire in his eyes dimming ever so slightly in the face of her unwavering resolve. He knew she spoke the truth, even though every fibre of his being screamed for vengeance.

With a heavy sigh, Daemon nodded reluctantly, his jaw clenched tight with the effort to rein in his rage. "You're right, my love," he conceded, his voice tinged with bitterness. "But mark my words, those who have wronged us will pay dearly for their sins. No one crosses House Targaryen and lives to boast of it."

Together, they stood united in their grief and their determination to bring Vaelys home safely. Though the fires of vengeance burned bright within Daemon's heart, he knew that he could not act rashly. For the sake of their daughter, they would bide their time and strike when the moment was right. And when they did, the skies would tremble with the fury of dragons unleashed.

"So, we just leave Vaelys in that nest of vipers, to have Aemond force himself upon her as many times as he likes?" snapped Baela, her words laced with the bitterness of frustration and anger.

Her amethyst eyes blazed with a fierce intensity as she paced the chamber, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Rhaenyra's heart ached at the raw pain in her stepdaughters voice, the anguish mirrored in her eyes. She could feel the weight of her desperation pressing down upon her like a suffocating blanket. But she knew all too well the dangers they faced, the precariousness of their situation.

"Baela, please," implored Rhaenyra, her voice trembling with emotion. "We cannot act rashly. To mount our dragons now would only bring about more bloodshed, more suffering. We must tread carefully, for Vaelys' sake."

But Baela's frustration knew no bounds, her fury boiling over like a raging tempest. "I will not stand idly by while my sister suffers!" she declared, her voice echoing off the stone walls of the chamber. "I will not allow Aemond to defile her honour any longer."

Daemon's jaw clenched with a steely resolve as he exchanged a silent glance with Rhaenyra. He understood his daughter’s anguish all too well, the burning desire for vengeance that consumed him from within. But he also knew the dangers of acting recklessly, of allowing their emotions to cloud their judgment.

"Baela," said Daemon firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "We will rescue Vaelys, of that I swear. But we must be patient and strategic. We cannot afford to risk any harm coming to her."

Baela's gaze softened slightly, a flicker of resignation crossing her features. She knew her parents spoke the truth, even if it pained hers to admit it.

With a heavy sigh she nodded, her resolve unwavering. "Very well," she conceded, her voice heavy with defeat. "But know this: I will not rest until my sister is safe once more, no matter the cost."

"It should have been me, going to Storm's End," whispered Luke, his voice heavy with guilt.

The words hung in the air like a lament, echoing the depths of his despair. He could feel the weight of every decision he had ever made, every action he had taken—or failed to take—pressing down upon him like a relentless tide.

"If I had insisted, if I had fought harder-" muttered Luke his voice trailed off, choked by the bitterness of regret. The image of his older sisters sweet smile, her laughter ringing in his ears, only served to fuel the flames of his anguish.

Rhaenyra's heart broke at the sight of her son's anguish, the pain etched upon his features like a scar. She reached out to him, her touch gentle yet filled with a profound sorrow. "Lucerys, my sweet boy,"  murmured Rhaenyra, her voice soft with sympathy. "You mustn't blame yourself. You couldn't have known what would happen."

But Lucerys shook his head, unable to shake the gnawing sense of guilt that threatened to consume him whole. "I should have protected her," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have been there for her when she needed me most."

Daemon placed a reassuring hand on his stepson’s shoulder, his own expression heavy with sorrow. "We all share in this burden, Lucerys," he said, his voice steady yet filled with empathy. "But now is not the time for self-recrimination. We must focus on Vaelys and bringing her home, safe and unharmed."

But Daemon’s words could stop Luke’s stomach from churning with a sickening mixture of rage and despair as he grappled with the horrifying truth.

His sister, Vaelys, defiled by Aemond in some twisted retribution for the eye he had lost during their fateful fight on Driftmark all those years ago.

The memories flooded back with a brutal clarity, each blow exchanged between himself and Aemond etched into his mind like scars upon his soul.

But nothing could have prepared him for the sheer horror of learning what Aemond had done to his sister. The mere thought of her suffering at the hands of that monster sent a wave of revulsion coursing through him, threatening to consume him with its intensity.

Guilt clawed at his heart like a savage beast, tearing at the very fabric of his being. He had failed her, he realized with a sickening sense of dread. Failed to protect her, failed to keep her safe from harm. And now, she bore the scars of his failure, a burden she should never have had to bear.

Rage boiled within him like molten lava, threatening to erupt from his very core. He longed to unleash his fury upon Aemond, to exact a vengeance so terrible that even the gods themselves would tremble at its sight. But he knew that such thoughts were futile, that they would only serve to lead him further down the path of darkness.

Rhaenyra approached him, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and sympathy. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, a silent offering of solace in the midst of his anguish. "Luke," she said softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "I know the pain you must be feeling, but we cannot let our emotions cloud our judgment. We must remain strong, for Vaelys' sake".

"We should tell Jace," insisted Luke, his tone laced with desperation. "He deserves to know what's happened to Vaelys”.

Rhaenyra's expression hardened with resolve as she met her son's gaze, her jaw set with determination. "No," said Rhaenyra firmly, her voice brooking no argument. "We cannot burden him with this knowledge, not yet”.

"But he has a right to know," Luke protested, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. "He's her brother too”.

Rhaenyra shook her head, her resolve unyielding. "I cannot risk Jace acting rashly, putting himself—and Vaelys—in even greater danger," she explained, her voice tinged with sorrow. "We must handle this delicately, with caution. Jace cannot be trusted to think clearly in his current state."

Luke's frustration boiled over, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "And what of Vaelys?" he demanded, his voice rising with emotion. "Do we simply leave her to suffer in silence, have her think that we don’t care”.

Rhaenyra's gaze softened with sympathy as she reached out to her son, a silent gesture of comfort amidst the storm of their emotions. "No," she said softly, her voice heavy with regret. "But we must trust in each other, in our family. We will find a way to save Vaelys, together."

With a heavy heart, Luke nodded, his anger tempered by his mother's words. He knew that she spoke the truth, that they must rely on each other now more than ever.

And though the path ahead was fraught with danger and uncertainty, he found solace in the knowledge that they would face it together, as a family.

[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 3;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them tbh, it's Harshest Winters we're talking about;

Word Count: 10k+

Author's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE!! I'm honestly overwhelmed by the love this fic got in the span of so little time 😭 I hope you guys enjoy this part as well! Thank you so much for being so patient with me <3

Also, this chapter is FILTHY. I'm talking actual smut for the first time in my life, which makes me both nervous and embarrassed to be posting this lol

I know that the people who read this particular series are already used to the graphic content ahead, but consider this your fair warning :"))

PART 4 IS OUT NOW <3

As night swallows the world of Westeros, four beating hearts must get through the challenges that arise in the absence of sunlight.

Desire is the death of duty - fear pushes against the voice of reason.

Dreams really are the window to the soul sometimes.

One… Two… Three… Four.

Aemond’s breathing came and went in slow and labored pants. Whatever the man was dreaming about must have had quite the effect on him, and the lady scoffed to herself, while pushing down a disdainful huff.

Slowly, yet surely, her head rolled to the side. She could still see him in her periphery - the deep creases that adorned his forehead, a permanent reminder of his relentless character; the way his chest heaved each exhale, as if constantly pained by an unknown affliction.

Good, she thought to herself, At least his dreams should torment him, if his psyche won't allow it.

In… And out. In… Out.

Three weeks had passed since her brazen attempt to escape with Cain. Three weeks, since she left the wounded knight in the cave: to rot or to crawl back by himself.

Back.

Back to where?

Back home? That much was impossible.

Back to the Saltpans? And from there on… what?

Three weeks. Three weeks had passed to account for her life back in Harrenhal. Three weeks of sleeping in the same bed as him, three weeks in which her only waking thought was to grab a pillow and smother him with it as he slept soundly by her side.

Goosebumps crawled over her skin, leaving the lady restless and aggravated. She’d twist and turn more times than she could count - she’d curse herself and her current situation: her weakness, her inability to kill Aemond then and there.

She had to live. She had promised Jace that much, and she would honor her word.

There would be a time for Aemond to meet his end. And it would be by her hand.

Jace.

If he were here, he’d know what to do.

Her thoughts turned sporadic. For a few moments, the girl clenched her fists so hard that her knuckles turned white - squeezing harder as her anger built up. Each of her fingernails bit into the softness of her palm, and she could feel herself draw harsher breaths, in and out: all in a desperate attempt to calm herself down.

Her heart beat loudly, and her body trembled in unquenched rage.

She could still kill him now; Gods, how she wished nothing more adherently than that. And why not kill him - for his death would avenge Jacaerys, Luke… Cain.

Indeed, here she was, laying down next to the Kinslayer, one step away from wrapping her small fingers against his throat and pushing down with an unrivaled force and fury.

Before she could fully process her own actions, (Y/N) slowly rose from her resting place. The wide bed made a deep creaking sound, which echoed throughout the room for a couple of moments.

One, two, three seconds she allowed herself to wait.

The girl remained unmoving, as she took in a sharp breath, and held it in the back of her throat.

Her weary eyes skimmed over Aemond’s sleeping form, and her whole body stiffened in anticipation. When she noticed his lack of a reaction, a soft sigh parted from her rosy lips, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

Reason fought with ire and, eventually, the former succeeded in its quiet assertion.

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, and the lady of Riverrun shut them tightly; it was Jacaerys’ voice that then rang in her ears.

‘You know what your only fault is?’ He let out a roaring laugh while engulfing her back with his stronger arms. She turned around to face him, abruptly so, and her hands came to rest over his broad and shaking chest. 'I remember a boy who once said I had no faults.' The lady laughed with him, whilst rubbing small circles in the cuff of his sparring vest.

He kissed the top of her head with a wistful smile, and glanced at her with a boyish glimmer in his hawk-like eyes. 'Please accept my humblest apologies, my darling love. I merely meant: do you know what the only thing that’s too good about you is?’

(Y/N) let out a soft giggle, mirroring Jace’s look of full, unadulterated love. She furrowed her brows comically, before tracing his jaw with her free hand. ‘Enlighten me, then, My Prince…’

Upon hearing his title cascade from her plump lips, the Prince of Dragonstone dived in to press his forehead onto hers. He took in a shaky breath, and gently cupped her cheek to kiss her. ‘You are far too loyal for your own good. You care too much for the people you let in. It makes you angry and brash - it makes you take too many risks.’

The threat of a sob was forming on her wobbly lip. (Y/N) bit it harshly, and sucked in another breath. Her tight hold replaced the tender meat of her inner palm, with the silky sheets of their shared bedding. A lone tear parted from her shut eye, rolling over her face, and staining her cotton nightdress.

‘It makes me quite jealous - your fearlessness and devotion.’ Jacaerys muttered against her ear, whilst pampering her with chaste, soft kisses. ‘When I make you my Queen, I might just make it so that you can only see and take care of me.’ He jested lightly, eliciting a chuckle from the laying girl.

Her hand reached for his soft, curly locks, and she twirled each strand against her slim fingers. ‘Should you make me your wife, Jace, I don’t think I’d ever part from you again.’

His eyes held a fire in them; the Velaryon prince reached for her tangled hand, and took it in his own, pressing it against his waiting mouth. ‘You will be my wife. My Princess.’ His voice was laced with naught but determination and love. ‘One day, we’ll both be crowned before the masses: and you will be the most beloved Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘When we marry, you will be mine, as I already am yours.’ He pledged with a final, delicate caress.

With each palpable reminder of him, her jaw clenched tighter and tighter. The suffering that erupted from deep within her chest both fueled and exhausted the lady and, soon enough, the girl found herself laying down again, wetting her pillow with endless rivers of tears.

The chastising fires of sleep licked at her conscious mind, and, although strained by her lover’s swift reminder, the woman fell into a deep sleep.

Oh, and how beautiful the dream was.

Although it wasn’t an exact replica of the way they first met, it more than made up for it with its stilling beauty.

***

He held his hand out to her, a polite smile plastered across his face. Her older brothers gave her a knowing look - there would be no higher honor for a Tully than to be singled out during the banquet of the Crown Prince's sixteenth name day.

Together, they danced not one, not two, not three… but seven dances during that blessed evening.

Her feet were aching and, with the redness of his cheeks and the lightness on his handsome face, the girl guessed she had at least had the same effect on the Prince, as he had on her.

They talked all throughout the night, sharing fond stares and quiet giggles that echoed and bounced off the hard stone walls.

“Why haven’t we met before, My Lady?” Jacaerys questioned with an upward quirk of his brow and a charming smile upon his lips.

“I’m afraid such questions will have to be taken up with my Grandfather, Your Grace.” As she mirrored his contagious grin, the young girl carried on, “I’ve… been at court while I was younger, and remained in the Red Keep for a couple of years, but the quiet of the Riverlands always suited me better.”

“We’re very similar, you and I, Lady Tully.” Jace let out in a long huff, straightening his back against the cold patio of the Royal Gardens. “I… I know that it is my duty, to confer with the other Lords and Ladies and make idle talk, but… I must admit that it can be quite…”

“Straining?” (Y/N) suggested with a quizzical quirk of her brow.

Jacaerys’ face broke into a beaming smile, and the Heir to the Iron Throne nodded affirmatively. “Exactly that, My Lady. I’m afraid, sometimes, that it shows on my face.” He joked half heartedly as he scrunched up his nose - though his posture remained upright and fair.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and the girl shook her head definitively. “I assure you, Your Grace, it couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“Jace.”

“... I beg your pardon?”

“Friends and family just call me Jace.”

A knowing look was shared between them, and (Y/N) allowed her eyes to trail downwards, resting on the velvet flowers that adorned the well-kept garden. Her cheeks felt as though they caught on fire, and the lady was sure that her face held a comical rouge to it, thanks to Jacaerys’ insistent staring.

She knew well what came after that - she remembered how she hurried to allow Jace the same courtesy, of calling her by her given name, and how they both laughed at the other’s awkwardness.

And yet…

The Velaryon’s laughter turned into a painful cry. As if possessed, he started shaking his head. Then his limbs. Then his body.

“But dead men do not need names, do they, (Y/N)?”

Her head shot up - blood began pumping in her ears, and her heartbeat hammered against her chest.

“W-What?”

“I am dead, I am dead, I am dead,” He wailed continuously, “Can’t you see it, my love? Can you not see?”

Strong arms came to hold her from behind - wrapped up in algae, with flesh half eaten by the haunting sea.

The air in her lungs filled with a putrid smell.

“Do you see me? Do you? Do you see me, (Y/N)? My face, my eyes, how do they look? Oh, (Y/N), I cannot see down here! It’s so dark!”

Wet and cold rivers of liquid ran down her spine, coming from his parted mouth - water or blood, she couldn’t distinguish. And she was far too scared to turn her head to look.

“I cannot breathe - help me! Why did you let me die?”

A violent shriek escaped her lips. The girl tried to spin and turn - escape his hold, and take him in her arms all the same.

Jacaerys was faster in his attempts; he took her face with his pruney fingers, and twisted her head around.

But instead of brown eyes, she was met with greying hues.

“Why did you let me die?” Cain’s voice echoed Jace’s sentence. “Why did you let me die, My Lady? How could you let me die?”

Blood was raining down on them: it filled her lungs, and painted her blue dress in a sickly purple. It stuck on her eyes and closed shut. It made her limbs impossible to move.

"No… no, no… this is not how it's supposed to go…!"

“(Y/N)! It's all your fault, all your fault…!”

***

A blood-curdling scream regurgitated from her dry throat.

Neither her drenched nightgown, nor the clogged air of the wide chambers managed to calm her down. While still in the limbo between dream and reality, (Y/N) brought a hand to her souring throat, and clawed at her collar for more stability.

Almost immediately after her first shaky sob, Aemond’s body bolted upright, and the One-Eyed Prince brushed off any remaining fragments of his torturous sleep.

With his right arm, he reached for her in an outstretched caress, eyes wide with wonder over her violent reaction - whilst his left instantly grabbed the dagger on the drawer closest to him.

One look about the room confirmed his pending suspicion: she had gone through a nightmare, and a very unpleasant one at that.

Not all our dreams get to turn into nightmares - The dead of night can provide solace for some, as well as great agony for others.

Scattered desires, idle wants, and needs: all met under the velvety silence and gratifying darkness that eats one whole, and mends his subconscious to the most profane of fantasies.

In his dream, Aemond was engaging in a much kinder resolve than the lady next to him.

***

The echo of swift, hurried footsteps allowed a comforting sigh to wash over his parted lips.

The tedious company of his brother and father was long forgotten, the moment her familiar silhouette caught his eye, urging him to turn his head around.

There she stood, ever the vile temptress, wearing an emerald green dress that draped lowly over her shoulders, trailing over her tender bosom, and barely covering the perky mounds of flesh.

She was smiling at him, despite being attached to Jace's arm, and a soft bite over her lower lip was all it took for the young Prince to feel that familiar tightness form in his leather braies.

He couldn't tell who strutted towards who, or how they got to that point. But a tentative hand rose to his face, taking off his eye patch.

A hitch of pleasure escaped from her crimson lips. She took both his hands in hers and, before the masses, placed them right above her clothed, throbbing clit.

"Please…" She pleaded with him, writhing into his reluctant touch, "Kostilus. Kostilus, Aemond."

His hesitation and lack of movement caused a loud whimper to contort from deep within her throat. She gave him a sly smirk, and brought her own hands under her skirts, to lift them and show him her glistening cunt. The evidence of his arousal was obvious, what with his cock brushing against her thigh as they kissed. He took her by the neck with one hand, while resting the other on her cheek.

He let out a low groan, and pushed her hand away to cup her dripping sex. His calloused thumb flicked over her reddened pearl, and a long, slim finger went inside her tight hole.

Aemond clenched his jaw - almost painfully so - and his hips rutted into the air so desperately, that the man was sure her wanton gasps held some amused glimmer in them.

His lilac orb watched her face contort in pleasure. They were all alone now, hidden in the shadows of the Great Hall, belonging to the Red Keep.

… And there he was, seated on the Iron Throne, moving his hips lazily as his intended was bouncing up and down his clothed shaft, rubbing their bodies together with a renowned fever.

His name fell from her lips in a sickeningly sweet way - Aemond could feel his hardness twitch into the hot material, and the Targaryen Prince bit back a guttural moan.

"Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, that's it. Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos." He hissed through gritted teeth.

She was finally his.

His to love, his to cherish, his to fuck and to make love to.

The thought of possessing her fully, unapologetically, wildly, sent a deep shiver down to his unyielding loins.

Aemond was close. Oh so close to reaching his high. But he wanted to make her feel good.

Wordlessly, the One-Eyed Prince stopped her desperate bucking with one hand over her hip and the other, holding down onto the nape of her neck.

The girl was sobbing and shaking. Her voice came out as a meek whisper, and her glassy eyes met with his dilated pupil.

"No, no… please… kostilus, Aemond, don't stop…" She writhed inside his arms, bringing her hand out to caress his scarred cheek.

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his bemused lips. Aemond hummed at her admission, and tenderly licked her lips.

"Shh," He soothed her gently, "Be still, byka hontes. Issa dōna, byka jorrāelagon."

While speaking, the Targaryen Prince pushed her dress to the side, sliding off her small clothes with an able hand and placing her flush onto the Iron Throne.

He bit the inside of her thigh, and rubbed small circles on the back of her hands.

Like the perfect lover, he entwined her palms with his, entangling their fingers together as he hushed her sweetly.

"Spread your legs for me, issa jorrāelagon. Let me see how wet you are."

The echo of a "Please" got caught in his throat. It was taking everything inside of him not to kneel before his lady and beg her to let him touch her.

Her wild blush and plush, swollen lips made Aemond let out a low curse. He gripped her fingers tighter, and took them in his mouth, to coat them with adorning kisses, one by one.

"You can do it for me, my sweet, pretty girl." He encouraged her through a shallow pant. "Don't you want me to make you feel good?"

A shy 'yes' bounced off the cold walls of the secluded Keep. Aemond hummed in approval, and lowered his head over her sensitive mound, sucking lightly.

With each new whimper, his strokes became more and more sporadic. The Prince aligned his nose over her throbbing clit, and eased his tongue into her sacred depths.

His eye shut tightly at the feeling of her sweet nectar - one of his hands came free from her tight grasp, and he parted her thighs even further apart.

"Good girl, good girl, good girl…" He chanted while latched onto her scorching heat, and, with one final push of his tongue inside her, he took the girl over the edge.

Her cries of bliss shook the very building to the core. Her wild pants brought Aemond close to orgasm, and the male had to bring down a hand to his aching bulge, and clench it tightly, in order to stop himself from spilling in his pants.

It wouldn't take long for his love to wiggle her hips again.

His mouth and chin gleamed with the evidence of her spilled arousal. Aemond let out a rumbled laugh and licked himself clean with the help of two nimble fingers.

"I won't waste a single drop. Not one, single drop of you."

His words made her eyes roll back, and her throat inch with a loud moan. His Lady kneeled before him, and rubbed her cheek over his clothed cock, kissing at its outlines faintly.

Insatiable little mynx.

His eye fluttered shut, groaning in agony at her sensual touch. Aemond swallowed thickly, and he let out a hurting whimper, as the kneeling woman dipped her hand in the tightness of his pants.

Slowly, teasingly, she tested the waters.

The woman brought her hand up to her lover, and parted his swollen lips with the slow stroke of her thumb. Silently, she urged him to coat her skin with the wet of his saliva. Aemond smirked, and licked one long stripe over her spreading palm.

Humming in approval, and never once breaking eye contact, she eased her way down his leather trousers, and freed his cock from the tightness of its cage.

Several beads of sweat streamed down his pleasured face. Droplets of precum rolled down his reddened tip, and Aemond hissed at the contact they made with the base of his shaft.

His lady looked at him with soft, doe-like eyes;

"Syz taoba." She praised him with a mischievous smile. Before he could register the whole of her movements, the woman's tongue darted out, and she licked a slow strip over his twitching manhood.

She laughed at his dazed expression, and began touching him with her silky palm.

"Yes…" He moaned into her hold, bucking his hips to meet her hand halfway. "Tighter. Grip it tighter…" He instructed her through labored breaths, and a harsh groan etched its way from his bitten lips. "Ah, ābrazyrys!"

With each palpable thrust, Aemond moaned louder and louder, until the licks of relief washed over him in a sudden wave of pleasure.

At once, his hips stilled their violent bucking, and he felt the first streaks of cum shoot over his heaving abdomen.

Aemond gasped at her unwavering touch, and a single tear of pure delight rolled down his pale cheek.

She smiled at him. A pure, innocent smile, as if what she'd just done did naught to shake her untouched innocence.

(Y/N) moaned at the sight of him, so ravished and spent by her hand - she licked her lips tentatively, and trailed her fingers over his lower stomach, coating each digit with his warm release.

The cum pooled on the base of her tongue, and she showed him the fullness in her mouth, before swallowing him whole.

Thinking him fully drained, the girl made haste to get up on her feet and press her forehead against his. She giggled excitedly, and kissed over his jaw and neck.

A primal glint swirled deep within him, and Aemond's eye darkened.

He wasn't done with her just yet.

His arms flipped her over, and the pair found themselves in the peace and quiet of his old Quarters. Her body was pushed against the silk bedding, laid in below Aemond's insistent licks and kisses.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, until the only thing you can think of is me."

His voice was shaking with lust and need, and the curve of her waist and breasts did nothing to help his aggravated heart.

His love let out a stimulated groan. Her lips churned into a small pout, and she brought his hand out to her scorching heat, pressing down on it insistently.

His mouth lulled open - he could feel the heat emanating from her maidenhood, and the very scent that made his head swirl with need.

He gritted his teeth and lowered his body to press against hers. He could feel himself grow harder and harder by the second, twitching against her exposed thigh.

The girl let out a burst of snorting laughter, and her legs came to grip him over the bulk of his waist.

Effortlessly, she pushed him into the wide goose pillows, towering over him as she snapped her hips into his.

"I always wanted to mount a dragon. Tonight, I'm going to ride you as you ride Vhagar."

***

The intensity of her scream made the man bolt up in an instant. His thoughts surged with a singular instinct: to protect her.

A hand reached for his dagger. The other, for her shaking form.

"What happened?" His throaty groan echoed through the silent room.

At the sound of his smothering voice, the girl let out a startled scream. She would have fallen from the unmade bed, were it not for Aemond's hands, which caught her beforehand. … His face contorted in pain at her recoiling, at her lack of trust in him. His very presence was unnerving her.

Her numerous shrieks alerted the new guards, who, warned in advance of their master's disposition to anger, hastily opened the door to his chambers - swords unsheathed and shoulders tense.

But, upon glancing at the erratic woman, and the way her hands were pushing Aemond's chest away from her flush form, they assumed this was just another way of coupling, and the oldest of the two bowed his head in embarrassment, before grabbing his brethren by the cape and exiting the room.

Fucking assholes…! The Lady thought to herself. Upkeeping the realm and instigating order only when they see fit.

The pang of embarrassment took a hold of her jaded face. It didn't matter what they thought. But all the same, Cain's words echoed into her ears, slithering into her heart.

' - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories about how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night.'

Disgust painted its way over her distressed expression. A deep frown creased her forehead, and she clicked her tongue in irritation at Aemond's attempt to soothe her.

"N-Nothing happened." She strained herself to answer. "It doesn't matter. Now let me go."

But his hold didn't falter. His iron grip reigned over her, and (Y/N) could feel how her wrist started to ache from numbness.

Her eyes shot up in pure horror.

"Please, Prince Aemond." She tried once more, though this time sweeter. Her eyes trailed from his face to his clenched fists, and she tried to relax in his hold - at least slightly. Dread settled into the pits of her stomach, as she awaited his answer.

The One-Eyed Prince felt his heart hammer against his chest. A stinging pain ruled over any other voice of reason, and he felt lethal, succumbed to the endless lust and frenzy that he felt for the shaking girl.

And, although he didn’t let go of her bruising arm, he sat down the dagger in his left hand, in favor of touching her lax cheek with his rough fingertips.

Gods, he was still so painfully hard.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, as his grip over her body relaxed with each passing minute. The taste of abhorance was getting harder and harder to ignore - as did his raging hard-on, so adamantly pressed against her covered leg.

The woman darted her tongue out to wet her chapped lips; an action that wasn’t easily ignored by Aemond. His brows furrowed in lust and anger, and the coil in his lower stomach grew tighter by the second.

His hand ghosted over her twisted features, and he held his hand against her, with a fear akin to getting burnt. She scrunched her nose up as he scooted closer: her eye trailed downwards to his huge erection. Fear mixed with the knowledge of her situation, and her free hand came to grip the edge of the mirkwood bed.

“Hey,” She began to say, but took a pause to clench and unclench her jaw. “I think we should go back to sleep.”

Her eyes closed, if only for a second. Aemond’s deep breaths echoed through the quiet room, over her face, and the girl chastised herself for being so idiotic.

Some reply she gave him.

… But there is still a way to get a hold of that damned dagger.

Thoughts laced with uncertainty whirled inside her head. This wasn’t the first time Aemond had stared with hunger at her, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was simply the way their 'relationship' worked. Simply the way he did.

Before she could muster up to add anything else, the Kinslayer broke the silence. His voice was soft and hitched; His broad arms snaked around her again, and his single eye loomed over her, adorning an emotion that menged perfectly with caution and lust.

“Why do you have this effect on me?” He questioned no one but himself. “You have ruined me.” He uttered, as if her presence and innocence were the strongest of poisons.

“Nyke istan nykeā vala hen gaomilaksir se rigo gō nyke mazilībagon laesi va ao. Se ao… ao… ao mazverdagon issa aylik hae lo nyke daor…”

The last of his words came out strained and angry, the desire to possess her coming out in the roughness of his sentence in High Valyrian.

(Y/N) squinted at him, unsure of what to do and say, except to stay awfully quiet. His cock twitched in his pants at her confused expression, and the woman sat her eyes on the dagger before her.

May his Gods so help him if he tries to do anything to me, she dryly thought to herself.

“I never tried to hurt you in any way.” She spoke decidedly, trying her best to keep a level of strength in her hoarse voice. Her body tensed under his aggravating touch, and the Lady quietly cursed herself for her inability to move further away from him.

Aemond’s face broke into a tight smile, and the Targaryen Prince huffed out in a low breath.

“Quit playing your game with me. You know exactly what you did. Women like you have quite the breeding for it.”

At that moment, anger blinded her. Swift as an arrow, she rose her head up high, and attempted to slap him - hard. But the older man caught her hand within his skilled fingers, and lowered it to his aching heart, keeping it there.

“Ao taenor issa. Aōha elēni, aōha laesi, aōha relgos, aōha maelki - aōha olvie perhas iksos surokvis issa. Issi ao biare? Hmm? Issi ao biare rūsīr skoros ao gōntan naejot issa?”

He could see the tears in her eyes. He could feel the flesh of her skin burn with the roughness of his touch. He could feel her anger and building disdain, and all of it pushed him over the edge all the same.

Aemond grabbed her face with his free hand, and clasped her jaw tightly. He breathed in her warmth, and he cursed himself for it - for the weakness that she caused him, for how easy it was for her to calm him down. “Ao issi nykeā quptenka ābra qilōni insalvak nykeā dārys hen ānogar.” He hissed desperately, lowering himself closer and closer to her face. “I treat you with kindness, and this is how you think to repay me? Vile, spoiled cunt. Gevie līve, ny dōna byka rene.”

To his mind, he was but an animal, caught helplessly in a siren’s grasp - she had lured him in with her beauty, her heart, and he was drowning in her, in her essence, in her being.

All of the things he felt towards her welled up inside of him: the love, the longing, the obsession, the lust, the need, the want. It was all too much.

He breathed heavily into her ear, while stroking at her bottom lip, “Gaomagon ao ūndegon sepār skorkydoso kraj ao issi, issa jorrāelagon? Aemond Mēre-Laes, se kipagīros hen Vhagar sen se Dārys mīsio hen Westeros… aōhon. Isse prūmia, haevisis, se maelki."

His raining assault in High Valyrian aggravated her to no end. Although Jacaerys' knowledge on the language wasn't perfect, either, he had taught the girl enough to get by.

And enough it was, at the very least, to make out the hissed out "beautiful"s, "love"s, and "heart"s that Aemond spewed at her.

The Tully girl spat in his face, biting on the index finger, that was trying to pry open her mouth. “You promised me,” She asserted as she pried herself free of his sickly embrace, “You promised me you wouldn’t touch me until I expressively asked you to.”

Her (y/e/c) eyes clashed with his lone, lilac orb. The woman swallowed thickly, and a droplet of sweat fell over her pounding temple. “So back. Off.”

Half a second goes by - half a heartbeat and half a breath -, until Aemond finally lets go of her, and settles back down onto the cold side of his bed.

For a while, (Y/N) is stuck. She sees how the man she loathes turns his back around, how his shoulders fall back as he’s trying to relax. She focuses on his breathing, and how his erratic breaths quiet down.

“Go to sleep.” He commands her bitterly, “Before I give you a reason to be tired out.”

The ferocity of a thousand curses almost falls from her tightened lips. The woman takes in a deep breath, and lowers herself back onto the drenched sheets.

He had donned the dagger to his fucking waist.

For almost two weeks, Cain had been falling in and out of consciousness.

His clash with Aemond left him weak and crippled - most of all, it left him ashamed.

Ashamed of his lack of diligence. Ashamed for having been unable to protect his Lady.

Finally, ashamed of his weakness and lack of thought, of reason.

If he were awake right now, he'd curse the Old Gods and the New for making him so - for giving him the wound that would incapacitate him forever. He'd have to fight the shivers that came with the rotting of his flesh, he'd have to clench his remaining fist in agony at the notion of the pools of blood he lost: the notion of his wound still going through the process healing, and all that came with it.

His once handsome face was still stained with his blood - dirt and sweat clung to it, like flies on dead meat.

His golden locks looked almost black, covered by the mold and mud that he'd crawled through once he reached outside the cave.

***

"You need to be swifter on your foot, lass!" Ser Allyn Swann instructed him, hitting the boy over the legs once, in taciturn aggression. "You're to be our Lady's sworn protector, are you not? You'll need to do better than that."

"I already am her sworn protector!" Cain yelled after the knight, rubbing a hand over his sweaty forehead. He took in a sharp breath, exhaustion seeping in his bones. Without waiting for an answer, he retook his wide stance and bowed down to his professor. "Again." He urged Ser Swann with a determined look.

The rains of spring had softened the ground, and both the knight and aspiring shield had to be mindful of their footsteps, so as to not land on their tired backs.

Allyn smiled, and shook his head. "Are you now, boy?" He obliged with a reply, "I think you're a seventeen-year-old blighter, who's bitten off more than he can chew."

His able taunting seemed to have worked.

No longer was Cain swinging his sword in circles, measuring his adversary with an aware look. Exactly like a dire wolf would after getting a whiff of fresh prey, the Waters bastard jumped into the leveling field, slashing his wooden blade directly at his opponent's head.

Allyn hummed in disapproval, and back-tracked to the right, faking a swing to his left side, before wiping Cain's feet off the ground with a wonky, but effective swipe.

"Again, Waters?" The knight asked with a click of his tongue. "This is the fifth time you fell for this exact same move. You may be as simple-minded as the Gods allow - but even a fool would learn from his mistakes once he swallowed mud once or twice."

As the boy lowered his gaze in undoubted guilt, his teacher offered him his hand, hoisting him off the field with a low grunt.

"Your mind is elsewhere, Cain. What is it that's bothering you?"

Eyes of the colour of steel clashed with Allyn's brilliant blues. A hoarse sigh left his parted lips, and Cain looked to the sky above them.

"I… I'm not ready." He admitted through gritted teeth. "Lady (Y/N) believes in me, but I'm not ready."

His simple sentence, his raw honesty, moved the greying knight.

He smiled tightly at the boy, resting a hand atop his heaving shoulder, and squeezed strongly.

"You are ready. You haven't the slightest idea of what you can do, should the situation call for it."

"Aye, I can fall straight on my ass. Maybe that'll distract my real opponents!"

"Cain." His professor interrupted him, "Long has it been since I last faced that eight-year-old boy who wanted nothing more than to prove himself."

Ser Swann's words brought a twisted smile to his lips, and (Y/N)'s protector mirrored his tired expression, as he huffed out a breath in disdain.

"I'm afraid I'll fail her." He muttered under his breath, looking in the general direction of his Lady's Quarters. "She believes in me, yes. But what if she's wrong?" A deep frown splits his forehead in three, wide creases. "Sometimes it feels like she must be."

"Only a real knight would ever admit to his weaknesses and less than stellar moments." Allyn encouraged him shortly. His eyes never once left Cain's, and the old Lord nodded his head briskly. "Lady Tully is not the only one who believes in you. Before her, Lord Hunter Redwyne believed in you."

A small chuckle broke Cain's reserved silence.

"If I remember correctly, he made you his steward exactly because he believed in you. After him, of course, went his sons and daughters. When the siege over Arbourtown took place, who was it that fought 100 men all by himself?"

"Hardly 100. It was 66 at best."

"Honesty. Another rare quality to find in a knight."

Cain's frustration welled in his eyes. "It's not honesty - it's a well-known truth!"

"Let me tell you something, Cain. It could have been a hundred men. Or it could have been thirty, or it could have been just one. The unrivaled truth remains: when everyone abandoned their post, you were the only one left standing in the West Wing of that castle."

A hefty silence settled off between the two.

"Plenty of people believed in you: plenty still do. And all of them were right to do so."

Cain's aching fists turned lax once Ser Allyn put an end to his trail of thought. "I…" He bit his cheek in an attempt to talk.

'Thank you.'

"I still have a lot to learn."

"That you do, boy. That you do." Allyn confirmed with a convinced jerk of his head. His eyes glimmered with pride, however, and, as he picked his sword back up, the man smiled at his driven apprentice.

"But I believe in you, and in the fact that you will make her proud."

"... It's nice to talk again like this."

Allyn's expression saddened for a moment, before it regained its familiar vigor.

"As I told you, lass. No matter how far you are, I'll always be somewhere with you. I'll be right here, at the tip of your sword, in your armor."

Ser Cain felt a tear run down his cheek, and the knight rose a hand to wipe it away from his face.

"I don't think I'll ever hold a sword again." He hummed painfully, but the older knight only shook his head.

"You haven't the slightest idea of what you can do, should the situation call for it." He repeated his words again. "Trust me, son. You will hold Faithkeeper again. … But now it's time for you to wake up."

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

***

"-- Are you waking up?!" The worried voice of a woman rang through the open field.

Cain felt his head jolting with pain - his limbs of a calming numbness, and his lips dried up.

He swallowed thickly, before opening his mouth to say, "Water… I need… water."

"Right on it, soldier." She amusedly said, bringing down her own flask to his waiting mouth.

He drank to his heart’s content, and only when the last droplets of the blessed liquid touched his throat, did Cain Waters stop to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing he said, as the unknown woman checked her poach for any remains of the water. “I didn’t think about the practicality of leaving some for later. … Or about you needing a sip.”

The last of his words greatly perplexed the brown-haired woman - she let out a mirthled laugh, and gently shook her head to the side. “At ease, Commander. We have more where that came from. Drink as much as you need to.”

Her amber eyes trailed over his bandaged hand, and, as he followed her stare with his own, Cain sighed in wallowing dread. His gaze turned curious, however, as he glanced at his shoulder, and wasn’t immediately greeted with the ghastly sight of a chopped-off arm.

A shocked look adorned his features, and the knight brought his left hand to feel the borders of his forming scar.

A painful sting stopped him in his tracks.

“I’d be careful with touching that arm so soon,” She tutted over his brash enthusiasm, “Your stitches are far from being healed. … And it’s not all that good and grand.”

Her sharp eyes softened slightly, and she let out a hardened breath.

“I’m very sorry. But we still had to cut off some of the infected fingers. With time, though, I’m sure you’ll hold your sword again.”

‘You will hold Faithkeeper again.’

Cain hummed in a lowly tone, as his eyes traveled back to the strange woman before him. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, until he finally settled on the least invasive sentence.

“I’m very grateful for your help,” He began carefully, while nibbling at his lower lip. “But who are you? And why would you save me?”

The girl’s eyebrows raised in beguilement, and she jokingly brought her hand to her chest, bowing deeply.

“My name is Mira Florent, of Brightwater Keep. I was a ward not long ago, under the esteemed tutelage of Lady Caswell. For eleven years, I served in Bitterbridge.” Taking in his every reaction with a curious look, Mira quirked her head to the side, and offered the knight a half-earnest smile. “And who might you be?”

“You didn’t answer my other question.” Cain tensed visibly, and the woman raised her hands out in false surrender.

“Indeed, I have not. I’d like to know who it is I’m talking to, as well, before I should waste all my breath away.”

The knight’s deep gaze settled on her downturned nose and inviting smile. He took in a deep breath, and propped his body on his healthy elbow. “I asked my questions first, my Lady.”

“And I demanded for answers, second.” Her voice rang out with a beaming laugh, and the older woman showed him her portrait-perfect grin. “No one here is in any position to make demands. … But please. I am not a Lady. There’s no need for you to address me as such”

Her easy-going attitude and fun behavior were almost enough reason for Cain to return her gracious smiles - still, the royal knight remained impassive, while nodding his head in quiet agreement.

“My name is Cain Waters, m’lady.” A short pause ensued, during which both healer and patient exchanged a diverted look, “Until recently, I served in Riverrun; I answer to the Tullies, the lords of the Riverlands.”

“I knew it!” Mira’s gleeful exclamation set Ser Cain back on his back. “It was fairly obvious by the crest in your armor. The trout lost its head, but the house colors are still as clear as day.”

“Is that why you decided to save me?” The man asked her tentatively.

“Well, that’s why we kept carrying you with us after patching you up, I suppose. But we would have tried to heal you either way.”

“We?” The Waters bastard questioned once again. “There’s more than just you around?”

“You don’t think I carried you all the way here by myself, right?” Her sarcastic question jabbed at his intellect, but her placid smile told the knight to relax, and put an end to his sporadic trail of thought. “It’s just me and my travel partner - he’s the one that wanted us to leave you at a crossroads end, by the way.”

A bemused smirk tugged at the corners of Cain’s chapped lips. “Then you have my full gratitude, m’lady - I have to say, I appreciate you not letting me die. Pray tell, does your companion have a name?”

An arch of her bushy eyebrows was the only telltale sign of Mira’s pending curiosity over Cain's meddlesome nature. She jerked her head to point at a silhouette near the fireplace, and she leaned over on a tree’s bark end.

“He does.” The woman said simply, and her expression turned somber for just a moment. “You take your profiling seriously, Cain Waters - his name is Albar. Albar of nothing, who serves under no one. Albar Stone.”

Cain’s face brightened slowly, as if he’d just been reminded of an old joke.

‘Us bastards always find a way to help one another.’

A rumbling laughter shook him in his laying spot, and the man gingerly shook his head after a passing while. “Another brother. I’ve a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”

Mira’s only reply was to shrug her shoulders, keeping quiet for the first time since they’d met. Her auburn eyes went over Cain’s shoulder, and she took in a deep breath. “You fought the Kinslayer, haven’t you?” She asked whilst playing with a silver pendant.

“You’re wearing the Tully crest - a house that openly pledged for the Blacks. Despite your heavy armor, your wound was of a clean cut. Too clean for a normal blade.” The Florent Lady awaited no confirmation from the laying man, as she went on, “I’ve been well acquainted with the deadly swords forged from Valyrian Steel. And there are only two people who wield such feats of war. Of course, only one of them who terrorizes our home.”

“Aye, that is true.” Cain let out after a low curse. “I regret not being swifter on my foot that day. It would’ve saved us a lot of trouble to slay him then and there.”

“Opportunities arise. And I’ve a feeling there will be another time for you to face him again.”

Cain’s forehead puckered at the last of her words, and his able hand pointed at the empty flask that now rested on her lower hip. “Oh, I would drink to that.” He bitterly laughed in earnest.

Mira’s posture ambled away, and she edged closer to the man’s plodded body. Silently, she got a hold of the bridles of the nearest horse, and offered Cain a lackluster smile. “I’ll hoist you up this saddle and we’ll keep walking towards the Vale.”

The muscles in Cain’s face tightened. His immediate thought went to (Y/N), his Lady, no doubt still stuck with Aemond in Harrenhal - that Gods' forsaken place.

His fist brandished in a tight hold, his head aligned to Mira’s working hands, and the knight tried to stop her musings with a firm palm over her waist.

“Wait -” He tried to reason, “I cannot go there. My Lady is still waiting for me, I cannot just abandon her.”

"Abandon your Lady?" Mira's eyes widened once more. She jumped up from the ground, and straightened her back in disbelief. "You're Lady Tully's personal knight? Is that why you fought the Kinslayer? You're telling me she's still alive?!"

Through an exhale, the male nodded. He cleared his throat with a loud cough, and scrunched his nose up in frustration.

"Indeed, m'lady. So you must understand me - I cannot forsake her. Not when she's still in the jaws of that one-eyed fucker."

Mira wiped the dust off her cotton pants, and grunted in agreement. She let out a tired breath, and clicked her tongue at his persistence.

"Well… you could have returned to Harrenhall, limping on your feet and all, if only you awoken a week ago. But we're less than an hour away from the Eyrie, Ser Cain." His crushed expression and gritted teeth softened the lady's resolve. "I warmly recommend you stick with us. Our road leads to the Arryns: we can drop you off to your Lord and you can take a while to recover."

"You slept for a very long time, Ser Cain. Everything you knew has changed in these last couple of weeks. Getting acquainted to your new situation will do you well."

Alys never dreamt. At least, she never once recalled what her dreams were about.

Such was the way of things for her, and she didn’t mind it - that was, until tonight.

Stilling images of her in his arms, of his soft lips upon the Tully's face made her shake with anger and betrayal well into the first callings of dawn.

Morning came and went, and the afternoon spent itself with her clasping her hands together, in the comfort of her room, thinking on what to do.

Her rattling worry wasn’t as much about her love for him, as it was for the frightening thought that if the Crown Prince didn’t want her anymore, she'd find her death by the sharp end of his sword.

The Rivers witch gulped thickly, and brought her hands over her neck and bump.

Aemond was capable of many things. But he wouldn't risk killing his child. Right?

The Tully girl had to go. The conclusion was a natural reach, and an expected one, at that: it was the only solution to her ticking problem.

A slight arch of her brow sent her thoughts adrift. How would she take care of it all? She gave the haughty Lady the chance to escape, and she failed - miserably. Now, she had no more allies left in Harrenhal, and no access to any amount of privacy.

The memory of Aemond's rage sent a cold shiver down her spine. Not once during her long life, did she witness a sight more fearful to behold, than the one of the One-Eyed Prince when angered. Hundreds died the day of her escape, and thousands more would keep on suffering, if ever she should break free again.

The Tully girl had to go. And then Aemond would be hers again.

Her prayers were answered when, sometime along the laid-in dusk, his footsteps echoed through the long hallway of her keep.

She waited for him in her small framed bed, eagerly aligning her hips to the side, to strike a more seductive pose.

… But when Aemond reached her doorstep, his eye carried a solemn, and resigned expression.

"The maids tell me she won't eat." He told her worriedly, opting for that instead of his usual greeting. He reached her bedside with two wide steps, and wordlessly took a seat while rubbing his temples. "She's punishing me."

Alys staggered a frustrated breath, and tried to calm herself back down. Her left leg moved to tease Aemond's crotch, and she chuckled appealingly.

"Must we worry about her all the time…? She'll eat when she gets really hungry." Alys dismissed his inquiry with a small caress, "In the meantime, I'm sure I could take your mind off things…"

Within a second, Aemond's hand was wrapped softly on her neck. "Stop that." He chastised her cruelly, "I'm not in the mood."

"You never are, as of late." She muttered dryly, but regretted her words instantly, when she felt his long fingers squeeze over her larynx tentatively. "I-I only meant to say that I missed you." She quickly intervened, while entangling her hand with his in a forlorn attempt to redeem herself.

Aemond hummed tiredly, and, as if he finally registered what he was doing, the man let go of her dainty neck.

Quietness washed over them, and Alys' eyes welled with the threat of tears, until Aemond spoke up.

"I want you to keep an eye on her. Become her friend, if you must."

The detachment with which he spoke wounded Alys' pride, but, as she massaged her neck, the woman only sighed. "Befriend her, Aemond?"

"Do whatever you think is right." He uttered once again. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be her maid - you'll make sure she eats when I'm not here; you'll make sure she doesn't think of a way to escape."

Her ears reddened from the deep wound laid upon her enlarged ego. Alys huffed in disbelief, and promptly shook her head. "What…?" She asked her lover. "So you want me to feed her and empty her chamber pot?"

"Don't act as if this work would be beneath you, love." Aemond tutted as he raised up from his taken seat. "I've already made up my mind: you will take care of her while I'm not around. And you will make her like it here."

The urgency in his words muffled out any other attempted protest. Alys' fists were clenched at her sides, and the older woman was biting down on her lower lip. "As you wish, Your Grace." She hissed past her tightened lips, while looking at him desperately.

As she noticed him turn around to leave, the Rivers witch shot up straight. "You won't stay?" She asked Aemond in a strangled tone.

"I have some business to attend to."

Aemond prayed before his dinners. As if that would make them any better.

As if that would help him swallow his guilt, or scatter it over the ghosts that he himself created.

As if that would deter the Gods to forgive him for his sins.

The pair stood quietly at the polished oak table, surrounded by naught but fermented wine and copious amounts of meat. For a while, all seemed well.

The cutlery broke a sound every once in a while, and Aemond's deep breaths turned the room's atmosphere heavy.

Eventually, it all built up to be too much.

"Is the food not to your liking?" His velvety smooth voice asked the girl before his eye.

With her hands still in her lap, now gripping her fingers painfully, Lady Tully replied, "... It's nothing of the sort. I'm just not hungry right now."

Aemond stared blankly into her eyes, until his scorching orb settled on her lips instead. Lustful thoughts of what he dreamt the night before plagued his mind, but the Prince merely shook his head, whilst taking a sip of the wine.

"You haven't eaten anything today." He muttered through a raised eyebrow, and a ghost of a forced smile. "Surely you must be famished."

The muscles on (Y/N)'s face twitched in annoyance. She jerked her foot from under the table, and turned her eyes back to her untouched plate.

"... As I said, I'm not feeling very hungry." She leaned further away, and the firelight of the wide, lit room, danced across her face with glorious shades of red and amber.

"Very well." Aemond asserted quietly, after letting out a hoarse curse in High Valyrian. Soon, the Prince turned his attention back to the illuminated room, without sparing the girl another glance.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and coughed in the back of his hand a couple of times.

Each time she heard his attempts to clear his throat, the girl clenched her jaw tighter and tighter.

Neither spoke anymore, until Aemond sighed deeply.

"Does…" He began, but closed his mouth once again. His face turned into a sour scowl, his pale cheeks reddened, and the man forced himself to keep going, despite the hardness with which such a question came to him. "Does your wrist hurt you at all?"

A quick reminder to the other night.

The lady's eyes snapped forward, unsure of whether or not she'd heard him correctly. Were she not in this unpleasant situation herself, the woman would have laughed at the Prince's awkwardness; no less his stupid question.

Instead of laughing, she took in a shaky breath, which she exhaled almost immediately, before replying curtly. "It doesn't hurt." Her eyes closed and her brows furrowed in concentration.

Distaste for him, for what she was about to say, filled her weary heart and mouth.

"... Thank you for the inquiry, My Prince, that was very kind of you."

She wanted to scream and shout the moment his daft fingers gripped her own, and the Kinslayer tried to caress her, despite his hand's deep callouses. Still, she remained poised.

She was all alone now, and she had to play it smart.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in her throat, and her shoulders tensed visibly from under her green dress. Slowly, yet surely, she wiggled her hand free from under his palm, and placed it above her thigh once more.

If her movement displeased Aemond, then the Prince didn’t show it. His hand twitched atop the table, and he clenched it momentarily. But just as soon as his action was executed, it was covered by the Targaryen's mellow voice.

"Try to eat something tonight. And whatever it is that you'd like on the morrow, you can tell your maid to bring you."

Maid…?

Confusion made its way across her face. And, not even waiting for her to ask that eager question, Aemond dipped his head lowly and replied.

"The days are hard and long - prisoner or not, My Lady. While in Harrenhal, you are still a royal, and will be treated as such."

(Y/N) felt as if she could do nothing else but laugh. She envisioned her life in Harrenhal drift in a lot of different ways - though no thought of hers deterred her to believe she'd be taken care of by Aemond's older lover.

Of course, she jested lightly to herself. In the end, I am but a prisoner. And Aemond only has one eye.

Her hands were tied. And so were Alys Rivers', who looked none the happier to be rooted at her bedside table, judging by her tight expression.

"We don't have to play his game, you know." The girl hushed in her direction, as she kneeled down to help her change the ruined bed sheets.

Green eyes washed over her smaller form, holding an icy glimmer in them. But, despite her obvious discontent at her words, Alys remained quiet.

"You've known Aemond for longer than I," She kept going in the afternoon. "But we can both agree he has a dangerous character." Her lack of cooperation irked the lady to no end.

She dreaded the silence she was greeted with.

Hopelessly, she watched Alys wipe the last corner of the room - the girl observed how she turned on her heel, bowing at her without sparing her a second glance, and made her way toward the doors of her chambers.

"What do you think will happen once I tell Aemond that you helped Cain plan my escape?" She asked in a neutral tone.

For the first time that day, the Rivers bastard whipped her head around, and kneeled to the floor to gather up the dropped cloth. Despite her neutral smile, her voice was shaking. "You're trying to blackmail me?"

"I'm trying to help myself. ... And help you."

The woman let out a roaring laugh. "I am carrying the child of the dragon, girl. He wouldn't dare hurt me."

"Are you that sure?" The hardened look on (Y/N)'s face let no emotion stand out. Still, her eyes remained honest, truthful in her questions, and the wood witch let out an ample sigh.

"I know you don't want me here." The Lady raised her head in bold admission, "Believe me, I am the last person to be happy with this arrangement. This is your home. This is supposed to be your room and your rightful bed. On that, you'll hear no argument from me."

As her speech came to an abrupt end, Alys furrowed her brows in unexpected shock. She was quick to collect herself, and shield her shaking body by crossing her arms.

"We're more similar than we'd allow ourselves to think, Alys. We both want me gone and far, far away from here."

With a tentative look in her eyes, the Lady of Riverrun approached Alys' heaving body. She took her hands in hers and squeezed them reassuringly.

A strained chuckle parted from the elder's lips. She jerked her hands away and shot her an unfeeling look. "What would you have me do?" She interfered with a cutting voice. "You forget yourself - and I. I'm just a woman in this Keep, the same as you. If you think I hold any power over anyone here, you'd be sorely mistaken."

(Y/N) shook her head, and allowed a crooked smile to grace her tired features. She quirked her eyebrow at the woman's words, and only hummed disprovingly.

"I may not know you, Alys Rivers. But I know you are a smart and conniving woman. You lived all your life in Harrenhal, or so I heard."

Her harsh tone cut through the deadly silence of the room.

"I'm sure you kept at least a secret passage to yourself, and away from Aemond. It's not like us to keep all our eggs in the same basket... So, I want you to teach me all you know about this castle.”

A jocund expression seeped into Alys' pores. She clicked her tongue at (Y/N)'s words, and huffed out a wired breath. “Foolish girl. If anything should go wrong, Aemond will kill us both.”

A small pause, followed by a muttered curse ensued after Alys’ warning. Once her eyes locked on the Lady again, she frowned as she nodded her head.

"You have yourself a deal."

Taglist:

@bellameshipper @ohitsthemaster @kravitzwhore @virginslut08 @hiatuswhore @somemydayy

Translations:

"Bona iksos issa sȳz riñītsos" = That's my good little girl;

"Byka hontes" = Little dove;

"Issa jorrāelagon" = My love;

“Issa dōna, byka jorrāelagon” = My sweet, little love;

"Ābrazyrys" = Wife;

“Nyke istan nykeā vala hen gaomilaksir se rigo gō nyke mazilībagon laesi va ao. Se ao… ao… ao mazverdagon issa aylik hae lo nyke daor…” = I was a man of duty and honor before I set eyes on you. And you… You… You make me feel as if I am no longer…;

“Ao issi nykeā quptenka ābra qilōni insalvak nykeā dārys hen ānogar.” = You are a common woman who enslaved a prince of the blood;

“Ao taenor issa. Aōha elēni, aōha laesi, aōha relgos, aōha maelki - aōha olvie perhas iksos surokvis issa. Issi ao biare? Issi ao biare rūsīr skoros ao gōntan naejot issa?” = You tempted me. Your voice, your eyes, your lips, your soul - your very presence is seducing me. Are you happy? Are you happy with what you did to me?

"Gaomagon ao ūndegon sepār skorkydoso kraj ao issi, issa jorrāelagon? Aemond Mēre-Laes, se kipagīros hen Vhagar sen se Dārys mīsio hen Westeros… aōhon. Isse prūmia, haevisis, se maelki." = Do you see just how powerful you are, my love? Aemond One-Eye, the Rider of Vhagar and the Prince Protector of the Realm… yours. In heart, body, and soul.

"Gevie līve, ny dōna byka rene" = Beautiful witchling, my sweet little slut;

[simpingland]

Hiii I love your writing and I would love to request a Jace fic!! Tbh I don’t really have anything super specific in mind (I’ll literally take anything at this point, the jacaerys tags are so dead). Maybe something with a shy!jacaerys? Idk honestly whatever you want!!!!

Giants and other tiny things.// Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader.

When an invitation arrives from Casterly Rock, Jace will need the help of Daemon's ward. The lady, much more sociable and simple, will accept, despite (or precisely because) she is in love with him.

A/N: thank you for reaching me!!!! I loved to write this, specially making Jace shy, cuz it makes a lot of sense to me that he can be a bit of a cinnamon roll whenever he's far from his duties. Hope you like it❤️

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Jacaerys Velaryon went down in history as a prince of great skill and talent for alliances. A dark-haired Targaryen who made his mother proud. Even in his own time, the lords of Westeros heard these rumours of his honour and talent. And it was true that he had a hand at diplomacy, but he was not so brave with people his own age. And when Prince Daemon took a ward to Dragonstone, the young lady was surprised to see a Jace with a facility for blushing, but difficulty crossing glances or even speaking without stuttering And the young lady never missed an opportunity to tease him.

In the lessons you shared together, you didn't hesitate to ask him the same question over and over again, as if you didn't quite understand what the patient Prince was explaining. The smile you and Luke exchanged when he practised his Valyrian made him even more awkward. He would sometimes 'slap' you with a piece of paper, making you laugh and ultimately dismissed from the class. And later in the day, Jace would quietly pass you his notes, feeling guilty. You liked to sit too close to him, putting your arm over his books to watch him move slyly, trying not to get a reprimand from the Septa for making too much physical contact. And when no one was looking, you would write absurd phrases and drawings in his notes and watch him shake his head, hiding a shy smile. Rarely, too afraid to be seen, Jace would write back, but not on your notes, but on your hand. Words like "tosser," "arse," and always, always, he would leave a heart so badly done that the insult was ridiculous and childish. Your soul fell a little bit out of you every time you had to erase it. Already in the first months as a ward, you had felt too much attracted to the prince. A terrible mistake, for he would be betrothed to some important lady, and your House was not big enough to negotiate a marriage.

Besides, Jace would never want you that way. Your nature was totally contrary to his. So you thought that teasing him on a daily basis would be a good way to change his image in your own mind. But it ended up having the opposite result. When you felt his gaze from afar, you needed to be prepared to look back at him, for those eyes would stay with you for nights on end. And when you looked back at him, you always ended up daring him to go on. He, of course, never did, immediately averting his eyes. His flushed cheeks when at dinner Luke would mention how clumsy he'd been during training were so cute...and you couldn't help but peek in during those training sessions, where he'd show up in confidence with his little brother. He handled the sword like a toy, making clacking noises and trying to keep it in his palm with balance. And that smile... the one that always followed with a little laugh.

He was always good to you. As soon as you arrived, Rhaena and Luke welcomed you with confidence, too much perhaps. There were three ways to hang out with them, goofing around and joking together (and Jace was always the main target), putting up with their childish and not-so-childish fights (as they were both looking forward to getting married in the future) or putting up with their honeyed and romantic words. And the fights were fun for you, not so much for Jace. It was the latter that was unbearable. You were a total outcast, and Jace would then let you sit with him wherever he was. You could tell when you were bored because you'd start to be forcibly nice for the first ten minutes. Then Jace would say something that was worthy of mockery like he was so well trained with his sword that he could kill a giant right then and there. And he could see your sweet, sympathetic girl side disappear as you laughed at his exaggerated self-confidence.

"I was joking, clearly," he tried to correct himself.

"Yeah, clearly..." you kept laughing, resting your hand on his shoulder without realising it. "A little confidence is, fine, but you mustn't overdo it."

"I was joking, ok? Giants don't even exist."

"They do exist." You said it with such sudden seriousness that Jace was a little startled and stifled a smile.

"No. They don't exist."

"They do exist, and they're on the other side of the wall."

"Have you even seen them?" He raised an eyebrow, a crooked grin. But you were wiser.

"No, but I haven't been to the other side of The Wall either. And I don't know anyone who has, so I won't accept any empty assertions. Have you been to the other side of The Wall?" You folded your arms. And Jace's little laugh echoed through your head for the rest of the day.

The prince shook his head and pushed you aside affectionately. And you spent the afternoon talking about various creatures that Jace could never compare to his beloved dragons.

Jason Lannister's first male grandson would celebrate his name day in a small but important ceremony. As the future heir to the richest house in the Seven Kingdoms after the Velaryons, they wished for Rhaenyra to go. The Princess declined, and with an excuse, asked Jace to go in her place. After all, the grandson was closer in age to Jace than to her, and having suffered enough with the Lannisters, her son must begin to see what lay ahead. Of course, to his mother, Jace said only that he would do so without protest, but in the privacy of the young friends feeding the dragons, he begged Luke to join him.

"No way. If it seems boring to you, the most 'proper' person I know, then I can't imagine what kind of nightmare you want to drag me into."

"It doesn't have to be boring. I just don't want to go alone... I don't know what to prepare for, it's a..."

"Party?" Rhaena finished for him.

"Yes... Please, Luke, come with me, you know how to make friends better than I do." Jace was about to get down on his knees with his begging.

"That's true, but I don't want to. Lannisters don't make good friends. Besides, you should learn these things on your own. We shouldn't be your only friends."

"Do you have other friends?" He asked him wryly. When you and Rhaena laughed, Jace turned to you both and then you immediately knew you'd made a mistake.

"What about you, ladies? Please...maybe you meet a nobleman of your liking..."

"I'm already betrothed!" Rhaena quickly excused herself, leaving you all alone.

"I can't, I have to..." as you made up an excuse, Jace's eyes narrowed on you. He seemed to be bracing himself for another refusal and his expression made him even more handsome. "...Alright."

It would be a lie if you said you weren't nervous. Not only did you have to choose an appropriate dress, you also had to fly with Jace to get there. Either that or spend a week in a carriage. That second option, as much as you shouldn't, was the one you wanted most. But Rhaenyra wanted the Lannisters not to forget that dragons still existed and that their future king was a good rider. When you mounted Vermax, Jace seemed more nervous than you. Luke, Daemon and Rhaenyra had already let you fly with them on their dragons, and the feeling was fantastic, and you didn't expect any different now. Of course, being so close to Jace was something that seemed to make him uncomfortable, and you tried not to tighten your grip too much. The ride was short, and the skies were calm, so you both enjoyed spectacular views, his speed allowing you to keep your hands loosely on his shoulders. You let Jace tell you everything he had studied about the places you were gazing at, and there was a moment when he fell completely silent.

"Jace?" You asked. "Have you seen anything?"

"No, I just...I thought you weren't listening." He tilted his head a little to try to look at you.

"Well, I am. So go on."

You saw a smile appear as he looked straight ahead again, and continued with his stories. The stories could be boring, they were always about offended men killing other offended men and marrying their orphaned daughters. But Jace told them with such devotion that it was much better than when the Maester sat you down to write such stories. And though you knew most of them already, Jace made new sense of it all.

The young Lannister invited a few more young men, and you were struck by the "austerity" of the dinner. Few were the lords of their houses, for they were all about as young as you and Jace. Of course, the most important guest was Jace, and to your chagrin, there was only one other woman. Beside you stood the young hair of House Tully, as tall as he was dull, and the boy of House Tarth, as short as he was annoying. You could see Jace's face with that serious expression he wore when he tried to be diplomatic, but the Lannister's stupid, disinterested tone made him look out of place. You couldn't help him in the conversation because the heir of Tarth kept making noise, fiddling with his knife as he epically narrated his way of cutting the steak. Jace saw your irritation and sent you a sympathetic glance. You made a not-so-disguised mimicry with your knife as if you now wanted to stick the knife into the boy. The poor prince opened his eyes wide, fearing you had been seen.

"Will you be quiet now, Lord Bryndemere?" The voice of the young Lady Glover rang out loudly, startling everyone. Her dark dress full of leathers and metals gave her a more dignified air than many of the other men there. Of course, the boy stopped and you saw how he was almost on the verge of tears, but you felt no pity at all. And from the smiles of the guests, you were not the only one who was grateful. When the music began, you lost all faith that you could hear Jace's conversation, and when the young Lannister yawned undisguised, the Prince's disappointment broke your heart.

Since you were both bored, you decided to entertain yourself as you did at home. Under the table, your foot slyly groped the floor until you found one of Jace's feet and stepped on it. You didn't hurt him, but he gave you a furtive glance as he quickly moved his feet away. You just smiled at him and shrugged. You did it again, and then again, until Jace couldn't help but retaliate, and wanted to step on you again. Of course, he was more brutish, and when he stepped on you, your smile disappeared as you held back a whimper. Jace panicked for a second, but when you stomped him back, all his pity disappeared.

"Is something wrong, my Prince?" the Lannister asked.

"What? No, no." Jace blushed. He was about to let you win. He didn't. He threw his foot against yours again, but you got lucky.

"What in the seven hells?" Lord Tully snapped angrily. They all turned to him. Jace went white, and before he had to have an even worse time, you decided to lie.

"A rat!"

And you sowed panic with your lie. Everyone rose from their chairs, the braver ones keeping their distance from the table as you scanned the floor for the rodent. The not-so-brave climbed into their chairs, and those in question were little Bryndemere of Tarth and the Lannister himself. Lady Glover picked up her knife confidently, and approached you.

"Where has it gone?" she asked you. For a moment you found it hard to continue the lie, too pleased with the result. But acting was also fun for you.

"I don't know, I just saw it running around!" Your exaggerated tone was more than familiar to Jace and you watched as he tried to pretend he was looking for the rat when in truth he was chuckling under his breath.

The dinner ended there and then, partly because of the rat and partly (and largely) because of the host's embarrassment. You retired to the room that had been prepared for you, and alone you laughed at the events. There were two beds, and the room itself looked like a small house that no peasant could afford. And while Jace was taking off his boots, you were taking off your troublesome dress in your room.

"I have to admit, little Lord Tarth has given me some pity," Jace said from his bed.

"That's because you haven't had him beside you. Lady Glover is my new heroine. I'll compose odes to her." Your response made him laugh.

"You're way too dramatic."

You walked out of the room, your hair already down. And you watched as Jace had also settled in, sitting on his bed and somewhat surprised to see you for the first time with your hair just the way it was.

"I may be too dramatic, in fact, it is a talent, but I've saved you from making a very awkward apology, Jacaerys." You put your hands on your waist, feigning offense.

"You're right." He rose from the bed. "Thank you."

He was back to that diplomatic tone.

"Oh, Jace, it was nothing. It's been fun, we should lie more often. Now do me a favour and help me get the sleeves off my dress."

You turned away, hiding your own blush. You didn't want to call a maid for something as simple as undoing buttons, but you already knew your arms wouldn't reach and you weren't smart enough to think of another dress. Besides, that one looked spectacular on you. You felt Jace come up behind you, and by the way he hesitated before putting his hands behind your back you knew he was nervous too.

"I wasn't talking about the rat..." his fingers were precise, not clumsy at all, and he paid attention to what he was doing, carefully releasing your sleeves. "Thank you for making this fun. Sometimes I'm too serious...but you're not. And I don't- I don't mean that offensively, I mean...you're fun, and young and light. And I feel like you rub off on me, and that with you I'm a version of me where everything is easier."

He finished undoing each button and didn't pull away. You turned to look at him and watched as his eyes travelled from the floor to your eyes. You couldn't help but touch him, your hand seemed to travel to his face on its own, and your fingers caressed his cheek, so clean-shaven and with those pronounced cheekbones. Who could deny the authenticity of Jace "Targaryen"? No one who had seen him in person, of course.

"The politics make men old and ugly, I'm just looking out for your good looks..." you joked, and felt his dimple in your hand. "I know you have too much pressure on you. We all know that, and forgive me if Luke and I ever go too far."

"Easy...I like your jokes. They make me feel smart when the maesters tell you off. I like every little thing you say to me and every idea you have in that weird but strangely beautiful mind of yours."

Okay, this was a little payback from Jace. For it was you now who wanted to pull away and push him away, unable to contain your blushes and wanting to scream at his words. And he could see it, because Jace was smart and attentive, but he didn't expect your reaction. You quickly pulled your hand away from his face, but no one could wipe the smile off your face.

"Wow..." was all you could think of.

"I've never seen you at a loss for words before," he joked.

"I'm not used to so much...appreciation."

"But...you like this 'appreciation'?"

"Yes...I liked it. And I'm not as good with words as you."

Jace took your hand and looked at it, carefully touching the rings that decorated it.

"Well, one thing I've always admired about you is that you always come up with something without needing to use too many words."

And then he looked into your eyes with all the confidence he had always lacked. And your body and mind stopped struggling to get that one thing you had always dreamed of and had forbidden yourself. You threw yourself to his lips, and you felt Jace release your hand to pull your body closer, holding your waist. His lips were so full that it felt so much better than you had imagined, and Jace was slow, enjoying the quietness of the room. When you pulled apart, Jace seemed to realise what had just happened, and you immediately felt terrible. After all, you weren't his fiancée.

"I'm sorry..." you said, pulling away.

"Didn't you like it?" he asked, searching for your face.

"Yes! Yes, I liked it..." you reassured him. "I just don't want to get my hopes up."

"Get your hopes up?"

"I've dreamed of this kiss since the day I met you. But even then I knew someone like you wouldn't marry me. I'd probably marry some common lord like little Bryndemere. And you know, no matter what, I'll be happy as long as I don't get to marry a Tully. He'll bore me to death."

You laughed to yourself, trying to hide the true sorrow you felt at your own reality. This kiss would be one of many that Jace would receive from multiple ladies, when you were already far away, locked in some castle and married to someone other than him. You had already gotten used to the idea, and that kiss was at once as broad and grand as it was scant and short. Now it was Jace who caressed your face.

"I will not allow you to marry Bryndemere. I couldn't bear to live out my days knowing you were away, trying to stab a child. And I won't let you marry a Tully, either, because I know you'd be kicked out of the castle on the third day. I think you'd better stay by my side."

Then he kissed you again, stroking your hair and pulling you even closer that before. You slept in his bed, where you spent the night talking about things that didn't matter, and about things that did. Morning came and you found yourself alone in the bed, Jace was up early and when you came down to say goodbye, he was already waiting for you outside. Before you left, Lady Glover stopped you in the middle of your way.

"Are you the girl who likes giants so much?" she asked you, frowning but in a much kinder tone than you had heard her the night before.

"Yes, you could say they intrigue me..." that was the most correct answer.

"Well, just so you know, my father and Lord Stark travelled to the wall a few years ago. And my father brought home a giant skull. Giants are hard to kill, but they're not immortal...my mother hates to see it in the living room, but I like it, it's creepy." She sniffed air and waited for you to react. When you gawked she gave you a dirty look.

"Giants do exist?"

"Are you deaf? I just told you they do."

"I'm sorry, it's just that... you just made me so happy. I just won so many arguments, my lady." If you could have, you would have hugged her, but the girl wasn't very encouraging.

"Well... now I understand why the Prince asked me to tell you. Anyway, you southern people are so cynical. You can come to see the skull any time, but I warn you, there might be rats in the castle as well."

And she left. When you arrived at Vermax the Prince had already mounted and was smiling at you expectantly. He helped you up and this time you were not afraid to cling to his back, your hands on his chest and your face between his neck and shoulder.

"If Princess Rhaenyra does not let me marry you, Jacaerys Velaryon, I will become the most hateful and irritating lady in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Rest assured, the Princess will not let the heir of Tarth be in danger."

And with a gentle punch on the shoulder, Jace laughed and turned to kiss you sweetly on the lips before ordering Vermax to rise.

[sephirothsplaything]

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 15

A/N: i'm ngl this chapter is short,but packed with a lot! I hate writing short chapters but here we are. There are a few new people reading this story and I wanna say thank you for loving Rhaella(because she fucking needs it)

read the last chapter here!

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen the I;the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond,Cregan,slight Jace,slight Addam,original charecter

PATHETIC WAS THE WALK BACK TO DRAGONSTONE. Rhaella's feet dragged in the sand. She had kidded herself into believing mayhaps all her suffering would at last be rewarded.

Perhaps she should have followed Rhaena to the Vale. At least then nobody would continue to question her progress, or lack thereof.

It seemed she was not the only one encapsulated in gloom. The Prince Jacaerys stood on the steps, gazing out into the water.

''Iksos Baela nykeēdrosa hen?" Rhaella asked, taking place at his side. 'Is Baela still out?'

"Ziry emagon issare mirri jēda." 'It has been some time'

Jace's draw brow furrowed, formulating a High Valyarian response that would not embarrass completely him.

"Ēza.." 'She has' Jace began hesitantly. Rhaella did not mock her cousin, waiting patiently for him to finish.

"Olvie tegon naejot ruaragon" 'She has much land to cover'. He finished unsurely.

A small huff of amusement left Rhaella's lips. Jace, much to his credit had been diligently studying the High Valyarian scrolls. He still had quite a way to go if he was to achieve fluency.

"There is no place for naejot in that sentence." Rhaella corrected.

"Yet another reminder of my own inadequacy" Jace hissed out. Rhaella shifted awkwardly. It was not her intention to strike a nerve.

"You're getting better." Rhaella tried.

Jace scoffed, shooting her a knowing glance. "And nowhere near how you speak."

Seeing an opportunity to feel some semblance of superiority, Rhaella chose to shrug nonchalantly.

"My time was spent in scrolls and pages, yours was in the dragonpits."

The screech of Moondancer cut through, causing both cousins to avert their attention to the skies.

"I do not understand why my mother allows her leave, and not me," Jace said.

Rhaella thought carefully as to what she could say to her cousin. The softer option would be to goad him, reassure Jace that the queen was simply worried about his safety.

But that would be boring, and Rhaella was in desperate need of a distraction.

"It serves in your favor anyhow," Rhaella said. She began to walk to the corridors, Jace quick on her heels.

"Meaning?" Annoyance was palpable in the prince's tone.

Rhaella stopped for a moment, shifting her fervid gaze to Jace. There was a slight amusement, something catlike in her eyes. It took him aback sometimes, how offputting albeit alluring Rhaella was.

"In your wait, you have more time to carefully plan your moves." She continued on walking to the table where Baela already stood.

Rhaella's brow raised slightly at her sister's disheveled hair. Perhaps she ran into some trouble?

"Well?"Queen Rhaenyra asked expectantly. All members of the Black Council impatiently waited for Baela's report.

Baela met Rhaella's gaze mischievously. Just as she thought, her sister and likely been chaotic, as was her nature.

"I saw Ser Criston Cole with half a dozen other knights," Baela said. "Perhaps a scouting for a greater army."

Queen Rhaenyra crossed her arms. Rhaella was hardly surprised, Cole was now a kings guard and was acting accordingly.

Precious time was being wasted on their part. And she knew Jace would agree with her if she cared to voice the thought.

"How could you be sure it was him, and from such a great height?" Queen Rhaenyra asked Baela, eyes focusing on the painted table.

"It was not such a great height, your grace," Baela said cooly. Rhaella held back a snort, surely her sister gave them a proper torment before fleeing.

The queen Rhaenyra did not think it so amusing as she looked to Baela sharply for further explanation.

"You said not to engage so I didn't," Baela spoke. "Not exactly, anyway."

Rhaella's mind drifted to the sound Criston Cole and his party would make when she would scorch them in the flames of Aegarax.

Alas, it was but a fantasy.

"The time to act must be now." Lord Celtigar urges.

Rhaella's eyes traced along the lit table. Cole and his men were heading northeast, but surely not to Harrenhal as her father had claimed it and they would be more than fools to pursue the endeavor.

"Rooks Rest will be the likely destination," Rhaella spoke suddenly, catching all by surprise.

"And pray tell how you came to that conclusion." Ser Arthur said, condescendingly.

At the challenge, Rhaella felt a surge of confidence. She needed not a dragon, only her mind.

Rhaella picked up a piece and slid it between Duskendale and Rooks Rest.

"Both castles are within their distance, I think Criston Coles's army will lay siege there."

Rhaella looked up to face the lords. They held faces of doubt, much to her irritation. Perhaps if she possessed a cock, her words would be taken more seriously.

"She thinks." Ser Aurthor scoffs. Rhaella's face heated up in frustration.

"It is a keen thought." Lord Massey deflects from her softly. She did not wish to be coddled in such a pitiful way.

Jace nudged her shoulder in support, although it hardly made her feel any less silly. She knew he understood the feeling well, however, he was the male heir and she was nothing.

"It is more plausible they would be marching to Harrenhall, word must be sent to Prince Daemon." Lord Massey continued.

"What is your reasoning for such a thought?" Queen Rhaenyra looked to Rhaella.

"It must be a larger scheme one that would force us to--" Rhaella stopped abruptly. A figure walked quickly, almost inhuman into the darkness of the halls.

Her mind had given way to madness, Rhaella was certain. The chillingly familiar pangs of whispers filled her head once more.

'A God must be fed.' it hissed.

"I commend you for the attempt, but you have no such insight into warfare." Lord Celtigar said.

Rhaella wished for the ground to open and swallow her up.

"Still though, I request leave at once to fortify my castle." Lord Simon Staunton said.

So her theory gave way to worry, at least.

"We must do something, your grace." Ser Arther said. It must've been the tenth time he has voiced his opinion. "Set loose the dragons and burn Cole."

Rhaella, in spite of her newfound hatred for Ser Arther, agreed. If the queen would send Rhaenys and Meleys now, while it was dark, any plots the Greens had would end.

But Queen Rhaenyra held fast to her path of peace. Rhaella could no longer admire it, they were at war and people would die either way. Such is the price.

It fell silent as the council waited for Rhaenyra's response. The vexation on Jace's face only grew. He had not given his input, choosing to heed Rhaella's advice.

"I have heard your arguments, and shall consider them." Queen Rhaenyra said, dismissing the council.

"Are you alright?" Baela asked, gently touching Rhaella's arm. "You just disappeared for a moment."

"I…" Rhaella drifted off. Something was here, and she intended to find out what it was.

She shook her head. "Goodnight."

Rhaella hastily marched into the halls. It became apparent to her that this was reckless and maybe her life was in danger.

But in all the places she dared to look, nothing was found. Somehow, she was relieved as she went to her chambers.

It was lonely, usually, Astris was here to help her undress. Rhaella hoped the girl was faring better than her. Slipping into her nightgown, she sat on a stool facing the mirror.

Rhaella could only trust that her plan could bear some semblance of success, lest she embarrass herself yet again.

Her eyes tugged toward the pillow atop her bed. Aemond's letter was still there, testing Rhaella's already weakened resolve.

"It's nothing remarkable, save for a load of blabber." A voice spoke.

Rhaella knew that voice, the one to blame for her dreams of torment.

Her eyes snapped up to the mirror, seeing a man standing behind her. He was tall, unnervingly so, with tanned skin and curls of chocolate brown.

And his eyes were black as the night sky, leaving no parts white.

Stumbling, Rhaella fell from her stool in a panic. Her eyes frantically looked around for anything to defend herself.

"It wouldn't work anyhow."He said, an odd smile gracing his lips.

"What the fuck are you?" Rhaella bit shakily. The man plopped carelessly onto the floor across from her.

"I suppose it depends on who you'd like me to be." He said.

She could scream and guards would rush over in a moments time.

He chuckled lowly. "You would only look foolish Rhaella."

Rhaella tucked her knees further into herself. He was invading her thoughts.

"Stop that," Rhaella demanded.

"You should be far used to this by now." He retorted.

Yes, she had grown used to her own insanity. The voice that had led her to kill a man had now manifested into something she could see.

"And you chose this form, for what purpose?" Rhaella asked. Besides his abnormal eyes and height, the man was more or less human, handsome even.

He hummed out playfully, taking his time much to Rhaella's irritation.

"I had a mind to take your mother's appearance, though I figured it would deter you."

Rhaella scoffed in disbelief. So the Gods truly did revel in mocking her.

"It seemed to work on the last one, such a frail little thing she was." He mused.

Not only were the Gods very much real, it seemed. But this one had taken the liberty of revealing himself…to her.

"What.." Rhaella began. He crawled over to her, his black eyes boring into hers. Not looking at her, but rather in her.

"What do you want from me?" Rhaella asked.

"I am hungry, Rhaella." His voice dropped lower with an inhumane sound. Petrified, she pressed herself further to the wall, but to no avail.

He had long been inside of her.

"I require blood" A finger brushed one of Rhaella's silver curls to the side-- Her eyes squeezed shut.

"But..you know that, don't you?"

Rhaella drew in a breath. His voice was cold like pure death. When she sought the courage to open her eyes, he had vanished. She was forced to wonder if this was a dream.

Standing to her feet in a stupor. Rhaella's hands trembled. She could not sleep here, if at all.

She missed her mother, horribly. It was a fact that she often tried to bury, but alas Rhaella craved the warm touch of her.

She missed Rhaena.

Astris. Her Father. Luke.

Aemond.

What was this?

Rhaella wrapped her arms around her waist, striding all the way to Baela's chamber.

She did not bother knocking either. Softly closing the door behind her, she stood over Baela's sleeping form.

If she were to lose her sisters, her family to this war-- All reason would be lost to her.

Her mind was made up. She would spill blood in her family's name.

Baela's eyes flickered open, jumping at the sight of her sister.

"Rhaella?" Baela whispered, voice laced with sleep.

She inched herself over her sister's body, flopping onto the unoccupied side.

Baela watched her in uncertainty. Her sister was suffering. From what? She knew Rhaella would rather die than tell her.

But when she saw how her little sister's body shook, Baela drew her arms over her.

It was all she could think to do.

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Tags: @leahnicole1219 <3 ^3^

[howyouloveyourdragon]

What about yandere Daemon joining yandere Rhaenyra in being obsessed with half-sister!reader?

Would they marry her? (Aegon I had 2 wives)

oh 100%, i've written headcanons for this but let me know if you would like a fic once asks are reopened (probably sometime next week) because 👀

i've written this in the direction of this being similar to a sequel to my other Rhaenyra x half-sister asks

i don't think he would be attracted to her initially because he sees her plainly as Alicent's offspring and we all know how he feels about Alicent but he would still respect that Rhaenyra cares for you

i think Daemon x Rhaenyra's half-sister would be very much slow burn

he'll ignore you about the castle once Rhaenyra has you in her grasp but one day he's in the library and spots you reaching up to take down a book on Valyrian history. He frowns and studies the spine before regrettably deciding to approach

it is not often that he lets his desires go unheard of so he asks what you're reading so that he can be sure and when you answer he feels the slightest of intrigue nestle in his gut

he offers to teach you of his conquest of the stepstones and the second your eyes sparkle in interest he's fallen

it becomes a habit to join you in the library while Rhaenyra is off during her duties and even more of a habit to tease you greatly though if anyone so much as attempts to do so themselves, his sword is pressed to their neck quicker than they can draw next breath

he does not wish for you to see him in his violent tendencies but he does want you to see him protecting you and your honour

Rhaenyra will point blank refuse to draw bloodshed before you but Daemon enjoys a making a slow show of whomever disrespects you

Rhaenyra cannot lie and say that it doesn't bring a fond smile to her face when she sees you together in this newfound friendship but it does surprise her when friendship turns into desire before her very eyes.

She doesn't however remember when the feelings changed and neither can he

his eyes stared down at you one evening as you talked excitedly with Baela and Rhaena and suddenly he was imagining you caring for them as you do Jace, Luke and Joffrey, a twitch to his lip and he's down bad

the same night it happens he corners Rhaenyra in the hall but is shocked when she confronts him

Daemon will not deny it, he is a proud man and insist on discussion, pleasantly surprised when Rhaenyra offers a compromise between your affections – they share you

i think Rhaenyra would agree very enthusiastically to another Valyrian wedding ceremony, the more attention and protection her darling garners the better though you may be quite hesitant at first

despite it all Alicent is still your loving mother and you care for her and you know she is not fond of Daemon

too many changes at once might startle you

he would ease you into the idea but visiting you to the point of smothering and partaking his entertainment in your chambers

he won't have sex with you until you ask it of him but he will leave hints, he might dangle your desires in front of you before snatching them away with a promise of giving it to you tenfold in return for your hand in marriage

regardless, you will find yourself with two spouses and soon he refuses to leave your bed, complaining of his clingy arms

i think there might be some conflict between Rhaenyra and Daemon's methods of keeping you safe, while Rhaenyra will want to shelter you and especially during the war, Daemon will want you to see the pain your family is inflicting on your spouses

he is a lot more possessive than his other wife and impulsive too

he will act as though he is nonethewiser of your heritage in your presence but when Alicent or your siblings are present he will put on a show and keep you wrapped up in his arms with a smug grin

the blood of those who insult you have become a staple in his clothing, he will don it proudly

gift giving will be one method he uses to garner your attention though anything he gives you will have something distinctly Daemon about it, he needs you to think about him as much as he thinks about you

i think he would be very glad to gift you jewellery above other things because he will see it as staking his claim when you wear it

he won't hurt you but if the time comes for arguments he might be quite violent in throwing possessions

when it comes to bedchambers i think he would demand you all share whereas Rhaenyra would ask if you would prefer the privacy of separate (if you did take this offer it would hurt her dearly but she does not wish for you to feel trapped despite her displeasure when you are not within her sight)