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simpingland · 2 years ago

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Aemond x male valyrian dragonrider reader? Other than the Targaryens and velaryons there was another valyrian family that survived the doom, but unlike the other two this family was already very powerful in old valyria, after the doom they rebuilt themselves in essos. As well as having the most dragons (and the biggest) out of the descendants of valyria.

Anyways sowrry for the extra lore I just made up lol, aemond and reader meet when the Targaryens (and velaryons) are visiting reader's to-be-kingdom to establish an alliance

Zālagon and Vhagar// Aemond Targaryen x Male!reader.

Summary: You are the heir of a powerful valyrian House in Pentos. But the only thing you wished for was to fly day and night with your dragon. Only the lonely Prince Aemond can make the future look promising. Part 2

A/n: hi, thank you for reaching, I absolutely looooved the idea. I struggled a bit cuz it's so good it deserved a better pacing. I hope you like what I came up with. Gif not mine.

※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※As much as you were begged to be punctual, you and your dragon were distracted by the beautiful mountains that surrounded you. It was already dark when you arrived, and the carriages were the first thing you saw, then you caught sight of the dragons. Only one of them was comparable to yours, a green dragon. They all roared as you passed by, but your dragon remained calm until you reached the place where the others of its kind were resting. You couldn't even get water over your body before you were pushed by one of the lords of the castle to hurry up. There was no one at the entrance, nor in the throne room, which meant that they were already at dinner, and that you would be embarrassing your father. In your riding clothes, smelling of dragon, and sweaty from the run to the castle, the guards announced you and opened the gates. Blonde (and other brown) heads turned to look at you, and only your mother stood up to greet you. Giving you a kiss and apologising on your behalf, you were able to observe the family closely. King Viserys, old but kindly, said it was all right to wait for you. His wife, russet-haired, young and beautiful, remained serious. The heiress, Rhaenyra, watched without mock attire, smiling, though more to herself than to you. Her husband Daemon barely gave you a glance, not looking pleased with the event. Jace and Luke were the only brown haired boys at the table. Not even their eyes had Valyrian features, but they were formal. Aegon was more intent on filling his wine cup when dinner had not even begun, and his sister-wife Helaena was whispering things only she could hear. And all of them were easily overshadowed by him, Aemond Targaryen. His gaze did not lose power even after he kept one eye covered, and it was fixed on you. There was no expression, but you couldn't take your eyes off him either, engrossed in his whole persona.

You were seated opposite your father, and Aemond stood some distance away. But that didn't stop him from captivating you, and the exchange of glances became frequent. Your father spoke and listened to the king. The only other participant in the conversation was Jace, and Rhaenyra listened as her husband whispered things to her pointedly. Queen Alicent was quietly scolding every gesture of Aegon, who flirted shamelessly with anyone who came near him. You could see how your father tried to engage you in conversation, but whenever he caught your eye, you found your mind elsewhere (mostly in the Prince) and never responded nimbly. You could feel your father scolding you with his eyes.

"Have you come from flying?" The King asked you suddenly.

Everyone looked at you, it was quite obvious, but you couldn't just point it out to the king, so you nodded and tried to concentrate on something other than that serious blond prince.

"Yes, Your Majesty... I fly almost every day."

"Even if it rains?"

"That's when I enjoy it most, actually." Your answer brought a smile to his face, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as Aemond settled into his seat, sipping from his cup as he looked at you.

"My, you are a boy of courage," Viserys rewarded you.

"Though a foolish one too," your father interrupted. "He has trouble telling day from night."

You flushed, and the atmosphere grew a little tense. No one likes to hear that hateful tone between father and son.

"When one rides such a magnificent creature, my lord, time loses all meaning." Aemond's voice drew everyone's attention away. His hand caressed his goblet, and as he looked at your father with an expression of superiority. "Your son does well to presume what have made you mighty all these years."

Then he looked back at you, and you saw his expression soften. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face, full of gratitude, and in complete agreement with him. Though your idea of dragons was not one to brag, it was certainly a useful one. You listened to your father try to find the right words without sounding offended.

"True, Prince Aemond," your mother supported him gently. "My husband has not ridden for years, but I have always admired our son's flying abilities. I've heard that Princess Rhaenyra first rode a dragon at the age of eight..."

"That's right," said the King, smiling at his daughter.

You watched as the Prince disappeared back into the shadow of his elder sister, only you seemed to be in awe of him, and you could not help but interrupt.

"Prince Aemond is the rider of Vhagar, the last dragon of the conquest, Mother." And then you watched as everyone fell silent again. The Velaryon brothers seemed to tense, and Aegon looked amused.

"The only dragon comparable to ours...no offence..." you continued. "How old were you when you claimed her?"

"He stole her," Lucerys added. Looking at him you saw how he was frowning and his mother was asking him to be quiet. "Princess Rhaena was supposed to claim it but the Prince couldn't respect her mourning before he stole Vhagar."

"I'm not going to argue with a child," the Prince said, taking another sip from his cup.

"A child who will one day be lord of Driftmark and outrank you. A child who plucked out your eye."

That was enough to make him rise to his feet, shouting bastard, and immediately a fistfight broke out between uncle and nephew. Your mother tried to pull you away, while your father commanded the guards to stop them. It was chaos, and you could see blood pouring from Aemond's nose, though blood came from Lucerys' mouth as well. And that was the end of the meal, but not of the night. When you followed your intuition, you discovered what you were looking for. On the mountain where Vhagar rested, the Prince sat, his silver mane being caressed by the air. He heard you coming, but did not turn to look. He didn't even say anything when you approached his side. He still had blood on his face, and you regretted not taking something to wipe it off.

"No one answered my question," you said. You saw a hint of a smile on his thin lips.

"I was ten years old when I claimed Vhagar."

His voice was extraordinarily sweet and yet it still managed to keep your heart beating fast. You felt you had to measure your words, but the urge to keep talking to him overcame you.

"Impressive, really."

"Impressive? You are the one who has been surrounded by dragons since you were a child. Ours are ridiculous in comparison." He finally turned to look at you.

"I was a very cowardly child. It took me fourteen years to ride for the first time on the only dragon that didn't terrify me."

"Strange for an heir of your house."

"I know." You ducked your head. It wasn't the first time you'd been made to feel inferior, like you were a mess. And you couldn't see the regret in the Prince that he had made an ill-advised comment.

"What is the name of your dragon?" He tried to bring the subject back to dragons. And your gaze went immediately to the distant mountain where it rested.

"Zālagon" you replied with a shy smile. A valyrian name.

"'Burn'?" He smiled back. "It's a good name for a dragon. A bit obvious, no offence..."

You laughed at his imitation of your comment at dinner. His leg pressed against yours and you could see that he was comfortable. Vhagar moved in place, with roars that begged his master to fly.

"You should let her fly around Essos. She looks bored here."

"I'd get lost if I went alone," Aemond said, returning to a serious tone.

"Maybe..." you tried to sound convinced, "I could lead you."

You didn't expect him to agree, but you were glad to propose, and before you knew it, Zālagon took flight with Vhagar trailing behind. The moon was full, and the lights of the rich city were guiding you. Both dragons roared in greeting and you could see Aemond enjoying himself as much as his dragon. Myr would be a good stop, a nice place and not too far away. You were ahead of him, your dragon was as big as Vhagar but not as old, for your family had managed to maintain the glory of dragons better than the Targaryens. You decided to amuse yourself, asking Zālagon to fly around Vhagar, and this began a race of ups and downs that put you and Aemond backwards on your mounts. And when Myr appeared at your feet, you flew straight into its harbour, in a race that Aemond was not prepared to lose.

As soon as you got off your dragons, you watched as they played together, not too far apart, enjoying each other's company.

"Vhagar is so big that she can't socialise with the other dragons. She can't even fit in the Dragonpit," the Prince confessed to you.

"Westeros is no place for Valyrian blood. Or so my father always says."

"Is that why you have never gone there?"

"And because it is here that we have built wealth similar to what we had."

You began to stroll along the shore, cloaks shrouding your appearance, but you could make out much of the Prince's face.

"I have read much about your house, my lord. It must be an honour to be heir to it." He sounded sincere, and you found it hard to disagree, but you had no desire to lie to him either.

"My father is obsessed with making it even greater." You heard a soft laugh from Aemond.

"And that is exactly why our visit has been arranged, because my father fears him."

"True. Though you and Prince Lucerys haven't left much time to talk, have you?" You tried to sound as light as he had sounded but he quickly turned serious again.

"I regret my behaviour," he confessed.

"No, Your Majesty, no apology is necessary. In fact...I'm sorry I brought up the subject of Vhagar. I didn't know it would provoke a confrontation."

"No, you didn't. No one expects the little bastard to be an imbecile..." he sounded rabid, his fists clenched.

"You're a Targaryen through and through by the looks of it."

That made him stop in his tracks. Indeed, it made you incredibly nervous and you feared for your words.

"Have I offended you?" you asked.

You watched as he shook his head, looking you up and down. He was so handsome, with that sharp face, his crystal blue eye. You walked on, watching as your dragons continued to amuse themselves. There he told you the true origin of the fight, the dispute over the throne and his father's indifference to him when he lost his eye.

"I have always aspired to something more, something of my own ability. But I have always been pushed into someone's shadow. They never wanted to listen to me and all my problems have been reduced to nonsense. And in the shadow one feels terribly lonely".

He shouldn't have told you all that, but something in you had pushed him to confide in you the things that grieved him. And before you went further away, taking care that no one could see you, you sat down under a tree that covered you both. There you were able to remove your hoods and saw that Aemond still had an open nose wound. You tore a strip of cloth from your cloak before grabbing a bottle of alcohol that you always carried for the many wounds you got on your travels.

"If you let me, I can disinfect it for you," you offered. He said nothing, just nodded, a little apprehensive. "It will only sting a little."

He made hardly a movement, just clenched his jaw from time to time, but nothing more. Then you remembered his eye and it all made sense. He was more than used to healing wounds. Your hands caressed his face and you tried to hold back everything that provoked you.

"I'm sure," you told him, "that dragons don't get stolen. And that Vhagar chose you."

"What makes you think that?" He looked sideways at you, his face close to yours as you cleaned his wound.

"She is the best dragon Targaryens have left alive, and she is surrounded by creatures who share her blood but do not match her. I have not had the pleasure of knowing your siblings well, but something tells me that none of them have the courage to claim a dragon of conquest at the age of ten. I think she saw herself reflected in you. Just as you must have seen yourself reflected in her."

"I've always thought the same thing, but I know if I said it out loud everyone would make fun of me."

"I would tell you that it's not like that, but I usually say what I think and it's true that they end up making fun of me." That made him smile.

"I get the feeling you don't enjoy being a firstborn and heir." He fixed his gaze on you again, serious but sweet.

"Everyone knows I won't do well."

"And how is that supposed to be known?"

"Well, because I don't want to do it myself. I'm not a leader. I've spent days studying lessons that any other kid would understand on the first try. I get distracted by anything and the only thing that makes me happy is to be flying anywhere so long as I don't set foot in the castle. With Zālagon I don't feel so...lost."

Perhaps it was too much information, too, but since Aemond had trusted you, perhaps you should show him that you trusted him. As you pulled the cloth away from his face, finishing your work, you felt Aemond's hand caress your fingers before pulling them away from him He surprised you and you saw his pupil dilate. Your eyes travelled alone all over his face, stopping especially on his thin lips.

"I've wanted to kiss you ever since I saw you appear through the doors."

His confession ruffled every hair on your body, and you were unaware of how long it took for your words to come out. But you managed to say them.

"Then do so, like the conqueror you are, Prince Aemond."

Your whispering voice tantalised his lips and he could take no more. He lunged forward, capturing your mouth slowly but insistently, and you could see that he had really longed for it. And maybe you hadn't understood it until that moment but your body was asking you to continue with the same fervour, placing your hands on his neck as he stroked your hair. The kiss continued as soon as you parted and you felt his warmth again, and if he didn't come closer you came closer. His lips always received you, so soft, so precise.

When dawn broke, it was hard to leave the coast behind, but the flight was even more fun than the way there. What would you do now? Your desire to leave Essos grew, but you didn't know that Aemond's desire to leave Westeros was also growing. He kissed you before returning to the castle, and along the way you could feel his fingers brushing yours constantly. If you were lucky, your parents' dealings would keep you in touch, whatever they were. But you decided not to worry about that, deciding to enjoy the visit. You spent some time practising with your swords, where Aemond proved to be a superb swordsman. You showed him the castle's library, where hundreds of writings from the ancient city of Valyria were kept. And of course, he visited your room when night came again, and that was his favourite place.

"I wish I could go with you," you said to him late into the night, lying in your bed and him beside you.

"I wish I could stay here forever..." he whispered back to you.

"You'd be missed."

"No. Not really."

You wanted to contradict him, but you couldn't even start a sentence when he shut you up with one of the hundreds of kisses you'd shared over the course of a few hours.

At the farewell dinner three days later, you decided to sit next to him, even if it meant moving away from your father.

"It is a pity, King Viserys, that we have not dealt with an arrangement to your liking," your father remarked.

That took you by surprise, and it seemed to Aemond as well. You prayed that no one had noticed how outcast the two of you had been all that time. But Rhaenyra's crooked smile at you let you know that it had been notice.

"A pity Helaena is already married and my nieces engaged. Perhaps the next generation can bond." The King seemed positive.

You looked at Aemond, trying to enjoy what little of his face you had left to see. He looked tremendously disappointed. If anyone had enjoyed Essos, it was him. Under the table, you put your hand on his leg, drawing his attention. He turned to give you a sad look. You wouldn't let it end. If he didn't stay, you would leave.

"Father," you put in a firm voice, releasing Aemond. "Perhaps we could unite our houses in another way, without marriage."

"And how on earth would that be done?"

You didn't know. So you resorted to a list of pros that had been rattling around in your head all day.

"Prince Aemond has no official duties at King's Landing. He is far from the Throne and knows the politics of Essos and Pentos well. Perhaps far better than I... it would be a great help to have him around." Your father looked at you disapprovingly, but still said nothing. You were about to give up. "Besides, his dragon has befriended Zālagon..."

"His dragon..." he replied wryly, "of course."

He was going to say no, but King Viserys smiled at the idea.

"Aemond," he said, looking at him, "do you wish to stay here?"

They all waited for his answer, and for an exaggeratedly long second you feared you would make a fool of yourself and see him disappear.

"Yes, father. I would be honored."

Both fathers looked at each other, and when your father stood up, he raised his glass.

"To peace between Valyrians!" He proclaimed.

Everyone joined in the toast, but you found it hard to drink just from the joy that filled your whole body. You watched as Aemond smiled sheepishly before looking up at you. He nodded at you, grateful. For once, his father had done him a favour. That night he slept with you again, and the next night you slept in his room, and the night after that you slept in the mountains of Pentos. And so you travelled the world for decades, always together, flying. At your side, Aemond's intelligence had a place at the table, men followed his orders and it was at your side that he stayed through crises, battles and feasts. Your most loyal advisor and you were his most loyal companion in life.

Never again did any of you feel alone or lost.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #Aemond Targaryen x male!reader

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dreamlandcreations · 1 year ago

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Imagine being Aegon's twin brother and being in love with Aemond

Imagine being Aegon's twin brother and being in love with Aemond and him returning your feelings.

You reluctantly take the throne but manage to make peace with Rhaenyra, accepting Baela to be your Queen and offering the title of Hand to Rhaenys, naming Daemon the commander of your army and letting your elder sister keep Dragonstone as the Princess.

All is going suspiciously well. Until Aemond's wife discovers your affair in the worst way possible. However, the gods are with you because Lady Baratheon slips on the steps as she runs from you and falls to her death.

It is a tragedy that you take as a sign. You refuse to continue the relationship, breaking Aemond's heart not just your own. But your little brother is nothing if not stubborn, he will never let you go.

#no warnings. read at your own risk #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x male!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #male!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen imagine

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lya-dustin · 2 years ago

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Seasons of my love

Bridgeton!Au! Loosely based on S.2 of Bridgeton where the Male!Reader is Anthony and Aemond is Kate Sharma basically.

It was supposed to be heterosexual, but that felt too basic, so have some gays in love this Sunday instead.

Gif by @gameofthronesdaily

Taglist: @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly

It was heard from the Lonely Light to Asshai by the Shadow that if a man wants to court the princess, he must win her brothers’ favor first. So far, no one has been able to secure Prince Aemond’s blessing.

After Helaena and Aegon petitioned their father to stop Ser Otto and the Queen to force them into marriage, court had been filled to the brim with eligible bachelors.

All simpering fools who have the ambition to rival that of his grandsire and none of the personality nor good nature of Laenor, the last man to marry a princess.

Laenor ---despite his degeneracy--- had been knighted in battle, able to charm birds off trees and, most importantly, a dragonrider.

Laenor had also not given a rat’s arse about what his wife did behind closed doors ---or in the stables as Aemond and Aegon discovered a lifetime ago.

This last part is of paramount importance due to what Aemond knows about his beloved sister.

Sweet Helaena should have been named Rhaena, he thinks as he tries to stop mother from hearing his sister calling Lady Elisa Piper her darling wife.

Helaena did not care if her husband loved her or lived that long and often could not discern between friend or foe, so it fell on Aemond to be the shield who protects her from the rakes and Androw Farmans in the lists.

Being her favorite brother and the only one who cares about her wellbeing, was not an easy job, but only he could do it.

Aegon just wanted her married so their dear mama could stop trying to annul his marriage to Cassandra Baratheon.

Daeron was too young and believed the choice should fall on whoever Helaena liked.

Only Rhaenyra backed this scheme of his, horribly enough.

The Princess of Dragonstone is known for having a good eye for men, Ser Criston had grumbled bitterly ---not that Aemond cared to ask for context about his acrimonious feelings towards his elder sister.

She and Daemon would host the suitors in Dragonstone ---she was in confinement due to the imminent birth of her sixth child--- and send him the list of those whose characters they considered good enough for Helaena along with more profuse apologies from her brood of Strong Boys.

The one-eyed prince found himself forgiving Lucerys after the forty-ninth letter written about his guilt and wished to offer his own eye in recompense.

“Perhaps, number nine and forty will win your approval.” Helaena had said as they met this man whom their sister gave a glowing recommendation.

He dressed well, was a knight and a lord.

Lord (Y/N) (L/N) was also handsome, charming and not a piece of dragonshit, or so Daemon had assured him in his letter.

Perfect for my sweet Helaena, Rhaenyra had added in hers.

“You said the same thing about numbers one to eight and forty, mandia.” Aemond said as he eyed you like a horse being brought forth by the horse coursers yesterday.

As usual, the suitor takes great consideration in wooing his sister and trying to establish a sense of friendship with Aemond.

Unlike the rest, however, you take in consideration his likes and dislikes instead of assuming he is into whatever Aegon or the other rakes are into.

You are well-read, amiable, religious but not a zealot and, most importantly, you get along with Helaena like a house on fire.

“They are perfect for each other, don’t you agree?” mother tried her best to get Aemond to like you.

Too perfect.

And while he has become fond of you, dangerously fond of you, Aemond knows he is setting himself, no, his sister for a sure disappointment.

So one night Aemond decides it is time for Aegon’s test.

A test that consists on getting you drunk, asking questions and leave you in a brothel while both brothers come to a verdict.

You don’t drink much, but eventually you are drunk enough to sing a rather scandalous version of Seasons of My Love with him.

One where instead of a maid it is boy.

Aemond finds himself drunk enough to kiss you.

A mistake the both of you blame on the wine.

After all, Aemond is a prince and you are courting his sister.

“I apologize for my behavior, my lord, it won’t happen again.” He had said pretending it was just that. “But I see no reason to deny you my blessings to marry my sister.”

The kiss mean nothing, the prince tells himself even after finding out from Helaena that you prefer men over women and finds her as beautiful as her brother.

It means nothing, Aemond repeats even after he begins to remember how sweet it was.

He claims he feels nothing for you except friendship and yet the wedding day comes and Aemond feels pained enough to try and numb it with wine.

He should not have these feelings for you, he can’t, it goes against nature and the gods of his mother.

But he wants you, wants you in a way he has not wanted a woman or man before.

Aemond makes a toast and cannot keep his eyes away from yours, thinking it unfair that all the qualities he loves about you are on you, a man.

Not just any man, the man married to his favorite sister.

A man he has to pretend is merely a friend for the rest of their lives because the moment Queen Alicent finds out, they are dead.

Later that night, you find him absent-mindedly strumming a lute.

It’s your wedding night, and yet the ones enjoying the bridal chamber are Helaena and her Elissa going by the looks of it.

“Do you take any requests, your highness?” you ask coming to sit beside him.

A dangerous proximity, one where he cannot trust himself to run should his desires and feelings for you get the best of him again.

“Only if its you.” The prince said trying to keep his cool.

“Rather enjoyed that Myrish song the other night. I had hopes to ask for an encore.” You say, hiding your meaning well enough.

“Hmm, what would your bride say?” Aemond knew Helaena had given him the freedom to do as he pleases, but Aemond needs to hear you say it.

“She sees no reason to deny me her blessings to pursue you.” You answer and take advantage of his surprise to return the kiss.

This time it isn’t called a mistake nor blamed on the wine.

This time Aemond dares to do more than just kiss you.

#aemond x male!reader #bridgerton!au #this is for the gays #aemond targaryen x male!reader #hotd reader insert

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luv-lock · 3 months ago

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⸻ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ᴛ ʟ ᴇ ꜱ ɪ ꜱ ᴛ ᴇ ʀ ⸻

Pairing: Poly Aemon, Baelon and Alyssa x Targaryen Reader

Summary: They were your siblings. They loved you to their bones. They always been there, watching, protecting you, caring for you. It's only fair if they take you first, don't you think?

Warning: +18 contact, Minors DNA, Foursome, Fem on Fem, Targcest.

Notes: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The heat of the room was stifling, your skin glistening with sweat as you were trapped between your siblings’ bodies. The heady scent of arousal filled the air, a mixture of sweat and sex that made your mind spin. Baelon lay beneath you, his hands gripping your waist, as he thrust his hips between your legs. You were already so stretched and sore, your inner walls fluttering around him as you tried to adjust to the thick length inside of you.

“B-Baelon, it’s... t-too much,” you whimpered, your voice breaking with each desperate breath. Your words were met with a low, guttural laugh from him as he thrust up into you, filling you to the hilt.

Alyssa’s soft, comforting voice was the only tether you had in the whirlwind of sensation. “It’s alright, sweet sister,” she murmured, her fingers gently brushing away the tears that streaked your flushed cheeks. Her mouth was hot against yours, tongue coaxing you into a kiss that was both tender and all-consuming. “We’re here for you... we’ll take such good care of you.”

Your whimpers were muffled as Alyssa’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your mouth to her chest. Pinned between them, you were barely able to catch your breath. Alyssa, straddling Baelon’s face, let out soft moans as she ground her hips down, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Don’t worry, darling,” she purred. “Just focus on me. Let them do all the hard work.” She guided your lips to her nipple, her voice soft and soothing as if she were trying to comfort you. “That’s it, good girl… suck on my tits while our brothers take care of you.”

You obediently took her breast into your mouth, your lips closing around the stiff peak as tears welled in your eyes. The sensation of Aemon slowly pushing into your other entrance sent shivers up your spine. His cock was thick, and every inch felt like it was splitting you apart. You gasped against Alyssa’s skin, your muffled cries vibrating through her chest.

Alyssa smiled down at you, cupping your cheek as she looked into your teary eyes. “You’re doing so well for your first time, my sweet,” she whispered. “I know it’s a lot, but you can handle it. We’re all here to take care of you, aren’t we?” Her words were soft, but the glint in her eyes was anything but gentle.

Aemon’s hands tightened around your hips, pressing you further down onto him until he was buried to the hilt inside your tightest hole. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned, his voice thick with lust. “Relax, little one… just breathe. I want to feel you loosen up around me.” He reached around to play with your swollen clit, the overstimulation making your back arch and your mouth pull away from Alyssa’s breast as you cried out.

“N-no more,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding through you. Your entire body was trembling, the pleasure almost too much to bear. “Please… I c-can’t—”

“Hush now,” Baelon interrupted, his voice a low growl as he thrust up into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot that made your vision blur. “You can and you will. We’ve only just started, sweet sister. We’ve waited so long for this… for you.” He punctuated his words with deep, steady thrusts, making you mewl pathetically.

Alyssa’s lips were on yours again, her kiss fervent and possessive as she swallowed your desperate moans. “You’re ours, my love,” she cooed against your mouth, her voice a soft murmur of sweet poison. “Just let go… let us have you.”

Pinned between the relentless thrusts of Baelon beneath you and Aemon behind you, you were utterly helpless. Alyssa’s hands caressed your body, her fingers gently tracing the marks left by her brothers. The sight of you, so thoroughly debauched, sent shivers of delight through her. “Look at you,” she whispered, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “So beautiful, so perfect for us.”

Aemon’s movements became more urgent, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounded into you from behind. “Gods, you’re so tight… you’re squeezing me like you don’t want to let go,” he groaned, his voice rough with barely contained need. “Do you hear how wet you are? How much you love this?”

Your moans turned to broken sobs as your body betrayed you, every nerve on fire. “I-I can’t… I’m so full, please… I can’t take anymore,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks. But even as you begged, your body was clamping down on them, your walls spasming around Baelon and Aemon as if desperate to keep them inside.

Alyssa’s fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at her through your teary eyes. “Oh, but you can,” she whispered with a smile, her eyes gleaming with delight. “You’re doing so well, little sister… just a bit more. You’ll take everything we give you, won’t you?”

“Yes, y-yes… just please…” Your voice was barely a whisper, broken and pleading as you tried to catch your breath.

Baelon’s thrusts became more erratic, his cock pulsing inside you as he chased his release. “That’s it, take it, take all of it,” he grunted, his grip on your hips bruising as he held you down.

Aemon’s hips slammed into you one last time as he spilled deep inside you, his hot seed filling your already overwhelmed body. You could feel it leaking out even as Baelon followed, his own release flooding your core. Alyssa held you close, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered sweet nothings, her fingers tenderly wiping away your tears.

“There now,” Alyssa cooed, her voice soft and soothing as your trembling body tried to recover from the onslaught. “See? You did it, my sweet. You were perfect.”

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

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pixii33 · 5 months ago

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐲 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Serial Killer Aegon x Victim Reader

Summary: you just wanted to enjoy the night with your best friend and getting fucked. But what was waiting for you was much more scary than anything you had ever expected...

Warning: kidnapping, blood, abuse, unwanted touch, murder.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Original Gif by @lady-alicent ♡

The mirror gleamed back at Y/N as she carefully applied the finishing touches to her makeup, the sleek red dress clinging to her curves in all the right ways. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, the silky strands catching the light of the vanity. Tonight, she was going to be unstoppable. On speaker, her best friend Emily's voice filled the room, excitement buzzing between them as they planned their night out.

"Girl, I swear, tonight's the night. I will get laid" Emily laughed, the sound infectious, pulling a giggle from Y/N.

"Are you sure, though? You've been talking about this for weeks. Are you finally going to get with Tom?" Y/N teased, brushing some highlighter across her cheekbones.

"Hell yeah! I'm gonna fuck his brains out!" Emily declared dramatically, causing both of them to erupt into laughter. "But what about you? Don't think I didn't see how Oliver was staring at you last time. That man is ready to risk it all."

Y/N smirked, lining her lips with a deep crimson. "Oh, Oliver won't know what hit him tonight" she winked at herself in the mirror, confident. "By the end of this party, he's going to be begging."

Emily cackled, making another inappropriate joke that had Y/N snorting, her mascara brush shaking slightly in her hand. "God, Emily, you're gonna make me mess up my makeup."

"I cant help it, you're gonna make himー"

Suddenly, Y/N froze mid-laugh. In the corner of her eye, she caught something ーa shadow shiftingby the window, just out of her line of sight. Her heart skipped, an eerie prickle crawling up her spine.

"What's wrong?" Emily's voice came through the phone, concern creeping into her playful tone.

Y/N blinked, her eyes darting around the room. Everything was still. Quiet. The only sound was Emily's distant voice on the phone. She let out a breath, forcing smile as if it could push away the unease settling in her gut. "Nothing, I just thought I saw something."

"Probably just your nerves. You've got Oliver on the brain too much!" Emily teased, bringing the conversation back to its lightheartedness.

"Yeah, you're right," Y/N muttered, trying to shake off the strange feeling. She continued applying her makeup, but every now and then, her gaze flicked back to the window. That uneasy chill hadn't left, a quiet whisper in her mind that something wasn't quite right. But it was probably nothing.

At least, that's what she told herself.

The night was pitch black, the only light coming from the dim glow of Y/N’s headlights as they cut through the lonely, desolate road. Trees stretched out on either side, their branches twisting together to form a canopy of shadows. The once lively conversation with Emily had died down to a nervous exchange of directions as Y/N found herself completely lost in the maze of unfamiliar back roads.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Y/N asked, her voice tight with frustration, gripping the wheel a little too hard. The GPS had stopped working a while ago, leaving her utterly reliant on Emily’s instructions.

“I swear, Y/N, it’s the right way! Just keep going straight, and you’ll see a sign soon, I promise,” Emily’s voice reassured her, though it did little to calm the rising anxiety bubbling in her chest.

Straight. That’s all she had to do. But the road seemed endless, stretching out in front of her like a void, each passing second growing thicker with unease. Y/N glanced around, her stomach flipping as the dark woods loomed over her. It felt like something was watching from the trees.

"Emily, I don’t see anything—" Y/N began, but her words were cut off in a scream as a figure suddenly appeared from the darkness, leaping in front of her car.

THUD.

The impact jolted her entire body forward, the screech of brakes cutting through the stillness as the car skidded to a halt. Y/N’s heart was racing, pounding so hard she could barely breathe. The world outside was silent again, but the deafening thud of the hit echoed in her ears, over and over.

“Y/N? Y/N! What the hell just happened?!” Emily’s voice was frantic, but Y/N barely heard her.

She stared ahead, wide-eyed, her hands trembling on the wheel. What just happened? Did I hit him? Did I just… kill someone?

Her throat was dry as she swallowed, trying to steady herself. "I… I think I hit someone. I’m not sure." Her voice was shaky, barely above a whisper.

“What?! Are you okay?! What happened?” Emily’s voice was nearly drowned out by the ringing in Y/N’s ears, her panic rising with every passing second. Y/N’s hands moved to unbuckle her seatbelt, her body feeling as if it was moving on autopilot. "I need to check. I’ll call you back."

“What? No, wait—” Y/N hung up, her mind spinning with terror as she opened the door and stepped out into the suffocating darkness. The wind was cool, but her skin prickled with cold sweat. The night was unnaturally quiet, save for the rapid beating of her heart in her ears.

Her eyes landed on the crumpled figure lying in the road just ahead, and her stomach lurched. She could barely see him in the dim light of her car’s headlights, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. Every instinct screamed for her to run, but her feet moved forward, her breath shallow.

She knelt beside the man, her hands trembling as she reached out. "Hey… Hey, are you okay?" Her voice cracked, almost pleading. She shook his shoulder gently, her breath catching in her throat. Please don’t be dead. Please, God, don’t be dead.

He didn’t respond, his body limp. Y/N’s heart plummeted. For a horrifying moment, she thought she’d killed him. I hit him, I really hit him. What if he’s dead? What if I—

But then she noticed it—his chest, rising and falling slowly. He was still breathing.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, a wave of relief crashing over her. "Oh, thank God…" she muttered, her hands moving to check for any sign of consciousness. "Hey, can you hear me? You’re gonna be okay, I’ll get you help. Just hang on."

Her voice was trembling as she stood, rushing back to the car to grab her phone. Her hands fumbled with the door handle, her pulse pounding in her ears. She had to call for help. Get him to the hospital.

But just as she reached into the car for her phone, something hard and solid slammed into the back of her head.

Pain exploded through her skull, white-hot and blinding. Her vision blurred instantly, the world spinning as her body crumpled to the ground. Her mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening, but all she could register was the unbearable, crushing pain.

She tried to blink away the darkness closing in around her, her breaths ragged and desperate, but the force of the blow had knocked her senses loose. Through the dizzy haze, she saw him—the man she had just hit, standing above her with a rock in his hand. The sickening realization crashed into her like a freight train.

It was a trap.

Her heart raced, adrenaline surging through her, but her limbs felt heavy, numb. She wanted to scream, to fight, but her vision was dimming, the pain dragging her under. The last thing she saw before everything went black was the man’s cold, emotionless face, looming over her as she slipped into the abyss.

Y/N's consciousness flickered like a dying flame, dragging her unwillingly from the void. The pain in her head was the first thing she registered-an unbearable, spliting agony that pulsed in time with her heartbeat, making her feel like her skull was about to crack open. She groaned, but the sound came out muffled, trapped behind something in her mouth. Panic started to set in as she realized she couldn't open her jaw; the taste of dirty fabric filled her mouth. A gag.

Disoriented, she blinked slowly, trying to make sense of where she was. Her vision was blurry, her surroundings a nauseating haze of darkness and shadow. Everything reeked. The stench hit her all at once- thick, putrid, suffocating. It was a mix of urine, sweat, blood, and something far more decayed. The smell clawed at the back of her throat, making her gag against the cloth. She fought back the urge to vomit, knowing it would only choke her.

Her body felt... wrong. Heavy. Aching. Every muscle was sore, every inch of her skin stung with a dull, throbbing pain. When she tried to move, she realized why: she was tied up. Her arms were bound tightly behind her back, the coarse rope biting into her wrists and cutting off circulation. Her legs were bound too, her ankles tied together so tightly she could barely wiggle her toes.

Where the hell am I? The last thing she remembered was... the man. The man she had hit. Her heart jumped into her throat, the memory rushing back to her all at once一the impact, the body on the road, the moment of relief when she realized he was still breathing. And then... then he had attacked her. Everything went black after that. And now I'm here.

Her breath quickened as she took in her surroundings. The room was small, cramped, with walls so grimy she could barely tell their original color. Blood smeared the walls in splatters and streaks, both fresh and old, the sickening reminder of whatever horrors had taken place here before. There were stains on the floor, dark, sticky patches that made her skin crawl. And then she noticed the other things一flesh, torn and hanging like trophies from hooks. Bones, carelessly strewn on the floor, cracked and splintered. She wanted to scream, but the gag silenced her, the terror building in her chest until it felt like she might suffocate on it.

But she wasn't alone.

In the dim light, she saw them-other women. At least five of them, maybe more. All of them were bound like her, gagged, naked, their bodies bruised and filthy. Some of them were barely conscious, their heads lolling weakly, while others stared at her with wide, terrified eyes. There was something about their expressions that sent ice shooting down her spine-those hollow, desperate eyes, like animals resigned to their fate.

One of them, a woman with tear-streaked cheeks and a gag so tight it had rubbed her mouth raw, met Y/N's gaze. She shook her head slowly, almost imperceptibly, her eyes full of warning. It was as if she was trying to tell her something, something Y/N didn't yet understand. Don't move. Don't fight. Don't make a sound.

But Y/N wasn't like them. She couldn't just sit here and wait to die. Fear surged through her veins, but so did adrenaline. She had to get out. I have to get out.

Slowly, carefully, she began to squirm, trying to shift her weight without making too much noise. Every movement was agonyーher wrists felt like they were being sliced open by the ropes, and her muscles screamed in protest. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. If she stayed here, she was dead.

As she inched her way toward the door, the other women watched her, their eyes filling with fresh tears, their bodies trembling as they silently begged her stop. But she couldn't stop. She had to get free. She had to.

The closer she got to the door, the more hope flickered inside her-until she fell. Her hands slipped, and her body hit the floor with a dull thud. She landed in something wet and slimy, the smell assaulting her senses immediately. It was a disgusting mix of rotting food, excrement, and something else- something thick and foul that clung to her skin and made her gag. Her stomach churned violently, the bile rising in her throat, but she swallowed it down, focusing on the door just a few feet away.

But then the door creaked open.

The sound was slow, deliberate, and it filled the room like a death knell, Y/N froze, her heart hammering in her chest, her body tensing as the dim light from the hall spilled into the room.

He stepped inside.

The man. The same man she had hit with her car. He stood in the doorway, his silhouette tall and menacing, his face twisted into a sickening grin. His eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on Y/N, his expression darkened. Rage boiled just beneath the surface of his face, twisting his features into something monstrous.

"What do we have here?" he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Before Y/N could even try to scramble away, he was on her. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her up, dragging her across the filthy floor as she screamed against the gag. Pain shot through her scalp, white-hot and unbearable, but the terror that gripped her heart was even worse. He was going to kill her. He was going to kill her right now.

"You stupid, stupid girl" he hissed, his voice thick with venom as he dragged her back to where she'd been. "You thought you could just leave? You thought you could escape?" He threw her down onto the cold floor, kicking her hard in the stomach for good measure.

The breath was knocked from her lungs, and for a moment, everything went dark. She gasped for air, her body convulsing in pain, but she couldn't get enough oxygen. Her vision blurred, her mind spinning with fear and panic. This is it. I'm going to die.

"You should be thankful l'm not going to punish you further;" he spat, kneeling down beside her, his breath hot and rancid against her face. "You're new. I'm feeling generous today."

Y/N's body shook uncontrollably as she lay there, too weak and terrified to move. But then, just as quickly as the anger had come, his expression changed. The rage melted away, replaced by something far more sinister. His hand, still tangled in her hair, began to stroke her scalp gently, his voice softening as if he hadn't just brutalized her.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, his tone dripping with faux concern. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You just made me so... angry. it's your fault, you know? If you hadn't tried to leave.." His fingers trailed down her neck, his touch lingering on her skin as he murmured, "You're so beautiful. So.. perfect."

"Soft," he murmured, as though admiring the texture of fabric instead of skin. He leaned in closer, inhaling deeply as he buried his face in her hair, his breath warm and sickening against her skin. "You smell so good... You're going to make the perfect doll."

Y/N's mind spun with confusion and horror. Doll? What did that mean? She wanted to scream, to thrash and fight, but her body felt like it was frozen, paralyzed by fear and exhaustion. Her tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks as she trembled beneath his touch.

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as his hand slid lower, caressing her naked body with possessive, almost reverent strokes. His fingers traced the curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips. He was taking his time, savoring the touch, the control, the power. Y/N felt sick, her stomach twisting in knots as she lay there, helpless, her mind screaming for it to stop. But she couldn't Scream. She couldn't move.

"You're going to be perfect" he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "Just... perfect."

She wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and never exist again. But all she could do was lie there, paralyzed by fear and disgust, as he continued to touch her. His hands roamed over her body, his breath hot and heavy against her skin. Every touch felt like fire, burning into her flesh, marking her. She could feel his excitement, his anticipation, and it made her want to vomit.

Then, suddenly, he stood up.

“Not today" he said, smiling down at her with a look of twisted affection. "Today isn't your day."

Y/N's stomach lurched as she realized what he meant. Not her day. But soon. Her tears blurred her vision, her entire body shaking uncontrollably as she tried to scream through the gag. She couldn't stop the sob that broke through, muffled but desperate.

He laughed softly, brushing her hair out of her face with a gentleness that felt like a mockery of kindness. "Shhh" he cooed, "don't cry. You'll ruin your pretty face. And I love your face."

Before she knows it, the man turned his attention to one of the other women-a blonde who had been sitting silently in the corner, her eyes wide with terror. Without a word, he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her to her feet with a sickening cruelty. The woman's body convulsed in terror, her eyes filling with tears as she let out a muffled scream behind her gag.

She struggled weakly, her limbs trembling, but it was no use. He dragged her toward the door, pulling her like a rag doll, her body limp with fear. She was looking at her. Like a lamb. Wide eyes. Begging for help. But Y/N couldn't do anything.

Y/N watched in horror as the door slammed shut behind them. The remaining women in the room sobbed softly, the sound of their crying mixing with Y/N's own frantic breaths.

Then the noise began.

The sound of metal on flesh, a sharp, wet thwack followed by a crunch that made Y/N's blood run cold. The woman's faint cries echoed through the walls, but they were quickly drowned out by the sickening sound of the ax splitting flesh and bone. The rhythm was steady, methodical, like someone chopping wood ーonly it wasn't wood. lt was human.

Y/N closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. All she could do was wait, knowing that soon... it would be her turn.

Should I make a part 2?

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

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0silver0dreams0 · 4 months ago

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✦✧ Masterlist ✧✦

"Whispers of Devotion" ✦ In a world torn apart by love, loyalty, and obsession, (Your Name) finds herself reborn as the youngest daughter of Queen Alicent and King Viserys Targaryen. Once a modern soul, she is now trapped in a fragile body, caught in the crossfire of a deadly rivalry between the Queen and Princess Rhaenyra. What begins as innocent affection from those around her soon twists into a dangerous obsession. With each passing year, (Your Name) feels the grip of those who claim to love her tightening around her throat. ✧

| Storyline | | Headcanons |

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bumblesimagines · 6 months ago

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Blood of The Dragon

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Still reeling from the death of Lucerys Velaryon and the failed assassination attempt that resulted in the death of Jaehaerys, Aemond seeks out his closest kin.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical HOTD warnings, spoilers for S2, brief Targcest (Older Brother-Younger Brother), (Y/N) is the twin of Helaena, mentions of the deaths of children (Luke and Jaehaerys), blatant manipulation but Aemond is touch-starved so, potentially ooc Aemond im still figuring out how to write him, kinda short

WFMF may take a bit to come out y'all! I'm waiting to get my hands on the book again so I can finally decide if/what I'll change from the show and what I'll keep.

~~~

Aemond scarcely paid the Small Council meeting any heed, his gaze shifting between staring at his brother's exhausted, dead-eyed expression and studying the golden coin pinched between his thumb and index finger. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the design etched into the coin and felt a strike of dread squeeze around his throat. The coin continuously served as a reminder of how close Daemon's vermin had been to stealing the air from his lungs, and how cruelly they'd taken his little nephew's head instead.

Aegon looked ruined, his anger and grief coaxing him into sinking further and further into his cups until he could no longer comprehend the words fleeing his mouth. Aemond found it pathetic most days, for the 'rightful' heir to be a whiny drunk, but now he found it in himself to be sympathetic toward him. Aemond knew little of losing a child but the death of an innocent child he watched grow up still struck pain in his gut. He never expected their older half-sister to be so cruel.

With the meeting ending swiftly after reaching nothing new or useful, Aemond retreated from the room in long strides that took him down the many halls of the Keep. His thoughts continued in circles, reminding him of young Luke and the horror that'd washed over him when he watched Vhagar snap her jaws around him and his dragon. The younger dragon had fallen to bloody bits from the sky and into the vast ocean below, washing up on a beach or so he'd heard. He hadn't desired such an outcome but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears when everyone whispered 'Kinslayer' behind his back.

Before he knew it, his legs had taken him to his older sister's room and he entered with some hesistance, unsure of what he could possibly say or do that'd ease the pain of losing a child. He immediately spotted Helaena seated on the floor with her skirt spread around her and her hands occupied with finishing an embroidery. Her fingers moved automatically, muscle memory from all the times she'd spent doing needlework. Her pale eyes remained distant, however, and red from constant weeping. Aemond always knew Helaena to be the most sensitive out of all his children but he'd never seen her cry before.

"Aemond," Helaena's twin, (Y/N), greeted him, his head tilted downwards from his spot on the couch as he brushed out the knots in Helaena's hair until her silver hair was smooth and detangled enough to braid. He set the brush aside and began braiding, a process he'd long become acquainted with when young Helaena refused to be touched by the maids. "Do you require something?"

"I wished to see how our sister was doing," Aemond replied and clasped his hands behind his back, grimacing when his words brought no reaction out of their sister. She'd always been a girl of little words but she never failed to at least offer acknowledgment with short words or glances. Helaena merely continued to thread her needle through the fabric.

"She is tired, Aemond. We all are." (Y/N) spoke, finishing the braid and letting it rest along Helaena's back. He leaned forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to the top of her head, his hands sliding down to cup her elbows and help her rise onto her swaying feet. Aemond made no move to offer his help, for he knew it'd be rejected whilst Helaena remained in such a state.

Aemond lowered his gaze to the floor and stepped aside, his head bowed as (Y/N) led Helaena to her bed and helped tug the covers up to her waist. He offered quiet words of comfort before peeling himself from the edge of the bed and approaching Aemond, casting him a brief glance as the two stepped outside.

(Y/N) lingered until the doors to her bedchambers shut and the guards resumed their positions, his arms folding over his chest and face unreadable, as was typical of his brother. The twins had always been an unpredictable sort, no one ever truly deciphering what went through their minds. Aemond found it troubling at times, being unable to read him as he did Aegon, but he trusted him regardless.

"Where was Cole, I wonder." (Y/N) simply said, his feet moving and voice devoid of everything but a flicker of annoyance that tugged Aemond's attention toward him. The one-eyed prince caught up with his older brother in quick strides, the direction they headed in being toward (Y/N)'s own chambers.

"He claimed to be abed." (Y/N)'s lips pressed into a line at his response. Aemond's brow twitched upward. "Cole is-"

"Cole is but a child surrounded by toys yet desires the prettiest one, one that belongs to another and should never be allowed into his foolish hands." His brother looked him directly in the eye when the doors to his chambers were opened for him, violet eyes as cold as ever. "He is pathetic."

Aemond swiped his tongue over his dry lips and followed his brother inside the room, his fingers tightening around his wrist. "Do you speak of Ser Criston... or me, dear brother?" He asked once the doors shut, leaving them in the silence of (Y/N)'s bedchambers, the air as chilly as the attitude of the older Targaryen. (Y/N) scoffed quietly and poured himself tea that'd no doubt gone tepid in his absence. "Have I not served our King faithfully enough?"

The prettily decorated teapot clattered against the wood of the table it'd sat upon, (Y/N)'s head raising to stare at Aemond. "Ao tymptan Jaes se vēttan aōla iā mittys." Aemond could hear the anger in his tone, barely contained but somehow pushed back to slowly drip through. "The boy you needlessly slaughtered was no Velaryon but he was our sister's child. Īlva ānogar. They killed Jaehaerys to avenge that child, Aemond. Helaena paid the consequences of your actions."

"Would you have preferred they kill me instead, then?" Aemond bristled.

"I would have preferred hearing of your success at Storm's End and how the princeling returned to Dragonstone without an alliance." (Y/N) snapped back, curling his fingers around his teacup and sipping from its contents. Aemond inhaled deeply, his jaw clenching and unclenching; teeth slowly grinding together and the tension in his shoulders easing into a sag.

Aemond walked forward, his hand lifting to tug the eyepatch from his face and letting it fall onto the table as he took a seat. (Y/N) followed his movements with keen eyes and a deep frown, one of the few times his brother so outwardly showed his disapproval toward him. They stared at each other for a few quiet moments, the coin searing a hole through Aemond's pocket.

"I only meant to frighten him. I did not wish such harm upon him; I did not want him dead or gravelly injured. I... feel sorry for how things occurred between him and I. I did not... I did not mean to bring pain upon Helaena or Aegon." Aemond leaned forward, broad hands pressing into the back of (Y/N)'s thighs to pull him closer gently whilst his forehead rested along his lower stomach. He exhaled softly when (Y/N) placed his palm upon the back of Aemond's head, fingers running through his hair. "I allowed foolish emotions to best me."

"Foolish emotions you've stewed in for years, Aemond. You are man-grown and a prince... a third-born son who will never sit the throne." His nostrils flared with a sharp inhale of air and he leaned away, back pressing into the chair and lips pressing tightly together. (Y/N) watched him, palm pressing back the strands that went astray with his movements before he curled his fingers around Aemond's chin and forced him to keep his head tilted upwards. "I am the King's heir, now that they've killed our poor nephew, just as you killed the other. Aegon had potential, Aemond, whether you believe it or not."

"He is a drunk-"

"Yes, but he pleased the smallfolk before sinking into his cups. They were happy and eager to accept him as their ruler. He will now ignore them, and with the ever-impulsive Cole at his side... it will not be long before we are ruined by one or the other, Aemond." (Y/N)'s thumb delicately stroked along his cheek, his eyes softening but the coldness tittering at the edges. Aemond leaned into his touch, his knitted brows easing as he soaked in the words of his brother.

"Aegon cannot rule, and neither can Cole," Aemond murmured, pressing himself further into (Y/N)'s hand when his brother gave a nod. "What is it you believe we must do?"

"Rook's Nest. Our sister will not be allowed to turn her cheek away when Cole and Uncle's army descends upon it, and neither will Aegon. He desires to prove himself, you've seen it. He'll try to in battle... and when he does, he must.. fall to injury. Vhagar knows the taste of war, and with you as her rider, Cole will have no choice but to ignore whatever it is you do. The Council will favor me over Mother as regent whilst Aegon recovers."

"And what will you do once you are named Prince Regent?"

(Y/N)'s lips curled upward and he bent down, both hands cupping Aemond's face to press their lips together. The action caught him by surprise, but the twinge of longing for a loving hand shot through his veins. The teachings from the septas and maesters told him it was wrong, but Targaryens were no ordinary men; the blood of the dragon coursed through them. Aemond pushed into him, rising from his chair to encircle his arms around (Y/N)'s waist. (Y/N)'s grip tightened and he forced Aemond to lean back.

"You... will be named Hand." (Y/N) told him, and Aemond's shoulders straightened, his single violet eye gleaming. He'd always be meant for such a position, and as much as Cole had been a father to him, he was still the mere son of a steward; someone hardly meant for the position of Hand.

(Y/N)'s grip loosened into a gentle touch, coaxing Aemond to lean into it once more. "I will not risk the fall of this family, Aemond, not like this. Enough of our sacred blood has been spilled. I will do what our mother and brother and grandsire failed to do. If Rhaenyra has withheld as much as she has in search of peace, I will test how desperate she is to obtain it."

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gulnarsultan · 2 months ago

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Could you do a fic where aemond is yandere for his Tyrell wife who is like a more innocent and naive Margery but is equally as sharped tongued but without thinking about it. And how she is view as the most beautiful woman in Westeros and all the lords that once wanted her hand in marriage still fond over her even after she married aemond, and it doesn’t help that she seems to only be able to have healthy strong sons. Like her and aemond already got like 6 boys and she prego with the next and surprise surprise it’s another boy!

Hello dear. I hope you like it.

》 Sapphire and Rose 《

Many Lords were jealous of Prince Aemond. Prince Aemond had the most beautiful and fertile woman in Westeros. Lady Tyrell had many nicknames. Rose of Highgarden, the most beautiful and intelligent woman in Westeros, the woman blessed with a fertile womb. These were just a few of the nicknames. When Lady Tyrell reached the age of marriage, many Lords began competing to marry her. However, no one thought that Prince Aemond would have this beauty. The wedding of Prince Aemond and Lady Tyrell was very lavish and expensive. Prince Aemond was a possessive, protective, obsessive and jealous husband. After their wedding, Lady Tyrell rarely left their shared room. In fact, she was a sweet and obedient wife to her husband. Lady Tyrell can also be sharp-tongued when necessary, and she is not afraid to defend herself and her family with her words. Their marriage was blessed with six truly healthy sons. All of the children had inherited the Targaryen genes of their father Aemond. Lady Tyrell had become pregnant for the seventh time and given birth to another baby boy. This baby, like his brothers before his, had inherited the Targaryen genes. The man who was most jealous of this situation was undoubtedly Lord Borros Baratheon. He had been among the men who had wanted to marry Lady Tyrell in the past. News of each new Prince was salt in Barros's wounds. The fact that he had only four daughters had crushed his honor and pride. And the fact that the one-eyed Prince had seven male heirs made Barros' blood boil with jealousy. Prince Aemond was very vain about his sweet wife and the children they had together. He was not shy about showing off his chest in front of everyone.

#yandere game of thrones #house targaryen #yandere aemond targaryen #yandere aemond x reader #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere house of the dragon x reader #yandere asoiaf #yandere male #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader

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slavicdelight · 1 year ago

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The High Tower and the Dragon's Heir

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x male!Targ!reader

Summary: Lady Alicent Hightower was the closest friend of Princess Rhaenyra, yet she couldn't help but fall for her older brother, Y/N.

Warnings: none, following canon divergence

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Alicent Hightower gracefully strolled the corridors of the illustrious Red Keep, her morning lessons with her inseparable companion, Princess Rhaenyra, having just concluded. The echoes of footsteps accompanied her every stride as she made her way towards the luncheon appointment with her father, Ser Otto Hightower, the King's Hand. The castle bursted with vibrant activity—servants hurriedly carried out their duties, knights stood in vigilant postures, and nobles engaged in animated conversations, exchanging the latest court gossip.

As she ascended a majestic staircase, the voice of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Westerling, reached her ears. With a soft smile, Alicent reciprocated the courteous greeting. The anticipation of her father's chambers lingered in the air as she approached, each step echoing with the weight of her familial responsibilities.

However, the routine of her morning took an unexpected turn when, just before she reached the sanctum of her father, a sudden force collided with her, threatening to send her sprawling. A gasp escaped her lips, but before the cold stone floor could meet her, strong and reassuring hands prevented her from falling. These hands belonged to none other than Y/N Targaryen, the eldest son of the reigning monarch, King Viserys.

In that fleeting moment of unexpected encounter, the bustling ambiance of the Red Keep faded into the background. Alicent found herself lost in his gaze. The air crackled with an unspoken tension, and as Y/N steadied her with an effortless strength, Alicent's heart quickened, realizing that even in the most predictable corridors, destiny had an uncanny way of intertwining lives in an unexpected matter.

"Oh my, Lady Alicent. I'm so sorry; I didn't notice you," the young Prince expressed with a charming smile, nearly as enchanting as the prince himself. His gaze held a hypnotic quality that left Alicent momentarily flustered. Deep down, she possessed an immense fondness for him, but the fear of rejection and the potential repercussions from his younger sister stopped her from ever expressing them.

"No, my Prince. It was I who should've been more careful," Alicent nervously replied, her voice betraying a subtle hint of admiration. The unspoken tension between them lingered in the air. Her father's disapproval of the prince added a layer of complexity to the situation. Otto Hightower believed him to be the same as his uncle, Prince Daemon, hence the mutual hostility.

"Were you heading to your father, perhaps?" the prince inquired, his curiosity evident. Alicent hesitated, aware of the strained relationship between her father, Ser Otto Hightower, and the prince. Otto's opinions about Y/N's fitness for becoming king often clashed with the prince's aspirations.

"Yes, my prince," Alicent replied cautiously, choosing her words with care. The prince graciously took a step back, allowing her to continue her journey towards her father's chambers.

"Then do not let me stop you," he said with a small, understanding smile, his gaze lingering for a moment before gracefully descending the stairs, resuming his own path through the corridors of the Red Keep. That brief encounter, had left Lady Alicent soft in her knees.

Entering the Hand's chambers, Alicent immediately noticed her father seated at the table, a large variety of dishes laid out. She greeted him respectfully and took her place on the opposite side. "Alicent," he acknowledged with a nod, his eyes shining with a mix of sternness and affection. "How was your morning?" he inquired, motioning her to being eating.

"It was fine. I studied with the Princess the whole morning after breaking fast with her and Queen Aemma," Alicent replied, offering a light summary of her activities. The mention of encountering Prince Y/N on her way to her father's chambers prompted a subtle change in his demeanor. His brow lifted, and a stern look accompanied his response. "Prince Y/N is not a good influence. I advise you to avoid him," he coldly said, his voice carrying a weight of disapproval as Alicent cast her gaze downward. "Very well, father," she agreed, and the remainder of their lunch unfolded in a heavy silence.

As Alicent's thoughts drifted back to the violet-eyed prince, she couldn't comprehend her father's disdain for him. In her eyes, he was gallant and the epitome of a perfect prince. The unspoken tension between father and daughter lingered, leaving Alicent with a sense of conflict between her loyalty to her father and a growing curiosity about Y/N.

A fortnight later, the joyous occasion of a tournament took place in order to celebrate the King's anticipated new heir gripped the Red Keep. Nobles from far and wide were invited, marking the event as a grand affair. Queen Aemma, began her labours early in the morning, enduring the suffering alone, as King Viserys presided over the jousting festivities. Prince Daemon, displaying exceptional skills, unseated Alicent's brother Gwayne from his horse.

Victorious, the Prince then diverted his attention towards the stands where Alicent sat. With a charming smile, he asked for her favor, stating, "Lady Alicent, I'm sure your favor would ensure my victory today." Casting a fleeting glance at her father, Alicent handed Daemon her favor. Unbeknownst to her, a certain prince of the crown observed the exchange with a glare and a clenched jaw.

The joy of the tournament swiftly gave way to a somber hush when a messenger arrived bearing the tragic news of Queen Aemma's death. The atmosphere within the Red Keep became grim, mournful mood reigned for weeks. The funeral, held on a distant hill, marked a solemn occasion where the lifeless forms of the Queen and the young Prince lay upon the pyre, awaiting the embrace of dragonfire from Syrax and Shadowspine, the loyal companions of the Queen's surviving children.

Following the ceremony, Alicent found herself once again in her father's chambers, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. "How is Rhaenyra?" her father inquired, slight concern etched across his face. Alicent, her fingers idly picking at her fingers, replied, "She just lost her mother." The sorrow that lingered in her words mirrored the collective grief that shrouded the entire Keep.

Not being one to hide his ambitions, her father suggested, "Perhaps you would like to offer the King some comfort. Losing a wife is a terrible thing. He would surely rejoice in a visit." Alicent reluctantly agreed to undertake this solemn task, driven by her desire to please her father. As she turned to leave, she overheard her father's additional instruction, his voice low and laden with subtle implication—indicating that she should dress herself in one of her late mother's gowns.

Rather than heading to the King's chambers as initially intended, Alicent found herself standing before the doors that guarded Prince Y/N's residence. A guard announced her presence, and she entered, greeted by a scene of disarray. The room resembled the aftermath of a storm—furniture upended, decorations scattered in chaotic way. Amidst the disorder, she discovered her prince, seated on the floor, his back against the bed stand, his once-silky hair now tangled, and his eyes holding a haunted look. The scent of alcohol lingered in the air.

Taking a seat beside the prince, Alicent met his gaze, prompting him to question her presence with a strained voice, revealing the results of earlier screams. "I came here to see how you're holding up, my Prince," she replied calmly, her eyes scanning the wreckage around them. He only scoffed in response.

Drawing on her own experiences, Alicent shared, "When my own mother died, people looked at me with pity. I didn't want it. All I wanted was to hear they were sorry." Her empathetic words hung in the air, and she continued, "I'm so sorry for your loss, my Prince," concluding her condolences with a soft look, her eyes reflecting genuine compassion. Y/N stared at her in silence, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, as he began to unveil the weight of his heartache.

"My father's quest for a second son is to blame for this tragedy. He never considered me worthy of the throne," he confessed, his voice full of bitterness and sorrow. "He wished for another son, a better son. One he could put on the throne after himself. I was never enough. Rhaenyra wasn't enough. He killed my mother for a new heir. And now, my brother is also dead," he uttered.

Alicent's heart ached for him, the immensity of his suffering echoing through the confessions. Despite already bearing the responsibilities of being the Heir, this added layer of tragedy made the burden almost unbearable. In her earnest attempt to offer solace, she stood by both Y/N and Princess Rhaenyra, a pillar of support during these dark times.

As Y/N was officially declared Heir before the realm, Alicent stood steadfastly by his side, witnessing the unfolding of destiny. She remained present during the uncomfortable prospect of their father's remarriage, understanding the siblings hesitation. The more time they spent together, the threads of friendship between Alicent and Y/N began to intertwine with the delicate threads of love.

When the time came for the Prince to choose a wife, he declared his intent to marry Lady Alicent, much to Rhaenyra's dismay. While Viserys rejoiced in the prospect, Otto, though reluctantly, agreed to the union. Though not a fervent supporter of the Prince, Otto recognized the strategic significance—marrying his daughter to the future king ensured the placement of his bloodline on the throne.

The union of Alicent and Y/N was immortalized in what became known as the White Wedding. It was a testament to the pure and evident love that bound the newlyweds. The ceremony resonated with the harmonious union of two souls, their vows exchanged amidst the sacred walls of the Sept.

Shorty after their nuptials, the arrival of Aegon Targaryen marked a new chapter in the royal family. The beautiful boy, with the coloring of his father and the distinctive facial structure of his mother, embodied the perfect mix of the royal couple. Aegon, the newest Prince, became a living testament to the love that flourished within the Targaryen lineage.

As Alicent carried the weight of their second child, King Viserys sought to hold a celebratory hunt on his grandson Aegon's second name day. The relationships within the Targaryen family began to mend, albeit slowly, and the noticeable favoritism towards Rhaenyra, perhaps due to her resemblance to her late mother, didn't escape Y/N's notice. Despite the slight discomfort, he chose to focus on his growing family, diverting his attention away from the nuances of favoritism and concentrating on the joyous moments that bound them together.

The grand hunt orchestrated by King Viserys brought a sense of delight to Otto Hightower, who relished the opportunity for both entertainment and strategic alliances. The men, engaged in the pursuit of a White Hart—a symbolic creature representing royalty—set out with purpose, leaving the women to find solace within the safety of the camp.

As Alicent sat beside her husband, Y/N, who held their young son Aegon in his lap, an unexpected intrusion disrupted the peace inside the tent. Rhaenyra, the spirited Princess, burst in with determination, her grievances clear. Viserys, in his pursuit to secure her a suitable match, had orchestrated a connection with Jason Lannister, much to Rhaenyra's vocal displeasure. The fiery Princess asserted her autonomy, rejecting the notion of being treated as a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.

The repercussions of this confrontation left Alicent aware of the strain in her once-unbreakable bond with Rhaenyra. The princess, fueled by a desire to ascend to the throne, resented the twist of fate that seemingly diverted Y/N's affections toward Alicent, who had become the new Princess consort.

In the next years, Rhaenyra's fate took a turn as she was forced into a marriage with her cousin, Ser Laenor Velaryon, because of previous liaison with her uncle Daemon in a pleasure house that added further complexity to the situation. The marriage, arranged against her will, led to the birth of bastards, whom she attempted to pass as legitimate—a move not lost on the eyes of the court.

Despite Viserys's blindness, the court recognized the discrepancy in the children's Valyrian features. Whispers spread, hinting at a connection with Ser Harwing Strong, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, who served closely under the Princess.

These choices made by Rhaenyra made Alicent bitter. The apparent disregard for duty exhibited by Rhaenyra, coupled with the ability to evade consequences, fueled Alicent's resentment. Yet, in the face of this, the legitimacy of the children born to Y/N and Alicent remained unquestionable. The unmistakable resemblance of each child to their father nullified any potential doubts that might have arisen.

As their children matured, distinct personalities emerged, painting a portrait of the Targaryen legacy. Aegon, the mischievous firstborn, delighted in playing pranks and causing mayhem within the castle. Despite occasional mischief, his loyalty to the family prevailed, a testament to the intricate balance of his character.

Helaena, their only daughter, embodied sweetness and warmth. Though closed off to many, she harbored a great heart, often murmuring riddles that, while dismissed by most, held significance to her parents who recognized her as a dreamer with visions of her own.

Aemond, a mirror image of his father, shared not only physical similarities but also akin personalities. The only distinction lay in Aemond's shyness. His passion for history forged a special bond with King Viserys, who favored the small Prince. Their shared love for learning brought them together in frequent discussions about the boy's recent discoveries.

The youngest, Daeron, charmed all who crossed his path, earning the title of the most popular son among their subjects. His charm and charisma propelled him to Oldtown, serving his mother's uncle as a cupbearer and squire.

Amidst the dynamic growth of their children, Y/N and Alicent's love stood resilient. Any hopes Rhaenyra harbored of a falling out between the couple were in vain; their bond, an indestructible force, continued to strengthen.

The visible strain within the ruling family had spilled beyond the walls of the Red Keep, earning them the titles of "blacks" and "reds" among the common folk and nobility alike. Y/N, recognizing the fractures within his family, attempted reconciliation with his younger sister, but Rhaenyra remained consumed by anger towards him for marrying another and harbored resentment for Alicent, his wife for being said woman. The rift seemed irreparable.

Despite the familial tensions, Y/N maintained a close involvement in the training of his sons, personally overseeing their progress with the assistance of Ser Criston Cole, who had shifted his allegiance from Rhaenyra to the royal family. Aegon and Aemond exhibited remarkable progress, overshadowing their cousins.

During a training session, as Ser Criston instructed the young princes, Y/N was reluctantly pulled away by the demands of his duties as the Heir. King Viserys, observing from the terrace, keenly followed the lesson. The knight, calling upon Aegon, challenged him to a sparring match and taunted, "Let's see if you can touch me. You and your brother." The confident Prince, Aegon, responded with a cocky assurance, "I've won my first bound, Ser Criston. My opponent sues for mercy."

Undeterred, Ser Criston introduced a new challenge, pitting both Aegon and Aemond against him. The two princes advanced, swords in hand, but the seasoned knight skillfully blocked each of their attacks, showcasing his experience and expertise. The training ground became a battleground of skills, the clash of steel echoing the intricate dynamics of power, loyalty, and the indomitable spirit of the Targaryen lineage.

The training ground, alive with the clang of swords and the shuffling of feet, fell into a momentary silence as Ser Harwin approached, offering instructions to the brown-haired princes. His voice redirected Ser Criston's attention toward the younger boys. "It seems like the younger boys could use your attention, Ser," Harwin remarked as he walked closer. A subtle tension hung in the air as Criston questioned, "Are you questioning my method of instruction?"

In response, Criston motioned for Aegon to face Jaecerys, declaring it an "eldest son against eldest son" spar. The white-haired Prince's age and strength became evident as he overpowered the younger Jaecerys. However, as Aegon advanced, he found himself roughly seized by the shoulder and pulled away by Ser Harwin. Aegon, outraged by the intervention, protested loudly, resulting in a reprimand from the King.

Tensions flared further when Criston began questioning the Commander of the Gold Cloaks's interest in the princes' training, suggesting affections that a man might harbor for his children. The insinuation proved too much for Ser Harwin, who snapped and attacked Criston. The incident led to Ser Harwin's banishment from King's Landing, and a few days later, he perished within the walls of Harrenhal along with his father.

More sorrowful news followed swiftly. A raven brought the grim information of Lady Laena Velaryon's death, casting a pall over King's Landing. The weight of Laena's death cast a somber shadow over Y/N, who had considered her another sister growing up. The entire family traveled to Driftmark to pay their respects, attending a funeral marred by Lord Vaemond's continuous accusations directed at Princess Rhaenyra and her bastard sons. Prince Daemon's laughter, strategically employed to deflect attention, added a layer of tension to the already heart-wrenching day.

Once the children retired for the night, Alicent found a moment to speak with her husband. In the quiet confines of their chamber, she gently inquired, "Are you alright, my love?" Y/N, standing by a window overlooking the view of Driftmark, confessed, "She was one of my closest friends, and she died alone. Without her family or friends, because Daemon denied her return. She didn't deserve such a fate."

Alicent, though not as intimately acquainted with Lady Laena, offered words of solace, acknowledging her bravery and kindness. Y/N, appreciating his wife's comforting presence, sighed and turned to look at her. "I'm sure you're right, darling," he said, caressing her face. In that moment, they found solace in each other's embrace, a comforting respite from the sorrow that permeated their hearts.

With a shared understanding, Y/N guided Alicent to bed, where they surrendered to the embrace of sleep, seeking refuge from the weariness that accompanied the emotional journey. Their intertwined forms, nestled in peaceful repose, reflected the enduring strength of their bond in the face of life's inevitable trials.

The tranquility that enveloped Y/N and Alicent was shattered abruptly when a maid, panic-stricken, banged on their door, delivering news of a grave accident involving their son. Swiftly dressing into presentable robes, they rushed towards the hall where their children were present. The sight that awaited them was horrifying—Aemond, their beloved son, was a bloody mess, missing an eye. Alicent's anguished scream pierced the air as she ran towards her injured child.

Demanding answers, Y/N interrogated the Knights, learning that the Prince had been mauled in a brawl with his cousins. The King, arriving on the scene, angrily questioned the guards for allowing such an incident. Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys soon joined, but Y/N's attention shifted to the absence of Princess Rhaenyra. When she finally appeared, followed by Prince Daemon, their disheveled appearance hinted at a liaison that further fueled Y/N's anger. How could they disrespect Lady Laena's memory like this?

Amid the chaos, Rhaenyra declared the incident a "regrettable accident," but Alicent argued it was a planned attack. Rhaenyra defended her sons, claiming they were being attacked with vile insults against their legitimacy "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned on where he heard such slanders". Y/N's anger flared; his sister intended to torture his gravely wounded son over a truth that was evident.

Rhaenyra's attempt to extract information from Prince Aemond, who had heard the alleged slanders, only heightened tensions. Y/N, protective of his son, forbade any harm to befell Aemond. As the King sought apologies and forgiveness, Alicent snapped, demanding justice and ordering the eye of Lucerys Velaryon to conduct it. Chaos ensued as Alicent, fueled by rage, advanced towards Rhaenyra with a knife. Y/N noticed his uncle making way to two women to undoubtedly aid Rhaenyra, which he couldn't let happen and stopped him before Daemon could reach her.

The struggle between Alicent and Rhaenyra unfolded, the room becoming a battleground of emotions and grievances. In the midst of the chaos, Aemond, now with one eye, offered comfort to his mother, stating "Don't mourn me mother. I might've lost an eye but I gained a dragon". Y/N joined the embrace, and as his father declared the matter over, the fractured family clung to the remnants of peace amidst the aftermath of pain and turmoil.

As the years unfolded, the Targaryen family found solace and unity in each other's company. Every meal became a cherished time for discussion, laughter, and shared moments, further strengthening the familial bonds that had weathered storms and emerged resilient.

Aegon and Helaena's marriage flourished, blessed with their two beautiful children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aegon transformed into a caring and attentive husband, shedding his earlier tendencies to become the perfect Prince fit to one day ascend the throne. Aemond, despite the challenges posed by his limited vision, emerged as a formidable warrior under his father's tutelage. Determined not to be hindered by his condition, he trained with unparalleled dedication, surpassing many in skill and prowess.

Y/N and Alicent, beaming with pride, reveled in the achievements of their children. However, their joy was tempered by the somber responsibility that befell them. With King Viserys succumbing to sickness, he lay bedridden, casting a long shadow over the realm. The inevitable reality loomed—the time was approaching when a new monarch would ascend the throne.

Amidst the bittersweet echoes of Viserys's declining health, the Targaryen family stood united, ready to face the challenges that awaited them. The transition of power loomed on the horizon, and the legacy of House Targaryen stood at the threshold of a new chapter in the annals of Westeros.

The arrival of a raven bearing Ser Vaemond Velaryon's challenging petition for the Driftwood Throne thrust the Red Keep into a state of heightened anxiety. The assertion that Rhaenyra, Daemon, and their children would return to the heart of the realm brought a cloud of unease over the castle, especially given the recent mysterious death of Laenor Velaryon.

In the midst of the commotion, Alicent navigated through the corridors toward the King's chamber, where she knew Rhaenyra and Daemon would be discussing the pressing matter of King Viserys's condition. Upon entering, she greeted them with courtesy, acknowledging the lapse of time since their last encounter. Daemon responded with a nonchalant hum, while Rhaenyra inquired about the authority overseeing the trial of her son.

A new voice cut through the tension as Y/N entered, a smirk playing on his lips. He revealed himself as the authority presiding over the trial, promising a fair judgment even as he acknowledged the accusations thrown at his wife. The room held its breath, and Alicent, standing beside her husband, added, "We have pressing matters to attend to, but please, make yourself at home." With that, the married couple walked away, leaving the guests to navigate the looming trial and the shadows of familial discord that cast their pall over the Red Keep.

The throne room buzzed with tension as the petitions unfolded, each speaker presenting their case before Y/N, who sat on the throne in his father's stead. The weight of judgment rested heavily on his shoulders. Lord Vaemond Velaryon was the first to address the court, delivering a lengthy discourse on bloodlines and the survival of House Velaryon.

However, the proceedings took an unexpected turn when, during Rhaenyra's turn to present her defense, the door opened, and in walked King Viserys. Ready to defend his favorite child, the ailing monarch cast a shadow over the proceedings. The air thickened with anticipation as the confrontation unfolded.

In a swift and brutal turn of events, Vaemond found himself condemned for openly declaring the princess's sons as bastards. The throne room, once filled with the echoes of legal arguments, now bore witness to the irrevocable consequences of familial discord and political maneuvering. As the lifeblood of House Velaryon spilled in pursuit of power and legitimacy, the court faced the stark reality that the struggle for succession and survival could exact a heavy toll on those entangled in the webs of Westerosi politics.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was thick with tension, mirroring the strained relationships within the Targaryen family. Viserys, lying in his seat of honor, served as the symbolic divide between two estranged siblings, Rhaenyra and Y/N, as the air was charged with unspoken grievances.

Jace and Luke, Baela and Rhaena, each engaged in their own conversations, while Aegon and Helaena shared a tender moment, the Prince gently rubbing his wife's hand. Aemond and Daemon, ever vigilant, sat observing, their tension a reflection of the underlying conflicts.

As King Viserys was carried in, the room stood in a display of respect. The king began his speech, adressing his family. “It’s good to see you all together. My heart aches when I see the faces dearest to me so full of envy and drifting apart form each other. House of the Dragon must be united, so let us forget all and stay strong. If not for the realm, the for this old man, who loves you all dearly.“ But the damage had been done, and the fractures within the family ran too deep to be easily mended.

Rhaenyra's toast, seemingly a gesture of reconciliation, momentarily shifted the mood. Alicent responded gracefully, highlighting the common ground between them as mothers, but the facade of harmony was shattered by a seemingly innocent gesture—a pig brought before Prince Aemond, triggering memories of the Pink Dread incident.

Aemond's explosive reaction disrupted the fragile peace. The room fell into an uneasy silence as he stood, expressing a "final tribute" to the health of his nephews, ending the speech with an insult towards the boys calling them "Strong". Chaos erupted as the young princes clashed, and the adults scrambled to intervene. The disastrous dinner culminated in Princess Rhaenyra's decision to retreat to Dragonstone, leaving behind a shattered illusion of family unity. The scars of the past ran too deep, and the once-grand gesture of a family dinner had unraveled into a painful reminder of the irreparable divisions within House Targaryen.

The dimly lit corridors echoed with quiet footsteps as Y/N made his way to his father's chamber. Upon entering, a solemn atmosphere enveloped the room, and Y/N approached King Viserys. As he assisted the ailing monarch in preparing for sleep, Viserys muttered incoherent phrases, and amidst the confusion, Y/N discerned a recurring theme—Aegon's prophecy.

In the hushed moments of their interaction, the weight of impending succession hung in the air. Viserys, in his final moments, seemed to impart a significant task to his son, urging him to fulfill the prophecy. The murmurings faded as the night unfolded, and King Viserys the Peaceful drew his last breath.

As dawn approached, the realm awaited the news of a new leader who would step forward to succeed the late monarch. The corridors, once traversed by Y/N in anticipation, now held the echoes of transition and the uncertainty that accompanied the changing tides of leadership within House Targaryen.

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A/N: This one is slightly longer, but I couldn't help but give Alicent and her kids the husband and father they deserved. We all could agree that Viserys absolutely sucked in these roles. Thank you for all the support and it would mean the world to me if you checked out my other works ♡

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lady-ashfade · 1 year ago

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£ Hypothetically if I were to already be working on some hotd fics, even though I just put up a poll.

#yandere alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #yandere Alicent hightower x reader #yandere house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #lucerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon #yandere aemond targaryen #Aemond targaryen x male!reader #‘Fades-poll

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simpingland · 1 year ago

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I LOVED EVERY BIT OF IT!!!! Literally giggling and kicking my feet reading your work 😭

I loveeeee how you write reader sm I love how you could see how much reader is struggling with not living up to people's standards, and how much it hurt him to think aemond doesn't think he's powerful/strong enough to survive battle 💔

Also I think it's about time I get a sign off... how about 🐉 a dragon since it's kind of my thing now

So HAPPY SO HAPPY SO HAPPYYYYYYYY YOU LIKED IT!!!! Thank you for trusting me, reach me whenever you want, love🩷🩷🩷

#house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x male!reader

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delusionalwritingsofagay · 7 months ago

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Hi could I get some young aemond crushing on his non identical twin brother headcanons.

Thank you 😊

Young Aemond Targaryen crushing on his non identical twin brother

Tags : Targcest

You and Aemond were made for each other, you were one soul in two bodies made by the gods, why else would they have made you twins or at least that what aemond believed.

In his eyes his twin was truly perfect and aemond was convinced that they would marry when they got older.

He didn't like the thought of you or him marrying somebody else but each other.

Aemond was incredibly protective and possessive over you to the point where Aegon would make fun of him for it along with everything else he made fun of him for.

He would constantly try and impress you during training with ser Criston when you were both there.

He barely left your side most days, not that you ever minded, You would study high Valyrian and history together or he would come and ride your dragon with you since he did not have one.

Since you were his comfort/safe space He always came to you or Alicent for comfort after Aegon and the strong bastards made fun of him.

He both enjoyed the fact that you were affectionate with him and hated at the same time. He enjoyed/loved it since you were his entire world and he wanted your attention and affection however he hated it at the same time because it sometimes flustered him or made his heart race.

you had a habit of grabbing his hand and holding it when you were dragging him places to show him whatever weird or interesting thing you had found or when you were nervous you would hold his hand or link your pinkies together subtly for comfort which made him flustered but also incredibly smug that you felt comforted by holding his hand.

He would do anything for you, you only had to ask. If you asked him to sneak into the red keep kitchens with you in the middle of the night to sneak a few honey cakes, he would do it without hesitation.

#x male reader #x male!reader #house of the dragon x male reader #house of dragon x male reader #house of dragons #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x male reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #ewan mitchell #hotd aemond #hotd season 2 #hotd

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lya-dustin · 2 years ago

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The urge to make the bridgerton!au Aemond x Male!Reader

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x male!reader #bridgerton!au

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luv-lock · 3 months ago

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⸻ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Aegon I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: Aegon spends his life desperately trying to win the love of his sister. And yet he's never enough.

Warning: Non-Con (rape), targcest, physical violence, murder, obsessive and delusional behavior, child loss/grief.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to Denis Maznev. Hope you enjoy!

She was always there.

From his earliest memories, her face is etched in his mind like a cold, pale moon. She never smiled, never laughed. Never cried. Just looked. Always watching, always silent. Even as children, while Rhaenys played with him, she was a shadow in the background. A constant presence that gnawed at him, her cold eyes watching him with that empty gaze. It was as if nothing could move her, nothing could please her. But he tried. Gods, how he tried.

He was barely seven, still small but proud of the sword his father had given him. He had trained for hours, his arms aching, his legs sore, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to show her. He wanted her to see him—really see him—for once.

He had run to her, his little chest puffed out with pride, holding his wooden practice sword like it was Blackfyre itself. "Look! Look what I can do!" he had said, his voice bright with excitement. He swung the sword in wide arcs, spinning and thrusting as best as his small body could manage. "Did you see that? I’m going to be a great warrior! You’ll see!"

But she just stood there. Watching. Her face expressionless, her eyes cold, as if she hadn’t seen anything at all. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even blink. It was like he wasn’t there, like his efforts were meaningless.

He had felt something tighten in his chest then, a feeling he didn��t understand. A hollow ache that made his hands shake as he gripped the sword tighter. He tried again, swinging harder, faster. "Are you watching?!" he had shouted, frustration leaking into his voice.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything.

She never did.

And that’s how it always was. Every time he tried, every time he showed her something—his victories in the yard, his skills in battle—she just watched. Her cold eyes always on him but never giving him what he craved. Never giving him anything.

But then, that day came. The day that broke something inside him.

He remembers the sound first. The sound of her laughing. It was so foreign, so unexpected that he almost didn’t believe it at first. He had stopped in his tracks, heart racing, the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears like the sweetest music he’d ever heard. For a moment, just a moment, he thought it was meant for him. Finally, he thought, she was laughing. She was happy. Maybe, just maybe, he had done something to make her feel.

But then he saw it.

She wasn’t laughing with him. She wasn’t laughing for him.

She was laughing with a man. Some nobody. A fool. A good-for-nothing who could never even begin to understand her, let alone deserve her. And yet, there she was, her eyes shining, her lips curved into a smile—something Aegon had never seen in all his life. She was radiant, her laughter like music, but it wasn’t for him.

The rage came fast, burning through his veins like fire. How dare this man, this insignificant speck, be the one to bring her joy? How dare she smile for him, laugh for him, when she had never once given Aegon anything but that cold, dead stare? He could hardly see through the fury as he drew his sword, his heart pounding in his ears, and with one swift strike, he cut the man’s head clean off.

The blood sprayed across the floor as the man's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, useless. And Aegon, triumphant, stood there holding the severed head, his heart racing with the thought that maybe now—now—she would see how much he loved her.

He brought the head to her, a smile tugging at his lips, presenting it like a gift, like an offering to a goddess.

But then, for the first time, he saw her cry.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent, like everything else about her. She didn’t wail or scream, just wept, her cold, distant eyes filled with sorrow. But not for him. Never for him. The realization hit him like a dagger to the chest. She wasn’t crying for him. She was mourning the other man, that worthless fool.

Could she not see? Could she not understand what he had done? He had killed for her. For her. To prove his love. Why couldn’t she see that?

It was worse now. So much worse.

He stands in the room, their child’s room, staring at the small bed where their son had once slept. His heart is heavy, his chest tight with grief that he can’t seem to swallow. Tears burn in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Their child is dead. Gone. And he can barely breathe from the weight of it.

But when he looks at her, she’s standing by the window, her back to him, staring out into the night as if nothing had happened. As if their son wasn’t lying cold and still in the crypts below.

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t even move.

His son, their child, lay lifeless, and yet...she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. The realization gnawed at him, twisting in his chest like a knife. If it had been another man’s child, would she be mourning now? Would she cry for that child, like she had cried for that worthless fool?

"Do you...do you not care?" His voice cracks, the words barely a whisper. He feels like he’s choking on the silence. "He was our child. Our son." His hands tremble, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Why… why?"

She doesn’t answer. Of course, she doesn’t.

She never answers.

The hollow ache that had plagued him since childhood is back, sharper than ever. He stares at her, at her still, cold form, and something inside him snaps. He can feel it, like a tether breaking, a dam bursting inside his mind.

"Why?" he growls, his voice low, trembling with fury. "Why can’t you love me? Is it really so hard?!" He steps toward her, fists clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. "I’ve done everything for you. Everything!"

His hands shake as he grabs her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face him. She looks at him with that same blank, emotionless expression, her eyes cold and distant, as if she’s not even here. As if she’s not even alive.

"I killed for you!" His voice is rising, desperate, wild. "I’ve fought for you, bled for you! I’ve done everything you could ever want, but you—" He pauses, his breath coming in harsh gasps as a dark, twisted thought coils in his mind. "Is this because of him? Because I killed that servant? Did you really think he could love you more than I do? That he deserved you? Him?"

His grip tightens, fingers digging into her flesh. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rage coursing through his veins. "I am the one who loves you. I’m the one who’s always loved you!"

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react. Just stares at him with those empty, cold eyes.

The silence is unbearable. It breaks him.

With a roar, he grabs her dress, tearing at the fabric, ripping it apart in his hands. He’s rough, vicious, his fingers leaving bruises on her pale skin as he forces himself onto her.

She doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t scream. She just lies there, blank, her body cold and still beneath his. The more she doesn’t react, the harder he thrusts, the rougher he becomes, as if he can force her to feel something—anything. He can feel the blood, can see the bruises forming on her skin, but she just keeps staring at him, those empty eyes boring into him, cold and unfeeling.

But it didn’t matter.

She will love me. She will.

"You will love me," he growls, his voice low and savage, each thrust more brutal than the last. "You will love me. You’ll see. I’ll make you."

But she doesn’t change. She never changes.

Even as her body bleeds, even as he takes her in the most violent, twisted way, she just looks at him with that same cold, distant stare. As if he’s nothing. As if nothing will ever be enough.

Her eyes stayed cold.

Her eyes stayed empty.

And still, he kept going.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

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pixii33 · 5 months ago

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐌𝐲 𝐝♡ve 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Unhinged Aegon x Therapist Reader part 3

Summary: after that night, no matter what you do, no matter what you say, no one believes you. You're done. You want to quit being his therapist but you still haven't seen the worst part...

Warning: paranoia, abuse, mental illness.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

PART 1, PART 2, PART 4

It had been days since that night—days since the dead doves, the blood on the walls, the police visit to the Targaryen home. Days since Y/N last felt normal.

Now, the walls of her apartment seemed to close in on her. The curtains remained drawn, blocking out the light of day. The once-cozy space was now a prison, suffocating her with silence, except for the incessant scratching at the back of her mind. The feeling of being watched, of not being alone. Every creak, every whisper of wind against the windows made her jump.

She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t sleep. Her body felt weak, and her mind was clouded in a haze of paranoia. Her hair was greasy, her skin pale and blotchy. Dark circles framed her eyes—eyes that were wide with fear, darting around the room, always expecting him. Expecting Aegon to appear from the shadows. She had stopped showering, afraid that if she closed her eyes for even a second, he’d be there when she opened them. Her reflection in the mirror was foreign, ghostly, a stranger trapped in a body consumed by terror.

And her boyfriend…he was tired. More than tired. He was done.

"Y/N, for fuck's sake, you have to stop this," he snapped, his voice breaking the silence like glass shattering on the floor. He stood in the kitchen, staring at her with a mix of frustration and pity, while she sat at the edge of the couch, her legs pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them.

"You don’t believe me. You never believe me,” she muttered, her voice hoarse from days of crying, of pleading. "I saw him. It was him. I know it was him." Her eyes were wild, flicking toward the corners of the room as though Aegon might materialize from the shadows at any moment.

Jacob sighed, rubbing his temples. "Y/N, we've been over this a thousand times. The cops checked him out. There was nothing—nothing—to suggest he did anything. No evidence, no signs, nothing. He’s just some guy going through a rough time, and you're his therapist. You’ve taken this too far."

She flinched at his words, the sting of them sinking into her chest. "No…you don’t get it. You don’t see him like I do. He’s dangerous. I’m not safe. He knows where I live. He wants me." Her voice trembled as she spoke, each word a desperate plea for him to understand.

But he didn’t. He was tired of this, of her, of everything.

"You're obsessed, Y/N. Obsessed with this guy. You spend all your time thinking about him, talking about him, dreaming up this whole fucking scenario in your head like you're the main character of some horror movie. But this isn't a movie—this is real life, and you're making shit up!" His voice grew louder, angrier with every word, his patience long gone.

Y/N shook her head, her body trembling. "I'm not making it up. You have to believe me—please. I’m not crazy. I’m not—"

"Yes, you are!" He cut her off, his face twisted with frustration. "You’re fucking crazy, Y/N! Years of being a therapist have finally caught up with you. You’ve absorbed all the bullshit from your patients, and now you’re projecting it onto this guy. Aegon didn’t do anything to you—he’s just some poor bastard who had the misfortune of being assigned to you."

Her stomach lurched at his words. The pain of his accusation was worse than anything she’d felt before. It was like a knife twisting inside her, carving out the last remnants of hope she’d clung to. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think.

"I'm not crazy," she whispered, her voice broken, fragile. She didn’t even recognize herself anymore.

Jacob slammed his hand on the counter, his eyes blazing with frustration. "Then why are you acting like it? Why can’t you just let this go? You're ruining your life—our life—because you’re so fixated on this guy. You won’t eat, you won’t sleep, you’re a fucking mess, Y/N! I can't keep doing this! Every time I try to help you, you just spiral deeper into this delusion!"

Tears streamed down her face, but she barely felt them. "I’m not delusional," she repeated, but her voice cracked, betraying her.

"Yes, you are!" He shouted, stepping closer, his face red with anger. "You’re making this shit up because you’re obsessed with him. Admit it! You’re obsessed with Aegon. You’ve let him get into your head, and now you’re the one who’s losing it."

"No!" she cried, her voice raw. "I’m not obsessed with him! I don’t care about him like that! I’m scared—he’s going to hurt me! I know he is!"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Oh, give me a break. You’ve been so wrapped up in this guy, you probably want him to do something, just so you can play the victim. Just so you can have some sick thrill of being the center of his attention. It’s pathetic, Y/N."

His words felt like a slap in the face, each one tearing at her like claws. She stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to believe that this was happening—that he was saying these things to her. The one person who was supposed to protect her, to believe her, had turned against her.

"I can’t do this anymore," he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with anger. "I can’t keep pretending that you're okay, because you're not. You need help. Professional help. Maybe you should check yourself into a fucking psych ward, because right now, you’re acting like a fucking lunatic."

Her breath hitched in her throat. The room seemed to spin around her, her vision blurring with tears. "How can you say that?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "How can you say that to me?"

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly done with the conversation. "Because it's the truth. And deep down, you know it. You're spiraling, Y/N. And I’m not going to stand here and let you drag me down with you."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. She felt as though the world had collapsed around her, the last piece of her sanity slipping away.

"Fine," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "If you think I’m crazy…then just go. Leave me."

He stared at her for a long moment, the anger still simmering in his eyes. Then, without another word, he turned and stormed out of the apartment, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Y/N alone in the dark.

And for the first time in days, the silence felt more dangerous than ever.

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, her eyes red and swollen from sleepless nights. She hadn’t heard from her boyfriend in days, and each missed call had sent her deeper into a pit of despair. But today was different. Today was the day she would finally face Aegon.

Her hands shook as she brushed her hair, her fingers trembling with every stroke. Her reflection looked haggard—dark circles under her eyes, skin pale and sickly. She barely recognized herself, but she needed to pull it together. She had to pull it together.

"He’s just a man," she whispered to herself, her voice shaky but determined. "Just a man… I’m in control. I have to be in control. I can’t let him win."

Her eyes flickered toward the closet. She needed to choose something to wear, something that made her feel strong, confident. Something that would hide how utterly broken she felt inside.

She reached for a black turtleneck, one of the few pieces of clothing that didn’t feel too vulnerable, too exposed. The fabric clung to her body in a way that was both comforting and suffocating, but she convinced herself it was armor. Something to shield her from the weight of Aegon’s gaze. She paired it with dark jeans and boots, feeling the weight of each step as she slipped them on.

"It’s just another session," she muttered, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail. "I’m going to confront him. I’m going to tell him it’s over. He can’t do this to me anymore."

She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to find some semblance of the person she used to be. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink, her knuckles white from the pressure.

"You're not crazy," she told herself, her voice stronger this time. "He’s messing with you, but you can stop this. You can end this. Just get through today, and then you’re done. You’ll quit. You’ll never have to see him again."

Her heart raced at the thought of being in the same room with him again, but she forced herself to breathe.

"In and out," she whispered, taking a deep breath. "Just…in and out. You can do this. You have to do this."

She tried to picture how it would go. She’d walk into the room, sit across from him like she always did, but this time, she wouldn’t let him get to her. She wouldn’t let his twisted words sink into her skin like poison.

"I’m the therapist," she reminded herself, pacing back and forth now, her boots tapping against the hardwood floor. "I’m the one in control. He’s just a patient. He’s just…" She trailed off, the image of Aegon’s wide eyes and the way he had silently told her to shut up flashing in her mind.

She shook her head, trying to push the memory away. "No, no… Don’t think about that. You’re stronger than this. You’re not scared of him. You can quit. You can walk away."

But her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. She stared at them, willing them to be steady. "Breathe," she muttered, forcing another deep breath into her lungs. "Just breathe."

She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, the weight grounding her for a moment. "You’ve got this," she whispered one last time, trying to convince herself.

But as she headed for the door, the creeping sense of dread wrapped around her, cold and suffocating.

Y/N sat at her desk, staring at the door, the silence of the room pressing in on her. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and the knot of anger in her chest only grew tighter. She gripped the edge of her desk, her fingers turning white. She was done with Aegon. Done with his games, his manipulations, his stalking. Today, she was ready to confront him—she was ready to make him understand that she wasn’t going to be his victim anymore.

The memory of the dead doves, the blood, still haunted her. Every night, she barely slept, feeling like his eyes were on her, even when she knew she was alone. And yet, despite all of it, he had gotten away with it. He had made her look crazy, gaslighted her in front of the police and her boyfriend, made her question her own reality. But not anymore. Today, she was taking control. Today, she would end it.

Her jaw clenched as she imagined him walking through the door, with that smug, twisted grin. Her mind raced with the confrontation she had been playing over and over in her head. She would scream at him, shout at him until he admitted what he had done. Until he finally stopped pretending to be some innocent victim.

The minutes dragged on, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at the clock. And then, finally, the door creaked open.

Aegon stepped in, but something was different. He wasn’t the man she was used to seeing—there was no smirk, no defiance. He looked… broken. Shattered.

Her eyes widened in shock. His face was a mess of bruises, swollen and discolored, with dark bags hanging under his bloodshot eyes. His clothes were disheveled, stained with dirt and blood. He walked with a limp, his steps small and hesitant, like every movement hurt him. His hands were clasped tightly together in front of him, shaking as they fidgeted against each other. He kept his head down, glancing around the room like a trapped animal, flinching at every noise, every movement.

Y/N blinked, completely taken aback. This wasn’t the Aegon she knew—the arrogant, unhinged man who had stalked her, terrorized her. No, this was something else, something… disturbing. He looked like someone who had been run over, like life had chewed him up and spat him out, and now he stood there, fearful and fragile.

For a split second, she felt something almost like pity creep into her chest. But then she remembered who he was. What he had done. And the anger surged back to the forefront.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

He didn’t answer. He just stood there, eyes darting around, avoiding her gaze. His lips trembled, but no words came out.

She slammed her hands on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. "Aegon!" she snapped. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What kind of game are you playing now?"

At the sound of her raised voice, Aegon jumped, visibly flinching. His body curled inward like he was trying to make himself smaller, his shoulders hunching as his knees gave way. He dropped to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth like a scared child.

Y/N’s anger faltered for a moment, replaced by confusion and a creeping sense of dread. "Aegon, what the hell is going on?" she asked again, but this time her voice was quieter, uncertain.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he started muttering under his breath, his voice shaky and broken. "What’s the matter?" he whispered, his words barely audible. "What’s the matter, Aegon?"

Her heart sank as she realized he wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to… himself? His voice trembled as he repeated the words, like a broken record. "What’s the matter, Aegon? No. I’m not gonna hurt you. Come here. Come on. What’s the matter?"

Y/N felt her stomach twist as the phrases spilled out of his mouth over and over again, each repetition more unsettling than the last. It wasn’t Aegon’s voice. It was someone else’s, echoing through his broken mind.

She watched in horror as he hugged his knees tighter, his entire body trembling. "I’m not gonna hurt you, Aegon. See? That wasn’t bad," he whispered, tears streaming down his bruised face. "That wasn’t bad. That wasn’t bad."

It hit her like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t some act, some manipulation. Aegon had been abused—horribly, painfully, to the point where his mind had fractured. And now, as he sat on the floor, shaking and crying, he was reliving it. Over and over again.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had never seen him like this. She had never imagined this side of him—the scared, broken side. The side that had been hurt so deeply that he could only repeat the words of his abuser like a mantra.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her hands shaking as she stood there, unsure of what to do. Part of her still hated him—still wanted to scream at him, to blame him for everything. But another part of her… felt something else. Something terrifying and sad.

She knelt down beside him, her voice soft and hesitant. "Aegon…"

He didn’t respond, just kept rocking back and forth, his tears falling faster now.

"I’m not gonna hurt you," he whispered again, his voice trembling. "See? That wasn’t bad."

She swallowed hard, her mind racing. "Aegon," she said softly, "I’m not going to hurt you either. It’s okay."

He didn’t seem to hear her. He was too far gone, lost in whatever memory had taken over his mind. His eyes stared blankly at the floor, wide and terrified, as if he were seeing something she couldn’t.

She reached out slowly, carefully, placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the touch, his whole body recoiling, but she didn’t pull away.

"Aegon," she whispered again, trying to keep her voice steady. "It’s okay. You’re safe here."

But he wasn’t safe. Not really. Not with whatever had broken him, not with the darkness that clung to him like a shadow.

He rocked back and forth, mumbling, "Come here. Come on, what’s the matter, Aegon? No, no, no, I’m not gonna hurt you."

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, her heart pounding in her chest. Whoever had done this to him—whoever had hurt him—had left a mark that ran deeper than anything she could understand.

For the first time, she realized she wasn’t dealing with just a stalker or a psychopath. Aegon was something much darker, much more broken than she had ever imagined.

She swallowed hard, trying to push the fear out of her voice. "Aegon," she said quietly, "It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid."

But as his sobs grew louder, as he curled tighter into himself, Y/N knew that nothing she said could reach him.

The real Aegon—the one who had tormented her, who had done horrible things—was still there, somewhere. But so was this… this terrified boy, trapped in his own mind.

And she didn’t know which one scared her more.

Y/N swallowed down the terror rising in her throat, her hand trembling as she reached out to softly pet Aegon’s head. At first, he flinched, his body jerking away from her touch. But then, as if something clicked in his broken mind, he looked up at her—really looked—and his tear-streaked eyes seemed to recognize her for the first time. His lips trembled as he whispered her name, broken, like a child.

“Y/N…”

Before she could react, he clung to her, his body collapsing into her lap, his head pressed against her chest. He sobbed quietly, his whole body shaking, his hands clutching her as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded. She froze for a moment, completely caught off guard, but then instinct took over, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. His tears soaked through her clothes, and she could feel the tremors in his frail, battered form.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking his hair, trying to calm him. “It’s okay, Aegon. You’re safe now.”

His sobs eventually began to quiet, his breathing slowing as she rocked him gently, her voice soft in his ear. “Shh… it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

For a long time, they stayed like that—her holding him, him clinging to her like a lifeline. The moments stretched into eternity, and Y/N could feel his grip slowly loosen as the storm inside him settled. He pulled away slightly, his eyes red and swollen from crying, but he refused to meet her gaze, his head turning away as he tried to wipe at the tears that continued to fall.

“Aegon…” she began softly, “What happened to you? Who did this?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at the floor, his jaw tight, struggling to control the tears still running down his face.

“Aegon, please…” she pressed, her voice gentle but firm. “You have to tell me.”

For a moment, it seemed like he might respond, but then he muttered something, barely audible. “I… I hate it. When she… when my mother does horrible things to me.”

Y/N felt her breath catch. His mother? She had always known that Aegon’s relationship with his family was fraught, but this? There was something darker here, something that had broken him in ways she couldn’t fathom.

“But it’s okay,” Aegon continued, his voice shaking. “Because I love her. And that’s what matters, right?”

“No Aegon–”

"I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N," Aegon said suddenly, his voice softer now, almost childlike. "I was angry that night, but I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to hurt him. I didn’t like the way he looked at you. The way he touched you."

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Aegon…"

He turned to her then, his bloodshot eyes wide and full of sincerity. "You can hit me, you know. I won’t stop you. You were so angry, I could see it. You can hit me if it makes you feel better."

Y/N’s blood ran cold. "What? No, Aegon, I’m not—"

"You can," he repeated, almost eagerly. "It’s okay. You’re mad at me. You can hit me." He smiled then, a soft, unnerving smile that made her stomach churn. "I won’t even flinch. I promise."

"Aegon, that’s not—"

“You can beat me if it makes you feel better,” he continued, his voice unnervingly soft, as though he were offering her a gift. “It’s okay. I’ll let you do it. I deserve it, right?”

The pit in Y/N’s stomach twisted. His words, his tone—it was as if he was trying to convince himself, not her. Like he was rationalizing the abuse he had endured.

He turned his head just slightly, enough to glance at her from the corner of his eye. “You’re like me,” he whispered.

Her body tensed at his words. “What… what do you mean?”

He wiped at his face with trembling fingers, still not fully meeting her eyes. “Even though your boyfriend hurt you… you still think about him, don’t you?”

Y/N’s blood ran cold. She felt the fear creeping back in—the terror that had been gnawing at her ever since the day the dead doves appeared at her door. The stalker. The horror. It was all coming back.

Aegon finally looked up at her, his eyes glittering with something dark, something sinister. “You love him… don’t you?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. Her heart was hammering in her chest, the air thick with a suffocating dread.

Aegon’s lips twisted into a smile—that smile. The one she had seen before, the one that sent chills down her spine.

“I hate him,” Aegon said softly, his voice dripping with venom. “I hate the way he treats you. The way he talks to you. Hurts you. He doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She could feel her pulse quickening, her mind racing, trying to piece together what he was saying—what he was implying.

“Do you know,” Aegon asked, his tone disturbingly calm, “why he hasn’t answered your calls?”

Her stomach dropped.

She hadn’t heard from her boyfriend in days. He had stormed out after their last argument, refusing to answer her desperate calls or texts. She had been terrified, worried sick about him—about what he was thinking, about whether he’d come back. But now, sitting here, listening to Aegon, that fear morphed into something far worse.

He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have.

Her entire body went cold.

“What… what do you mean?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

Aegon’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with something inhuman, something evil. He didn’t answer directly—he didn’t have to. The look in his eyes told her everything.

He leaned back, his voice light and playful now, like they were discussing a joke. “Did you open the gift I left for you?”

Her heart nearly stopped.

Gift? What gift? She hadn’t seen anything—hadn’t thought about it. But then, the morning came flooding back to her. The moment she had left the house, her mind too wrapped up in her terror and paranoia to notice anything out of place.

Her blood ran cold as her mind raced with horrible possibilities. The gift. What if it wasn’t just some harmless object? What if it was—

No. No, no, no.

She stood up so fast that she almost tripped, her eyes wide with panic. Aegon was laughing now—a soft, eerie laugh that filled the room, the sound making her skin crawl.

“Oh, Y/N,” he cooed, his voice mocking. “You really should check your door more carefully in the mornings.”

Her mind was spinning, her heart racing. She had to get out. She had to leave. She couldn’t stay here—not with him, not with his laughter ringing in her ears, the sick grin spreading across his bruised face.

She grabbed her keys from the desk, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped them. Aegon was still sitting there, watching her with that horrifying smile, his eyes gleaming with delight.

“You’ll thank me later,” he called after her as she bolted for the door.

Her mind was screaming, her heart pounding in her chest as she tore through the office, slamming the door behind her. His laughter echoed in her ears, following her down the hallway, filling her with a terror so deep she could barely breathe.

And as she ran, the only thought in her mind was the horrifying possibility of what she would find when she opened that gift.

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