#Aelora Targaryen Fanfiction

[ryuzakemo128]

The Blood Dragon

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Adult Themes. Dark Content. Targaryen Incest.

Triggers: Incest, Dubious Consent, Drama, Manipulation, Power Struggle.

Words: 1,460

Links: [Dividers] [Masterlist]

Summary: “Do I have your attention now, Prince Daemon?” Aelora purred. “Would you prefer if I had walked into your bedchamber naked?”

[Daemon's point of view]

Aelora looked at him, a stern look in her crimson eyes as she told her cousin to grow up, to get over his petty fears and insecurities. Her voice was like a whip crack, sharp, and stinging. It was a challenge that Daemon found thrilling and irritating all at once. He knew she was right, though. If he were going to play the Game of Thrones, he couldn't be a pawn forever.

“You can't expect to play it, if you don't know the rules, you also can't expect to be allowed to play it if you refuse to play by them.” Aelora repeated. “It’s like a game of chess, sometimes you have to sacrifice a chess piece on the board to get what you want.”

Daemon felt his jaw clench, but he couldn’t argue with her logic. He had been feeling stifled in the shadow of his brother, Viserys, for too long. The whispers in the halls of the Red Keep, the constant reminders that he was second in line for the Iron Throne and always would be, until Viserys changed his mind. His mind filled with the vile words from his hand, Otto Hightower.

He was replaced as heir to the iron throne by his niece, Rhaenyra Targaryen. Replaced by a woman half his age. He clenched his fists, rage pulsating through him, threatening to boil over. Pushed aside, dismissed, deemed unworthy by his brother and the meddling snake.

Unless something changed, something had to change, these thoughts buzzing around. They were driving him mad.

“Daemon.” Aelora whispered, snapping her fingers to get his attention, “You’re thinking too far ahead. You’re putting the cart before the horse.”

“What do you mean?” Daemon snapped, he didn’t mean to snap at her. It was just instinct, his temper wound him up so far, that he snapped at his cousin.

“Power, control and standing can come in many forms, some of those ways lie in what people already know. What if I could tell you, there is another way, a road less travelled and deemed treacherous. As they don’t understand it, nor did they ever seem to want to either.”

Aelora’s smooth voice, silk, whispered sweet nothings and dark promises into his ear, and her hand snaked around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

Aelora’s words were like a key unlocking a door he hadn’t realised was there. He gazed upon the slow forming smirk on her lips, her eyes gleaming with a mischief. Both alluring and alarming. She never looked at him like that before.

What changed? What did she have in mind? When did she start smelling like lavender? Is she trying to seduce me? When did she start wearing revealing attire such as this? She is trying to seduce me, isn't she? The way she smiles, the dress, the lavender perfume wafting into his nose, a scent known to help people relax. But why? Why now? Why me?

“Are you scared of me, cousin?” she whispered into my ear, a shiver ran down my spine as she continued, “Do you not like it when I take what I want? You said you liked it, though.”

Daemon's gaze snapped to hers, a mix of surprise and anger flickering in his eyes. “What are you playing at, Aelora?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“You wound me, cousin, suggesting that I am the one playing games? For all your intelligence, you can’t perceive the possible indication that I wanted to have amorous congress with you. Who else would write you those tiny little notes seeking comfort in the dead of night?”

Her hand traced a line-up his chest, sending a warm shiver through him. Her lips an inch away from his, “It seems you don't actually want to. So, I guess I won't. I’ll mosey my way down to Aegon and take his seed inside of me.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. The audacity! He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm. “You won’t go anywhere near him, do you understand?” He spat out through gritted teeth.

“What's a girl to do to get laid, Daemon?” she taunted, gripping his wrist, pulling him closer to her. Her warm breath on his cheek. “Did you expect me to go without for so long?”

Daemon felt his anger spike and his grip tightened on her wrist. “If you think for one moment I'd let you—”

“Fuck another man?” She finished for him. “Then why aren’t you doing it then? Hmm? I have offered myself to you over and over. Yet you're not looking at me. You're looking everywhere else.”

Then it dawned on him, the notes, the perfume, the dress, the long gazes in his direction, the rumours about her promiscuous ways spread around deliberately by her, it was all a facade. A cleverly crafted web of manipulation to get under his skin, to get him to react. And she had succeeded. He felt like a fool, but he also felt something else, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, something primal and raw.

Here she is now. Pulling him closer to her, like a captain pulling a sailor from a shipwreck, like a siren pulling a sailor into the depth of the sea.

Daemon’s hand loosened around her wrist, his anger dissipating into something else. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, her breath tickling his skin. Aelora’s eyes searched his, looking for something, anything, to prove that she had his full attention.

“Do I have your attention now, Prince Daemon?” Aelora purred. “Would you prefer if I had walked into your bedchamber naked?”

Daemon’s breath hitched in his throat. “What game are you playing, Aelora?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it was clear that he was rattled.

“Is it really a game if I’m trying to get what I want?” Aelora whispered, inching closer to him. “Are you scared you will not like it, or are you afraid of liking it too much?”

Daemon's mind raced with conflicting thoughts, but his body betrayed him, his heart thumping in his chest. He stepped back, trying to put some distance between them, but Aelora followed, her eyes never leaving his. She reached up and traced a finger along his jawline, sending a jolt of heat through him.

He said, “I'm not scared of anything, least of all you, Aelora.” His voice was calm, but the tremor in his chest gave him away.

“Yet you're walking away from me.” Aelora pointed out, “So you must be.”

Daemon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “I’m not walking away, I’m just—”

“Just what? Unable to handle a woman like me?” she taunted.

Daemon felt the blood rush to his face. He was not a man to be taunted, not by anyone, least of all by his own flesh and blood. He stepped closer to Aelora, his eyes blazing with a fiery determination that she had not seen before. “You think you can play me like one of your little instruments?”

“If I wanted to 'play' you, I wouldn't have been trying to get into bed with you.” Aelora snapped as she turned to leave his bedchamber.

Daemon's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. “What do you want from me, Aelora?” His voice was a mix of anger and confusion.

Her lips firmly planted on his as soon as he touched her again, which took him by surprise. Aelora’s kiss was feverish, hungry, as if she had been starving for his touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, her body pressing into his with a need both undeniable, her hands exploring his body like it was a foreign country she hadn't been before.

Daemon’s resolve crumbled like the crumbling stones of Valyria, the warmth of her mouth melting his defences away. He had to admit, he enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the dance of power and seduction. But now, with Aelora in his arms, he realised he had been craving this closeness, this connection, this fire. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, as he deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling in a dance of desire.

His hands wandered further down to her legs, gripping her firmly, as if he feared she might disappear again. Aelora's fingers worked their way through his hair, the soft strands a stark contrast to the iron grip of his hand on her wrist. Her body responded to his touch, arching into him, begging for more. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the same heat that burned in his veins.

This is going to be a long night.

He was going to enjoy it.

No matter what happened.

[tridentqueen]

The Long Weekend

After running into her ex and his new girlfriend, Aly Velaryon falsely claims that she is dating Aegon Targaryen. Feeling unable to decline when they extend an invitation to join them and a few other couples for the long Valentine’s Day weekend, she convinces Aegon to go along with her lie. It’s just one weekend.

Fake dating & ‘90s au

Read on ao3

[dreamerwithapen1]

For the Realm + The Dance of the Dragons

I’m just a man,

But when does a comet become a meteor,

When does a candle become a blaze,

When does a man become a monster?

When does a ripple become a tidal wave,

When does the reason become the blame,

When does a man become a monster?

~ Just a Man (by Jorge Rivera-Herrans)

Forever Tag: @darknightfrombeyond @arrthurpendragon @foxesandmagic @bravelittleflower @darkwolf76 @stareyedplanet @thophil2941btw @ocappreciationtag

For the Realm Tag: @misskatiewrites @acegirlsjustwannahavefun @theskyisbrighthere @stargaryenx @roguephoenix1 

(Want to be added to my taglist? Send me an ask or message!)

[aurora-light-blog]

Crazy headcanons for “Princesses of the Red Dragon” Fanfiction

Daella and Rhae Targaryen, the daughters of Maekar, were sidelined in the Dunk and Egg series and given like barely one line of information. For my fanfiction, I decided to give them more meat. If Aemon was smart, Daella was cunning. She like a female version of Littlefinger who loves her family. She secretly protected Aegon from Aerion and saves both Aegon and Rhae from bad fates. My crazy fan theory for her is related to her descendant … Gerold Dayne.

Please bear with my craziness for a second. Remember Rhaenys Velaryon had black hair with a white streak. Now Gerold Dayne has silver hair with a black streak. Weird coincidence. It gets a weirder – Silver hair. This isn’t a Dayne feature. It’s a Lyseni or Targaryen feature. Add the fact that Gerold Dayne slice into Myrcella Baratheon’s face. A girl that represents both enemies of the Targaryens. If the Targaryens were his relatives, it would add more depth and reason to his attack. With that said, this is the one of more out there theories lol.

The next crazy thing is “the butler did it.” During the second Blackfyre Rebellion, a servant from House Vyrwel was supposedly Brynden Rivers’ spy. My theory is he was just the fallout guy. House Vyrwel were the real betrayers who were rewarded a royal match of Princess Rhae to their son for it. This was all arranged by Queen Aelinor Targaryen.

“Bloodraven had a thousand and one eyes” is honestly an exaggeration, well until he becomes the three eyed crow. Brynden might have been a great military strategist, but ruling a kingdom involves more than just winning battle. Also, a bastard is going to need an active powerful involved supporter, so he received help in the form of Queen Aelinor. This isn’t unheard of. Remember two Masters of Coins had secretly their wives doing their jobs for them, because they couldn’t. Now, you have similar King Aerys 1 who doesn’t want to do his job, so his wife does it. Besides, her name reminded me of Eleanor Roosevelt who was said to or claim to have acted as president in secret when her husband wasn’t able to.

My next fan theory, I must admit is completely made up for the fun of it. Aelora killed her husband Aelor. It seemed like a forced marriage especially with no mention of children and the death was a mishap. It seemed more interesting inferring that she murdered her husband than she was a poor victim girl again.

Actually, this fanfiction, I enjoyed fleshing out motivations for characters’ action. Like Aerion being just plain evil or Aelora and Aelor’s marriage was a simple Targaryen sibling thing is just boring. This is a Song of Ice and Fire. It should have some castle intrigue and powerplays.

Anyway, thanks for listening to my ranting 😊

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41443017   here it is, if you wish to read the craziness.

[ryuzakemo128]

The Iron Maiden

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Targaryen Incest, Swearing/ Cussing, emotional manipulation and mature themes. Corruption kink.

Words: 4,275

Masterlist

Credit (Dividers) @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: Even her skill as a warrior grew as she aged, like a fine wine, overshadowed by the truth of her unwillingness to take a husband who could not hope to reach her in expectation and desire. For the longing of someone to take her, not just in flesh. But in heart as well. 

'The Iron Maiden' for her virginity. Aelora Targaryen, a treasure untouched by the hands of men, her chastity not by choice but by the lack of suitable suitors. Suitable by her standards, at the very least. None of which could stand up to her expectations. Which she had many of. In the hopes, all would lose interest in her in a moment’s notice.

Her purity, as unblemished as the snow that once fell upon the lands of Westeros. Her status of her being untouched by the delicate caress of men became more truth than rumour. Untouched by the carnal desire, men held for their women.

Even her skill as a warrior grew as she aged, like a fine wine, overshadowed by the truth of her unwillingness to take a husband who could not hope to reach her in expectation and desire. For the longing of someone to take her, not just in flesh. But in heart as well. 

Her maidenly chase virtue, both boon and curse to those who gazed upon her. Despite her lack of experience in the ways of carnal desire. Her mind did not reflect her lack of desire in terms of flesh. She just had not found someone she felt a strong pull towards. 

Her crimson eyes, reminiscent of spilled blood, mirroring the battles yet to pass, had never missed a single detail of her potential suitors. Detaching herself to gaze upon them in such intensity. It was no wonder few could stand her glare, akin to a dragon guarding her hoard of gold and silver. None could hope to leave it unscathed. 

Thus, her interest in them would cease. Another man. Another potential suitor. Gone. She would not waste her time on lesser men who had sought to claim her hand as well as her title, land or war ship.

The Defiant, a grand war ship, was gifted to her on her 16th name day by her father in the hope she would reach even greater heights. As Aegon Targaryen The Conqueror conquered Westeros, he had hoped she would bring the sea under her thumb. Much like her ancestor had done to Westeros.

Aelora discovered her potential in the old ways of Valyrian magic, encouraged to explore in further detail by her second-eldest cousin, Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince and soon to be Rhaenyra’s husband. Encouraged her pyromaniac ways of fire and blood. For reasons which continually elude Aegon's mind.

His uncle knew of her skill in the art of pyromancy, Daemon’s ‘wayward’ cousin seeking out the lost ways of fire. The lost art used by the ancient Valyrian mages back in the days when Valyria had thrived. Even though she had pleaded for them to let her explore the depths. She was never permitted to leave. Given the excuse of ‘the family legacy’. He could not help but wonder if Daemon knew of his own dark desires for her. Did he know? Does he care? Would he tell my father?

Aelora had never viewed herself as desirable in the same way men had viewed her desirable. She viewed herself as a bastion of knowledge, art, food, and culture. Wilfully engaging in the ancient parts of Valyrian culture. Her preferred feasts were of seafood and cheese, from aged cheddar to sheep’s milk cheese, stuffed squid and lobster, with a fine wine to match.

Her midnight snacks were cheese and bread with ale to wash it down, her secret indulgence she had rarely shared with others. Even with other Targaryens. 

Her temper was ousted as yelling or screaming, it was a calm mocking tone in her voice as she spat venom at her loathsome enemies, “I see, you're as dimwitted as I thought.” and “Your words have the stench of a fish market.” A cold, calculated burn that cut deeper than any sword.

Her crimson eyes would pierce through their armour, straight into their soul or if they still had one after an encounter with her that is, had it not been burnt away into a fine crisp from her harsh glare. Her mouth painted with a dark cherry red, staining the goblets she would sip from, leaving a delicate trail of her contempt behind. 

“Speak of that again and I will cut out your tongue, do I make myself clear?” She said to one of the lords. “My father’s death is of no concern of yours.”

Her father, Rhaenar Raengyreon, another ancient valyrian house, keen on the preservation of the ancient ways since the time of Aegon I Targaryen’s reign in Westeros began. He had passed recently, leaving her without her mother, Vhaelys and as well as her father now. She would not hear venom spat in her father’s name, regardless of who the recipient was. 

“Do not use his name to fuel your own ambition,” Aelora snarled. “Keep your opinions to those who wish to hear of them. Be gone.”

She jumped, startled when Aegon’s hand clasped the back of her neck, “You certainly know how to vacate a room, don’t you cousin?” He leaned in, his minty breath tickling her ear, “Let’s leave this dreary place, I have something more… intimate in mind for us to feast upon.”

“It is not one of those brothels you go to, is it?” She frowned, her face grimaced at the mere thought of entering such an establishment, as she had heard from one of her young hand maidens, Elora, he had forced his younger brother Aemond into going to one years ago. “If it is, then I am afraid I must decline your offer.”

Aegon knew she had found his penchant of brothels to be particularly odd, though she never said it aloud for him or any man to hear her. It was not disdain, but a clear disinterest in the place combined with a lack of understanding of it. As she never thought about it, nor did she care what men in the Targaryen house did with their own whims.

Aelora was content with her tomes, scrolls, sword practice, sculpting and embroidery. Often dosed in sweat after her training in the afternoon, which sometimes dragged on into late evening depending on how long she wished to train for. Regularly eating enough food to shame a man twice her size, yet she towered over most men already. Aegon found it utterly fascinating. The contrast between her delicate features and her voracious appetite was one of the many intriguing aspects of her character that drew him in.

Comments on her weight were treated with utmost disrespect, and Aegon had learned that the hard way. Only once had he dared to jest about her size, and she had kicked his ass in a sparring session. Her strength was surprising, but her speed was what had truly caught him off guard. Despite their rivalry, they had always shared a deep bond, something that went beyond mere friendship or the incestuous ties that bound them as cousins. It was a bond forged in the flames of their fiery house, a bond that had only grown stronger with each passing year.

Aegon whispered into her ear, chuckling about her comment about it being a brothel, he barely hid his amusement about her assumption, “No, No, No, No, Nothing like that at all. I have something far more…private in mind for you. Someone like you needs something far more…refined than that. I know you are not keen on sharing your meals, let alone your bed, with anyone other than family.”

He winked at her, his hand drifting from the back of her neck to sliding down her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze as he let her go. Aelora would head into her bathing chamber to bathe, but Aegon said, “No need for that, I don’t mind a bit of sweat on my meal.”

She raised an eyebrow, as she told him what she did to keep her skin soft as it is, how her hair is silky and smooth. Detailing things like the pure bath milk, the lavender essence, the dry rose petals imported from Essos, the fine linen towels. And the meticulous brushing of her hair with a comb made of ivory bone from a dragon's horn. Passed down to her from her mother to her before she died.

She showed him her marble stone bathtub in the centre of her bathing chambers. Which her suitor from Dorne had given her before he married a woman from his homeland. Though it was never a sexual relationship by any means, it was more a friendship and a political alliance, something she could appreciate. Something she still appreciates to this day, as he is one of many people she writes letters to regularly. 

Aelora gently swept her silver-hued hair from her countenance, exposing the exquisite contours of her neck. The flickering candlelight cast an eerie glow upon her sanguine orbs, which starkly contrasted with the crimson hue of her attire. This vesture, a garment that clung to her ample form, served to accentuate her voluptuous figure. She had been enticed to his chamber with the offer of seashells, yet it was not monetary gain that motivated him; rather, it was the purity of her soul he coveted more fervently than any gold or precious stone.

Aegon's heart palpitated with a blend of exhilaration and anxiety within his thoracic cavity. He was fully cognisant of the illicit nature of the act contemplated, a clandestine secret so incendiary that its exposure could metaphorically reduce their ancestral abode to ashes. His longing to consummate a relationship with his cousin, a taboo desire, was as intense as the fiery exhalation of a dragon.

Her hair was kept healthy with olive oil, followed by fig butter and honey, lavender to keep her white hair colour and rinsing her hair with vinegar to keep it silky. Frequently braiding her hair after her bath in a loose braid to keep it neat and tidy. Away from her face and eye as she would lay her head down to sleep on her satin pillows full of goose feathers.

She had been bathing in milk for the past two months, almost three months now. A ritual she felt compelled to do before bed. She had included other things into her bathing ritual before bed, like strawberries and chamomile, to keep her skin looking youthful and fragrant. Her skin was soft and smelled like the gods themselves had kissed her with their own breath.

She typically wore a floor-length gown made of soft silk, a soft pink with red roses embroidered into the lace trimming. She would wear a velvet dressing gown to provide warmth as she walked over to her bed of satin, velvet and silk sheets. Aegon knew her bed like the back of his hand, too well, one could say. He knew where she kept her secrets, where she liked to be touched and how she liked it.

Yet she had told him time and time again, she is a virgin, inexperienced in intercourse and sexual fantasies. She had been hoping it would have deterred him, to seek out his lust in other women inside the brothel in Flea Bottom. 

He whispered into her ear, his warm hand firmly gripping the base of her throat, not too harsh to bruise her skin, yet not too soft for her to easily bat away either. “You say you are a virgin, yet I feel the heat pooling between your legs, Cousin. I know you want this just as much as I. Your eyes betray you, I see the hunger for me within the depths of your soul. You lie to yourself, to your body and to me.”

Her cheeks flushed a pale pink, “I do not know what you speak of, my Prince.” she whispered. Looking away, tearing her gaze away from his face to prevent her from staring at his lips. Why must you torment me so? I know you wish for this, cousin. 

His grip on her throat tightening a fraction, enough for her to gasp a little, a smirk formed on his lips, her pulse quickened as he continued to revel in her flushed state. “Do you lie to yourself this often? I swear to the old gods and new, I can see your sweet nectar aching, yearning for my touch. Begging to be claimed as mine. By desire and blood.” His voice, a deep, dark caress upon her soul. 

She shuddered as his finger traced her collarbone, down to the swell of her tantalising breasts. Her breathing became shallow, quickened by the thought of them tangled together in a heated embrace depicted in the romance novels she reads. Her gown becoming suffocatingly tight, “No… No…” she stuttered in weakened protest. “I am supposed to be pure. Untouched.”

Trying to resist the desire building further up inside of her, his lips decorating her skin in peppered kisses, whispering, “Let me teach you how to please someone before you are wed to a man who knows ought.” As if I would let her leave me. Let alone marry another man beneath her. 

As she sat on the velvet lined couch, he pulled her legs apart, like parting the deep sea in two. Gasps heavy, heaving, her eyes widened, not in fear, but in hunger, he would not bury his cock inside of her today. I must have her ache for it. I would not give in to her desires so quickly. 

Kneeling before her on the cerulean rug beneath, “So wet, eager, you deny yourself this, Cousin. I could have had you over and over. However, I have noticed how you touch yourself despite resisting the touch of another.” I have heard her touch her self in ways I had wanted to. In ways, she would deny men. Masturbation. I thought you said you were pure.

“How did you know? Who told you?” she uttered in shock. Hoping it would have been a secret between her and the gods until the end of time. A secret kept away from the rest of the Targaryens.

“Who needs the whispers of others when I can hear your moans as clear as daylight?” He leaned in closer to her, breath hot against her neck, his tongue on her pulse point, “The walls, they whisper sweet nothings, and your moans are like a siren’s call to my ears, Aelora. I know every inch of you, even the ones you wish to hide. You’re so deliciously innocent yet craving for what you think is forbidden. But it is not. Not between us.”

Mockingly close to release, yet so very far away, Aegon felt a sadistic thrill at the power he wielded over Aelora. He knew her body craved his touch, her mind a tumult of conflicting emotions. The scent of her arousal filled the chamber, a potent perfume that only served to fuel his own desires. With a wicked smile, he withdrew his hand, watching as she bit her bottom lip to stifle a whimper of frustration.

“Is there a reason you look at me like that?” Aelora raised an eyebrow, as he took in her soft curves, her breath grew ragged, her body responding to his touch in ways she had never before experienced.

The generous contours of her bosom, which were adorned with a pearl-hued lace that gently rested upon her alabaster complexion. The undergarment she wore was designed to accentuate her ample bust, yet it struggled to contain her voluminous assets. The lace, taut and stretched, offered a captivating hint of the areolae beneath, contributing to an allure that was both subtle and provocative. Her nipples, aroused and expectant, pushed against the fabric, creating a noticeable prominence that reflected her heightened state of arousal.

Her rounded hips encased in white lace, a stark contrast to the crimson dress she had worn to the feast. The fabric, though meant to be delicate, had been stretched to its limits by her robust form. Her stomach, though not flat, was firm from years of rigorous training and discipline. Her thighs, thick and powerful, capable of straddling the mightiest steed or wrapping around the waist of a man in passion.

All of which, normally hidden beneath layers of armour as elaborate as he dreamt of to the plainest of leather, or dresses of fine silk or satin. Her curves, more pronounced now than ever before. Her thighs spread open wide, her panties soaked with anticipation. Aegon knew she had never been touched by a man before, her innocence was as palpable as the air was thick with lust. 

Her thighs trembled, he whispered into her ear, “Your purity is a treasure, Aelora, but it is a treasure that is meant to be shared, not hidden away,” his voice was a gentle coax, a stark contrast to the firmness of his grip. His lips brushed across her soft pale flesh, the warmth of his breath setting off a fire within her, causing her to shiver, the flames of desire flickering out of control.

“Aegon…” Aelora's breath came short as her thighs parted ever wider, offering him her flesh, she felt like an offering for a beast. To be devoured in a heated passion, even the gods envied from afar. “What are you doing?” she managed to ask, after trying to form coherent words for the past five minutes. Though she knew full well what he was doing. She could not have hoped to imagine it happening to her.

Aegon leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers as he whispered, “I am going to claim you, Aelora. Not just your body, but your soul. And once I do, there will be no turning back. You will be mine, in every way a woman can be owned by a man. And I will be yours, in every way a man can be owned by a woman. This is our destiny, forged in the fires of our ancestry. Do you accept?”

“Only if you are certain, completely, totally certain, you want this.” Aelora whispered as an answer. Hoping it would be enough for him. She was certain of her own desires. His declaration completed something inside of her, something she longed to hear longer than words could ever hope to express. “If you are. Then I accept.”

His smirk grew into a full smile, teeth gleaming in the dimly lit room, the only light came from the candles scattered around the four-poster canopy bed. He had her now, the thrill of the chase now over, the conquest now at hand, and he would never let this opportunity to slide from his tightly gripped grasp. Ever again. He made the mistake of letting that happen once before. 

Aegon slipped fingers past the string of her damp, soaking panties, feather-light touches as he spread her pussy with his fingers. Tight like a vice grip around his digits, her slick coating them, making it easier for him to slide deeper into her warmth. Her cheeks flushed crimson, her crimson eyes looking into his violet depths. 

Mostly looking for reassurance rather than more fear of the unknown, her gaze search Aegon’s like a lost lamb alone in the dark forest, seeking the comfort of the moon’s gentle glow. He understood her unspoken words, her need for comfort at this moment of vulnerability. He leaned in closer, their foreheads touching, the heat from their bodies mingling together.

Her breathing steadied to his delight, she was no longer afraid to indulge in the desires she had been suppressing for so long. He whispered, “You’re such a good girl, look how wet you are for me,” his voice filled with a dark, possessive satisfaction.

Aelora bit her bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as she felt a single finger sliding in, filling her up, stretching her walls to accommodate his thick digit. She was so tight, he was indeed the first to ever touch her like this. To which he found rather arousing to be her first, hopefully, only one she shall have in such an intimate way. 

To be the first to claim her, to be the first, the thought of her with another man or even a woman aroused him. His cock throbbed with the thought of her in such a state. He knew she would not lay with another, she would not dare cheat or deceive, as it was not in her nature to do either one.

As much as it aroused him to see her with another, a possessive streak ran through like a bull running through a pottery shop, shattering everything in its path. Knowing full well, he would not let another claim her, not now, not ever. He shall be her first and her last. He would ensure she knew the pleasure of the flesh, the pain of love and the warmth of a man’s embrace. Her guide through this unexplored terrain of carnality.

He took her panties off, followed by her nightgown, leaving her bare before him. The room was filled with the scent of her arousal, thick and intoxicating. Aegon took a moment to appreciate the sight of her naked form, the flickering candlelight dancing across her pale, freckled skin. He could see the goosebumps that had risen in response to the cool air, and he felt his own arousal growing. He had never wanted someone as much as he wanted her at this moment.

Her erect nipples, a delicate pastel rose pink against her alabaster complexion, her breasts larger than he had anticipated them to be, bouncing slightly as she moved. Heaving with each ragged breath, she took. Her skin is soft like velvet, smooth like butter, tasted sweet like wine and fresh berries.

He wanted to smother his face in between her breasts, to feel the warmth of her heart beating against his cheek. To kiss every inch of her body until she was begging for release. But he knew he had to take it slow, to savour this moment, to make it as memorable for her as it would be for him. He leaned in, his breath hot against her skin as he took one of her stiffened nipples into his mouth, suckling gently.

Aelora gasped, arching her back, her hand flying to his silver-blonde hair, pulling him closer. The sensation was like nothing she had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that had her toes curling. She had read about this in her books, but the reality was so much more intense than the words on the pages. Her body was responding to him in ways she had never thought possible.

He released her nipple with a wet pop, moving his attention to the other one, giving it the same treatment. His teeth grazed against the sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. Her hand tightened in his hair, urging him on as she moaned softly.

He trailed kisses down her stomach, leaving a path of fire in his wake. When he reached her pussy again, he inhaled deeply, savouring her scent. It was a potent aphrodisiac, one that made his cock throb with need. He lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder to better expose her to his gaze, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of her glistening pussy.

Her gasp from her lips as he kissed her inner thigh. Moving further down with each kiss down to her pussy, legs quivered, body trembling. Never feeling this vulnerable, open to someone before. Mind racing with thoughts of what else was coming, the anticipation of what would come next, both exhilarating and terrifying.

He took her pussy into his mouth, tasting her, savouring her sweetness. His tongue dancing around her clit, her hips jerking forward to meet his mouth. The sensation was too much, she didn’t know if she could handle this. Yet she craved more. Aelora’s moans grew louder, filling the chamber, echoing off the stone walls. Clutching the cushion beside her, as Aegon continued to explore her depths.

With each thrust, he would whisper words of praise like, “Good girl,”, “You're so good for me.”, “You taste like the sweetest berries from the Reach.”, filling her ears with sweet nothings that had her hips bucking against his mouth. Her moans grew louder, echoing through the chamber. A symphony of pleasure that was all for him. 

Her eyes rolled back into her head, she was so close, Aegon could feel her tightening around his finger. He added another, stretching her even further, her tightness was like a fist around his digits, squeezing, begging for more. He knew she was ready when she began to tremble, her body quivering like a leaf in the storm.

He whispered what he intended to do next, “I’m going to make you come, Aelora. I’m going to show you what you’ve been missing all these years. You’re going to scream my name so loud, the dragons themselves will hear your pleasure.” His words were a promise, a declaration of intent that sent a shiver down her spine.

Aelora, my darling, my sweet, my love, It won’t be long until I will wed you, you will never be alone for as long as you shall live. As we consummate our union, you will never be without me ever again. Our love will become the envy of the gods. 

I, Aegon, have made the mistake of letting you go the first time. I will not make that same mistake again. Furthermore, I swear it. I promise you that you will never go without. My declaration gave you what you were looking for.

We. Us. Together.

[ryuzakemo128]

Birds of a feather flock together

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Mature Themes, Sexual Tension, Pornographic Content with minimal plot. Established Relationship. Indirectly

Trigger Warning: Incest, Sexual Content.

Characters Mentioned: Ex-Wife Reader, indirectly/ directly.

Words: 2,819

Links: [Dividers] [Masterlist]

Summary: “You enjoy the thrill of it, don't you?” He smirked, pressing her wet naked body against him, soaking his white shirt. “You enjoy the thought of someone walking in.”

Aelora gasped as Aemond walked into her bath chamber as she was bathing in the bath milk, lavender essential oil and water consistently heated by a warm stone beneath it. The flickering of lavender scented candles around the bathtub, sitting on white plates around her like some kind of shrine to purity, created a warm, intimate ambience. Casting shadows that danced playfully on the marble walls, the rose quartz stone bathtub reflecting a soft glow.

Her eyes met his, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew he wasn't supposed to be here, but the hungry look in his eyes was impossible to resist. She bit her bottom lip, as he walked closer to her, as he gazed into her eyes and with his index finger traced her jawline. Like it was made of dragon glass, about to shatter at his touch.

Aemond leaned in, his breath hot against her cheek, her eyes fluttered in desire, “I have heard whispers of your beauty, yet they did not do you justice,” he murmured, into her ear.

Inhaling, his scent of leather and sandalwood clinging to him like a second skin. Mingling with the faint aroma of the lavender in the air.

“You know we can't keep doing this,” Aelora stuttered, “Someone will catch us or worse, hear us.”

Her protests were weak at best. She knew he would rather seek her out than some noblewoman from another house. Always knowing where to find her. No matter what corner of the keep she went to.

She leaned into his touch, she craved it, she wanted it. No matter how much she tried to deny herself.

This primal urge, this primal lust burning inside of her, remained. Eating away at her until she gave in to him. To his desires. To his touch.

Although, the excitement she felt at the thought of someone catching the two of them entangled with each other fair outweighed the fear inside her.

“You enjoy the thrill of it, don't you?” He smirked, pressing her wet naked body against him, soaking his white shirt. “You enjoy the thought of someone walking in.”

She whimpered, pouting as he continued to tease her with light touches.

“Aemond, please…” she pleaded.

Barely a whisper, barely a sounds uttered from her rose-coloured lips before she could bite her bottom lip again. He snatched her lips with his in an intense, passionate kiss.

She moaned into it, melting into his touch like a chunk of ice on a hot volcanic rock. As the kiss grew to be more demanding, as she slid her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss more than she usually would have.

Her hands caressed his chest, every part of his chest, as she had done repeatedly.

His hand gripped the back of her neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss further.

Her knees weakened as her hands reached up to touch his unshaven face, to caress his cheek. The warmth of his skin searing into her fingertips. Sending wave after wave of pleasure through her body.

Cum dripping down her thighs as she leaned against the edge of the tub. He broke the kiss, cooed into her ear, “Who said you could cum this early?”

“I can't help it,” she pouted. She wanted his cock deep inside of her, badly. She didn’t know how badly she wanted him. Until she saw him sauntering in her bath chamber. Looking at her as if she were an entire banquet, and he hadn’t eaten in months.

“I want you.” she breathed into his ear. Hoping he would just pick her up from the tub and just carry her to bed. A foolish hope. She had hoped he would notice, to feast upon like a ravenous beast. She had no intention of hiding the fact of wanting him carnally. Like a creature of lust.

Aemond, he had other plans, plans which teased her relentlessly, he stepped back gazing at every inch, every part of her body. The sudden wave of cold air hardened her nipples into pink pebbles.

Smirking as he watched the water droplets slide down her breasts. He reached for a crimson silk robe, draping it over her shoulders, revealing more than it hid. Fabric clinging to her curves, outlining her body within the robe.

The way she looked into his eyes for approval, fuelled his desire, his want, the need to slide his cock inside of her. Stepping further back, the robe remained open, a frontal view of her breasts, her stomach, and her cunt on display.

“Turn around,” he demanded in a low growl, his cock throbbed, erect, pressing against his trousers.

Swivelling her hips around, her hands on the edge of the bathtub, the water sloshed around inside the tub. Graceful like a dancer, feeling more like a mermaid than a human as he wrapped the silk around her body. His fingers tying it around her waist tight enough to cinch it. Pushing her breasts together, her cleavage, deep and inviting.

“Good girl,” he praised her.

A shiver ran down her spine, as he praised her, her cheeks felt warm. The tone he used, the low growl, a mix of hunger and praise, he used it whenever they were in bed together. Whispering sweet nothings into her ear. When he made her scream his name repeatedly until her voice grew hoarse.

He groaned as he slid his hands down the sides of her body, the silk robe felt more like a hindrance the more he touched her. Mentally kicking himself for not bringing something he would be able to tear open.

Mentally cursing himself for not picking something he could easily ruin without anyone getting upset or moderately upset for ruining. Taking a deep breath, he lifted her into his arms, “We better get somewhere more comfortable. Can’t have you slipping and cracking that lovely skull of yours.”

“It would be a waste, wouldn’t it? All those secrets would be gone in a moment.” Aelora murmured. More specifically, her secrets pertaining to secrets of both the forgotten and forbidden lore few others possessed.

Aelora with her secret hoard of books, tomes and journals few people knew of. Rare artefacts, tomes, most people would not have even heard of. Stored inside the nooks and crannies of her bed chamber. Things she had rarely shared outside of her inner circle of friends, confidants, and partners. Aemond was just one of her intimate partners lucky enough to get the chance to see any of it.

The rest of her room as dimly lit as her bath chamber, the lavender scented candles lit either side of bed. The thick purple candles on the end tables either side of her bed. The candlelight dancing on the walls as he laid her on the soft velvet sheets. The mattress as soft as clouds, swallowing her as he climbed in.

The residue of the bath water still clinging to her skin, her silk robe clinging to her body like a second skin soaking in the bath water from her nightly soak in her tub. She looked up at Aemond as he hovered over her. Her crimson robe looking more like the colour black in the dim light in combination with the water soaking it.

"You're so exquisite," he murmured with a light kiss on her lips, "beautiful," he said as he kissed her neck, "delicious," His voice thick with passion, devotion, and a hint of underlining mischief.

Leaning in, capturing her lips in another kiss, hot, burning kiss with the exchange of tongue in each other’s mouths. Aelora moaned into the kiss as his strong hands caressed her body, his fingers tugging the robe’s tie. Tugging it looser and looser until he finally managed to take it off. Falling open, each side of the robe tossed to each side of her curvaceous body. His eyes feasted upon on every contour, line, and curve.

Her bare skin revealed, the cold air nipped away at her sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Aemond took in the sight of her, his eyes darkening with desire. He had seen her naked countless times before, but every time was like the first. Her beauty never ceased to amaze him.

Melting into his embrace, his warm hands, his touch, her body begging for more. Her body felt like it was set alight, like a matchstick struck by his touch. Squirming underneath him, legs parting and slithering around his waist to pull him closer to her.

He whispered into her ear after giving her ear neck a gentle nip, “I want to taste you.” He breathed in her scent, taking a long breath, “All of you.”

Her eyes grew wide with desire as she felt his mouth leave a trail of fire down her neck, kissing and nipping as he went. Each kiss leaving her trembling, begging for more. Leaving her body quivering, her eyes grew wider in lust as he left a fiery trail down her neck. Kissing and nipping his way down to her breasts. Each kiss left her wanting more, begging for more.

His tongue traced, trailed along her collarbone in his descent down to her ample, heaving breasts. Aemond took one peak into his mouth, swirling his tongue around her sensitive nipple, while his thumb and forefinger pinched the other. Aelora arched her back, a silent cry escaping her lips as the pleasure grew more intense. She felt his teeth graze her sensitive flesh, causing her to grip the bedsheets tightly.

Offering herself to him fully. Offering her entire body to him like a sacrifice on an altar. As if she was the lamb. He was the beast devouring her. She felt like a priestess meeting her god. Her breasts were his to worship, to bite, to lick, to kiss, to suck. Her body his to claim, carnally, spiritually, entirely.

Spreading her legs wider for him, parting her legs to make room for him to insert himself between them far more comfortably. Instinctually, her eyelids fluttering as her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he kissed down her stomach. Her hands tangled in his silver-gold hair as he descended further down.

Her breath grew shallow as she felt his warm breath against her clit. His mouth grazed the top of her pussy, the anticipation driving her wild. When his tongue finally touched her, she moaned aloud, biting her lip to prevent herself from moaning too loudly.

He tutted, “This won’t do at all,” His thumb grazed over her lips, “How will you ever moan my name over and over if your lips are clamped shut?”

He dipped his head stealing her lips, reeling them in for yet another kiss, her moans muffled by the intensity of the kiss, the sound of her moaning trapped between the two of them. As one of his remained at the headboard of the bed, his other hand travelled right down her body, grazing her inner thigh as he continued to venture towards her pussy.

She felt his thumb rub circles into her clit as his tongue explored her mouth, tasting her completely. Aelora’s moans grew louder, muffled by their kisses, as he teased and pleasured her with a touch which made her toes curl. Her nails dug into the sheets further, her legs tightening around his waist, urging him to go deeper.

He broke the kiss, with a smug grin on his face, spoke with a whisper, "Much better, Now I can hear every sweet sound you make." Her breath ragged as he spoke with a slight hum, “Look at you, all wet and ready for me, begging for my cock. Tell me, how badly do you want it?”

She mewled into his ear, the heat of his breath sending shivers down her spine, "I want you so badly, Aemond."

“How badly do you want me?” Aemond breathed into her ear. “Show me, Aelora. Use your words and make me believe it.”

Aelora whined, her voice thick with want, “I want you to fill me up, Aemond. I want to feel your cock deep inside me, stretching me, making me yours again and again,” her eyes half-lidded, looking straight into his violet eye.

The urgency in her voice made his cock throb even more. He growled into her ear, as he removed his hand from her clit, watching her whine at the loss of contact. He stood up, his eyes never leaving hers, as he began to remove his clothes. Each piece revealing more of his taut, muscular form, honed from years of training and combat. Aelora's eyes roamed greedily over him, her arousal spiking at the sight of his bare chest, the smattering of silver-gold hair that trailed down to his groin.

He smirked as he said, "I'll give you what you want, my sweet cousin," his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it gently as he climbed back on the bed from her ankles to her waist. She watched with hungry eyes as he stroked himself, her hips rising slightly to meet him, eager for his touch.

Aemond took a moment to appreciate the view, her slick pussy glistening in the candlelight, her body trembling with need. He whispered, "You're so beautiful." He leaned in, pressing his cock against her folds, teasing her with the tip.

Aelora's eyes closed, and she moaned, “Please, Aemond, don't tease me.”

His hands on her hips, his grip firm and demanding, Aemond didn't hold back any longer. He pushed into her with one smooth, powerful thrust had Aelora crying out in pleasure. She felt herself stretch around him, the sensation overwhelming and exquisite. He stilled for a moment, allowing her to adjust to his size, his gaze never leaving hers. Her eyes widened, a silent plea for more, and he delivered.

Her breasts bounced as he thrusted his cock into her slowly, he groaned as her pussy, tight, wet, and wrapped around his cock. Her eyes remained shut, breath hitching with each stroke of his cock. Her walls clenching around him, as if trying to milk him of his cum.

He groaned as he said, “Gods you are so tight, Aelora, warm, welcoming, like a glove made just for me, for my cock.” His voice was gruff, his breathing labored. The feel of her around him was indescribable.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving half-moons in his skin, urging him to go deeper, faster. He complied, setting a rhythm that made the bed frame creak and the candles flicker with each stroke. The sound of their flesh slapping together echoed through the room, mixing with their desperate, wanton moans.

His ex-wife, she didn’t know what she was missing out on, Aelora thought, ‘If she doesn’t want him. I’ll have him. She clearly doesn’t want him. Who would honestly discard such a beautiful specimen of a man? Her loss. She clearly doesn’t deserve him. Any part of him for that matter. I’ll have this moment with me forever and she’ll have to live with the fact she betrayed him.’

Her thoughts were cut off when he pressed his lips against hers again, teeth grazing against her bottom lip causing a whimper to come from her mouth. She would have to go back to that thought later. She would have to resume her thinking pattern later. If he knew what she was thinking right then, right now. Would he be hurt? Would he be offended?

Her eyes grew wide as she felt the head of his cock hit her cervix, a slight twinge of pain, he murmured, “Sorry, gevie, I got carried away.” He kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes searched hers for any signs of distress.

As soon as he didn’t spot any he continued, his strokes much slower, gently, like a serenade to her soul. His tongue traced the curve of her ear, whispering sweet nothings that left her trembling with need all over again. Aelora couldn’t hold back anymore, she had to tell him, she had to get it off her chest.

“Aemond, I’m going to cum again, please don’t stop,” she begged, her voice a desperate whine.

He grinned, his teeth sharper than ever in the candlelight, “Would I ever dream of stopping?” He said, his voice was low, a smoky whisper sending a combination of goosebumps and shivers right down her spine. He knew exactly what she liked, exactly how to make her moan and beg for more. He knew it all. Her secret, her weakness.

His ex-wife will soon be a long-forgotten memory as long as she is around, and she plans on sticking around him for the foreseeable future. She would have to learn that pulling him around every direction didn’t solve anything. It only pushed him away.

‘May she drown in her own tears,’ Aelora thought. ‘May she live with consequences of her actions. Now and forever.’

[ryuzakemo128]

Prologue: Blood Rose

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Possible mentions of the following death, betrayal, intense levels of gore. If these don't bother you wish to proceed to read it. Do so at your own risk. OC house inserted to some degree. If you don't like that, I express this as my only warning.

Rating: MA15+

Links: Dividers / Masterlist

Words: 1.6K

Summary: The beginning of House Raengyreon and House Targaryen. The history of the two houses joining together. Meshing together as one.

[Next Chapter]

Aelora Targaryen.

Aelora Raengyreon Targaryen.

Her parentage?

Vhaelys Targaryen and Rhaenar Raengyreon.

Rhaenar Raengyreon is the son of an ancient dragonlord of Valyrian house. House Raengyreon, it is an old house. It is just as old as House Targaryen. According to some people, mythic legends, it might have been older. Even then, it entirely relies on the storyteller. Depending on what myth is told. How it is told. Along with what details are left in and taken out.

Entirely shaping how someone else could see House Raengyreon. Some feared it. Some became suspicious. Others loved to hate them for whatever reason they might have had. One thing was clear. Every telling about them? No two are ever the same.

Raengyreon known for its love of preserving of every possible part of Valyrian culture. Including its militia, warships, art and music. Anything and everything Valyrian deemed deserving of preservation. The mindset of preserving everything they could. Echoing into the descendants of the house.

Adapting while preserving as much they could. Loving their past while adapting for the future. Hand in hand like a story of two lovers doomed to die together. Like a comet falling from the sky and killing people if it lands inside a city with a large populace.

Either way. They loved both the past and the future. Letting go of one would be akin to severing a limb from their body with a rusted, serrated blade. Leaving chunks of flesh behind. Barely hanging on, dangling from the mutilated limb like a piece of string.

Months before the betrothal would become official. Rhaenar serenaded Vhaelys. Often singing valyrian songs to pique her interest. Frequently giving her rather lavish gifts in a colour of her house. House Targaryen. Red ruby necklaces with silver. Black extravagant dresses. Which would fall down to the floor.

His own dragon unlike Vhaelys's dragon is a sea serpent. He introduced to her as Vermith. To create a connection with her going beneath the layers of a typically normal courtship. Vermith, his sea dragon. Deemed long enough to wrap around Dragonstone twice. Almost three times.

He knew of her House, he knew of how they valued their dragons and their might. He knew it was another way to speak to her on a different level entirely. Not only that, but he valued her dragon as well. Often praising Jēda, Vhaelys's dragon, in Valyrian. As much as he could and whenever he was able to.

Dragons were his passion as well. He felt as if every dragon no matter how big or small deserved to be praised.

Vermith, he is normally passed down to firstborn children to help them adapt to dragons and their care. To ensure children knew how to treat a dragon with proper care and respect. In doing so, they would know how to care for their own dragon once they reached a proper age. Normally, when the child would reach the age of 16.

Aelora's older brother, Aelor, given Vermith. Once he had reached the age of 16. As it is his birthright as the firstborn. Adamant in showing him off to his younger sister, Aelora. In turn, she loved it more than anything else. Seeing something huge, powerful and ancient like Vermith fuelled her imagination like a frantic poet wishing to love something she could not have. “He is so huge.” Aelora gasped, her voice filled with awe and wonder.

“When you get your own dragon. I'm sure they will be just a beautiful.” Aelor reminded her.

“You think so?” Aelora Targaryen tilted her head at the notion of her own dragon. Her older brother, Aelor Targaryen. “I hope it is just as pretty as Vermith.”

Aelor chuckled, ruffling his sister's hair. “Even prettier, little sis. Maybe it'll be silver and shimmer like moonlight.”

“Like moonstone or opal?” Aelora pressed, thinking of the possibilities. “Perhaps even like the stain glass windows in the septs?”

Aelor, the patient loving brother, knelt before Aelora, bringing himself to her level. “It could be all of those things, and more,” he said, a smile gracing his lips. “Imagine a dragon with scales that shimmered like moonlight, catching every colour like a living kaleidoscope. Or maybe its wings would be translucent, like stained-glass, their hues deepening and lightening as it soared through the sky.”

Aelora's eyes sparkled with excitement. A dragon like that, so unlike the usual blacks and greens of their family's mounts, felt fantastical, almost mythical. “Do you think such a dragon exists, brother?” she whispered, her voice filled with a childlike wonder.

Aelor grinned. “There are tales, whispers of dragons from the Valyrian Freehold before the Doom,” he explained, his voice hushed with reverence. “Dragons with scales that shimmered like twilight and eyes like molten gold. Perhaps your dragon will be a descendant of one of those magnificent creatures.”

“That would be so cool.” Aelora's mind buzzed with ideas. “Like the story mother said about the large creatures of the sea. Like the big prehistoric sharks.” Sharks were her favourite creature. Ironic, since Vermith was a sea serpent.

“I like to think there are as many types of dragons as there are sharks.” Aelora confessed to Aelor. As if it was some kind of dark and hidden secret. “From flying ones to the ones in the deep sea.”

Aelor's smile faltered slightly. “Dragons,” he corrected gently, “are a whole different story, Aelora. They are intelligent creatures, not beasts like sharks. They choose their riders, and the bond between them is unlike anything else in the world.”

“I… I… I know silly.” Aelora replied. “There are many….many breeds of sharks. Some we do know about and the ones we don't know about. It stands to reason that there are dragon types we may never know about. Think about it. A deep sea dragon of bioluminescence or like the fish with a light that lures their food or even one that has transparent body that would reveal their squishy insides.”

Aelor laughed, his earlier apprehension melting away. “Alright, alright,” he conceded. “Maybe there are some deep-sea dragons lurking in the shadows, feasting on bioluminescent fish with their squishy insides.” He teased, making a face that contorted his features in mock horror.

Aelora giggled, shoving him playfully. “See? You can imagine it too!”

Aelor chuckled, dodging Aelora's playful shove with practised ease. A glint of something akin to admiration flickered in his eyes. “You have a very.…imaginative mind, Aelora,” he admitted. “Perhaps you should be the one writing the dragon stories, not me.”

“Maybe I will,” Aelora countered, a spark of determination lighting up her face. “My deep-sea dragon could be a real terror of the deep! Imagine, with razor-sharp teeth and glowing scales that could blind its prey!”

Aelor tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Intriguing. But wouldn't a glowing creature be easily spotted in the dark depths?”

“Aha!” Aelora exclaimed, her eyes widening with a new idea. “Then it could have bioluminescent lures, like those angler fish! It could attract its prey with a beautiful light display, then BAM! Dinner!”

Aelor threw his head back and laughed, a rich, genuine sound that warmed the air. “See, Aelora? That's why you should be a storyteller! That's brilliant.”

Aelora beamed, basking in his praise. “So, do you believe there could be deep-sea dragons now?”

Aelor considered this for a moment. “The world is a vast and mysterious place, Legends often hold a sliver of truth. Who knows what secrets might lie hidden in the uncharted depths?” He winked. “Perhaps one day, you'll be the one to discover them, Captain Aelora of the Deep!”

Aelora's heart swelled with a mixture of excitement and a strange, thrilling anticipation. “Captain Aelora of the Deep,” she repeated, savouring the sound of it. A mischievous grin spread across her face. “Maybe… I… I… I will.”

Aelora drew pictures of deep-sea dragons. The art journal, large enough to be the size of a map folded in half. She had books of encyclopedias of deep sea creatures around her. She would take inspiration from the large, heavy books.

The picture of a future warship, she called it “The Defiant Blood Rose,” or simply “Blood Rose,” depending on what name someone would have called it. It bore a massive valyrian steel blade in the front to cut through ice, ships and sea creatures that would dare to attack it. The main wood used? Combination of oak, teak, and mahogany to create a strong and resilient hull. Her idea to the shipwrecks of older ships to create a mosaic of reclaimed wood, each plank whispering tales of past voyages and battles.

The figurehead made of marble in the shape of a siren at the back of the ship to ward away potential thieves. In a scribbled note, “A sign there is danger here. Enter at your own peril.” and the massive blade, “To cut through a ship or chunks of ice like a knife through butter.”

Canons either side of it, spewing fire and lead in a deadly dance meant to emulate the bioluminescent lures of her deep-sea dragon. A captain's quarters with a massive window overlooking the ocean, a sprawling map covering most of the known world, a sextant, and spyglass resting on a sturdy table beside a comfortable armchair. The bed? A bed nook, built into the hull of the ship, facing the window, allowing the Captain to wake up to the sunrise over the waves.

"Someday this will be a real warship. Someday it will exist. Someday I, Aelora Targaryen, will sail the Blood Rose across uncharted seas, a captain not just of men, but of the very legends whispered on the wind."

[ryuzakemo128]

Chapter One: The Defiant

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Possible Mentions of the following: death, betrayal, intense levels of gore. If these do not bother you wish to proceed to read it. Do so at your own risk. I wish to also warn those who wish to read this. A OC house inserted called House Raengyreon to a certain degree. If you don't like that, I express this as my only warning.

Rating: MA15+

Words: 3.6K~

Links: Dviders / Masterlist

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Summary: If you could live your life again. What would you do differently? Would choose to live in a different way?

Note: This is mostly about Aemarr and Aelora rather than Daemon and Aelora. Daemon makes an appearance in chapter two. I hope to use this as a way to reveal another of House Raengyreon. I hope you guys enjoy it. If you have any questions feel free to ask. If you have advice or critques about my writing please be well intentioned and nice.

Note 2: Long chapter. I advise people to set aside enough time to read it.

Whispering of the Targaryen court. Insufferable whispering of Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting the same ones who scowled in disgust of how she looked or what she did. These whispers following her around like a committee of Vultures. Unease continually filling her gut from an endless flagon of dread. A most morbid part of her could not hope to contain the urge to see who was whispering about her. The urge to listen in to their gossip about her ate away at her. ‘What could they be possibly talking about? Why are they looking at me like that? Why are they snickering and laughing at me? What could I have possibly done to earn this?’

It continued to eat at her like a colossal sized serpent swallowing her whole. Snapping its mouth around her entire body. A snake of blue scales and eyes like the sun. Eying her like some kind of forbidden meal. A meal you can not have. But you cannot help but sneak a bite. Maybe two. Sometimes you consume the entire meal despite it all. 'Why should I go without when they get everything handed to them?'

Aemarr, Aelora’s fraternal twin and older than her by fifteen minutes. They were treated differently because of a mix of gender roles, personalities and style choices. Aemarr, a kind, gentle and compassionate soul. He enjoyed things men were deemed not allowed to. Things that were deemed only fit for women. He was the one able to ignore their taunts, snickering, jests, mockery and comments about his masculinity.

Perhaps it was not done outright, yet it was done enough times to for Aelora to break a few noses of the men who got far too close to him. The crunch of a nose broken in the training yard, she would have punched the lights out of more of them had her brother stopped her by force. Gripping her by the shoulders.

“That is quite enough Aelora.” Aelor stated to get her to calm down. His voice, low and soft like a lullaby.

“They started it, they wouldn’t stop.” Aelora grimaced. She attempted to chase after them only Aemarr did not loosen his grip upon her shoulders. Determined to stop her from doing far more damage than she already done.

Protective because the thought of losing her brother to scum like them was a horror she had nightmares about. Loving. In the way she would rather get hurt. If it was her getting mocked. Teased. Bullied. She would not have cared. It was only when he became a target for their ire. Things shifted. Turned.

Loving. In the way she would rather get hurt. If it was her getting mocked. Teased. Bullied. She would not have cared. It was only when he became a target for their ire. Things shifted. Turned.

Compassionate in the way she cared so much that it hurt. A burden she wilfully carried, she became a shield for her brother in the ways she thought it mattered. Deflecting blows from those who were ignorant, shameful, arrogant and prideful. These nobles did not matter to her in the same way her brother mattered to her.

Pity, Aemarr became the only person who saw beneath it all. The façade of her ‘madness’. The same façade forced upon her by the assumption of other noblemen and women. The nobility who clung to the comforting normal. Pity, a word she learned to loathe with every fibre of her entire being.

She would roll her eyes as soon as someone tried it. Tried anything remotely resembling pity. "Don't" her lips curved into a feral snarl. "I don't need your pity. I never needed your pity."

Aemarr swore he heard her whisper to him. “I do not want to be pitied. I do not want to be 'feared' either. I just want to be loved.” Whether anyone would believe it. She wanted to be loved. Just as much as he did.

The only difference between the two of them is she had believed to be undeserving of it. Someone thought differently, in the distance, looking over at them from the banisters above the two of them. Aelora saw white hair from the corner of her eyes. She turned abruptly, panicked over the thought of someone listening in to their private conversation.

“I saw someone.” Aelora stated, wide-eyed and startled. “Someone up there.” She pointed to the overview above the training yard. Hoping it would give her brother an idea of where she saw them. She continued as she about to place her hand on his arm. Looking everywhere to see if there were any others watching the two of them. She whispered in a low voice, “We should continue this conversation back in our solar. Lest the ears of spies have more to report back with.”

Aemarr raised an eyebrow at her. “There is only me, you, and the guards around here. I doubt there would be anyone here who would want to listen to this conversation.”

“Regardless of whoever might or might not be here right now. I do not feel comfortable in talking about this further, as it can easily be taken out of context and reworded to fit their perspective.” Aelora continued to whisper in a hushed tone in the hopes it would throw off the person who might have been ears dropping.

Her unease remained, like a prickly thorn in her side, preventing her from completely relaxing. The constant need to look over her shoulder had made her flinch at any sight of another person in the corner of her eye.

"Who do you think it was?" Aelora asked. As she constantly felt the need to look behind them. "I would not be surprised if it was one of those weird Hightower spies. They have loads of those hanging around. Vultures."

“Those vultures you are speaking of, are they the ladies-in-waiting or someone else?” Aemarr chuckled.

"Mix of both. Hightower is quite the sticky-fingered house. I would not put it past them to have a spy or two tagging us from around or corner. Reporting back to their 'Rat King'." Aelora grumbled in unease of being watched.

Aemarr chuckled again, both warm and reassuring, “Worrying about it will not solve it. Let us head back to the solar. Your mystery spy will lose interest enough to leave us alone.”

“We can only hope they do.” Aelora sighed in exasperation.

Aemarr had only recently taken up embroidery, a feminine activity, used to provide gossip between ladies-in-waiting to noblewomen of higher status. He loved to join Aelora in making various designs for either tapestries, clothes or a blanket for their mini fortress in the centre of their solar.

His interest supported by her intensely and passionately. No matter how his interests looked or appeared to others. Supporting his interest in it with her entire heart. Just as her interest. Her enjoyment in the art of swordsmanship. Inherently something only men were interested in. Supported by him in return. She never took it for granted. Ever.

To Aelora. Family supports each other. Even when they may or may not agree with you. Even when they cause you to feel enough anger to want to tear your hair out. Even when your angry with them. Family sticks through the good stuff and they remain together throughout the bad.

To Aemarr. Family meant tradition and expectations. A family that didn't stand up for each other. A family who would rather think of themselves rather than the children they birthed.

His smile faltered a little, for a short time before he masked it, he would not allow her to see him in such a state. He did not want her to worry about him any more than she does already. It is no wonder he could see the few grey hairs coming in earlier than normal. Testament to the taunting she received from the nobility inside of court.

“You are perfect, Aemarr. You will always be perfect,” Aelora whispered, her voice a reverent tone. Pious one used by septas. Some would say it was blasphemous to speak of him in such a way. Not like Aelora cared what they thought either way. The flaws were included in when she called him perfect. Beyond compare. Comparing him to anyone else would do the second person a disservice.

“You look like you were carved from opalescent marble. Carved to show off your perfection in exquisite detail." Aelora murmured. "No detail missed or altered or changed. Pure perfection. Absolutely divine.”

Aemarr blushed, a faint tinge of pink dusting his cheeks that clashed playfully with his silver hair. "You always know what to say, Aelora," he stammered, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper to match hers. "But please, for the love of the Seven, don't let anyone else hear you speak of me like that. They'd think we were mooning over each other."

She raised an eyebrow at his proclamation, “I doubt they would care what I say, irrespective of the content. They would rather present a story fashioned by the whims and desires. Inventing a narrative, they would rather see spread across the keep.”

“The more ammunition they have against us, the bigger the bonfire is going to be.” He reminded her. As if she had not considered the possibility of death. As if death was not already reeking from every corner of the keep. He paused to look at her, still face first on the couch as if she waited to pass out on the couch long enough for the world to fade away completely. “The world will remain even if you fall asleep.”

“Pity. Here I thought it disappeared as soon as I closed my eyes to fall asleep.”

“The world sleeps with you and without you. Just as when you fall asleep. Everyone else is either awake wandering around the Moonstone Keep.”

“Sounds intimate of the world to sleep with me like that. The world should take me to dinner first.”

“I have a feeling the world will. In some form. The world might not even be ready for a suitor like yourself. Although, if Daemon were to say it, he would more than likely blurt out something like, 'Fierce as a dragon waiting to be unleashed. A woman worth waging a war for.'"

"Who wages a war for women though? I thought wars were fought between houses." Aelora sighed as she sat up on the couch. "I doubt there is a woman out there worthy enough in their eyes to wage a war over. If there was one. We would have known by now or at least I would have."

Aelora loved to find forgotten lore no one else had bothered to look for, the parts of the world which people would normally forget. Parts of the world overlooked by the nobility. Information no matter how small or how ‘insignificant’ by countless maesters. She included lore of forbidden subjects. “Lest we forget lore deemed forgotten or forbidden. Preservation covers everything. Not just the parts we want people to remember."

History remembered them. The ones deemed important to the biased Hightower spies in Maesters robes. Reeking of bitter entitlement. Tearing through history with eyes of bias. Importing their opinion rather than objective fact.

Visenya Targaryen. Sister-Wife of Aegon Targaryen the Conqueror. The wife Aegon married out of duty. He did not love her in the way he loved Rhaenys.

Rhaenys Targaryen. The second Sister-Wife of Aegon Targaryen the Conqueror. The wife he loved more than Visenya. The one Aegon loved far more. For every one night he spent with Visenya. He speant ten with Rhaenys.

Aerion Targaryen. Aerion Brightflame. Aerion the Monstrous. The one who thought he was dragon. After drinking so much wine. He drank a cup of wildfire thinking it would turn him into a dragon. Only he died shortly after swallowing the potent cocktail.

Aegon himself did not interest Aelora one bit. She would actively avoid him as she knew others would tell his story. His wives deserved the same and equal amount of respect. Even if people did not think women were not important enough to be allowed the Iron Throne.

Aelora thought staring at her portrait. One depicting her in her of her beauty. Forever eternally beautiful. Perfect without the effects of ageing.

'I wonder if Visenya had someone else to fill the gap Aegon left between them. Did he not love her at all?'

'Was it duty and nothing else?'

'Did Visenya find solace in the arms of another man while he spent those ten nights away from her?'

'What good does marriage do if you look at your first wife and decide the second one is better?'

'What good is being the first wife of a man who would rather spend more time with his second wife?'

'What good is power if you are alone at night?'

'Aegon never deserved her. Any part of her. He was lucky to have the honour to even marry the woman. I would have said that to his face if he was alive to hear it. I would also have given several types of glares. Not that it matters now. It has already passed. Set in stone.'

She would have stayed there standing in front of the painting staring at the portrait had her brother not decided to intervene. She had empathy for the women who were cheated on. The women who were ignored for a man's mistress. The women who were silenced because they did not bring their husbands a male heir. Among those, history erased the names of so many women and did not blink an eye.

When Aelora called Aelor perfect a second time. Her whispers of devotion, fearing it would only fall upon deaf ears. Her fear of abandonment running rampant through her mind like a horse unable to stop running.

“You are always perfect. You are like a star from far away. A cosmic entity without the wear and tear belonging to the typical human experience.”

“Stars burn out. They eventually fade away in time. I do not wish to be something you cannot attain. I am attainable. I am right here. I will always be right here."

“Then you are fragment of a star. Fallen from the grace of the old gods. A blessing for all those who see you or even get the slightest chance of seeing you."

Aemarr scoffed, pulling her into a side hug, his calloused hand ruffled her hair. “'Perfect? Little sister, you are far more fascinating than perfect. Perfect is boring. You, Aelora, are captivatingly mad.'”

“Remember the longer you stare the more captivated you get.” She teased with a mischievous glint in her crimson eyes.

"Perhaps, but then again, who wouldn't be captivated by a sister who wields a sword with such grace and ferocity, reads dusty tomes filled with forgotten lore, and embroiders gruesome tapestries with the same enthusiasm?"

Aelora laughed, a sound like wind chimes dancing in a summer breeze. "Perhaps you are right. Maybe being captivatingly mad is better than being perfect after all."

'The Defiant' with its hefty blade in the front of the ship. A blade gleamed an ominous obsidian black even from this distance. It carved a jagged silhouette against the setting sun, a constant reminder of the destruction Aelora was capable of. A vision from a nightmare, made horrifyingly real.

'Finally, I have something worthy of my making my own history.’ The excitement filled her with a glee she had felt since….well, ever.

“They are not finished. Father said another six weeks and it should be done.” Aelora declared. As she ran around as the shipbuilders continued to work on the war ship.

The monstrous sized warship destined to be the one cleaving through the ships of slavers, pirates and anyone who dared to exploit others. Unavoidable, a necessary monster, a needed predator against those who prey on others. She could not wait to be the one in control of this war ship.

‘No one take this blessing from me. No one can. No one will ever underestimate me again. No one will ever touch me without my own consent again. NO ONE.’

In her mind it will reflect her both positively and negatively. "To see a person, you must account for both the positive and the negative." she whispered. Mostly to the ship as well as herself.

Ravenous like a kraken who had smelled their prey or their ‘lunch.’

Jaded like the soul of a warrior who had done more than enough. Seen more than enough. A living ghost amongst the others.

Cynical like a woman who had been cheated on repeatedly. Bitter tears run down her face. Leaving her a ruin inside her bones.

Cunning like a thief who knows how to evade capture. A song on the wind of a man who stole the heart of a woman only to break it to pieces.

Suspicious of those who wear masks of familiarity. Masks of those who give her nothing after being given all of her.

Like a predator hunting its prey throughout the night. She will not be denied what she feels is her birthright. She promises she will not be afraid.

Feral. Untamed. Unleashed.

She will eat until she is satisfied.

'I am here as I have always been. I have not left. You just thought you saw someone else instead. This is who I have always been. Ostensibly. I am not blind like you think. I see who you are. I know what you do. Who is it to say I must be with you? I am like an unclaimed dragon, wild and free from everyone. I do not need anyone. I am not here. Yet I am not dead.’

Aelora wrote into her black leather journal dark quill resting in her right hand. Half asleep from her most recent nightmare.

Aemarr's snores from his study penetrating through the air of the still night. The burning incense smelling of lavender next to her bed.

Resting upon her bedside table. It did little to ease her mind nor did it quell the remnants left behind from her nightmare.

Her nails now digging into the palm of her hand. In foolish the hope she would quiet them down. Through the pain of her fingernails biting into the flesh of her palm. A desperate reminder she was indeed alive. Amongst the living.

Inside her nightmare, she stood upon a beach black like charcoal. Red beneath the surface like lava from beneath the thick layers of charcoal coloured sand.

The nightmare she had was so vivid. So real. It did not feel like a dream at all. Too real. Too much like it was happening right now, right in front of her. The nightmare she had was so vivid. So real. It did not feel like a dream at all. Too real. Too much like it was happening right now, right in front of her.

Blood dripped from her, as the scalding hot blood rain fell from above the sky as her feet dug beneath the sand. The beneath felt more like lava than a beach. Scorching heat seeping into her boots to her feet. Each step a new wave of heat, a new wave of pain burning through her feet. Like invisible burning hot coals pressed against the bottom of her boots.

The metallic taste on her tongue amongst the ash and smoke. The sting of the sand hitting her face as she continued to walk through. A guttural growl from beneath the deep layers of sand vibrated through her bones. As if seeped into her soul. She ran from the creature swimming through, a sharp fin digging through the sand, a sharp fin digging through the sand with a horrifying screech.

She ran quicker, but the sand became thicker and thicker preventing her from running as fast as she would have liked. Breath hitched in her throat as the sand became quicksand, sucking her legs down with a cold, suffocating grip. Panic clawed at her, mirroring the frantic scrabbling of her hands against the shifting grains. The guttural growl rose in volume, accompanied by the unmistakable tremor of approaching movement.

Are you here to eat me too?

She made the same horrifying screech as the creature was about to consume her whole. Her throat raw from the heaving panic ripping through her throat. A larger creature landed from the sky, a monstrous dragon, obsidian black scales gleaming with an unnatural, oily sheen. Its eyes burned like molten gold, fixing on Aelora with a chilling intensity. This wasn't just any dragon; it was a creature of nightmares, a twisted reflection of the power she yearned to wield.

Are you here to consume my soul?

Are you here to erase my name from history and existence?

The monstrous dragon dipped its head lower, its obsidian scales glinting an unsettling red in the rain of blood. Aelora braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for the searing pain of dragonfire or the crushing weight of gnashing teeth.

But it never came. Instead, a deep, rumbling voice echoed in her mind, not unlike the approaching thunder. Why would I devour one who is already consumed?

"Why wouldn't you? Is it or Is it not your nature to consume?" she questioned it further. "You have enough power within your maw to eat me whole. Yet you refuse to do so. I need you to do this." Her voice strained as she continued to wait and wait.

Until the screams of her nightmares racked the body of her in the real world. The same white hair she saw in the training yard, she had seen in the corner of her eye again. Only this time she decided to follow it. Taking the candle with her inside the inky depths of darkness within the halls.

She could not let this pass a second time. She could not let this slip through her fingers like thin white chemise lace of her nightgown. Chasing after the wisp of white. If it had happened to someone else. She would have called them all sick with madness.

'Who are you?' she pondered as she continued to follow the person who she saw from the corner of her eye twice that day.

[ryuzakemo128]

Chapter Two: A Tome on Pleasing Others

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: The possible mentions of the following death, betrayal, intense levels of gore. If these don't bother you wish to proceed to read it. Do so at your own risk. OC house, (House Raengyreon), inserted to some degree. If you don't like that, I express this as my only warning.

Rating: MA15+

Word Count: 2.3K

Links: Dividers / Masterlist

[Previous Chapter]

Summary: A warrior keen in protecting others while building a facade to keep others away.

[Aelor Targaryen's Point of View]

The solar richly decorated in fine silks, satins, and furs. From the windows to the ceiling. It all felt rather suffocating. Aelor decorated it with his younger sister, Aelora. A mix of grotesque and pleasant tapestries to keep the room feeling alive, despite the dreary day outside. The plush carpet beneath my feet felt like a prickling ache. As the lavender incense continued to waft in from my sister’s bedchambers.

“Daemon, I would like to remind you. Aelora would most likely be betrothed or married off to someone else by the time this ship is built. My mother, Vhaelys, and father, Rhaenar, would never agree to such a union. You should know that by now, cousin.” I scoffed as I watched Daemon pace around the room.

I taunted him a little, I didn’t mean to do it. It felt like he needed to understand who he wanted to be married to. “She is already of age and my parents will not waste it. Even if they had agreed. Can you really give her what she needs, Daemon? Can you really rescue her from her nightmares as well as me or her twin brother Aemarr?”

Part of me wanted him to say no, that he could not hope to understand her nightmares were based on her trauma. Did he feel jealousy over how she went to me during a thunderstorm? As we have done in the past. Cuddling beneath a thick blanket until the lighting and thunder passed by.

“Can you even manage those whispers and rumours of her being mad, though? I do not imagine you being able to manage her night terrors like you do foes on a battlefield.” I felt a rush by subtly taunting my cousin.

I didn't wait for him to respond this time. “Perhaps you don't believe she should be dwelling on these nightmares and night terrors. Perhaps she should accept that life isn't fair and shut her mouth.”

Daemon's eyes narrowed as he stopped his pacing. The room grew tense, the air thick with unspoken words and a challenge I hadn't intended to lay down. “You think me so callous, Aelor?” His voice was low, a simmering anger just beneath the surface.

“I don't know what to think of you, Daemon.” I answered. “Aelora stands up for me more than she was ever asked. She shoulders enough to crush any man and yet, she carries on. If you want her, then you must understand that she needs a partner, not a prince who will use her as a stepping stone for your ambitions. She deserves to be loved and understood. Can you look me in the eyes and say you can offer her that?”

Aelor pointed to the embroidery done by Aelora of the nightmare she had last night. The reason she stayed asleep now is that her nightmare scared her from being able to sleep the rest of the night.

The setting of a beach with black charcoal sand with the deep red lava deep below it. The dragon of obsidian scaled and molten gold eyes. As well as the serpent creature swimming inside the boiling hot sand after her. The blood rain from the crimson red clouds in the sky. Down to how she depicted herself in the embroidery as a wandering merchant rather than a princess. Her crimson eyes, usually bright with a spark of rebellion, were dull and lifeless in the tapestry. It was a stark reminder of the toll these nightmares took on my sister.

Should I even reveal the accident which occurred yesterday? The slash across her back was horrific to see. A whip from a guard that was too eager to show her who’s in charge. He was aiming for Aemarr, but she stepped in front of him. I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t, not in the presence of our parents. But I know that she is suffering, and she shouldn’t have to endure this alone. She’s suffered enough for one so young. Would he even care? If he were there, what would he have done?

The medical report written by the maester in my hands. “I have a medical report from a maester of a recent incident. One which had occurred inside the training yard yesterday. If you want to be with her. If you care about my sister. I will allow you to read it. If you can not find in your heart to genuinely care for her or even about her. I can not imagine how a match between her and you would work. I know this may sound harsh or cruel. But I cannot allow you to exploit her for your own gain. I hope you understand where I stand on this matter.”

I laid the report written by the maester on to the ebony-coloured oak table between the two of us. I had the hope he would read it, call off whatever nonsense he might have planned for my younger sister and see some kind of reason.

Daemon snatched the report from the table. His movements swift and agile despite the anger I saw simmering beneath his violet eyes. His fingers tracing the words written upon the parchment as his expression grew increasingly grim. He read about the accident, about the whip, and the bravery of Aelora that had led to her injury. The silence grew heavier, the air thick with tension.

Silence stretched on between the two of us for what it felt to be like hours rather than minutes. It felt suffocating like the plush carpets beneath my feet. I could see his brow crease as he reread the final line, his jaw clenching tight enough to crack under the pressure of his anger. Slamming the report back onto the table with a force to echo through the solar. I hope it was not loud enough to wake Aelora from the depths of her slumber though.

I silently prayed it was not loud enough to wake her. She did not have enough sleep from the night before to be woken so abruptly. Aelora does not angry when she is woken abruptly. Mostly confused. Then frustrated. Frustrated because no one bothered to let her sleep in after a night of terror. “Why did you wake me up?” she would ask with a yawn like a feline’s.

“Aelor? Did something happen? Are you ok? I heard a loud thud.” Her voice crept from her bedchamber. Irritation laced with concern.

A wave of relief washed over me as I heard her voice. “Everything’s fine Aelora. Just a lively conversation with our cousin.”

“When did Daemon get here?” She questioned further.

I heard her footsteps came closer to where both Daemon and I were sitting. Muffled by the plush carpet, her wavy silver white hair peeking around the doorway. Her crimson red eyes usually full or either defiance or mischief. Clouded with sleep and worry. A white dressing gown, loosely tied at the waist, covered by her nightgown. The dishevelled look she had did not deter Daemon nor did it dimmish her beauty in the slightest.

Daemon answered her question with a grace expected from a prince, had this been the Red Keep it would be fitting. The tension in his voice softened when he addressed her. “My apologies, Aelora, for arriving unannounced and causing a disturbance during your rest.”

“Apology accepted Daemon. Although in the future, I would like to receive a little notice beforehand. I hope you understand why I ask that of you next time.” Aelora’s acceptance of his disruption surprised me.

Daemon amused at her response, a smirk tugged at his lips, her apology readily given despite her sleep being disrupted by him. He looked at her and back at the embroidery again, as if he saw two vastly different sides of the same person. Like he could not believe she was willing to give her body up to protect another person as recklessly as she had.

“Aelor and I were just discussing something that may or may not interest you, cousin.” He carefully put it. “I have also received news of your most recent accident.”

“Ah, the incident with the guard, is it?” Aelora grimaced. “What does the maester’s report say of it? I haven’t got the chance to read it myself yet.”

Daemon hesitated, as he did, “Daemon, whatever it is, can’t be worse than my nightmares.” She said softly as she spotted the hesitation he displayed. “What are you more worried about the guard not getting the right punishment or the details of my injury?” she enquired.

His jaw clench tighter as he held the maester’s report closer to his chest. Crinkling it as he held it close. I watched him wrestle with his emotions. A mixture of anger with something looking suspiciously more akin to concern etched upon his face. Subtle enough to be mistaken for a trick in the lighting.

The crinkled parchment within his grasp, another testament of his anger and concern warring within him. Another hint of the internal struggle going on inside him. I watched him closely, searching for genuine concern. Was this a flicker of protectiveness, or just another of his well faceted and controlled façade?

Daemon finally spoke, his voice low and controlled, “It says you protected your brother from a guard who was about to whip him.”

“I would do it repeatedly. Whether it was a whip, a sword or anything else for that matter. These two are my brothers as far as I am concerned, worth protecting regardless of consequence. I do not ask for you to understand why I did what I did. At the time. It made sense to do so.”

He stayed silent after she told him why she did it. What he said to her afterwards, I did not expect him to say. I half expected him to lash out at her, to tell her what she was both foolish, naïve, and reckless. Instead, he surprised the both of us.

“You were rather brave, Aelora, far braver than you should have to be in such a scenario. Perhaps a little foolish. Though you would not have listened to me even if I was there. Content to throw yourself in front of danger regardless of how those around you feel about it.” He paused for a moment to sit down in front of her in a chair of plush velvet. Perhaps out of a desire to out of a desire to be closer and examine her injury himself.

“It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it did a few hours ago.” Aelora shifted around in her seat. As Daemon continued to examine the extent of her injury. As if she felt like she was wasting his time looking at her. She felt like he was wasting his time even looking at her. The stitches holding it together, any wrong move or jolt could have torn them open.

She fidgeted with the sleeves of her dressing gown. Her crimson eyes darting away from his gaze. She did not want him the slightest idea she was still in pain. She did not want him let alone anyone see the vulnerability etched upon her face. The pain was not limited to her physical body. It possibly felt like a constant reminder of her helplessness. A stark contrast to her usual display of her fierce persona she loved to project.

Often saying, “I do not feel comfortable letting anyone I do not completely trust to see me in that way.” As if she did not want to taint the persona. She created with her two hands. The one she made mostly for herself.

‘Selfishly to shield her own vulnerability from others? I wish I knew what she hoped to achieve by creating such a persona.’ I pondered as Daemon continued to examine her for a little while longer before finally to speak up again.

Daemon spoke up again, his voice a low murmur, “You should go rest. It will heal faster that way.” His gaze lingering on her injury for a moment longer than he should before looking away.

Aelora flinched as his fingers brushed against the raw skin. Shame burned in her cheeks. She hated this feeling of vulnerability, of needing someone else's help. "I'm….I’m fine," she mumbled, pulling away slightly. The stutter in her voice, a tremor ran through her, the flicker of vulnerability she had tried to squash beneath her carefully constructed façade.

The feeling of shame had turned her cheeks a light rose pink. Only deepening underneath Daemon’s gaze. She must have felt rather exposed. Perhaps she was not used to having someone else’s attention in such a way that it made her insides churn and gargle. The strange mix of unease with fluttering she could not quite define entirely.

Daemon, for his part, seemed taken aback by her reaction. He quickly retracted his hand, his violet eyes widening in surprise.

Her face flushed, her confusion written all over her face brought to her by a most unfamiliar sensation brought upon her by Daemon. Even if it was in fact unintentional.

As I watched the exchange unfold before my very eyes. Relief warred with a kind of possessiveness I had no idea I could have inside of me. Relief at seeing Daemon back off from Aelora was undeniable. Beneath it, a prickling unease wormed its way in. It felt…territorial, a strange possessiveness I hadn't acknowledged before. Aelora was my sister, yes, this possessiveness felt different. It wasn't just the protective instinct I'd always had towards her.

Perhaps it was far deeper than simply being protective over my younger sibling.

Perhaps it was far deeper than I had assumed it would be.

I don’t want to lose her. At the same time. I know she was never mine to have. She is not an object to be owned like a piece of furniture. She cannot know how I feel on this matter. The less confusion the better.

[ryuzakemo128]

Crimson Red - Aelora Targaryen x Aegon II Targaryen - [Link]

The Iron Maiden - Aelora Targaryen x Aegon II Targaryen - [Link]

Birds of a Feather Flock Together - [Link]

Dragonfire & Wildfire - Aelora x Aemond Headcanons - [Link]

The Blood Dragon - [Link]

Prologue: Blood Rose - [Link]

Chapter One: The Defiant - [Link]

Chapter Two: A Tome of Pleasing Others - [Link]

Aelora Sexual Headcanons - [Link]

Aelora Headcanons - Part one - [Link]

Broken Promises - Aegon ii Targaryen x Female reader x Aemond Targaryen - Link

Hand that binds - Link

The Last Dragonborn - Link

The Last Dragonborn - Part 2 - TBD

Freyja the Last Dragonborn

Headcanons - link

Wrath of a Scorned Woman - link

Masterlist / Spotify Playlist

Credit (Dividers) @cafekitsune

[ryuzakemo128]

Crimson Blood

Pairing: Aelora Targaryen x Aegon II Targaryen

Genre: Angst

Rating: MA15+

Content Warning: Major Character death, mention of parent death, possible mention of pity sex. Pre-established relationship between Aegon and Aelora.

Summary: Aelora chases after her mother after her mother leaps into the ocean.

Eyes of deep crimson and long white eyelashes. Porcelain skin complexion like the sun never touched her. Long wavy silver white hair reaching down to her waist, the undertones of blue and purple in her hair shimmered like moonlight caught on a seashell. She had a sharp chin and a pointed nose. Her lips were full and red, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

Aelora resigned herself that someone would not love her. She stopped trying to court someone. She stopped trying to get something she felt no one would give her. Mourning someone that would never come back. She would pull out an armchair, fill a bathtub and sleep in the armchair waiting.

The ocean almost claimed her. Like it did to her mother. Aelora ran after her mother, it was the fastest she had ever run after someone. "Wait for me" she repeated. No shoes on her feet, she had not bothered to put them on before running after her. She jumped in after her.

"Aelora!" screamed a man that saw her jump in to get her mother back. Aegon knew she only had her mother, and now even she is gone.

[Aegon's point of view]

I would not let her leave me like this, not when I had just found her. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched her slip away into the tempestuous sea. "Aelora, come back!" I roared, my voice barely carrying over the wailing winds and the frenetic symphony of the storm. The waves crashed around her, eager to claim her as their own, but she was a Targaryen. A daughter of the dragon, born of the same fiery blood that coursed through my veins.

My legs felt like lead as I charged into the water, the icy embrace of the sea stealing my breath and strength. Each step grew heavier, the weight of the water pulling me down, but I would not be deterred. The waves tried to swallow me whole, but I fought back, driven by a love and fear that surpassed any pain the sea could inflict. The saltwater stung my eyes, blurring my vision, but I could still see her, a silver ghost fading into the abyss.

"Aelora!" I screamed her name again, reaching out, my hand just brushing the fabric of her gown. For a moment, our fingers entwined, and hope burned in my chest like the fire of our ancestors' dragons. But the sea was cruel, and the current ripped her from my grasp. I dove under the surface, the cold water enveloping me, searching the murky depths for any sign of her. The world grew quieter, the only sounds the muffled cries of the storm above and the desperate beating of my own heart.

Desperation choked me, the taste of salt heavy on my tongue. My lungs burned, screaming for air, but I held on, refusing to let the ocean win. Visions of my father, frail and beautiful on his deathbed, flickered at the edges of my sight. Aelora couldn't follow him. Not yet. With a final, herculean effort, I kicked my way back to the surface, gasping for a breath that ripped through my raw throat.

The taste of brine choked me, and the world spun like a drunken sailor. Coughing up seawater, I squinted through blurry eyes, scanning the churning waves for any sign of Aelora. Panic threatened to consume me, but the ghost of a memory, Aelora's determined chin jutted out in defiance of a particularly nasty storm, spurred me on.

Relief.

Pure relief.

Relief flooded through me once I had her in my arms. I forced myself to ignore the sting of the salty water, focusing only on the warmth radiating from her small, shivering body. She clung to me like a limpet, her silver hair plastered to her face.

Thanks to the Seven.

She was alive.

The sex afterwards? I swear my mother would have called it pity sex. I didn't think it was. I didn't want to think of it as that. Aelora would not want to think of it as that. But we both knew what it was. We had lost so much that night. Lost ourselves to the sea, lost our hope of escape, lost our innocence in the fiery embrace of our love for each other. It was raw, desperate, and painfully beautiful. We clung to each other as if the very act of being joined could keep us afloat amidst the wreckage of our lives. The saltwater washed over us, mixing with our tears and sweat, as we sought solace in the one place we had left to find it.

Once we were back home. I carried her to our chambers, the warmth of the castle surrounding us like a mother's embrace. I laid her on our bed, her skin still cold and pale from the ordeal. Not only that, but I knew she needed rest, but I couldn't bring myself to let her go. I wrapped her in blankets, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the roughness of the night we had endured. Her eyes searched mine, filled with a silent plea for comfort. I kissed her forehead, feeling the tremble of her breath against my lips. "I'll never let you go," I murmured, hoping the words could warm her as much as my arms.

She did not move away from me. It was nice, for once, not to feel alone in this castle that was never truly our home. We lay there, her shivering subsiding as the warmth of the bed seeped into her bones. The candles flickered on the nightstand, casting dancing shadows across the walls, whispering of secrets and whispers we had long ago forgotten.

She didn't outright promise to never jump into the sea again. But the question of a future child felt like a silent pact between us. A promise that we would fight for a life beyond the storms that crashed against the castle walls. We held onto each other, our hearts beating in a rhythm that was ours alone, as the candles slowly burned down to stubs.

"I hope she has your eyes." I told her.

"Are you sure? I have very poor vision." Aelor smirked. Her crimson red eyes searched my own, looking for a sign of jest, but finding only earnestness.

"They're the colour of dragonfire," I said, brushing a lock of her silver hair from her face. "I'd be proud to see them in our son's face, reminding him of his fiery mother."

"It would be nice." Aelor agreed with a smile.