#Aegon ii Targaryen

[queenofcarrion]

GIF by @carisi-rollins ❤️🙏🏻

Sunfyre learning Common Tongue because Aegon never learned how to speak in Valyrian

[js-dragonart]

Mid-motion screen caps are the best. Aemond being out there, playing a game of "catch the gremlin".

[novaursa]

To Save Us Both

- Summary: Aegon was your shadow ever since you were a child. And once you come of age and Viserys gives your hand to Lord Tyrell's son, Aegon makes a decision that would save you both—and ruin you all the same.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You had always been the quiet one, the shadow lingering just outside the gilded glow of your family’s attention. As the second daughter of King Viserys and Queen Alicent, you lived in the space between your mother’s careful plans and your father’s indulgent dismissiveness. Helaena had her dreams and riddles, and Aegon—your elder brother—had his bravado and recklessness. And then there was you.

From the earliest days, Aegon sought your attention with a peculiar intensity. At first, it was innocent enough. He would seek you out during lessons, deliberately sit beside you at the long table in the Red Keep’s library, or tug on your sleeve when you were absorbed in your Valyrian texts.

“Y/N, look at this!” he exclaimed one day, barely past eight, holding a wooden dragon he had carved—or at least claimed to have carved. It was crude, the wings uneven, but you smiled at him regardless.

“It’s… unique,” you replied, your voice soft, careful not to wound his pride.

“Unique?” His face fell slightly before he puffed up with exaggerated bravado. “I think it’s better than that. It looks like Vhagar, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a little smaller than Vhagar,” you teased gently, a rare flicker of mirth dancing in your eyes. Aegon’s pout faded into a grin, and he sat beside you, his body leaning just a little too close.

It was always like this with Aegon. He thrived on your smiles, craved your laughter, and seemed to falter when you turned away from him. When Helaena pulled you into her world of strange, whispered riddles or Aemond showed off his knowledge of dragons to impress you, Aegon’s mood would darken.

One afternoon, the court gathered in the gardens for a brief reprieve from the heat of the Red Keep. You had found a shaded spot beneath a weeping willow, a book of High Valyrian poetry resting in your lap. Aemond stood beside you, his expression serious as he recited lines from memory, his voice low and earnest.

“Se perzys ipradagon ziry ry,” he said, his pale gaze fixed on you. “The flame consumes it all.”

You nodded thoughtfully, your lips curving in approval. “You’ve improved,” you said, your voice warm, and Aemond’s face lit up with quiet pride.

From across the garden, Aegon watched, his jaw tightening. He drained his goblet of wine in one swift motion and made his way toward you, his steps purposeful.

“What’s this?” Aegon interrupted, his tone light but sharp around the edges. He flopped down beside you, ignoring Aemond entirely. “High Valyrian poetry? How dull.”

“It’s not dull,” you said, looking up at him with a small frown. “Aemond has been practicing.”

“Oh, Aemond’s been practicing,” Aegon mocked, his voice dripping with exaggerated awe. “How impressive.” He reached over and plucked the book from your lap, flipping through it carelessly. “You should do something more fun, Y/N. We could go riding or—”

“She doesn’t have time for your games,” Aemond said coldly, stepping closer.

“And you don’t have time for your lessons, apparently,” Aegon snapped back, his smile sharp. “Run along, little brother.”

“Aegon,” you said, a note of warning in your voice. He turned to you, the sharpness in his expression softening instantly.

“What? I’m just saying we could have more fun.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’d rather spend time with me, wouldn’t you?”

Your brows knit together, and you glanced between your brothers, torn. “Aemond and I were having a conversation.”

“But I’m more interesting,” Aegon pressed, his grin widening as he tilted his head, his violet eyes searching yours.

You sighed, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Only for you, dear sister,” he replied, the words carrying a weight you didn’t fully grasp.

As you grew older, Aegon’s attempts to claim your attention became bolder. When suitors began to glance your way at feasts, he was quick to position himself between you and them, his arm draped casually over the back of your chair, his voice louder, his laugh more boisterous.

One evening, a young lord from the Reach had spent far too long at your side, his compliments earning your shy smiles. Aegon, seated nearby, clenched his goblet so tightly that the metal bent under his grip.

When the lord finally excused himself, Aegon slid into his place, his eyes narrowing as he looked after the retreating figure. “Do you actually enjoy listening to that drivel?” he asked, his tone laced with disdain.

“He was kind,” you said simply, glancing at him.

“Kind? He was duller than a broken sword,” Aegon retorted, his gaze fixed on you. “You deserve better.”

“And who would that be?” you asked, your voice carrying a note of challenge.

His smirk faltered for a moment, his expression turning uncharacteristically earnest. “Someone who knows you. Someone who’s been by your side all along.”

Your breath caught, his words lingering in the space between you. But before you could respond, he laughed, the moment breaking as quickly as it had come. “But not him,” he added, his usual arrogance slipping back into place. “You’re mine, little sister.”

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or scold him, but the possessiveness in his tone left an unspoken promise lingering in the air. Aegon would always vie for your attention, no matter who tried to steal it away.

The announcement had been made during a routine gathering of the family, with King Viserys seated at the head of the table, Alicent by his side. His words were spoken with the offhandedness of someone making a trivial decision, though the weight of them crashed into Aegon like a hammer.

“It’s time we secure another alliance,” Viserys had said, his gaze landing on you. “Lord Tyrell has expressed interest in a match between his eldest son and our daughter.”

You sat frozen in your seat, your wineglass trembling slightly in your hand. Across the table, Aegon’s face darkened. His lips parted as if to protest, but no words came. Instead, he stared at Viserys, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the table.

The conversation moved on, Viserys discussing trade agreements and naval concerns, but Aegon heard none of it. His mind was a whirl of chaos, his heart pounding so fiercely it drowned out the voices around him.

Later that evening, he stormed into Alicent’s chambers, his face pale and his violet eyes wild. She was seated by the hearth, embroidering a handkerchief with practiced precision. When she saw him, her calm expression shifted to one of concern.

“Aegon?” she asked, setting the embroidery aside. “What’s the matter?”

“I need to speak with you,” he said, his voice strained. He paced the room, running a hand through his hair, the usual air of arrogance stripped away. “It’s about Y/N.”

Alicent’s brow furrowed, her motherly instincts kicking in. “What about her?”

“They can’t marry her off,” he blurted, turning to face her. “Not to the Tyrell boy. Not to anyone.”

“Aegon,” she said softly, rising from her chair. “It’s a good match. Lord Tyrell is powerful, and his son—”

“I don’t care about his son!” Aegon interrupted, his voice rising. “I don’t care about alliances or power or any of it. She belongs here, with us. With me.”

Alicent froze, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied her eldest son. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I can’t let this happen.” He took a step closer, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Mother, you have to stop it. You’re the only one he listens to.”

She reached out, placing a hand on his arm to steady him. “Aegon, you’re being irrational. Y/N’s future—”

“My future doesn’t exist without her!” he cried, his voice desperate. “Don’t you see? She’s the only thing in this world that matters to me.”

Alicent’s lips parted, her expression shifting from concern to something more conflicted. “Aegon…” she began, but he cut her off.

“She’s everything to me,” he said, his voice softer now, trembling with vulnerability. “When she laughs, it’s like the sun breaks through the clouds. When she looks at me, I feel like I’m someone worth being. And the thought of her—of her with someone else—” His voice broke entirely, and he turned away, his shoulders shaking.

Alicent watched him for a long moment, her mind racing. Finally, she spoke, her tone measured. “You care for her deeply.”

Aegon let out a bitter laugh. “Care for her? Mother, I love her. I’ve always loved her. And if they take her from me, if they marry her off to that Tyrell boy or anyone else…” He turned back to her, his face etched with anguish. “I’ll die. Do you hear me? I’ll die.”

The rawness of his words struck Alicent to her core. She had always known Aegon’s feelings for you went beyond brotherly affection, though she had hoped it was a passing infatuation. But the desperation in his voice, the tears brimming in his eyes—it was undeniable. This wasn’t a childish crush. This was a man willing to set the world aflame for the one he loved.

“You must speak to Father,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Convince him. Tell him it’s not the right match, that she’s too young, that the Tyrells aren’t trustworthy—anything. Just stop it.”

Alicent hesitated, torn between her role as a mother and her duty as queen. Finally, she nodded, her voice firm. “I will speak with him. But, Aegon…” She stepped closer, placing a hand on his cheek. “You must tread carefully. This path you’re walking—it’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” he said, his voice resolute. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her by my side.”

Alicent sighed, pulling him into a brief embrace. “Then let us hope the gods are merciful.”

As Aegon left her chambers, a flicker of determination replaced the despair in his eyes. If his mother couldn’t stop the betrothal, he would find another way. He would fight, scheme, beg—whatever it took. Because losing you wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

The candles burned low in Aegon’s chambers as he paced the floor. The wine on his table sat untouched, an unusual sight for him. Tonight, Aegon’s mind was too sharp, too focused, to indulge in his usual vices. The Tyrell betrothal still loomed like a sword over his head, and every moment that passed without a resolution tightened the noose around his heart.

He had spoken to Alicent, begged her to intervene, but her assurances felt fragile against Viserys’s iron will. His father had grown increasingly indifferent to the pleas of his children, too consumed by his own decaying health and dream of uniting the realm. If Alicent couldn’t sway him, Aegon knew he needed to act. He needed to ensure that there was no choice but to keep you by his side.

The idea had taken root in his mind slowly, twisting and growing until it consumed him entirely. It wasn’t honorable, nor was it kind, but Aegon was neither of those things. He was desperate. And desperation made monsters of men.

That night, as the Red Keep grew silent and the court retired to their chambers, Aegon found you in the library. You were alone, the firelight illuminating your soft features as you poured over a book. It was a scene he had seen a hundred times, but tonight it struck him differently. Tonight, he couldn’t afford to wait, to hope that things would somehow fall in his favor.

“Still reading?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorway.

You glanced up, startled but not displeased to see him. “I could say the same to you. It’s unusual to find you here without a cup of wine in hand.”

He smirked, though the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “I suppose even I have my moments of sobriety.”

You smiled faintly and returned your attention to the page, but Aegon didn’t move. He stepped closer, his boots soft against the stone floor, and you glanced up again, your brows knitting in confusion.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re hovering,” you said plainly, though there was no malice in your tone.

Aegon chuckled, but it sounded hollow even to his ears. He sat beside you, closer than usual, his knee brushing yours. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

He hesitated, his fingers tracing the edge of the table. “About the Tyrell boy.”

You stiffened slightly, your gaze dropping back to the book. “Father has made his decision. There’s little point in discussing it.”

“Do you want to marry him?” Aegon pressed, his voice low and urgent.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you said, your tone soft but resigned. “My duty is to the family, to the realm.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, leaning closer. “Do you want him, Y/N? Do you want to leave the Red Keep, leave me, and go to Highgarden?”

You turned to him, your eyes wide with surprise and something else—confusion, perhaps. “Why does it matter to you?”

Aegon swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Because I can’t lose you. You’re mine.”

“Aegon—”

“Listen to me,” he said, his hand reaching out to grasp yours. “You don’t belong with him. You belong here, with your family, with me.”

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened. “Aegon, you’re not making any sense.”

“I love you,” he blurted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ve always loved you, Y/N. And I can’t let them take you from me.”

Your lips parted, shock evident on your face. “You’re my brother.”

“And that makes it wrong?” he challenged, his voice trembling. “Our blood of the dragon is the same, our bond stronger than any lord or knight could ever offer you. Don’t you see? We were meant to be together.”

You stared at him, your mind racing, but before you could respond, Aegon leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if he were testing the boundaries of what you would allow. When you didn’t pull away, he deepened it, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

You pushed him back abruptly, your eyes wide with a mix of confusion and anger. “Aegon, this is madness.”

“It’s the truth,” he said, his voice raw. “And I’ll prove it to you. If they try to marry you off, I’ll stop them. I’ll make sure you stay here, with me.”

“How?” you demanded, your voice rising. “What are you planning?”

He hesitated, the weight of his scheme hanging heavily between you. “If Father won’t listen, then I’ll give him no choice. If you’re mine, truly mine, he can’t send you away.”

The implication of his words hit you like a blow, and you took a step back, your chest heaving. “You mean to ruin me,” you whispered, horrified.

“To save you,” he countered, his expression desperate. “To save us.”

You shook your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “Aegon, this isn’t the way.”

“It’s the only way,” he said, reaching for you again. “Don’t you see? I’d burn the whole world to keep you.”

You turned away, your heart pounding, and fled the library, leaving Aegon alone in the flickering firelight. He stood there for a long moment, his hands clenched into fists, his mind racing.

If you wouldn’t accept his love willingly, then he would ensure there was no other path for you to take.

Whatever it cost, whatever it took, you would be his.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - A King, Kneeling

Summary - Atop the Iron Throne, the King and Queen surrender to their desires, intertwining passion with the weight of power. As their reckless love ignites in public, the boundaries of duty and devotion blur, revealing the tantalizing thrill of both conquest and intimacy.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), strong language

Word count - 2731

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

The king adored his queen.

It wasn't just whispered gossip or idle courtly chatter—it was a truth so palpable that even those who lived on intrigue couldn't ignore it. But they did try. 

They preferred to pretend, to look away from the rare sight that defied their expectations. After all, kings weren't supposed to love their queens with the kind of devotion Aegon had for me.

But he did. Oh, how he did. Fiercely. Brazenly.

"Aegon," I warned, trying to sound firm, but my voice quivered under the weight of his attention. His arm stretched out, beckoning me closer with an unspoken command, the kind only a king could give. 

I hesitated, my eyes narrowing in suspicion, but the slow curl of a smirk tugging at his lips was enough to break my resistance.

"What are you up to?" I asked, a mix of curiosity and caution in my voice, as I took a step toward him.

"Come here," he murmured again, his tone low and dripping with mischief.

I barely had time to blink before he seized me, pulling me onto his lap with an effortless motion. 

His hands were on me instantly, seeking the familiar warmth of my skin as if they had every right to it—because in his mind, they did.

"Aegon!" I scolded, but the heat in my cheeks betrayed the effect his touch had on me. I glanced around the grand hall, the Iron Throne looming under us. 

The Kingsguard were at their posts, their eyes dutifully trained on the stone walls, but I knew better. They weren't blind, though they pretended to be. 

How could they not see their king lavishing such affection on his queen in the open like this?

His fingers trailed down my spine, his grin growing as he felt me shiver under his touch.

"What?" he asked, voice dripping with false innocence as though he had no idea what he was doing.

I turned to face him fully, a sharp retort on my lips, but his gaze—smouldering and full of playful hunger—caught me off, guard. 

"Don't play coy with me, Aegon," I muttered, though the breathless hitch in my voice betrayed my intent.

"I missed my wife," he said, so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as though his absence was unbearable even when we were in the same room.

I rolled my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "You can miss her in our chambers, Aegon. Privately. You're sitting on the Iron Throne, for the gods' sake."

He tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness, before leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "I want to miss her right here." 

His breath sent a ripple of heat through me, and before I could protest, he shifted, positioning me so that I was now sitting atop the throne, while he knelt before me—a king, kneeling.

My heart pounded in my chest. "Aegon, stop!" I hissed, but my words fell soft as his hands crept higher, tangling in the folds of my skirts. 

The sensation of the metal throne behind me, cold and rigid, contrasted with the warmth of his touch, driving me mad.

"Why would I stop?" he teased, his voice full of wicked amusement, eyes dark with intent. 

He tugged my skirts higher, his fingers inching dangerously close to places they shouldn't be, not here. Not now.

I shot a panicked glance toward the room, my heart racing. The guards stood within view, pretending to be statues, but I could feel their presence like a heavy weight. 

"Aegon, not in front of them," I whispered, my voice trembling, urgent.

He paused, his fingers stilling just enough for his eyes to meet mine, mock surprise written across his face as though he'd just now remembered they existed.

Then, with a sudden change, he stood, his voice rising, all command, all king. "Everyone. Out."

The guards exchanged nervous glances, armour clinking as they hesitated, unsure if they had heard him correctly. 

Aegon's gaze sharpened, his voice carrying the authority of a ruler unchallenged. "Now!"

They moved quickly, their footsteps echoing in the vast hall as they shuffled out, casting anxious looks over their shoulders.

The room was empty now—silent, save for the distant echo of armour clanking as the last of the Kingsguard left. 

My heart hammered in my chest, every beat echoing in the sudden stillness. The heavy door closed with a resounding thud, sealing us in the throne room. 

Just Aegon, me, and the Iron Throne.

Aegon turned back to me, his devilish grin wider than before, his eyes full of sinful promise. 

"Now," Aegon breathed, his voice dipping into a dark, husky tone that sent shivers down my spine. His eyes gleamed with that wickedness I knew all too well, and yet, each time, it caught me off guard. 

"It's just you, me, and the throne," he whispered, his hands roaming, fingers trailing slowly, deliberately, up my thighs beneath the fabric of my skirts.

"Aegon," I whispered, my voice wavering between warning and longing. 

My back pressed harder into the cold, jagged metal of the throne, a sharp reminder of where we were—what this symbolized. I tried to stay grounded, to keep my senses, but his hands... gods, his hands had a way of making me forget.

"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, just a ghost of a touch, but enough to make my breath catch. 

He looked up at me from beneath those dark lashes, a devilish glint in his eyes, as he slowly knelt before me once more.

A king, kneeling.

I tried to push him back, hands on his shoulders, but the moment I made contact with his skin, the heat between us flared. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me forward with a gentle insistence, and I melted into the sensation, the fight leaving me in a sigh.

"Stop it," I whispered, though it came out more like a plea than a command. "Not here, Aegon, we can't—"

But before I could finish, his lips were against me, his mouth tracing a line of fire over my skin. 

My protests died on my tongue, replaced by a sharp gasp. His hands were firm but tender, spreading my legs as he settled between them, his fingers curling into the soft flesh of my thighs, holding me open for him as though the throne itself were a bed built for this very moment.

"You deserve to be worshipped," he murmured, his voice sending vibrations through me. "And I intend to do just that."

The cool bite of the Iron Throne's metal was a contrast to the heat building inside me, the jagged edges digging into my back, but I barely noticed. 

All I could feel was him—his mouth, his tongue, the deliberate, tantalizing way he took his time as if savouring every taste, every sound he drew from me.

"Aegon..." I moaned, his name slipping past my lips, a breathless prayer. 

My hands gripped the throne, knuckles white as I tried to anchor myself to something, anything, but he was relentless. 

His tongue swirled, teasing, flicking against me in just the right way, and my body responded helplessly to his touch, every nerve alight with pleasure.

The throne room, the court, the world—all of it faded away. There was only Aegon, his mouth working its magic, his hands guiding me toward the edge. 

His every move was deliberate, calculated—he knew me too well, knew exactly how to drive me to madness.

"Do you know how beautiful you look?" he whispered against me, his breath hot, making my skin tingle. "Up here, on the Iron Throne, all mine."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through me, the weight of them mingling with the sensation of his tongue. 

I squirmed, trying to muffle the sounds escaping me, but he growled in response, the vibration reverberating through my body.

"Don't hide from me," he commanded, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with me, his lips glistening with the evidence of my desire. "I want to hear you."

I swallowed hard, trembling under the intensity of his gaze. 

My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back to me, needing him to continue, to finish what he started. He obliged, his tongue diving deeper, stroking me with a renewed fervour that sent waves of heat crashing through me.

The room spun, and I bit my lip hard, trying to keep control, but he wasn't having it. 

Aegon's hands gripped me tighter, pulling me closer to his mouth as he pushed me closer to the brink, his tongue working me with an almost agonizing skill.

And then, just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, he pressed his lips to the most sensitive part of me and sucked.

The world shattered. Pleasure tore through me, violent and uncontrollable, and I cried out, my hands clutching at him, nails digging into his shoulders as I tumbled over the edge. 

Aegon didn't let up, drawing out every last tremor until I was left breathless, limp, slumped against the throne, the cold metal biting into my skin in sharp contrast to the molten heat still pulsing through my body.

He rose slowly, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk as he loomed over me, his eyes dark with triumph. "Still want to send me to our chambers?" he teased, voice thick with amusement.

I could barely find my voice, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of his attention. "You're impossible," I whispered, my heart racing, my body both sated and longing for more.

His grin widened, predatory. "Only for you, my queen."

My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, but Aegon—he was far from finished.

His eyes locked onto mine, dark with hunger, satisfaction gleaming in them like firelight. His mouth, still glistening from the sinful worship he'd lavished on me, curved into a wicked grin. 

The power in that gaze sent another jolt of heat coursing through me, even as my body ached from the intensity of what he'd already done.

"Impossible," I muttered again, my voice weak but defiant. A flicker of a smile tugged at my lips, even though my body was still recovering from the waves of pleasure he'd brought me.

Aegon leaned in close, one hand gripping the arm of the throne beside my head, the other trailing down my body, claiming me like I was his throne—his alone to possess. 

"I haven't even begun, my queen," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Before I could respond, his lips were on mine, and this kiss—gods, this kiss—wasn't sweet or soft. It was urgent, devouring. 

He kissed me like a man starved like he was tasting his favorite sin and couldn't get enough. 

I could taste myself on him, and it only fueled the fire burning between us.

I groaned against his mouth, my hands instinctively gripping the folds of his tunic, pulling him closer. His body pressed into mine, his hard length straining against the fabric of his breeches, leaving no doubt about what he wanted next.

"Aegon," I gasped as he broke the kiss, his lips moving to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

My hands roamed his back, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him—all of him.

His mouth worked lower, biting, sucking at the sensitive skin just beneath my ear, making me shiver. 

"You're my queen," he murmured, the words a low growl against my neck, "and I intend to make sure you feel it."

Without warning, he pulled me up with him, his hands tugging at my skirts, yanking them up over my hips, exposing me fully. 

The cold air of the throne room hit my bare skin, making me gasp, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him. 

He pulled me to him, and I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against me through his clothes, a tantalizing promise of what was to come.

I barely had time to react before his hands were at his waist, unfastening his belt, his movements swift and practised. 

In one smooth motion, he freed himself, and my breath hitched at the sight of him—ready, eager, and gloriously bare in the soft light of the throne room.

"Aegon," I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation, my body already aching for him.

He met my gaze, his eyes smouldering with a mixture of love and raw lust. 

"I want to take you right here," he said, his voice low, a dangerous promise laced within it. "I want to fuck you on the Iron Throne, where you belong."

My breath caught in my throat, the thrill of his words sending a rush of heat through me. 

The audacity of it—the sheer madness of what we were about to do—made my pulse race, and yet, I couldn't stop the surge of desire that overtook me.

I glanced at the throne beneath me, the cold metal, the jagged edges. 

It was a symbol of power, a symbol of rule, but tonight... tonight, it was going to be the stage for something far more primal.

Without waiting for my answer, Aegon lifted me effortlessly, his hands gripping my thighs as he positioned me over him. 

My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance, teasing, taunting.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice husky, commanding, and when my eyes met his, the raw desire in them nearly undid me. 

"I want to watch you fall apart on my cock, right here, on my throne."

Before I could respond, he thrust into me, filling me in one deep, powerful stroke. I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders as my back arched, pressing me harder into the cold spikes of the Iron Throne behind me. 

The contrast of the cold metal against my heated skin only intensified the sensation, and I let out a low moan as he began to move.

Aegon's hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he set a relentless pace, each thrust driving me harder against the throne. 

The room spun around me, the world narrowing to just the two of us—his cock buried deep inside me, his breath hot against my neck, his grunts of pleasure mixing with my own ragged moans.

I tried to find my voice, to say something—anything—but all I could do was cling to him, my nails digging into his back as he drove me closer to the edge. 

"Aegon... gods..." I whimpered, my head falling back as he angled his hips just right, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"That's it," he growled, his grip on me tightening as he pounded into me harder, faster. "Take it. Take all of me."

The throne pressed into my back, the jagged edges digging into my skin, but I barely noticed the pain—it only heightened the intensity of what was happening, grounding me in the reality of it all. 

We were fucking on the Iron Throne, claiming each other in the most reckless, forbidden way imaginable, and gods, it felt incredible.

I could feel myself unravelling, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. My body tightened around him, and he groaned, his rhythm faltering as he felt it too.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice raw, desperate. "Cum for your king."

His words sent me spiralling over the edge. I cried out, my body shuddering around him as I came, the pleasure crashing through me in violent waves. 

Aegon followed me into oblivion, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilt into me with a low, guttural moan, his forehead resting against mine as we rode out the aftershocks together.

For a moment, we stayed like that, our bodies intertwined, breath mingling in the heavy air of the throne room. The world was silent around us, save for the sound of our laboured breathing.

Finally, Aegon pulled back, his eyes still dark with satisfaction as he gazed down at me. His lips curved into a lazy, contented grin, and he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. 

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with certainty. "Here, on the throne, in our chambers—everywhere. You're mine."

I smiled, my body still trembling, my heart full of both love and lust. "And you," I murmured, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, "are mine."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, before kissing me again—this time slow, sweet, a promise of everything yet to come. "Always."

A/n - 'I want to watch you fall apart on my cock, right here, on my throne'... anyways one wrong move and you're speared xx

[justmarisue]

Aegon causes a pleasant feeling inside me, something I can't explain, but I love feeling it🌝😌

AEGON TARGARYEN  House of the Dragon | 1.08 “The Lord of the Tides”

requested by anonymous

[taniatas]

[gotham-at-nightfall]

Crowns of the Targaryen Dynasty

By Jota Saraiva

[js-dragonart]

A drama in three acts.

Someone reposted one of these and called the whole ordeal "the great escape" and it made me cackle so much.

Aegon Targaryen, our smol escape artist.

[connorsui]

As much as I love aemond and would have thrown down my entire bloodline and my uterus to have this man become my husband and the father of my children ...you would not see me give up the opportunity to drive myself towards somebody like aegon who's practically on his hands and knees begging to wed me and become a soulmate to me ..

This man aegon would rather drown himself in his cups of alcohol that I swear to yall if this was modern he would go back to back with a shot of vodka to a glass of bourbon to make himself forget ever hearing we were getting married to his brother and not him...he has such an unhealthy target that having me as a wife would be his only salvation ..

And it makes me wanna rip out my own veins to present them on a gold platter cuz Jesus would I pray to have a desperate man begging for my hand like aegon

I love him so much 🩷✨️

Aegon has been in love with reader for years but she got betrothed to Aemond. She finds Aegon drunk at her door and she takes him in. He tells her he loves her and make smut happen please

I've been on a roll with these request this week! Only three days until the start of Season 2 *screaming*

Question: Should I add Cregan Stark to my character list? If yes, please send requests for him <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, drunk!Aegon, unprotected p + v, cheating (on Aemond)

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

—

When the news dropped, Aegon was devastated. He had always known his feelings for you ran deep, but hearing that you were to be betrothed to his own brother made him regret not asking for your hand sooner. The thought of losing you to Aemond gnawed at his heart.

In a fit of fury, Aegon stormed into Aemond's chambers, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘’You knew of my feelings for her, how can you do this to me?’’ he spat, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. 

Aemond looked up from his book, his expression calm and composed. ‘’Father wanted to unite our families. I’m only doing my duty,’’ he replied, his tone measured and devoid of emotion.

Aegon’s frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist on the table, making the goblets and plates clatter. ‘’Fuck duty!’’ he shouted. His voice broke as he continued, ‘’I just…I just want her.’’

Aemond sighed, placing his book aside. ‘’I was asked to marry her, not you. You already have the throne.’’

The throne was given to him because he was the first son. Aegon never asked for it, never cared for ruling or showed interest in politics. He would rather spend his life with you and Sunfyre than sit on the Iron Throne. 

‘’I would exchange my birthright for her in a heartbeat,’’ he confessed, his voice unwavering.  

Later at dinner, Aegon didn’t come down to eat. He couldn't beat the idea of seeing you sitting beside Aemond during a meal. So, he stayed in his chamber, drowning himself with wine. His goblet wasn’t even empty that he would fill it up again. 

He drank until the sun went down and his pitcher was almost empty, and fell asleep on his couch with his goblet in hand. It wasn’t surprising considering how much he had drunk. 

When Aegon woke a few hours later, the castle was sleeping under the cover of darkness. He stood and found himself stumbling through the corridors. His feet carried him to your door in the guest wing, having been many many times. You always took the same chamber when you visited King’s Landing. Aegon raised his fist to knock, but before he could, the door creaked open.

You expected to find a servant with your tea, but instead found your uncle Aegon. A frown of surprise and concern creased between your eyebrows. ‘’Aegon? What are you doing here?’’

He swayed slightly, leaning heavily against the doorframe with his undershirt untucked from his breeches. His eyes were red, his expression a mixture of anger and sorrow. ‘’You can’t marry him. Please, don’t marry him,’’ he mumbled, his words slurred from the wine.

You should have walked him back to his chamber or alert the Queen of her son’s state, but instead you stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. 

Aegon stumbled through the doorway, and you came to his side, helping him sit onto the bed bench. He leaned forwards as you let go of him, resting his forearms on his thighs and his spinning head in his hands. 

You watched him with a heavy heart, guilt knotting your stomach. ‘’I’m sorry for the betrothal. I wanted to tell you myself, but our parents sent the ravens before I could.’’ 

‘’Don’t marry Aemond.’’ Aegon grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him. ‘’Don’t do this to me.’’ He looked up at you, his eyes pleading. 

You stayed silent, looking down at him. There were a hundred reasons you should put a stop to this right now. Aegon was drunk. He wasn’t in his right mind. And yet, seeing him like this, vulnerability written all over him, made your heart ache for him. 

‘’You’re drunk. This wasn’t a good idea. Let’s get you back to your chamber.’’ You reached for his arm to help him up, but grabbed your wrist. ‘’Aegon…’’ you sighed.

He pulled you closer to him, but you remained standing. Aegon’s voice was barely a whisper, his words more a plea than a demand. ‘’It’s me you should marry, not my brother.’’ 

You pulled on your wrist, but his grip only tightened. ‘’Aegon, let go. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.’’ 

He shook his head, his eyes fixated on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. ‘’I know exactly what I’m saying. I…I love you. I always have. And I can’t bear the thought of you marrying him.’’ 

Your heart was racing in your chest. 

Despite the feud between your mothers, you and Aegon had always been close. He was there when you claimed your dragon, took the blame when you got caught stealing lemon cakes in the kitchen, and always invited you to dance at gatherings, even though he hated dancing. He even exchanged letters with you when you moved to Dragonstone, secretly writing back despite his terrible handwriting and his mother's interdiction. You were his favorite person, the only one he felt truly cared for him.

And now, he was sitting in your chamber, confessing his feelings to you out of pain and desperation.

You wanted to scream. 

At yourself for not recognizing his underlying feelings. At him for not saying those words sooner. At your mother and grandsire for arranging a betrothal with Aemond. He was closer to you in age, mayhaps it was the reason for their decision? And most of all, at the cruel twist of fate that had kept you blind to what was right in front of you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Thoughts swirled chaotically in your mind, overwhelming you. You needed time to think, time to process everything. 

But time wasn’t in your hands, it was ticking and passing fast, so you crashed your lips on Aegon’s. He brought you down to his lap, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed across your hips and thighs and everything he could get his hands on in a desperate attempt to bring you closer. You could taste the wine on his lips, the bitter alcohol still lingering in his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair as a moan left his throat, igniting the fire between two dragons.

Impatient, Aegon pulled at the laces of your nightgown while you discarded him of his undershirt and threw it on the floor. Your nightgown found the same fate, goosebumps rising across your skin from the cool air or the room. 

His hands skimmed along your sides, coming to rest on your hips as he rocked against you, his body betraying his need. The rough fabric of his breeches brushed against your bare cunt, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

Your lips moved from his lips to his jaw, trailing a path of kisses along his jawline and down to his neck. His breath caught in his throat as your lips and teeth found the sensitive spot between his collarbone and throat. Aegon let out a soft moan, his hands gripping your thighs tighter. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving small imprints that would surely turn into bruises come morning.

His hands continued to roam, exploring every inch of your body that he could reach. He moved his lips down to your chest, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your breasts. You arched your back in response, the feeling of his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched.

What you were doing was wrong and breaking many rules, but you couldn’t stop. It felt too good. 

Aegon pushed you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours as he found your lips again. His hands fumbled with the ties of his breeches, desperately trying to undo them while keeping the kiss going. A soft groan escaped him as he managed to push them down, freeing himself from the constricting material. 

The feeling of his bare skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His body was hot and demanding as he pressed himself closer to you. A gasp left your lips when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, surprised by how warm it felt. 

You gripped his shoulder as Aegon pushed himself inside, your walls closing around him in a snug grip. Aegon’s breath hitched from how tight you felt, his eyes closing briefly as he sank deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain as your body adjusted to him. 

When he started to move, you felt like he was splitting you in half…but in a good way. You clawed at his back, soft little sighs spilling from your lips as Aegon thrusted into you. 

Unfortunately, the pleasure didn’t last long. You were so wet and squeezing him too good that after only a few thrusts, Aegon spilled inside you. 

In his defense, he was drunk and not entirely in control of his cock. 

The sunlight coming through the large window woke you up. You turned away from the window and buried your face into your pillow, trying to fall back asleep, but your arm came into contact with something — someone. 

You opened your eyes, the late events of the night surfacing, and saw Aegon lying beside you. He was still fast asleep, his white hair tousled and messy. His face was relaxed, a stark contrast from his drunkenness. For a moment, you just watched him. He looked so peaceful and calm when he slept.

The light streamed over his face, illuminating the sharp planes and angles of his features. You reached out, gently brushing away a strand of hair from his forehead. 

He stirred at your touch, but didn’t open his eyes. ‘’What is it, Mother?’’ 

You chuckled softly, watching as Aegon stirred in his sleep. 

He mumbled again, shifting under the covers. His eyes still closed, he reached out blindly and brushed his fingers against your waist. The contact startled him, not expecting to find another body in his bed, and he opened his eyes. 

A mixture of embarrassment and confusion flickered across his face, remembering his drunk stumble into your chamber. 

‘’I’m sorry for last night,’’ Aegon apologized, his voice strained and hoarse because of how dry his mouth felt. ‘’I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?’’ 

You decided against mentioning his short sexual performance. ‘’More than usual? No.’’ 

He laughed, then groaned as his head pounded. 

‘’Aegon?’’ you said quietly. He hummed. ‘’Why didn’t you say you have feelings for me?’’ 

‘’Because I enjoy self-sabotaging my life.’’ 

You swatted his arm. 

‘’I need to speak to my mother,’’ you declared after a moment of silence. 

The hour was early, but she should be awake. 

You climbed out of bed, your naked body exposed in the bright light of day as you moved around your chamber. There was an ache between your legs, reminiscent of Aegon’s passage inside your intimate part. 

‘’I do not wish to go through the same suffering she endured in her first marriage.’’ You grabbed a dress from the wardrobe and dressed yourself. It was more difficult without the help of a handmaid. ‘’And I know exactly how to convince her to call off the betrothal. I broke my vows to Aemond, I let you take my maidenhood. They will have no choice but to let us wed.’’

—

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[aegoniidaily]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY as AEGON II TARGARYEN in HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 2.03

[gwaynesprincess]

Corruption - Chapter Two

Summary: You sneak out to the Street of Silk, unaware of the perils that wait for you there. Upon realizing that you are not in your chambers, your brothers decide to search for you. 

Content: NSFW, incest, attempted rape, groping, brothels, sex workers, depictions of sex acts, murder

Words: 3.2K

Note: I implore you to read the content warnings. Thank you to @darktrashsoulbear for being my beta! 💚

The day seemed to drag on forever. Finally, night fell and it was time for you to sneak out. After eating dinner, you told your mother that you had a headache and excused yourself to your chambers. Once you had closed the doors to your room, you quickly hurried over to your vanity, where you had stashed a shirt, a pair of trousers, a cap, and a pair of leather boots that you had procured earlier that day. These new clothes were rough, far more rough than the silken gowns that you were accustomed to. You quickly removed your dress, slip, and stockings, replacing them with the clothing of the smallfolk. You were careful to tuck your blonde locks into the cap, not wanting anyone to recognize you, for it would be scandalous if a princess were discovered in a brothel. 

Once you were confident that you could slip through the city unnoticed, you grabbed a small pouch of coins and crept over to your door. “Ser Rickard?” 

The knight stood on the other side of your doors, guarding your chambers, as he did every night. “Princess? What is the matter?” 

“I would like some lemon cakes,” you said lightly. “Could you please fetch me a plate?” 

Ser Rickard sighed. “Princess, that is not my charge.” 

“Please?” you begged, praying that the knight’s gentle affection for you would win out. “Please, Ser Rickard? Could you at least fetch a handmaiden who could bring me some?” 

He hesitated for a moment, then chuckled. “I suppose, Princess. I shall return in a moment.” 

“Thank you, Ser Rickard,” you said. You hoped that he would not be upset upon discovering your deception, but you would rather sneak away than order him to leave. You listened carefully, excitement swirling in your stomach as his footsteps faded. 

Once you were certain that he was gone, you quickly slipped out of your chambers, dashing down the corridor as the doors closed behind you. With any luck, you would have an easy time sneaking out of the Red Keep. You smiled as you hurried through the stone hallways, eager to discover the truth about your feelings for your brothers. 

–

When Aegon approached your chambers, he was surprised to discover that Ser Rickard Thorne was no longer standing outside of your room. He was also rather irritated to see Aemond also approaching. “Brother,” he said flatly, hoping that his tone conveyed his displeasure. 

Aemond hummed in response. “What brings you here, Aegon? ‘Tis no doubt the urge to defile our sister.” 

Aegon smirked. “Bold words coming from you. Mother may not be aware of your desires, but I know that you covet our sweet sister.” Aemond’s expression was perfectly still, almost as though it were carved from stone. Aegon had always secretly believed that a statue of his brother would be magnificent, though he would never tell a soul. 

“I came to check on her,” Aemond said coolly. “She fell ill at dinner.” 

Aegon rolled his eyes. “I am well aware, as I, too, am here to check on her.” He observed his brother, watching Aemond catch his meaning: both of them were there for the same reason, and they would both insist that reason was innocent even though it most certainly was not. 

Aemond fixed his brother with a cold look. ��Yet I do not trust your intentions with her.” 

Aegon snorted. “You may refrain from indulging in her because of your fucking honor, but I promise that I have my own reasons, and my resolve is as firm as yours.” Of course, his resolve was waning. He found himself wanting you more and more with each passing moment, and he needed something to temporarily satisfy himself. He was desperate to touch you, even if it would be innocent and not in the manner that he truly desired. But now, Aemond was getting in his way of even some small relief. 

To his surprise, his brother seized him and pinned him to the stone wall, anger marking his face. “And that,” Aemond hissed, “is exactly why I do not trust you. My resolve hangs by a thread.” 

Aegon giggled at his brother’s outrage. “It must be so difficult for you, struggling to maintain your proper air when all you desire is to bury your cock in our little sister’s cunt.” 

“You have no idea what I feel for her,” Aemond snarled. “It is beyond your comprehension. I want more than to fuck her, because I care for her in ways that you will never understand.” 

“You misjudge me, Brother,” Aegon spat. “You and every other person who lives, you all believe that I think only with my cock. I care for her as well, for she is the only pure being in this wretched world.” 

Aemond’s grip relaxed as a pained look spread across his face. “And neither of us will ever have her,” he said quietly, “for she will be married off to and defiled by some lord in order to ensure our family’s survival.” 

“‘Tis agony,” Aegon said lowly. “I desire her so, but I cannot bring myself to take her. I spend every waking moment thinking of her, desperate for any affection that she can bestow upon me, even if it be only platonic.” 

Aemond hummed, expressing that he shared the same feelings. “I know that she cannot give me what I yearn for, so I take comfort in doting on her instead. She is precious to me, even if she does not understand my twisted desires.” 

Aegon sighed. Speaking with his brother made him feel better and worse at the same time. At least someone shared his pain, but it was becoming borderline unbearable to exist without being able to tell you what he felt for you. He glanced at the doors to your chambers. “Perhaps we could merely check on her. Though I suppose she is likely either asleep or well aware that we are out here, squabbling like children.” 

Aemond smiled thinly, raising his fist and knocking gently on the wood. When there was no response, he frowned and tried again, more firmly this time. 

A thin mist of worry clouded Aegon’s mind as he also knocked. “Sister?” he called. 

No response. Aemond hummed darkly as he glanced up and down the corridor. “Ser Rickard ought to be here, yet he is not.” 

Aegon fiddled with the doors for a moment, then abandoned subtlety and opened them. He half expected Aemond to protest something about it being improper, but his younger brother entered your chambers without a word, clearly placing a higher value on your protection than on propriety. 

Your chambers were deserted, the dress and stockings that you had worn that day lying on the chair near your vanity. Aemond quickly approached them, tracing his fingers over the fabric. “Still warm,” he said lowly. “She has been here recently.” 

Aegon glanced at the screen where you usually changed your clothes. “And yet her sleeping gown is still here.” 

The brothers exchanged a look, then swiftly headed for the doors to your chambers. They did not know where you had gone, but they certainly intended to find out. 

–

Even from outside the brothel, you could hear an erotic slew of noises. Still, the sounds could not sufficiently prepare you for the sight that you were met with when you entered the establishment. Everywhere you looked, naked bodies writhed about, shamelessly embracing the pleasure that consumed them. 

Suddenly, a delicate hand landed on your shoulder. You turned quickly; in front of you, glancing at you through hooded eyes, was a woman barely clad in a skimpy silk gown. “May I be of service to you, my lord?” she asked lowly, her voice dripping with lust. Your eyes widened in surprise; she gasped, evidently recognizing you. “Apologies, Princess!” she said hurriedly. 

You shook your head quickly, desperate to keep your identity secret. “No!” you whispered. “No one may know that I am here!” 

She glanced around, her pale gray eyes twinkling as an amused smirk reached her lips. “Princess, this is hardly the place for a lady who wishes to be discreet. It is also certainly not the place for a princess.” 

Your face burned at her words. Perhaps your disguise was not as good as you had thought. But if you would not be able to discreetly observe the carnal actions of others, maybe she would be able to aid you. “There are things that I need to know,” you said nervously, “things which I do not understand.” 

She arched her brow at you, clearly understanding the meaning behind your words. “If that be your wish, Princess, then follow me.” 

You anxiously fiddled with your hands as you followed her through the pleasure house. All around you, there were incomprehensible things being done. You saw a woman on her knees, sucking a man’s cock as he pushed it down her throat. There was a man busily thrusting into a woman, her legs thrown over his shoulders in what must have been a painful position. Two men shared a woman, one busily fucking her cunt while the other took her arse. And finally, there was a woman writhing around, a man’s head buried between her thighs. You did not understand how these people knew to act like this, nor how they felt such evident pleasure, as it was etched on their faces as they screamed in bliss. 

Finally, the woman led you into a secluded corner of the brothel. She pulled a curtain back, revealing another woman, one who was clearly busy entertaining a young man. Your eyes were wide as you took in the way that she gently swished her hips, pulling the young man closer and closer to the embrace of pleasure. When she realized that she was being interrupted, she glanced in your direction. “Saera, I shall be with you shortly. This young man has paid well, and I intend to make the most of his time.” 

The woman next to you, Saera, took a step forwards, her ink-black hair a long curtain down to her waist. “Madame Sylvi, I’m afraid that it is urgent. We have company.” 

Madame Sylvi glanced at you again, realization striking her as she quickly dismounted the young man. “Apologies, Princess,” she said, picking up a robe to cover herself. “How may we be of service?” 

You stared at the young man, who was writhing about in apparent distress, his cock swollen and hard between his legs. You had seen a cock before, having grown up in the Red Keep, but it was different to see one now. He looked like he was in pain, and it reminded you of the way that you would ache between your legs if you spent too long alone with your brothers. 

Madame Sylvi followed your gaze to the young man. “Saera, see that he is taken care of.” Saera nodded, escorting him out of the room, leaving you alone with the madame. “What can I do for you, Princess?” You nervously fidgeted. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. You had no idea how to explain the situation, and what if your mother somehow found out that you were here? “Do you seek a lover?” The madame asked, gesturing for you to sit down. “I have several young men who could tend to your needs. Or women, if you prefer.” You recoiled at her suggestion; she laughed. “Or not.” 

“I do not want a lover,” you said stiffly. You knew that your maidenhead was extremely valuable, as your hand was coveted by several lords. “I-I do not know what I want.” 

She studied you, her gaze curious. “Do your brothers know that you are here?” 

“No!” you said quickly. “They cannot know!” 

She pursed her lips. “It is dangerous for you to be here alone. I cannot guarantee your safety, Princess. You ought to have asked them to accompany you here, as they both know their way around.” 

You blinked in surprise. You knew that Aegon frequented the Street of Silk, but Aemond? He was usually so reserved, always careful to be the perfect son, the dutiful contrast to Aegon’s indulgences. “Aemond comes here?” 

An unreadable look crossed the madame’s face. “They both frequent this establishment, although your eldest brother is known to visit other brothels as well.” She smiled thinly. “The eldest prince is known to favor bastards with pale hair, not unlike your own.” 

Your cheeks warmed at the thought. Was it possible that he was imagining that the whores he fucked were you? “I did not know,” you said, not meeting her gaze. 

“Your other brother stares at them as well, though he does not partake,” she continued. “But his…desires…are far different than would be expected.” 

You frowned. “What does that mean?” 

She shook her head. “The secrets of my trade are not to be freely shared, even with you, Princess.” She smiled thinly. “All that you need to know is that both of your brothers are skilled lovers, though their unique taste for affection would discourage many.” 

A strange feeling settled in your stomach at the thought of your brothers engaging in carnal acts with women. What did she mean when she said that they are skilled? Wasn’t intercourse supposed to be dreadfully painful for the woman? Helaena’s fear had led her to become a septa, and you were well aware of your mother’s dislike of lying in her marital bed. You squeezed your legs together, attempting to dissuade the ache that was beginning to settle between your thighs. “I do not understand,” you said, shame burning your cheeks as you met Madame Sylvi’s gaze. “When you say that my brothers are skilled, what does that mean? Do they reproduce successfully?” Perhaps that was what she meant, that both of your brothers were highly capable of impregnating women. 

A smile formed on the madame’s lips. “Oh, you innocent thing. Do you not know what it is to be satisfied? Are you incapable of tending to the ache between your thighs?” You gasped in surprise. How did she know? She laughed. “And you crave your brothers, do you not?” Shame burned your cheeks as you slowly nodded. “Though the appeal of your Targaryen customs is lost on me, I do imagine that you will soon be extremely well-satisfied.” 

Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back, revealing Saera once again. “Madame Sylvi, they are here. Both of them.” 

The madame smiled at you. “Perhaps you will be satisfied even sooner than I had anticipated.” She rose and began to follow Saera out of the room, turning to close the curtain. “Wait here, Princess.” 

Anticipation buzzed inside of you. Were your brothers here? Were they going to tend to the horrible ache between your thighs, which was worsening with every passing minute? You clenched your legs again as you stared at the walls, which were covered in murals depicting various sinful acts. In one, a man’s head was buried between a woman’s thighs. Was he kissing her down there? What in the Seven Hells could be pleasurable about that? 

The curtain opened with a swish, and you turned, eager to see your brothers. But it was not your brothers who stood there, nor was it Madame Sylvi or Saera. 

“What do we have here?” the man slurred, smelling strongly of wine. “A little princess, all lost and alone?” He stumbled towards you, drunkenly clambering on top of you. 

You quickly pushed him away, scrambling to the edge of the bed. “Please, do not touch me.” 

Fear began to seep into your heart as he laughed. “And who will stop me?” He grabbed your leg, his grip bruising, and dragged you towards him. You tried to kick him, only for him to easily bat your foot away and lie down on top of you, his weight crushing you as you froze in terror. “Princess’ maidenhead, perhaps the most valuable cunt in the Realm,” he mused, burying his face in your neck and licking your skin. 

Your senses came rushing back to you at the gross sensation of his tongue and you screamed, thrashing about and desperately trying to get him off of you. “Please!” you sobbed. “Please, do not hurt me!” 

Tears spilled out of your eyes as he laughed cruelly, bringing a hand to your chest and roughly groping your breasts. “Nobody will hear you scream, Princess.” You couldn’t breathe, nor could you think. You desperately needed him to stop touching you, but he was far stronger than you were. You screamed again; he clamped one hand over your mouth as the other began to work the laces of your trousers. “Shut the fuck up,” he spat; you bit his hand. He snarled in pain, then harshly smacked you across the face. “You fucking whore.” 

Suddenly, the curtains were wrenched open. You burst into sobs at the sight of Aegon and Aemond, terrified that they would be angry with you. The man scrambled off of you, but you already knew that any apology he could conjure up would be futile. You tearfully crawled away from him, whimpering as Aegon hurried to your side. “Fucking kill him,” your brother snarled, pulling you into his arms as you sobbed. “Oh, sweet sister,” he whispered, his tone far gentler as he slowly pulled off your cap and began to stroke your hair. 

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, desperately clutching at Aegon’s doublet. “I’m so sorry.” 

He gently shushed you, rocking your trembling body. “‘Tis alright, for you are safe now. All is well.” 

Aemond appeared on your other side, hesitantly taking your hand. “Aegon is right,” he said quietly. “You are safe now. Nothing bad will happen to you, so long as you are with us.” 

You nodded slowly, sniffling and squeezing Aemond’s hand, which was wet and sticky. You glanced at it, confused, then gasped when you realized that it was coated in blood. “Aemond, are you hurt?” you asked, panic returning to you. 

He smiled thinly. “No. But ‘tis sweet of you to ask.” 

You glanced over his shoulder, a strange sense of peace settling over you when you saw the lifeless, bloody remains of the other man. “You killed him for me,” you said, your voice faint. 

Aemond gently cupped your face in his large hands. “Oh, sweet sister. For you, I would do much more than kill a man.” He glanced at Aegon, then back to you. “We both would.” 

A lovely warm feeling bloomed in your chest at his words. Your brothers cared deeply for you, that much was evident. You hoped that they also desired you, as you were now quite confident that you desperately longed for them to do horribly sinful things to you. You had always loved them as your brothers, but now, as Aegon picked you up and carried you out of the brothel with Aemond at his side, hand on the hilt of his sword, you wondered if your affection had always been a repressed form of depraved adoration.

[mylittlepimp]

[justmarisue]

Querido 🥺💔

"People will pity you. Either behind your back, or in your presence. And they will stare at you... or turn away. And they will underestimate you." — HOUSE OF THE DRAGON 02.06

[koumouby]

The Greens Dragon team!

[damn-stark]

Chapter 30 No woman no cry

Chapter 30 of Moonlight

A/N- Sweaty eyes that’s all it is :)

Warning- talks of pregnancy and labor, ANGST!!, swearing, violence, fire, blood, and DEATH. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 520-534

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

There exists a serene silence where only your soft breaths, and the sound of waves rolling over the sand fill whatever room you are in.

A much crueler chill seems to be your companion, but a light feathered touch of warmth does seem to exist dancing over your face and it makes you squint as your eyes flutter open.

Yet as gentle as that touch is on your face, when you open your eyes a stinging pain hits you as the sun burns your eyes before you give them relief as you shield them from the beaming sunlight.

“Cregan?” You call out softly and then groan as a sharp wave of pain hits your head and your chest, reminding you at that moment of the injuries you sustained and put you in a state of limbo, and now on this bed and in this…stone chamber?

Did they take the keep at Tumbleton? Is this where you are?

“Ser Cane?” You call out next since Cregan is probably attending to other matters.

However, your sworn protector doesn’t respond by walking in or speaking. There’s a continued silence where only the sound of distant waves lingers in your chambers. Which is why you sit up and only get welcomed with a pounding headache.

“Damn,” you hiss and lift your hand to hover your palm over where it hurts, feeling at that moment bandages wrapped around your head before you finally feel the bandages around your chest.

“Ser Cane?” You call out and glance at the end table to search for water, but alas there’s not even a candle. “Ser Cane?”

You drag yourself to the edge of the bed and notice your gown before you notice that someone took the time to clean all the blood off your hands.

It must’ve been Cregan. He must be so worried.

“Ser Cane?” You call out one more time and drop your hand on your belly which seems to be lower than usual, which means the twins should be coming soon.

“Add—” you cut yourself off as you remember that Addam won’t be able to respond to your calls anymore because he’s…dead…

You sigh and rub your eyes before you lift your head and avoid crying, but also finally come to recognize where you are. You try to deny it. You must be dreaming—You can’t be in your chambers at Dragonstone.

How could you be at them?

This must be a dream! You still must be in limbo, you can’t be here—unless your mother is here? How many days have passed since the second battle at Tumbleton?

Were you really unconscious for so long that you arrived at Dragonstone without knowing?

“Ser Cane?” You call out with panic and desperation replacing your patience and grogginess, and proceed to slip on some slippers before you push yourself off the bed and rush to the door.

Albeit when you try to open the door, you can’t, it seems to be locked.

“Ser Cane?” You call out. “Hello? Who is out there? Please open the door.”

You press your ear against the door and drift your eyes to the floor, catching shadows move, and hearing feet shuffle before you start to hear them recede.

“Hello?” You call out louder and with desperation rising. “Can you open the door and tell Cregan or The Queen to come? Please.”

You try to open the door, but again you’re met by the fact that it’s locked, so you have the urge to turn to the balcony to find a way out through there, but then the thought of why sets in.

Why should you find a way out? This is your home and your mother must be here. You don’t have to worry. You’ll be fine, the door is just locked for precaution. After all, your mother is being paranoid about not knowing who to trust, so the door is locked for your own safety.

“Okay,” you sigh and turn away with your hands clasped before you go to your wardrobe and change out of the gown, finding comfort in a purple and gold gown that has the skirts layers shaped like fins on a seahorse, and a golden corset decorated with beautiful designs made of sheets of gold.

It’s truly an impressive gown, and one you know Cregan will drool over, so you feel even more giddy wearing it—which reminds you of the wolf brooch Cregan gave you.

However, when you search for it you can’t find it amongst your things or on any surface. Maybe it fell off during battle or some moment thereafter?

You’ll have to ask, and if you did lose it then you’ll ask Cregan to give you a ring with the sigil on it, or a nice pendant. It’ll be easier to wear it then.

Nonetheless, you sit on the edge of the bed and look out of the window to bask in the sun's warmth, finding comfort in the sound of waves.

Besides, all the bad that’s happened as of late, you still find comfort in the sound of the sea, and it brings you joy to know you’re close. Being in those Wetlands for as long as you were was starting to make you feel as gloomy as a rainy day.

If only it was summer, you would be out lying on the sand or in the water. Alas, it’s winter and the water would surely make you freeze to death.

Shame.

Nevertheless, while you’re soaking in the sunbeams, keys finally jingle outside of your door before you hear the lock click and a knock proceed to a rap on your door.

“Come in,” you greet the visitor and stand from the bed to walk toward the door.

However, as the door opens and you get close, you come to an immediate stop when your eyes fall on a man you thought was long gone—Lord Larys Strong.

“Wh-“ you gasp and step back as you quickly scan the room in search of your sword. When you don’t find it you take a step back and tilt your head down to glower at him.

“Princess,” Lord Larys greets and bows his head, making your pinched eyebrows twitch as they crease deeper in your silence.

“I am so very glad you have awoken and seem to take well to your current injuries. The servants weren’t sure if you would wake.”

Servants?

“Where’s my mother?” You deadpan and start to also think about your dragon and whether she brought you here out of instinct, or they found you—Then again Cregan was so close when you last saw him on that battlefield, how did you end up here?

“Oh,” Lord Larys mouths before he gently shakes his head. “I am not sure. I heard she escaped Kings Landing after a riot. What a shame, she lost the most special gem just as she had it in her possession.”

If he doesn’t know then—

No, it can’t be!

“Where’s my dragon? How did you find me?”

Is Cregan here?

“Your dragon,” Larys says and glances outside and watches a bird fly past the balcony window. “She dropped you off in the sand. One of the guards saw you and went to your rescue. They tried to capture your dragon, but she eluded capture and flew back where she had come from.”

You blink with surprise yet find yourself letting out a relieved sigh because she’s not in the clutches of the enemy.

“Dragons truly are marvelous beasts,” he rambles and meets your gaze. “She must have thought you would be safe here, but, alas,” he sighs and flashes you a smirk. A smirk! Out of all things he smirks at you because he knows you don’t have the upper hand now.

What a little cunt.

“…it was too late when she tried to take you back,” he whispers before he digs in his pocket and pulls something out—“His Grace is ready for his audience with you,” he reveals what you had been trying to deny. Aegon is here. Aegon is still alive. He didn’t die in some ditch like you had hoped. The little bastard is still alive! And your mother…she must not know or else she would have not left Kings Landing. Damn it! Damn it!

“You had this with you when we found you,” Larys says and opens his hand to show you the wolf brooch Cregan had given you.

“I thought you would want it back.”

You continue to pierce your glare into him for a moment longer before you look at the brooch and slowly walk toward him to snatch it from his grasp.

“Are you ready?” He makes sure to ask, making you scoff.

“Do I even have an option?” You quip and he doesn’t answer you, instead, he turns and leads the way out. With no other choice you drag your feet after him and follow him all the way to the main hall where whether you like it or not, your breath catches when you see Aegon.

He sits at the other end of the hall on a wooden chair with wheels, a blanket over his legs, and a dull yet narrowed look that does reflect a glimmer when he sees you walk past the doors and stop just under the beam of sun that shines in the hall.

“You stand in the presence of King Aegon of House Targaryen, the Second of His Name, Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. And Rightful Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” A guard announces loudly near your ear, making your glower even more fierce.

“You’ve awoken!” Aegon interjects loudly so his voice travels down the hall. “I’m glad.”

You draw out a deep breath and continue to trudge forward, but never with your head down. You keep your head high and your nose pointed to the air. When you get close that’s all you do, get close, you never close the gap to the point you can hear each other's whispers. You stay under the sunbeam that reflects through the windows on the high ceilings and scowl.

“You,” you mutter and look at him up and down (which doesn’t take long as he’s seated on that wooden chair), and notice that he seems to sport more burn scars than before, and his legs that he keeps under a blanket are bent in a pretty uncomfortable manner. “…look more awful than before,” you say bluntly and catch his lips twitching to a frown.

However, a sinister look then makes his dull eyes glimmer.

“I recently got into a dragon battle with your cousin…Rhaena—no,” he chuckles and his malice then shows on his lips that slowly curl to a smirk as he sees your eyes lose the sun’s twinkling glow as your head slowly falls with your demeanor. “Baela,” he huffs. “Her dragon is dead and she is in a dungeon knowing what it feels like to burn.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and feel your breath catch as your heart skips a beat in your worry. Only making Aegon that more cocky.

“And you,” you mutter and slowly drag your eyes up with a fire slowly burning within them. “Did you burn again? It looks like it. You look even more horrifying to look at. At least Baela will have a menacing charm to her, but you,” you click your tongue and force a snicker before you suck in your cheeks to gather a ball of spit and hurl it at his feet.

Aegon’s eyes quickly fall on your ball of spit and his lips curl while his nose scrunches in disgust as well as frustration.

A guard standing nearby lunges forward and from the corner of your eyes you see him lift his hand in reaction to your “disrespect”.

Albeit Aegon then lifts his hand to motion the guard to stop, and he immediately does so before he can swing his hand over your face.

“As traitorous and disrespectful as she may be, she is still your Princess, and carrying my brother's children,” Aegon says and catches you by surprise, but still not enough to warrant a thanks or any kind of reaction.

“What do you want, Aegon?” You press impatiently.

Said man scoffs as he looks away from the guard and then sighs deeply before he gives you a response. “I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay. It seems you sustained quite a few concerning injuries, so I was just making sure you were okay.”

You huff and he slowly lolls his head to the side.

“I also do have a proposal,” he adds and piques your interest. “After the twins are born you are of no use to me, so I will kill you alongside your mother and your brother, and keep my brother's children so my mother can raise them, and Aerion can be my heir. But you,” he pauses and clicks his tongue to mock you.

“However, you may keep your life if and only if you marry me,” he throws out a rather daring offer. One that shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but it did because it’s quite ballsy.

“You will be Queen, and we will show the realm that we are a united front. There will be peace—or so Larys says,” he mutters and glances at the man before looking back at you with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“No,” you deadpan before you flash him a mischievous smirk. “I am betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark,” you announce, making Lord Larys shift where he stands, and causing Aegon to lose that stupid mischievous look and instead make his face harden.

“Very well,” he grumbles and sits up straight. “So you chose death. I did not want to marry you anyway.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Larys interjects. “With the Princess betrothed to Lord Stark it will not be wise killing her, nor marrying her now. Whichever choice you go with would lead Lord Stark and his army to retaliate and possibly add more fuel to a war you want to end.”

Your smirk deepens as your invincibility is now revealed, leaving him with you as a hostage, but still unable to kill you or touch you in any way.

“So I hold you, hostage, have him bend the knee, swear his loyalty, and give his army to me,” Aegon is quick to come up with an alternative you had already started to think about before he could even form the first thought. “Thank you. You have now turned your mother's greatest ally against her.”

You don’t falter or show weakness because you know Cregan. He won’t fall under pressure, he will keep fighting because no matter what, you will be protected because of him.

Aegon doesn’t realize all of that, but he sees your smirk and his face only twists with more frustration.

“Take her and bring her back when her mother arrives to shore. She can watch her die instead.”

This time your face falls. He hits you right in your weak spot and he knows it because he counters the fear that paints your face with cockiness that he displays on his face the moment you’re walked out of the room as if showing you he had the last laugh.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

How? How?

Without Astraea how can you leave this damned place to save your mother?

There’s no candle lit to burn the door down. There’s not even a fire in your fireplace and that’s probably due to the fact that Aegon doesn’t want you to use fire against him. And without any weapons how can you get out?

You pace in your chambers watching the moon rise and slowly spin around the earth as time passes bit by bit without any kind of nudge on what to do.

Escaping out the window is impossible, there's nothing to grab onto and it’s too high off the ground to jump…

Then again even if you find a way out how do you find her? You know she’s heading to Dragonstone, but from which way?

Then again why should that truly matter in the grand scheme of things? You need to save her one way or another and you’ll scour the earth to find her to keep her away from here. Even if it means…having to give your own life.

Yet what do you do?

You let out a frustrated breath and throw yourself on your bed, feeling at that moment the twins starting to move inside you.

“Yes I should sleep, but I need to…” you trail off and sit up whilst you press your hand on your belly. “Thank you,” you whisper down toward your belly before you run over to grab your goblet of water, and return to the side of the bed to spill the water on the ground. After that, you hide the goblet under the bed and sit back down to press your hands on your legs, and lean down to start crying out in pain.

“Help…” you feign pain to grab the attention of the guards outside. “I need help!” You yell out and moan as if you were in labor. “Please!” You bellow and let out another sharp cry.

When you go quiet for a second you strain your ear and hear the guards shuffling behind your door, so you yell again. “Please! I need help!”

The lock clicks before the door flies open and two guards rush in with panicked wide-eyed looks on their faces.

“Princess?” They call out cautiously as if you were something they were frightened of.

“The twins,” you say between pants as you clutch onto your belly. “I think they’re coming,” you lie and glance up, catching them looking at each other helplessly, which only excites you more.

“Get the maester or anyone who can help me!” You sneer before you cry out again to stress them out further.

“Okay—okay,” one guard breathes out as if he’s the one going to give birth. “We’ll be right back!”

Your eyes widen out of panic and before they can leave you throw your head up and blurt. “Can one of you stay? I don’t want to be alone.”

You bat your eyelashes and take quick and heavy breaths to feign being in distress and get them to pity you, because if they both leave then they’ll lock the door again, and you can’t let them bring the help you say you need or else you won’t be able to get out. Thus you feign innocence.

And luckily they believe you. One guard stays while the other one leaves, but you don’t stop pretending. You keep letting out fake sounds of pain to let the guard that left your chambers put some good distance between here and there, whilst also mentally laughing at the guard who stayed as he seems extremely uncomfortable by staying with you while you’re “in labor”.

“Could,” you pause and pant. “Could you please bring me some water?”

The guard avoids eye contact and nods stiffly before he turns and starts to walk away toward your pitcher of water. And it’s when he’s giving you his back that you swipe one of your shoes with a pointed heel off the ground, and push yourself to your feet without any struggle whatsoever.

You then stretch your neck from side to side after having it hanging for so long before you proceed to quietly stalk after him with an almost predatory glare burning through the back of his neck, and a wicked smirk curling on your lip. And luckily the guard is so caught up in his own discomfort and disgust that he keeps his attention locked on the pitcher across the room—he doesn’t even notice that you stopped complaining.

He doesn’t hear you walking toward him, nor does he feel any kind of burning on the back of his neck. He keeps his back facing you so when you finally catch up to him you raise the heel in your hand and swing down hard to dig the tip of the heel in his neck.

The man tries to yell out, but with the heel impaled on the side of his neck, all he does is gurgle and slowly turn around to face you.

“<Idiot.>” You remark in Valyrian before you mock his choking noises and snicker before you take his sword and give him the mercy of death by impaling his throat.

When he hits the ground you take your shoe out of his neck and then walk back to the side of the bed to grab the other shoe and quickly slide them on before you walk to the door.

Once you see that the ghost is clear you turn down the opposite hall the other guard took and instead try to escape through the side of the castle that leads to the hills that sit beside your home.

You don’t try to be too fast so as to be careful and stay discreet, but you also try not to be too slow and risk getting caught by someone. This was once your home, this castle was run by your mother, and the servants and guards were all loyal to your mother and your family, but since Aegon is here and spreading fear you don’t know if they can be trusted, so you stay in the shadows while also listening out for any potential danger.

You’re so focused on not being caught in fact that when you hear the echoes of the heels of someone’s shoes hitting the ground you fail to locate exactly where it’s coming from. You just quickly try to slip around a corner to hide, but that’s when you bump into a servant.

“Princess,” the servant woman gasps at the same time you let out a startled breath of air. She then looks down at your bloody hands for a second before bouncing her gaze to the bloody sword in your hand, and then lastly to your face, catching your surprise slowly starting to slip away and be replaced by something cold and threatening.

“You—”

“Not that way,” the servant cuts you off just as you were going to threaten her so you didn’t have to kill her. “Follow me you can take the servant corridors,” she reveals and then snatches your hand from your side to pull you with her down the corridor.

“You will take the stairs all the way down until you reach the caves. After that follow the lights all the way out to the loading docks. You will find a small ship there. You use it and leave.” She presses as she digs her fingers on the back of your hand.

“Okay, okay,” you say breathlessly as you follow her at her pace to not slip from her grasp and fall behind. “But…why risk your life? Aegon will have you killed when he finds out you helped me.”

The servant woman peers back and with a twinkle in her eyes, she shakes her head. “I would die for my Queen. I serve only her. Therefore I serve you.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and when you see that she’s not being deceitful you offer her a small but proud smile. “Thank you then,” you offer and wish you could do more but that’s all you can give her. Your gratitude. “My friend.”

The lady offers you a small nod before she looks ahead and quickens her pace to drag you with her down corridor after corridor until you reach a secret door that she opens for you.

“Through there, my Princess,” the servant lets you know as she points to the corridor that leads to a spiral staircase. “That will take you down.”

You glance at your escape and then look back at her with a worried look peeking through. “Okay,” you breathe out. “Thank you once again and be safe,” you offer her one more time whilst she hands you a torch from the wall.

“I would do it again,” she says softly, making your breath hitch and a soft smile flash on your lips that you offer her before you turn around swiftly and walk in the passageway.

Once the servant closes the door behind you, you then turn to look down and try to locate your exit, but as you look down the long spiral staircase you gulp as all you see is a dark abyss that only grows deeper the longer you stare at it.

“Okay,” you say as you draw out a deep breath. “Here we go.”

You glance back at the door one more time and draw in another deep breath. This time though you gain confidence and a drive that makes your heart skip a beat. All because of the servant woman who risked her life to give you a chance to escape.

There was no question or bargaining. She risked her life for you, and you won’t waste it. You will reach that boat and find your mother to prevent her from reaching Dragonstone to save her and the rest of your family that she’s clinging onto.

You won’t fail her. Not today.

Thus with those thoughts running through your head, a spike of energy travels through your blood and hits your heart, making it jolt before it starts to race as you grow eager and determined beyond measure.

Now you know you shouldn’t go past any pace beyond a walk down the wooden staircase, but you don’t care. You could break through a wooden step, skip one in particular, or almost trip and you wouldn't care. All that occupies your mind is saving your mother, so you run and run as fast as you can down the stairs.

It’s true you run out of breath fast, so you’re heaving and panting before you can even get halfway, but you don’t care. You keep pressing as all you see is her. Her eyes. Her soft golden-silver hair. Her pain, grief, and tears. Her joy and her smile. And every single memory you have stored inside your head.

You see her. The one you cherish above all else, even life itself, and all you can do is run.

When you reach the cave, there’s no light; not even on the walls. There’s darkness and the sound of rain—which by the way, when did it start raining? Has it been raining all night? You’ve been so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice.

Regardless, you hear the sound of the rain as it falls outside and brings darkness, but not discouragement because with your torch you can make out the path that leads outside and that’s enough to know that you’re closer to your destination now. You won’t reach the end until you reach your mother, but you’re close and that thought makes you take a deep breath and start moving your legs again.

At the very first second, you don’t start off fast. You take some time to pick up speed considering what’s weighing you down and the exhaustion that brings you, but you push through it. Even if the flames on the torch die out you keep going. Even if your lungs hurt. Even if your legs and every muscle in your body scream to stop, you continue pushing forward. You speed walk before you jog, and jog before you run and run and run down that cave until the weight of heavy rain falls over you and a dim natural light bombards your eyes.

“Okay, okay,” you say between pants and squint your eyes to strain your vision so you can look through the cover of night and the shadows that the rain clouds bring.

At first, as you panic through your exhaustion, you can’t make out any boat. It terrifies you because that would bring a setback, but alas, you see the boat the servant told you about and you don’t linger back any longer. You quickly make your way to the boat and carefully climb onboard.

The waves are calmer thanks to the rain, but that does mean you have to fucking row the boat to move. And you’re already under so much strain! But you…push through and manage to get away from the dock and direct yourself to the mainland.

You can figure out where to go from there. As for now maybe you can catch your breath…

Breathe…as you row.

Breathe.

Breathe.

You close your eyes and relax your body.

Breathe.

Alas, when you’ve put some distance between you and the dock, you come across the harbor just below the Dragonmont and notice a strange Braavosi ship called the “Violande”.

Is it Aegon’s ship, you wonder at first before it hits you that it's your mother's ship when you see a Queensguard disembarking the ship—That’s where your mother came on.

That’s her!

“No, no,” you whisper and hastily stand at your feet.

If you row to the harbor you’ll take forever to get there. Without the help of the wind, you have no support.

You have to swim. No thought about it!

With that, in the front of your mind, you drop the sword on the boat and then dive into the cold water, and gasp loudly when you resurface like a bobbing apple as the cold water feels like falling in cold and wet piles of snow.

The cold embrace makes you want to find a way back on the boat, but you have to swim and keep pushing forward.

So you do. With that same adrenaline picking up in your veins you push forward. You don’t think about the possibility of your mother already reaching the gates. You can’t or else you’ll panic and be discouraged, so once again you think about reaching her, and that’s like a triple shot of adrenaline that helps you swim as fast as your body can muster.

Once you finally get out of the cold icy water you draw in a deep shaky breath and feel the bitterness nip at your skin, threatening to drive you someplace warm, but you turn toward Dragonstone, the place you had managed to escape, and run.

The breeze that runs past you drives some water drops off your body, but then sheets of rain just pile on, making you feel like you’re getting slapped in the face again and again. And it hurts. It hurts so much, and the clothes on your back are so heavy now that it makes everything worse. You even start to cry, but you keep running.

You keep pressing forward. For your mother! For your brother, Aegon! For your son, Aerion! And everyone you lost so your mother could win this war! You run and run!

Until finally like a glorious light you see her in between the group she came with and the large host that greeted her. A host loyal to Aegon…

“Mother!” You bellow through the rain, making the party stop in their tracks, and making the woman you called out to turn and find your eyes.

Even though it’s pouring and that obscures your vision you find each other, and you reflect the panic on your face before you yell again. “Mother! Flee!”

You don’t stop there, you can’t. Words are not enough, so you start running again. You break through barriers of space to reach her and try to get her out of there. You’re so close. With every step you take on that wet ground, you get closer to her, whilst she steps away from her spot and starts to part the crowd as she attempts to meet up with you halfway out of concern.

Alas before you can reach her, before you get close to getting her out, a body slams into you, and arms hurl around you to bring you to a sudden stop.

As you look over you notice that it was one of the many guards that were probably sent to welcome your mother.

The man is a traitor and loyal to Aegon, but you don’t need to share that with your mother because the moment you were caught and your eyes fell on the guard, chaos was unleashed.

Some men from the host that were meant to greet your mother, turn around and swing their swords at the Queensguard.

You don’t watch the battle though, you know that three Queensguards cannot compete against a host of forty men strong; no matter how skilled they are. That’s why you slap your hand on the man who has you captive and dig your nails into his face to drag them down, causing him to yelp out and let go of you to hold his face and stumble away.

“Mother!” You call out and move your legs toward her with one goal in mind; getting her away.

Luckily she sees that goal clearly painted in your eyes because she shares that same dire goal, so she yells out your name and while her men are fighting and falling, she motions her handmaidens and Vanessa to follow her to try and reach you. After all, Ser Jason is with her. He could help her strike down anyone trying to stop her. He could be the very person who could help you escape Dragonstone and live another day.

However, while your mother and you are focused on reaching one another, you fail to see his conflict brewing within him.

It’s true there should be no doubt running in his mind. Ser Cane Clegane would have not thought twice about trying to help the Queen, your son, Aegon, and you escape. He would given his life for you, but no matter how hard Ser Jason is trying to be that way. No matter how hard he’s tried to change his cowardly ways; seeing two men take out two Queensguard, and seeing the only Queensgaurd knight left kill two men before dying suit gives Ser Jason no motive.

The Bastard Knight sees that there’s no possible way to find an escape. He sees men coming after him too after having killed the Queensguard, and he can’t be everything his father was. He was not even half the man Prince Daemon Targaryen was, so Ser Jason raises his sword and steps forward to get in between you and your mother, leading you to believe that he is finally stepping up to aid in your escape. Yet The Bastard Knight then turns on his heels and points the sword to your belly, causing you to come to a skidding stop, and forcing your mother to stop out of fear he’d hurt you and her unborn grandchildren.

“What?” You ask breathlessly as you’re hit with disbelief and look at him with your lips parted, and your eyes slowly widening in shock and filling to the brim with tears of betrayal.

“Take another step and I will impale her,” Ser Jason threatens as he averts your gaze and looks over at your mother slowly contorting her face to show her anger and nothing else.

“Traitorous cunt,” she sneers and glares at him with a pointed glare whilst the host of guards start to surround you, closing the last gap to escape and returning you to Aegon’s grasp once again.

“Mother,” you call out in a broken voice, and immediately gain her attention and look that breaks away from her anger to display a softness—“Forgive me. I—”

Before you can finish, men grab your mother's arms and forcefully turn her away, forcing your next words to go unspoken and unheard.

“Walk, Your Grace,” the men spat at her mockingly.

“You picked the right choice, son,” Ser Alfred Broome praises Ser Jason. “Nevertheless, you understand why we have to take your sword? Just for now of course.”

Ser Jason glances at you with a hint of panic in his eyes, but you refuse to look at him anymore. You rip your eyes away and instead let your eyes fall on your greatest friend and handmaiden, Vanessa.

She also finds you amid the chaos and pushes your son, Aerion, in the air so you can see him and see that he’s bigger, but okay and unaware of what’s transcending—perhaps that’s the best gift an infant has, being able to be unaware of the chaos that brings adults and older children so much painful distress.

When he’s older and you ask him what he remembers he will most likely say nothing. He probably won’t remember his father or how much he loved him, he’ll only know him by the words that come out of your mouth, and that’s all. He probably won’t remember a thing of his life past a certain age and you’re thankful for that. Can you say the same for your brother Aegon?

It’s hard to say. He’s young but is he old enough to cling onto some of the worst memories of his life?

It’s hard to tell. If he lives, only time will tell.

Until then what other option do you have now but to let yourself be dragged back to the castle and past the rotting bodies of Maester Gerardys, and Ser Robert Quince hanging from the battlements of the gatehouse?

Seeing their dead bodies only worked to clarify that this was not some nightmare your mother could wake from. This is real, she got betrayed at her own ancestral home and now you, her son Aegon, her grandchild Aerion, and her are getting dragged toward the castle by traitors all loyal to none other than the slippery cockroach that is her half-brother Aegon. There’s no doubt about it because all the family that was against her is already dead except for him.

And that assumption only gets proven true when you reach the castle ward and come face to face with Aegon on a balcony unable to stand up or move. He’s bound to the same wooden chair as before and he carries the same dull look in his eyes that do welcome a sinister gleam once he sets his eyes on none other than his greatest foe and eldest sister, your mother, Rhaenyra, for the first time in a long time.

“Sister,” Aegon calls coldly, but with a hint of cockiness as he now has all the control and all the power over her that he didn’t have before.

Nevertheless, when your mother looks away from Sunfyre lying on the ground of the courtyard, she never shows defeat. She raises her head and points her nose in the air just like you tend to do before responding coldly and spitefully.

“Dear Brother, I had hoped that you were dead.”

Aegon scoffs. “After you,” he says with a twitch on the corner of his lips. “You are the elder.”

Your mother huffs, feigning some humor before she rebuttals. “I am pleased to know that you remember that.”

Aegon answers with silence and then turns his attention to you and his eyes glimmer, but not with a hint of malice, but smugness. “Back again? Here I thought you were smart. That’s all people say,” he mutters and rolls his eyes. “What an incredible hero The Blood Dragon is.” He scoffs. “If they could see their Blood Dragon now.”

He shoots you a smirk and you just raise your chin and glance over at his dragon Sunfyre to note that he is not even half the dragon he used to be. He now sports new raw scars that accompany the old ones, and one of his wings sticks out at a weird angle. He only has his beauty intact, but what is that worth?

Nothing, you know that and Aegon knows that too, so you look at his dragon with a teasing smirk and then look back at Aegon so he knows that you think less of him and his broken dragon.

And when he sees your reaction his smirk falls, letting your mother slip in to interject loudly and with a ferocity that cannot be diminished. “It would seem we are your prisoners…but do not think that you will hold us long. My leal lords will find us.”

“If they search the seven hells, mayhaps,” Aegon mutters before he drags his eyes away and offers a small nod that sends men after you to keep you where you are, but makes men pull your mother, her handmaidens, and your brother to the side, while Vanessa and Aerion are dragged toward him.

“Aegon,” you now call with a shift in your tone. Rather than trying to sound unaffected, you sound desperate. “Aegon, please,” you beg even though you know his plans for your children.

“Shut up,” he throws out. “You know what will happen to him. He’s now my heir so I will keep him by my side until I return to King’s Landing, while you…” he trails off and leans forward in his seat as best as his broken body can let him.

“I thought about it,” he continues and slowly drifts his eyes to your mother. “I do not care that you are betrothed to Cregan Stark. How will he know that you did not die due to your wounds from battle, hm?”

You blink in disbelief while a horrified breath escapes you. All while your mother's face loses all its color. The defiance she proudly held falls without a fight, and she shows an agonizing fear only a mother about to lose their child knows.

“Ser Alfred,” Aegon calls out, and the man that was called stomps toward you, causing the man holding you in place to force you to your knees.

“Move boy,” Ser Alfred tells Ser Jason, but you don’t see his hesitation as he starts to realize what’s about to happen because you realize the cold truth; you’re about to die, and you don’t want to die. Not like this, not yet. You want to meet your twins, you want to raise your children. You want to live…

You don’t want to die…

“Mama,” your voice quivers as you call out to her helplessly.

And even though she was hurt and angry that you had left her again to chase after Aemond, that grudge is long forgotten. It was long forgotten the moment she saw you try and come to her rescue like a warrior only heard about in stories of past heroes. Besides, how can she be angry while you look at her like a helpless little girl searching for her mother's consolation and help?

“Aegon,” she cries out desperately before Ser Alfred can get his sword out of his sheath, and tries to press forward, but she’s yanked back by the guards. “Please…please, don’t hurt her. Please,” she begs on behalf of not just her child, but her firstborn. The child she let sleep on her bed even against the wetnurses and handmaidens’ wishes because you were such a sick child, and the only way Rhaenyra could sleep at night was to have you next to her to hear you breathe and help the moment you needed it.

“She’s my daughter. My only daughter,” she tries to argue in her defense while also trying to touch any inkling of his heart. “She’s my firstborn, she’s mine,” her voice cracks as what’s left of her withered heart aches for you, for the life of the only companion she had while her father was getting sick, Laenor was mourning his lost love, and Alicent relentlessly bullied her and alienated her in her own home.

“Please,” Rhaenyra begs with tears slipping past her eyes. “Let her go. Let her live, and if you do, we will leave. I swear. We will run and never come back. We won’t raise any swords against you and we will never turn Astraea on you. You will rule for the rest of your life without any resistance from me. Just please let my girl live, please,” she cries for the only daughter she ever had. Her pride and joy, and the child that turned her into a mother only a year after her wedding to Laenor.

She begs with all her heart. She begs desperately and like never before because she needs you to live.

“Ser Alfred,” Aegon presses as he holds his sister's pleading gaze, causing her to snap her eyes to you whilst you start to weep, but also keep your head held high.

“<I love you,>,” you tell her in Valyrian and offer her a wobbly smile that makes her cry out.

“Aegon!”

The sword that was getting brought to your throat stops, but you still wait for the sharp blade.

Alas, it doesn’t come, so you look over at Aegon and he has his hand in the air to motion Ser Alfred to stop and let the guards let you go and fall on your hands.

Ser Jason immediately comes to your aide, but you refuse his help by pushing him away.

“Take her,” Aegon orders, and once again the guards grab your arms to pull you to your feet and drag you to where your mother is.

“Mother,” you whisper out weakly and she examines you but only for a brief moment because guards then drag her away.

“Mother!” You call out as if that would stop them.

“I just wanted to see the great Rhaenyra look defeated first,” Aegon muses. “You will die now because there's no way I would let you go. Do you think I believe you and your promises? No. Fuck that,” he spats. “We can’t both live, sister. It has to be you.”

Your tears dry from your eyes as they almost bulge out with your utter disbelief.

“No,” you whisper a broken whisper and watch in horror as they drag your mother toward the broken Sunfyre. The dragon you had only moments ago looked down upon.

“No,” you whisper again and examine the scene, realizing that Aegon is going to use Sunfyre to kill your mother. Not a sword, a dragon. Fire you can save her from…

Thus with a spike of adrenaline, you yank yourself away from the clutches of the guards holding you captive and run with the purpose of saving your mother. The one you cherish the most. The only reminder you have left of your old life, your brothers, your father, and everything good; all the light in this world, all the warmth, and all the love and mercy.

“Mother!” You call for attention so she knows you’re coming to her rescue and throw your hand out even though there’s still some distance between her and you.

Nevertheless, reaching her and saving her could only be left as a beautiful dream because before you can reach her and as you reach the middle of that courtyard, Ser Jason tackles you to stop you, letting the guards catch up and pull you from his grasp to forcefully shove you to ground so you wouldn’t try to run again and make them look bad in front of the King.

In doing so though they slam your belly and hit your head on the ground—Not hard, but they did hit the spot where that arrow scraped you, so the wound opens and warm blood begins to ooze out.

“Let me go!” You bellow without caring about the fact that you were just hurt. “LET ME GO!” You growl and squirm. “Aegon! Mother! Mother!”

Said woman is left there before the broken dragon, and Aegon utters the word. “Dracarys.”

You squirm harder, but the guards keep you pressed against the ground.

“NO! PLEASE! MAMA!” You cry out desperately and sharply, feeling tears run down your face as they leave your eyes. “AEGON!”

Albeit even if Sunfyre gets closer to your mother, he doesn’t seem to find interest in burning her to eat her. He sniffs her but doesn’t open his jaws, giving you a false sense of hope.

But you should have known better because as you held your breath and thought your mother would be spared because of the dragon's defiance, Ser Alfred stomps to your mother and nicks her breast with the tip of his sword.

This time Sunfyre begins to sniff your mother as his eyes go dark, making you realize what’s going to happen.

“AEGON PLEASE!” You plead with all your will and all your strength for some sliver of hope that you could gain his mercy. “Please don’t do this! Please!” You cry and beg at the same time as you thrash around like helpless prey caught under a trap. “Please!” You bellow out your plea for the first person you ever loved. For the person keeping your hope and will alive.

“The time for pleading is over,” Aegon mutters and then continues to repeat the same command. “Dracarys.”

This time Sunfyre starts to open his mouth as he builds up fire in the back of his mouth.

“Mother! Mama!”

Said woman turns her head and looks you in the eyes with tears welled in her eyes and a small smile only meant for you and you alone. “<I love you,>” she redirects those last words you had given her when you thought you would die.

“Mama!” You mewl out and throw your head back to try and hit the guard pinning you down. “Please!”

Alas, Sunfyre spits out a ball of fire as your mother points her head to the sky and shrieks one last curse before she’s bathed in fire, and then torn apart by Sunfyre’s jaw, robbing her of her life in an instant, and leaving you stunned on the ground in your numbing disbelief that leaves you speechless and robbed of breath.

Your brother Aegon begins to cry, but he sounds so distant that it almost sounds like some illusion coming from your mind.

The flames still dancing on the ground slowly lose their bright color way before it completely dies out, and the coldness nipping at your skin is forgotten; not because the first sunbeams of the new day break out of the horizon and reflect through the window behind you, embracing your back with its gentle touch and almost making it look like a glorious crown around your head. No, it wasn’t that. It isn't even the warm trickles of blood that leak from your head wound and roll down your cheek, no. The coldness didn’t hurt because you were numb to it.

As your eyes stay on the blood that spills from your mother's corpse you are numb. As you watch Sunfyre open his jaw to go for another bite you are numb, but you don’t stay paralyzed, you finally snap from your stupor.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” You bellow and push yourself off the ground, slipping from the guard's gentle grasp to try and run over and pull your mother's corpse from Sunfyre’s jaw, but Ser Jason sees clearly that there’s nothing of your mother left to save. All you’ll do is piss Sunfyre off by interrupting his breakfast, so he captures your arm and yanks you back against him.

“Stop, stop,” he whispers sharply. “She’s gone. She’s gone.”

Even though a part of you knew what he was telling you, another part of you throws your hand out to try and push him off you whilst you thrash your body in an attempt to slip away, but his grip is harsh and he manages to keep you against him.

“Mama! Mama!” You cry out as if her burnt corpse getting torn apart could hear you. “Please! Someone help her! Mama!”

Sunfyre takes his third bite, and then forth, and with each bite that part of you that was in denial starts to accept the truth, making you slowly lose the last fragment of who you were and the person you became to a fire burning inside. All while your heart; that withered thing Cregan had brought back to life loses its rhythm as you lose yourself.

“Cregan,” you mutter helplessly. “Someone get me, Cregan!”

Sunfyre takes his fifth bite and your legs start to shake as your weight starts to become too much for them to hold.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cry out and slowly start falling to your knees. Ser Jason can’t hold you up as you continue to squirm so he falls to the ground with you.

“Mama…” you trail off as you lose your breath the moment Sunfyre takes his sixth and last bite before leaving just her leg and nothing else.

There’s nothing left of her but that single piece of limb. She’s gone…every fragment of your old life is gone with her. Your happiness, your heart, and who you were and who you grew to be dies out with her, leaving nothing but a frail soul that finally found her breath, but only to wail out all the agony and grief that slams into you like waves angered by a terrible storm.

You hadn’t cried when Addam died, and when Aemond died you wept, but right now you scream as you know the one you loved the most is gone forever. Along with everyone else you loved.

There’s nothing left…

Even your voice is lost due to the strain not so much later, leaving you weeping silently on the ground. Ser Jason tries to console you, but you shove him away and stay put without even trying to fight back.

You stay there with your body bent over and your head hanging even if your body is still pampered with rain and ocean water, and you’re shivering.

That is until a sharp pain shoots through your lower body and you can’t help but grunt out and shoot straight up to cry out to the sky.

“Princess?” Vanessa whispers out as she notices your hand fly to your belly before you cry out again.

“Princess!” Vanessa yells out and turns to try and run to you, but the guards keeping her in place stop her—“She’s going into labor!” Vanessa says as she recognizes the signs without having to wait for more signs to show.

“She needs help!” She throws out and snaps her head to Aegon. “She can’t do it on her own. Not in the state she’s in.”

“Princess, you’re going to labor, try and keep calm,” one of your mother's handmaidens offers her help behind her captors keeping them from reaching you.

“No, no,” you mutter as you shake your head. “Not now. Not now!” You bellow before you let out another strained cry.

“Your Grace!” Vanessa yells out as she looks at you.

“Very well,” Aegon waves her off. “Let those women help the princess deliver my brother's twins,” he says and looks over his shoulder to let the guards know he’s had enough of being on that balcony.

After that the guards holding Vanessa and the other handmaidens' back, let them go, and they all scurry to you, forcing Ser Jason to carry Aerion and your brother Aegon.

“Get them out!” You shriek as another wave of pain hits you and lasts longer than the others.

Then again as paralyzing and agonizing as the pain of labor is, none of it truly compares to the pain of grief that riddles you.

Your mother's death plays over and over again as if someone was trying to torture you. It heightens the intensity of your distress, while also making the entire process of labor a blur.

One moment you’re in that courtyard, the next you’re in your quarters again, pushing and crying while also trying to fight against giving birth—not like it stops the twins from coming. The pain only worsens and your distress keeps growing until…it’s all gone the moment your twins, Daenys and Daenerys, come out crying and kicking into their new world.

Albeit you couldn’t find joy in your newborns. When you look at them it's with a distant look and no exhausted smile.

Your lips didn’t even twitch. Your eyes are cold, but in your icy demeanor, deep inside, a fire burns and turns your sadness to ash, letting a fierce rage rise from its remains.

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A/N- FINALLY NOT PREGNANT!!!

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